#and like everyone has had to listen to me and my woes today

[singlethread]

I just feel like all I do is make everything harder for all the people in my life

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟑   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   NAKAWE, 2023

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  Karolina Teague was hardly famous. Her name carried a certain heft among culture critics whose heyday had passed, but she liked the anonymity that came with being washed up. All of her favorite people were has-beens, after all, and she wasn’t ashamed to spend her time reminiscing about days past with them or anyone else who would listen. Today, she welcomed a whole crew of listeners into her Nakawe home—a film crew to be exact, led by a director-producer duo who had known her name well before a previous interviewee mentioned it to them. She wouldn’t be the star of their documentary, but they believed from its inception that the story wouldn’t be complete without her thoughts.

❧ honestly very proud of the scrapbooking !!!! this is basically just shameless exposition, but i am convinced i picked a creative vehicle for it :^) i watched that 90s docuseries on hulu a year ago and this specific story post was born fjdhjf anyway, canonically, no one would be writing or printing in script like that but i am simply NOT that committed to my worldbuilding sdkjfsf consider this whole thing an english language reimagining (^:

𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Karolina took them on a tour of her colorful seaside house, one concluding in a room already set up for their perusal. It was the archive, she explained. This was what they came for; her recollections were valuable, but she had so much more than her own memories. Photographs waited on the tables, and an old television screen teased some scene from exclusive VHS tapes. Karolina plopped down onto a sofa and gestured widely, saying, “Have a look. I’m ready when you are.” 

The director, a woman named Ildaria, picked up a photograph. 

“Can you tell us about her?” 

Karolina beckoned for the photo, and Ildaria walked over to hand it to her. For a moment, she peered at it, keeping everyone in suspense. Finally, she replied, “Sure. What’s she going to do, sue me?”

“Maybe,” a cameraman elsewhere in the room snorted.

“I’ll take the risk,” Karolina laughed. “Look, I don’t know Princess Leonor, but I met her plenty of times. She was at The Den at least half the nights in 1991, for sure. Probably into 1992, but I didn’t really keep track of her comings and goings. Definitely not after 1993.”

The producer, Eilo, held up another photograph. “What’s the story here?” he asked.

Karolina reached for it. Unlike the other photo, this one was a proper candid. There were several people in the frame, but Leonor was at the center, kneeling by a table with her hand draped across Renzo’s thigh as he held her head in his palm and said something beyond the capture of still photography.

“It wasn’t anything formal,” Karolina explained. “Renzo didn’t date anyone in those days, and I don’t think she did either. They liked each other. It was mutual fascination with zero understanding, is how I saw it. They hung out—liked each other’s company. Hot and fast, burned out quick, that’s what it looked like.” She shrugged. “That was Renzo.” 

“And Leonor?” Ildaria asked, having sat down nearby. 

“Like I said,” Karolina began. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I didn't know her. Seemed like a cool girl. I’m older, mind you. I think she wanted to get a little wild and try new things—this is off the record—and The Den was for her what it was for everyone. You could kick your shoes off. Scream along to your buddy’s new song, have a movie star tell you his woes while he pours your drink, get high in the dressing room and probably be fine—” 

“Did she do that?” Ildaria’s eyes were wide.

Karolina cleared her throat. “No, of course not. Not everyone did! Enough, sure. We all know the quote-unquote horror stories.”

The crew listened, rapt, having stopped flipping through albums and poking around the bookcases, eager to hear something explosive. They had set out to make a documentary about a particular time and place. The Den at the turn of the century was their subject. That glorious decade solidified its place in celebrity culture, to say nothing of its place in music history. The princess was just a footnote in that story. Nonetheless, it was a tantalizing footnote. Most people below a certain age were shocked to hear that she hadn’t been a humorless, buttoned-up bureaucrat her entire life. The idea that someone whose day job involved keeping the country afloat may have once been young and reckless intrigued. That she was adjacent to the salacious stories of sex, drugs, and rock and roll they knew better nearly crossed the line into unbelievable. Yet, people in Uspana also knew their royals had been wrapped up in the glamor of celebrity for decades. Even now, they continued to rub elbows with rock stars, including the one elder princess who was herself a music star. 

“She’s a different person now, clearly,” Karolina continued. She spoke tentatively still but nonetheless addressed what everyone wanted to know. “But, for a time, she was at The Den with everyone else, drinking too much and carrying around a pharmacy in whatever cute purse you had that night. You may remember there was a big Reyes death around then. It’s like—when my mother died in 2009, I lost my shit, too.” 

Karolina shrugged again. “She was having fun. I was doing worse, alright, so I only feel judgmental about it insofar as she’d probably be embarrassed if you asked her about any of it today. Royals are supposed to do their sniffing in private, right, not in a bathroom Renzo forgot to hire someone to clean. She was snobby, but my sense was that she liked pretending she wasn’t—roleplay, you know, transgressing or whatever.” 

Someone coughed. The rifling through materials resumed. Ildaria and Eilo shared a look. 

“You haven’t talked to her since ‘92?” Ildaria asked. Eilo, meanwhile, had pulled out his cell phone and was typing with fast fingers. 

Karolina shook her head. “So, she knew I’d asked Renzo to let me collect photos and bring along my Zenith. I got a weird email in 2000 inquiring about them from someone who worked for her.” She grinned, then added as an aside, “Only one recording, by the way. The Den had a strict no video policy.”

“We’d like to see them sometime,” Ildaria responded. 

Karolina nodded, then shook her head and clarified, “Which—my tapes or the email?” 

Eilo answered without looking up, “Both.”

He finished what he was doing after a moment of quiet, then held his phone up for Ildaria and Karolina to see. “Seems like she’s still in touch with people,” he said.

They leaned forward to view the screen while he swiped at it, then Karolina laughed.  “Okay, maybe she just didn’t like me!”  

While they watched, Eilo moved through a hastily thrown together slideshow of the princess with various people Karolina knew well. Some looked like event photos. Others were captured with long lenses—paparazzi shots that made money but didn’t always generate enough interest if the other person was a comparative nobody. Not everyone had evolved in the last thirty years. Plenty of people who visited the bar during the decade of Renzo’s ownership continued to have flourishing careers. They were, at the time, young and beautiful and painfully unprepared for the lifetime of celebrity ahead of them. That’s what they brought to this place more than anything: their pain, which, being creative types, they eagerly spun into something beautiful and private. 

That’s what The Den gave them. These impossibly talented, dedicated stars created fleeting things for each other and no one else. Bands and dance troupes formed. An endless stream of songs and poetry and performance art kept the bar’s little stage occupied nightly for years. Offstage, people with no reason to meet in the real world bonded in this space of both contrived and undeniable intimacy. For some, the reprieve helped them endure the difficulty of becoming that invariably attended a rise in fame. It was detrimental to others. These were the ones who didn’t evolve—people who gave up their relevance to live forever in this meaningless, generative privacy or people who couldn’t make the choice and lost everything in the process. 

Karolina hadn’t evolved, but she hadn’t died or wanted to die either. From her perspective, what people like the princess and even Renzo himself had done wasn’t evolution. It was more like a revelation. People don’t change, she would tell Eilo and Ildaria later, over dinner, when the conversation had moved far away from the royal footnote. She believed people just uncover deeper truths about themselves, knowingly or unknowingly, and those became harder to conceal once they were exposed.

Have you felt that way before? she asked them. Exposed, like when you break your leg so hard the bone snaps right through your skin? They had. The conversation detoured to childhood misadventures, but Karolina had a point to make. She pulled them back. Some people get comfortable with that feeling and learn how to live in it. Other people, you know, they deny and lie and call it growth. That’s my opinion. I’ve seen it—artists are the worst for it, I swear. Artists who don’t want to be artists anymore? Worse than that. 

Can I say you sound bitter? Ildaria laughed. 

Now, Karolina threw her hands up. She exclaimed, joyful, That’s my truth, baby! I took too many bites of the world, and I’ve been disgusted by it ever since. Some people come out of their mamas malcontent.

Later that night, Eilo was exhausted, but Ildaria’s hand hovered over the light switch with uncertainty. She heaved a big, put-upon sigh, then asked, “Is it bad that I want to give Mencia Cipac a call?”

“Give her a call?” Eilo snorted. “Sure, Mencia Cipac, whose number you totally have, definitely won’t ignore your calls because she, for sure, knows who you are and has endless free time to spare.” He sat up straighter, then added, “No more overloading on projects. You promised. Besides, you don’t wanna poke that bear.”

“Not a bear,” Ildaria retorted. “A jaguar. Roar!”

TRANSCRIPT:

KAROLINA | Have a look. I'm ready when you are.

RENZO (O.S.) | Get that thing out of here, Karolina!

ILDARIA | Can you tell us about her?

KAROLINA | Sure. What's she going to do, sue me? CAMERAMAN | Maybe.

KAROLINA | I'll take the risk.

KAROLINA | Look, I don’t know Princess Leonor, but I met her plenty of times. She was at The Den at least half the nights in 1991, for sure. Probably into 1992, but I didn’t really keep track of her comings and goings. Definitely not after 1993

EILO | What's the story here?

KAROLINA | It wasn't anything formal.

KAROLINA | Renzo didn’t date anyone in those days, and I don’t think she did either. They liked each other. It was mutual fascination with zero understanding, is how I saw it. They hung out—liked each other’s company. Hot and fast, burned out quick, that’s what it looked like. That was Renzo.

ILDARIA | And Leonor?

KAROLINA | Like I said, I didn't know her. Seemed like a cool girl. I’m older, mind you. I think she wanted to get a little wild and try new things—this is off the record—and The Den was for her what it was for everyone. You could kick your shoes off. Scream along to your buddy’s new song, have a movie star tell you his woes while he pours your drink, get high in the dressing room and probably be fine—

ILDARIA | Did she do that?

KAROLINA | No, of course not. Not everyone did! Enough, sure. We all know the quote-unquote horror stories.

KAROLINA | She's a different person now, clearly. But, for a time, she was at The Den with everyone else, drinking too much and carrying around a pharmacy in whatever cute purse you had that night. You may remember there was a big Reyes death around then. It’s like—when my mother died in 2009, I lost my shit, too.

KAROLINA | She was having fun. I was doing worse, alright, so I only feel judgmental about it insofar as she’d probably be embarrassed if you asked her about any of it today. Royals are supposed to do their sniffing in private, right, not in a bathroom Renzo forgot to hire someone to clean. She was always a snob, but I my sense was that she liked pretending she wasn’t—roleplay, you know, transgressing or whatever.

ILDARIA | You haven't talked to her since '92?

KAROLINA | So, she knew I’d asked Renzo to let me collect photos and bring along my Zenith. I got a weird email in 2000 inquiring about them from someone who worked for her. Only one recording, by the way. The Den had a strict no video policy.

ILDARIA | We'd like to see them sometime.

KAROLINA | Which—my tapes or the email?

EILO | Both.

EILO | Seems like she's still in touch with people. KAROLINA | Okay, maybe she just didn’t like me!

ILDARIA | Is it bad that I want to give Mencia Cipac a call?

EILO | Give her a call?

EILO | Sure, Mencia Cipac, whose number you totally have, definitely won’t ignore your calls because she, for sure, knows who you are and has endless free time to spare.

