#Working in DevOps

[shonatanwer98]

Is DevOps Engineer a Stressful Job?- OpsNexa!

Explore whether Is DevOps engineer a stressful job?. Understand the key stress factors DevOps engineers face, including high expectations, on-call responsibilities, and balancing speed with quality. Learn how to manage stress effectively while excelling in this dynamic and rewarding career.

[dragongirldeity]

applying for a new job (positive)

[kumapillow]

Yes 😣 it’s nice and certainly very important to be able to enjoy your job 😄

(tbh I was also waiting for Shirosaki’s line where he calls Momose cute for being excited and all 😆 but they left that out here 😅 well he already said Momose’s cute in ep2 so 😅)

[daveio]

Hire me!

A reminder that I'm looking for work.

I'm a high-level devops engineer with experience of running my own team. I've previously worked at Facebook and Mozilla.

My CV is available at https://dave.io/go/cv if you want to check it out.

Feel free to share it with anyone who might be interested.

Thanks!

[otter-byte]

Coming from a company that did pretty good CI/CD makes everything else seem weird, like what the complete and utter fuck do you mean it takes four staff more than half a day to deploy updates to one website??? YOU AREN'T EVEN PROVISIONING INFRA WHY IS IT LIKE THIS

[psychopomp-namine]

golden rules I learned for rollouts so far: make sure it passes QA and unit/integration/E2E tests, set up a robust CI/CD pipeline, never rollout on a friday or weekend, always stagger rollouts, rollout to different environments for testing (dev > staging > canary > production, for example). and if you can, use feature flags or A/B testing first before deploying big changes. have a rollback plan in place and ready to go in dire situations.

[bulletsandbracelets]

I got another job offer from Wizards of the Coast (well, interview opportunity). This will be my second time turning them down because I enjoy my current job too much.

Last time it took 6 months for everything at my job to go to hell and for me to severely regret my decision. I swear, if WotC curses this job I am showing up at Garycon with sage.

[jvalentino2]

Finding a job as a software developer can be daunting, so the following video attempts to explain the various resources and techniques for keeping track of everything.

[notbecauseofvictories]

there is absolutely a universe, probably not even that far from ours, where I am an IT guy.

"IT guys" is gender neutral but it definitely does not include all persons of gender who happen to be in Information Technology and its associated disciplines. All IT guys are persons in information technology; not all persons in information technology are IT guys.

[lofi-valentine]

After having worked in the tech industry for almost 5 years I have learned the following: 1. Every contract I have ever been on has just been a huge scam to get as much government money as possible for as little work as possible 2. People repeat the same things over and over getting nothing accomplished, actively avoiding provided solutions to their issues 3. The entire industry overworks you for nothing and should actively unionize

[missedmilemarkers]

Missed Mile Markers:

Welcome to Missed Mile Markers! 🌿📸

Hello and welcome,

I’m thrilled you’ve found your way here! I’m a quirky, humorous, and enthusiastic photographer, capturing the beauty of Colorado’s parks and wildlife. Originally, I come from a background in internet security and technology—specializing in DevOps, infrastructure, and optimization—and I dabble in programming. But here’s where things get interesting: I’m also colorblind.

The Beauty of Seeing Differently

Being colorblind is at the core of how I experience and share the world through photography. I don’t edit my photos, and here’s why: if I were to edit them for my eyes, they just wouldn’t look right to most people. The warmth, the balance—it would all be off! My goal is to capture moments that stand out in my mind’s eye. If it catches my attention, then I figure for those who see color as it truly is, you’ll often be treated to something exquisite. Seeing differently means seeing something truly unique.

Here are some examples as how things look to me.

Here are edited photos that begin to depict how I observe the world. The bottom one is the normal photo which is unedited. The top 2 photographs are edited to so you can begin to understand how I see the world.

That is a big difference, or so I am told.....

No Formal Training, Just Passion

I have no formal photography training. Everything I know comes from reading, learning, and then simply getting out there and experimenting—like that classic advice, "always shoot into the sun"… just kidding, never shoot into the sun, unless you want to! 😄

A Lesson in Color: Unedited, Unfiltered

Take these two photos, for instance—both unedited, taken at the same time with the same settings, yet the difference in colors amazes me every time.

The difference in the above photos are slight positional differences, and slight variation in time (maybe seconds). However the only difference I see is the one on the left looks darker....

