#and don't know a whole ton about the others

[vivitalks]

man. derek is such an interesting character in season 1, especially when you can look at him through the lens of having seen the whole show, because he's like an unreliable narrator for scott, even though he's not a narrator for the show.

the thing is, derek in season 1 is the primary vehicle for werewolf lore. as new viewers, we're reliant on his character to explain to us the rules and conceits of the genre, but once you've seen the whole show, that role is no longer necessary. but for scott, in season 1, derek is the sole source of werewolf intel. derek is werewolf jesus. which means that everything scott initially learns about being a werewolf is filtered through the Derek Hale Trauma Matrix, and neither of them know it.

for example: in 1x05, derek tells scott that pain is what keeps you human (which is a mantra that gets repeated and referenced a ton over the course of the rest of the show). scott has been a werewolf for all of five seconds, and has no choice but to take the word of this obviously much more knowledgeable werewolf. in that way, derek operates as a kind of narrator for scott, giving him information and context he couldn't really get any other way. but it's unreliable info. don't get me wrong - derek isn't trying to be an unreliable narrator; he's not aware of how much his life experience has colored his understanding of his own species. it's just that...well...derek is a twenty-something with the kind of trauma that eats other trauma for breakfast. of course he would say that pain is what keeps you human. at this point in the show, pain is all he has.

this is the same guy who, in the next episode, says this:

DEREK: You getting angry? That's your first lesson. You want to learn how to control this, how to shift-- you do it through anger, by tapping into a primal animal rage, and you can't do that with her around. SCOTT: [defensively] I can get angry. DEREK: Not angry enough. This is the only way that I can teach you.

except we know, and scott quickly learns (in that very same episode, in fact), that this isn't true. anger doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't work for scott, who's not an angry person. the things that work for derek won't work for all werewolves - but how would derek know that? he's never had to teach someone to be a werewolf before. he's not actually werewolf jesus.

to scott, derek is the only trustworthy source of information on being a werewolf, because he's the only werewolf scott knows. and from derek's perspective, everything he knows about being a werewolf must be true, because it's true for him. derek is the narrator, and it's only as his backstory unfolds that the viewers, and scott, learn just how much his history and trauma have obscured the reality of things, even for derek himself.

pain is not what makes you human. it's what makes derek human. because the moments in derek's life that stand out to him most are all tinged with tragedy. mercy killing his high school girlfriend. losing his entire family in a house fire. the death of his sister. for derek, to be human is to be in pain, and to be angry about that is the only way to be in control. after all, he doesn't have anyone teaching him otherwise.

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Crash & Burn - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Vi's memory plays tricks on her. Or Silco does.

tw: war, violence, aftermath of bloodshed, childhood trauma, PTSD

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Powder loved bundt cake.

Every year, at the Equinox Bazaar, she'd beg Mom for a slice from the stalls, even though coins were scarce. At Janna's Temple, she would sneak off and steal a piece from the open kitchens, despite knowing Mom would tan her hide if she found out. Or, if they had flour and sugar and time she'd beg Mom to bake it from scratch, and it was always the sweetest.

Then Mom stopped baking.

In the lean months before the Day of Ash, sugar was sold for six cogs a thimble. In a week, it cost ten. In a month, thirty. The price of survival doubled and redoubled. Soon, the bakeries could barely keep up. Then, there were no more bakeries: just shuttered windows and empty stalls. And then, no more Equinox Bazaars. No more open kitchens.

No Temple of Janna.

Some nights, Vi would've given anything for the taste of sugar on her palate. Nights when she and Powder would lay huddled face-to-face in bed, and talk of anything—anything but hunger. Other nights, the hunger was all they could think about, and they'd trade whispers about all the things they'd eat if they could. Vi had her favorites: a hot bowl of sump-vole stew, or a whole roasted squab, or creamy butter biscuits. Powder had her favorite too: bundt cake, bundt cake and more bundt cake.

"The way Mommy makes it is the best," she'd say, back when they had a mommy who could make bundt cake. "It's all crispy at the bottom, and soft and warm at the top. And when you bite into it, it's like a cloud. A fluffy, sweet, melty cloud."

"Powder, stop." Groaning, Vi would drag a pillow over her face. "You're making me hungry!"

"But it's so yummy. It's better than yummy. It's the bundist bundt cake ever."

"It is. But we can't have it. Not now."

"Why not?"

The plaintive quaver in her little sister's voice was the only thing that could drag the pillow off Vi's face.

"Because—because it's hard to buy stuff. Mom told us: everything is getting too pricey. And most shops don't sell sugar or flour or eggs, anymore. So..."