EILO | No more overloading on projects. You promised. Besides, you don’t wanna poke that bear.

ILDARIA | Not a bear. A jaguar. Roar!

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING ENTERTAINMENT/FEDERATION MAGAZINE: DECEMBER 1992

NOTHING LEFT

MACHO MAN HAD ONE THING LEFT–AND RAZOR TOOK IT

[IF IT WEREN'T FOR RAZOR’S INTERFERENCE IN SAVAGE’S TITLE MATCH WITH FLAIR, RANDY WOULD STILL BE CHAMPION TODAY.]

For Macho Man Randy Savage, the WWF Championship was the last thing in his life that he could hold dear. And, after he held on to it in a brutal contest against the Ultimate Warrior at SummerSlam, he lost it to Ric Flair, courtesy of Razor Ramon. The Razor Man got involved and cost Savage the belt. 

Why did Razor do it?Most likely, he did it to provoke confrontation with Savage in the hope that a victory over Macho Man could propel him higher in the ranks of the WWF–as assuredly it would. 

Maybe Razor did it out of vindictiveness. Razor Ramon wants everything. Savage had something he didn’t have–the title. So perhaps Razor couldn’t handle it. 

Either way, Razor Ramon has helped strip Randy Savage of something terribly precious. “Razor Ramon,” says Savage “you did something to me I can never forget. Oh yeaah, never. And, Ramon, I’ll never forgive you, either. You got into my life, Razor Ramon, and you got in my way. Now Ric Flair has the belt. I’ve got nothing–nothing to lose, nothing to live for except. Razor Ramon, to smash you into little, bitty, greasy tiny pieces. 

There’s nothing left for me, Razor Ramon. I’m a man out of control.”

[WHEN RAZOR HELPED FLAIR TAKE THE BELT FROM THE MACHO MAN, THE CUBAN STEPPED OVER THE LINE. THE BELT WAS THE ONLY THING THAT RANDY HAD IN HIS LIFE. HE CHERISHED THE TITLE. SINCE HIS LOSS, SAVAGE HAS BEEN A MAN POSSESSED. HE WANTS TO RIP RAZOR INTO PIECES.]

Savage isn’t kidding. Lately he has been wrestling as if he does not give a hoot about life and limb. Not that he ever really did. He has always wrestled with abandon, but now it’s different. He is a wild man. He acts as if he cares for nothing but a fight. He throws around his muscular body as if it were a weapon. Savage is on a tear Woe to those who oppose him!

Randy Savage pounds his opponents with a vengeance. He is all fighting fury. Anybody who has been in the ring with Savage in recent days will tell you that it’s like running into a human buzz saw. Nobody who has opposed him has escaped a severe battering and bruising–and their bodies show it. 

“I’ve never seen him so furious,” says a close wrestling associate, who didn’t want his name mentioned for fear of arousing Savage’s wrath.

Indeed, Savage’s friends and associates say they tread lightly when they are around him. “You don’t want to say something that will trigger him off,” says the aforementioned wrestling associate. “And one thing’s certain: You don’t mention Razor Ramon. Do that, and Randy’s liable to put his fist through the nearest object. Which might well be you.”

Razor is mocking Savage’s rage. “Hey, Chico Savage,” says Razor. “What’za matter, man? You mad about somethin’? You lose somethin’ you cared about a lot? Is that what happen? Ain’t got your belt no more? That’s what’za matter with you. And here you go and blame Razor Ramon for all your troubles. Well, Razor, he don’t care what you think and who you blame. All he care about is to cut you up good, beat you up bad and leave you lying in the gutter for the stray dogs.

“You see, Savage,” Razor continues, “I don’t like you from the first time I see you, then I hear you call yourself ‘Macho Man’ I spit on you. I am the one in the WWF with machismo. Not you. So now I gonna prove somethin’ you piece of trash. I gonna show you all about machismo. You gonna crawl in front of me and beg me not to beat up on you anymore. And you know what? I not gonna listen to you. I gonna beat you until I get tired out. And everyone knows it takes me a long time to get tired.”

Granted, Ramon has a big mouth, but he has the muscle and size to back it up. He’s a burly brute, naturally powerful and big as a house. Besides that, he’s one mean character. He can wrestle, but he’s also a vicious gutter fighter. People in his Miami neighborhood cross the street when he swaggers down the sidewalk, gold chains clanking. Speaking of gold chains, the world around Miami chain snatchers is there’s one guy you don’t try it on. Of course that guy is Razor Ramon. A while back, some fool snatched one of Razor’s chains. Razor caught him, dragged him into an alley and turned him into a grease spot on the concrete. 

Razor is not the kind of person with whom one can get reckless, but that is exactly the way Randy Savage is right now. His friends worry that Savage will be so out of control when he enters the squared circle with Razor that Ramon will cooly rip him apart. Savage needs to keep his head on his shoulders or Razor Ramon could well take it off.

[thegreenhordes]

Pristine Journal - Mother's Woes

First Entry: I bought this journal for my alchemy recipes, poisons and potions and poultices. I have so many now that organizing them is simply a must. But to my delight, my sons bought me a proper recipe book in the upper city market just this morning! I know we have the coin to spare, but I've always tried to be frugal in my personal purchases. I don't dare say no to such sweet gifts from my boys, however! Eclipse told me it was my little Penumbra who suggested the recipe book as a gift, my sweet boy. My eldest has always been the more resilient and steadfast, but Penumbra is so very observant and curious. I hope he never loses that spark. I decided to use this journal to write as I please. Life updates, reminders, perhaps planning a soiree or two? My dear husband does love a good opportunity to show off his wealth to the common ponies. Pomp that he is, but I love him so. Third Entry: Reminder: I need more Amaranth and Dulcinea flowers. I appear to be running low on Baslisk venom- I'll need to go through all the hoops and red ribbon to get more of that imported, but staying stocked up on my reagents and ingredients is always worth it. And don't forget! Eclipse has training with Captain Freefall tomorrow. I'll need to wake him up early if he's going to be able to drag himself out of bed and to the training grounds. Eighth Entry: Penumbra scared me out of my wits today! Always so quiet, that foal, but his father finds it impressive so I won't discourage too much. I was in my nook preparing ingredients I needed for a potion- Eclipse has a bit of a cold, and my remedy will fix him right up!- I turned around to look for the cave mint and found myself looking down into the eyes of my youngest. I nearly jumped out of my hide! I ask him what he needs and he just asks to watch me work. It wasn't anything dangerous today so a I allowed it, but Moon and Stars, that gave me quite the fright! I did break one of my flasks, an old one I hadn't used in a while- the label was muddled so I couldn't read what it was. I had my boy sit on the opposite side of me to keep him away from it while I cleaned. other than that, the day was relatively peaceful. Eleventh Entry: I have a bit of a fever today, and I'm feeling dizzy. perhaps I caught Eclipse's cold. Regardless, I'm staying in bed today. Thirteenth Entry: I'm still feeling a bit woozy, but otherwise fine. Next week is Penumbra's birthday, and I wanted to get some things planned. I can't believe he's going to be ten! My sweet boy. To Do: - Pick up decorations from the craftspony I hired three months ago. - Order a cake from the baker- simple decorations, not too heavy on the frosting, Penumbra doesn't like things that are too sweet. - Pick up the gift I commissioned and finish wrapping the gifts my love and I made together. - Double check the guest list to see if there will be any last minute adjustments to seating. - Start preparing the ballroom for the event! Less hasty work later if we start now. Twenty-First Entry: I don't know what happened. I just.. Collapsed. One moment we were all singing and dancing, my little boy giggling as his older brother shoves cake in his mouth. The next, everything went black. I woke up an hour ago and have been trying to piece together what happened but nothing comes to me. My love says it was sudden and that everyone was concerned. The boys were scared, as was he. It was strange... While I strained my ears to listen to my husband, I just kept thinking about how good he smells. Final Entry: Reminder: Ask the physician why my teeth look like that. [The rest of the Journal is Empty.]

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

wip ask game uhhhhhhh "light" for the word !!!

Eyes flick towards him, but Peet doesn’t stare back. Instead, he focuses on his feet, which are covered in socks, and the socks are very dirty, and there are holes in them, and he really should not be wearing them at all! They are rotten!

“Step on sticks, never cracks,” Peet hums, lifting his rotten-socked feet in exaggerated, almost dance-like ways as he moves around a light pole. “Steps on stacks, never cricks, never bones, small bones.”

He had eaten a diggle earlier today. Diggles have very small, very thin bones, you see, and he more often than not accidentally crunches one while devouring their meat. Messy business. Messy business, it is. So many tiny bones.

“Tiny bones!” Peet exclaims, standing on one leg and gesturing grandly into the township. He casts his eyes onto the shoes of everyone who walks or stands nearby; mostly boots, mostly dark, mostly worn and tattered and poor and none of them wear only socks. “They get teeth in your stuck—st-stuck in your teeth! Stay away! Never step!”

The people around him are speaking. Murmuring. He catches glimpses, and they make something trapped inside his chest flutter around like a sad bird.

~~~

They dance for a long time, bathed in moonlight, staining their shoes with dirt, and after a time, they find that their feet fall into a rhythm, moving to a music all their own. Their bodies are quick to follow. Their hearts, even quicker.

