#i write more consistently without getting burnt out as often anymore

[brynnne]

every time I sit down and force myself to write even when I really don't feel like it I always end up pleasantly surprised by the outcome.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Hey, Ralph.

I don’t know how to word this, but do you have any tips for learning to enjoy life again? I’m 24. Just graduated a couple months ago with a Masters. I feel stuck in my current job—not really liking the work anymore, not feeling fulfilled, not making a lot of money, not clicking with my boss. I do what my boss asks but I don’t feel supported by him and don’t see him as someone I can go to if I have a question or need help, which slows down my work. I also feel so much pressure from my parents to do well in my career. My relationship with my dad consists only of talk about my career/money and how I’m not where I need to be in life. He hates that I didn’t major/work in a STEM field or do business.

I don’t really have any interests either. I mean, I feel so burnt out from my education that I can’t even enjoy the things I used to anymore. I went straight from undergrad to masters and feel really burnt out from that. I used to love reading and writing but I can’t enjoy it without feeling like it’s an assignment. But I also find it hard to commit to learning new things now that I don’t have deadlines or guidance on it. I don’t really do much when I’m not working. And I find myself being more and more envious of friends who are having new experiences, getting prestigious jobs, and doing things I’m still afraid to do.

I hate living at home with my family and I fell into a really serious depression when I had to move home from campus at the start of the pandemic. Even though I’m an adult there are rules I have to follow. I can’t really go out or drink, and it’s pretty traditional for the whole family to live together so I feel like I’ll never be able to move out, even if I could afford it (which I’m not quite able to do yet). There’s no privacy and no peace. We can’t even get along yet no one can just move out. I feel so fucking suffocated sometimes.

I’m terrified of driving even though I have my license. I have serious social anxiety and only one friend. I find it hard to stick up for myself and am often seen as weak. I struggle to stay consistent in my search for a new job just because I’m terrified of rejection and of the interview process. I’ll start and stop but can just never stay committed. So I’m stuck.

I was in therapy but now that I graduated I no longer qualify for reduced price sessions. I also am not sure how much it really helped, but I guess I felt better when I had then vs not having them now.

Objectively, things aren’t that bad. I still have a job and savings and have somewhere to live and find joy in little things, like new music. And I’m so lucky to have a sister that is comfortable driving and takes me where I need to go. I also dream about a better life, and that makes me happy momentarily but that ends up making me sad when I begin to think how far away (or even impossible) that is for me. Seriously wishing I was a kid again.

I know you don’t know me and wouldn’t be able to fix/solve anything even if you did, but do you have any words of wisdom you can share for how to navigate tough times?

Oh anon - I'm sending you so much love. I'm sorry that you're . I'm particularly sorry about your Dad and your living situation - that is really hard.

What worries me about offering advice is it seems like your brain is using anything you could do to make your life better as something that you're failing at.

So my first bit of advice - is understand that the voice in your brain is not always telling you the truth.

For example, your brain seems to be telling you that you can only find a job if you commit to the process. That's not true. You don't have to stay committed to a job hunt to find a new job. A job hunt is much more like a lottery, than building up a particular muscle. Each application that you put in is a chance. The fact that you've put in 10 applications doesn't improve your chances on the 11th (guess how I know?). Every new job application is a new chance.

Unfortunately you can't know when the winning ticket will come up and rejection from jobs is horrific (or at least I've always found it so). Do what you can - don't set impossible standards.

Reading this - it seems to me that you're doing really well in difficult circumstances. Can you start by acknowledging that?

**********

One of the questions I have is - how much is a problem is it that you can't drive? It will really depend on where you live. In some places you can do what you fundamentally need - to do whether or not you can drive. In other places, driving is essential for independence and ability to do things. Even when it's perfectly possible to navigate the world without a car - driving can still feel like something you should be able to do. Can you unpack those feelings? Are there options to get where you want to go besides driving? In which case who cares if you can drive?

In terms of not feeling overwhelmed. I think it'd be good to consciously pick some aspects of your life that you're not working on. You can't find a new job, plan to move out, figure out how your driving anxiety and you driving can coexist and find a free therapist all at once. Start gentle. Aim to do one of those, sometimes, but make sure you don't do any of it at least one weekend a month.

It doesn't matter which one you pick - it really doesn't. It's the act of consciously not doing the others that matters.

**********

Another thing you could do is do things that are easy and do them badly. You say that you don't have the energy to learn new things. You seem to have a lot of gremlins in your brain that says you must be good at things for them to be worthwhile (not your fault).

I've done some drawing over the last few years - I'm definitely can't draw - I just do it sometimes and I feel my brain go 'I like this form of stimulation'. Or maybe buy a cheap craft kit aimed at children so you can make something (I've recently borrowed some lego off family members with children and made it and found that very satisfying). Don't push this - don't do things because you should - but think about doing something playful (google artists dates for other ideas)

*********

Finally, and this is my most concrete bit of advice - don't try to make friends - just try to do things with other people. Thinking about 'making friends' is to set yourself a task that you can't control. Make the thing you're trying to do as easy and achievable as possible.

For human contact when you're feeling isolated - the easiest thing is to go along to something that is already happening and happening regularly. This could be a class (anything that takes your fancy - as long as you won't try and be good at it), something that has some kind of purpose (plant trees or overthrow the government), or events like board game evenings. If you do something with other people regularly that will help your brain. You might make friends, or you might not, but adding things to your life (as an experiment - you don't have to stick at things you don't enjoy) is your best chance to find some joy.

*******

Some further advice that might help.

I recommend Captain Awkward - who has good advice about on what to do when it feels impossible to leave home and how to find people.

I also think Oliver Burkeman can be really good for burned out people who still want to make their life better.

Finally - it is really hard navigating this world. You are doing really well.

[shorkbrian]

Okay so pro hero kiri has this big fat crush on his co worker! Reader who unintentionally rejecting his moves on her because she is so shy and awkward but slowly she shown some signs that she is into him so he changes tactics and acts more romantic which adds bonus points once he sees her blush when she reads the note attached to a deep red rose! fast forward to a couple of months of pinning and he is getting very frustrated especially with her enticing soft curves of her body so (1/2) 🌠 anon

oof okay listen!!!! open ur ears!!! I have something to say

(Warnings - stalking, Somnophilia, dubcon, NSFW, unsafe sex, blood from a bite wound but it’s very brief lol)

You’re a little paper pusher at his agency, you barely even interact with the big man, but he always makes time to swing by your desk and chat for a bit before he heads home.

Unfortunately, you’re about as smooth as a piece of burnt toast. His casual flirting goes right over your head, and you keep rejecting his advances and it’s so fucking frustrating. Can’t you see how hard he’s fallen for you? Kiri doesn’t understand why you look away whenever he bends down to rest his elbows on your desk, giving you the perfect view down his shirt to see his fat pecs (the man knows he’s got a banging’ body okay). He doesn’t get why you shy away from his touch when he tries to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Kirishima can’t comprehend why you always turn him down when he mentions going out with you and some other co-workers (to make you feel more at-ease, he knows he can be intimidating) for drinks or a bite to eat.

He’s stressed - the man really wants to get to know you, but it’s like you’re completely oblivious to his intentions. He’s pretty sure you just see him as a goofy extroverted coworker that loves people. After all, he does stop and say hi to several other people every day as he makes his way over to your desk.

So Kirishima decides to up his game. Starts making his feelings obvious. He gets more touchy, perching on your desk to reach and rub your shoulders, laughing at your jokes and (gently) smacking a hand against your leg like a giggly schoolgirl. He talks about his workout routine and asks you if you think his muscles have been getting bigger. Could you check? Just with a hand around his bicep of course.

He buys a few gifts here and there; a cup of coffee for you with his number on the lid, a new pen when he noticed your favorite one broke, cute socks because he’s seen you wearing cute ones before, and he saw them and thought of you.

Each and every gift is accepted with the biggest blush he’s ever seen. You turn beet red, flush stretching down your neck and disappearing underneath your shirt. Kirishima chides himself for wanting to see how far the flush went, for wanting to rip off your shirt and bend you over right here and now.

But he didn’t like you just for your body, and he was willing to wait. 

Kirishima feels emboldened by the success of his other gifts, so he decides to write out his feeling in a note, get you a bunch of flowers, and present them to you Friday night. That way, you’d have time to think things over and process your own feelings before you saw Kiri again on Monday. To him, it seemed like the perfect plan.

And god, you were so cute when he gave you the flowers, he wanted to kiss you on the nose and then taste your lips, right then and there. 

But he didn’t.

He gave you a soft pat on the back before walking away. He was around the corner before he heard you gasp, which immediately made him backtrack and peek his head out so he could see you. Was it a good gasp? Or a bad gasp?

You had a little smile on your face, eyes twinkling as you read the note.

Kirishima pumped his fist, heart soaring. He finally got through to you.

Except he hadn’t.

On Monday, you didn’t say anything to him, hardly even looked at him. When he came by your desk to ask what you thought of the note, all he got was a fierce blush and mumbled sentences, before you bolted off to the bathroom.

It’s like he was back at square one. 

It made Kirishima feel... inadequate. His old middle-school insecurities came creeping back into his life. Was he not good enough? Was he just too boring and dull and you didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings? What was wrong with him?

But he was an adult now, he could handle rejection.

The thing is, you weren’t rejecting him. 

You baked him cookies, dropping them off in his office while he was out, but they had your name on them and the most adorable little note, and Kirishima’s heart almost exploded. Plus, they tasted delicious. 

He got a text from you one night, a cute picture of a spiky red dog and a “this reminded me of you... Sleep well! <3″ and he spent the rest of the night imagining your wedding.

You kept showing signs that you were interested, yet you wouldn’t even look at him in person. Kirishima concluded that you were just too shy.

That was okay. He realized that the more time he gave you, the more you opened up to him. Maybe in a few months, the two of you could go on a date or something!

In the meantime, the man liked to check up on you, make sure you were safe. He was invested in you now, subtly following you home some nights to make sure nobody looked at you wrong.

He broke into your apartment quite often, but it was entirely justifiable! He wasn’t being a creep (okay, well, maybe just a little), he was just being a good friend, a good coworker. He had to make sure everything was safe, that no one could get in (other than him), that you hadn’t left a candle burning or the stove going. 

You slept like a rock, staying asleep even when Kirishima accidentally knocked a cup off your counter and broke it. To his surprise, there was no awakening, no screaming, yelling for him to get out or that he was a weirdo. Just you, snoring in your bed, a tiny bit of drool at the side of your mouth.

It was such a domestic scene, it warmed Kiri’s heart.

Sometimes the man liked to slip into bed beside you, frame creaking under his weight. It was a tight squeeze-he was a large man and your bed was made for one (1) person, but Kirishima didn’t mind. It just meant he got to press close to you, feel the warmth of your smaller body, hear your quite little huffs and snores and mumbles as you slept. 

He let himself relax, sink into the mattress. The next time he crawled into your bed, he let himself wrap an arm around you. The time after that, Kirishima felt brave enough to scooch under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he found that your pajamas consisted of a giant shirt and panties.

Bare legs.

Glad that he wasn’t a teenager anymore, he didn’t have to worry about cumming in his pants. Still, he found himself leaving your apartment with a chubbed-up cock more often than not.

You were just so soft. He wanted to touch all of you, to lick all over and get your plush flesh in-between his teeth. He wanted to bite into your shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress, pumping you with load after load of cum, until your stomach was swollen and you cried because you felt sick.

But Kirishima also wanted to hold you close, take showers together and wash your hair for you, make coffee in the morning and talk about last night’s episode of “Chopped”. He wanted to give you sappy smooches before getting to work, make you laugh with goofy jokes and give you hugs, pick you up and twirl you around whenever he saw you after being apart, no matter if it were days or minutes.

The nasty, dirty thoughts warred with the soft, gentle ones. Sometimes they mixed, Kirishima daydreaming of sweet, romantic sex. 

He just wanted you so bad.

One night, he’s crawled into bed with you like usual, rubbing a sock-clad foot over your bare legs, pressing chaste little kisses to the top of your head as he draws you into his arms. It was nigh impossible to wake you, so he felt no fear or apprehension in taking such bold actions.

Shuffling in your sleep, you throw a leg over his hip, snuggling deeper into the solid warmth that is his body. Kiri sighs, contented.

And then you start making noises.

Little huffs of breath, tiny whimpers, and when Kirishima looks down, your eyebrows are drawn up. You twitch against him, against the thick thigh that you had slung your leg over, and then repeat the motion. 

You’re.... You’re having a wet dream.

Kirishima lets out a shaky breath, trying to focus so he doesn’t crush your arm with his excited grip. You’re rutting against him steadily now, dragging your damp cunt against his leg, sighing at the friction, lips parted. 

His cock is rapidly hardening, and he wants to rub himself against your stomach, feel the cling of his shirt as he rucks it up with his rhythmic humping. But he doesn’t.

He’s a gentleman, he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. You’re just having an unconscious reaction to a man being in your bed. Maybe further down the road, when he’s taken you on many romance-filled dates, then he can lay you down and whisper into your ear how much he loves you while the two of you make love.

The man is so taken with that fantasy that he almost misses the gentle gasp of a name falling from your lips.

But he didn’t, because it was his name.

A shiver ran through him; excitement? fear of you waking up? He didn’t know. When he checked your face, you were still asleep, letting out those little whimpers and moaning his name quietly.

God was real.

God was real, and he had made angels, and you were one of them. 

And lord forgive him, because Kirishima was about to sin.

How could he hold himself back? You were humping his leg, moaning his name and panting, in your sleep. You wanted him, you were just too shy to initiate or accept Kiri’s advances. 

Theres no way he’s holding himself back.

Covers are thrown off, Kirishima quickly detaching from you (oh how he missed your warmth immediately) to shuck off his clothes, almost falling on his face as he ripped off his socks. 

Then he’s looming over you, quickly pulling up your shirt, lifting your head gently, guiding your arms out. Your panties came off next, slid down your legs with shaky, excited hands.

Kirishima wanted to worship you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, laid there on the bed, whining in your sleep for him, thighs rubbing together. He felt himself salivating, jaw itching to open and clamp down, to eat you whole. He wanted all of you.

Climbing back on the bed, Kiri pumped his cock a few times, precum flowing from the tip helping to smooth the way. He was going to fuck you now. 

No preamble, the man just spread your legs, settling between them. A quick rub of your pussy with his fingers had him finding it already drenched, and he groaned quietly, the hand around his cock moving faster. 

He shifted back slightly, only far enough to lift your legs, pressing your thighs up and back towards your chest. Your breathing changed slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t paying attention to that now. He didn’t care if you woke up now, you had just been dreaming about him. He was your wet dream come true, you’d surely appreciate how good he was about to make you feel.

Lining up was a bit more difficult than Kirishima was used to - he’d never been this excited to fuck someone in his life, hands trembling, heart beating out of his chest, sweat slicking his skin. But then the tip of his fat cock slipped inside, stretching you open, and all was right in the world for Kirishima.

He wanted to slam home, to push and push until he was balls deep and his tip was kissing your cervix. But he held himself back - he hadn’t stretched you, and he didn’t like the idea of hurting you in that way, he wanted your first time with him to feel good.

So he went slow, pushing inside an inch, waiting. Pushing another inch, then waiting. Waiting waiting waiting, he almost couldn’t rein in his desires. But he did, for you.

