#I’d like to work on that cover letter for teaching but I’m not going to push it too hard—that can also be a Sunday project

[whentherewerebicycles]

my little loaf :)) my beloved guy :))))

I finished my rec letters last night and then hung out with my sister and ordered Indian food. got up early this morning and worked quite hard from 6:30-11:30 at work finishing a presentation draft + a round of revisions for this big project we’re wrapping up in the next few weeks. I might do just a little bit more work on it today—I’d like to go through the doc and make a detailed revision to-do list for myself so I have it all in one place—but then I’ll be done for the week.

as I was working on that project this morning I noticed that I was experiencing a deep sense of satisfaction & fulfillment, and it struck me that this will be the first time I’ve completed a big writing project (the kind involving multiple rounds of feedback and revision) since february 2022. I almost have happy tears in my eyes just recalling and re-experiencing the feeling now lol. my creative output has been been mostly stalled for nine months now and I’ve been thinking of that stalledness largely in terms of products—I’m not producing good work, I’m not producing stories or drafts, I’m not even really producing good story concepts. but I think what I really miss and feel the absence of in these creatively fallow periods are the rhythms of writing work itself. there’s something about that cycle of planning, drafting, revising, drafting, revising, drafting, revising that feels intensely good and pleasurable to me—that calm, relaxed yet deeply focused flow state where you are continually assessing your own work and making small purposeful changes and then assessing the changes. I love the work itself and when I am cut off from it, internally or externally, I feel like an important part of myself starts to wither. I know this stalled state isn’t forever (it never is), but I would be so much happier and calmer if I were absorbed in work 😩 but then also who knows—maybe this small little revelation will unlock something for me and help me figure out how to bring writing back into my daily life, even if it’s not in the fiction-writing mode that I’ve been trying to make myself work in.

[storiesofleftoverghosts]

dating the batboys... and their Taylor Swift songs (1/2)

pairings: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader, Dick Grayson x GN!Reader

warnings: none

requested?: nope! 

a/n: FOR SOME REASON MY TUMBLR ACTED UP AND POSTED ONE OF MY DRAFTS OH MY GOD IM SO EMBARRASSED. but of course my first work is Taylor Swift related. for those wondering, i don’t know if i’ll be doing romantic Damian Wayne anytime soon. just feels a bit weird. anyway! also I just wanted to get something out for people to see my writing style. expect part two with Jason and Tim tomorrow.

Bruce Wayne

as much as I love Bruce, I’m 100% a believer that it would be somewhat difficult to be in a relationship with him

i mean look at his taste in partners...

of course it’s because he’s Batman and he’s a secret vigilante blah blah blah

but also because he is Bruce Wayne!

THE BRUCE WAYNE

he is literally Kim Kardashian status people 

which means if you start dating him, you’re going to have to constantly deal with paparazzi, people digging into your personal life, etc.

and that’s just the surface level

the man has a lot of undealt with trauma and doesn’t believe he deserves love

plus he’s not one to open up about his emotions

I’d feel like there’d be a lot of arguments where Bruce goes too far trying to be protective because he doesn’t want to lose you but he doesn’t explicitly say that so he comes off as being a dick

do not expect this man to verbally apologize if you get into any arguments

he’ll apologize to you in his own way of course

if he was injured while on his nightly duties, he would distance himself from you while he healed (before you found out he was Batman)

would hesitantly let you patch him up because he doesn’t want you to see him as weak (after you find out)

once you do find out about his double life, expect Bruce to forbid you from trying to become a vigilante

he’s lost friends, past lovers, hell eventually even his own son

he would not let you do anything involving it and that’s finally

sorry dude

but it’s not too bad

Bruce loves you with his full heart

and he would do just about anything for you

no doubt in my mind this man would spoil you rotten

getting to see the somewhat soft side of Bruce more often than anyone else

not too big on PDA but once it’s just you two, this man cannot keep his hands to himself

going to one of his galas once you guys publicly announce your relationship and getting slightly overwhelmed from it all

him pulling you off to the side and making sure you’re okay

Alfred becoming a good friend of yours

once he fully trusts you and believes you to be his one and only, i think he’d tell you about his other life

or maybe you just accidentally stumble into the batcave

anyway i think he’d either put you in self-defense classes or teach you because it’s gotham and he can’t risk you getting hurt

he’d probably feel like he could never give you the peaceful life you deserve but he could never give up being batman

just understand that he’s an emotionally constipated man but he truly is head over heels for you

With all this considered I want to say that Dancing With Our Hands Tied (from Reputation) and peace (from folklore) are the best songs that would describe being with Bruce.

“People started talking, putting us through our paces I knew there was no one in the world who could take it I had a bad feeling

But we were dancing, dancing with our hands tied.”

Seeing the tabloids, the color drained from your face. You thought you would have more time before the press started trying to figure out who you were. No, you thought you and Bruce were being careful, sneaking around. But clearly not careful enough. There was your picture, on the front cover of one of the most popular magazines in Gotham. You couldn’t ignore the big bold letters already accusing you of using Bruce.

A shaky breath escaped your lips as you set the magazines down on the table. You were so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t heard footsteps approaching you until you felt strong arms wrap around your waist. Your eyes fell shut as you leaned into Bruce’s soft and warm touch. For a second, it was like every thought left your mind at once. It was surprising the effect Bruce had on you.

Bruce’s eyes traveled down to what you had set down. He rolled his eyes once he read what the magazines had already started to say about you. It would be a lie if he had said he was surprised the paparazzi had already found out about you. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they found out, especially with just how famous he was. 

However, he was more worried about you. He felt a twinge of guilt shoot through his heart. It was his fault after all you were now in the spotlight. He was used to being in it, especially from such a young age. But sometimes not even he can handle being under the constant watch of the public eye. No one can. 

Of course, Bruce was also nervous about you. If you were going to stay or not. This had always been a deal breaker for his past relationships. Well besides the fact of him being a vigilante. But normally they didn’t last that long for him to even think of telling his partner. However, you were different. You were someone who challenged him to think differently, and you constantly believed there was good in people, no matter what. He didn’t want to lose you. He just had a bad feeling. He squeezed a little bit tighter, but not too much to hurt you.

“If you’re worried I’m going to leave, don’t be. I knew exactly what I was signing up for when I agreed to go out with you.” You turned to face him and cupped his cheek. He almost melted into your touch. He looked into your loving eyes. He didn’t have to say anything, but you knew that he was just as much in love with you as you were with him.

Dick Grayson

Dick is a very complex character 

this man is also traumatized

his trauma is not talked about enough by the fandom and its sad

I would say that he’s moved past it, but it’s also left its scars (like trauma does)

he’s just so used to trying to make everyone happy he forgets to take care of his own feelings (im not projecting shut up)

but after being friends for a while and he starts dating you, you’d see right through him

him constantly deflecting his emotions with comedy because the man doesn’t like to be in uncomfortable situations and feelings are uncomfortable 

he’s a stubborn man so you’d have to be an even more stubborn person to try and make him change his mind in an argument

but even then sometimes there’s nothing that could change his mind

having a heart attack because this man doesn’t tend to think before jumps

however, he is such a sweetheart when it comes to relationships

he’s always putting you before himself

don’t let him push you away because he thinks he’s protecting you

always asking about your day and genuinely being interested in whatever you have to say

man’s gets literally heart eyes whenever you open your mouth

he is so big on PDA!

he’s always holding your hand or has an arm wrapped around your shoulder when you go out into public

being in awe of how flexible he can bend his body

until he pranks you by bending over backwards and running at you

“THAT WAS NOT FUNNY I ALMOST KICKED YOU” “it was funny to me and that’s what matters”

being Dick Grayson and Nightwing makes his life hectic, but he always makes time for you

not being too surprised when you eventually find out he is Nightwing

due to the fact when you’d go out by yourself, Nightwing would always happen to “bump” into you and would make sure you’d get to your destination safely

you knew those quips and that laugh from anywhere

turning anything you two do together into a date

whenever he notices you are not taking care of yourself or are just having a bad day, he does self care days with you

you doing the same for him

he doesn’t have as bad of overprotective issues as Bruce does

but he still has lost so many people in his life so of course he’s gonna be terrified of losing you like that

I just don’t think he’d let it control him

he’s so in love with you it’s not even funny

Okay so I’m so confident in my answer when I say that Paper Rings (from Lover) and The Archer (from Lover) are so Dick Grayson it’s not even funny. He’s just Lover coded, I don’t know what to tell y’all!

“I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you're the one I want, and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh huh, that's right

Darling, you’re the one I want”

“Dick!” You laughed and quickly turned your head away to not get hit with the paper wrapper from the straw he had blown towards you. He had missed his target, and the wrapper fell on the recently mopped checked floor. You shot a playful glare at him and stuck your red straw into your shared milkshake. He gave you one of his iconic smiles, putting his straw into the milkshake too.