~~~

There’s another stoplight, and Niki eases into the brakes. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel. It’s pitch-dark outside, Wilbur’s passed-out-drunk beside her, Niki has no one to help her, and she doesn’t know what to do.

~~~

A car rumbles past. Wilbur lifts his head to watch it go.

“You reckon I could make it in the big life?”

Wilbur doesn’t look away from the road. “The big life?”

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, slapping his sneakers onto the ground as he steps. “The big life. Y’know, singers and celebrities and all that crap.”

“Oh, please no.”

“What? I reckon I could make do!”

“You would be eaten alive.”

Tommy moves into a resentful silence, but only for a moment. As another car passes, he adds, “I don’t think I’d be eaten alive. I don’t think the like… industries are filled with cannibals.”

“Mm. You’d be surprised.” Wilbur’s smile is tight.

Tommy scowls at him. “Like you’d even know. The most you’ve ever gotten is a few views on a crappy youtube video.”

Wilbur finally turns from the road, glancing at his friend. The sun is unbearably bright today, casting its blinding light onto everything, including Tommy. Wilbur blinks and stares ahead.

He doesn’t even remember why he and Tommy are here, in this city, on this sidewalk. They’re walking down it and he doesn’t know why.

“If you put them up on spotify then you might get a little more attention.” Tommy is speaking. He’s speaking, and Wilbur has not been listening. “But no, you go, ‘oh, I was born in the nineties which means youtube is the only option for my depressing music career, woe is me!’ It’s invigorating, Wil.”

“Invigorating? You mean infuriating.”

“Whichever one means that it grates on my nerves.”

“That’ll be infuriating, then.”

“Alright. I’m real infuriated by you and your old-school tendencies.”

Wilbur huffs.

It’s quiet between them, thick with the rapid thoughts of someone trying to figure out what to say.

[colby-jac-cheese]

DO YOU SEE THIS CAT?!

I WAS WARNED ABOUT THIS CAT WHEN I MOVED IN WITH MY SIBLINGS 3 YEARS AGO! SHE IS F A T

SHE WAS NOT ALWAYS FAT!

According to my sister, when she and 2 of our other siblings first started college, she was still skinny! But! They moved from our dad's house, to an apartment! So she could no longer be an outside cat!

On top of that! All three of my siblings had VERY different schedules! One worked morning shift, so they were awake early morning and went to bed early evening! One was a full time college student! So they had afternoon classes, and woke up around 9 or 10 am to walk to class! Awake late morning to late evening but not obserdly late. The LAST!!! WORKED NIGHT SHIFT!!! they woke up mid-afternoon ish, and went to bed super early technically morning!

Which means!!! There were several hours when people came home/woke up where everyone else was unavailable!

Do you see where this is going???

THIS FAT FUCKING CAT WOULD PLAY UP 'woe is me. . . No one has feed me ever . . . I'm so hungry. . . .' EVERY FEW HOURS!!! WHEN ONLY ONE PERSON AT A TIME WAS AROUND!!! MEANING THIS ONE LAZY INDOOR CAT WAS BEING FED ALMOST 6 TIMES A DAY!!! And then one day they all looked at her and she was like this!

Cut to me moving in

I was warned of this! Three years ago!!! They told me 'hey! Fatass is very smart! She will gaslight you into thinking she's starving. Don't believe her!'

I thought, foolishly, 'that's fine! I'm smart! I've owned 4 Cats myself! Surely I'll be fine!'

W R O N G.

For several days, without fail, every other month! She manages to bamboozle me into feeding her!

The latest plot was uncovered today, and it is BY FAR her most insidious!

Imagine with me, if you will!

Be me: the baby of the house! Youngest sibling currently living under this roof! My operating hours are roughly 5 pm, to 6 am. Fat cat knows that she gets fed TWO. TIMES. every day! Once in the morning, and once at night!

Fat cat KNOWS she gets fed sometime after the sun comes up, but she doesn't know WHEN! She also knows that when she's hungry and ready to eat, she can go and ask for food! By. Meowing.

But she has never, IN THE 3 YEARS IVE LIVED HERE, come to ME to ask for food. Now don't get me wrong! I feed her! I am, in fact, primary cat feeder if the house! Because as the youngest it is my duty to get up and do whatever small task my siblings don't wanna do. (bring/guard cigs, feed cats, fill water bottle ect ect)

and she KNOWS I'm the feeder! Because the second she asks her parents to be fed, and they call my name, she RUNS to stare at me as I stand and start making my way to the cat food. So she is AWARE! THIS THIS IS MY JOB!

But I am not her parent. I am the interloper, the food slave, the one who doesn't pay rent and therefor gets no rights. So. She doesn't come tell me when she's hungry.

Now! Camera pan over to cats father!

my brother: the second eldest. He is very annoyed with me some mornings. Because every now and then, I stretch my waking hours to about 10 or 11 am, aka the time he wakes up for class and the few hours after the time that fat cat is SUPPOSED to be fed.

During the night, I keep my headphones on! This is me being considerate of the other people in the house. So none of my siblings wake to to the sound of my spooky ghost hunting videos or silly minecraft smps!

But this also means!!! I don't hear when the cat goes and meows in my brother's face at 8 or 9 am! Demanding to be fed! Screaming 'awaken father! I am withering away, and the sun is up! Feed me or face my wrath!' Two inches away from his face. So my brother, every now and then, wakes up and gets angry that I "let the cat" wake him up when I was already awake.

SO!

ME! BEING THE GOOD CONSIDERATE SIBLING I AM! I START LISTENING OUT FOR WHEN THE CATS START SCREAMING SO I CAN FEED THEM BEFORE THEY WAKE MY BROTHER UP!

And she recognized what I was doing. Immediately.

So. The next time she sees I'm awake . . . She goes to my brother room. And starts meowing. . . At 6 am. Technically sunrise, which is when she's 'supposed to be' fed. . . Almost 2 or 3 hours earlier than she's meant to.

I then. . . MOST OF THE TIME. . . Go to sleep. . . After I feed her. . . BECAUSE I GO TO BED AT 6 AM! And then. . . AT 8 OR 9 AM. . . SHE WAKES MY BROTHER UP TO FEED HER.

AND IM FAST ASLEEP UNABLE TO WARN HIM OF HER SCHEMES!

She ALSO attempts to do this at her evening meals! Where she demands to be fed roughly an hour earlier than normal. And I think, 'well I fed her way earlier than she's used to, so I guess it makes sense. ' so I feed her.

She's very confused on why it doesn't work the same when an hour laster she demands food again, but everyone was AWAKE! TO SEE HER BEING FED! she's like 'it worked this morning? Why not now?' And is VERY upset when we don't feed her twice at night.

FUCKING! FAT! ASS! CAT! SHE GOT ME AGAIN!

[heckyeahponyscans]

In my search for info about the Oldsmobile ad campaign, I came across this blog post:

----

The story of “not your father’s Oldsmobile.” Or how some really bad advertising changed the culture forever!

October 14, 2008

Time for a story boys and girls. It’s a tale that requires we go back 20 years, before copywriters had Macs, before email, before I lost my hair. This story harkens back to a day when Oldsmobiles roamed the earth. And their commercials filled the airwaves. I should know; I made some of them. Including the campaign that served as Olds’ final and famous (infamous?) death gasp: “Not Your Father’s Oldsmobile.”

 Dad’s was better.

The line has become a pop culture catch phrase, in the same ilk –albeit attached to worse advertising-as “Got Milk?”  Both slogans have been co-opted literally hundreds of times, far outlasting their original intent. Try reading your morning paper and not finding a variation on either line. For example, about a candidate: “This is not your father’s Democrat.”  About a technological innovation: “This is not your mother’s sewing machine.” And so on. Sadly enough, more Americans are familiar with the Olds’ slogan than of Shakespeare’s finest sonnets. Way more.

A soft-spoken creative director by the name of Joel Machak wrote that famous line. I actually came up with the campaign’s tag: “The New Generation of Olds.” Both pieces were intended as lyrics. That’s right, a jingle! As a matter of fact, I was brought in to help Joel come up with the refrain. The piece went together as follows (sing along):

       This is not your father’s Oldsmobile…This is the new generation of Olds.

Pretty spiffy, eh? The word “generation” was key. If you recall, each commercial featured a celebrity and one of his or her offspring. This is why the campaign is so damn silly. Outside of a morbid fascination with ogling Ringo Starr’s purple-haired daughter or Dave Brubeck’s motley looking brothers, placing the kin of “B” and “C” celebrities on camera was pure folly. Though I will concede we anticipated Reality TV by 10 years! If you do nothing else today, go to the above link. Trust me.

Where’s my Cutlass Supreme?

The very first spot was for the “totally redesigned Cutlass Supreme.” The protagonist for this commercial was none other than William Shatner, appearing as; you guessed it, Captain Kirk! Riding shotgun was his lovely college-aged daughter, Melanie Shatner. A middling actress, she was pretty darn cute. She also was well endowed. And this became problematic given her wardrobe and where we were shooting. It gets damn cold in the Palm Desert at night. The diaphanous gown provided Melanie was meant to be futuristic a la Star Trek, but it did nothing to warm her up. Subsequently, her nipples went completely rigid, sticking up like Spock’s ears.

beam me up, Scotty!

While this may sound lurid and comical now, at the time (3 AM) it was a “situation.” Imagine the middle-aged suit from GM, replete in a satin Oldsmobile Racing Team jacket, making his way over to the director. “Excuse me, but we can see her nipples!”  Given we’d already shot scenes of Melanie in the gown, a wardrobe change was not possible. The solution? Duct tape. And thus her cleavage had a silver lining.

The other moment I’ll never forget was a captured piece of dialogue (unscripted) between William and his daughter. Between takes, they were side by side in the white Cutlass. Unbeknown to either, the mic was still on. Listening to Captain Kirk school his daughter about the virtues of pep and sleeping pills as a key to nighttime shooting was priceless. What a Dad. What a cad. In a way, it preceded his Emmy-winning turn as Danny Crane by some 20 years.

I know this is trifling gossip, and long past its vintage. But like everyone else, I’m beaten down from our grim economy and an evermore-depressing election. Not to mention the woes of Chicago’s sports franchises… When I was new I used to love listening to the old-timers tell bawdy stories from their shoots. Now that I have a few under my belt, I figured we could all use a respite.

----

As a post-script: in 2021 the writer returned to his blog after fifteen years away. He explained that he had dropped out of the advertising biz and become a substance abuse counselor. He began work just as Covid broke out. Wow! I find that inspiring! He also has a Youtube channel devoted to his aquarium hobby, check it out here!

[mikaelle-story]

Chapter 1: A new Beginning

Read Prologue The bell rang, and the students filed into their poetry class. Reiko Fujimoto, their poetry teacher, greeted them warmly.

Reiko: "Hello, everyone," My name is Reiko Fujimoto. I am your poetry teacher. To start today's lesson, may I know your names?"

Kiyomi: "Hello, Miss Reiko. My name is Kiyomi Nakahara, 15 years old. I'm a photographer here. I love capturing the beauty of the world through my lens."

Noriko: "Hello, Miss Reiko. My name is Noriko Tanaka, 15. I'm a journalist. I spend most of my time writing essays, diary entries, anything that inspires me."

Suzu: "Hello, Miss Reiko. My name is Suzu Hoshino, 15 years old. I play the piano. Music has been a part of my life since I was little."

Erika: "Hello, Miss Reiko. I'm Erika Watanabe, 15 years old. I’m in the drama club, mostly handling props, but I’m working on my stage presence too."

Reiko: "Wonderful. Let's begin our journey into poetry. It’s a way to express emotions, tell stories, and sometimes uncover truths hidden within us."

Reiko: An example of this is

The Boy and the Violin Girl There was a boy, a pianist by soul, Whose music once soared, but now took a toll. His passion lost, the notes no longer sweet, For his mother’s illness made him feel incomplete. Her voice was harsh, her hands cruel and cold, Demanding perfection, a story untold. She hit him for every note that went wrong, Her love was laced with pain all along. Afraid of the stage, he hid from the crowd, Fearing the judgment, the truth, so loud. He ran from the pain, his heart full of hate, He wished her gone, to leave him with fate. The maid, with a sigh, spoke soft and kind, “Why hurt him so? Teach him, don’t bind. He’s just a child, so young and unsure, Why not guide him gently, make his heart pure?” The mother, with eyes that were tired and worn, Answered the maid, her heart tattered and torn. “I don’t have much time, that’s why I’m so stern, I want to hear him play, before I return.” But the maid whispered softly, “You’re causing him pain, Instead of yelling, show him how to sustain.” That day, the mother’s breath faded away, And the boy’s passion for music was led astray. He lost each contest, his spirit in chains, No longer finding joy in the piano’s strains. One day, he wandered, his heart full of woe, He sat on a bench, with nothing to show. But then a violin played, gentle and clear, A girl’s music filled the air, drawing him near. He looked at her, eyes wide with surprise, And whispered, “Your music is like a dream in disguise.” She smiled, then asked, “Why do you look so sad? I see in your eyes the sorrow you’ve had. You’ve lost someone precious, someone you adore, Tell me, young boy, what are you mourning for?” He sighed deeply, “It’s my mother I’ve lost, She was my joy, my reason, my cost. But she grew sick, and her love turned to rage, Her words were cruel, like a bitter cage. I regret what I said, when I wished her to die, Now I visit her grave, with tears in my eyes. I mourn for the love that I couldn’t give, I don’t know if she hears me, but I still live.” The girl, with a tender voice, said with grace, “Though she’s gone, she’s with you in this place. Her love stays in your heart, her music in your hands, She’s listening to you, in the whispers of the lands. Don’t regret what was said, don’t let it bind you, I think she forgives, and she’s still here to guide you. Why not join me now, let’s make music as one, You’ll find your passion, when it’s all said and done.” The boy, with a soft nod, agreed to her plea, And together they played, setting their spirits free. The music was gentle, smooth, and serene, As the boy felt his heart begin to redeem. But then he froze, unsure of the key, The girl saw his fear, and she asked patiently, “Are you okay? You’re frightened, I see, The memories of your mother still bind you to be.” He nodded, “Yes, I can’t seem to forget, Her harsh words echo, a pain I regret.” She smiled gently, “Then let me teach you the way, Relax your body, let your heart sway.” With her gentle guidance, he found the right note, The music flowed, as his heart began to float. He played with grace, the keys in perfect line, The sound was soothing, like a fine wine. The girl smiled, “You’ve done so well, my friend, Your journey is healing, it’s not the end.” He looked at her, his eyes full of light, “I did it for you, for you made it right.” She laughed softly, “Now let’s join hands, Together we’ll conquer, in music we’ll stand.” The boy nodded, his heart full of cheer, With the girl by his side, he had nothing to fear. They entered the contest, as partners in tune, And won each and every one, beneath the moon. Their music was magic, their bond ever strong, Together they played, where they both belonged.