“Kiri?” You mumbled, eyes fluttering open. Kirishima wasn’t expecting you to speak so clearly, hips jumping forward, seating himself the rest of the way inside your heavenly warmth as the man swore.

“Kiri?” Clearer now, with a hint of panic. Kirishima looked up, and you were fully awake now, looking at the man with wide eyes.

“Hey baby.” He whispered, smiling gently. Your hands rose, one resting against his bicep, the other settling on his chest, and he shivered at your touch, at the feel of your tiny little hands on his flesh. 

“What’s-? When did you....?” It was so cute, the confused scrunch of your face. You were still fighting the mist of sleep, blinking owlishly up at the man on top of you. Fear hadn’t kicked in, although it was simmering underneath the surface.

“Hey, shhh. Don’t worry, I’m here. Gonna make you feel the best, you’re my pretty little girl, know that? I’ve been waiting so long for you.” He whispered, swooping down for a gentle kiss.

You didn’t fight him, just accepted the lips pressing against yours with confusion. It probably felt like you were still in a dream, hazy and relaxed.

Kirishima couldn’t wait anymore, his cock was throbbing, your insides were molten and he felt like he was going to explode. He wanted, no, needed to move.

His first thrust was small, just a quick schlick out, and the same noise when he pushed back in. You were sopping wet, and the slide made it easy for him to move. Even more proof that you wanted this. 

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as you pulled away from the kiss. Kiri huffed out a joyful, breathless laugh as he thrusted again, sparks of pleasure lighting up in his gut. 

“Mm, Kiri wait-” You moaned, nails digging into his bicep and chest. Kirishima ignored you, speeding up, trying to angle his hips to find your sweet spot. One of his hands held your hip, the other brushing your hair out of your eyes as he cooed at you. “Pretty baby, my beautiful girl. You’re making me feel amazing, love you so much. Feeling good? I can feel you trying to milk my cock. You want my cum?”

Dazed, assaulted by so many sensations straight out of sleep, you couldn’t exactly grasp what was going on. But Kirishima’s question snapped you fully awake, and you squirmed against his body. “No, no, don’t do that.” You mumbled.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m gonna pump you nice and full, you’ll feel all warm and round. Look so cute like this.” He grunted, going harder and harder with his hips.

Then he angled just right, striking your sweet spot, and you cried out in pleasure, bucking your hips involuntarily. “Mm, there we go. Feels good, doesn’t it honey?”

It was a rhetorical question - you were too busy writhing on Kirishima’s cock to answer, one of his hands pressing flat over your stomach to feel the subtle bulge of his cock as he fucked into your guts.

“Oh Kiri! Wait, I’m not-! Wait!” You whimpered, steadily reaching your orgasm. You didn’t want to cum, you needed to slow down and gather your wits, figure out what was happening and why Kirishima was here and when this had started and-

Kiri pulled out, quickly manhandling you as if you weighed nothing. He was so strong, it was easy for him to flip you onto your stomach, pulling you to your hands and knees. 

“Gonna fuck you full. You’re gonna take all of my cum, gonna get bred like a good girl, my good girl.” His teeth were clenched as he slid back home, hissing as your wet heat welcomed him. You whined at the pleasurable sensation, unable to stop your hips from fucking back, trying to take more of his cock. 

“Ohhh, fuck yeah, look at you. Knew you wanted this, wanted me. You’re so perfect, taking my cock so well. You like having my fat cock filling you up? Messing up your insides? Making you all wet and sloppy?”

His hand found its way to your clit, the area already wet from the copious amounts of slick and precum the two of you had produced. Kiri quickly began rubbing large circles over your button, thumb big and calloused and oh so good.

Kirishima’s other hand grabbed at your chest, attaching to your tit and pawing at you. He was quickly devolving into a feral man, animalistic in the way he fucked you, thrusts harsh and fast and too much but hitting you just right-

You cried out as you came, convulsing in the man’s arms at the strength of the orgasm he ripped from your body.

He didn’t take a second, spurred on by your orgams and the tightening of your cunt, and instinctively bit down on your shoulder, almost growling as he pounded into you.

“Fuck, fuck! Kiri ouch, fuck!” You yelped, his sharp teeth breaking skin.

The man paid you no heed, rabbiting his hips until he started to cum, his hot seed flowing into your pussy. His hips kept going, twitching as they slowed down until they stopped completely, both of you absolutely spent.

Nothing but the sounds of panting filled the air, and Kirishima finally unhooked his teeth from your shoulder, wincing at the stream of blood the started to roll down your back.

“Oh, baby m’sorry.” He mumbled, a bit drunk off the pleasure still coursing through his veins.  You collapsed forward, his arms no longer holding you up. 

Kirishima didn’t pull out as he laid down next to you, keeping your hips firmly cemented to his own so that none of his cum would escape, pulling you close to his body in the process. “Pretty baby, I love you. Thank you.”

It was just a dream, it had to be. You were left with no choice but to console yourself with that thought, unable (and unwilling) to think of any other possibilities. 

A wet tongue lapped at your back, Kirishima licking up the blood from the wound he inflicted. “I’ll be more gentle next time, I can be good with my teeth, I promise.”

You ignored him, letting your exhausted self flicker between awake and asleep, confused, disoriented, overwhelmed. 

What did he mean by “next time”?

[missmentelle]

How do I know if I'm burnt out and what are signs of being burnt out? In relation to both university and work?

Unfortunately, burnout is a very common problem among both university students and people in high-stress jobs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, “burnout” is effectively where people reach a breaking point after being in a high-stress occupation (like a demanding academic program or a high-pressure career) for too long. Being “burnt out” is not an official diagnosis, and you won’t find it in the ICD-11 or the DSM-V. But it’s something that an increasing number of people are experiencing every year.

Not everyone is at equal risk of experiencing burnout - many students and workers never really deal with this. Factors that put you at high risk of burnout include:

Having poor work-life balance. If you spend huge portions of your time working - working through weekends, doing tons of overtime, working late, not taking vacation, working through lunch - you are at high risk of burnout. Humans need rest, relaxation, hobbies and time with friends, and when you sacrifice those things for work, it will eventually take a toll.

Having very little control over your day-to-day tasks. No one has perfect control over their daily work tasks - not even the self-employed - but having some element of control is important. If you have a say in things like when to schedule meetings, when to book client appointments and which task you are going to work on when, you have a lower risk of burnout than someone whose tasks tend to just be dictated to them. 

Having perfectionist traits or holding yourself to very high standards. People who experience burnout tend to be overachievers. They constantly try to go above and beyond because they put immense pressure on themselves to do their best work at all times. If you’re the kind of person who beats yourself up over getting an A- instead of an A and makes a point to be the last one out of the office every day, you are at risk of burnout. 

Having a dysfunctional work or school environment. Is your workplace plagued with bullies and office gossip? Do your lab members take pleasure in ripping each other’s research and writing to shreds, without really being constructive about it? Does your boss take their bad moods out on the rest of the office, even when you haven’t done anything wrong? A dysfunctional workplace creates burned-out employees.

Having unclear instructions or directions. It is extremely difficult to be in a work environment where you are expected to do be productive, but you aren’t given clear expectations, a clear list of tasks or instructions for how those tasks should actually be performed. It leaves you constantly feeling like your work isn’t good enough and isn’t done properly, without actually giving you a route to improve; you often end up working twice as hard to get half as much done, which is a recipe for burnout. 

Working in a helping profession. Nurses, social workers, therapists, paramedics, psychologists, caregivers and caseworkers have some of the highest burnout rates of any profession. These jobs often combine long hours and low pay with incredibly stressful work environments, and burnout is a huge problem. 

Burnout is more than just feeling tired or bored of what you do. It’s a state of complete and total exhaustion. Putting more energy into your job isn’t possible when you reach that point - you have nothing left to give. “Burnout” isn’t an official diagnosis, but it is a fitting description - trying to push through burnout is like trying to re-light a candle that has already burned all the way down to the bottom. It’s just not going to happen. 

Some signs that you’ve reached the point of burnout include:

Your performance is suffering. You can’t keep going full steam ahead when you’re running on fumes. When you’re burnt out, your work performance will one of the first things that starts to slip - you may find that you are missing deadlines, forgetting things, half-assing tasks and making careless mistakes.  

You constantly feel drained. Burnout is a perpetual state of exhaustion. You’ll start to feel like you just don’t have the energy to do everything that you’re supposed to do. You’ll find that you feel tired all the time, regardless of your sleeping habits, and that just forcing yourself to do the bare minimum leaves you feeling totally depleted and unable to do much else. 

You feel disconnected and cynical toward your work. Even if you once enjoyed your work or felt passionate about it, when you’re burnt out, you become disillusioned with what you do. You may find that you’re cynical about your work, or just so apathetic that you can’t bring yourself to care about it anymore, even when you accomplish things that once mattered to you. 

You can’t concentrate. Burnout can make it difficult - if not impossible - for even the most dedicated person to focus on their tasks. You might find that you spend a lot of time just sitting in front of your computer, unable to even start tasks because you can’t focus well enough to begin something. 

You have become irritable and short-tempered. People who are burnt out have a tendency to become impatient with the people around them. When you’re running on empty, you have no energy left for social interactions. You might find that you’re snapping at coworkers or getting visibly frustrated with clients if you work in a helping profession. 

You feel anxious. Burnout is often accompanied by feelings of indistinct dread that you just can’t seem to shake. The fear and anxiety is often tied to work, and can be completely overwhelming. 

You can’t sleep. Ironically, people with burnout often have a hard time sleeping. Their minds race all night, and they find that they cannot settle down or get comfortable enough to drift off. If you can sleep, you may find that you are only able to sleep in short bursts and cannot sleep through a full night. 

Your eating habits have changed. Some people experiencing burnout find that they lose their appetites. Others find that they begin to comfort themselves with food. Significant changes in appetite and food intake can signal a serious problem. 

You feel physically ill. Being under high amounts of stress for long periods of time can destroy your health - you might find that you have a lot of symptoms with no direct physical cause, like headaches, stomach pain, nausea and body aches. You might also find that you get sick more often and get more infections as the stress wears down your immune system. 

You feel like you have to drag yourself through the day. Even if you once enjoyed your job or your school, you might start to feel like even showing up is a huge chore, and dread having to go in. You might find that it takes all of your energy to even make it through the front door each day. 

The good news is that burnout is not a permanent state; there are things you can do to recover. However, recovering from burnout is not necessarily easy - this is not something you can quick-fix with a self-help book, and you may need to make significant lifestyle changes. Some things you can do to fix or prevent burnout include:

Set firm boundaries. If possible, stop taking work home. Stop signing up for extra shifts and overtime every time it’s available. Don’t volunteer to organize every single office party and baby shower. Stop answering work emails after 5pm. Don’t check your email on the weekends. Don’t respond to emails on vacation. Set firm boundaries between “work time” and “me time” - especially if you work from home, where it’s easier for work and life to bleed together. 

Use every minute of your paid time off. A lot of people just don’t use up all their PTO every year because they’re worried they’re letting the company down by taking vacation. Stop that. If you have vacation days, use them. Use your sick time too - if you don’t get sick that often, use them as mental health days. If you’re a student, ask professors for extensions when you’re sick - more and more professors are getting on board with cutting students some slack for life events. 

Unplug from productivity culture. Our culture has a pathological obsession with productivity, and it’s killing us. We consume books and blogs and podcasts about how to squeeze as much productivity out of ourselves as possible. It has to stop. Unsubscribe from this kind of content. You don’t need to put more pressure on yourself to optimize and monetize every second of your day - it’s not healthy. 

Seek support. Talk to a therapist, a doctor or a friend. Get professional help or just find people you can vent to. Try to form friendships with some of your coworkers or fellow students, especially if you work in the helping professions - they know better than anyone what you are going through. 

Prioritize your physical health. When you neglect your physical health, you are more likely to burn out - you run out of fuel faster when you have less in the tank to begin with. Prioritize eating healthy meals and getting all the nutrients you need. Make a habit of exercising. Practice good sleep hygiene and try to improve your sleep. 

Talk to your supervisor, advisor or boss. Are there things about your specific work or school environment that could be improved for you? Could you be transferred to a new team? Do your roles and responsibilities need to be clarified so you know exactly what is expected of you? Do you need additional training to do your job well? Are you dealing with harassment that could be reported to HR? See what can be fixed. 

Consider a change. Sometimes you just need a change of pace after a while. Many social workers, for instance, eventually leave the profession - a lot of people simply have a lifetime limit on how long they can do that kind of work before they need to switch to something that doesn’t involve human horror every day. If burnout is a consistent problem, it might be time to think about taking a leave of absence, changing to a different role, or switching careers altogether. 

Hope this answers your question! MM

[escher-room-with-a-view]

elaborating on my autism headcanons!!

- sarah -

her special interests are usually between one and three. once she develops a special interest, it stays with her for years; in fact, some of her interests, like reading and writing, have been with her for as long as she can remember. her other special interests are theatre and arts and crafts; the latter is quite a broad category, but it includes things like sewing, felting, embroidery, watercolor painting, book binding, and making collages. sarah delves further into her interests the more they’re encouraged, but she also uses them as coping mechanisms to feel better about or distract herself from the real world around her. in the cases of acting and crafts, she uses these to express how she feels, whereas reading and writing are used more as forms of escapism. her favorite genre of literature is fantasy, though she doesn’t mind any particular fantasy subgenres and is willing to broaden her knowledge of the genre by reading most of them. meanwhile, she isn’t anywhere near as selective when it comes to theatre. so long as there’s a soundtrack and cast that resonates with her, she doesn’t care if it’s opera or ballet, tragedy or comedy, contemporary or dating back thousands of years. indeed, she doesn’t ever feel like her knowledge of theatre is complete—and while it feels unattainable, she’d like to develop at least a cursory knowledge of every play there is.

sarah stims by talking to herself, chewing on her lips or hair, pacing, doing needlework, doodling, and absentmindedly writing. she also has echolalia, repeating the same word or phrase to herself either out loud or in her head; certain phrases can get stuck in her head for weeks on end. she’s rather quiet when she talks to herself—in fact, most of the time, she just whispers or mutters. furthermore, when pacing, she walks in circles or back and forth. she doesn’t use stim toys very much because they don’t appeal to her, though she does like the idea of making her own stim toys and other objects, such as slime or reversibles.

her relationship with routine is complicated. on the one hand, she doesn’t take change well and has difficulty adapting to new situations, especially those that are unfamiliar and stressful. this means that, to some extent, she prefers it when things stay the same. however, this is more of a general status quo sort of sameness that she likes to maintain. on a smaller level, she’s easily bored by sameness and likes it when at least one novel or interesting thing happens each day. for instance, if sarah has gone to the same school her entire life, she’s going to be upset—even devastated—if circumstances force her to change schools without any sort of preparation or warning. however, if her commute to the school every day is identical, she’ll grow bored of it easily and may one day consider taking a different path there just to see what happens.

sarah tends to struggle with eye contact and, on the rare occasions that she wants to maintain it, has to force herself to do so. it makes her immensely uncomfortable to look someone in the eye for an extended period of time. while irene sometimes mistakes this for her not listening, sarah is trying to explain that it’s not something within her control.

she is hyposensitive to (and indeed fascinated with) colors and lights. however, loud noises bother her and can be painful for her. sarah also prefers not to be touched unless she initiates the contact first. being touched without her permission startles her and makes her immensely uncomfortable, as does being surrounded or cornered; all of these can easily overwhelm her in the right circumstances. she hates haunted houses for this exact reason. her hyposensitivity also extends to texture and physical sensations, albeit not in the same way; rather than being obsessed with or actively seeking out sensations and textures, sarah is so hyposensitive to both of them that she sometimes doesn’t even notice sensory input unless it’s excruciatingly painful or needs constant adjusting. her senses of taste and smell are neither above nor below what’s considered average, though she has a preference for sweets, white meat, and anything crunchy. 

something else that she and jareth have in common is the fact that their living spaces, specifically their rooms, both have to be organized in a very specific way. any alterations in this organization are bothersome and overwhelming to the both of them; this includes rearranging or removing objects, changing the location of the room entirely, or changes in things like how much light or air the room receives. 