The variations remind me why I prefer not to edit my photos. To me, there’s beauty in capturing a scene as it is, without my colorblindness adjusting the reality of it.

Other Works:

Youtube Channel:

Video Blog: https://www.tumblr.com/videomilemarkers

Interested in My Work?

I do sell my photographs, and in most cases, I’m more than happy to allow them to be used in creative works. If that’s something you’re interested in, just shoot me a DM—I’d love to chat more!

Thanks for visiting, and I hope you enjoy seeing the world through my eyes.

~ MissedMileMarkers

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 3.3k+

Note: Oh my goodness thank you everyone for the kind words!!!!! I'm literally dying. Also if you're a programmer irl pls tell me if i sound like a boomer trying to write gen z slang. i also only did programming in school

xxx

The next two weeks blur into a rhythm I didn’t expect to find so quickly.

George and I fall back into sync like no time has passed. We have late-night conversations over leftovers, arguing about whether I should care about FIFA (absolutely not), whilst sitting too close on the couch without noticing. There’s an ease to it that’s both comforting and dangerous.

I find myself slipping back into old habits: stealing his hoodie when mine’s still damp from the wash, knowing exactly how he takes his coffee without having to ask. He still hums when he’s concentrating. He still leaves all the cupboard doors open like a gremlin lives here. It’s so familiar I almost forget how unfamiliar everything else is.

Chris and Arthur are new. I’ve never lived with them before, and the dynamic is still a little strange. Chris has a habit of narrating his thoughts out loud in the kitchen, and Arthur plays obscure indie music at volumes that feel vaguely confrontational, but they both seem genuinely nice. There’s a friendliness to them that doesn’t feel forced, just unpolished.

We don’t talk much beyond casual hallway chat, but I get the sense they’re good people. I’m still figuring out the rules of this new house: who uses which mug, whether it’s okay to steal someone’s oat milk, how long is too long to leave laundry in the machine. I tread carefully. It’s not mine yet.

I still haven’t unpacked properly.

My large suitcase lies half-open in the corner like it gave up halfway through. Every morning I rummage through it for something vaguely clean and wrinkle-free, and every night I promise myself I’ll deal with it tomorrow. I haven’t even begun to properly make space for myself yet. The best I’ve managed is rearranging a few things, so now I’m wedged between an unused exercise bike and a stack of old cardboard boxes labelled “wires??” in George’s handwriting.

I’ve discovered my cot sags in the middle. not dramatically, just enough to feel slightly tragic. I can’t decide whether to invest in a real bed now or wait until I have a flat of my own. I’ve saved over a hundred listings online, but I just can’t be bothered yet.

The room is not uncomfortable, just temporary. Everything about the space feels borrowed. Like I’m squatting in someone else’s life, waiting to see if I’ll be allowed to stay.

Instead of sorting out the mess of my personal life, I throw myself into work. Jira tickets and Slack threads are less complicated than the awkward limbo I’m in with George. And honestly, they feel like a better use of my energy than trying to figure out why I don’t quite feel like a real person yet.

The team at work are fine, in that aggressively polite British way where you can’t tell if they actually like you or if they’ve just been trained not to sue each other. I learned quickly who hoards the good coffee, who talks through every stand-up, and who has been very quietly dating the guy from DevOps for six months. The intern calls me “Miss Australia” like I’m some sun-kissed coding goddess. One of them asks how many snakes I’ve seen in my life. I say five. I make it sound casual even though it’s closer to zero.

In the evenings, I rewrite documentation just for the illusion of control. I start colour-coding my IDE themes. I spend an absurd amount of time making sure my folder structure is “aesthetically intuitive.” It’s easier to worry about whether my code is legible than to wonder whether George Clarke ever got over whatever it was that stopped him from liking me all those years ago.

Because sometimes I catch him looking at me like nothing’s changed. Like we’re still nineteen and in that stupid flat with the peeling wallpaper and the leaky bathroom and the futon we used to share when people stayed over. But then he blinks and it’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it.

Or if I just want to.

Life is just a bit weird right now. Not bad, exactly, just strange. It’s like that moment when you’re driving down the highway and suddenly realise: oh god, this is it. This is your actual life. Not a practice run or the bit before the plot kicks in, just the middle of the story, already happening. Emails and meal prep and laundry and pretending to understand council tax. Meanwhile, other people are out there getting engaged, starting companies, running countries. And I’m wondering if I can justify a full tank in a 2001 Toyota Corolla.