After class, the friends gathered in the courtyard.

Kiyomi: "That poem was intense. Do you think it’s based on a true story?"

Noriko: "Miss Reiko writes like someone who’s seen things. It’s almost too vivid to be fiction."

Suzu: "I don't know."

Erika: "That poem was beautiful."

Read Chapter 2

[jdgo51]

August 5, 2024

Life Abundant

Carol Purves (England, United Kingdom)

"God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." - Genesis 1:31 (NIV)

"For nearly 30 years I have suffered from chronic fatigue syndrome. This illness takes various forms for different people, and in my case I experience extreme fatigue with very little pain. But it stops me from doing things I want to do and serving the Lord in the way I would like to.

At times I have resented my illness, wanting to lead a full and busy life only to be pulled up short by my limitations. But sometimes I am able to look upon my illness as a blessing. It has stopped me from being proud since I can no longer rely on my own skill. I now have sympathy for others who are ill, which has made me a kinder person.

And I can pray. There is no shortage of people who need my prayers. When I say to someone, “I’ll pray for you,” I can mean it and do it. There is now time for me to listen to other people, to hear their woes and confidences, and then encourage them through emails, texts, or letters. The pace of my life is slower. There is time to listen to the birds and revel in nature. Even in the frustration of chronic illness, God is with me, helping me to live life abundantly."' Slow down, have empathy and know you are not the only one who has difficulties. Being kind is easy, if we make an effort.

Today's Prayer

"Loving Father, help us to find your presence and blessing in our current circumstances. Give us strength and courage to trust you." Amen.

Psalm 139:13-24

"13 You are the one who created my innermost parts; you knit me together while I was still in my mother’s womb. 14 I give thanks to you that I was marvelously set apart. Your works are wonderful—I know that very well. 15 My bones weren’t hidden from you when I was being put together in a secret place, when I was being woven together in the deep parts of the earth. 16 Your eyes saw my embryo, and on your scroll every day was written that was being formed for me, before any one of them had yet happened. 17 God, your plans are incomprehensible to me! Their total number is countless! 18 If I tried to count them—they outnumber grains of sand! If I came to the very end—I’d still be with you. 19 If only, God, you would kill the wicked! If only murderers would get away from me 20 the people who talk about you, but only for wicked schemes; the people who are your enemies, who use your name as if it were of no significance. 21 Don’t I hate everyone who hates you? Don’t I despise those who attack you? 22 Yes, I hate them—through and through! They’ve become my enemies too. 23 Examine me, God! Look at my heart! Put me to the test! Know my anxious thoughts! 24 Look to see if there is any idolatrous way in me, then lead me on the eternal path!" God has know you from the beginning of your life and He is with you. Just know in your heart and mind that He is there. Has been all along your journey. Blessings! Joe

[nyctx]

#19

I think I'm just miserable at this point. Today sucked and all I want to do is change myself again or roll into the fucking grave. Wait, that's pathetic, very pathetic.

This a diary basically, I could give a fuck if it is pathetic, not like I plan on sharing this shit with anyone anyways. And besides, who wants to hear someone ramble about their woes all fucking day? Exactly.

I went to see Ghostbusters with my family today and all it was today was jokes and jokes galore on how I resemble and look like Pheobe so much. Comments, jokes, remarks, all of it was fucking irritating. I haven't looked like her in over a YEAR and have stopped trying to act like the nerdy curly haired girl that always has something to say. Because god forbid I get sick and tired of hearing the same things OVER and OVER again. All for what? Because it's a compliment? Because I should be grateful I get compared to a fucking Mary Sue? Is that how people see me? That part of me died, a long time ago. I changed for a reason, a purpose. Because that side of me got me ridiculed and ostracized by my peers for YEARS. All because I acted different, because I lacked social cues no one guided me or helped me to learn. Because I was non conforming at the bright age of fucking FIVE. You think I WANT to be compared to something that just gives me a slap to my fucking face and reminds me I can't change? That I'll forever be the little kid that WANTED friends because no one else batted an eye after a while? That the only friends I had pitied me and made me feel unimportant?

That part of me wanted to kill themselves, wanted nothing but the absolute worst to happen to themselves because they felt so shitty that the only thing they thought they deserved was death. That part of me lived thinking no one cared about them because their mom was always busy working and their dad could give less of a shit because he was working and absent. They lived thinking everyone would eventually hate them for the smallest thing, they let those eggshells sink deeper and deeper into their fucking feet until it replaced the flesh and embedded into their agonized body. Until they sat years later trying to pluck out each shard and letting their feet heal.

So God forbid. God fucking forbid I hate being compared to something that brings me back to feeling like a pathetic piece of shit. God forbid I start hiding my tears because I haven't healed and can't cope with those memories. God forbid I hate compliments because they remind me of the lies kids told me when I was younger to get a rise out of me and crush me. God forbid I hate feeling vulnerable because of how much it feels like a leech.

All for me to feel bad? Feel bad because I'm afraid of making my mom so upset that she tries to end her life again. One wrong move, one wrong thing said on a bad day, it could all go to shit and then who would be to blame? Me, because I don't know when to keep my fucking mouth shut, but then regret it because it makes my mom feel shitty. But why would I feel bad? Why would I ever open up to her knowing that all that will be thrown at me is a half assed dismissal to invalidate how I feel. I dont know, I just distract myself until it hits me. I'll be having the time of life before my brain goes "your mom tried killing herself on her birthday, keep your tongue bitten and make sure you do what is said or she might try again because you didnt listen." Because at the end of the day, her and my step dads feelings matter more, not us. At the end of the day, what I say doesn't matter. At the end of the day, I'm just a puppet on a string the second I get home. I'm just a pawn, a doll, a goddamn blinded dog being led to my death. That's all I'll be, a slave and a floor mat. IT affects just me feeling in control of myself. It feels like a temporary mutism. I'm so afraid of the thought of getting that call saying that shes gone, that she didn't keep their promise. Death is unexpected, and depression is a damn monster.

I should've been ran over by both of those cars, I should've successfully hung myself in that garage, I should've been able to swallow down those pills, I should've been aborted like the unwanted child my biological dad saw in the first place. I. Shouldn't. Be. Here.

Before I laid down, my mom tried getting me to talk to her about how I felt. Wow, after every time I've heard her and my step dad say their feelings are to be prioritized more, I should open up? I couldn't even get through that minute without tearing up and turning my body to the side so that my mom couldn't see the pathetic child she raised.

"No.." I walked back to my room and then stopped "..er, no ma'am." And then went back to my room because all my mom wants to hear is that she implemented manners and raised "Good kids". Now I sit here wanting to sob my eyes out.

Because I feel guilty for not feeling guilty for shutting my mom out after years of being invalidated and talked down because I'm "just a kid." Because at the end of the day, that's all I'll ever be to her. But she's had it worse. Do you really think she needs her kid telling her that they're stressed because of something that seems so miniscule compared to her ever growing problems? She needs something else to worry about as if she doesn't have enough to worry about enough? I can't do that to her.

I feel....like a monster. My mom and her boyfriend had just given me this lecture, and I just feel horrible about the whole thing. Lets start off with the fact this all originated from my birthday dinner, my sister told me that her mom and her siblings were leaving my father figure at the end of the month and that it would the last times we'd see each other and she said I cant tell anyone. I feel like the biggest hypocrite as to why i was so upset about this. I told my mom at least two days or so after, which led her to tell my father figure even though i feared what would happen if i told someone else. She said it was inappropriate for her to tell me on that day even though i saw no problem with it. After that, my sister stopped reaching out, and I felt like I had lost the ability to trust my mom. Things were just quiet and i blamed myself for the entire thing because I felt like it was my fault, even though everyone says it wasnt, but i still blame myself because if i didnt tell my mom, it wouldnt have happened. Then my sister reached out to me and i told my mom and she tried asking for screenshots of the conversation, but I feel so so so uncomfortable with the thought of it, so i told her no. She asked again and I said "didn't you say that the last time?" and she got upset and called me selfish. How I can trust my sister after she hurt me on multiple accounts but not her. She thinks she right and I honestly think im the wrong one in this situation, that its my fault because i cant keep my damn mouth shut. But fails to realize that it's easier to trust her because I don't see her everyday, she can forget it. I live with my mom everyday and live with each mistake and each time my step dad tells me the things I do or lack make her feel shitty about herself. She said shes not going to apologize for it, she thinks shes right. Im just a kid, and she's the parent. She wants control - no, needs it over the situation, or else she starts self-deprecating, and god knows what happens if it gets bad. Im afraid of what would happen if it did get bad.

-Dxllface

[ear-worthy]

Why Podcast Listening Is Such An Intimate Experience

 There are numerous reasons why listening to podcasts is an intimate experience. Even companies that sell ads on podcasts find, in their research, that podcast fans have a special bond with podcasters. That's one reason why host-read ads resonate so well with listeners.

With podcasting, as with music, you can create your audio world with sound becoming your personal valet. No one knows what you're listening to unless you share that information. Listening to a podcast and music is indeed a much different experience. Music can facilitate a daydream, convey a mood you want to reproduce, or you can revel in the emotional cloth that music can provide.

Listening to a podcast offers a more intellectual, thoughtful, emotional, and informative experience. 

You can think, reflect, laugh, scoff, snicker, scream, doubt, and believe. 

For example, when I work in my garden a few times a week, The Daily with Michael Barbaro is my constant companion. If I'm driving in the evening, APM Marketplace rides with me in my Hyundai. I don't blast the speakers or dial up the bass to vibrate the interior to show off to others that I'm listening to music. Instead, I bath myself in the carefully considered words of Kai Ryssdal on Marketplace. 

When I walk five miles almost every day (no walking in the rain or in extreme temperatures over 90 degrees and under 10 degrees), I can't wait to cycle through my favorite podcasts. As I move past houses in my neighborhood, I am treated to the words of Sean Rameswaram from Today, Explained or the true-crime podcast The Murder Sheet.

When people listen to music, there are often those visual cues they cannot help but display. A tap, tap, tap of your feet. A simulation of your hands playing drums on your thighs. A sway of your hips or a bob of your head. 

The message to the outside world is clear.

"I'm listening to some great music, everyone."

When listening to a podcast like Slate's Hit Parade, it's just me and host Chris Molanphy geeking out the Billboard charts. Or Ken Rudin on The Political Junkie, giving me an insight into famous past events in political history.

A great podcast can capture your attention, such as Decoder Ring with Willa Paskin. You can be so focused on the words and sounds in the podcast and still be concentrating on cleaning the house, washing the car, cleaning out your closet, or even packing orders for your small business.

Listening to a podcast is an intimate experience between you, your ears, and the podcast host and guests. It's like inviting these people into your brain. They stay for a while, maybe an hour, and then leave you with some info, a few insights, a kernel of a new idea, a funny story, a tale of woe, or the sense that the wrong person was convicted.  

So the next time, you carefully insert your earbuds, use your podcast app to decide upon a podcast, think about the act of allowing another person to enter your ears.

I can't speak for you, but I'm selective about who enters my ears. It's a sacred space. 

That's the weird part about video podcasts on YouTube. There's nothing wrong with them, and for some, the video component is a necessary part of their media consumption choice. Yet, once a podcast is on a video screen, it's as if the podcast loses that sense of intimacy and the "I only have ears for you" quality. 