- jareth -

he tends to have a lot of special interests at a time, and they change often. his current ones are architecture, illusions, astronomy, fashion, humans/anthropology/sociology, various pseudosciences, and surrealist art. however, in the past he’s been interested in ornithology, geology, romanticism in art and literature, the labyrinth’s prehistory, wordplay and rhetorical/literary devices, cats, different types of governments, letter writing, collecting trinkets and antiques, choreography, and many, many more. living for such a long time has provided him with the opportunity to both develop and engage in a wide variety of passions. in fact, some of these past special interests still remain with him today and simply aren’t considered his “main” ones anymore because they’re not as strong.

his favorite pseudosciences are graphology, phrenology, and astrology. he also likes to try and determine the future via methods like alectromancy, astromancy, augury, scrying, and lithomancy.

he stims using crystals/via contact juggling. this is usually when he’s understimulated, absentminded, or just needs something to occupy himself with. it’s also enjoyable to him. he has other ways of stimming, though, many of which are meant to self-soothe. for instance, feeling nervous or excited might drive him to shake one leg or hand; he also feels compelled to chew on things in such instances. when overwhelmed, he scratches his arms as one would if they had an itch. jareth is trying to stop doing this and is thus looking for alternatives. he views stim toys as some of humanity’s greatest inventions. if he lived aboveground, i imagine he’d have different versions of the same stim toys for different purposes: neutral colors when he needs to prevent overstimulation, bright colors when he’s just stimming because it makes him happy.

he doesn’t mind loud noises, but he is sensitive to bright lights and colors. in fact, he’s so nonchalant toward noise that, when he listens to music, he likes for it to be as loud as possible. in his mind, good music is never quite loud enough. there are certain textures and tastes he doesn’t like, which drives him to be very selective with what he wears and what he eats. with regards to clothing, he likes silk and leather but can’t stand wool, denim, anything baggy or distressed, or velvet. because he conducts magic through his hands, he has sensitive palms; his gloves allow him to touch things without being bothered by them, while also allowing him to use magic undeterred. he’s especially sensitive around food, preferring things that are bland or savory and refusing to eat anything with a consistency that’s too soft. for instance, he finds eggs revolting in most forms.

without a routine, jareth tends to become dejected or burnt out. unfortunately, though, his frequent executive dysfunction makes it difficult for him to plan out and adhere to routines without frequent reminders—which, when they come in the form of goblins, usually annoy him more than anything else. this is why he hasn’t had a proper schedule in years. it’s a bit of a vicious cycle; his unhappiness has led to a lack of motivation, and his difficulty creating something he can stick to has made him even more unhappy. he works best with clear, written instructions that are placed where he can see them. he especially needs specific times to eat and sleep; without them, irritability and physical discomfort set in. in the event that he does have a routine, changes that might seem small to others are often nerve-racking to him.

though he sometimes uses eye contact and close proximity to others to intimidate, he genuinely feels uncomfortable without eye contact and has difficulty remembering to mind others’ personal space most of the time. he can be quite touchy-feely when he cares about someone—even platonically—and isn’t afraid of showing it, but he doesn’t really know when or if to back off unless explicitly told to.

- didymus -

when it comes to special interests, he and sarah have a lot in common. they both love drama and literature; however, didymus has a particular interest in folklore, both that of humans and that of the labyrinth. he only has two special interests: literature (including plays) and history. both of these influenced his desire to become a knight and continue to influence his behavior, as he seeks to emulate the idea of a noble and valiant knight to a T. he has some difficulty responding appropriately to or understanding various social cues. as a result, he spends most of his nights and some of his mornings scripting out how his day is going to go: how he’s going to speak to other people, how they might respond to him, and how he’s going to respond to their responses. whenever didymus makes a new friend, he puts effort into studying their mannerisms and personality so he can adequately pinpoint how they might behave toward him and thus figure out how he’s going to interact with them. furthermore, he speaks and acts like a gallant knight from a fairytale or play because of his constant reading. his consumption of literature provides him with a consistent model of behavior that’s bound by a set of rules, unlike the behavior of people in the real world—which can often be unpredictable, and whose rules are less coherent. as a result, didymus believes that emulating the kinds of characters he admires will make others admire him in turn, and make him easier to understand. 

his favorite earth authors are william shakespeare, miguel de cervantes, and alexandre dumas. he is also especially fond of arthurian legend and various human mythologies, such as norse, celtic, and japanese.

one of his favorite ways to stim is by chasing or wagging his tail. he also stims by absentmindedly practicing swordfighting moves with his cane, scratching behind his ear with a hind paw, pacing, and talking to himself. pacing is the only one out of all of these that doesn’t lift his spirits; rather, he does it when he’s thinking because it helps his ideas flow. didymus is most inclined to chase his tail or scratch his ears when he’s bored, practice his parries when excited, and talk to himself when he’s overwhelmed. in the last case, this is often combined with pacing; together, both stims provide a good release for emotions he has difficulty expressing otherwise. when didymus talks to himself, he is unlike sarah in that he doesn’t do so quietly. his volume remains the same as it usually is in a conversation; when he grows passionate, it raises accordingly. sarah introduced him to stim toys; his favorite ones are the ones that make noise, whether they click or woosh or do something else. he also uses dog toys as substitutes and enjoys the ones that squeak, though he has to keep his own set somewhere where ambrosius won’t find it.

his strongest sense by far is his sense of smell; it isn’t necessarily a lot of scents at once that can be upsetting for him, but rather scents that he finds unpleasant. these include sharp or chemical smells such as vinegar, ammonia, spices, perfume, citrus, alcohol, cleaning products, and herbs. aside from these, there aren’t any smells he can confidently say he doesn’t like. he also has hypersensitive hearing and prefers soft classical music, hymns and chants, or music that dates back thousands of years. he hates the sound of bells chiming, loud drums, or thunder; the last of these especially bothers him, though he would never admit it. he was once bothered by the sound of metal objects clanging together when he was a kit, but he appears to have outgrown that in particular. he has poor color vision, as do most canines, so bright colors don’t affect him at all. he finds flashing lights mildly frightening in some cases and annoying in others.

to didymus, routine is the thief of joy. he craves adventure every day and hates when things are the exact same; even having to do the same task in the same way as he did the day before, for instance, is enough to bore him out of his skull. as a result, he likes to mix up how he does things by placing his daily activities in different orders, doing them with his friends, or replacing some activities with others entirely. for instance, he, hoggle, and ludo take turns with household chores—not only so that they can share responsibilities, but so that didymus can have time to go off and pursue his knightly dreams. much of the time, his friends are willing to accompany him on his adventures so long as he’s able to keep them safe—and so long as they can be home by dinner.

he doesn’t really like eye contact, but he tries to maintain it because he thinks doing so is respectful. he does see one perk to his small stature; he’s too short to meet eyes with most people, so his lack of eye contact usually isn’t judged. it wouldn’t be either way because almost everyone in the labyrinth either is ND or knows someone who is ND, but he really does want to maintain eye contact because the books he reads make him think that it’s the proper thing to do. his friends are trying to convince him that he doesn’t need to make eye contact if it makes him uncomfortable; however, because he seems to believe that it’s a rule, he has difficulty convincing himself not to follow it. in fact, didymus is very much inclined to follow the rules that are provided to him and becomes anxious when encouraged or required to break them. without clear rules, the world becomes nonsensical and unpredictable—and therefore upsetting—to him. it was his idea to propose a set of rules for his friends’ home; they accepted and have worked together to write them down so that guests know how to behave.

he gets along really well with the wiseman; despite his typical impatience, didymus is one of few people who actually have the patience to listen to the wiseman. in fact, didymus isn’t just patient with him; his ramblings actively intrigue didymus, and whenever he has the opportunity he makes his contributions as big as he possibly can. didymus really appreciates it when his friends let him infodump, and he figures it’s only fair that he should let others do the same. in fact, didymus also places a lot of value on fairness; it’s the whole reason he opposes jareth in the first place.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hey I want to ask for Levi with a fem s/o were she tries to cook for him but while doing it makes a complet mess out of the kitchen.. s/o cant cook but wanted to try for Levi :( scenario if you have time please 🌼

I'm so excited to post this, originally I would have taken another path but these past few weeks I've been thinking about this story a lot and I wanted to write an interesting take on fluff. Hope you enjoy❤️

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Warnings: beware! F L U F F, I wouldn't say this features mentions of PTSD, but anyways it could touch a similar topic

Tags: Hurt/ Comfort, all the fluff.

The nightmare before our fifth anniversary

The devastating sight of a kitchen covered in oil, flour and unevenly chopped vegetables would be enough to make every clean freak in the world, inside or outside of the walls scream in agony but it only sent concerned shivers down to Levi's spine.

He could only feel his poor heart sink as his eyes paced around the room in a panicked state. The unpleasant smell of smoke that came from the fireplace only sent hot rushes of blood to his newly throbbing head.

In a haze, he tried to puzzle the pieces together, to figure out what had actually happened. With a quick check around the small space he was assured that all windows were indeed in perfect condition, not a single crack or scratch adorning them. In addition had been locked when he entered, a fact he was amusingly certain of.

Had this been an attack, surely the attacker must have had entered the cabin someway. The lack of blood and physical struggle around the room though, slowly put his mind at ease as he took a step at a time, heading to your shared bedroom.

Glancing around he found traces of tiny vegetable pieces, some flour -or so it seemed- and water. In many places they were mixed together, creating the weirdest mass of sticky residue; such filth was an unusual decoration to his house yet his cleaning obsession instincts refused to mingle with his thoughts just yet.

"(y/n)?" With the calling of your name he heard a saddened tune. He knew, he definitely shouldn't have felt so relieved to the sound, still your situation was unbeknownst to him, but it was a sign that you were certainly still able to make noises.

As his shaking hand reached to push the wooden door of your bedroom open, he tried to shake all horrible thoughts out of his head.

"You're home early."

His eyes widened at the sight of you, feet sprinting on their own to your direction; you sat with your back against the closet door, your hands scrunched in weak fists resting on your cheeks, just underneath your eyes, wiping rivers of tears. Worry splashed on his chest in ice cold swepts as he kneeled down beside you, taking your hand in his in the process.

It was in that moment that he noticed you were covered in flour and unevenly teeny pieces of chopped vegetables. The sight immediately put his otherwise puzzled mind at work and in a second it had clicked to him. Naturally, it all came to fit in the bigger picture, he was proved wrong on his unitial guess on this being a home invasion.

A failed attempt at cooking, that's what it was.

The way that you burried your face in the flat of your palms was as painful for him to witness as it was for you to endure. You were panicking, the sheer terror of his reaction to the mess of the house bullied the insides of your ribs by twisting and turning them, burning them to the point you had to leave pained whimpers escape you.

It was so hard for you to look him in the eye and admit what you had done. Yet, your own embarrassment wouldn't allow you to torture yourself more than what you had already.

"D-don't yell at me, Levi"

"Now, why would I?"

With an exaggerated movement, his hand came to mingle in the space under your jawline. Another sudden wave of hot salty tears threatened to spill out of the corners of your eyes as you melted under the feathery drag of his fingers across the nape of your neck.

His mellow touch was soothing and comforting; forgiving even. It made your whole body fall into serenity as you leaned your head into his palm. Your own hand came to palm under his, your chest letting out a pleased hum as your furrowed brows finally curved upwards in a relieved manner.

"There was a time I knew how to cook. Before all that." you spoke low, voice barely over a whisper as your throat threatened not to hold back the lamp of cries that had gathered at the depths of it. "All I wanted was for us to have a nice anniversary dinner Levi."

You couldn't bear to look him in the eye just yet; your heart hammered inside your chest, anxiously preventing you from ensuring another comforting antic of his to yourself despite your need for it.

You hated yourself for not being able to exceed this simple domestic mission.

"It's fine," he eagerly spoke, his tone mimicking yours "you didn't have to cook on your own. We could just go to a nice restaurant."

"No, Levi! I wanted to make you those duck stuffed eggplants that you like! Why am I so useless that I can't even cook? Seems like all I know is how to put on odm gear and kill Titans while I'm at it."

His other hand came underneath yours. After having finally trapped your hand in between his fists he dragged your mingled hands to your chest, resting them right on top of your heart. Your pulse tightened, your heart threatened to spill in gory manners from the gaps between your ribs, this action was all too familiar to you, all too traumatic for you to momentarily try to endure. It struck you, though, in between coarse breaths and a sudden realisation that plastered wide shock in your eyes that this wasn't a salute. His slow hands wouldn't let go of yours; through your chasted breathing he could feel your whimpering heartbeat, the feeling causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise.

When, at last, your eyes fell into his the silence in the room became overbearing, the familiar buzzing that emitted from such lack of sound was sending your thoughts into a haze as your chest started to pulse with an all familiar warmth.

Surely enough your head wanted to guilt trip you and maybe pester you for not being able to simply mix ingredients together, but your heart ever melting under Levi's affections was invested in its counterattack against your intoxicating brain. When he finally batted his eyes, a little too loudly at it, to prepare your ears to endure the sudden incoming words he was about to utter, you goggled at him desperately. As if you were asking for forgiveness your eyes watered again, a whole new wave of tears shaking you whole.

"Please allow me to drown those tears, we'll prepare a meal together alright? I will show you how." He whispered and crashed his body onto yours respectfully, his chin now sat at the space between your neck and your shoulder. It was a much necessary physical connection that you would never get enough. The warmth that spread from his whole body through every aspect of him that was in contact with you was enough to help you feel anew. Had you previously melted under his touch, now you felt like you were ready for be molded, your existence flickering between the consistencies of melted wax and gooey sand.

In addition to his soothing words, the achingly beautiful gesture that still sat on the left side of your chest burnt holes through your shirt and your skin. His eyes on you were gleaming as if he had ordered the outside world to come to an alt, everything in you screamed for his calloused hands to get a good grip of your heart while he was at it. It should serve him as a well deserved trophy in a solo collection, him the rightful owner of your heart could do as he pleased it so long you could feel him hold you like that.

"Could I take one hand out of our grasp to bring close to me properly?"

Your answer was inaudible, yet he manages to figure it was of positive nature due to the short nod of your head in the name of his neck. He prompted himself a few inches back, despairate not to break much contact with you and reluctantly unleashed his right hand from yours. Before you managed to protest of the prolonged departure of his body on yours though, his hand shot tenderly on your cheek, cupping the soft skin in an urging motion.

The kiss he planted on the apple of your cheek was followed by another on your eyelid, he tired to ignore the ticklish feeling caused by your lashes brushimg against his contact sensitive lips but it was to no avail, a smuh had made it to his mouth before he manages to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"I really love you Levi, I'm glad you're in my life, I say this type of things every single year but-"

Your words were cut short as soon as they had began to form, only as his lips slammed against yours. In a matter of seconds he was moving feverishly, gluttony defining his earth shattering kisses and not even for a second did you hold back in returning the actions with fiery passion.