The two of you were currently sitting in a big red booth in a 24/7 dinner at three in the morning. The smell of greasy food had filled the air, but it was quickly becoming a comfort smell to you. This had recently become a weekly thing between Dick and you. Whenever you both just couldn’t fall asleep, you’d find yourselves at the diner, talking about anything and everything under the sun. What can you say? The city never sleeps and neither do you two.

Your eyes wandered to the city lights outside. For once, Blüdhaven seemed still, as if it were frozen in time. Your mind wandered as you began to think how you ended up here in the first place. You had been friends with Dick since you were kids, always glued at the hip. It was no surprise feelings had started to develop as you grew older and as the days grew on, it had gotten harder to keep from him.

That was until one night, he showed up at your apartment drunk. Dick was never one to hold his liquor well. You had begrudgingly dragged him in and made a bed for him on the couch. It was then he started to spout out how he’s loved you since you were teenagers and how he couldn’t imagine his life without you. He then begged you not to leave and pulled you on the soft couch with him. It was hard to say no, so you didn’t and enjoyed the silence.

The next morning, you and Dick had a heart to heart and opened up about each others feelings to each other. Since that day, you’ve been stuck like glue to each other. When he wanted to leave to Blüdhaven, you were right behind him and moved in with him. It was funny to think that if it hadn’t been for that drunken “accident”, you wouldn’t have been where you are.

Feeling something being slid on your finger, you snapped out of your thoughts and looked down. It was a thin paper ring made from the straw wrapper. You looked up and stared into the ocean blue eyes that stared right back.

“Someday, it will be an actual ring.” Dick smiled and reached for your hand. You smiled and let him hold your hand, taking in just now warm and soft his hand was. It felt like home to you. You softly squeezed it, and took a sip from your milkshake. For now, this small paper ring would be more than enough for you.

[thestarryeyedadmirer]

I came into Art School thinking that it’d be a walk in the park. I mean, I’ve been making art my entire life — painting, sculpting, printmaking, and working with wood for as long as I can remember. Not to brag… but, I’ve won so many awards for my work, my parents had to buy an entire storage unit for me, just to have somewhere to store all of my accolades. I’ve even been recognized on a national level for some of my pieces. The things that many of my peers are only now learning how to do in college, I’ve been doing as mere hobbies for most of my life… and, I’d like to think that I’ve mastered them… so, it was only natural for me to come into my first year of university operating under such an ignorant assumption.

When it comes to school, I usually don’t have a hard time being successful. My academic records and transcripts speak for themselves. In all my years of education, I’ve never gotten a grade lower than a B, not even once, and I’ve been a Top Scholar since second grade. I’m good at juggling my responsibilities — making ample time for studying, doing and turning in my homework assignments earlier than I need to, acing every test, and racking up the hours of extracurricular activities — but, this semester, I’m having some trouble focusing in my Art History class… just the one class… and it’s not for any reasons that you may be thinking.

See… I have this professor — Professor Pascal — who teaches my Art History course… and when the year began, he was already about six months pregnant. I’m talking belly popping out underneath his shirt, outie navel as big as a doorknob, chest all puffy and leaky, feet so swollen that he can only wear Crocs and open-toed shoes in class, constantly moody and complaining about his body aches, binge eating in class, and too foggy-headed to maintain a straight line of thought pregnant. Like… pregnant, pregnant. Extremely pregnant. The man is at least forty-five years old… which is concerning on its own… and he’s as big as a house.

To make matters worse, he always wears clothes that he bought before he got knocked up — before he started to gain weight, and his belly began to swell — and they’re so obiously tiny and uncomfortable. Sweaters that are meant to be loose, stretched past their limits and tucked into his pants, to cover his massive stomach. Button-downs that pop open several times during lectures, exposing his hairy, bloated torso to hundreds of students at once. Suit jackets that don’t accommodate for the extra weight that he may have gained. Khakis that hug him so tight that they look like a second layer of skin. Underwear that peeks over the waistband of his bottoms, rides up his butt crack, and shows off a visible outline of his engorged genitals.

He so pregnant that it’s honestly hard to ignore. You know how, usually, when someone’s expecting, you can just acknowledge it and move on… most times, without things being weird or awkward? Well… it’s not like that with Professor Pascal. Not for me, at least. I just can’t stop staring at his belly in class… thinking about it. It takes up so much space in my mind, I think it may be making me… dumb.

No matter what the subject of his lectures are, what assignments he may have us doing for the week, or how many pages of notes that I take, I can’t stop gawking at it… curious. It’s like, I can’t see anything else, or hear anything. The huge whiteboard and padded, sound-reflective walls behind him fade into a plain, flat backdrop… and his words slowly turn to gibberish. I get tunnel vision… stop taking notes, and everything. I can’t retain any information… and then I have to cheat on my homework, my quiz grades drop… then my test scores, and then, my GPA. It’s a slippery slope.

I’ve never, not once in my life, had an overall letter grade lower than a B… but, in Professor Pascal’s Art History course, I’m going through the semester with a C+.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me… or what I can do to improve my grade. He doesn’t offer extra credit, or accept late work. He says that his class is “too easy for anyone to fall that far behind”… and yet, here I am, with a C+.

It’s just… when I’m sitting in that lecture hall — in the very first row of seats — that tunnel vision sets in, and I start to daydream. I… I fantasize about him coming down from his low-rise stage and walking up to me. He picks me, out of a crowd of nearly three hundred people, even though my hand isn’t raised, and presents me with a question regarding the curriculum… something that I’m supposed to know the answer to. Of course, I fumble the response… and, as he’s standing in front of me, waiting impatiently for me to come up with even a single sentence that makes sense, his button-down shirt bursts open, and his beautiful belly spills out, hitting my face like a fuzzy airbag. Next thing you know, I’ve lost control of my tongue, and I’m slurping at his navel as though a life-giving nectar is going to leak out of it… or something like that… in front of everyone — just making a sloppy mess of saliva on my professor’s pregnant belly.

It’s sick… I know. Maybe I’m disturbed, or there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m a freak… but I just can’t control it. The fantasy is too good. All I know is that, for the first time in my entire academic career, I’m falling behind… and, the worst part about it is that I can’t pin the blame on Mr.Pascal for being a shitty professor, or make the claim that he’s harboring some deep-seeded hatred for me. My poor grade is all my fault… and I have to live with that.

[patchworkgargoyle]

OC Fic: all the words of the dead

So, in between working on my steddie big bang, I've been descending deeper and deeper into brainrot over my OC, Dominik (tag: goth babygirl dom).

Very long story short, we put him into a mafia!au and killed him off and then developed the slowest slow burn romance for him after the fact.

This is the letter he leaves in his will for @steves-strapcollection's OC, Sam. You'll find Sam's letter in response here (please read it, it's so so so good).

Anyway, I'm gonna go cry over them now. Have this totally out of context.

Rating: M || CW: main character death implied

Title from Bad Luck Again - The Rural Alberta Advantage

Hi Sam, my darling.

You know, I thought I’d only ever have one letter to write. When I got old enough to start needing a will, I only had Vinny to write to. I love Lucky and Gia, but Vinny and me… thick as thieves.

Then I come back from my enforced vacation, and suddenly he has a fiance who turns out to be my best friend. Two letters, then. Two people to care about with my whole, shrivelled little heart.

The third and fourth ones are new. Unexpected.

It was a fucking frustration and an honour to teach your daughter, though I wish almost as much as you do, I think, that she and her brother never got within a hundred miles of this world. For their sakes, and for yours. I tried my best to help prepare her. I hope it’s enough. But she's tough as fuck, and she’s got you and those two boys of hers looking out for her, though, so I’m sure she’ll be okay.

She’s the third letter.

This is the midst of the fourth. The last.

I hope that you knew you’d get a letter when the lawyers started handing them out. I hope you didn’t doubt it.  It’s okay if you did.

I’m sorry you’re getting one. I don’t know what happened to me, obviously, but I probably went and fucked up something somewhere and now I’ve paid for it. You know how it is.

I hope you weren’t there when I died. If you were, I’m sorry. So sorry. We spend so much time together now that it might be possible you saw what got me but I don’t want that on your shoulders. They carry too much already. You should put some of that down sometime. Give some of it to me

Don't let Vinny and Ziah waste time and money on a big, useless funeral for me. And try talking to them, if you need someone. I know you. You're not as stoic and unshakable as you'd like us to believe.

This is har    Fuck. I hate this.