Somehow, media, in its myriad formats, attaches to our daily routines in unique ways on a personal and social level. A movie theater, of course, is a social experience with moviegoers keying off the reactions of the people seated near them -- laughter, sadness, fright, and shock -- like a virus that moves from person to person, unseen but powerful. 

Radio has always had a duality about it. On one hand, radio was a family experience before television when the family would sit around the Zenith Upright Radio and listen to Captain Midnight, Jack Benny, or The Shadow. In the next generation, radio was the primary source for popular rock n' roll music and was often a communal listening experience with dancing its complimentary physical activity, or perhaps a more intimate consensual contact "under the boardwalk."

Yet, radio has been slowly fenced off and restricted to commuting in a vehicle, so it's become more of a personal activity. Preset radio buttons are a touch away for us, and they are just for us. 

A favorite warning when someone borrows our car.

"Do not, under any circumstances, change my radio presets."

Since its arrival in the late 40s, television has always been a communal experience, especially when a family had only one television set. Of course, sometimes only one family in a neighborhood had a TV in the early days of TV in the 50s. Back then, TV was indeed a neighborhood bonding event. 

Today, streaming TV, phones and tablets that allow for TV viewing have, to a large extent, repurposed TV viewing as a more personal experience. Today, people are forever looking at their phone screens. 

In a feat of technological synchronicity, the development of headphones and wireless earbuds has now walled off TV viewing from the communal to the solitary.

Even music has lost some of that pop-cultural ambiance as the current generation retreats to AirPods and its other branded cousins. Music, to a large extent, isn't in the air anymore. Just in our ears. What we listen to doesn't bring us together anymore, as much as it splits us apart.

Listening to a podcast is still a personal act. A one-person play. A deep connection between our ears and the images, ideas, thoughts, and concepts those sounds create. Photo by Mikhail Nilov

When listening to a podcast, it isn't what enters your ears that is as important as what travels from your ears to your brain.

As TV psychologist from the 1970s, Dr. Joyce Brothers, once said, "Real intimacy is only possible to the degree that we can be honest about what we are doing and feeling." 

Somehow, you're never alone when listening to a podcast. The podcaster's voice isn't like the hollow camaraderie or vicious anonymity that comes from social media. 

Actor Amy Poehler once said, "Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you; spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life."

For me, those people include Stephen Dubner Freakonomics, Laur Hesse Fisher TIL Climate, Ashley Hamer Taboo Science, Seraphina Malina-Derben Seraphina Speaks, Tim Harford Cautionary Tales, Matt Gilhooly The Life Shift, Rita Richa Bippity Boppity Business, Jenn Trepeck Salad With A Side Of Fries, Shakar Vedantam Hidden Brain, and many more.

How about You?

[mazzastick]

Zen12 Meditation

Over 10 million Americans regularly practice meditation, according to Psychology Today magazine.

The benefits include enhanced brain power, massive improvements in health, and increased happiness and energy levels.

Yet, with so many profound benefits, the real question is... Why aren't more people doing it?

Why Meditation Can Be So Difficult

If you're anything like me, you probably already know the answer: Meditation can be challenging!

The main problem is that most people don't have the time.

For best results, meditation requires 45-60 minutes of daily practice. The results are only sometimes immediately visible, too. They typically build up over time.

But those aren't the only hurdles. Quietening a busy mind and calming a restless body are two of the biggest reasons people don't give meditation a fair go.

However, there may be a solution in sight.

The Scientific Answer to Meditation Woes

I recently got hold of a program that claims to be the next generation in meditation. It's called Zen 12.

Zen12 is an audio meditation program that uses special "brainwave" sounds to take the hassle out of meditation.

They claim that listening to one of their Zen12 sessions is easy. There are no rules, emptying of your mind, or special positions. You just hit play and let the session do the rest of the work for you.

They say the special sounds will automatically relax your mind and body. And each session lasts just twelve minutes so that it won't strain your day.

I wasn't convinced. So, I decided to try it out for myself.

Home Labs: My Twelve-Minute Experiment

I signed up for the Zen 12 Meditation Program for myself. I went for their full package, consisting of twelve full levels.

You listen to each level for a month, then move on to the next. Each level is also available in different "flavors": guided meditation, relaxation music, sounds of nature, and so on.

I opted for the relaxation music. Per the instructions, I hit play on my iPhone, sat back on my sofa, and chilled out.

Twelve minutes later, I was coming round again.

Wow! I felt refreshed. I was calm and relaxed while also focused. I felt like I was "on form," perhaps even "in the Zone" if I were being cliché.

I decided to credit my experience to the smoothie I had that morning and went about my daily business. My day was productive, joyful, and better than usual in so many ways.

After discrediting my smoothie theory a couple of days later, I tried the Zen12 session again—the same results. Then, the next day, the same results were seen again.

It was astounding. I was finally discovering why everyone raved about meditation!

Brainwave Sounds Help Me "Cheat" at Meditation

It's all down to our brainwaves.

Normal meditation requires you to access deeper mental states, which can take years of meditative practice to reach. Zen12 uses special 'brainwave' sounds, which take you there quicker.

That means you get to "cheat" at meditation and enjoy the results quicker than ever before.

So, by playing a simple MP3 and chilling for 12 minutes, I could instantly enjoy the immediate benefits of an hour's meditation.

Every day I used Zen12, I felt more productive and positive overall.

I felt fresher, happier, more focused, creative, and energetic than usual. And I'm told there are dozens of cumulative brain power and health benefits, too.

There was no battling with a busy mind or constant fidgeting. I "Zenned )ut" and got on with it. There was no issue with time either. It just takes 12 minutes, and you don't have to do it daily.

Following in the Footsteps of Gandhi

Zen12 has genuinely changed my attitude toward meditation.

It's at the cutting edge of a new wave of science that is helping us make our lives easier while tapping into the natural resources of the human mind.

This is meditation, as it should be. Meditation 3.0. Mediation for the microwave age.

Whatever you want to call it, this works -- and even though you don't have to use it every day, I just might.

And I'm reminded of Ghandi, who once said: "I'm so busy today, I may have to meditate for two hours instead of one."

But forget an hour. How about ... twelve minutes?

Rating: 10/10

Pros: Instant meditation results in just 12 minutes; it works!

Cons: No telephone support.

Conclusion: Buy it! Zen 12 will change your meditation experience forever.

Thanks for reading my Zen 12 Review

[mrpenguinpants]

Xiao and Diluc: Opposites Attract HCs

Minor spoilers for Xiao’s and Diluc’s backstory.

Yes, more xiao content. Oh and Diluc. Diluc is there too. I wonder who my favourite child is? Honestly, it’s probably Childe. Every time I write “child” I end up misspelling it to “childe”. It’s consumed me. But yes anon I love the opposites attract trope. It’s so nice having person A be this cute cinnamon roll and person B is the ew don’t touch me go away I hate you, just mwah 💕

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Today’s appreciation post goes to imlikemoony. My entire reblog notifications have just been you and thanks for the spam haha. I love seeing new people go through my work and enjoy it so thank you^^ Please don’t feel like this is a callout post I swear it isn’t 💕💕

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Xiao Semi Series

[ Friendship ] [ Falling in Love ] [ Cuddles ] [ Protective ] [ Affection ] [ Jealously ]

Diluc HCs

[ Comfort HCs ] [ Relationship HCs ] [ Being Fathers HCs ] [ Jealously HCs ] [ Unrequited Love HCs ] [ String of Fate [Soulmate] ]  [ Fainting ]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji  @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @youaskedfurret @snowy224 @mayumintsu​ @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @legionqueensav

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Xiao and Diluc: Opposites Attract HCs

Xiao

It occurs to Xiao one day that despite being alive for centuries, he doesn’t know a lot of people. Xiao has only known Rex Lapis and his fellow adepti and only just recently introduced this life to others such as Verr and Ming. It never bothered him and still doesn’t, he prefers his life to be peaceful and in solitude since it’s safer that way, but when you crash into his life with all your unrestrained energy. He’s a bit of a loss for words. The only other person he knows that acts similar is Guizhong, but it’s still a bit of a troubling memory but either then that, he’s never interacted with someone so...open with their feelings. Though he supposes that Hu Tao was somewhat similar but in a different way. Unlike the craziness and exasperated actions that Hu Tao brought, your presence was a breath of fresh air and sometimes he found himself caught up in your antics.

When Xiao thinks about it, if he were to ever find love he suspected he would prefer someone who was calm and independent. He wasn’t the most affectionate so he wouldn’t want a partner that relied on that and he liked the peace and quiet the inn provided. That was until he saved you one day and you felt it was your absolute responsibility to return the favour, even though he told you many times that you really did not need to. If you wanted to return the favour you could leave him alone. Simple as that. Which didn’t work and in hindsight he was glad you were so stubborn to hang around until you managed to find out his favourite food was almond tofu.

The moment that set in stone Xiao’s love for you is when he told you his past. When he was named Atalus. How he had been possessed and forced to kill against his will. How he devoured dreams and lived in agony before he was saved by Rex Lapis. He was scared that you would fear and leave him, only for you to slowly lace your hands with his and wept for his own misfortune. He’s never had someone cry for him and he realized that he never wanted to see you upset like this again.

At first your larger than life personality put him off a bit, how could someone run through life as if nothing was wrong? What would happen if you finally faced loss? Wouldn’t that make things worse? It wasn’t until he spent more time with you that he saw your point of view, that while he couldn’t adopt the same idea, he respected it and began to appreciate it. It was nice having some sort of solace in his day even if it was just for a few minutes. Something to get his mind of the darker things while you start chatting about this really nice old lady with a domain sized teapot.  

Though, there was a bit of a downside to this. Since you bared your heart on your sleeve, perhaps in Mondstadt it would seem normal but here in Liyue, everyone hid behind some kind of mask so people found you a bit naïve and would try and hassle you. It always sent Xiao into a worried state when you left the inn to go out on your next adventure. Verr likes to compare him to a cat waiting for it’s owner at the door, but as soon as they return he acts so moody as if he wasn’t waiting at the balcony trying to see if he could see your clothing peak over the hill. He has no idea how she comes up with these ridiculous ideas.

Another “downside” Xiao discovers is that you have mini bursts of affection. You describe it as a those anemo slimes that pop when you shoot them, morbid as that description is, you’re not wrong. Your bursts of affection always manage to startle and embarrass Xiao, especially when he was with others. He wasn’t going to tell you to change yourself, never will he do that, but when you clasp his hands and tell him with all your love and shining eyes that he’s “doing such a good job” and “you’re so proud of him”. He wants to melt because wow, he never noticed how much he values your praise and how it sends his heart flying. But he can’t because Childe and Zhongli are right there.

Zhongli smiles pleasantly while Childe looses his absolute shit, which causes Xiao to kick his spear at Childe because he refuses to let go of your hands and hisses at him. Even when you try and scold him it doesn’t last long because this has become a weekly occurrence. Only now Xiao will give you a quick kiss before he goes off to gut Childe while you and Zhongli wave pleasantly and talk about how the weather is faring. Everyone that isn’t a native to Liyue think’s you’re all insane as they hear Childe’s screams as Xiao attempts first degree murder.

It interesting to see you both interact to outsiders. Xiao has his piercing yellow eyes and reserved demeanor while you’re this sweet and bright person. Before Xiao met you, people could never get a good look at the mysterious man that stays in the top balcony of the Wangshu Inn. But now if they came at the right time, they could spot a soft smiled man in green listening to a very animated talk with someone else, using their hands with a dramatic flair. That is until the man notices them trying to eavesdrop and the softness in his eyes drops and goes to irritation as he glares at them, curling a hand around his partner’s waist, and he let’s off a warning growl. His partner never seems bothered, only turning around to give a small wave in greeting, smiling as if the dangerous aura radiating behind them didn’t exist, before giving the man a small kiss as they go back to their conversation.

While you live a larger than life way, you also enjoy the small moments with Xiao. Xiao prefers to spend his time sitting above the inn and overlooking Liyue which you enjoy too. Resting near each other as you watch the sun go down is calming and takes the stress of life away. But sometimes you just want to bring Xiao out and have some fun.

Which ends up with you dragging him off to the pond near the Wangshuu inn, you wanted to catch frogs for whatever reason. Weren’t you both a bit too old to be playing with frogs? But he stands by and watch's you chase around the poor animals, tracking mud all over your clothing and skin, he can’t help but let a small smile slip. It isn’t until you end up falling into the pond after slipping that he’s on alert mode that he runs over worried.