"I don't speak of this often," out of breath, he pulled back "but I do love you, so very dearly."

Before he could process the endearing look in your eyes, you pulled him in for a kiss once again, lips trembling to meet up with your hearts expectations. If there was a way to show him how you loved him this was it, the soft mingling of each other as you bit and sucked and fought for his lips to never leave yours, pressing his head impossibly close to you.

You knew what your answer should be, a short telltale of the way he made you feel a few moments ago would serve your feelings justice before you could press your aching lips on his once again.

"You could do as you please with my heart and I'd thank you, please don't ever leave me!"

"I won't, I promise. I couldn't be able to push forward without the one who holds my own heart."

Tags: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @alrightberries @nobody-knows-anymore @miss-consulting-timelord am I forgetting anyone?? Pls I'm not good with taglists

[soft-luke]

Welcome home │ Luke Hemmings

Request: Hi! I don’t know if you’d be interested but could I please request a imagine to Luke’s reaction to the reader suddenly stepping out, wearing a kimono robe like Rose’s from the Titanic movie? Sorry, I’ve never requested something leading a little towards smut. If you want to write it, you can choose to lead it to smut if you want. I mean, I wouldn’t complain. Your writing is fantastic and I love it! 🥰

A/N: I expanded this a lot, when I intended it to be very short. Here we are, with 1.5k words.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: oral (female receiving)

You’ve been counting the days since Luke had left to go on tour with the band. For the last week, you had started to count the days until he would be back. You had to survive one more night without him until you could drive to the airport and meet him there again. It wasn’t the same to sleep in your bed without Luke, it wasn’t the same to cook something in the kitchen. He was at the other end of the world, performing in various cities and countries. Of course, you were insanely proud of him, but you also missed your boyfriend. One side of your bed was always cold against your skin, pillows on the sofa were looking as good as new, his favourite food was missing in the fridge and you even missed his clothes that were usually scattered around the house. Eventually, you decided to use the remaining time to prepare the house for Luke’s arrival.

When you had dressed and grabbed the car keys, you headed to the garage and jumped into the car. Your phone ringed and with a smile, you took it out of your pocket, smiling at the picture on the screen. Warmth filled you at the sight of Luke’s smile on the picture. You picked up the call, the smile resting on your lips when you leaned back into the driver’s seat. “Lu?” The excitement could be heard in your voice, making Luke smile as well. “Good morning, baby,” he chuckled, brushing through his curls. “We will head to the airport soon,” he continued, making your heart jump for a second. You finally started to properly realise how close you were to seeing your boyfriend again, to hold him in your arms, feel his warmth and hear his laugh. “I am so excited to see you again. I am about to go and buy us sweets,” you admitted, closing the car door. Luke’s laughter could be heard through the phone, giving you chills almost immediately. It sounded like music in your ears, something pure and heart-warming whenever you heard it. “Just around 24 hours to go,” he assured again, a crackling noise interrupting him. In the next moment, Luke sighed. “I have to go now. I’ll text you and I love you.” He had hung up before you could tell him you loved him too. It wasn’t the first time this happened. You understood he was often in a rush and didn’t have the time to stay in hour-long calls with you. A sigh fell from your lips, before you started the car and drove to the city.

After you had bought sweets and a few more drinks for you and Luke, you went into a clothes store for new Pajamas. Your old ones weren’t comfortable anymore and the ones your mum had gifted you had been burnt when you managed to set them on fire because of a candle on the sofa table. A black Kimono robe caught your attention and you walked towards it, looking for your size. That would be a perfect surprise for Luke and you loved to surprise your boyfriend. A Kimono robe was something you had never brought up before or even thought of, so it would be a nice experience as well, one that would be connected to more intimacy. It was welcomed though, after you didn’t see Luke for such a long time.

The rest of the day was uneventful and consisted of you cleaning the house a bit, playing with Petunia and waiting for the day to find an end. Sunset arrived eventually, shortly after your pizza arrived as well and after that, you went to sleep, tightly hugging Luke’s pillow again. You were quick to dress the next morning, taking Petunia with you when you walked to your car to pick Luke up from the airport. The closer you got to the airport, the more your body filled with excitement. You waited in the car, knowing the paps would love to get a picture of you. Quickly, you texted Luke, a shiver running down your spine when he sent you a message back, telling you he was on the way. You really couldn’t wait until your boyfriend would be in your arms again. And it really didn’t take too long anymore until you could see Luke on the outside of the car door. With a big grin, you unlocked the door, letting him inside. His curls were messy, eyes a little tired, but the smile on his lips was very much present. “I missed you,” you immediately whispered, almost tearing up. “I missed you too.” Luke leaned over, pressing a kiss to your lips and sending chills through your body. You had missed the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hands when they rested on your waist. He carefully pulled away, leaning his head against the door window, while you started to drive again. Just when you wanted to ask him about the tour, snoring filled the silent car and a chuckle escaped your lips. He tended to be quite sleepy, but that he fell asleep almost immediately was surprising enough.

When you parked inside your garage, you glanced to see if Luke was awake yet. Your boyfriend moved a hand through his curls, the other hand rubbing over his eyes. “Good morning,” you smiled, catching a tired smile from him. “I missed home,” he admitted, before leaving the car and letting Petunia outside as well. The dog was quick to try and jump into Luke’s arms, who was still a little too tired to pick her up. You left the car and leaned against it, watching your boyfriend stroke his dog. “I missed you a lot,” he chuckled, before finally picking Petunia up and carrying her inside. You went ahead and grabbed Luke’s bags, heading inside after him. He seemed to be fairly awake again. Luke was sitting on the floor, jacket hanging over the sofa while he played with the happy dog. You used the opportunity to go upstairs and place his bags down, but also change into the robe you had bought. You put your hair into a messy bun, since Luke had told you many times how he loved to see you like this. For a moment, you hesitated and looked into the big mirror, not being confident anymore. What if Luke didn’t like this? Would he be angry? Disappointed? You gulped, closing your eyes for a second. It had to work out. Luke would never turn something like this down.

You walked downstairs again, already hearing your boyfriend in the kitchen, probably making tea. “Luke?” You asked slowly, not getting him to look at you yet. He was fixated to his phone, scrolling through messages while moving waiting for the tea. You hid your disappointment for now, stepping closer, until he looked at you. For him, this sight was not only surprising, but also amazing. You looked wonderful in that robe, but at the same time, he felt his fingertips burning with the desire to touch you. “Baby, that looks amazing.” He placed his phone down on the table, stepping a little closer to you. You could feel his breath against your lips, his left hand going around your waist to pull you against his body. “I love you,” he whispered, leaning further down to press his lips against yours. The kiss started out slow and innocent, his hands roaming over your back, taking in the feeling of soft silk, while you had your arms around his neck. Luke lifted you up, placing you down on the kitchen table and pulling away from the kiss, leaving you almost breathless. “You look simply amazing,” he breathed out, fingers lingering from your hands over your arm, before they started to open the Kimono robe. When it was off you, cold air hit your body, goosebumps spreading on your skin, before warmth returned with Luke’s kisses. He started with your shoulder, making his way down over your breasts to your middle. His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them down. You were already wet, excited to finally be this close again to your boyfriend. Luke grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, before starting to circle his tongue over your clit. A shiver ran down your spine, excitement filling your body while Luke’s movements became faster. Your legs started to shake, Luke grabbing them and holding them spread apart. His laugh against your core made you moan, closing your eyes in the same moment. His tongue moved through your folds, making your body shiver over and over again. His picked up the pace, the grin not leaving his lips and when you got closer to your high, he started to eat you out a little faster. Waves of pleasure rolled over you, your hands pulling at his hair while a loud moan escaped your lips again. It took you a second to calm down, Luke standing up again and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Time for the next round, love.”

[aparticularbandit]

Bly + 48!

(Also, I know you’re currently focused on another fic but wanted to let you know I adore your Bly fic. It’s so satisfying seeing Dani come to terms with Viola, Viola finding her way back to humanity, and Jamie steadfast in her love and support. I don’t often see imagery when I read, but the way you write them rings so true that it makes it so easy to feel like I’m “watching” this story. Excited for what’s to come!)

Thank you so much!!  I’ve missed writing it, but I also felt a little bit like I was going in circles.  I’ll probably do a reread of it before I get back into writing it, but I’m looking forward to going back!  Right now I think I just need a brain refresher of “you have written a lot on these things consistently and am not burnt out but could get there” so.  ><;;;; But!  I’m really glad you’re enjoying it!  Thank you so much for everything!

Your prompt is below, and I’ve also posted it on AO3 here if that is easier.�� ^^

fifty ways to kiss someone prompt 48: …out of habit.

It’s easy.  A thoughtless thing.  She doesn’t even realize she’s doing it when it happens – that curling towards the other while she is in that sluggish moment of just barely awake and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.  In fact, she is so far from being fully conscious that it takes a few minutes before she realizes she’s done it at all, snuggling closer against the other’s back and hiding her head between her shoulder blades.

It isn’t until the other speaks – “Blimey, your lips are cold” – in a soft, much more awake murmur that Dani feels that shock of panic straight in the middle of her chest, snapping her to full awareness, eyes focusing on the few, indiscriminate marks that she’s decided are closest to freckles (or would be, if there were more of them) on the gardener’s back.  (She prefers to focus on these than the marks she knows come from something far worse – or, at least, suspects that they are, given what the other woman has told her of her past, given that is all she has to guess from.)

“Sorry!”  Dani scoots back and away, pulling the blankets with her without thought – there is so much acting and not enough thinking, and she blames that she finally felt relaxed for the first time in over a year, and relaxing means that she doesn’t quite think things through, and the fact that she has relaxed in a place where she has only ever been with one other person—

Who, notably, is dead and has been haunting her and perhaps this is truly the first time she has been without him in years, too—

“Ex-boyfriend spooking you again?” Jamie asks, turning to face her, curving closer beneath the blankets that have unwittingly been stolen from her.  She glances around the room, seeing nothing, because there isn’t anything ghostly to see – not in Bly Manor, not anymore (as far as they know, although the children would tell them otherwise). “Just point him out to me.  We’ll have a right nice talk.”  She turns back to Dani with a little nod.  “It isn’t proper for boys to look in on girls like this. I take offense.”

Dani is conscious enough to think now, so she keeps herself from reaching out, from taking Jamie’s chin between her fingers and tapping it with her thumb. Another habit.  An old one.  One she’d had to train herself to, so long ago, when she’d been with someone else entirely.  Someone else she’d loved, even though it wasn’t quite like this.  All those years compared to only a few weeks, at most, and still nothing to compare with this.

Instead, Dani shakes her head, looking down, forcing herself to remember where she is and who she is with and to not act without thinking again.  Not because she’s afraid – she isn’t; Jamie could never make her afraid – and not because she’s ashamed – except that she is, she is ashamed, and that shame makes her afraid.  “No. He’s gone.  He’s not coming back.”

“Good thing.”  Jamie rests against the pillow, hair tousled and spread against it.  She looks at Dani, really looks at her – there’s always a weight to that sort of thing, and Dani felt it and the pressure that came with it when she was with Eddie, but here there’s no pressure, only that fondness – and a smile traces her lips.  “What were you doing kissing my back?  I’d say it’s a wee bit too early for seconds.”

Dani flushes a bright red only made brighter by the sun filtering through the window.  There’s a long crack that stretches across the floor just to the edges of their feet, splitting them apart – the shadow of a crack in one of the panes that had been filled in a long, long time ago.  Not as old as the manor itself, but close to it, perhaps.  There are so many things that are so old here that loom and linger and hold a haunting weight to them that Dani cannot – will not – deny.

“It wasn’t that,” she murmurs, unable to look up and meet Jamie’s eyes. “I wasn’t thinking.  It was an accident.”

“A happy accident?”

Dani shakes her head, still refusing to look up, still not wanting to meet Jamie’s eyes.  She doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to bring that into this when it feels like that’s all she has been doing the entire time they’ve been together.  Three steps forward and two steps back, although this feels more like it will be four steps back, if she says it at all.

“Look, Poppins, I’m not going to bite you.”  Jamie hesitates again, then grins, tongue sticking out the slightest bit between her teeth.  “Unless that’s what you want.”

Dani bites her lower lip and shivers.  Not from the cold, not from desire.  “It was a habit,” she murmurs instead, voice soft.  “I wasn’t even thinking.  My brain is so used to—”  She shakes her head, refusing to say it, refusing to let the words be said aloud where they can be heard and acknowledged without having to be implicitly understood.  “I’m sorry.”

There’s a nod – she can see that, still, just barely, without having to look up – and then Jamie’s fingers are beneath her chin, slowly lifting it so that their eyes just meet.  In the same heartbeat of a moment, Dani looks away, over to that crack between their feet slowly growing larger.  “I’m sorry,” she repeats again, voice small and smaller still.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”  Jamie runs her thumb along the edge of Dani’s chin, edge of her cropped nail slowly pressing into her skin.  Not enough to be painful, enough to show that it’s there.  “You had a hell of a last relationship.  You put yourself on automatic, you’re gonna forget.  Just means it was a relationship your body remembers.  It’s not bad.  Most cases, that’s something good.”  She moves closer, crossing the crack, and presses a kiss to Dani’s lips.  “Just means I have to stay around longer to overwrite it.  Right?”

Dani nods, her nose brushing against Jamie’s, and glances up just enough to finally meet her eyes.  “You want to stay that long?”

“We’ll see,” Jamie answers, grinning again, not breaking the eye contact. “Can’t make promises this soon. Want to see how it all plays out. That good with you, Poppins?”

“Sure.”

[tracle0]

22/11

I was tagged by @joyful-soul-collector​ (thank you this is possibly one of my favourite tag games) ... Okay also also before I could finish this up, @hyba also tagged me so uh it’s 22/11 instead, ty ty. You two might want to check the tag list cause uhhh you might be there who knows not me c:

The rules are: Answer the 11 (22 this time but hush) questions, make up your own 11 and then tag... I think it’s 11 people but I don’t know 11 people who I haven’t already tagged so...

I sort of started spamming pictures to answer a question so I’m gonna... put the pictures under the cut. 

1. Have any of your OCs ever stolen something? What did they steal, and why? Oh yeah sure - the first one I can think of easily is Cain. He used to live on the streets so had to steal to survive. But he’d also work for money. He’s not heartless, just desperate. 

Also now I’m thinking about it, Tag would definitely be the kind of guy to just... hey I know I’m meant to hand this gear in but... no-one will miss it so.... he steals to amuse himself with the gadgets he gets. 

2. Did you ever have imaginary friends as a kid? What were they like? I copied my sister in having pretend animal friends, but not really. Who needs imaginary friends when you have real-life ones lol I was a lot more liked as a kid.

3. Do any of your  OCs have a favorite article of clothing? Why is it their favorite?

Uhhhh

Um.

Yeah, you could say that. 

Andy likes his hoodie because it’s a thing that is only his. He didn’t get it from Murdock, I honestly don’t know WHERE he got it from, but it’s his, and the fact he owns anything means a lot to him.

Cain likes his because it’s one of the few things left over from when he was younger and again, it’s his. He didn’t steal it. It belongs to Only Him. He feels comfortable in it. 