I’d say I don’t remember when I knew my feelings for you were more than just being really horny and very fond of you but that’s a fucking lie. It’s been about a year now. I'd so cruelly sent you home for the night, but insisted I walk you to your truck, and we stopped to chat because we can't seem to get enough of each other I'm a greedy motherfucker at heart and didn't want you to go yet. I said something that made you laugh, really laugh. Can’t remember what the fuck I said. All I remember is what your face looks like when you smile like that, what you sound like when you’re happy. I had to kiss you then or I'd do something incredibly stupid otherwise. Also asked you to stay the night for the first time.

You’re one handsome bastard, you know that, right? It’s deeply unfair. You look even better when you're between my thighs.

You’re sleeping in my bedroom while I write this. No one’s ever slept in my bed with me. But you've done it so many times now I lost track. When I’m done with this fucking letter, I’m going to crawl back under the covers with you and feel safe there.

You’re such a surprise, Sam. I never thought I could have something like you. I feel indescribably lucky that I could. We should’ve had a normal life together, but I wouldn’t change this. Never.

There’s something for you, other than the cheque the lawyers’ll hand you. Ziah will know where it is. Don’t take it the wrong way. I wasn’t planning any big surprises. It’s just something to remember me by because I wasn’t sure what else you’d want. You can sell it if you don’t care for it, the sapphire’s worth something at least, small as it is. I told Vinny to let you take anything from my apartment you might want.

It’s cold over here at my desk, I should be in bed with you     gotta write another fucking version of this, christ

I don’t know how to end this. What a fucking mess.

I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you even though I don’t know what it’s like. Never been in love before. But it feels like this, I think, like wanting to be around you all the time. Craving you. Trusting you. Sharing what life we have. Choosing to let you in over and over.

Vulnerability. Being changed.

You don’t have to love me too. I’m not going to fucking guilt trip you into loving me, post-mortem. This is just some kind of re-realisation of mortality based confessional at this point. You won't see this version of the letter anyway. You'll get one with fewer mistakes.

Do you think we have something, at least? Are we something? I hope we are.

I’ll tell you I love you in the morning, if I’m not a coward.

Forgive me if I was.

Yours,

   -Dom

[[READ SAM'S LETTER HERE]]

[mlobsters]

supernatural s10e19 the werther project (w. robert berens)

tw suicide (much later in the ep)

so as i watch the tail end of e18 again, i didn't have the energy to mention yesterday but we're just taking it as fact that the Mark is a curse? because rowena told crowley that, who in turn told dean? when we know that rowena is tricksy and aware of crowley's apparent weakness for dean, and that she's a witch that surely would also like to get ownership of the biggest baddest grimoire in town

maybe we should stop and think for a minute, i know deteriorating-brother makes all higher brain functions come to a screeching halt but hang on a tick

is this another hunter origin story situation? was that the men of letters logo thing, must be. i had to go and mention my wondering about stuff smoking in and out, now we've got some yellow smoke business

laughing at this goofy phone text interface screen. dean going alone to kill a vampire nest seems unwise on many levels. feeding the marky mark bloodlust, being dangerous for one person, etc

had to use that as the title image, sam's "you couldn't have waited??"

LOL amazing. no notes

DEAN But I did. It’s done. Come on, man. It’s the only way I can take the edge off. I’m sorry. I don’t always like to wait around for you, especially with you looking at me like that all the time. SAM Look at you like what? DEAN Like that. Like I’m some sort of a-a-a diseased killer puppy

if it walks like a duck.....

DEAN You know what, man? I’m sweaty and I’m covered in vamp juice. Can we just talk about this later? I’d like to get back to the bunker, get my buzz on, and, uh, you know, pass out watching “Speed 2 – Cruise Control.” We cool?

i like how dean smacks him in the chest so hard (for no reason) that sam grunts and winces. WE'RE COOL, DEAN, YOU'RE CLEARLY HAVIN A NORMAL ONE

(nevermind me not telling you about cas and metatron, or not destroying the book, or working with rowena to decrypt the book, or......)

maybe smack him again, dean. harder

DEAN WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT THIS. at least get out of your jeans and get under the covers. like, you showered and changed into more jeans with the plan to fall asleep watching a movie? not okay, my dude. you wore sweats in the last episode, i know you have them!

feelin guilty enough to say something yet, sam???? (course not, go sneak off to do sneaky research with your cute sidebangs)

eyes glazing over at olden times men of letters story, as ever

this bad boy visionary with his killer box reminds me of the dude that was collecting shit that had the.... first blade? whoever the fuck that was. was it a different dude? ugh. lol. same dude.

HEY that's the episode with the other microsoft surface product placement that i was fucking looking for the other night

genuinely got a little scared for sam there for a second. that very relatable feeling of getting caught doing something (even if it wasn't wrong what you were doing) with someone who is unpredictable and maybe violent; which i unfortunately also have firsthand experience with. they played that kind of sinister music, dean's acting more demonic, etc.

DEAN Well it looks like I, uh, I’m here to save your sack. Look, you were right, okay? I shouldn’t have gone off solo like I did. It was stupid. SAM And? DEAN And selfish. It was a douche move. If you’re doing this case by yourself to teach me a lesson, you don’t have to, okay?

don't like that kind of music fakeout but am appreciating they're having him be very not-demonic straight away to reassure my frazzled nerves

SAM We’re Men of Letters. It’s our legacy.

snorted. so cheesy and i don't think dean or i give two shits for that excuse. but also! very bad sam for continuing to lie. *fetching the squirt bottle*

this lady's voice sounds familiar

OH MY GOD. haha she was in the episode of star trek the next generation where they're on this planet where everyone is all half naked and dtf and happy and then wesley crashes into a garden or whatever playing future-space-football or something and it's a transgression punishable by death!!!

LOLOL the "aliens" outfits are I C O N I C and she's one of them! also iconic wig

star trek: the next generation s1e7 justice - brenda bakke as rivan

SUZIE Uh, tall, white fella. DEAN Uh, huh. SUZIE Pretty hair.

i think the hair teasing is usually overblown because it's like oo hair that's longer than 4in, it's girly! but this haircut and styling in the back is very feminine bob and it does not mesh with how it looks in the front or his general vibe

no idea what's going on. but if they're hallucinating their extra bad feelings, dean's are purgatory? not say, 40 years in hell? -_- wanted to bring back a purgatory actor and not a hell one? :p have to create something for hell and we can just dick with the coloring in the woods and be in purgatory? it is very pretty though and i like this shot, it's pretty creative

SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy?

this should hurt. it's very cutting, his brain yelling at him through this hallucination. but there's just too much shit happening and you need more of a setup than this, in my opinion, to get those feelings to really land

dang benny, lookin good! i like the hair and swagger

so tiny and her wiggly dance, could just stick her in your pocket

twist her arm

okay see. these have the chance of landing and cutting deep. we have a connection to benny, we know dean and benny's connection is strong (within the bounds of a not-sam relationship). we can hear his deep down fears through benny's voice and get caught in them just like dean might

BENNY “Need” and “Want” are just two different things, ain’t they? It’s all a figment, right? You, me, left right. But no matter which way you turn, you keep ending up here. You gotta wonder—why this figment? Why this place?

(why me?)

DEAN What are you saying? BENNY Nothing you don’t already know. This is where you wanna be – you’re happy place. And you don’t really wanna leave.

with your sam-replacement

SAM The blood of our own. Men of Letters blood. Legacy blood. My blood.

snort #2

damnit. this episode should have come with a big fucking suicide warning placard at the beginning. i have a close personal loss to suicide and dean's self destructive bordering suicidal history is always hard but this straight up not only discussing his desire to have sam and cas kill him but leading him to the conclusion that it would truly be better to kill himself, and knowing this is exactly the kind of thing he would believe is way too much for me and i'm gonna skim the rest and end this here.

editing, for my own reference, lines at the end.

DEAN That says something, doesn’t it? Werther splits us up in there. Within an hour, we’re both on the brink of death. Sorry about yesterday, going rogue on you like that. SAM You know what, Dean? Don’t apologize. I… I think that makes us even. DEAN The universe is trying to tell us something we both should already know. We’re stronger together than apart.

[louisesloveletters]

Letter #8: Sit back, relax, and let God do the rest.

“I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.”‭‭ -Jeremiah‬ ‭31‬:‭25‬ ‭NIV‬‬

The world we live in today has led us to believe that tasting success requires relentless hard work and aggressive pursuit of our dreams. While this formula works for some, it doesn’t always bring fulfillment and joy.

Many people face burnout, anxiety, stress, and depression despite their achievements. Why? Because they struggle to rest and let go of things beyond their control. Humans are often obsessed with maintaining control over their lives.

For instance, when I worked as a freelance copywriter, I’d finish assignments early, driven by a desire to get things done. Despite loving writing, my dream became a source of burnout and stress. It no longer brought happiness and motivation; it became just a job. I lost touch with myself and the initial dream.