"But once we have money, we can have it?"

"Sure," Vi would say, even though the lie hurt worse than the hunger. "We'd have all the cake we want."

Powder's little pink tongue would peep out between her teeth: the childish ardency in her expression was like someone wishing upon a shooting star.

"I'll make us money," she'd say. "Tons of it."

"How?"

"With my drawlings—" drawings "—and inventions and stuff. That's how."

Smiling, Vi would reach out to tweak her baby sister's nose. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. And we'll have bundt cake every day. For breakfast and lunch and dinner. We'll have a huge stack of cakes, as tall as a building."

"We will, Pow." Vi's smile hurt worse than the lie, because she knew how much Powder wanted it to be true. "One day, we'll have it all."

And, as days came and went, they got their wish.

At a price.

On the Day of Ash—the eve of the uprising—everyone gathered at the Last Drop. They'd attended as family: merchants, miscreants, mendicants, shoulder-to-shoulder. That was the dream: a city of equals. A nation unto itself. They'd sat at Vander's scarred wooden table, elbows polishing the edges. There were bowls of mushroom stew thickened with cream, and platters of boiled greens, and crusty brown rolls still steaming from the oven.

And there was bundt cake. A golden wheel as big as a wagon's, crowned with sugar icing.

In retrospect, the repast must've cost a fortune. The Lanes were in a stranglehold of rations. Vander must've pulled strings to get the supplies shipped in from the black markets. But that was Vander for you. When times got tough, he'd put the screws on. He'd bend the world to his will.

Anything to keep the Fissurefolk happy.

"This is our year," he'd said, holding the carving knife aloft. "Tonight, we'll fight. We'll win. And when the sun rises, this city will be ours."

The room erupted into cheers, and the beating of fists on wood. Vander had carved the first slice. It was so soft the knife sunk in like butter. He'd passed it to Mom, who'd broken it in half, and then passed it on to Vi, who'd split her half into quarters, to share with Powder. The cake was just as it should be: soft and fragrant and sweet.

Vi let it melt in slow-motion on her mouth, and thought, This is what life'll be like.

When the Lanes are free.

When the city's ours.

She and Powder had stuffed themselves until their cheeks bulged. Mom hadn't paid them mind. She and Dad were neck-deep in conversation. Vi remembered little beyond the low cadences of their voices, and the furtive glances they kept trading. The rest of the Drop was oddly quiet too. Ordinarily, such large gatherings presaged festive tavern ditties, foot-stomping reels and overflowing laughter.

Not that night.

That night, there was silence, and the occasional scrape of knives on plates. When they did talk, the pitch was barely above whispers, as if the walls might have ears.

As if death was on the prowl, beyond the bright ambit of their table.

Afterward, the plates were cleared, the tankards drained. Dad, humid-eyed and gravel-voiced, swept both Vi and Powder into his lap. A surprise. He was a deeply giving man: the type to turn his pockets inside-out if you were in a pinch. But he wasn't demonstrative. That was mom's purview.

That night, though, he'd been uncharacteristically touchy. He'd also smelled, for some reason, like metal polish. As if he'd spent the evening cleaning a gun.

He'd kissed them both, and ruffled their hair. Vi had noticed the tremor in his hand.

"Look out for your sister, eh?" he'd told Vi. "Keep her out of trouble."

By late evening, Mom had folded two slices of bundt cake into a napkin, and stowed it away in Vi's rucksack. Taking both Vi and Powder by the hand, she'd guided them down to the Drop's cellar. Inside, there were a gaggle of other children, and a few old-timers. Vi remembers glimpsing a knobbly-kneed boy her own age, with a bristling dark mane of hair and teeth too big for his mouth. Mylo. And next to him, the same age, a stout, square-faced boy with solemn eyes. Claggor.

Two strangers who would, in time, become the brothers of her heart.

But not yet. Not then.

That night, they were no more than strangers. The cellar was stuffy with them: thick with the staleness of tight-packed bodies and too many fogged breaths.

"This is a hiding place," Mom explained. "You'll be safe here."

"Safe from what?" Vi asked.

Mom hadn't answered. Perching on the staircase, she'd gathered her daughters close. Her features were composed. But her smile seemed screwed on too tight. Vi remembers how hard she'd squeezed her and Powder. Remembers the skid of her heartbeat, and the acrid sting of metal polish that clung to her clothes beneath her usual fruit-punch fragrance.

Just like Dad.

Above, Vi heard the rhythmic click-click-click like keys sliding home in locks. Only afterward had she understood it was rifle-bolts.