4. What do you fist develop about a character when you make one up? Do you think of their appearance first? Their personality? Their backstory?

Honestly? It depends. Backstory always comes after, but personality and appearance often intersect. I know for WIP 3 I thought of personality and traits first, and for Collateral it was appearance first. I think for Sonder it was more.. their role in the story? ‘Oh hey this is the antagonist, this is the protagonist, this is the love interest wait I hate romance, okay, side kick’ etc

5. Fluff or Angst?

If it’s not romantic? Fluff. I made myself angsty enough when I was younger, I want more happiness in my life.

6. Remember the color of that dress that everyone was debating about however many years ago? The one that was blue and black, or white and gold? What colors did you see?

The correct colours.

7. Pick your bubbliest, happiest OC. Now tell me what will make them turn into your worst nightmare. I wanna see what makes them the angriest.

Oh boy, let’s see uhhh... Tag. Tag from WIP 3 who is undergoing the process of a name change. 

Seeing someone he loves die would twist him. Being isolated would eventually break him. Being unable to do what he loves would definitely upset him also. 

Also idk if you’ve heard about it but in his world, there’s a nifty ability called being a silvertongue and I know at least one silvertongue is not gonna exploit this but I also know of another who would even on this19-year-old kid so maybe it’s not by choice but that could make him a nightmare. Just sayin’

8. Now pick your angstiest, most emo OC. And tell me what would make them blush and giggle like an idiot. I wanna see what makes them the happiest.

Okay for this one it’s a tie I write a lot of angsty characters. 

>Andy - seeing something just. Really funny. Oh did Sam just fall over in a ridiculous way? Fantastic. That’s actually how they first have a proper conversation. Sam falls over, he laughs, they talk.

>Cain - anything awesome that Duck does. Oh hey what’s up Goose oh you drew this radical picture? /tearing up/ it’s so great oh my gosh you’re so talented. That’s more being happy than giggling but can you see Cain giggling? No, me neither. 

9. If you could have any mythical creature for a pet, what would it be?

Dragon, next question.

10. What’s your go-to thing for when you’re hungry but don’t have time/energy to cook something?

Fruit! It is! Very good! And tasty! Apples have a good cronch! Oranges are mmmm juicy. Banana? Yes nice thank you. Oh wow we have strawberries? What a sweet treat. Also healthy!

11. Do any of your OCs have scars? Would they be confident enough to show them in public (like at the beach)?

Oh yeah sure man. Andy’s got multiple from... ‘training’. He doesn't show them off. Cain, Duck and Theo have all been badly burnt on the arms, and Cain ‘’shows it off’’ just because it makes him uncomfortable to have his arms covered. And uh Raya probably has some sort of scar on her knees or elbow from rollerblading. Because you do fall over and it does scar.

And now for Hyba’s questions, lez go bois

1. What cultural value do you see in writing/reading/storytelling/etc.?

I think that without storytelling specifically, humans would be so... mundane? We’d be no different to any other animal on the planet. Creating anything, be that stories or art or literally anything is so... human. To take that away would be like taking away humanities soul. The cultural value isn’t really measurable - storytelling makes up the culture. 

2. Do you try more to be original or to deliver to readers what they want?

Honestly, I have no idea. I try to entertain myself, and if other people like it too, then that’s neat. But because I’m writing for myself, I anticipate everything, so I don’t know if it’s original or not. I know it delivers what I want! But is that readers want? Who knows!

3. As a writer, what would you choose as your mascot/avatar/spirit animal?

Crow. Not even as a writer, just... dude crows are so damn cool. 

4.  What do you think most characterizes your writing?

I’m not quite sure about the phrasing so uhhhh represents? Google is telling me ‘describes’. 

In which case, a midnight fever jolting you out of bed, moments before you could fall asleep, and puppeting you to a writing surface so you can splurge ideas onto it sounds about right. 66% of my WIPs have elements in them that were based on dreams. 

5. How do you select the names of your characters?

Mostly? Spite. ‘Oh Trade, you can’t have a bad guy named Andy, all Andy’s are good’ NOPE NOT ANYMORE SUCK IT. I also have a friend who is really good at coming up with names that fit the exact mood of the character so I go to her a lot. Sometimes they’re puns. 

6. Choose one of your OCs (or more). How would they want to be seen by others?

Sam from Sonder wants to be seen as someone people can talk to, but also someone who pursues a science because yes sociology is a science to her, shut up, don’t talk to me if you’re going to mention the words ‘paradigm’ or ‘objective’ thank you.

7. How do you find or make time to write? Are you consistent or do you write whenever you get the chance?

Hahahahahhahha.

In the past few months, I’ve not been writing because I’ve had exams. Before that, I wrote at every chance I had - being a student, I had a fair bit of free time during the day, so I’d use that to write. But for a while, it was a nothing on the ‘what has Trade written recently’ chart. 

Going up again boiiis

8. What does literary success look like to you? Is it important for you as a writer?

Literary success? That’s... a very interesting question. I think I’d be satisfied and feel successful if one person told me that my book helped them through something. 

Jokes on me, I’ve already had that, my books helped me, I have already succeeded, see you losers in hell.

Also fanart but uh who needs fanart when you draw enough for five armies?

9. Are there any scenes that you’ve had to edit out of your WIPs? Can you tell us about them if they don’t spoil the book?

YES oh lord yes okay so in Sonder, chapter 15, I decided around draft 2 that I wanted a scene where Atlas got drunk. I made up reasons for it, asked lots of friends about what it was like to be drunk (as I personally have never been drunk), attended parties to get first-hand research and did so much preparation. 

Wrote the scene, was pleased with it, left it to fester. Two years and two drafts later (now), I’ve come back and realised oh hey that scene is utterly useless and de-rails the plot. Time to remove it I guess. 

I rationalise it as ‘well you wrote it and you had fun but it’s not needed, move on’ and that works well for me. 

10. Would you feel comfortable publishing or sharing your writing using your real name, or would you prefer a pseudonym?

Pseudonym 100%. As cool as it would be to be able to go ‘hey I wrote this’ to people, the terrifying ordeal of being known is horrific, and people being able to track all my past activity from when I was literally seven is my worst nightmare. I wouldn’t even tell family or friends if I could get away with it. 

‘Hey [real name], there’s a book at Waterstones called Sonder? With the exact same characters, plot and writing style as you have? But it’s under [pseudonym]?’ ‘oh hey, really that’s wild. Anyway,’

11. When writing, do you try more to be original or do you prefer to deliver to readers what they want? Do you think that a book can do both? Which is more important to you as a writer?

Oh hey, this is like question two but MORE. Standing by my previous answer, I think a book can do both - people want a happy ending, usually, but you can always be original in how you do that. No two stories can be told in exactly the same way. And hey - even if people do guess what’s coming up, that’s good. 

As a writer? It’s most important to entertain. I don’t try and catch people out, I just deliver the story I have in my head and then edit it mercilessly until I’m pleased. 

Questions!

1) Design a mask for an OC to wear. Would it cover their whole face? Is it a mascarade mask? Is it fancy or simple? Bonus cool kid points if you draw it.

2) Which OCs like spicy food?

3) Which OCs can take care of a plant - an orchid, to be exact? 

4) Do you tell stories in any other medium beyond writing? eg: art or roleplay or...? 

5) Do you have any irl items that you have because ‘oh dude this is something that’d totally be in my story’? Can I see them?

6) What’s the first book you remember buying? 

7) Do you have any weird collections of things? As an example, I have a skull collection and a collection of... what’s best described as doll body parts. Anything just... weird that you have a lot of? Can I see it? 

8) Which OC gets distracted by watching birds and which OC is like ‘dude stop watching the birds we’ve got STUFF TO DO’

9) Have you ever met a published author? Who? 

10) Are you a person who likes tea or are you a person who prefers coffee? If the latter - dude c’mon tea is so much better smh

11) Have you backed up your files recently? Do it now. Please, for the love of god, back up your files. 

Tagging!

@hyba @joyful-soul-collector (dunno if I’m allowed to tag the people who tagged me but fukkit here’s some more questions you eggs) @kaatiba @albatris @timetravelingpigeon @note-katha (hi we have barely interacted but nice new username) @nymph-of-diana (on your main if you want, idm c:) @writing-and-nutmeg @futurity-writing @osteoprecocious and @thatfizzyyyy 

Honestly, the fact I made it to 11 is - wowza. Uhhh if you don’t want to then don’t, if you do want to then PLEASE do and then tag me so I can see your answers, I’m curious. 

Ciao.

[sol1056]

git along little nonnies

Got a whole bunch of you on related themes, so I’m just gonna do this all at once: a bunch of questions about DW, spinoffs, merchandise, business, management, support (and protest) and whatnot. In no particular order.

Ok there are petitions and peaceful boycotts directed at DW but problem is they aren’t addressing the EPs and things they, not DW, did so how are we to sign them, how to handle this when this could at best confuse the situation and not give any results and at worst, make matters even worse about what we want regarding DW addressing things? 

Here’s what companies care about: money. Everything else is gravy.

If you want a corporation to pay attention to your complaints, then you need to figure out their sources of income, and find a way to threaten that. If the social reprobation is high enough, damage to the brand can translate into lost sales, but the tempest required to make that happen must be much, much larger than anything I’ve seen the fandom manage. 

I’ve been saying this all along: voices are far more powerful than signatures. If twenty thousand people wrote or called in, and said what they liked vs what upset them, that would have a far greater impact. Certainly a lot more than a list of names with no emotion beyond a request that may not even be something DW can, or would, fulfill.  

And don’t even get me started on mailing stuff in. Cute, but hardly actionable.  

Do you know what kind of contracts DW sign, as in, are they obligated to air all seasons, can they choose not to air them, do the companies they work with (netflix, wep) have a say or more say than them? Who gets the last word? Is airing all seasons squarely on DW or more? 

As I’m not a corporate lawyer employed by any of the signatories, I can’t tell you what the contract stipulated. What I can tell you is that a contract of the magnitude of the DW-WEP-Netflix agreement probably had a dissertation worth of riders covering the different types of possible defaults or breaches, and the penalties for each. Additionally, the contract also likely covered what constituted ‘satisfactory delivery’ of the product. 

To take it down to a really simple level: you place an order at a restaurant. You expect to get it, eat it, and pay for it. You don’t expect to be told, “hey, we burnt your steak and we’re out of butter for your sweet potatoes, so have some green beans instead,” and then be told you still owe the full amount, anyway. 

Netflix wouldn’t settle for ordering (and paying for) something never delivered, anymore than you would. Sure, any corporation worth their over-inflated stock options would try --- but that’s the point of contracts, to make sure they can’t. 

Netflix paid, DW delivers, end of story.  

 ...do you think ppl in charge didn't think EPs would tell they made changes and also thought they'd manage to bury it? And then they got in trouble and DW is going thru changes for that reason? -waves at DW goings on and silence.

I got lost in all the pronouns, there. Who’s the first ‘they,’ the EPs or DW execs? Is the second ‘they’ referring to the same as the first? So... I’m not really sure what you’re positing, but if the ‘DW is going through changes’ is implying DW’s got a shakeup and/or is promoting its head-of-TV to president and that’s somehow connected to two newbie EPs screwing up?

I’d say the chances are so infinitesimal as to be nearly in the negative. (I should also note, the press release listed successful shows Cohn oversaw, yet oddly did not include VLD.) DW is not a three-person start up; it has stakeholders and a board and a C-suite to satisfy. Cohn got that promotion ‘cause she’s got a track record going back thirty years, most recently growing DW’s TV division from 8 to 800 in five years. 

Most corporations tend to announce their new CEO or President like someone woke up that morning and went, hey, I’ve got a great idea. Truth is, it’s usually in the works for at least a year, sometimes several years, or more. The only thing that has me side-eyeing the announcement is the silence around who’ll fill Cohn’s previous position. 

But that’s again less to do with a single series, and more to do with what it says about DW as a whole, business-wise. 

What meaningful changes could the new president Margie Cohn make that would be different than the last one? Also I'm sorry if your getting a bunch of Voltron/DW questions lately, you just seem to be the most knowledgeable person on this platform.

I’d be willing to bet I’m far from the most knowledgeable person; I’m just someone not bound by an NDA, and curious enough to do a bit of digging and jaded enough to talk about (most) of what I find. 

A president can have immense impact on a company’s direction; that’s kinda why they exist, to set that high-level strategy. That said, Cohn will be bound by all contracts signed by her predecessor. The TV side (barring someone filling the shoes she left) will probably continue as it was. The theatrical side (which she’s taking over) will be where we’ll probably see any major changes. 

And even those aren’t likely to be on films currently in production. Hell, given theatrical animation can take up to five years, I’m not sure that’d show much change, either. Look instead to changes in investors, new deals, and new properties. 

What do you think DW will do about a sequel if there’s really no bible? Theres tons of plot holes & abandoned storylines. VLD will never feel satisfying, and fans already argued with different interpretations based on conflicting content, without a nice satisfying explanation...

I know this is the first of a three-part ask, but I’m skipping the rest because the only answer possible is to your very first question: the bible doesn’t matter. 

Any new series --- even a continuation --- will construct its own bible. Same as we’d do in fandom: they’ll patch together what they can, fill in blanks as they need, and gloss the rest, or retcon it outright. Even if there were a bible, diligently followed, that doesn’t mean the next series is automatically beholden to it. Some franchises would care (ie Star Wars) while others might let a reboot mess with the details (ie Star Trek). 

For every continuation, there’s gradations in between, since otherwise what’s the interest for creative minds, if you’re obligated to follow someone else’s script exactly? So, no. The absence of a story bible doesn’t preclude the next iteration making its own, as it needs, to whatever extent it requires. 

I was wandering around the hot topic online store, and i noticed a shirt that raised a few flags and questions. it's the 'Voltron Location' shirt. it has all the paladins in different places in a star globe chart thing? with what might possibly be planet designations. plus Lance is the only one not inside his blue colored bubble. Keith is in Red and Shiro in Black again. it's interesting at least.

Nearly all the shirts use the same base images, just changed up. It feels a little like someone handed a designer a half-dozen images with a request for forty-something designs --- and now HT is just throwing them all at the wall to see what sticks (or sells). 

HT’s stuff has been pretty consistent, from what I’ve heard: Shiro is Black, Keith is Red, etc. Considering the t-shirts seem to be selling out regularly (along with various other sidelines), I’d say someone is savvy as to the fact that the segment of fandom spending the most money is also the segment that prefers the S1/S2 lineup. 

If that’s what customers want, it’s smart business for DW to provide.

(Yes, that applies on more than one level.)

There are VLD comic books being released by LionForge Comics, are those considered canon? Do LM and JDS have any involvement? They take place before Season 7and8 but I don't wanna support the original EPs.

Every fandom has its own stand on what counts as canon. Sometimes (especially with adaptations) you’ll find fandoms being explicit as to whether they’re book or movie (ie HP and LotR). I expect the same will eventually shake out in VLD’s fandom, too. 

From everything I’ve heard, Hedrick and Iverson were handed the comics and ran with it. I suppose that would argue for seeing the comics as canon, being they were written by people also writing the main series... but from what I can tell, it’s one-way. The show affected the comics, but nothing in the comics ever affected the series.

That said, your purchases have nothing to do with the original EPs. All you’re doing is telling DW you like the VLD-iteration of Voltron.

