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#i think its a waste of time

skeelly · 5 months

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i accept defeat already. i am NOT memorizing basketball court measurements.

#kristenstedtalk #like no #absolutely not #fine #maybe ill try #but no #i think its a waste of time #so no #but i dont wanna fail..#no.

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kaeyachi · 3 months

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Kaeya had always been an efficient and hard-working individual (he had to be to support Diluc in the background as his brother rose thru the ranks after all).

He has so much free time because he completes all his work way ahead of schedule. And if he still has enough time, he adds more to the workload in secret.

And once all of that was done and over with, he makes time for everyone. He has to. He feels as if every moment has to be given to someone else.

No one knows how he does it. No one has to know.

Every mission has a dozen strategies in line, and every battle plan is made with efficiency in mind. His perfect record will not be tarnished. He can't risk it (even if it baffles others that he would willingly activate a ruin guard just to prevent a failed mission. Jean disagrees with his methods, but Kaeya can say that the results say otherwise)

He needs to be quick.

Efficient.

Perfect.

And so he comes and goes like the wind.

Kaeya values time because he knew every second counted. He can't just stand there as if he were frozen. Time could run out in an instant.

Kaeya had only been late once his entire life.

He'd rather he never be late ever again.

It took one day of being of being imperfect for everything to fall apart. On that tragic day...had he gotten there on time... then maybe...

" Come on, let's get moving, traveler. We're not frozen in place after all. " Kaeya teasingly says. He stiffles a giggle at the traveler's exhasperated sigh.

"Yeah yeah, we've heard enough of you calling us a slacker. Can't you be a bit more patient?" Paimon whines at him.

Kaeya snorts, but acquiesces, hiding the shaking of his hands at the thought of being idle.

He imagines hearing a clock ticking.

Kaeya knows that that is his own problem. He tries his hardest to relax as he waits for the traveler to finish whatever they're making on the alchemy table because, seriously, it is supposed to be a relaxing day. There's nothing major going on, and his schedule is once again empty as intended. What's the hurry?

Kaeya taps his foot on the ground as he waits. He wishes he could take his own damn advice when he tells others to relax.

#kaeyachi randoms #kaeya #kaeya alberich #this is actually shorter than it originally was can yall believe?#kaeya with anxiety truther there i said it #kaeya cant stand being IDLE #get it? get it?#you see that is a play of words in reference to when he is stood idle on our screens. he is one of the more verbally impatient characters #and we also see it reflected on his actions both in fighting and at work. he has a speed boost bonus and if he isnt teleporting he is #actually moving so fast that he seems like it. this is what i also concluded that results him in large amounts of free time that only amber #seemed to be hardpressed about. the people of mondstadt find him reliable and approachable despite the lax attitude and frequent nights at #angels share. we also had lore tidbits before of kaeya straight up saying he finished all his work and jean saying that he also did the #backlogged ones. It is actually insane that we hear him relaxing frequently and i bet its not because of the lack of horses COZ LOOK AT HOW #BUSY THE OTHER CAPTAINS ARE. Also id like to think that he is a toned down noelle and that is why jean told him to watch over her training #give us noelle and kaeya interactions pls i kinda need it tbh #to all those that reached this far into the notes i actually have more to say so get ready #if it wasnt clear the only day he was late was when crepus died. everything fell apart for him that day so i can see some obsessive need to #just keep running around and doing things as efficient as possible. I also think that he found the knights slow and inefficient in several #occasions and he is willing to put them in the line of fire just to get their hearts pumping with adrenaline (and fear lol). idk kaeya is #just so anxiety-coded. impatience-core. Mr. dont waste my time type of guy. and also wow look i found a way to make his idles become angst #silly me ehe #oh youre still here? how about i tell you that kaeya-efficiency-alberich probably knows where everyone is at any time of the day?#can we honestly please give him more free time i need more of him tbh #fun reminder that bro is working around 3-4 jobs casually lmao #i also just realized that the notes is a whole nother post on its own #AND THE ACTUAL FUNNY PART IS I CAN STILL ELABORATE MORE ON THIS LMAO #wait let me add this one tiny idea too but he thinks time is so valuable. bro lost 2 dads and lost time with his bro + he significantly #lessened his time at dawn winery for quite some time. i can see why he is extroverted now.

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ganondoodle · 23 days

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struggeling to draw anything for the totk rewrite bc i know the most popular stuff is some cool cutscenes or something and me working on detailed mechanics is mostly a waste of time :/

like i have alot of stuff worked out by now but it would take ages to draw concepts for all those new menus and mechanics when few people are interested in that- and while making a giant text post about it would be more efficient ... who the hell would read all that ._.