Mom had kissed her and Powder, three times each. Then, as the moon rose at the casement window, she'd bid them goodnight. Rising, she'd mounted the stairs to where a man waited, hands in pockets, his features shadowed with a hangdog grimness.

Vi had thought it was Dad: they had a similar build. But the man was smoking a brightleaf cigarillo, and Vi couldn't recall Dad ever touching the stuff.

Through the halo of smoke, his eyes met Vi's. Lips quirking, he flicked his cigarillo, and the glowing ember spun, spiraling down. Vi remembers how it hit the floorboards, and sparked like a tiny orange star, before winking out of existence.

And something strange, an epiphany in reverse, crept through her.

She knew then.

Knew, with the certainty only a child can possess, that something bad was coming.

"Look out for yourself, Pet," the man called out.

The timbre of his voice was weirdly familiar. Like a dream spun with motes of half-dissolved memory.

Then the cellar door swung shut.

The lantern were dimmed, one by one. The cellar plunged into gloom. There was a chorus of frightened whimpers from the children, and hushed murmurs from the old folks. Powder, reflexively, snuggled closer. Vi's arms passed around her. Together, they'd nestled in the corner, and finished the last slices of bundt cake.

"I'm scared," Powder mumbled, when the last crumbs were licked clean.

"It'll be okay."

"When's Mommy coming back?"

"Soon," Vi said. "She's just busy upstairs."

"With Daddy?"

"Yeah. They'll be back soon." Vi hoped the promise wouldn't choke her. "Everything's gonna be okay. Let's go to sleep."

Powder's voice was a wavery flute-note. "Will you sing me a song?"

"Which one?"

"Our favorite."

"Okay." Vi took a breath. She pushed the thoughts of Mom and Dad away. Right now, her sister was all that mattered. "But you gotta promise you'll go to sleep."

"Promise."

Vi closed her eyes. She could hear the ebbing soundtrack in the bar above: muffled voices, footsteps receding. Vi imagined her parents exiting the bar, arm-in-arm, the scent of bundt cake wrapping them in its own cozy embrace.

The Drop's door thudded shut, and all fell silent.

"Ready?" Vi managed.

Powder nodded. Vi began to sing.

Dear friend across the River…

She wasn't sure how long she kept up. Powder had fallen asleep midway. Vi had continued, a little voice inside warning that if she lapsed to silence, the world would end.

And so she'd sung until her throat was raw, and the lyrics a hoarse whisper. By the end, she must've succumbed to sleep. Because the next thing she knew, a blast split the night. Outside, the awful echoes rolled. A moment later, she smelled smoke. The stench, a blur of charred metal and burning timber, seeped into the cellar.

Cries of alarm and confusion spread. Powder jolted awake in her arms.

"What's happening?" she whimpered.

"Don't worry." Vi gathered her in. "Everything's fi—"

The gunfire began.

It came from far-off. At first, Vi mistook it for firecrackers. Then, with a chill certainty, she knew it was bullets. The shot-spaced reports multiplied. The smell of smoke thickened. From the cellar window, there was the unmistakable glow of flames crawling their way through the sky. The children, woken from their fitful dozing, began crying. The old-timers tried to calm them. But their own terror was a contagion.

Outside, screams spread.

Screams that went on and on—and ended with a sudden bone-juddering boom.

"Mommy," Powder sobbed. "Daddy!"

Vi circled her close. "Sssh. It'll be okay. Everything will be—"

Above, the Drop's door slammed open. Boots thundered overhead, cutting through the children's sobs. Vi saw the old-timers tense. An elderly Yordle with a cane mounted the cellar stairs. The delineations of an antique pistol were visible under the band of his trousers.

He put a finger to his lips. Then, slowly, he withdrew the weapon.

Below, the remaining adults corralled the children into a flock. The old-timer reached the topmost step. His free hand was on the doorknob, ready to pull it open. His jaw was set. There was a resoluteness about him that Vi would later understand as the knowledge of imminent death.

The cellar door burst open.

On the other side were no Enforcers. Just a girl. Or, as Vi would later think of her: The Girl.

Nao.

She'd been only twelve years old then, and scrawny as a rake. Her cat-eyes held the adrenalized wildness of a hunted animal. The terror leaping off her was palpable. For a moment, she just stood there, panting.

"Dead," she choked out in Va-Nox. "All dead."

The old-timer's shoulders squared. "Steady, girl. What's happened?"

"We're dead. We're—" Nao's eyes skated across the cellar. She spotted the other children, and her voice hitched. "They ambushed them. The Enforcers. They were ready. Gunfire. Everywhere. All over. Then—then a grenade blast." Her breathing was ragged. "Everyone's dead."