God extended His mercy, saying, “Take a rest, my child.” I had forgotten to be gentle with myself and grateful for what I had. Focused on completing tasks and earning, I lost sight of the original vision – to be a good writer and enjoy what I am doing.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” -John‬ ‭14‬:‭27‬ ‭NIV‬‬

God is so good that He always reminds us to take care of ourselves and to live the life He has given us to the fullest. His definition of living life is far different from what our world teaches us. He doesn’t scold us, yell at us, pressure us or shame us for not doing everything. He just wants us to do what we can do and trust Him to cover the rest of what we can’t do. His love for us is so unconditional that it gives us peace we cannot fathom. The kind of peace this world can never provide us.

I hope you have this confidence that no matter how stressful your day gets or how hard your work life is, God’s got you. You don’t have to work your ass off every time, because He will provide everything you need. You just have to trust Him.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” -Isaiah‬ ‭40‬:‭28‬-‭31‬ ‭NIV‬‬

If you have a tough week, don’t worry, God will give you rest. Take this sweet time to appreciate your wins this week, no matter how big or small it is. God is proud of you for not giving up. Get a good nights sleep and give all your worries to God.

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” -Isaiah‬ ‭26‬:‭3‬ ‭NIV‬‬

P.S. God loves you.🤍

P.P.S. Have a nice weekend ahead. I’m proud of you. :)

[elisela]

control marrish, 1.6k, au, established relationship day 2: new beginnings (also on ao3)

She only overhears them because the files in her arms start slipping as soon as she rounds the doorway and she has to stop and adjust them before they drop. 

(Just leave it, nothing’s ever good enough for her. 

She’s so uptight. 

Must be wild in bed or her boyfriend would have left years ago. Who wants to be with someone that controlling?

Bet he likes being told what to do.)

She files a complaint with HR the same day, but doesn’t make her forget. 

--

“Here?”

God no, she thinks, there’s no balance with the other frames, it should go two feet to the left. “Sure,” she says, offering Jordan a slight grin. “Do you need me to grab the level?”

He squints a bit at the wall and shakes his head. “No, I think I’ll be fine without it.”

She has to consciously unclench her jaw before she starts grinding her teeth. Her book is lying face down on the couch, has been since her boyfriend walked in the door with the piece of artwork she’d admired in the gallery downtown, and she picks it back up so her inner thoughts don’t become spoken. It doesn’t hold her attention in the least, not while Jordan is working, but it gives her something else to look at so he doesn’t catch her eye twitching. 

“What do you think?”

“Perfect,” she lies, tossing the book down to her side and reaching out for his hand, bringing it to her mouth so she can kiss his palm. “Thank you for the gift.”

His wrist twists and she leans into it when he cups her cheek. “You’re welcome, babe.”

--

“Do you think I’m controlling?”

Stiles snorts, wiping his hands on the towel tossed over his shoulder before he plucks a clean glass from under the bar and pushes it on top of the shaker. “Let’s not sugarcoat things, Lyds, you’re the most controlling person I know.”

She frowns, twisting the maraschino cherry stem through her drink. “You’re married to Derek.”

“Who let’s me do anything I want and saves his bitching and complaining for people who actually want to impress him,” Stiles says, stopping to wave a hand around the room, ostensibly showing off the group of wait staff gathered around the hostess stand. “Besides, he’s not controlling, he’s picky.”

And I’m not? “I came to see him, you know,” she says instead, taking another sip of her drink to cover the way her chest aches. 

“Yeah well, it’s that time of the month and he told me that five minutes of listening to the local ‘talent’ he had booked to play tonight was enough to make him want to bite everyone in here, which I know is a bunch of bullshit but apparently I still can’t resist his puppy dog eyes.” Stiles says with a little sigh, setting the shaker down. “Forget controlling, he’s a manipulative dick.”

“Picking up all your worst traits, I see,” she says, a little meanly, which only serves to make her feel worse.

Stiles only grins and says, “I know, I’m teaching him so well.”

--

“You’re doing the laundry,” she says, cautiously. Jordan never does the laundry. Laundry is sacred, because Lydia follows wash instructions to the letter and Jordan … does not.

Jordan shrugs, giving her a sweet grin. “You’ve seemed stressed. Figured I’d take this off your to-do list.”

It’s not hard to smile back—she’s always felt a little helpless in the face of his affection. “I appreciate it,” she says, trying not to wince when she sees her black silk dress sticking out of the bottom of the pile he’s folding. 

“I followed the instructions,” he adds, folding one of the sweaters she typically hangs, “but some of them didn’t have a tag.”

They’re on the side seam, she thinks, squeezing his arm on her way past and leaning in briefly when he abandons his job to pull her into a hug. She spots one of her hand-knit cardigans in the wash pile behind him and makes a mental note to sneak it out before it makes its way into the machine.

--

“Do you think I’m controlling?”

“Of course not,” Allison answers immediately. 

It’s a little too quick to be believable. 

--

Jordan’s looking at her doubtfully, and Lydia makes a show of digging through her jewelry box so she doesn’t have to look back. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” she says. I’ve only had these reservations for two months, they’re only nearly impossible to get. “Go, it’s fine.” He doesn’t move, and she glances up and meets his gaze in the mirror. “What?”

“I—” he sounds a little bewildered. “You hate it when I have to cancel plans.”

She shrugs. “You wouldn’t lie to me about the bar being short staffed.”

“No,” he agrees, but slowly, like he’s trying to work something out. “”Lydia—”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as much a reminder to herself as it is for him. “We can go another time.”

--

She’s not proud to admit that she nearly panics when Jordan pulls the car up to Rosie’s. “I thought we were going to Fanny’s? Let’s go to Fanny’s. They have those blueberry pancakes—I want those.”

“Lydia.”

She takes a measured breath. “Please?”

“I know you’re probably thinking worst-case scenario—”

“Well, that’s what we come here for,” she says, holding up a hand and ticking her points off one by one. “There was the I’m leaving Beacon Hills talk, the let’s take a break talk, and who could forget the I can’t have kids talk and subsequent—”

“There was also,” Jordan says quietly, catching her wrist and sliding his fingers between hers until they’re holding hands, “the I love you talk, the let’s move in together talk, and now it’s going to be the I’m worried you talk. Come on, out of the car.”

Lydia admits defeat and goes. 

They wait, as they always do, until their food has been eaten and they’re lingering over coffee to start; Jordan slips out from behind the table and resettles himself next to her, wrapping one warm arm around her shoulder and pulling her in until she’s resting her cheek against him. “I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be,” she says, patting her hand against his thigh. “Everything is fine.”

“It’s just—you’ve been so quiet,” he continues. “I hate it when you’re quiet. I’ve been trying to figure out what could have happened but I thought everything’s been fine, hasn’t it? So could you just—just tell me. Please.”

She takes a sip of her coffee before she gives in; it was inevitable anyway, because she’s always been terrible at keeping things from him. “I’ve just been hearing lately that I’m a little controlling, so I’ve been trying to let things go more often. That’s all, I promise.”

“Well, don’t,” he says, so bluntly that she looks over at him in surprise. “You can call it controlling all you want, but I don’t see it that way. I like knowing where you stand on things, I like not having to guess what you want, and I don’t want you to change.”

“You shouldn’t have to go along with everything I want just because I—”

Jordan huffs out a laugh. “If I go along with it, it’s because I don’t care one way or another. I don’t care where we hang a picture—yeah, Derek told me it didn’t look great where I put it, I’ll fix it when we get home—I just care that you’re happy with it. If I don’t like one of your suggestions, I’ll let you know.”

She squeezes his thigh when he kisses her temple. “Okay,” she says. “If you’re sure.”

--

The pit in her stomach still doesn’t go away.

--

She takes him back to Rosie’s a week later and Jordan, ever patient, doesn’t so much as look concerned throughout their meal—but does frown when she stops him from moving from his seat by kicking her foot up onto it. “I just want to see your face,” she says, and he smirks at her.

“Don’t you always?”

“Pretty much.” She grins when he pushes her foot off the seat and stretches a hand out so she can hold his across the table. “I thought, maybe, the whole controlling thing was the reason—or one of the reasons—that you didn’t—that we haven’t gotten engaged yet. That maybe you were figuring out if you really wanted to live with that for the rest of your life.”

Jordan looks so confused that her heart skips a beat. “Why would I need to figure that out? We’ve talked about getting married before.”

“Yes,” she says; it doesn’t take long for him to get it. “For about two years now.”

His face softens, and she doesn’t stop him when he gets up and walks around the table to sit next to her. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, so affectionately that she tilts up to kiss him. “Of course I want to marry you. I’d go to City Hall tomorrow if I didn’t know you wanted a big wedding.”

“It doesn’t have to be big,” she says, because it’s his wedding too and she should at least be able to compromise on that. “Just—something a bit more refined than a justice of the peace situation.”