What are your thoughts on the final vld poster? I feel like it’s missing the end. Allura is randomly staring back into nothing.

It’s a clever idea to do a poster for each season, but it’s not something I’ve ever paid any attention to, really. If it were drawn by the head writer? That might mean the artist had more insight than, say, a storyboarder or animator. But even then... cool picture, still not-canon. I’m only interested in canon.

Do you think that Voltron was rushed purposely by the EP's. [...] Wouldn't this effect the quality of, well, everything? I feel as if they got frustrated with the show at that point and just wanted out.

Dude. There are times I sit here and just stare into space, bewildered yet again not just at the thought of 39 episodes released in one year --- but doing that with 26 as a last-minute cut-and-paste rearrangement. All I can tell you is that what I’ve seen from animation people and aficionados (and friends) is that three full seasons in one calendar year is just bonkers. 

If DW hadn’t wanted the schedule that packed, the EPs aren’t the ones getting the say. That’s a DW-Netflix thing. I really wonder whether DW used VLD as a guinea pig. TH went a year between S1 and S2, and the numbers slumped badly. Perhaps DW wanted to know if more episodes, more often, would keep fan interest high? DW has experienced execs, but they’re all from broadcast; how you arrange and time things in the brave new world of binge-watching is a completely different beast. 

So, it’s possible it was less of a rush job to get the show out, and more from a desire to see what'd happen to release so much, so close together. 

I still think it’s a bonkers schedule, though.

"Relaunch the whole property" sounds like they won't continue expanding the whole vld universe and they'll make a new itineration. Though if they do a spin-off it'd likely be on the vld universe surrounding the new "Legendary Defenders" from the epilogue. And "especially given the response" do you think after the negative response from s8, wouldn't be better for WEP to not keep working with Dreamworks? Or maybe they need to clean their brand from vld fiasco? What can you say about all of this?

I can say you might try re-reading, because boy is that a radical interpretation of the text. Remember, Jeremy was speaking before S8, and all indication is that he was caught off-guard as much as the fans. Re-read in light of Jeremy (at the time) appearing to expect S8 to be a crowd-pleaser.   

...I'm becoming more confident in my belief that DW has something planned for Voltron. I mean they are still heavily promoting the show, LionForge is still publishing Voltron comics, and merchandise is still being made. These don't seem like the actions of a company trying to get people to forget a show. 

You’re not wrong. Up to the last few days of 2018, DW gave every indication they wanted S8 quietly buried. Nothing they’ve done since has fit that pattern --- including the anomaly of failing to announce their 2019 series. Something is going on, that’s for certain. 

Did DW really just throw the VAs to the wolves [for] three days? and there's still no official stance? One panel was enough. They had [the VAs] take the heat for them? But thankfully fans felt sorry for them? Which could also have been the goal, shut the fans up [with] the VAs of the characters who got the worst treatment and who love their characters ... Yes DW this really makes me trust you /sarcasm/

I don’t think that was the original plan. Let’s pretend DW released its 2019 schedule via press release in the first few days of January, and among those was an announcement of a VLD sequel or spinoff, coming late 2019. 

People wouldn’t be fussing over putting the VAs through three panels. They’d be complaining we didn’t get the biggest room for every panel. The majority of the fandom doesn’t trust the EPs, and is wary of DW --- really, the only ones who retain any goodwill, at this point, are the VAs. So who better than to assure a nervous fandom about the goodness of the second iteration than the VAs whose characters were most shafted by the first iteration?

What breaks this is that immediately after S8 dropped, Josh and Kimberly went silent on twitter. AJ slipped into passive-aggressive snarking; Jeremy fell off the radar and usually he’s pretty interactive with his fans. Bex pretty much wiped  VLD from her stream, possibly including deleting older tweets. Neil tried to engage and made a hash of it, bless his heart. 

Josh and Kimberly are consummate professionals who reliably promote the series after every season drop, but their radio silence continued for almost two weeks. This wasn’t the first season that came saddled with controversy; if there was a time to go quiet, it was after S7. Something else was going on. 

I have strong suspicions backed by research, but if I’m right, I’d be stepping on a major legal landmine. In the interest of not getting blown up, I’ll only say that the VAs appearing for those three panels (and their low-key and mostly diplomatic hedging around VLD’s conclusion) was a good sign that all parties involved are willing to work things out.   

[DW was] quick to handle the Season 7 backlash and have stayed mum on what is arguably a much worse reaction to the 8th and final season.

and

I believe the S8 of voltron we got was not the original ending we were supposed to get and highly edited. My question is why? What was the point of changing the original ending? [The] radio silence from DW and the cast is driving me nuts. I wish DW would make a statement.

DW is in an interesting place. Its TV side is barely five years old, but dominated by execs with long-time broadcast experience, predating vibrant interactivity afforded by platforms like twitter, tumblr, or instagram. DW’s background as a theatrical company also seems to incline it away from any ongoing engagement with the audience. It releases a movie and by the time that hits theaters, DW is onto the next thing. 

It’s a strong contrast with production studios like Zagtoon (Miraculous), who penned an open letter to their fandom about production delays. Or little studios like Wonderstorm (The Dragon Prince) whose deft use of twitter and tumblr sets their brand apart. Or Federator (Castlevania), with their witty marketing campaigns and willingness to engage with fans. Even Disney was willing to be open about its errors with Tiana, and to make clear how it was striving to do better --- so there’s no excuse that only small studios do such outreach.

My guess is that DW's core leadership is from the school of business in which admitting a mistake is tantamount to ritual suicide. Don’t blink first, or maybe the rule is never let them see you sweat, but whatever it is, DW is turning into a textbook case of how silence can damage a brand. 

Companies have multiple avenues to reach customers directly, now. Our modern technologies are a two-way street, and good companies leverage that to create not passive fandoms but active communities. It takes work, careful planning, and some level of transparency --- something old-school execs find highly uncomfortable, to be honest --- but in this day and age, those are crucial building-blocks to achieving any kind of audience loyalty.

DW isn’t going to render itself obsolete (at least not overnight), but it's on a track to end up as the studio whose work audiences only watch when there’s nothing better being offered. Unfortunately for DW, there’s a hell of a lot of other studios out there, and they're all offering something better. 

[tessatechaitea]

Batman #441

Alfred listening to Dick Grayson describe how his cock just won't fit in the green Speedos anymore.

If I were Two-Face, my signature move would be plopping my ball's on Batman's bare chin after getting the better of him. Because I have two testicles! If I were Two-Face, would one side of my scrotum look like a disgusting mess and the other half look not normal? While Two-Face tries to figure out how he's going to lure Batman to him so he can murder him, Batman tries to figure out how he can lure Two-Face out in the open to just almost murder him. I guess having the villain and the hero's plot arcs mirror each other somehow fits in to the whole Two-Face theme. Oh, it's like two sides of the same coin!

Can you "Too soon?" something that took place twelve years before the thing being "Too sooned"?

I debated saying "Two soon!" but figured I'd just confuse everybody on the Internet. Everybody wants to suspect errors before they suspect whimsy or facetiousness. You're all so Goddamned intelligent that you can't just let an idiot make a stupid joke on the Internet without worrying about the repercussions! You just can't make a grammar joke about the death of 3000 people anymore!

Batman as a hipster.

Now I feel the need to explain everything I type! He's pretending his Batarang is an old-timey mustache! While Two-Face and Batman try to figure out the other one's next move, Dick and Tim visit with Alfred at Wayne Manor. Alfred does not punch Dick in the face and scream, "No! He shouldn't be here! Get this young man out of here! It's too dangerous!" Instead, Alfred and Dick just listen to Tim's story about how he learned of Batman and Robin's secret identities, both of them thinking, "Batman's going to get this kid killed some day, isn't he?" I thought maybe Two-Face and Batman would come up with the same plan but that's because I didn't put much thought into how that would work. Two-Face's plan was to kidnap the Wright boys, a celebrity set of twins, and hold them for ransom. So what's the clue to Batman in that crime? Two Wrights make a wrong? Batman comes up with a better temptation to lure Two-Face out. He holds a poker tournament at the Gemini Club with a cash payout of 22 million dollars. If Batman were trying to lure me into committing a crime, he'd have to host the poker tournament at the Virgo Club with a payout of 69 million dollars. Batman tells Commissioner Gordon that the kids will have to die because Batman has already set the bait on the trap. And also he doesn't know any other superheroes who might be able to help. Well, he knows some. But he burnt his bridge with The Outsiders and Batgirl's in a wheelchair and he burnt his bridge with the Justice League when he went off to start The Outsiders and he punched Guy Gardner in the face and I just can't keep listing all the ways in which Batman pissed off every other hero in the DC Universe. Not that they wouldn't help out the Wright kids if Batman contacted them to help! The problem is Batman won't contact them because he's stubborn and it would be an awkward conversation and, look, he's doing everything he can but he still can't save everybody. He learned that from his pal Spider-man. Eventually Batman can't live with the guilt of two dead kids so he leaves his stakeout. And Two-Face can't live without 22 million dollars! So they leave their posts and exchange positions. Was this story was written by O. Henry? Back at Wayne Manor, Tim continues to tell Dick the story of how he figured out the secret identities of Batman and Robin. But I don't think Dick is paying close attention.

Jeff?! Who the fuck is Jeff?!

Jeff pleads with Dick to dress up like Robin and go to Batman. He's convinced that Batman is getting out of control without the calming influence of a young boy at his side. I guess the theory is that if Batman needs to make sure the young boy he brought with him into a dangerous situation doesn't get killed, he'll be more careful. So by endangering a young boy, the man who has chosen to throw himself in harm's way over and over again has better of odds of surviving. That seems fair! Good psychological detective work, Jeff Drake! Tim gets upset that Dick won't dress up as Robin to go meet Batman. Instead, he takes off as Nightwing, leaving Tim with Alfred in the Batcave. Alfred pulls out his measuring tape and begins sizing Tim up to start on the alterations to the Robin costume. Batman #441 Rating: B. The weirdest thing about reading this comic book is how Two-Face leaves puzzling clues for Batman to solve to find the Wright kids. And they make enough sense that after Batman explains them, I said, "Oh, yeah! Um, I guess? Good work!" I feel like Batman writers of the past consistently came up with imaginative clues for Batman's detective half to solve. You get that far less in modern Batman comic books. Sure, occasionally Snyder or somebody will write an issue that plays like an old Batman story. But more generally, one of Batman's villains just starts destroying shit or killing people and Batman reacts to the violence. And even though the old way meant the villains had some kind of weird desire to massage a beating out of Batman by leaving clues, it also meant that Batman could stop the villain before people were killed. Too often, I feel like Batman's failure to save all the people The Joker or The Riddler or Clayface kills just gets ignored. As long as Batman captures the villain at the end of the story, Batman has won and made Gotham a better place. But how can Batman not rend his garments over every fucking life lost? That's the whole point of his existence! To stop random violence against innocent and ordinary citizens of Gotham! I suppose he's just gotten better at compartmentalizing the deaths. People die not due to his failure to save them but due to the evil people in the world doing violent things. You can't blame Batman for not saving everybody! Remember that thing he learned from his pal Spider-man?! Sometimes when people die on your watch, the most noble thing you can do is shrug your shoulders and hurry out of the Commissioner's window to get on with your next story arc.

[orionsangel86]

I totally agree with you on the meta writer drama. You guys don’t write the show, you just analyze it and come up with varying opinions so it’s not fair that ppl place such high expectations on you all. Also to everyone who reads, while this show is very special to many ppl and we all hold it close to our hearts, at the end of the day... it’s ultimately just a tv show guys. It is not worth fighting and stressing over because it’s just art meant to be enjoyed. Hope you have a good day!

PREACH

I hate bringing up wank. I really do. I’m one of those really annoying people who just wants everyone to get along and everything to be sunshine and rainbows ya know? 

But sometimes people let their emotions overtake any logical thought - well, it happens a lot, even to me - and when that happens they fail to realise that what they are posting about is actually really misguided and in those cases, especially when I think it feels like a personal attack against me and others I care about on here, then I wanna say something. 

I literally read a post not 10 minutes ago that someone linked me to, where this person was bitching about meta writers for being happy that Cas had died at the end of season 12. They were saying that we can’t be true Cas fans because we were happy about his death. It made me laugh tbh, because of course we weren’t happy for the character to have died and gone through that pain, but this is what I mean when I say that these people cannot separate their emotional response to the characters with the logical, analytical meta response.

Cas’s death made me cry ALOT. 12x23 had me balling, 13x01 has consistently had me in tears every. single. time. I watch it. Even now. If I was to put it on right now, I would be crying my eyes out because I am MOURNING my FAVOURITE CHARACTERS DEATH.

HOWEVER, from a meta perspective, Castiel’s death was the best thing to happen in SPN for a good few years. WHY? Well, here are some reasons:

1. Because we knew he was coming back. I have to stress this point. The ONLY reason I was so happy about Cas’s death was because I knew he was coming back. If I didn’t know that for certain, I wouldn’t have been happy. 

2. Because it symbolically makes him a phoenix, and the symbolism around Cas is that he has fought his way out of death, depression, PTSD, and a complete lack of self worth. Cas has come a HUGE way from that scene in 8x08 when he told Dean he was suicidal, to fighting against the cosmic entity DEMANDING to be sent back to earth because Cas had something to live for. It was fucking glorious. I obviously couldn’t have predicted 13x04 at the time of 12x23, but I KNEW from a meta viewpoint, that we were in for a treat.

3. Because it would mean a shit ton of beautiful mourning of Castiel from Dean. Because it would have shown Cas haters that they are SO WRONG when they say Dean doesn’t care. Again, I didn’t know exactly what to expect from Dean at the end of 12x23, other than the hint we got from his DEVASTATED expression. But I knew we would be in for something glorious. What we DID end up getting, was better than my wildest imaginations.

4. Because it would be HUGE brownie points for destiel. Now I know for a fact that meta haters are gonna come along and jump on me for saying that - “aahh look at her she’s such a cas hater, she only sees him as a plot device for destiel *angry shouts and yells bla bla bla*...” But lets be honest here, Cas dying was one of the best ways the show could have given Dean the kick up his ass he needed. Perhaps we aren’t quite done with this plot point yet, but my god the destiel exposition we were given from Dean’s grief over Cas was fucking perfect. 

5. Because I knew that by killing Cas off then, it would mean that he would get a happy ending for endgame. Lizzy said something (and got hate for it) back shortly after the season 12 finale, she said that she was still struggling to process how great it was that Cas died when he did, that the show went with that story line when it did, with at least another 2 seasons to go before the end, because Dean kneeling over a dead Castiel with burnt wing prints in the ground was literally Lizzy’s worst case scenario idea for how destiel would happen - in a “kill your gays” kinda way. Make it canon, but steal Cas away for the angst and manpain, leaving Dean alone. Its like the ultimate HORRIBLE ending right? So by giving that ending to us NOW, at the end of season 12, it TAKES AWAY THAT POSSIBILITY. From now on, we know that the show can’t repeat this. They can’t repeat that story line again. So by doing it when they did, and by then bringing Cas back, they have effectively killed off the worst case scenario ending. This makes me live.

6. Because it lead to a summer of glorious PR that was extremely Misha and Cas heavy and basically everyone rallied round to show their love for the character and for the actor and I have never been happier seeing so much Cas and Misha love in fandom and outside of it. It was fucking amazing and I had tears in my eyes so often I’m surprised they didn’t dry out. Plus it really pissed off the bibros/Cas haters. I mean, they were CONSTANTLY on the war path and it was so fucking hilarious. They even speculated that Misha would only come back as Jimmy or some shit like that and when I got told about that I once again had tears in my eyes but for a different reason.