God, I miss that car. It wheezed like it had asthma and smelled like spilled iced coffee, but it was mine. Familiar. Predictable. I knew exactly how it handled on a sharp turn.

Here, nothing feels quite nailed down. Like I’m trying on someone else’s routine and hoping no one notices it doesn’t belong to me. I keep thinking real life is about to start any minute now, once I get settled or unpack or buy actual furniture. But this is it. The job, the cot, the too-quiet mornings and my severe lack of friends that I'm not harbouring a deranged crush from. I’m already waist-deep.

I just haven’t figured out how to feel real inside it yet.

xxx

One evening, I’m lying on my cot, doomscrolling through flat listings in Shoreditch. Spoiler: I can’t afford a single one. Cramped studio after overpriced shoebox blurs past my screen. Somewhere in the living room, the boys are talking. Chris’s voice bouncing off the walls, Arthur chuckling, George quieter as always.

I get up, thinking I should try to be social, or at least civil. They’re practically nocturnal, and I’ve barely exchanged full sentences with them. But just as my hand touches the doorknob, I hear my name.

“Y/N’s actually really pretty, isn’t she?” Chris says, like he’s surprised by his own observation.

There’s a pause. Its brief, but loaded. Then George: “Don’t.”

Just that. One syllable, sharp as glass. No laughter. No explanation.

I freeze. A chill curls up the back of my neck. Chris lets out an awkward laugh, mutters something I can’t quite make out, probably a joke, probably nothing. I slip my headphones back in like I didn’t hear a thing. But I did.

And now, I can’t stop replaying it.

The way Chris said it, So offhand, so casual, like he was commenting on the weather. The way George responded, fast and instinctive. One word. Don’t.

My stomach twists in that old, familiar way. What did I expect? A denial? A laugh? Maybe a 'Yeah, she is'? I’m not sure. But I know I wanted something different.

But I know George. He wasn’t being protective. He was being George. Keeping the peace. Not making things weird. He’s always been good at that—drawing clean lines in places where things get messy.

Still… he didn’t disagree.

I pull my blanket up to my chin, stare at the glow of my phone screen. I know better than to read too much into one word.

But I do anyway.

xxx

The party is a last-minute, thrown-together type of thing. George bursts into my room while I’m mid-doom scrolling.

“Come on,” he says, tossing my jacket onto my lap. “We’re touching grass.”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s ten degrees and I’m in my trackies.”

“Perfect. You’ll fit right in.”

The flat belongs to someone George knows from work.

Ha, “knows from work.” He’s a YouTuber too. I think he has a podcast? Or owns a podcast studio? I’ve honestly given up keeping track of his friends. I have a 9–5. They have brand deals and discuss 'the algorithm'.  Whoever this guy is, he definitely doesn’t have enough cups.

There’s music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker taped to the wall, a weird smell I can’t place (incense? weed? vape juice?), and one of those cursed LED signs that says something like Live Laugh Lager or whatever. I already hate it here.

George disappears to stash his drinks, and I end up perched on a broken stool in the kitchen, clutching a lukewarm cider and wondering if I’m officially boring for not enjoying sticky countertops and people arguing over which club to go to after. I’m contemplating leaving when he walks in.

Will.

I know his name is Will because three people shout it at once “WILL!” like he’s just come back from war or prison or a particularly long bathroom break.

He’s tall, dressed like he didn’t try but still looks like he belongs on the event poster. Black hoodie, denim jacket, messy hair, sharp smile. There’s a confidence to him. No, not confidence. Ease. Like the room bends a little to make space for him.

I clock the accent immediately. Northern. Thick, unapologetic, and halfway through a passionate rant about oat milk being a scam. His voice slices through the noise, equal parts outrage and entertainment.

And then we make eye contact.

Just for a second. But it’s direct, disarming. He smiles. Keeps talking to James? Jacob? Whoever he is looks more arty than the rest. I wonder if he's friends with Arthur.

James-Jacob exits the conversation, and before I’ve even registered that Will is moving, he’s already walking over.

Straight to me.

And for the first time tonight, I forget how sticky the floor is.

“You’re staring,” he says, but there’s a grin behind it. Its teasing, not arrogant.

“You’re loud,” I shoot back, deadpan.