“It can be as big as you want it to be,” he promises, picking up her hand and holding it. “Look—this isn’t your proposal, I know better than that. But if I promise you we’ll be married by this time next year? Would that make you feel better about it?”

She lifts an eyebrow at him. “You clearly have no idea how long it takes to plan a wedding, do you?”

“Not at all,” he says, grinning. “Alright, how about this—start planning, and don’t argue with me if I make plans for us in the next month or so. Good?”

“Good,” she says, unable to help the smile that seems like it may become a permanent fixture on her face. “But no hiding a ring in food, that’s tacky.”

[tapgiles]

Dreamers, I need your help.

This is an open letter to the community at large, discussing my financial situation. If you don't want to hear about stuff like that, don't worry about reading the rest of this, and have a pleasant day.

For years I've been unable to work normal jobs. Always been fine with the actual work, but all the things surrounding it would slowly kill my mental health. Sudden changes in tasks, going out on the road, unreasonable deadlines from other departments... Essentially, things that weren't a problem while I had a good manager. But of course, there's a lot more poor managers out there than good managers, so I succumbed to my mental illness and found I could no longer work a normal job.

I was on benefits (welfare), which let me relax about money, but with the new pressures to find work despite my health and ability to cope with it, that only eroded my mental health further.

Then I found Dreams, a community that was in need of more programmer-y types to pick things apart and understand how things really worked, ways of building smarter, advice on problems to avoid. And to answer questions creators have.

I've worked for the community for going on 4 years now. My work is 99% freely given--responding to posts and questions online, reference documents, and videos teaching people that have a range of experience levels how to use Dreams.

As I saw my mental health taking a decided downward-spiral trajectory from the benefits institution, I was fortunate enough to find financial aid from a member of the community--to whom I'm eternally grateful--for an entire year! I saved what I could, and started a Patreon in the hopes of keeping things rolling--the supporters of which I wholeheartedly appreciate. And offering more direct services to help people who wish to donate.

At the start, I didn't know how long I'd need to fill that role. Perhaps Mm would be supporting creators using the tools. Perhaps they'd have proper documentation and videos teaching newcomers. If I kept at it and showed I was good at this stuff, perhaps they'd even hire me on to whatever team they had covering that stuff internally.

However, this hasn't become a focus of Mm themselves as I had hoped. I've had a couple of near-misses when it comes to getting hired by Media Molecule, but from our discussions and how Dreams has developed thus far... it seems from the outside that there will never be such a team at Mm, and so there will never be an opportunity for me to officially aid in such endeavours as a paid employee.

I may have been too enthusiastic about supporting creators, essentially doing work I thought Mm would be doing, without being actually employed by them. Perhaps that was a mistake on my part, but something about those initial goals, vision, and "dream" of Dreams has inspired me to continue my efforts regardless. For the creators in the community.

So, I've just been out here on my lonesome, doing what I can to help creators "in the trenches," and engaging with Mm the only way I know how: Thinking of simple ways of greatly improving the lives of people who love creating in Dreams, that are not responded to or implemented. Reporting bugs that could be fixed to make creators' time with Dreams better, which are often left outstanding for years. And burning through what little money I have left.

As I said before, I'm fine with the work itself. I've tried and tried all I can, I've had hundreds of suggestions, I've done what I can to take them on board... but the things surrounding the work are still a nightmare for me:

I don't know how to make my YouTube channel successful enough that it can help to pay my bills. I don't know how to grow a business. I don't know how to attract more people to the Patreon or my services.

What's worse is... I really dislike doing any of that stuff in the first place. I don't like asking for money. I don't like advertising the Patreon. I don't like charging to help people when many can't afford it, instead of helping freely.

On top of that, none of those things have really worked anyway. Which brings me to the reason I am writing this letter.

I have no money. My sole income has been this Patreon, donations, and commissions for direct help. And while I am grateful for what I have received out of the kindness of people's hearts... it has never been enough to cover my bills. The majority of spending has been from my savings. And those savings are dwindling.

I'm down to 2 months of rent money left in the bank, maybe pushing to 3 including the Patreon income over that period. I'm closing ranks, and cutting all the spending I can handle. And beyond that I'll be leaning on my family to carry me.

I still suffer with depression, and anxiety--both of which are worse as my situation becomes more dire. The worry that comes with applying for jobs that I know will make me suffer mentally... makes me suffer mentally. Applying for benefits again is a long road to get to a place where I am ground down to nothing.

I could leave Dreams behind and pursue other ideas, other channels, other ways of teaching and helping a different community. But I'd lose what I have, and be back in the same situation I'm already in.

I have added a goal to my Patreon page... and it's been my only goal in my entire time doing this work. To have enough to pay my rent for the month.

If you can contribute towards this goal, please sign up to the Patreon at whatever tier you choose. Or you can send donations to my paypal account. If you believe in the work I do, please send this letter to others who love Dreams.

Sincerely, TAP.

[autumn-storms-and-coffee-rings]

i just need to take a moment and vent my frustrations. 

there are several things i would like to do with my life. 

but so many of them are unattainable for a variety of reasons. sometimes it’s not as simple as the cliches and toxic positivity would lead you to believe. sometimes you can’t will yourself into the life you want. sometimes you can’t be anything you want to be. 

and most of the barriers stem from our society.  

i would love to teach.

but to teach in high school, i would need to go back to school. despite having taught high school for nearly two years, i would have to go back to school to obtain licensure. my experience and extensive education in social studies would not be enough. 

but to teach in college, i would need to go back to school. despite having taught college courses, i would have to go back to obtain a PhD. my experience and master’s degree would not be enough to secure a position beyond an instructor or adjunct. most of those positions are part-time and do not offer insurance. 

i would love to be a lawyer. 

but i would need to go to law school. most law schools forbid students from working jobs while earning their JD. i do not have the financial resources to go that far into debt for law school. i am chronically ill and must have health insurance, which is really only affordable if it comes packaged with a full-time job that i couldn’t have while in school.

there are other paths i’d love to take. all of them follow a similar narrative. 

i’d need to go back to school. 

i’d need to go into substantial debt to do it. 

i’d need to forgo health insurance or full-time employment to do it. 

i’d need to sacrifice my health to do it. 

i’m single. i have no one with which to split life expenses or share health insurance. 

i’m chronically ill. i do not have the capacity to work a full-time job AND go back to school. i am not able to be without health insurance. 

i’m not financially stable. i do not have the financial resources to afford to go back to school. or to work only part-time and go back to school. or to afford insurance on the marketplace so i could at least take care of my health while going back to school. 

(because of various laws in my state, my marketplace options are limited. most of the plans available to me would not cover all of my medications or doctors. and most would require i pay $8000-$9000 out of pocket before the insurance company would start covering anything, co-pays would kick in, etc.)

anyway. 

i’m tired. 

i’ve been unemployed minus two contract positions that don’t remotely make ends meet for almost a year. 

i’ve been searching for a fulfilling job for nearly seven years. 

in that time, i’ve received two job offers. 

i want a job that pays the bills and fulfills me. i’m finally beginning to understand that notion is quixotic.

it’s becoming increasingly difficult to remember that i am worthy.  that i’m not a failure. 

i know it has a lot to do with capitalism. with the society we live in that so often fails to value who i am and what i have to offer. . 

i know it has a lot to do with an impossible number of hoops to jump through. the right font for resumes. the right resumes. applying at the right time and the right day (yes, really). knowing the right people (i don’t know the right people). 

i have a myriad of resumes and cover letters. i network. i reach out. i send letters of interest. 

i’m doing everything “right.” i did everything “right.” (so much for that “if you go to college, you’ll be employable” story).

and i’m getting nowhere. 

and i’m falling so behind in life. in where i thought i’d be in life. in where i wanted to be in life. and i don’t know if i’ll get there. i don’t know if i’ll ever own a home or be able to travel or know what it’s like to not be in survival mode. 

i’m getting older. my degrees are getting older. my chronic illnesses are becoming more unmanageable. 

and i’m still waiting for my life to begin. and every path seems closed.