"Where're the backup units?" the old-timer rapped. "Where's the Hound?"

"I—I don't know. I couldn't see anything. Too much smoke. I ran." A convulsion shook her. "I just ran."

"Easy." The old-timer squeezed Nao's shoulder. "Are the Enforcers still belowground?"

A headshake. "They're on their way back up. They've killed everyone. Cut us all down." Tears streaked Nao's face. "All of us. Dead in the streets. On the Bridge. Everywhere." She started to sob. "We never had a chance."

And Vi, cradling Powder, had felt her childhood crash.

And burn.

And yet, worse was to follow. Hers and Powder's feet, traversing the alleys of a city in flames. A city that, in a night, had mutated into a nightmare. The streets were strewn with bodies. Flames crackling; smoke rising. In the aftermath, they'd all spread out. Strays and stragglers crawling from the corners, in search of their loved ones.

Vi held Powder's hand, and made her cover her eyes with the other.

Then she'd led her sister, through the red-tinged haze, from body to body. She saw faces she'd known. Faces she'd barely recognized. Friends. Playmates. Neighbors. And, in the distance, the echoes of Enforcer boots. The crack of their rifles. And their silhouettes, receding into the gloom.

Back to Piltover.

There were bodies on the Bridge. So many, they formed a carpet. A macabre red road straight to Hell. Some corpses, charred and broken, were strewn along the embankments. Others bobbed in the murk of the river. The wind carried a strange stench, a smell that reminded Vi, irrationally, of bundt cake. Smoky, soggy, warm.

Beneath ran the undercurrent of iron.

Blood.

At the Bridge's epicenter, where the bodies were thickest, Vi saw a silhouette loom. A broad-shouldered goliath with mallets for fists. He was swinging lefts and rights, clearing a path through the carnage. A man, bleeding, struggled beneath him.

Crack went the fists, encased in gauntlets. Crack went his feet, clad in spiked-steel greaves.

Crack, crack, crack—and the man was no more.

Terror spewed stickily inside Vi's chest. Her grip tightened on Powder's hand.

Then the goliath turned, and Vi recognized Vander. The flames, playing off his hard-hewn jowls and bristling brows, gave him a ferocious aspect. He resembled hound forged in flames: heated, hammered and honed for a single brute utility.

Then his eyes met Vi's.

All at once, the violence leeched out of him. In the span of heartbeats, he somehow shrunk from a looming giant to a dejected man.

Slowly, he lumbered forward. His eyes held Vi's. A miserable query passed between them.

Vander jerked his chin.

That was when Vi saw her.

Mom.

She was lying on the Bridge's flagstones, arms outflung. Her face, uptilted, staring sightlessly into the sky. Blood spooled in a thin line from the corner of her mouth.

Vi's breath congealed. Her legs locked. She wanted to run. To scream. To turn back the clock, and undo everything from that awful night. Except, her body was rooted, and her brain, a blank. She could only stand there, caught in a paralytic loop, as the seconds stretched into infinity.

She hadn't cried in the cellar. Hadn't cried during the blast. Hadn't cried all the way through the city's death throes.

But here, now, it was different.

This was Mom.

Vi gasped, and there was no more air. Her knees gave out. Then Powder's little arms were around her, and the sobs began.

She remembers Vander's gauntlets falling, and his arms gathering her close. Remembers the rough, reassuring span of his body, and the strength with which he hefted her and Powder away. Remembers how safe she'd felt, despite the inferno smoking at her heels.

Now, Vi remembers something else. A moment, before the smoke engulfed the bridge, when her eyes locked on the sprawl of Mom's body. How her arm lay outstretched, fingers reaching. A final, involuntary gesture, as if straining to touch the hand of a loved one. As if, in her last breath, she'd sought a rescue that was too far.

Vi remembers, too, the man.

The man from the Drop. The one with the hangdog grimness and the brightleaf cigarillo. The one whose lips had quirked when he'd looked at Vi. Whose eyes, blue, had met hers, and softened with something that wasn't quite farewell, but wasn't quite anything else either.

The man was splayed on his belly. His blood had pooled and merged with Mom's. His arm, flung outward, was a mirror of hers. Their hands, in perfect alignment, nearly touching like the clasp of a broken necklace. Or like two ends of the same fuse.

And between them, a star-shaped blot of blackness where the explosion had gone off.

A grenade blast.

[venerawrites]

Hiii

Can ask for shino and shikamaru (separate) (angst)

A story about them having a crush on reader but then they found out that someone likes them too??