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rewites totk #its pretty demotivating that alot of work i do for it is gonna go unnoticed #while some vague idea with little info of how its actually gonna go is gonna make the rounds much more #... this is in part bc the og idea of villain rauru post thing kinda blew up #.. blew up as in i got like 2k likes and over 40 comments on it on twitter #on tumblr is got over 1k notes which is also rather unusual #which is attention my art hasnt gotten in ages #i had gotten used to only having below that numbers on anythign i did #and it both motivated me to work and think about this so much more #but now its all falling into the 'feels like wasted time' category

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i-am-dulaman · 5 months

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Why I hate Golf

This is the Takapuna Golf Course in Auckland, New Zealand.

It is in the middle of Auckland's north shore suburbs.

According to their website, they are one of the most popular golf courses in Aotearoa and have an annual visitor count of 60,000 people. They don't clarify if that is individual unique visitors or recounts, but lets be generous and say its unique visitors. 60,000, not bad.

This is Eden Park Stadium (the little square on the right) and oh look there's another golf course on the left there, ignore that one for now.

(the above two images are at the same scale)

Eden park has a capacity of 50,000 people. Ed Sheeran was here earlier this year and sold out the two nights he performed. That's 100,000 people in a weekend all in that little red square. 60,000 in a year no longer seems so great.

60,000 people per year is also only 160 people per day. 160 visitors to a golf course that is 470,000 square meters in area. Now the average property size in Auckland is 500 square meters. So the golf course takes up the area of 940 houses.

940 homes worth of land for 160 people.

And that is Auckland housing sizes. Auckland is horribly designed and very spread out. Let's instead look at Barcelona, considered one of the most well designed cities in the world.

This is Takapuna golf course side by side with Barcelona

(The scale is as close to being equal as I could get them, I don't have ArcGIS data for Barcelona so had to use google maps)

Each red square overlaid on Takapuna Golf Course is exactly 133m in height/width, the same size as each city block in Barcelona, road width included.

There are 23 Barcelona blocks worth of space in Takapuna Golf Course with room to spare. About 640 people live in each Barcelona block, that's 15000 people.

15000 peoples worth of homes and living spaces, sacrificed so 160 people can play golf in a day.

Now this is just one golf course in a big city, what's 15,000 people to a city of 1.6 million, who cares right?

Here is a wider shot of Auckland City.

Those red dots? They're golf courses.

There are 16 golf courses inside the metropolitan area of Auckland City (4 not pictured as Auckland is too spread out to get one clean screenshot). Keep in mind these are not rural golf courses out in the country, these are right beside housing developments and shopping malls. And for the record I could not find a single golf course in the Barcelona metropolitan area, you had to go out into the country before finding one.

So lets multiply that 15,000 people by 16 golf courses?

240,000 people.

With Auckland City's golf courses you could house 240,000 people comfortably with some good urban planning.

That is why I hate golf.

#For the record I'm not 100% against golf I just think if you have the time to play the most boring sport in the world #Then you also have time to drive 30 minutes out into the country side to play it #golf courses water usage is a whole other story but they aren't uniquely wasteful so thats why I havent mentioned that #golf courses in dry areas with water shortages are even worse than a waste of space and it doesnt matter if theyre urban or rural #but for golf courses in a place like auckland theyre water usage is generally fine and its the waste of land use that bothers me so #Auckland #New Zealand #Aotearoa #Golf #Barcelona #Why i hate golf #golf hate

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slicznymartwy · 9 months

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I’m not sure if your comfortable with it, but if it’s alright, can I request Billy Lenz and the reader (established relationship) having some sort of conversation on his past and the reader comforting him?

this one is rlly sad im sorry :(( this is mostly hc since i've only ever watched the original 1974 film, so idk if this lines up with the canon from the other movies. from what i know about it, i think it's similar. no mention of agnes in this warning: sa of a minor mention, please do not read if that bothers you. also, reader insert was abused/beaten by their mom. very sad take care of yourselves please

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

Night fills your bedroom and coats itself on the floors and walls, except for where the yellow streetlamp spills in past your curtains. Sparing a glance to the alarm clock on your bedside table, you see the time is so late it could already be considered early.

Still, you can’t think about sleep; not when Billy is laying beside you and the house is blissfully empty, two things so rare that it almost seems serendipitous. You’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you keep staring at the ceiling and let the warmth of his body radiate into yours.

“Billy,” you whisper into the quiet room. “Are you asleep?”

You can hear him grunt and squirm beside you, and you feel bad for waking him. It wasn’t often he got a full night’s rest on a bed, and you knew for a fact that there was no mattress in the attic. There were only so many chances to have Billy and the house all to yourself, though, and you don’t want to squander it.

“Billy,” you say again, nudging him with your foot.

He grunts again, but it sounds more cognisant than before. He reaches over himself to pat your arm, almost like he’s quieting down a noisy cat, and you can feel his hand trail down to your own. His palm covers the back of your hand, and he threads his fingers in between yours, curling them down together.