[pushthepaceacademy]

Here are the top 10 things I wish I’d known when starting out:

1. Sellers don’t close deals, buyers do. Obsess with buyers’ internal meetings as much as your sales meetings. Tie your actions to the critical tasks they need to complete to build consensus internally, not your sales stages. 2. Having all calls on the calendar ≠ control (!). It is the illusion of control. If calls aren’t balanced with a good between-meeting buyer enablement workflow, you’ll most likely end up surprised. 3. Your role is not to just execute your sales stages, but offer ‘Project Management Services’ to your buyers’ stages. The sales stages are there to offer a good foundation to go back to, but they cover only 5-17% of your buyers’ stages… 4. Budget rarely is a reason to qualify out. Nobody wakes up with a budget set aside for the thing you sell. "No budget" simply means they haven’t found a good enough reason to create one yet. Unless they’re too small, in which case, why are you having a sales call? 5. Multithreading is more than how many people are on your calls/emails. That’s a vanity metric. It’s about building relationships with each key stakeholder separately to support their specific needs/requirements/concerns. That’s what moves the needle. 6. Structured deep discovery doesn’t work well in executive calls. You *have to* lead with stories, teach them something new, and let a conversation develop. If you try to have conversations first, they’ll tune off. 7. You *cannot* run Outbound intro calls like it’s Inbound. Lead with discovery on the latter. Lead with insights on the first (like w/execs). It’s ok to use slides if they serve the discovery. It’s even OK to demo before you have all the pain points figured out. As long as it all serves the discovery. 8. Only in a perfect role-play can you get all disco done in an intro call. If you try too hard, you end up with angry prospects. Worry less about the letters in your framework, and more about having a meaningful conversation around ‘why do anything’, ‘why now’ and ‘why you’. The rest only helps you and can come later. 9. Nothing cuts down deal cycles like dictating a high rhythm of communication. Received an email? Answer from your phone right away. Talking next steps? Offer a call tomorrow. Discussed timelines/MAP? Recap that on every follow-up. It’s not a sales trick, it’s sociology, human nature. 10. Never begin a POC without executive alignment. On the scope, success criteria, and the problem and priorities the project addresses. Explain to your champion how getting execs involved helps get their voices heard before putting in all the resources that a POC requires. Make it about them, not you.

[or-something-better]

Sam & Ruby

November 19, 2022

Ruby

Putting on my terry-cloth robe, I quickly towel dry my hair before throwing the towel over the shower door to dry. Running a hand through my hair, I shake out the tangles. Leaving the slippers, I walk barefoot into the kitchen to start the kettle.

Glancing over at Sam on the couch on my way through, I can see he’s absorbed in whatever project he’s started.  I know he’s trying to distract himself. I can’t blame him. I wish I knew how long it would take for him to be able to open up about… that. But now is not the time to push him.

Sam

Seated on the sofa, I glance up briefly as Ruby walks through to the kitchen, before turning my attention back to the notebook in front of me. Studying the last dates that I wrote down, it feels like something isn’t quite correct. Shuffling through the notes scattered across the sofa, I find the page I need and verify that it isn’t. Erasing my penciled note, I brush the page clean and write in 1912-1914, underlining it twice.

 Ruby

Once the tea is finished, I take my mug and go to sit next to Sam. Seeing the couch covered with papers and books, I just stand. “What are you doing?”

 Sam

Distracted still, I just answer automatically. “What?”

 Ruby

Waiting for him to look up, I see that isn’t going to happen, so I just stand there, silent.

 Sam

 When I’m met with nothing but growing silence, I finally look up at Ruby, noticing that she’s just standing there staring at me. “What…” Then it dawns on me that I’ve totally just blown past anything she was trying to say to me, and I feel instantly like shit.

“Sorry, Ruby.” I reach out and scoop up the notebooks, pages and folders crowding the sofa.

 Ruby 

Sam, I know you don’t want to talk about the whole Void thing, I get that. And I want you to take all the time you need. But, I would like to know what all this is about. I sweep my arm toward the mess on the couch.

 Sam

Just hearing the Void come out of Ruby’s mouth gives me a little jolt and I know that SHE knows what’s really going on with me at this very moment, and aren’t I the luckier for it.

“Yeah…” I look at the notebook I’ve been working to fill up all morning and the other folders and journals before me. “This is some stuff that Charlie found in the Bunker a couple of months ago. I’d meant to look into it all before now, but well, everything happened.” I take a deep breath and lift up Wilfred’s journal. “It really seems like all this might have some of the answers that she’s wanted to know about her mother’s family, and the connection that also makes her a Men of Letters Legacy.” 

 Ruby

“That will be very helpful to Charlie. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.” I drag a chair over.

 Sam

“This is my great-grandfather’s journal, Wilfred was his name. Now I haven’t gotten too much out of it yet, but it does seem like he knew Alfred Middleton. That’s Charlie’s Grandfather, at least we think it is. There’s a passage in here that talks about the new recruits and how one of those new fellows had a young daughter that he was one day hoping to teach everything to. The time frame fits… and if it holds out, then Charlie’s grandfather and my grandfather Henry, might have been members of the Men of Letters together. Part of that group Mrs. Butters knew so well.”

 Ruby

Sipping my tea, I let him go on…as he does. As long as he’s focusing on something other than the Void, I’m a happy camper.

 Sam

I stop talking because I know that look on Ruby’s face. “Okay, I know that look…”

 RUBY

I make my face blank “What look?”

 Sam

I reach over and touch the tip of her nose with my index finger. “THAT one.”

“And No, I’m not just keeping busy with all of this stuff just to keep my mind off of things I’m not ready to talk about.” Looking at her, I know that I’ve nailed it again and I have to chuckle a little. “Okay, so maybe I am… But this stuff actually matters Ruby, and more than just to Charlie’s personal history story.

“There are brief mentions in this journal, just hints really, stating to the fact that there are as many as 5 Men of Letters Bunkers in the US. That doesn’t mean that they are all still standing, like ours or the one we’ve found in New Orleans, but what if they ARE?”

“Ruby, there might be other places out there full of the kinds of rare, magical items we’ve found in these two. That’s something that we just really need to know about. It’s like having unfound supernatural-nukes just lying around out there.”

 Ruby

NOW my interest is piqued! “How do we find where these other bunkers are or were?”

 Sam

The swift change in Ruby from couldn't care less to instantly on-board, actually makes me laugh out loud and immediately lightens the heaviness that I've been dragging around the last few days. “Careful Ruby, your demon-side is showing.”

 Ruby

Adopting an innocent expression, I smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about there Sam. I really AM interested in helping you and Charlie uncover the secrets surrounding these new Bunkers.”

Sam

“Uh huh…” Grinning now, I take the teacup out of her hand, take a drink, then lean down and set the cup on the floor. Moving towards her, I use my body to press her back against the sofa, covering her body and ending up nose to nose. All the notepads, folders and journals have fallen forgotten on the floor.

“Oh, is that what you’re interested in.”

 Ruby

“Of course, you know me.”

 Sam

Seeing the teasing light in Ruby’s eyes, I brush my lips over hers “I certainly do…” All further research is completely forgotten.

[whentherewerebicycles]

ok they said they would send me the prompt sometime today but did not specify when so i am still in PREPARE FOR ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING mode. i finished the first-gen programming book on the plane. there were a handful of very good case studies in there & a few ideas i would love to try implementing, but i feel like those edited collections with a million contributors are inevitably a little uneven and can get a bit repetitive by the end. on the whole though i’m glad i read it and i collected a handful of sources from the bibliography that i’m going to follow up on next.

one of the last case studies in the book was about career services and i found it really interesting... the writers were pointing out that university career services tend to focus a lot on the process of finding a job (resume and cover letter writing, navigating linkedin and job boards, interviewing, etc.) but most institutions don’t do a ton of work on teaching students career management skills - like, how to read a job posting to determine if it’s going to get you where you want to be, or how to proactively identify and develop specific skills in a role even if it’s not your dream job, or how to go back on the job market and find a better match for you if a job doesn’t seem to be aligned with your long-term goals, etc etc. i definitely notice this a lot in my first-gen kids who i do post-grad career support stuff with. like, the jobs they choose to apply to often confuse me because they don’t seem like a good fit for what the student is actually interested in doing, or they’ll stay in a job that isn’t a good fit for too long because they’re unsure about how to make the transition.

we did some work on this in my program -- i had this career trajectory mapping activity where they had to research organizations in their areas of interest, then find a high- or medium-ranking employee there in a leadership position they might interested in doing later in their careers, and then we had this in-class activity where we used people’s linked in profiles to trace their path from college to grad school (if relevant) through the early stages of their career. we made these big maps on the board where we wrote down the job titles the person had held, the way they described their responsibilities in each role, the amount of time they spent at each, the amount of time between promotions, and whether their experience was concentrated in one organization/program or not (and if they moved around if it was laterally within a company or to a new organization). we did a handful of these together in class and then as part of their research portfolios that semester they had to create more maps, one of which had to be for a person they’d set up an informational interview with (so they could use the map to ask more detailed questions about people’s trajectories and get insight into how professionals further along in their careers made decisions about what jobs to take, when to leave, etc.).

ANYWAY i think i could do a LOT more thinking/brainstorming around how to integrate those skills in managing your own career into different curricula... just something i’d be interested in returning to. ooh and also i learned about the National Association of Colleges and Employers’ Career Readiness Competencies which i think will be a useful framework if i need to talk about prof dev at any point during the visit.