Basically, Cas dying was a fantastic thing to happen at this point in the show. From a meta perspective of course. Also from a story perspective, because the wealth of character development that came from his death was almost astonishing. 

From an emotional point of view, yes, it was painful for me, as a Cas fan, to watch my fave die, to watch his body burn on a pyre, to watch his loved ones mourn him. It was so fucking emotional I struggled, but the meta kept me sane. Because I knew it was all worth it. Think of the wealth of Cas positivity we had both in-show and out of show. When for years we have been upset that Cas is always sidelined, always left out of PR, promo’s and photo shoots. Not anymore. Cas’s death made him front and center. I have never had a happier summer as a Cas girl than I did in 2017.

Anyway, sorry for going off on a tangent that was totally irrelevant to your ask, but reading that persons post got me annoyed. People that don’t understand meta and then go and hate on it really piss me off. 

You are right though. It is just a TV show. I wish people didn’t get so upset about things - I say this knowing full well I fall into this category myself. I think I am overly protective of other meta writers though, because I see them as my online “family”. They think the same way as me, they obsess over the same things, and pick apart the canon and discover new things about it that make it richer and more colourful. Meta brings so much more depth to the canon TV show, and for me, I guess, it is more than just a show for that reason. It’s a community, a passion, a family and a big part of my life. I love it. I always try not to let wank stress me out, but sometimes I feel I have to defend my turf ya know? Especially when the arguments being made against us are just completely without merit. 

[violetsystems]

#personal

I keep referencing this Chris Morris interview lately, mostly to myself. I try to talk to people in real life but the things other people take seriously aren't as important as any words I try to speak outloud. This is a trend that Morris and crew began to target in the late nineties when Brass Eye was released. When asked if Brass Eye could happen at the time during the Trump administration, he replied staunchly it could not. Back in the late nineties people took themselves far too seriously in the news. So it was easier to lampoon. These days it feels like a regression. Everyone has a statement to unload on you. A complex series of opinions, arguments, and rules about this or that. Some of them have some weight. Others are carried away by counter arguments and burnt at the stake. The only reason a statement, argument, or ideological battle penetrates the news is to simply kick it around for two weeks in a cycle. It never reaches any sort of consensus. It never diffuses into at the very least a case of agreeing to disagree. The Met Gala recently is a fine example of this. Statement fashion is simply meant to nudge the conversation into focus. At it's very minimum the shock is meant to jolt someone out of this seriousness. To rattle them away from their protective shell to change the dialogue. Think tax the rich or peg the patriarchy. Neither of them if you flesh out the argument have much teeth to them. I'm sure you could find yourself at a party defending either argument. "How many stocks do you have in the bank Mister!" Or why victims of childhood sexual harassment and violence might feel a little differently about proving how you might be able to face the patriarchy in a less violent and humiliating way. This is that none of us are defending a 35,000 dollar ticket to the Met Gala in the first place. There were plenty of other statements. After all the ideological dust settled I almost never realized that Iris Van Herpen designed Grimes suit of armor. If I were too clouded by the ideology I would have missed that legitimate moment of genius. I'm a technologist by profession. I have years of 3D fabrication support. I've often found myself drawn into the intersect of technology and fashion. The embroidery machines that print out all the stupid little poetry that gets stolen from other artists? Those are pretty complex to operate. Without them none of this would be possible. And yet good statement fashion does get people talking. But fashion is more than statements. Especially from the rich and wealthy. And if we don't talk about all of it, we start to realize who controls the flow of the dialogue when it goes petty. We're supposed to move on from these arguments like exhibits in a museum. Not get stuck on one or two moments and use them as a soapbox to drown out the entire room. Statement fashion gets people's attention. I wore undercover for years only to find for years people thought I was an undercover cop. I wear a mouse on a shirt and suddenly my porch is overflowed with them. I hold a raccoon in my arms in Korea one trip and the next year my porch is flooded with them as well. You like animals so much! Prove it!

Prove it was also a song by the underground band Television. I was introduced to them by the king of statement fashion itself, Jun Takahashi. I've worn undercover for years at this point. The story of undercover during the Scab years is an interesting insight into what Jun was trying to express at the core. His assistants were getting food in London on a break. An old woman came up to them and offered them a banana. She thought they were homeless. They were excited because the fashion they were wearing felt real and unpretentious. It blended in and confused people in such a way that it was not high brow or high fashion. It was accessible. It was street level. And it was largely coopted by the ultra rich and worn far too seriously for its own good. For people like myself who wore it out of love to provoking real conversation, it did the opposite. It cast me into a shadow realm where people thought what I was saying enabled them to push the limit. To use people like myself as cover in terms of hijacking authenticity. You used to wear undercover as a badge of honor in Japanese street wear. It was designed for rebels after all. You could wear a t-shirt that simply said RAT out in the street and assume if it applied to someone they'd read into it. But nobody including myself really thought you'd be able to change shit with a t-shirt. In America, people wear rebellious shit to express this idea of freedom. With Jun's stuff, it was all centered around this idea of individualism and anarchy. You can be who you are and there are so many variants of human that there is no comparison. America always wants you to prove it. Prove the right to be alone. Prove the right not to mix with the general population to avoid dilution. To avoid being neutralized or have a narrative hijacked. Nowadays you can't even afford to have a statement without someone explaining it for you behind your back. When the streets become the runway, retaliation happens outside the niceties of press and junkets. It happens with real unbridled emotions. The statements you throw into people's faces don't get moderated by it kids, secret tribunals of the ultra rich or your heroes. They get dealt with in a violent and sometimes mob like fashion by people who take themselves so seriously that their arguments against you are louder than a bomb or a nuclear powered submarine. And everything starts to contradict itself so much that none of us have the energy to argue. We just start mocking it. And the entire situation gets worse.

When it comes to a person like myself, I live in a surreal shadow world where the worst Black Mirror plot lines get tested. I've been writing and making statements for years. I've carefully parsed the arguments online. I've defended myself against an invisible hoard to let people know I am not like other people. And yet in America, until they can throw you in a group you are still nobody. You have to be attached to an ecosystem. A financial sink hole that can sell back your ideas to you instead of compensating you for the trouble. I can't take America seriously anymore even when it comes to it's idea of freedom. It lies to maintain a status quo. It constantly lies. It holds it's head high while sniffing the coke back into it's nose and proudly proclaims how it cares. And when people like myself stare it back in the face with our rotting street wear clothes from early 2010, it's a laugh. It believes until it has fully roasted the juices out of you then you are ready to be carved up. And we buy into it consistently. We waste our time feeding into arguments that have no intent on reaching a consensus. It's always you are either for us or against us. Go back and rally with your people. If you can't find your people it must mean you are mentally ill. America can never take the blame. If you catch it off guard it will figure out a way to trash you or cause a diversion. And so making statements to fuel an argument you can't win becomes a lesson in tedium. We should, by all means, continue to make fun of it. But the more we take these arguments seriously, we miss the real problems. We neglect the real art. We see that there's a good 35,000 dollar barrier to being heard. If we're lucky maybe we stitched together the rags these people wear. To me there have been statements in the populist context that have far more penetration into poking a hole in the patriarchy. I'm supposed to preface this by saying I own stock in some company. But I'm not trying to sell a portfolio. And it'd be kind of laughable to say that I'm only serious about feminism by putting my money where my mouth is to break this glass ceiling. The glass ceiling is there for a lot of us if minimum wage can't get us into the Met Gala. These statements are supposed to give you an idea to confront things in your own way. Not some secret way to groom you into humiliation and destroy your sense of self and sexuality. I write statements every week here most of the time. And they get chuckled at by friends and whoever these days spies on me to see how I deal with dead mice on my porch. Aren't I doing enough by saying something for free? I don't get paid to write any of these words. I don't get paid to talk about any of these people. What was that quote about art being counter revolutionary if it isn't accessible by the regular people? What I could do with a four hundred dollar statement t-shirt I can do with a color. Maybe I could make a statement shirt myself and have it ripped off by an incompetent designer one day. I could point at the screen and say "I copyrighted that statement." And look where it is now. Not in my wallet. Not anywhere near the 35,000 dollar ticket price to point back at the camera. Do you see me? No you don't. People in that realm only see themselves. And we take them and their arguments so seriously for what? A laugh hopefully. Because nothing is going to change if we're locked on the outside looking in at a bonfire of vanities. Witches get roasted either way. <3 Tim

[burmecianblackmage]

🍭 if the door isn't taken, can you give it to nymphaxea? Been waiting all this time to see you write something for her cute Aria!

An Advent of Cordialities - Day 23

@nymphaxea - 🍭 Day 23:  Baking Cookies Together

The moment she had confessed to him that she had never done something like this, Sceada knew that he’d need to be extra careful for her sake. After all, he wanted for this to be something she’d enjoy, something she would like to remember later, and something that she would want to do again eventually, so he had to do his best to show her how it was done, and to teach her as best as he could.

Even if he was far from being a master himself as well, not having done this often so far either.

Besides, how hard could it be to show someone as bright and clever as Aria how to bake cookies?

Well… turns out, it could be a bit more difficult than the Burmecian had anticipated. Although, perhaps difficult is not the right word for the small obstacles and challenges they would be facing…

It started already when they were preparing the dough for the cookies. Having put the ingredients together as per the recipe, Sceada had asked Aria to knead the mixture, but as the two soon found the dough had been too sticky for that, sticking to the young water maiden’s delicate fingers.

“Oh no... what... what should we do now...?”

“Don’t worry dear... we just need to add some flour then it should be fine. Here, let me... - Oops!”

The idea had been good, adding just a bit of flour so that her hands won’t stick to the dough anymore, but in his eagerness Sceada overdid it, and neglected to be careful enough with the powdery white substance - as a result, a whole chunk of flour falls out of the container, falling into the bowl and causing a white cloud to emerge from it.

Being of a rather frail constitution due to her long illness, that is enough to cause Aria to cough repeatedly, her hands still in the bowl as she struggles to catch a proper breath.

“Ahh, I’m sorry! Aria, are you alright? Here, let me help you...”

There is something very caring and affectionate in how Sceada looks after the young woman and how he, once her coughing has calmed down, carefully cleans her cheeks from the remaining flour on them.

Luckily, they manage to salvage the dough by evacuating it to another bowl, and even achieve the consistency they had hoped for. And while they cleaned up some more, they could let it sit and rest for a little bit before continuing further.

When they then continue, Sceada carefully rolls the dough flat, into a thin layer ready to be cut into shape. And speaking of shapes...

“Well Aria... what kinda cookies would you like to make? We’ve got... stars... hearts... a shooting star... a snowman... a boot... a fawn... and I think this is supposed to be a saint...?”

The Black Mage had prepared a little selection of cookie cutters for Aria, having borrowed them here and there just for today. His selection was quite varied, leaving nothing to be desired, even featuring a crystal if the maiden of the water crystal would fancy that shape - but ultimately, it seems she’s happy enough with just one type of shape:

“Can we... can we make some hearts then...? I’d like to make hearts...”

After a little kiss on her pale cheek, Sceada only all too happily assists her in this wish, and before long the entire dough is cut into little heart shapes, that are then carefully put over onto the baking trays with a flat knife. The remaining dough that had been around the shapes is gathered up and rolled into another mass, ready to be rolled out flat once more so more hearts can be made from it.

Once that is done as well, Sceada cannot resist tasting some of the remaining dough, finding it to be rather tasty - picking Aria’s interest in the process. And so, before the pair would put the trays in the oven, they wound up feeding each other the little odds and ends of the dough, giggling happily as they indulged themselves.

And then, it was time to wait.

After putting the dough in the oven, they needed to wait some good ten minutes or so, letting their little treats bake properly. A time to finish cleaning up, to smile together and to enjoy each other’s company until the alarm would alert them.

It is then, that the Burmecian proves himself to be a bit too eager, opening the oven and reaching for the tray without any oven mitts - it is only natural that he winds up burning himself, leaving him to retreat his fingers and blow on them. This in turn alerts the young maiden, and so it is now her who tends to him, looks after the Burmecian and cares for him with all the gentleness in the world.

“Oh no... let me see... here... this should help... just relax... and calm down... I’ll make it fine again...”

There is no mistaking the gentle glow of the White Magic she employs, and the soothing effect it held upon his fingers.

It does not take long for the Burmecian to then finally take the trays out of the oven, this time wearing the mitts. Alas, due to the delay his little mishap had caused, the cookies wind up a bit on the dark side, having been baked a tad bit too long...

“Ah... sorry Aria... I caused your cookies to get burnt... I hope they’ll still be alright...”

“Don’t worry Sceada... I’m sure they’ll still be tasty... And, uhm....”

Taking one of the still warm cookies off the tray, the water maiden held it out to her friend, a little blush on her cheeks as she held the little heart in her hand.

“if... if you’re fine with them... then so am I... After all... I... I do want to share them with you...”

The happy little smile on her lips as she looked up at him is enough to melt the Burmecian’s heart and move him, drawing a happy little smile from him as well.

“Oh Aria...”

“So... would you... would you like to share these cookies with me, Sceada...?”

“With pleasure, my dear...”

My... what a cute little moment this turned out to become... and now he understood why she had insisted on making them all hearts.

Indeed, Aria was a sweet girl - One that deserved all the kindness in the world.

It is when the young woman with the flowing blond hair takes a bite of the little heart that Sceada leans in and places a loving, caring kiss on her forehead.

“Happy Holidays... Aria.”

[artificialqueens]

saint in the city (katlaska) - comeapart

a/n: there are a lot of queens included but it’s katlaska with side witney. it’s a hospital au & it’s set ~around the 2009 flu pandemic in the isa of the influenza A/H1N1 virus. it’s going to be chaptered (b/c i write either too much or not enough) + yeah thats about it actually. i hope ya’ll like it

Alaska was a kind, good person. She was the kind of person with a moral compass, and although she didn’t always have the best approach, she at least tried. She woke up for work an hour and a half early each day, painted her face to the best of her ability at as early as 5am every morning, and was out of the door nearly an hour before she was supposed to be at work. The hour was divided into three parts, with each third being respectively as long and as boring as the next. There was the ten minute walk to the car-park, the twenty minute drive into the hospital, and the twenty minute wait at Starbucks to collect coffee for herself and Courtney. She walked into the building exactly on time every day. Michelle didn’t even look up when she waved her hand ever so slightly and called out her morning “Hey, Lasky.” It should’ve been different, and it would’ve been had it been a year back, but checking their passcards was wasted time on the full time staff. Even Bianca had agreed.

She never used to agree with routine. In fact, she used to hate it, with Courtney being the more controlled of the two before. The notion was almost hilarious now, with Courtney being the late one. Courtney had managed to anchor down a girlfriend, though, and Alaska tried not to be jealous. She had other things. Working in a hospital had forced her into routine, and now the idea of going without it made her anxious, with or without a girlfriend to complicate the difficult life she lived. She was busy all day, from the moment she would arrive to the minute she was about to leave at night, and routine meant less chance to slack off and have to fill in her paperwork at home. It was easier to have her free days as actual free days, rather than as days with unpaid work worrying about a patient’s test results or trying to read another doctor’s writing.