It’s a gesture so sweet that you’re tempted to let him fall back asleep. There’s no helping your addiction to him, though, and you tighten your fingers on top of his.

“I’m not tired,” you say with a pout. “I wanna talk.”

This time, Billy groans, low and long. You think it might be out of annoyance, but you can feel him stretching out beside you, straightening his long legs underneath the covers. He huffs when he’s done, eyes blinking open.

You love his pretty eyes, an orangey amber that you were always getting lost in, no matter how unsettling they could be. It always felt like he was staring into you, like he could see the marrow in your bones.

You loved his intensity. It made you feel alive when the rest of the world was tired and grey.

“Hi,” you say, reaching over with you unoccupied hand to touch his jaw. “I didn’t ask before. How was your day?”

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder if he can fall asleep with his eyes open, but then he says, “Bad.”

The word hangs in the air. Billy’s face gives up nothing, a blank page with no words of his own to say. You frown and pull your hand back from his face to rest on your own chest. The other stays in his hold, neither of you willing to let go.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, although it doesn’t surprise you when Billy shakes his head against your pillow.

“Okay.” You squeeze against his fingers again, pulling gently on his arm so that it rested more heavily on top of you. The bedroom air is quiet, but your mind continues to race. It’ll be good for him to get it off his chest, you tell yourself.

“Is it something old or something new?”

He thinks about your words for a while, but then you hear him mutter, “Old.”

“Bad memories?” you ask, looking back at him. He blinks at you, then nods.

“I get bad memories, too.” You lean against him slightly, and glance up at the ceiling. “From when you were a kid?”

This time, Billy shrugs. You know you shouldn’t push him, but your heart aches to see him hurt and to not have the rememdy.

You turn around and let go of him for only a moment. You search for his hand again, this time with the opposite one to press your hands together, palm to palm. Your fingers entwine so easily, so naturally, that it makes your heart ache.

Maybe he just needs to know he’s not alone in whatever bullshit he’s had to endure in his life. Maybe it will help to know that you have bad memories too.

“My mom used to hit me,” you admit quietly. You stare at the way your hands mesh together, with your nails polished and Billy’s own chewed up. “She used to take my stepdad’s belt and hit me with it. Used to just be the leather part, but then she would swing the buckle at me too. She broke a tooth, but it was just a baby one. My adult teeth grew in alright.”

You keep your voice casual as you speak, because facts are facts, and there’s no reason to get upset about something you can’t change anymore. Besides, you reminesce about your childhood so infrequently that it feels like it all happened to another person.

You remember the beatings like you’re watching it happen to someone else – something else, because you don’t feel bad for them when they can’t sit at school because of the welts on their ass. You don’t bat an eye when their mom has to take them to the doctor to reset their broken nose.

“Bitch,” Billy spits out from beside you, and you have to laugh at the venom dripping in his voice.

“I don’t talk to her anymore,” you tell him, smiling sadly. You glance at him, but it’s hard to look at the mean look on his face. It probably isn’t for you, but your mind is traitorous and too sensitive.

Even worse, Billy could be mad on your behalf. No, you can’t think about that either, not when you’ve spent so long pretending that it didn’t really happen.

“Anyways. All that to say, I know what it’s like, having bad memories. You don’t have to tell me, just… I’m here for you,” you say, running your thumb along his hand where they’re still locked together.

“Want to,” he mutters, voice croaking unnaturally as he speaks in his own voice.

Quietly, you release his hand and instead wrap yourself around him, laying partially on top. He lets out a heavy sigh as you settle, with your arm coming up to rest by his head and your same-side leg resting over his hips. He watches the ceiling, and you watch his face from where you lay your ear to his chest

“Bad billy. Disgusting,” he mutters, and you pet his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You keep your voice careful and quiet, but he sighs and its agitated. Pent up memories start to overfill, and you can see it on his face.

“Mommy,” he starts, but his voice breaks and he coughs to clear his throat. “Mom. Fucking hate her. I hate her. Stupid fucking slut. She’s disgusting. Not me. Not Billy.”

You take your hand away from his face, watching how his expression continues to contort, mixing between anger and disgust and fear. It wrenches your heart in your chest.

“You’ve been so good, Billy. You’re not disgusting.”

“I hate her. I hate her,” he chants again. “Oh, Billy! Shut up!”

When he says his own name, it sounds like a feminine moan. You almost don’t understand, but the implication dawns on you only a moment later. It’s not difficult to piece it all together: his rage, the names he calls himself, the moan. You feel sick.

“Hey, we can stop,” you try gently, but Billy either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t want to stop.

“No one needs to know, Billy. Be a good boy.” You can’t look at his face anymore, the ugly way it scrunches up hurts you down to you core. Guilt claws at you from inside, and you wish you knew the right thing to say but you don’t. The truth, you decide, is enough for now.