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the working week although, for those of you working in the NHS, welcome to just another day.

Wow! That was another breathless weekend!

Many thanks to everyone that listened to the radio show live and to everyone that will listen to the show on MixCloud. The Letter N (Part Four) this Saturday at 1.00 p.m.

The weekend got off to a slow start as my son, having picked up The Mighty Josiah, struggled to get home. There was a fender-bender on the M1 that brought both carriageways to a standstill for more than an hour. There are TOO many cars on our roads and TOO many bad drivers!

On Saturday morning, I set off for Summer Soulstice and arrived at High Barnet tube station early. So, I thought, instead of waiting for the ‘Soul Bus’, I’d walk to the event. What I forgot was that I was in the bloody countryside and, as I got closer to the field, there was no pavement! I enjoyed a bracing walk, though, even at 11.00, it was bloody hot! The back of my T-shirt was soaked!

I’ve never been before but I’m so glad Jon Jules organised for me to do my radio show from Summer Soulstice. What a fantastic event! Naturally, we were helped by some marvellous weather; as noon passed, it just seemed to get hotter! There were FAR too many beautiful people there! I tried to grab selfies with as many people as possible and there were one or two popping their Lindsay selfie cherry! At one point, this devilish woman gave me a glass of rum punch. I know you’re not meant to drink alcohol live on air, but it smelt so nice, plus it was cold and wet! I needed something to lubricate my throat. I was drinking on an empty stomach so, when I played ‘Hip Hop Hooray’, my brain was literally going, “Hey! Ho! Hey! Ho!” I don’t know what the show sounded like but it was fun to do! In the middle of my show, these two gorgeous women arrived, told me they were part of an act called Soul Fusion Seven and that they were performing later. After my show, I caught their set, and it’s a very impressive set of seventies soul, disco and jazz-funk covers. I wanted to try something different for lunch (and to soak up the alcohol), so I opted for jollof rice and moi moi, which was very filling! I could feel the ‘itis’ coming on, so I kept moving. One of the best things about this event is that it’s a family-orientated soul music event, with lots of activities for the kids. You don’t know how tempted I was to jump on the bouncy castle! As well as the main stage and the Mi-Soul V.I.P. bar, there were two tents full of cool DJs. Really, something for everyone! Tons of the Mi-Soul boys were there because they’ve always played Summer Soulstice, so I hope we can continue to do live broadcasts from our little house.

I was on my train home when I got a phone call from Gordon wondering where I was. My beautiful friend Vivienne McKone had just finished her set and was looking for me! Vivienne: we will catch up soon!

I got home after 8.00 p.m. and, after a day in the sun, I could barely move. Thank God, my son had ordered pizza! I had just enough strength to post my photos!

The bedroom was too hot so, just after 4.00 a.m. I came downstairs to my favourite armchair. Josiah woke me up around 7.00, looking for his breakfast and, after toasting two waffles for him, I went back to sleep. I actually slept through until 10.00. I never do that.

On Sunday evening, we attended the birthday party of the amazingly talented, versatile and lovable Edward Adoo. Always nice to see Ed and his mum. In fact, no party is complete without Ed’s mum! Also, lovely to see my friend Joanna Abeyie, who always looks so glamourous. Ed’s dad played a blistering live set with his trio, which is a classy way to spend your Sunday afternoon.

Definitely need a day off! That ain’t happening! Seven hours of teaching today; wish me luck!

Have a marvellous and momentous Monday. I love you all.

[conspiracyofcartographers]

Little rant, please ignore, don’t reblog.

So, I have been diligently applying for jobs for, not an exaggeration, two and a half years. I spent five years working on a PhD because I thought that might help me with achieving my career goals. I poured my heart and soul into it, I wrote good papers, I published one of them, I took advantage of all the teaching opportunities available to me. I did the work, is what I'm saying. It has been very frustrating and humiliating to find that after all of that work, not only can I not get hired in my chosen field, it seems I can’t get hired AT ALL. 

I applied to well over 200 jobs, a few every week for, as I said, two and a half years. I wasn’t super picky, just tried to find things that I was interested in and were within my, not inconsiderable, skillset. Academic jobs, museum jobs (I did museum work before starting my PhD, so I actually have experience, I’m not just showing up with the “I have a PhD, I can do any job” attitude that people applying for alt-ac type jobs often get accused of having), clerical jobs, academic support jobs, policy and research jobs, part time, entry level. Whatever I could find that I thought I had about 80 percent of the asked for experience. I had a few things that I didn’t want: 1. I didn’t want to take a job that involved my husband and I keeping separate residences for a prolonged period (what is the point of getting married if I can’t live with my partner, what is the point of a job if I have to spend an excessive amount of my salary paying rent twice.) 2. No war crimes (I’m a military historian, I’m not going to go apply for a company supplying weapons to warlords in Africa). 3. Not the police (See number 2, war crimes abroad or war crimes at home, you use pepper spray on protesters and it’s a no from me, dog.) 4. No call centres (I have anxiety, and telephones are a major trigger, aside from these being terrible jobs generally, I'd have had a panic attack the first day). 5. I didn’t want the same job I had before I went and did my degree, I have more experience, so I want career progression. I think these are fairly reasonable asks.

Over the course of the past 30 months I have had a grand total of 3 interviews. A resounding indictment of the state of the job market and the lie of ‘transferrable skills’ put forward by academia, in my humble opinion.I asked the university for job support and followed their application advice. I have rewritten my CV 14 times, and tailored every single cover letter to the jobs I applied for, no boilerplate stuff, because obviously, if I wasn’t getting hired, it was my fault for just not saying the right magic words. The job incantation.

Friday of last week, I applied for a policy advisor job that was posted on LinkedIn, it involved posting my CV on a searchable interface. In the days since, I have been contacted by no less than 6 agencies begging me to work as a substitute secondary school teacher, no word from the policy position I ACTUALLY applied for. This is so fucking frustrating, because part-time teacher is the job I held immediately after graduating with my BA. I was an after-school art teacher/lunch lady, got paid shit, got treated like worse, and I fucking hated it. It’s been a decade and I have significantly more subject knowledge and experience now, and I DO NOT WANT TO WORK WITH CHILDREN. Or, more accurately, I don’t want to work with unhinged parents. 

I‘m tired y’all. I’m taking the job.

After all, it’s the only one I’ve been offered in over two years. But I am so fucking frustrated. I put in so much effort to try to develop a career and I am back at the same place I was ten years ago. Actually worse, because the pay isn’t even as good as what I got at 22. And more than that, this is a job that they’ll literally hire anyone with a pulse and no history of pedophilia. The industry is desperate after people left the profession over pressures from the pandemic. There are scheduled teacher strikes in the upcoming months (am I going to be used as a strike breaker? Because fuck that.). 

Anyway, I know that I can put this on my CV and take the pay check and fuck off when I find something better. But I am just so tired and frustrated and humiliated and disillusioned. Like, I know the world doesn't actually operate as a true meritocracy, but I did kind of believe that hard work and intelligence would result in *something*, slightly better pay than I earned with just a BA, at the very least.

And the agencies keep calling me, and sending me texts, and emails. I’ve taken my CV down already because like I said, I’m taking the job. But it feels at this point like I’m being hounded and bullied. “No one will hire you to do anything else!” “This is your only choice.” “We’ll keep calling until you give in.”

I know all of this makes me sound like an entitled bitch. But again, I also feel like I put in so. much. work. and I wanted it to be worth *something*.

Side dish of extra humiliation. My husband, who is also a PhD, applied for one (1) academic teaching position. He was rejected, but the job search committee sent him emails and called him to beg him to apply for another position they had just posted and which they thought he would be a better fit for. He got hired as a full time university lecturer TWO YEARS ago. He hasn’t even finished his PhD. Extra cherry on top, he hates his job and wants out. I would give my left arm to have the job he has. 

[kessielrg]

Umbra Humanis: You Deserve-

Summary: Surprise! Double Dark Queen! I could have finished this one a little earlier, but having Regina confirm Ebba's question felt like hitting a wall for some reason. This story may be its own mini series as I like the idea of exploring the up and downs of learning. (And also lends more time for world building, lol.) But we'll figure it out when we get there. And so, without further ado, in which a young princess proposes to teach a neglected maid how to read.

Rating: K

Word count: 1,262 words

---

The first thing Ebalyne noticed was that this portion of the castle hadn’t been used in awhile. Outfitted in bright wall colors and silly paintings on the walls, she at first assumed that it was a playroom. Her highness, Princess Regina made a face of disgust.

“I always hated this room,” she said in a hiss. “It’s too loud for a place of learning. I’d still prefer to do my work in my room.”