Her days were filled with patients and learning exactly why they were in the orthopedic department, the paperwork explaining that, stalking Willam and Courtney around the hospital for their daily five minute chats outside of the apartment, making small talk with Trixie in an attempt to get more information out of her for her own personal gain, and watching Dr. Zamo. The problem with having a demanding job is that it left very little time for slacking off, and this meant that the last three normally had to be combined.

“So,” Courtney started, picking at the nearly-empty container with the plastic fork she had taken from the canteen on her way back, “Why are we eating lunch here?”

“I like the atmosphere,” Alaska hummed, dragging the words out as she took a sip from her coffee. Across the hallway, Dr. Zamo was with a patient, explaining something that neither of them could hear as she closed the door behind a woman following her in. “She can’t examine with the door open? Really?”

“I know. It’s absolutely shocking how unwilling she is to infringe ethics.” Courtney rolled her eyes, dumping the empty container into the trash before looking up at Alaska, her brows raising ever so slightly. “Come on. Before our break’s over. I want to see Trix.”

“She hates talking to old ladies. They give her shit about her accent. C’mon, two more minutes. If she’s not out by then, I’ll go with you.” Alaska mumbled, trying not to sound like it actually mattered to her or anything. After years of teaching Courtney the art of Zamo-watching, she should’ve known better.

“Alaska. Now.” Courtney said, the threat of an accent peaking through and the greater threat of a swear. In general, it was taboo to swear where a patient could hear, but Courtney had been known to drop the c-word on occasion when Willam was fucking around with sterile supplies or when Alaska was being a bitch. It was kind of cute to see her swear, almost like a little kid, or a small bird, but the amount of trouble they got into for it wasn’t worth it. Alaska sighed, picking at the label on her drink before starting to follow after Courtney, glancing back as they were about to leave the hallway. She still hadn’t appeared.

Courtney noticed almost immediately, nudging her with her shoulder as she walked as a warning. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll see her later.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. What are you, my mom?” Alaska rolled her eyes.

*

It wasn’t like a huge ordeal or anything. Alaska had been fully aware of what she was doing, and she wasn’t pining. At least, that was what she told Courtney and Willam, even if she sort of was pining in a completely calm and acceptable way. It barely even impacted her life anymore, apart from deciding where she would situate herself during breaks and at lunch. Ever since she had started to work in the orthopedics department in Queens Hospital Centre in NY four years back, she had been introduced to Dr Ekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, or Katya “if it was important,” and the rest had been history.

Since then, a lot had actually happened. Alaska had become a clinical nurse specialist and while she was consistently busy, she had fun with her work for the most part. She had almost managed to fix things with her parents, to the point that when Alaska brought back a now-ex girlfriend one time they had actually been vaguely polite. Amongst other things, she had managed to break up with Sharon, to which both Courtney and Willam had agreed was for the best after discovering her drunk and covered in bruises one particularly bad New Year’s Eve. She had good friends, and although the remnants of abuse clung to her, she was mostly okay. She coped. She was happy to be single. Katya, on the other hand, dated a stream of pretty blonde nurses who were all shorter or smaller than Alaska could ever dream of and lean men who she sometimes saw out in the car park on her way home. Courtney and Willam had decided that Katya’s best friend, who was an anesthesiologist, was actually really nice and that Katya should share her, which resulted in her having to spend time with them as a group every so often. From all of that, Alaska had never really gotten around to getting over her crush on Katya. It wasn’t as if she had any love affairs waiting for her after the problems she’d had being with Sharon, and either way, Alaska thought that Katya was amazing without the reciprocated pining, in a hopeless never-gonna-happen type of way. It wasn’t even a problem, if Alaska was being real. She was more than happy to watch from afar, think about how Katya never wore nails and how she’d have her hair long on her lunch breaks, and how she’d go and smoke for nearly her entire break. She didn’t even mind that she knew it was never going to happen.

It was almost painfully clear to everyone that Katya wasn’t interested in Alaska. Everyone knew, from Trixie who offered sympathy to Willam who had a far more free-love approach to the situation. Any attempt that Alaska had made over the four years of knowing her had been rejected, and Katya had appeared to regard her entirely with indifference and annoyance, treating her like a little sister rather than a possible partner. And that was okay, because Alaska had gotten over the initial hurt of that, too. She had slowly managed to stop herself from trying to spark up conversations with Katya around the hospital, and when they all went out together, she didn’t force Katya to actually talk to her. She was pretty sure that Katya must’ve known about the whole stupid ordeal, because everyone knew about it and nobody had secrets in a public hospital, but that didn’t give her a free pass to try and flirt. Especially because Katya had actively not cared for years, and had done her best to get Alaska off of her case without actually doing anything. This tied perfectly into her ability to plan, and to have routine. It was routine to be alone. It was routine to adore Katya. If anything, it made her life simpler, knowing that she would never have her.

She was happy, as far as hospital work went. She had a good job, with added security, awesome friends that actually cared about her, and a comfortable life. Her choice in work was respectable enough for her parents to actually try and fix the bridges they burnt when she came out as gay and left years back for college, and it wasn’t like she was going to bring them any shockers back on her next visit home. She lived in New York City now. She wasn’t seeing them everyday of her life, she didn’t live in Pennsylvania anymore. If she was going to be hopelessly devoted to someone, she was pretty sure that Ekaterina Zamolodchikova was perfect. She wasn’t going to lie about that, either, as Willam loved to ask and Alaska loved to talk. It was one step up on repeating her thoughts of the day onto her Myspace profile, and she wasn’t 18 anymore. She couldn’t get away with her username being ‘thunderfuck5000’ forever.

*

Alaska’s favourite was a guy in his early twenties who had arthritis. She had diagnosed it after he had been sent to her to be treated for Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, and realised within five minutes that the reason the previous treatment hadn’t worked was because they were trying to treat the wrong thing. She was good at her job, and she wasn’t a clinical nurse specialist just because she tried. She saw him pretty regularly, and if he wasn’t in there once every two weeks, she’d probably try and ask him out. She really liked him. She actually really liked most of her regulars, and she wasn’t at all attached.

He was back because he had a problem with his wrist. It hadn’t been seen since the last time she had gotten him a prescription for painkillers for his insurance to cover and injected corticosteroids into the swelling, and she had kind of missed him in a weird, lonely way. This time when she saw him, his wrist had changed.

“And it’s been like this for how long?” She asked, turning his hand ever so slightly with her own to look at the swelling. She knew what she had to do, but she wanted to check. There was nothing worse than accidental mistreatment. Especially when it was something as routine as arthritis in the orthopedics department.

“Six days. I originally wanted to come earlier, but I’ve had work all week. It looks nasty.” The man nodded, sitting up on the chair as he looked down at her hands. Her nails were getting long. Sometimes she would glue fakes on when she got home after a particularly long day, and sit up and watch reruns of old movies to drown out the sound of Willam and Courtney fucking in the other bedroom.

“That’s okay. I’m glad you came now, rather than later. Otherwise this could have gotten worse.” She nodded, absently letting go of the man’s wrist before going back to her desk and typing the details up. This was nothing more than routine. She just had to inject more corticosteroids, write up a prescription, and make another appointment for him to check that they were working.

The room was silent for a few moments, the sound of the keys clicking against her nails echoing before she turned to look at him, smiling as the printer started. “So, I’m going to poke some needles into that, and then we’re going to look at ways we can try and prevent it from getting worse. Does that sound okay?”

The man nodded, and Alaska disappeared to find what she needed. Her job was fine. She was lucky.

*

Willam appeared almost immediately after Alaska had sent him off with his new prescription and a list of recommendations for the man’s wrist, handing her a slightly-too-full cup of coffee and working on her own. “You have to stop getting attached to your patients. Seriously, bitch, you’re killing me here.”

“Yeah, yeah. One day.” Alaska shrugged, waving her hand as she leaned in to sip at the cup before smiling. Willam always got the best of the shittiest coffee. Nobody could figure out which floor she actually got it from, but nobody was complaining. It wasn’t the cafeteria brand, and Alaska could’ve kissed her just because of that.

“I’m serious. For real, actual serious. You remember last time, when Bun Bun had to get surgery for spinal stenosis? You looked worse than when you were convinced you were in that weird cult thing with Sharon, fuckin’ dead on your feet.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Alaska rolled her eyes, looking down at her nails again. They really were starting to get long.

“What was it called again? The haus of Haunt? And you got naked at that club and covered yourself in white body paint while the rest of us were sober? You looked fucking dead. We were all worried about you.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” Alaska murmured, looking back up at her before smiling. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I could be part of your relationship with Courtney. I’m too old to have threesomes. Maybe some casual sex, but that’s the line.”

“You’re fuckin’ twenty six. You are not too old for a threesome,” Willam frowned, looking genuinely hurt as she groaned before pushing the hair out of her face and looking back at Alaska. “So. What have you got for me?”

Alaska nodded, picking up the pile of files and charts she had shoved to the side for lack of better organisation and spreading them out on the desk before actually counting them for Willam. “Oh, we have like, uh… Six today? Hand, hand, wrist, spine, another hand, and a leg.”

“That spine is for Katya,” Willam murmured, putting her now empty paper cup on the desk and replacing it with files, flipping through them. “I’ll take the hands and wrists. Katya can have that leg. Are you going to talk to her about it today?”

“Yeah, probably. She’s in her office, right?” Alaska nodded, pursing her lips, “Do you possibly want to do it for me?”

“As much as I would love to go see my friend, Courtney has banned me from stopping you from seeing her. I’m not allowed to ruin any actual excuse you have to talk to her. But maybe I should do it, after last time. When you apparently managed to break half of her shit.” Willam rolled his eyes, letting Alaska pull the files back and take what she needed to give to Katya.

She pouted at Willam, making her eyes as wide as possible as she jutted her lip out. “Stop it. It was an accident. I even bought her a replacement keyboard.”

“I mean, if you were more careful, there wouldn’t have been a need for it to be replaced. Poor thing was waterboarded with your sugary-ass coffee,” Willam smiled, checking them over before walking back over to the door. “Go do it soon, though. You don’t wanna miss her. And Courtney is planning karaoke night, she wants you to come, because you live with us but also because you’re our friend, and she’s inviting Katya, Trixie and Pearl. So. Tuesday night, look nice, okay?”

“I hate you guys. I always look stunning,” Alaska raised her brows, finishing off her coffee before looking at the now-black monitor display and her reflection. She looked nice. She needed more eyeliner before she could go and talk to Katya, sure, but she was fine. Nothing particularly ugly or noticeable.

“Yeah, yeah. Bun Bun is looking good though. She’s recovering well,” Willam nodded, pushing her hair back before letting it bounce back into place. “This time. Just be careful, okay?”

“I’m always careful. That’s the Alaskan mantra.” “Mm,” Willam sighed, letting herself out and leaving Alaska alone for the first time that day.

[tamboradventure]

What Happens When You Turn Your Hobby Into a Job?

Posted: 5/28/2020 | May 28th, 2020

There’s a big industry on the web that will show you how you can turn your passion into something that pays your bills. I’m sure you’ve seen the Facebook ads:

“Follow your passion! Make money doing what you love!”

In just a few easy steps, you’ll be able to solve all your life’s problems, find your dream job, and make bazillions!

But you don’t find your passion the way you find change underneath your couch pillow.

No. Instead, you stumble around blindly in the dark, stubbing your toe on a bunch of different things, until you find the light switch you’re looking for. One day, you wake up, turn the right light on, and realize that this is what makes you happy — and you can’t imagine doing anything else.

You find the work you are passionate about through trial and error.

I started this website on a whim. I was 27 years old and I just needed a way to fund my travels. Being a travel writer seemed like a way to do that. This website was to be my online résumé where (maybe) editors would hire me for assignments. There were no grand plans to turn my love of travel into a career. No thoughts of the future. I just wanted to do something that would keep me on the road one day longer.

During those first years, to keep the money coming in, I also taught English in Asia, tried to run online marketing websites, and even played semi-professional poker.

Yet, as time passed, I found myself devoting more and more time to this website. I loved learning how to make it better, finding new ways to help people travel, writing content, figuring out social media and SEO algorithms, and meeting people through it. Many of the bloggers I met in those first days are now some of my closest friends.

I still wake up every day loving what I do and the people I meet.

I was asked recently what happens when you turn your passion into a profession? How does that change your relationship with the thing you love so much?

Well, it changes the relationship a lot.

As the years have passed, travel went from something I wanted to do to something I had to do. The content beast had to be fed. I always had to go out and do stuff to make sure the articles were as updated and accurate as possible. I was no longer just casually blogging about my experience but creating detailed guides.

Time moved quickly until, one day, suddenly, there were also five employees to worry about, health care plans to consider, accountants and taxes to pay, meetings and conventions to attend, ad revenue to secure, conference calls to make, and contracts to read.

There was to be very little traveling on a whim and going with the flow anymore.

This had become a business.

Sometimes it fucking sucks.

Sometimes I wake up and just don’t give a shit.

Sometimes I don’t want to go on a trip just because we need content. Sometimes I’m tired of taking pictures of menus, going to grocery stores to look at prices, and collecting brochures for our guides. Sometimes I don’t want to write another goddamn article or could care less about a brand deal coming through.

Sometimes I want to burn the whole thing down.

On those days, I think fondly about simpler times, when every day was Saturday and my biggest worry was tomorrow’s hangover. When I just enjoyed travel without the pressure of bills and salaries and traffic.

But no job is perfect. There are going to be times when the stress makes you want to scream.

If you’re going to do anything for the long term, you have to be willing to deal with those kinds of days.

Because, when you love what you do, you are willing to eat that shit sandwich. Gleefully.

I’ve been open about how, over the last few years, balancing it all has led to a lot of anxiety and stress, which is part of the reason I’ve slowed down and stopped traveling so much.

And it’s why I believe that when your passion becomes your profession, it is important to take some time for yourself.

You need to release the pressure and stress and enjoy your passion just because you like it and it makes you happy.

That’s why I take some trips I don’t write about.

It’s why I try to get offline and use social media less frequently these days.

It’s why I don’t do big projects (e.g., changing our email funnel) when I’m on the road as much anymore.

Life is a battery that needs to be recharged — and doing something for no other reason than that it makes you happy recharges that battery.

I think this is something a lot of people who “turn their passion into a profession” lose sight of in the beginning. They throw themselves right into the work because their passion is the driving force, without realizing or acknowledging the pressures and stress doing something for money creates.

The days and weeks pile up and they go so far into the weeds that they lose some of that spark that drove them in the beginning. They burn out, become depressed, and lose balance. They see the endless work in front of them and go, “When did it become like this?”

I always tell my students that the work never ends. You’ll never be done. There always will be something more to do no matter how many “passive revenue” streams you set up.

You need balance.

Balance is the key to “turning your passion into a profession” without burning out. Most people I know who end up doing something long enough learn this lesson after too many hours of stress and anxiety (though some never do).

It took me my first eight years to learn that lesson.

There’s nothing I’d rather do in the world than work in travel. I still love waking up and working and helping others change how they see the world.

But I’m also a lot better at creating balance in my life than I was in the past, which is why I don’t get burnt out as much (or think about burning it all down as often anymore).

To sustain your passion as a profession, you have to find balance so you can feed the fire inside you that made you leap into this in the first place.

Book Your Trip: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines, because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is being left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld as they have the largest inventory. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com, as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and hotels.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it, as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those 70 and over)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all those I use — and they’ll save you time and money too!

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