His smile sharpens. “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

He steps closer, offering a quick, almost polite nod. “Hi. I’m Will.”

“Y/N.”

He tilts his head like he’s just solved a puzzle. “Of course you are.”

I blink. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “Nothing. Just… George mentioned his uni mate was in town. Didn’t think he meant you.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, eyes flicking over me with a grin that’s too knowing. “Dunno. Thought you’d be taller.”

I narrow my eyes. “And I thought people who rant about oat milk would be quieter.”

“Ouch,” he says, hand to heart. “We’re starting off strong, aren’t we?”

I don’t usually like cocky. I actively avoid it. But something about the way he grins, the way he doesn’t flinch when I bite back. It’s disarming. Confusing. He’s not my usual type, but there’s a weird… gravity to him. He makes the whole room feel like background noise.

George reappears, handing me a fresh cider. His eyes flick to Will, then back to me. It’s subtle, but there’s something in it, like he’s clocking the moment, not judging it.

Will picks up on it anyway. “Alright, mate.” His tone’s easy, casual, like they’ve done this a hundred times. I realise they probably have.

“I Didn’t know you were coming,” George says, leaning against the counter. "Good to see ya". He smiles.

“Yeah, wasn’t gonna,” Will says. “But I needed to touch some grass.”

“No way, that’s literally why Y/N's here.” George beams. “She’s been in the flat three weeks and already hates all of us.”

“I don’t hate you,” I say, taking a sip. “I just hate the constant yelling and your collective refusal to do dishes.”

Will laughs. “Sounds about right.”

Then he gestures to me. “She’s not your girlfriend, right? I feel like I would've heard.”

George snorts. “Not even slightly.”

“Cool,” Will says, shooting me a grin. “Would’ve been awkward if I kept talking.”

George raises a brow, still smiling. “When has that ever stopped you?”

Will shrugs, grinning wider. “Fair point.”

It feels a bit strange to be talked about like this, but I choose to ignore it.

George peels off a moment later, off to talk to someone across the kitchen, and I’m left wondering if that was nothing… or something. The exchange felt normal. Friendly. But the timing, plus Will’s question and George’s glance. It all lingers in the air between us.

“Oi, you’re double-fisting now,” Will said, grinning.

I choked on my drink. “What??”

“You’ve got two ciders in your hands.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed. “We say ‘double parked’ back home.”

Will shook his head, smirking. “That’s mental. Double-fisting is proper classic though. Means you’re serious about the party.”

George, overhearing from across the kitchen, called out, “Aye, Y/N's catching up already. Might be our most committed guest yet.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, taking a solid gulp from the half-empty cider.

Will raised his glass. “To double-fisting and proper nights out.”

I raised mine back, feeling the weird pull of fitting into this wild scene, still half confused, half curious.

I end up spending most of the night talking to Chris. He’s hanging out with Arthur, who’s, well… Arthur is smart, that much is obvious, but he's also three beers past the point of functional. He’s swaying slightly, his words getting a little slurred, but he’s still genuinely interested in my work. He asks me questions about programming, about how I got into it, and what languages I like. At one point, he confesses that he dabbled in it back in high school, which surprises me. I didn’t expect someone like him to have any kind of coding knowledge.

But here he is, drunkenly discussing arrays and variable types like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s endearing in a weird way. We keep talking shop, while the others drift in and out of the conversation like a blurry haze. I’m introduced to them all, but honestly, I lose track after the third guy who’s wearing a hoodie with an logo.

The host of the party stops by for a second, patting me on the back like we’re old friends. “You remind me of George,” he says with a wink, and I can't quite tell if he’s joking or serious. I nod, unsure how to take it, but I choose to take it as a compliment. No matter how weird, George is funny and good-looking.

The whole night, Will keeps hovering. Not in a weird way, just… present, popping in and out of the groups Chris and I keep forming. Will is the kind of person who fills up the space without even trying. He keeps throwing out jokes, arguments, ridiculous hot takes about tube lines and the food in London, and at one point, he tries to convince me to watch a Formula One race, despite the fact that I’ve already told him I’m allergic to high-speed sports.

Every time I think he’s about to move on, he swings right back into my orbit with something new, whether it’s an outrageous opinion on pineapple on pizza (pineapple can go on pizza, it goes on burgers back home) or an unsolicited, yet somehow fascinating, debate on why Spotify’s algorithm is “fundamentally flawed.”