Maybe they were about to go see reader until they saw them with another boy 😭👊👊👊

author's note: wow, I took a while with this request, but I was waiting to be in the right mood so I can write it! I changed the story a bit with Shino, I hope that's okay! I really hope you enjoy and thank you so much for requesting! <3

Shino

Being best friends with Kiba had ton of pros - you always had something fun to do, his mom made the best fried spinach rolls and you also had unlimited passes to snuggle Akamaru any time you want. It also gave you the chance to join him and his teammates' training, despite not being a ninja yourself.

Spending so much time observing them, you grew somewhat closer with Hinata and Shino too.

The girl was shy and timid at first, but once she got to know you, she started to relax and speak more. For your surprise, she was also quite quick witted, offering remarks and comment the second Kiba said or did something. You didn't had a lot of common, but she had a vast knowledge in very different areas and could keep conversation on almost any topic.

Shino, on the other hand, was more difficult to get to know. The first few times you showed up at their training, he just silently nodded his head as a greeting, before continuing his sparring. Even when it was time for his break, he choose to sit by himself in the opposite side of the field, rather next to you. After a few months, however, your patience paid off and he started to have small chats with you, usually cantered either around nature or insects.

Naturally, at first you thought that maybe he didn't like you. You've seen him talk with other shinobi on the streets of Konoha, and he sounded quite blunt with the rest of his team, so you didn't think he was shy or embarrassed. But when you finally shared your thoughts with Kiba, he just laughed, resting his arm around your shoulders:

"Don't worry, Y/N! He is like that with everyone - trust me, I know him like the back of my hand!"

Unbeknown to you, meters away, standing in one of the many alleys leading to the central road, was the devil himself. Shino's eyes remained focused on the hand around your shoulder, his lips instinctively pressing into a thin line.

Shino often questioned how did he got to his current position.

Being in a team with the Inuzuka, he knew who you are before he even met you - Kiba never missed a chance to say how beautiful and funny his best friend is, and how one day they are going to finally gain the courage to ask them out. At first, Shino didn't think much of it - his teammate was famous for getting a new crush every second week of the month.

But soon every second week turned into a whole month and then to six months, before it was finally a full year and Kiba got bold enough to bring you to one of their training practices.

Oh, how wrong it felt for Shino's breath to hitch in his throat, the moment he laid his eyes on you for the first time! Thankfully his stare was well hidden behind his dark glasses, because he was sure if the other boy noticed, he wouldn't hesitate to attack and that would surely affect his team's future dynamic.

Knowing he should not lust after his friend's interest, the man tried his best to stay away. He avoided talking with you, sitting near you or even looking at you for too long. The more he resisted this pull he felt toward you, however, the harder it got.

"What if I just give myself a little taste? Maybe once I get to know them, all these feelings would fade away", he thought to himself when he finally got brave enough to sit next to you.

Any hope he had that he would lose interest once he talk with you, quickly disappeared into thin air, once you looked at him with your big eyes, eagerly nodding for him to continue his explanation about dragonflies and the metamorphosis after their larval stage. He wasn't used to someone questioning him so much or show such keen interest in what he was talking about, so when you did, he couldn't help but realise he was in love.

Shino considered himself a good and loyal friend. But the more he watched Kiba wasting his time without saying anything to you, the more selfish he started to feel.

Why shouldn't he show you his interest? His teammate was obviously not going to do it, so it was technically not a stabbing in the back... right? It was your choice at the end of the day who do you want, but he had a right to compete for your heart too!

After months of thinking it over and over, Shino knew he had to tell you how he felt, even if the risk of you rejecting him was big. But as he watched Kiba sitting you down on one of the benches, his hand still around your shoulder, while the other one shyly pulled a flower from behind his back, he knew he was too late.

He had lost without even being given a chance.

Shaking his head, he threw the small box of your favourite chocolates bonbons in the nearby bin, before turning away and stuffing his hands in his pockets. The sound of your laughter ringed behind him and he had to stiffen his whole body, stopping it from taking a glance and hurting his heart even more.

Maybe one day things would be different - it would you be you and him on that bench, and he would pour his whole soul in front of you, promising you the world if you only give him the chance for him to give it to you.

Maybe one day he would be able to be with you, without feeling the rotten feeling of guilt and disgust with himself.

Maybe one day, but today was not that day.

Shikamaru

Clear days like these were rare - no clouds, no wind, not even the slightest movement in the air - just the unforgiving sun shining brightly at the Village Hidden in the Leaf. Time felt just like a concept when the hours kept dragging slowly after one another, each feeling like a whole eternity.