Only for you to pop up and start bursting out into laughter. Xiao is stunned for a few moment as he watches you laugh at your own mistake, mud scrapped all over your face and clothes, the fact that you’re still in the pond with a frog on your head. He can’t help but feel his face fall as his mouth twitches into a smile as he chuckles along with you. He reaches over to try and scrub the dirt off your face but it only ends up smearing it more but you appreciate the effort. He carefully lifts you up as he carries you back to the inn. He thinks back to when you both first met, how he spent so much time worrying over his life as an adeptis and you as a human, but now those thoughts have been flung out of his mind. He wants to take your approach, that why worry over the little details of the future when you can enjoy the bigger moments you have now.

Diluc

On days that Diluc works as the bartender for Angel Share, if you come at just the right time when the sun was still high in the sky, you might be able to catch the ever distant man smiling and engaged with a conversation with one specific patron. Of course, this silly “rumour” was made up by the ladies of Mondstadt with too much free time on their hands but given Diluc’s reputation and demeanor it did make some travelers curious. Only for them to write it off as this special patron to be a green bard or cunning captain. One that Diluc surely did not crack a smile at. In fact it seemed to be the opposite. But the tavern isn’t so bad, there’s this nice individual that will listen to all your sorrows with kind eyes and a gentle heart.  

As soon as the last customer leaves and Diluc locks the door, does he let his shoulder drop and he breathes a sigh of relief. Before turning and walking to you as he let’s himself relax in your embrace. He listens as you re-tell on the woes of a jewelry saleswoman from Liyue to how Venti is still getting ID checked at the Cat’s Tail as he basks in your warmth. He’s glad that this is what’s troubling the people of Mondstadt and not anything incredibly dangerous relating to the Fatui or the Abyss Order. He asks if you’re doing alright to which you grin and nod that everything was perfect, before placing a small kiss on your forehead and he leads you out back and into the night and ready to return home.

Kaeya finds a lot of enjoyment going to up to you and discussing his “concerns” about Diluc. It always leads to you fretting over his health and if he was working too hard and he should take a break. Diluc is whipped and cannot say no to you so he always begrudgingly let’s you lead him away as Kaeya smiles and waves him off. It’s gotten to the point that no matter what Diluc is in the middle of, unless it’s of the upmost importance, if he catches Kaeya anywhere near you he’s swooping in and leading you away.

Diluc has always been straight to the point, non-nonsense idle talk, but when you drag him away to simply lie down at Starsnatch Cliff just because you were worried about him, he can’t help but feel his heart warm. Watching you blow on dandelions and enjoy the peaceful winds of Mondstadt does he let his hectic life standstill. 

When Diluc first met you, it was during his three year long journey to discover the truth of his father and the Delusions. You had saved him during his escape from a Fatui stronghold and explained you were apart of a third-party observer from the North. A vast underground intelligence network that approved of his actions and wanted him to join. Diluc, still deep in his anger and untrustworthy state of anyone, declined the offer but you still hanged around him. He didn’t understand why, and frankly did not want you anywhere near him, but you did save him. Something you very much liked to bring up, even after returning to Mondstadt. He couldn’t necessarily push you away and despite leaving the Knights of Favonius, he still maintained the same chivalry that all knights had.

From then on it had just been the two of you, him looking for the next Fatui base while you travelled with him as an “observer” despite helping him and being overly chatty. Asking where the next destination is like you’re some sort of overeager kid. At first, he really disliked your presence. A lot. In his mind you were a second Kaeya and after the events of what had happened, he might have been far colder to you than he should have been. He thought you were hiding behind the same kind of mask Kaeya did and that you were secretly some Fatui agent sent to kill him. But that never seemed to deter you, even making fun of the idea that the Fatui would seriously try and send an agent to con him rather than try and kill him outright with all the information he had on them.

You both had your clashes when it came to certain things, especially when it came to taking breaks and sightseeing. He felt that you were way too relaxed for something so important and you felt he was way to uptight and needed to stop running through life. But overtime, he found that he actually somewhat enjoyed your personality and quirks. While you could kick a Fatui’s guard head off if you tried hard enough, you would also drag him to feed the ducks by a pond. He had come to learn that you and Kaeya were different, you didn’t wear a mask and bared your heart to the world. He thought you were a bit foolish for doing that since you can never really trust anyone but you instead offered that not everyone was a bad person, that if he spent every waking moment trying to backstab someone would that really be a life worth living?

It’s during the lantern festival in Liyue does he really come to understand his goals in life. Writing down wishes for the new year to send off in paper lanterns is when he acknowledges his shortcomings and finally agrees to join the underground intelligence network. You offer him a bright grin as you cheer that he finally finally got off his stubborn self and you’re now officially partners in not-really-but-still-technically crime. For the first time since Diluc started his journey, he gives a small smile and let’s himself relax as he watched the golden lanterns fly through the sky beside you.

When he decides it’s time to return to Mondstadt and take up his position as Diluc Ragnvindr, he tries to not so subtly ask if you would want to join him. He knows that you still have ties to that secret organization and you probably have your own agenda but Diluc has gotten used to your bubbly personality, he doesn’t want to live without you. But his worries are quickly squashed when you tease him for a bit but slip your hand in his and ask where the next destination is. 

---

Gripping my writing hand, I went overboard and ran with it. I really want to write pre-hcs of how you met Xiao and a continuation of young Diluc and you. But I must finish my inbox.  Also my joke of Xiao beating things into submission started all the way back to my first Xiao HCs of friendship. I did not know this lol. I just think it’s funny to imagine xiao doing it. I’m about to high five my past self.

By the way, should I break up my hcs more? I feel like they are actual paragraphs and that might be annoying to read.

[lucy90712]

Joan Mir- Disappointment

A/n: this part is based on the 2021 second Misano race

This weekend was supposed to be fun and enjoyable but so far its been anything but. I have been looking forward to this weekend and getting to finally go to a race in person for the first time in a couple months but it's turned out not to be a good idea. Joan has been really struggling on the bike this weekend and can't seem to get his set up right which isn't helping with the mental side of things which I know he has also been struggling with all weekend. It has been really hard watching him get so annoyed with himself as he puts all the blame on himself and then just feels bad for the rest of the day which makes it difficult to spend all night with him as he just doesn't want to talk.

Things haven't got much better today as he is going to have to go through q1 if he wants to get on the front rows of the grid which has everyone in the garage upset me included but it only got worse when Joan pulled up in the garage and threw his gloves on the side while shaking his head. Usually I would talk to him when he first gets back to the garage even after a bad session but today it looked like he needed some time to cool off and talk to the team before I try and cheer him up with whatever I come up with by looking at exactly how he's feeling. Watching from a distance I could see the frustration on his face as his crew chief tried to talk though the session with him as well as the plan for qualifying to try and get him the best grid position possible which he didn't want to hear but it had to happen.

His crew left him after their talk and he sat there for a moment before I walked over to talk to him but before I could say anything he got up grabbing my hand and dragging me towards his motorhome. When we got there he shut the door more gently than I expected before putting his arms around me and put his head in my neck sighing slightly and pulling me even closer. Eventually he pulled away and we sat on the sofa where he vented all his frustrations to me which I gladly let him do as all weekend he's been bottling his feelings which doesn't make anything better plus that's what I'm here for I mean what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't listen to his woes. I tried to offer advice to the best of my abilities based on the things I've learnt in my years with Joan but also gave him some comfort which seemed to help a little bit as I saw a small smile appear across his face when I made a joke to distract him.

Fp4 came and went way too quickly meaning it was time for qualifying and I had just a minute to give Joan a pep talk before he went out, we do this every weekend even when I'm not there as I always call him before a session to wish him luck as well as provide some motivation. This weekend he needs it more than ever so I knelt down in front of him with my hands on his face getting him to look in my eyes as I spoke to him.

"You've got this remember what we talked about earlier you just need to do your best and whatever happens happens as long as you know you put everything in no more can be done but I believe in you I've watched you do harder things than this a million times there is no reason you shouldn't believe in yourself" I encouraged

He said nothing just nodded and kissed me before putting on his helmet and getting on his bike and speeding out the garage. Everyone in the garage was watching the screens as qualifying went on and of course I was too but I was also so incredibly nervous to the point that I had my knees up and kept looking through my hands so that I didn't have to look directly at the screen. Things weren't going well either which made it even harder to watch and it was almost like I could feel his pain and frustration as each lap went by and the time didn't improve. My eyes were closed when I heard a sigh around the garage and before even looking I knew that he hadn't made it through to q2. What I didn't expect was for him to be 8th in the session which means he's 18th on the grid, seeing it just broke my heart because I knew he would be super upset with himself and really nervous for the race tomorrow which has never ended well on the day.

I knew he would want to be alone for a while to think and then talk to his crew chief so I gave him a hug when he got back in the garage before leaving to go on a walk around the paddock which I did feel bad about but I knew it was the right thing to do. As I walked around all I could think about was Joan and how he's going to be feeling tomorrow as well as how he's going to be awake all night thinking about it. There has been many occasions when he's been nervous for a race but this weekend he seems a lot more nervous than he's ever been before and I'm not quite sure how I can help him which makes me feel like a bad girlfriend.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Fabio came over to talk to me, we know each other quite well as him and Joan used to be teammates in moto3 so it was nice to catch up with him and distract myself from what I had to go back to. We caught up on what we have each been doing over the few years or so since we last spoke and he asked how me and Joan were doing which caught me off guard a little bit but it makes sense for him to ask as the last time I spoke to him me and Joan weren't living together but recently we just brought our own house together so there been quite a change in our relationship. He also asked me how Joan was doing because he saw he was struggling out on track which brought me right back to my worries from before but to be nice I told him that Joan was just not feeling it this weekend before I left to go back to the motorhome and see the man in question.

Back at the motorhome I could hear talking through the door but it was too muffled to make out what was being said so I knocked on the door expecting just to hear him say come in but instead the door opened showing a stressed looking Frankie who quickly whispered in my ear that Joan was doing better but still not in a great mood before leaving and allowing me to go in. He wasn't in the living room area so I went to the bedroom to see him laying face first on the bed, I quietly walked towards him sitting down next to him and putting my hand on his back rubbing it up and down to comfort him. We sat there in silence for a while until he sat up and began to actually share his feelings and how nervous he was for the race which just sharing seemed to be a huge weight off his shoulders as I even saw a twinge of a smile for a split second.

"You really don't need to be so nervous it's just one race and you are allowed to have weekends where you don't do so well and you are so consistent every other weekend that one bad qualifying isn't going to hurt you" I said

"I know I just feel like I've let everyone down as they expect more from me" he shared

"Well don't feel like that anyone who is a true fan will understand that you tried your best and before you say anything about the team they know it's been a tough weekend I mean Alex didn't make it to q2 either it's just not been a good weekend for you guys that's not all down to you so don't be so hard on yourself things happen" I reasoned

"You're right but I just can't help but feel like it's my fault especially when the last time we were here I did so much better" he said

"But that was then and now something is different which isn't in your control that is making it harder to do what you did last time" I added

"Yeah I guess" he whispered

"See that's the spirit" I said

"Thank you love you always know what to say to make me feel better" he said while pulling me close and kissing my cheek

We didn't talk anymore about it and had dinner together before sitting down to watch Netflix on my laptop while I waited to see him fall asleep just to know that he was getting at least a little sleep before tomorrow. It took him a while to fall asleep but once he was definitely asleep it took just seconds for sleep to consume me after the tiring day we've had.

