Listen. This is a terrible outlook on your work-life choices.
Your job and ultimately your career are important choices that should not be dictated by woo-woo bullshit like a “calling”. Should you have an affinity for what you do? Sure, yeah, whatever. At the end the day, though? Your job and career are about providing for yourself and your dependents. Your “personal values” are not lesser just because you took a job that gives you food security and lets you live in a nicer part of town.
The system is designed to take advantage of people who buy into this having a “calling” bullshit. They’ll eat you alive if you think like that. They’ll pay you $36k/year to work 50 hours a week and still expect more from you. They won’t give you any professional development or training and then they’ll force you to retire early because you can’t keep up with the new, even cheaper hires. And at the end the day, they’ll make sure you’re still saying that old line, “Oh yeah, the pay is terrible, but it’s so rewarding.”
And don’t forget that it’s almost always women who are encouraged into these rewarding jobs for shit pay. Pink-collar jobs are full of professions that have been re-packaged to sell as “callings” instead of bona fide careers: teachers, librarians, nurses, etc. Highly educated women talked into taking bad jobs with worse pay because it’s their calling.
I could go on.
What I really want to do though is encourage you to always think of your career as your career. It is quite literally the thing that keeps you clothed, fed and housed. Career is not a dirty word! 👀 You career should not be dictated by what job gives you the moral high ground or the fuzziest feelings; it should be dictated by the what job gives you the best compensation* for your skills. (*Compensation here does not always equal pure salary, of course.)
“Hi! I love your writing, your amazing❤would I be able to request living in an apartment together headcannons for Jonathan please?❤”
• Sharing an apartment with this boy is a dream!! He is just so helpful, he cooks, he cleans, he tells you how nice you look.
• Expect visits, from Joyce, Will, Dustin, Lucas, Mike and El. They are basically all your family now.
• Times get tough with money but the two of you handle it in a healthy way. You don’t fight eachother and you don’t get abusive. Why? Because neither of you are dumb asses and you know how to handle yourselves in a mature way
• MOVIE NIGHTS!!!
• He likes scary movies the most because you cuddle up to him more
• Pants are only necessary when visitors come
• Living with him might give you the chance to fix his sleep schedule
Saying you’re a Christian doesn’t mean people or the world owes you love. We don’t give our lives to Jesus because we don’t have any value and we’re in need of love and grace. We’re Christians because we’ve recognized that our value comes from Christ, who empowers change for us to live like we’ve never lived before and loving others is the byproduct of knowing Him, not a sacrifice because people fail you. Loving is a privilege because you’ve been changed by grace, not because you’re not like everybody else.
So i decided to cosplay Sniper!Lance instead of generic 100% cannon Lance since I’m…really weak for the sniper lance thing. So I decided to design the gun! I’m probably gonna stick with this design unless you guys have feedback ;v; (which i would love to hear omg…..) I probably won’t be making this until the end of october tbh.
!!!Giveaway is closed, thanks for you’re interest!!!
To celebrate Seventeen’s 2 year anniversary and their comeback I decided to give away 2 albums.
What are we giving away?
I’ll be giving away 2 of the new albums (Al1)
with the cover of your choice. So, there’s 2 winners. I can’t promise that posters will be available by the time the winner is announced, but if they are they’ll be included.
Rules to enter:
1. Must be following
fyeahthe8, because this give away is for our followers. Checking out my personal blog is optional but very much appreciated.
2. Like and Reblog
this post with the reason why you want to win the album and the
country where you’re from. So,
when reblogging add your reason and country underneath the post. I won’t read tags.
3. Have your ask box open, so I can contact
4. No giveaway blogs, I’ll check.
If you don’t fulfil rules above your entry won’t count.
When will I choose to announce the winners?
Let’s say I choose the
winners on the 11th of June. I’ll message the winners first and give them 24hrs to reply. If there’s no reply within 24hrs I’ll
choose a different winner.
** If you have any
questions don’t hesitate and message us. **The winner will of course be choosen randomly
The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time.
It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.
The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”
Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—
(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)
Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.
It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)
Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”
Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.
She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid.
It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips.
She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.