And every time, I can’t help but bite back, giving as good as I get. I find myself engaging more than I expected, throwing in my own offbeat commentary, even laughing at things I’d normally find irritating. With him, it’s different. He’s relentless in the most entertaining way.

Meanwhile, George stays on the outskirts of the party, drifting around the edges of the room like he’s trying to blend in without fully participating. It’s familiar in a way that almost comforts me. He’s always nearby, but he's having his own fun, and I guess letting me touch my own grass. I try not to notice the way his eyes keep flicking over to Will every time he laughs, or the way his gaze seems to linger when I laugh with Will.

It’s subtle. Maybe it’s nothing. But I can’t shake the feeling it’s something more.

Eventually, I make my way to the door, my head spinning a little from the mix of cider and strange conversations. I catch George in the hallway, already on his phone, pretending to be ordering an Uber, which is the universal sign that it’s time to go. But just before I walk out, I hear Will's voice behind me.

“Oi,” he calls, his tone light but with that edge that makes my stomach do a little flip. “You’re alright, you know.” He pauses for a beat, considering his next words. “For someone who calls it double parked.”

My brow lifts. “Wow. That’s going straight in my LinkedIn recommendations.”

He laughs. He genuinely laughs like a muppet. Instead of his jaw dropping, his head flings backwards dramatically. I’m not sure why, but hearing him laugh like that feels like an invitation to something.

Something dangerous or something fun I can't tell, but either way, it pulls me in.

Without missing a beat, Will pulls out his phone, flicking through it like he’s already got a plan. There’s a beat where I stand there, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the Instagram search page. His fingers hover over the screen before gliding across. He looks up at me. There’s a challenge in his eyes, something playful but still sharp, like he’s testing me without saying it out loud.

I hesitate for just a second. Then, on instinct, I fill in my details. "Y/F/N.HTML?" he says, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "What's that about, then?"

I shrug, trying to play it off. "Oh, I’m a programmer."

Will's grin widens, and I can see him processing that for a moment, letting it sink in. "fuckin' nerd." It’s not unkind. More like a compliment wrapped in sarcasm.

I roll my eyes. "Tell me something I don’t know."

Will gives me a thumbs-up and, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, taps ‘follow.’ “I’ll see you around, Y/N."

I try to think of something to quip back, but he's already returned to the party.

As I step outside into the cold night air, the sound of George's voice calling out after me reaches my ears. "You good to go?"

I nod, but my mind is somewhere else entirely. Will seems arrogant and cocky, but his sweet moments are laced in. I can’t decide if I like it or if I should be annoyed.

I try not to let the thought linger too long, but somewhere in the back of my mind, Will’s grin lingers, and I can’t quite shake it off.

Somewhere about three blocks from the flat, I get a DM from Will.

I snort, despite myself, glancing over at George. He’s staring out the window, arms folded, looking like he’s thinking too hard about something. I don’t show him the phone, but I can’t resist. “Will says drop the big brother act.”

George glances at me, a little surprised, then smirks. “Right. Got it. I’ll stop looking out for you... and start letting you make terrible life decisions on your own.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Sounds about right.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe I’ve been a bit much.” He grins sheepishly. “But you know, I’ve got to make sure no one’s corrupting you. That’s a full-time job.”

I laugh, but there’s a shift in the air. His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, it feels like there’s more behind his smile. Like maybe he's not sure how to let go of the old ways.

Something’s changing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I can’t look away.

[literallyaurl]

We went with jira moment of silence please 😔

free kanban board tool

free kanban board tool online

free kanban tool online for fools

free kanban board tool online for approximately 12 neurodivergences in 5 people

free kanban board online for 5 dickheads whos neuros all diverge in wildly different directions

[probablyasocialecologist]