“Loud?” Ebalyne repeated- her voice filled with inquiry. “How can a room be loud when no one else is here?”

Regina never answered her. Instead the princess walked over to a rather long desk and started to rifle through its drawers. She let out a rather surprised ‘ah!’ when she came across the very thing she was looking for. Ebalyne watched as Regina pulled out a small leather bound book.

“What’s that?” the younger girl questioned. Despite looking rather dusty, the book seemed to be in pretty decent condition.

“It’s a learning primer.” Regina told her. It was with some prudence that she brushed away the dust from the cover. “For reading in particular.”

“Reading?”

Regina looked up at Ebalyne as if she had spoken some sort of slander instead of a simple question.

“Of course.” Regina spat. “As I am a princess with a potential line for the throne, I was taught to read and write the moment I came out of my mother. Children born to castle staff are obligated to learning the same once they reach 5 years. For whatever reason, you did not get this treatment, so I am correcting it.”

Not for the last time, Ebalyne was at a loss for what the princess was proposing. It was no surprise that she had been neglected, that much was never in doubt. Ebalyne had not been expected to exist. Her parents were unknown to her and none would claim her as their own. The most anyone knew was that she had been born to one -or two- of castle staff though. From a young age, Ebalyne found that her presence wasn’t needed, so she remained invisible in order to keep what little home life she knew.

“But your highness,” Ebalyne carefully thought out, “You have other duties than teaching a maid to read.”

“Don’t worry- I’ll introduce the concept of it slowly.” Regina insisted- perhaps purposely ignoring Ebalyne’s bewilderment. “We’ll start with the letters in your name.”

“But there’s so many.” the younger girl marveled. After a moment or two more, she added in a small voice, “I think.”

“Seven letters.” Regina informed her. “With only one repeating letter.”

Ebalyne shrunk a little. “Oh…”

“But I’m not going to make you do that either. We’re going to give you a nickname- a name shorter than your real one to make things easier.”

“Like… a baptism name?”

Regina blinked. It was in bewildered thought that she realized that Ebalyne really wasn’t as dumb as the other handmaidens made her out to be. A little slow, perhaps, but certainly not failing to grasp basic instructions. There were heralds she knew who were less intelligent than a talking parrot.

“I… guess you could say that.” she carefully agreed, even holding the primer a bit closer. She soon stood straight again. “So? Which nickname would you prefer? I don’t have a blessed clue on what you’d like to be called.”

Ebalyne thought this over for a rather long time. If she were to begin anew, it made sense that she’d have a new name. But at the same time, she rather liked her name. It was pretty and unique. Her time in thought was mostly spent on what part of her name she liked the most. She would just make her favorite part her nickname!

“Ebba.” Ebalyne decided. “I want to be nicknamed Ebba.”

Regina gave the maid a nod. She stepped a bit closer and, in resembling her father a little when he knighted a brave fighter, the princess declared, “By the power invested in me as princess of this country, beside the instructional guide of,” (she quickly moved her primer to see who authored it) “Madame Angelique Carter, dear Ebalyne of Castle Venuschade, you shall henceforth be known as Ebba. A name of which is far easier to write and worthy of a budding student. May you grow into your new title as your ability to read the world around you grows as well.”

It was probably this moment when Ebalyne realized just what the princess was doing for her. This wasn’t going to be easy. It was viable to last several days, if not years, before Ebalyne would be able to read fluently. (If she ever did, but she didn’t like thinking like that.) And the most important factor was the princess herself. She would have meetings and balls and other princess things to do. The idea that she would set all that aside to teach someone ignored to read? Ebalyne couldn’t help it, but tears started to form in her eyes.

Her tight hug also wasn’t expected. Regina visibly tensed as the younger girl cried and clung on to her. Mechanically, Regina awkwardly moved her arm to pat the top of Ebalyne’s head.

“You really need to save those tears,” she said in a gruff voice, “Things are only going to get more frustrating once we start.”

Ebalyne shook her head. She moved out of their hug to look the princess in the eye. There was a passing thought of realizing how pretty Regina was, but it was ignored for something more pressing.

“I’m not frustrated.” Ebalyne told Regina- almost appalled at the idea. “I’m actually really happy! But…”

“No buts.” Regina cut her off. “You spent the entirety of your life so far being ignored by everyone. You learned to be invisible and probably know this castle better than anyone. When time came to it, you put your neck out to save others instead of remaining in the shadows. You deserve to read. You deserve to be attended to. You deserve-”

“A friend?”

The word hung in the air between them. Neither really had any discernible emotion written onto their face either. The concept was foreign for Ebalyne, and after nearly being killed in her own home, Regina -quite frankly- had a hard time trusting anyone now. The word ‘friend’ was not a term she’d use lightly anymore. It was around this point when Regina realized the weight of what she planned to do as well. Ebalyne had saved her and, in a time when she couldn’t tell if she could trust anyone, she was going to take a blind chance on Ebalyne anyway.

“Yes.” the princess found herself agreeing. “You deserve a friend.”

Ebalyne’s vision blurred before she realized she was crying. She buried her face into the princess’s shoulder, clinging to her velvet dress with all the desperation of a drowning man.

“Thank you.” she wept. “I’m sorry for… for getting your dress… dress wet, but… but…”

The girl never finished her sentence. Her tears of joy and the sniffles that joined them were the only sounds in the room. Regina didn’t mind. Not enough to make a scene of it, at least. Instead she moved the primer out of the way so it wouldn’t get soaked, and carefully started to stroke Ebalyne’s head. If anything, the princess let out a soft snort.

“We can start learning tomorrow, Ebba.” Regina mused. “I think we all need time to process the graves we’ve dug ourselves into.”

Ebalyne happily clung tighter in agreement.

[erikcocks]

Is Dylan Miller and his Tube Money Masterclass a Scam?

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Is Dylan Miller an actual online guru valued educator or is he a scam artist? Let’s Dig In!

Dylan Miller is an influencer and mentor to millions of people, but is Dylan Miller Legit or is he a scam? 

Everyone by now has heard the stories of people becoming rich, wealthy and very successful online working from home. But are they true? And how about digital course creators, and YouTube wizards? Are they legit? 

Are people like Dylan Miller for real, or are they a scam?

Dylan Miller says he can show you how you can make money online and work from home, and how there is a huge opportunity to make money online and work for yourself.  We’ve heard that before right?

Dylan’s “Tube Money Masterclass” is a course that teaches the ins and outs of YouTube “Automation” and creating a “cash cow” YouTube channel, and how to start a profitable channel on YouTube without making the videos yourself.

I’m a video evangelist for pretty much everything, from clients to affiliates, so I really wanted to see if he lived up to the hype. He makes claims about being able to make a living with YouTube videos.

The first thing that hit me was that this was a guy who actually was making money with doing what he is teaching. I was able to find double digits of sites he built that are what are known as “cash cow” sites. They give fun or cool information but don’t require you to be the on-camera personality. They had millions of views and based on my YouTube math, he is making real money with these.

He promises to teach you how to build an actual business with YouTube.

Ok, Ok, everyone says that. So is it real?

Well, I’m a big believer in having multiple sources of income so I actually bought the course.

Immediately, I could tell three things about the Tube Money Masterclass. First Dylan Miller was a legit earner on YouTube. He actually did care about his members with the sheer amount of information he was giving for the small(ish) investment, and that this was a true community.

On the community front claim, I’ve bought too many courses to admit to and been in more private Facebook groups than I care to count, and this one was a legit community.

First Dylan does an incredible job of helping with mindset, as many of us looking at courses have tried, and tried, and tried other ways of making money. So did he. He really helps set you up with overcoming a lack of support and even haters.

Then he gets into making money with YouTube. He covers setup, production, and monetizing your channel properly. I was impressed with the detail and virtual hand-holding he gives.

I’ve been doing videos a long time for YouTube for clients and understand how YouTube ranks and does what they do. If you follow his teaching to the letter, there is no reason you could not be making 4-5 figures a month with a channel in a realistic time frame.

I’d go into detail about what the actual process is and how everything works, but he actually has a free training on what the Tube Money Masterclass is about. The video talks about the program but also gives you some great insight if you’ve been struggling to make money online (we’ve all been there, right?!)

Watch Dylan’s Video Here

Watch the video that Dylan actually hosts and walks you through exactly what the program is and what the foundation of YouTube cash cow videos are.

Verdict: Dylan Miller and the Tube Money Masterclass are not only legit, I bought the course using my own money and am going to implement his teachings to build another revenue stream for myself!

#DylanMiller

#DylanMillerReview

#DylanMillerScam

#TubeMoneyMasterclass

#TubeMoneyMasterclassReview

#TubeMoneyMasterclassScam

Originally published here: https://erikcocks.com/is-dylan-miller-and-his-tube-money-masterclass-a-scam/