A loud yawn escaped Shikamaru's lips and his feet dragged through the dirt, making their way to the training grounds where he was sure you will be. While you didn't posses any special abilities or unique jutsu techniques, nature has gifted you with extremely sharp mind, wide imagination and skilful hands, which were able to build any type of weapon. When you were not away on a mission or hanging out with Shikamaru, you liked to spend your time resting the improvement to your latest gadgets.

The friendship that blossom between you two in your late teens was both surprising and unexpected. Back at the Academy you both shown quite hostile behaviour toward each other and while you were not exactly “enemies”, you couldn’t stand each others presence. The Nara boy did not like how loud, unpredictive and spontaneous you are, seeing your carefree attitude as both annoying and dangerous, especially during missions.

On the other hand, you were also not a fan of him. While you acknowledged his intelligence and gift for coming up with quite interesting strategies, his laziness, sarcasm and constantly bored expression were something you would never want in a fellow comrade.

Yet, a few years later you were almost inseparable. His knowledge combined with your handiness made you a powerful duo and you were often combined in missions together, especially when it came to tracking and ambushing rogue ninjas. What started as strictly shinobi work soon turned into daily hangouts. You learned from each other and often spend whole nights talking and brainstorming how to better your teamwork.

But respect and friendship were not the only thing growing between you two. Shikamaru didn't know when or how exactly it happened, but one morning he woke up next to you on the sofa, after both of you fell asleep playing shogi, and he looked at you, suddenly realising what the funny feeling inside of his chest was. He reached out to you that day, gently removing the hair out of your peacefully sleeping face and wishing that one day he will wake up next to you as your lover, not just the friend you accidentally fell asleep next to.

Months passed since that time and he never said even a word about his feelings. Every day you met at the exact same spot and exact same time, spending your whole days together, just like you were before. You continued acting the same way, enthusiastically talking about your latest inventions, completely unaware of your friend's longing looks and blushing cheeks. Or maybe you were aware, but you were nice enough not to say anything about it.

Shikamaru rarely felt fear, but for weeks now this was the main emotion squeezing his heart. What if you didn't return his affection? What if you wanted to just be friends? What if you realised his feelings and decided to take a step back, thus making him lose you forever?

All these questions were actively torturing his brain every waking minute, but as he stood near the entrance of the training grounds, watching you laughing, head buried in Naruto's chest, he couldn't help but squeeze his hands into fists.

What was this dobe doing? And since when you were SO close?

Feeling someone's glare burning the back of your head, you lifted your head from the blonde's jacket, before turning around. Spotting your best friend near the gates of the grounds, you ignored his narrowed eyes and annoyed frown, instead waving your hand high in the air.

"Shika!", you smiled brightly, pulling away completely from Naruto's embrace, "You are late today!"

The black haired male only hummed in response, slowly walking over to you, his eyes dancing between you and his other friend. While your demeanour seemed normal, the Uzumaki's face was all red and he kept glancing at you every few seconds, his teeth deep into his bottom lip.

"Am I interrupting something?", the words came out heavy with sarcasm and your brows immediately furrowed. Shikamaru hasn't used this tone since your academy days, when he used any chance to show his dislike toward you.

Naruto finally acknowledged the other male, one of his hands making his way toward the back of his neck, where he nervously scratched the skin. He grinned at the Nara, stepping over to him and extending his arm for a handshake.

"H-Hey, Shikamaru! Didn't expect to see you here, heh...", his hand shamefully retracted, once the other boy did not take it, instead glancing at it with disgust. You watched the weird interaction, while pulling your weapons in your bag, confused at why both of them were acting so strange in each other's presence. They were not the best of friends, but they were still pretty close and it was unusual of them to be that nervous around each other.

"I was just asking Y/N if they want to come and grab some ramen with me-"

"They are busy", Shikamaru impatiently interrupted, briefly moving his eyes to you, "We have plans already."

The blonde man let out a small "oh!" and he looked over to you with a confused expression. Having all your weapons neatly packed in your bag, you stood next to both of them with crossed arms, you face twisted in annoyance.

"Actually...", you moved over to Naruto, taking his hand in yours and giving him a small smile, "I am so starving, I would love to have some ramen now! If you go and wait for me near the gates, I will be there just in a minute."

The man smiled at you, nodding his head at your words, before reaching toward your shoulder and taking the heavy bag from you. He passed Shikamaru, nodding his head as a goodbye, but the dark-haired male was too busy glaring at you in order to give any type of response.

Once Uzumaki was at a safe distance away from you, you turned your attention back to your friend, almost hissing at him:

"What the hell is your problem?"

He scoffed at your words, one of his brows arching high up.