~~~~~~~~~~

The morning came around very slowly as I was awake most of the night worrying about Joan and the race so I was glad when the alarm finally went off and Joan rolled over in bed to put his arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. Sadly we had to get up and thus the busy morning started and people came and went out of the motorhome making it hard to keep up with what was going on but eventually everyone left and Joan got his leathers on which I knew meant it was almost time for the race since warm up had already finished. We took a minute to ourselves and I let him do what he wanted which was just hold me in his arms and rock side to side gently until we really had to go and he kissed me sweetly before taking my hand in his and walking to the garage as I trailed behind.

All the usual pre race preparations were happening when we went in which meant calm and happy Joan disappeared and serious and nervous Joan appeared within an instant which I knew would happen but it was still sad to see after our talk last night and him feeling better this morning. I didn't bother trying to get through to him again as I knew it would make no difference at this point it was just too late. He quickly got on his bike and went out to the grid meaning it was all in his hands now and there was nothing I or anyone else could do to help him. There was complete silence in the garage as everyone waited for the lights to go out the vibes were very different to any other time I've been in the garage which is how you know it's been a hard weekend, all the usual motivation had fizzled out leaving the entire team waiting for the end so that we can move on and hope for better race next time.

The lights went out and the race was underway, the first corner was hard to watch as all the riders try and get round at the same time right next to each other which is always stressful let alone when Joan is right in the pack. Once he made it round the first few corners and everything had settled down I felt so much better that was until the third lap came around and Joan made a simple pass on Petrucci but he fell taking Petrucci with him, my heart sank but was also beating out of my chest until I saw him get up completely fine. I watched the two of them hug before making their way back to the garage which luckily wasn't far for them to go so Joan got back quickly. He walked in and the team tried to greet him but he just walked right past to put his helmet down before walking out the back of the garage to the motorhome and I even heard the door slam from the garage so he's definitely mad and very mad.

My brain was torn because I wanted to be there for him but at the same time it seemed like a bad idea if he was really that mad, while considering my options I remembered the promise I made to myself to always be there for Joan no matter what so I got up and headed out to the motorhome to be with him and keep my promise. As I opened the door I kind of regretted my choice because he was pacing back and forth with his hands in his hair which by this point was a mess from him doing the same thing over and over. He looked over when he heard me shut the door and he had pure anger in his eyes which was slightly terrifying as I've never seen him so mad before.

"Are you doing ok that looked rough" I said

"Just shut up this is all your fault whenever your around I always do badly I do better when your not here at least I can get a through to q2 without you here" he yelled

"I'm sorry but" I started

"I said shut up you're not helping you never do" he scoffed

I didn't say another word just walked out with tears brimming in my eyes and I know he's angry but I can't help but feel like deep down he meant it which is what hurts the most because I love to support him but clearly he doesn't feel the same. It was an awful feeling knowing that Joan didn't want me around and thought I wasn't helpful which hurt as I thought my pep talks before the race helped him but turns out I drop everything for no reason. Thinking about it more and more made the tears actually fall down my cheeks at a rapid pace and there was no stopping them this time, this meant people were staring at me as I walked around looking slightly concerned but ultimately didn't do anything. I was glad they didn't as I just wanted to find somewhere to be alone where I could cry in peace which is harder than it looks because there is people everywhere, in the end I walked around the entire paddock and ended up back by the motorhome where I sat on the floor with my head in knees allowing my emotions to take over.

Sitting on the floor was cold but it felt appropriate based on my mood and it was quiet which allowed me to gather my thoughts before I think about going back to talk to Joan again because as much as I don't want to we need to talk about this and either make up which is what I want to do or call it quits and move on if he really feels that way about me. Just as I was thinking about going back in I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Joan stood in front of me slightly out of breath and with red puffy eyes just like how I imagine mine look. He offered me his hand and pulled me up from the ground and without saying a word we walked back into the motorhome and sat down on the sofa to talk. His hands grabbed both of mine and rubbed the backs of them to warm them up which was nice as I was quite cold from sitting outside for so long.

"Y/n I'm really sorry about the things I said I didn't mean them I really didn't I love having you here and your pep talks is what makes me do so well in other races and the only reason I do worse when you are here is because I get too in my head about wanting to impress you" he explained

"Look Joan I appreciate you saying that but it hurt when you said you didn't like having me here" I said

"I know and I'm truly sorry I regretted saying it the second you left because it just not true I love having you around in fact I hate being away from you and I meant what I said about impressing you I feel more pressure when you're here to show you what I can really do and so we can celebrate together" he added

"Thats sweet of you but you know I just like to see you race it doesn't matter to me how you do I just like seeing you do what you love" I said

"I just want this to be over with because I hate arguing so I'm incredibly sorry for what I said it was really wrong with me and I'll do anything to make it up to you" he apologised

"I accept your apology but you don't have to do anything to make it up to me can we just cuddle in bed?" I asked

"Anything for you my love" he said

He picked me up over his shoulder and carried me to the bedroom where he put me down on the bed gently before leaving the room and coming back with snacks for us both which he put on the bed next to me as well as giving me one of his hoodies that was resting on the arm of the sofa. I put the hoodie on and snuggled myself into it taking in the smell of his cologne which I love and makes me feel close to him even when he's not around. We got under the covers and he instantly pulled me closer and put an arm around my waist which I took advantage of by resting my head on his shoulder while stealing the snacks. I did give up the snacks eventually and let him have some but he was more focused on playing with my hair and kissing my cheek periodically. It was nice to have him by my side cuddling up to each other as I fell slowly fell asleep after having a long day and going though a rollercoaster of emotions. As I fell asleep he kissed my head and whispered how much he loved me in my ear which brought a small smile to my face as sleep finally got the best of me.

[ruinaimagines]

hihihi can I get a netzachxreader scenario where netz comforts the reader after a rough day? thanks! -🦷

Hello again 🦷 anon! Of course I can. Sorry it’s been a bit late for me to get to these requests but here it is nonetheless. Enjoy!

Netzach Comforting Reader who had a Rough Day:

Everything just seems to feel so heavy today, even the tasks of which you almost never have a struggle with. Frustration seems to keep creeping up on you, leading to a stiff and irritated composure. You know these things aren’t that difficult, you’ve done them hundreds of times before, so why does everything have to feel so hard now?

It’s easy to not realize how much mood actually impacts how you perceive the environment around you. It was an unpleasant reception, a troublesome break, and now you’re left to deal with some draining book sorting. The air feels stuffy, it’s a bit too humid and hot to the point it’s uncomfortable, and it feels like even the slightest mistake is about to send you over the edge.

You know that to an outside eye it just seems like you’re being dramatic, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it just feels like every little thing is out to get you. Perhaps it was because you’re overthinking about something, or just a rude encounter left your day off to a bad start, maybe nothing specific caused this reaction.

It’s pretty easy for others to tell you’re quite tense, and you’re woefully aware of that. The reasons as to how they figured it out could range from your sluggish movement, upset expression, or general behavior. You’ve had one or two other librarians come up and ask if you’re alright, though you always keep it brief and say you’re doing okay. You don’t want to possibly drag them into the same mood as you.

You weren’t left alone for long though because a certain patron librarian seemed to be rather adamant on checking in. “..Need anything?” He enters so silently that it’s almost impossible to notice him until he speaks.

Netzach walks up to you as you sigh, exhausted even though you hardly had anything to do throughout the day. “Yeah everything’s good, just feeling a bit rocky.” You raise your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

The green haired man stares at you for a little bit before walking over and wrapping a loose arm around you. “I think it’s a bit of a gloomy day for everyone. Not gonna press ‘cause I know how annoying it is when people nag, but if anythings up you know you can come to me.”

He lazily leans his head over your shoulder, looking at the open book you picked up in your hand. He traces his eyes over the words, but hardly processes them. To him they’re all just a bunch of scribbled out letters, and it’s the same mess in your brain.