“I hate her, too,” you tell him, and it sounds a little wet. You don’t let yourself cry, but your heart breaks for a younger Billy, afraid and confused.

“That’s my mom,” he says. You don’t know what he’s trying to convey when he says that – if he wants you to pity her, or if he’s sharing his betrayal with you. He whines, a painfully soft noise that gets trapped in his throat.

Gently, carefully, you card your fingers through his hair where you can reach, and you kiss his shoulder.

“She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore,” you tell him, although you don’t know if it’s true. You do know that, as long as you’re by his side, there’s no way you’ll let that woman touch him again.

“I wish I could kill her,” he says through clenched teeth. His voice is thick, like he might be crying. You can’t bare to look. Billy’s grief melts into you like it’s thermodynamics, heat into cold, and you can only hope that you can take some of his and ease his mind.

“How would you do it?” you whisper, pressing your hand over his hammering chest.

“Cut… cut her head off. Smash it like a pumpkin. Oh, Billy! Good boy, Billy. Shut up!” His voice breaks when he shouts. He coughs, then gasps for air, his breath shaking as he fights against the tightenness in his throat. “I’ll turn her teeth into pumpkin seeds,” he snarls.

Without warning, you move yourself to lay completely on top of him, pressing against his body with your body weight. He groans, and you’re sure you must be squishing him, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, his arms come up around you, hooked under your arms and pressing you against him with his hands at your shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” you tell him, pressing your face against his neck. “You’re okay now. It’s just us in here. Just me and you.”

“I hate her,” he whimpers again. “I hate her. I hate her.”

You don’t say anything, because you don’t think there are any words that could possible take away his hurt without also being a complete lie. Underneath your body, you can feel Billy start to relax, grounded back to reality from the rotten memories playing in his head.

“I’m sorry today was a bad day. We can have a good one tomorrow,” you say. It’s an impossible thing to promise, but you mean it like one. You’ll make sure Billy has a good day, whether fate wants it or not.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll kill your mom too.”

“Thank you,” you say. You kiss his temple, and he leans into your lips.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

#billy lenz #black christmas (1974)#billy lenz x reader #slasher x reader #₊*. ⋆༘ — requests #i'm sorry if the pov changes anywhere accidentally #please ignore if i accidentally left in a 1st person pov mention i think i fixed most of it #if not .. forgive me pls #i shouldnt admit this but ive been messing around on c.ai #but its the worst thing ever idk why people rave about it #writing ur own fanfic >>>>>#its such a waste of time refreshing for a better response #when i know what i want them to say .. its just letting people be lazy #i want to shake everyone using it and tell them to just write their own stuff #its so much more rewarding #anyways i am ovulating and thinking about cod men .. its a terrible curse idk why i let this happen

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aurorangen · 4 months

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Travelling from the big city all the way to the English countryside to solve the missing lettuce case. Bless this old lady!

Transcript:

[Noah holds in his laughter and avoids eye contact with the old lady while Renee, looking down, is too shocked to speak, Like the team leader he is, only Darius keeps a serious face and continues the questioning] Darius: Excuse me, Ma'am. Please could you repeat that for us? [very confused] What exactly happened?

Carla: I woke up and brushed my teeth. Put the kettle on for a morning brew. Ah! Do you fancy a cuppa dear? Darius: [politely declines] We are fine thank you. Ma'am, could you skip to when you found out? Carla: Of course [thinks back carefully] I'm devastated to say someone has stolen my prized possession.

Carla: My giant lettuce is missing.

#ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #postcard legacy #postcard gen 3 #renee reichmann #noah ngata #darius monet #she mustve dialled wrong station panicked and didnt share all details #bless her #idk what im doing ok!!#thinking of useless cases #and this is what comes to mind lmao #renees not too happy oops #i mean its wasting time she wants to solve “real” cases this isnt it!!!#im not rly inspired atm but im having fun visiting henford on bagley

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cemeterything · 1 year

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patting myself on the back for enforcing the most basic of boundaries with my mother by refusing to talk to her until tomorrow after she tried to insist on calling me for the fourth time today in as many hours because i'm sick and she wants to "check up" on me. this is why i don't talk to you unless i have to!!! because you'll use any excuse to be up in my business every 5 minutes and make me feel like you think i'm 2 years old and incapable of taking care of myself!!!

#🐉#like shes absolutely OBSESSED with my health to an insane degree because shes one of those alternative medicine types #and every time i so much as mention i have a headache its all that she can think about for the rest of the week #and it becomes her mission to obsess over my symptoms until she either wears me down into letting her send me her stupid sugar pills #and essential oils (which i never use so i hate the waste) or i tell her to get off my back #ughhhhhh i swear to god if she tries to treat me like a child when i visit im going to tell her my honest feelings and i know #she wont love that

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