"Naruto?", his name feel out together with a mocking laugh from his lips, "Really? You are ditching me for Naruto?"

You rolled your eyes, both annoyed and baffled by his bizarre behaviour.

"I'm not ditching you!", you defended yourself, before crossing your arms once again, "I am absolutely starving and technically, laying in the middle of a field and sleeping is hardly counted as "plans". Naruto was nice enough to ask me to join him-"

"That dobe likes you! His face looked like he was about to explode when he was next to you!", Shikamaru didn't even wait for you to finish your sentence, before huffing at you. He took a step closer, his jaw clenching, "I though you are better than entertaining stuff like these from... people like him."

The way he said these words, filled with so much venom and dislike... You didn't know who the man you was, but he was definitely not your best friend.

"Dobe? People like him?", you repeated, taking a step back, "Okay, calm down Sasuke 2.0! Don't get your panties in a twist and go rogue or something, because you can't handle the idea of me hanging out with people other than you!"

Before he can reply, you stepped around him, making your way toward Naruto, who was patiently waiting for you near the gates of the training grounds. After a few steps, you looked back, your eyes full with dissapointment:

"I really thought time has changed you... If you decide to stop being a d*ckhead, you know where to find me! Goodbye, Shikamaru!"

The young Nara stood there in the middle of the grassy field watching your figure become smaller and he loudly gulped, when he saw the blonde taking your hand in his. He knew he acted irrationally, based on his jealousy and anger, and know as there was nothing but silence around him, he realised that maybe he did already lost you forever.

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

[coldgoldlazarus]

If you don't mind answering, what did you mean about zombie media being a dehumanization simulator?

I'm also not a fan of zombie media but I don't think I've heard that before and I'm genuinely very curious

I made another post a few months back explaining it better, but I can't find it now, so I guess here's the short version. Basically three main reasons it all puts me off. Reason 1 is just the excessive gore, I don't deal well with that, (plus the whole idea of the Identity Death side of it kinda freaks me out too) but I know it's more of a subjective aspect. The other two are the more important things, basically different ways The Vibes Are Off.

Second reason being, a lot of zombie media seems to really feed into the sort of "rugged lone survivors with a gazillion guns and some canned beans" apocalypse fantasy that's disturbingly prevalent in the US among the far right. The "rapture is coming, and we're gonna make it through with a ton of toxic masculinity and a reversion to traditional roles" mindset. I assume there has been at least some stuff out there that's used the premise to deconstruct or parody this attitude, but the vast majority that I'm aware of, and certainly the most popular/successful tends to uncritically uphold it.

And then the third thing is the dehumanization simulator thing I mentioned, which is kinda more an issue with the fundamental setup of a zombie apocalypse in the first place. These things are human shaped, but not actually human anymore, someone like your neighbor or a family member is now an Other and you're not only encouraged to gun them down remorselessly, but required to do so. Also, anyone could be hiding a bite or other sign of infection and turn on you at any moment, so you have to relentlessly keep watch over your survivor group and be prepared to murder anyone at risk of becoming an Other. Like, the recurring message with all this stuff, intentional or not, is tacit or outright encouragement of paranoia and dehumanization, and murdering anything that's too Other for comfort, no matter how human-shaped they are.

(I also remember hearing somewhere that zombie media got a big propoganda push or at least got really big on its own during the Red Scare, which would not surprise me in the slightest.)

[phoenixcatch7]

Various headcanons about sephiroth that come from someone who does not know enough about ff7 to have any sort of credible opinion:

He got artificially aged a couple years as a kid. This lines up with hojos astoundingly selfish, cruel, results oriented modus operandi. It gets results faster and means he doesn't have to deal with an infant/toddler for the usual years. It's said in some ff7 encyclopedia that he was on the front lines before he was ten, but his mind and body in ever crisis do not reflect that. And I SINCERELY doubt even propaganda fed soldiers would accept a nine year old in a war zone. That and he's the youngest of the 1st trinity, with them being very young adults, but looks fully matured (if with the face of someone who's never had a single spot ever lol).

His hair isn't normal. There's no way that's just normal keratin it simply isn't. I don't know what it is but it's as weird as the rest of him. Maybe it's like polar bear fur and suuuuper thick but hollow like bird feathers. Did you know their skin is pure black?? Do you think his hair reflects rainbows in the right light like glass tubes???