“I know, It’s honestly not too big. Today’s just kinda felt awful, and I don’t wanna pull you into things with endless complaining and ranting.” You flip a page after you finish the last, wedge a bookmark in between the papers, and clamp it shut.

Netzach hummed, a bit of an amused smile on his face as he shut his eyes, leaning into his embrace of you. “No big deal.. I mean all through being a sephirah and the beginning of this library all I really did is make people sit and listen to my woes. It’s only fair for me to hear you out.. Plus I’d rather you talk about it instead of let it be all pent up.”

Placing the closed book atop an empty shelf you returned the hug. “Guess you’re right. It honestly feels like I’m stuck in mud, just taking one step is extremely and unnecessarily exhausting. It’s like I’m tired, but I don’t even know why. My focus has been terrible, and that’s only made things worse because now every little thing irritates me. I want to have a moment to breathe, but when I even try it just feels like the air is so suffocating. Everything’s just building up and I feel like I’m ready to burst.”

He’s a good listener and he only tightens his hold when he hears the words spill out of your mouth. From the start of your morning to the moment you’re standing there, every detail is revealed. It does feel a bit relieving to let off some pressure, but you’re still overwhelmed.

He doesn’t speak until you’ve stopped, not wanting to interrupt you as you speak. “Honestly? A lot of the time I feel the exact same way. Feels like you just wanna give up ‘cause when you’re trying it’s like every little thing is going astray. It isn’t good to discredit how you feel though, even if it’s over something minimal. If you wanna cry then do so, I mean I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve broken down.” There was another slightly entertained smile on his face, one that wasn’t extremely happy, but not too bittersweet either. “I mean you’ve experienced it, the whole ‘Sephirah meltdown’. I Was not in a good place. But look at me now, I’m still here, yeah?”

His voice travels in a light tone, one that’s a bit slow but also comforting. “‘Point I’m trying to make is that you shouldn’t feel alone or bad when things suck, ‘cause they do suck sometimes. You’re not alone, you got me and plenty others. Why not take a little break?.. I’m not the best at making drinks, but I can try to make you some tea. ‘Promise I’ll try not to burn the water.”

For as pessimistic as he is, he sure is quite capable of cheering someone up. You continue to hold onto him before departing and sliding into a chair. Your posture is miserable as you’re halfway slanted in your seating, but it doesn’t matter to you.

“You know what? Why not? Maybe something warm can help clear up the fog in my head.” Perhaps a drink could also help smooth out your senses and give you a moment to sit and recuperate your energy. Before the patron librarian left though, you had one more question to ask. “Hey Netzach, do you think Angela would kill us if we took a walk around the library? I just need to get out of this place, a change of scenery and some fresher air could be nice.”

He responds rather nonchalantly, not concerned by your question at all. “Eh, we’ll be good. I mean, I somehow get away with sleeping on the job all the time.. Doubt we’ll be punished for walking around.. We could say that we’re delivering a message to another librarian and that should work… given that she’s not listening right now.”

There’s a looming moment of silence as you both wait in anticipation for Angela to pop up out of nowhere through the sound of snapping fingers as she usually does. However after there seems to be no such event, the two of you shrug.

“Sounds good! And thank you for listening, I know you say it’s not much for you to do, but it means a lot for me.” It would feel wrong for you to not show some form of appreciation.

“Of course, anytime.” He nods with a loose wave, one of his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’ll be back soon, you just rest up.”

[opheliawillowbrook]

How the Cookie Crumbles

To say his brothers fought would be an understatement: They warred. That. That was the better word. However, it was Dick who was the peacemaker among them. The mediator extraordinaire, translating all his brothers’ woes and misunderstandings into less doom-pending transgressions. But to say this unofficial, yet very necessary part he played was tasking was yet another understatement of unspeakable proportions. It was a FUCKING LOT.

“I swear to God, Drake. You and Brown are a special kind of stupid.”

“Shut up, Damian! It’s a good idea!” Tim grumbled in reply.

“Yeah! You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first!”

Dick’s face fell upon hearing the argument and considered turning the other way, but he’d learned the hard way that his lack of interference could result in bloodshed. Damian did have a history of stabbing Tim, and Robin had an impressive body count, according to Jason. I’d better  make sure he doesn’t add two more.

“Well, fuck me and my  entire life,” Dick droned in frustration. “What are you three bitching about now?”

“Damian keeps saying our idea is stupid,” Stephanie tattled.

“Yeah!” Tim added with crossed arms. “He says we lack the fortitude for good ideas!”

“You do!” the current robin exclaimed.

“Damian?”

The youngest batboy rolled his eyes and reasoned, “Listen, I know these two brain donors barely have two brain cells to rub between them—”

“That’s not the only thing they rub!” Jason called from the other room.

Damian again rolled his eyes in contempt and continued, “And I’ve accepted, as a member of this family, that everyone gets to act a little stupid from time to time. However, as much as I would like to respect their commitment to their shared stupidity, I feel as if they are abusing the privilege and it needs to stop before one of them gets hurt.”

“Wow, he actually cares,” Jason added from still in another room.

“Have you been sitting there listening the whole time?” Dick asked, near facepalm.

“Affirmative,” Jason confirmed, entering from the hall.

“And you did nothing to stop them fighting?”

“It’s funnier this way.”

“Do I always have to be the responsible one?”

“Affirmative,” all four said with little thought.

“Okay then,” Dick sighed with reluctance. “Damian, I know you find it hard to accept the choices of others, but you need to understand that free choice and expression is about accepting that others may not make the same choices as you, and that’s okay. It’s the same as you choosing not to take my dating advice and ask Raven out because you’re afraid of rejection—”

“Shut up, Grayson! This isn’t about me!!!” Damian spat.

“Damian has the hots for Raven?” Jason teased. “You have good taste, Mighty Mouse. She got a great—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Todd!” Dick and Damian ordered in unison.

“I was gonna say personality,” Jason droned. “Get your minds out of the gutter. I mean for fuck’ sake.”

“Sure you were,” Tim replied with a glower.

“Yeah Tim, cause you never stare at her tits while you talk to her,” Jason added, throwing him doubly under the bus.

“Dude, are you trying to get me killed?” Tim said, shooting an elbow into his brother’s ribs as Damian and Stephanie both glared. Spurring Dick into a further mood for murder.

“My point being is, just because you don’t like other peoples’ ideas, doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”

“Tell them the idea, guys!” Jason urged, stirring the pot.

Stephanie and Tim looked at each other and nodded, as though they’d discovered the holy grail itself. “We’re gonna write a series of YA novels and sell them on the web!” Steph sang optimistically.

“Yeah, it’s a huge and diverse market,” Tim added.

“And with established characters, we’ll make a killing.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like fanfiction?”

“It sounds like utter bullshit,” Damian sneered, not single fuck given.

“It’s not bullshit,” Tim snapped. “YA novels make up a huge portion of the market. People love those things.”

“Then name one YA novel that has sold more than a manga in the last 10 years?”

Tim shrugged. “I can’t think of one at the top of my head, but there they definitely exist and sell.”

“Yeah, so does my fanfiction based on this family,” Jason added under his breath.

“What?” Everyone asked.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“So anyway, I told Damian it’s a foolproof plan.”

Dick rolled his eyes with a bit of doubt, but who was he to judge or discourage their creativity. I mean, he dropped out of college after all? “I’m not saying I believe it’s bulletproof, because frankly, nothing is. But I’m curious why you would consider telling Damian? I mean, he hates most things.”

“And Drake. I hate Drake.”

“We’re all very aware, Dami,” Dick drawled in annoyance. “But yeah, why would you tell him anything important to you? Especially that?”

“Well, we kinda needed a loan. I knew Bruce would undoubtedly say no and, well, Damian has money.”

“Because I make good business decisions.”

“I don’t know why I thought of asking you?”

“You didn’t, Jason told you to,” Stephanie confessed, recalling an earlier conversation.

“Jason, really?” Dick tsked.

“Hey, Damian does make good business decisions. Who do you think cleans and invests money? It’s certainly not Alfred.”

“Because Alfred would have nothing to do with your blood money, Jason. And Damian, I’m very disappointed in you!”

“Grayson, I don’t know what high horse you are riding on today, but you better come off it. Father told me if I wanted money, that I needed to earn it and that I should get a job. So I got one.”

“Laundering money for Red Hood’s criminal Enterprise is not a job!”

“Actually it is. Mighty Mouse made us an LLC and everything. I own several Wash & Folds, all legitimate! Thanks to Hell Spawn here! I’m actually considering making him a partner.”

“So will your LLC fund our YA Novels?”

“Oh fuck no!”

“Come on, Jay! We have a solid business plan,” Stephanie pleased.

“You’re business plan is a bunch of meaningless numbers written on the back of a napkin and poorly illustrated versions of us,” Damian said, holding up the napkin in question.

“Okay, so it’s not the final draft, but we’re working on it!” Tim said pointedly.

“Yeah, as tempting as this all sounds, I didn’t make my money making half baked business decisions,” Jason reasoned

“No, you made it by taking over Gotham’s drug trade,” Dick clarified with disapproval.

“Which was a solid business decision.”

“Why do I even talk to you?”

“I don’t know why I talk to any of you,” Damian scowled, arms crossed, grateful there was no shared genetics between him and his adoptive kin. “I don’t understand what father saw in any of you.

“I can’t answer that,” Jason replied. “However, I can tell you, from personal experience, what he saw in your mom.”

“Do you wanna die, Todd?”

“Do you wanna not have a job?” Jason wanted. “Also, been there done that. But hey, if I died twice then I’d have buffy status so don’t threaten me with a good time, kid.”

“On that note, I’m leaving,” Damian grimaced. “I have to meet Raven, anyway.”

“Oh,” Dick sang. “You have a date!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Bet you wish it was a date,” Stephanie teased. “Y’know, if you just stopped acting like a dick all the time, I bet she’d go out with you.”

“Shut up, Brown.”

“Oh no,” Dick smiled. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s nice to Raven.”

“Hey keep that shit up,” Jason added. “If you’re nice to her, she’d be nice to you!”

“I hate all of you,” Damian proclaimed and stormed away.

“Fuck you too! See you at work Monday! Jason called, earning a tiger middle finger.

“He might be an asshole, but he’s a good kid,” Jason nodded with a sense of pride, causing to Dick to silently scoff. “Still needs to get laid though.”

“Bruce is gonna be so pissed when he finds out you pulled Dami into your bullshit.”

“You’re using Raven’s pet name for him now?” Jason mocked. “And fucker’s gonna have to prove it first; there’s a reason I hired ‘Dami’ for that job.”

“Dude, fuck you; dig your grave,” Dick lamented. “And don’t come at me with one of your tired ass death jokes, they’re getting old.”

“Suit yourself,” the Outlaw glowered as silence set in.

“So Dick,” Tim dared sheepishly. “You, um, wanna invest in--”

“Absolutely not,” the elder hero replied.

Leaving Jason to chuckle. “And that’s the way the cookie crumbled.”

If you enjoyed that feel free to leave me kudos 👉 here on Ao3 lol. If you have any remdom prompts send them my way; maybe I’ll feel inspired 😘