Spies are supposed to be good at keeping secrets, but soldiers in 8200 like to talk about their service. Technically, David said, he combed through data from a base in central Israel to determine where bombs should fall. But at the end of the day, he assured me, the military was really more of a networking opportunity—a surefire way to land a high-paying gig at Google or Facebook. As his time in the army neared an end, he turned his work surveilling the occupied Palestinian territories into a line on a corporate CV, toured high-tech companies in Central Tel Aviv, and was connected to cybersecurity CEOs over WhatsApp. While some soldiers in 8200 spend their time monitoring Hezbollah cells in Lebanon or waging covert war against Iran, others are tasked with managing Israel’s high-tech military occupation of Palestine. The destructive effects of Israel’s surveillance regime in the West Bank and Gaza are well-documented, but veterans of intelligence units who surveilled Palestinians often describe their work as removed from the reality of occupation. David was just one of many veterans I spoke with who framed his service in the parlance of high-tech careerism: as another kind of DevOps, product management, or data analysis. These days, intelligence units are structured in the image of tech conglomerates, and tech conglomerates are contracted to do the work of intelligence units. From Israeli military bases to Silicon Valley corporate campuses, warfare has simply become a white-collar tech job.

[track-maniac]

Maybe I'm just a baby girl of the interwebs so that's why I've never seen it before but I've just discovered a new scam. Someone came into my DMs with just "hi" (not a good start I'll admit) and I checked their blog, it looked alive and had cool drawings. We chatted a little bit and I checked their blog a little closer and oops!

The tags on the drawings are very generic (my art, drawing, etc), despite sometimes showing recognisable characters

Took me too long to notice but the style is very different between every piece

The pace at which they draw is unrealistic

I can't make this up they pinned someone else's intro post

"work complete" on a 10 minute sketch when the everything else is fully colored, sometimes shaded

"Comission" babe I'm a devops engineer and even I can tell this is a practice sheet

Bonus: drawing I've already seen before

I then proceeded back to our chat to let them know they could go fuck themselves for stealing from artists, and before I finished typing they had the audacity to ask if I wanted to buy "their" art. Which. Once again I'm not really an expert in the field but I don't think that's how it works ever?????

[kooppss]

Get to Know Me- Tag Game

@jungkoode thank you for tagging me ❤️ Kiks original post

I'll try not to over-overthink my answers. But I don't like choosing favorites, I love duality, I need to have both sides of everything. So there will be multiple answers for each question.

What’s the origin of your blog title?

I have a mug with cat pictures that says 'you've cat to be kitten me right meow'. I say it a lot. I like how it sounds. I don't know. Maybe I'll add a photo.

Koopps is sort of an anagram of how my husband and I sometimes call each other. And I like how it sounds.

Favorite fandoms:

One piece. JJK (tho sometimes I can't match the fandom freak). HxH. I'm not too deep into any fandom, I like to dip my toes in everything. In some, I like fanfic, and in others, I'm there for fan art. Depends.

OTP(s)/shipname:

Sanzo. I love my moss head and my cook.

Ace and I.

Favorite color:

I'm originally a pink girlie, but I like anything pretty, girly, pastel, and aesthetic. I dress mostly in natural colors/black, and my home has a neutral aesthetic with pops of color and colorful art.

Favorite game:

Lately, I've really gotten into Kirby on Switch. And I spent HOURS on Supermarket simulator with my husband. But my all-time favorite is probably Heroes of Might and Magic 3.

Song stuck in your head:

I can't choose one, but those are the songs I listened to on repeat in the last days/weeks/months/years.

'Would I Lie To You?' by Charles & Eddie. It's a problem. I listen to it ten times a day lately, or I'm not okay.

'Put Your Records On' by Ritt Momney. It's giving me my tae fic OCs vibe, I listen to it and daydream about them.

'Persuasive' by Doechii & SZA

'Tequila Shots' by Kid Cudi

'Love Really Hurt Without You' by Billy Ocean

Weirdest habit/trait?

I hate fruits. Can throw up only from smelling them. I'm very sensitive to scents and I hate how they smell. I need to hold my breath at the supermarket when I go by the fruit section.

Hobbies:

Cooking, baking, reading, writing, drawing, embroidery, pottery, anything creative basically.

I also love bird watching, hiking, and being in nature. One of my favorite activities is snorkelling. I live by the beach, but there's not much marine life here, so I need to travel for it.

If you work, what’s your profession?

software developer / devops

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

I love what I do. It gives me stability and a comfortable life. It also challenges me, requires me to use my brain, and requires me to constantly learn new things. And as much as I hate some days being a woman working in a male-led field, I find a lot of pride in it. I think it's important for women to work in those fields.

But leaving realistic thoughts aside, I'd love to live on a farm on a hill in Tuscany and have lots of animals. Or live in a beach house on a beautiful island. And just bake, and draw, and write my little stories.

Something you’re good at:

Cooking, baking, and being creative.

Problem solving, analytical thinking.

Something you’re bad at:

A lot of things. Like running, singing, having a father figure, finance.

No, but seriously, I try not to focus on what I'm not good at. It's not good for my imposter syndrome (women in stem thing, you know). You don't have to be good at something to enjoy it, and you don't have to do something you're not good at.

Something you love:

My husband. My sisters. My cats.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

Everything lol. I love to deep-dive into everything, especially if the other person knows what they're talking about.

But I can talk a lot about psychology, neuroscience, everything biology, evolution, art, birds, lizards, anime.

Also, talk with me about my man. I dare you. I won't shut up.

Something you hate:

Stupid people who talk with confidence about things they know nothing about.

Spiders.

Something you collect:

My husband and I have a nice growing anime figures collection (we have like 4 Zoros and zero Sanjis, which is a shame). I love cute kitchen utilities. I try to expand my art collection. I mostly like nature-related illustrations; I already have some birds, flowers, and a blowfish.

Something you forget:

Plot ideas that I swear 'there's no way I'm going to forget because it's so good and genius and fits them perfectly'.

And I forget people's faces and names.

What’s your love language?

giving - acts of service, gift giving, physical touch but only with my husband.

receiving - ACTS OF SERVICE, quality time, words of affirmation.

Favorite movie/show:

My favorite anime are HxH and 'That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime'. One piece, goes without saying. For Marvel, I really loved Moonknight.

I love the Kill Bill movies and '10 things I hate about you'.

Favorite food:

Anything Italian, chocolate, sweets, carbs, good bread with butter, French pastries. A lot of things.

Favorite animal:

Cats.

But also sharks, whales, turtles, komodo dragons (tho I didn't get the chance to see one irl), iguanas. I won't start to list the birds I like because we won't end this.

Are you musical?

No. I love listening to music. But I can't play any instrument, and I should never sing.

What were you like as a child?

Too good. Too mature. The overlooked one. The kind that 'she's good, she can take care of herself'. Shy, quiet, artistic. I'm healing through doing 'childish' things as an adult and stopping taking life so seriously.

Favorite subject at school?

Math, biology, chemistry, art.

Least favorite subject?

Probably gymnastics because it was lame and boring. I hated being sweaty afterwards, and that people smelled like sweat.

What’s your best character trait?

Sensitive and logical. I think I'm a very sensitive and emotional person, which leads me to care and give a lot of love. But at the same time, I need logic and order; it pushes me to work hard to have a good, comfortable life.

What’s your worst character trait?

Sensitive and logical. I take things personally, I overanalyze every social encounter I have. I overthink whether people around me actually like me. I'm very critical of myself.

If you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?

Not much. Pretty standard, good day. I'm just a little tired, so maybe a little power nap or better sleep at night. And maybe if by some magic, the shit-tone of work I have to do was already done for me.

But if we're doing fantasy, maybe I want to be on a beach vacation with my husband.

If you could travel in time who would you like to meet?

I don't have a good historical figure in mind right now. But maybe some famous artists? Like Van Gogh? See him in action?

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love):

I can't do one obviously, so I'll just drop a few of them.

Fuck Me Up by @jungkoode (AKA writer-wife)

Yes, I'm biased. I don't care. The fact that I know the writer is an amazing, smart, sensitive person just makes reading it even better. The attention to detail, the story, the realism, the smut, all of it, is on another level. And if you haven't already done so, check her other fics as well.

What Was Hidden by @daechwitatamic

I don't know how many times I've read it by now. It's my comfort fic, I can't even explain why. It's so easy to read in the best way possible. The storytelling is so good, the writing is on another level. I HIGHLY recommend. (If it's your first time reading it, I recommend leaving the tae pov parts to the end, as they might give you spoilers.)

Two Point Five by @bratkook

There's something so refreshing about this fic. Something between the fun writing and the change from the usual fic tropes. And this JK is so hot. And the smut.

Chasing Cars by @oddinary4bts

Read it only if you're ready to cry. It's an emotional journey, but it's so worth it. The story itself is really good, and the characters make you fall for them. I still want to hug this JK and tell him everything is going to be okay. The fic handles some very sensitive, emotional topics in a very intelligent and delicate way (check warnings before reading).

If you see this and you want to play as well, see yourself as invited ❤️