Speaking of his hair he probably started growing it out the second he stepped on the battlefield and away from hojo. Probably a buzz cut when he was a kid. I imagine it to be a combination of a symbol of independence and self care (as it is to me), taking control of his own appearance, and picking up a bit of the samurai/noble warrior culture alongside his katana during the war with wutai, which (in real life eastern cultures, notably traditional Japan and China, but do NOT quote me) associated long hair with nobility and high ranking samurai, and short/shorn hair with slavery and criminals. (Also, lions manes shorten or even fall out when they lose (gain injuries in) fights, and that's very funny to imagine sephiroth dealing with.) His bangs? They're the only part of his appearance that actually needs regular upkeep, so why does he have them? Simple. They're the same bangs as the picture of his mum lucrecia he got as a kid. Their hair spikes up there the same way ToT.

I lied there's another part of his appearance that needs upkeep. Man is wearing eyeliner and mascara. I get it's a character design choice to bring attention to his eyes but that is definitely eyeliner and the rest of his hair is white as snow, so mascara as well. The whole of gaia (ff7) is pretty 90s metal scifi dystopia and the general fashion (cohesive character designs) feature plenty of belts and earrings (but only for the men??) so it's unlikely to be any sort of big deal Mr macho war mascot is wearing subtle eye makeup.

But I do get the feeling he doesn't have earrings because he heals too fast. Like even cloud has a stud. I like to imagine the three of them went and got them all at the same time but only sephiroths didn't stick.

Those weird metal cuff looking bracelets all soldiers have are used to brace your sword with. Sephiroth is the only one I've seen use them through, so they're obviously very reinforced XD! But he can probably backhand all sorts with them. Wish they got more usage. Imagine charging sephiroth with a claymore or something (side eyes cloud) and he just slaps it away and his stupid leather glove doesn't even have a scratch.

He got taught reading and writing pretty late. You know the way he reads with his finger keeping track of where he is like a little kid? That's definitely an old habit. When you raise a super strong, super intelligent kid in the labs you're gonna want to restrict the information he can get, and I sincerely doubt hojo was going to be invested in getting his baby alien child soldier a well read education. Gast probably taught him some if he was old enough to understand. He might have originally been taught Ancient text before that fell through. Might even be mostly self taught.

You just know he's got a dog eared dictionary somewhere in his apartment.

Hojo has got a winter soldier style shutdown code in him as a failsafe. I sincerely doubt sephiroth would know, but he might suspect something. In canon sephiroth went off the rails exactly the way hojo wanted, so it was never used, but that man's psychopathy and tendency for mind manipulation combined with his thoroughness and self serving god complex (and general sadism) makes for a perfect breeding ground for that sort of brainwashing when dealing with a subject capable of ripping his blackened heart from his chest in a microsecond. The first word is jenova, because why would sephiroth suspect a surge of adrenaline at the sound of his 'mother's' name? Also I think it'd be super scary and ripe for fics.

Sephiroth doesn't experience gender the same way as humans. Not a chance. He'd totally use neo pronouns. Star gender. He achieved his safer form and had the biggest wave of gender euphoria ever (outside of that black wing arm which reads to me as a sign of corruption from.. *waves in shinras direction*). If a sane sephiroth saw it he'd be so jealous. (In contrast angel and genesis don't.)

He's got cptsd from hojo and labs/doctors in general. But he wouldn't know until he got therapy and exited survival mode lol.

I get the feeling he tried really hard to have morals and kindness even if it didn't come naturally until the library. It probably didn't come naturally but listen he was trying his best and succeeding!! But then his last thread snapped and he was like 'fine. If I'm a monster I'll be the worst monster they've ever seen' and went on to do exactly that.

He thinks he's rebelling and shedding his chains exacting vengeance etc etc but hojo handed him directly to jenova. Like he went from one slave master to the other he doesn't even know what his chains actually look like. Hojo was jenova yes man he was so happy to do anything for her out of scientific curiosity and sadistic glee. He was happy to watch the world burn if it meant he had a hand in it.

Sephiroth is actually a pretty good blend of his parents. Got all his looks from his mother though XD. And his temper. But his laser focused cruelty is all hojo.

Him and aerith probably knew each other in the labs at least peripherally. I like the idea they knew each other as kids.

He can't taste sour well at all, can taste water like cats and dogs, and craves fish. These have zero basis in canon and are mostly from a really good fic (ROADTRIP! by copper_nights on ao3, who does my absolute FAVOURITE characterisations of sephiroth and the gang) but I like the idea of him craving fish because of the whole 'part planet eating alien' thing and the fact life first developed in the oceans. So seafood is probably a pretty big part of jenova diet XD. But hojo probably has him on a more red meat based diet for ~protein~. Get this man some sushi!

The way he fights is very offensive unless he's sparring (obviously) but the way he takes damage is by being absolutely fine until he abruptly keels over. Like cats. This worries everyone around him and is entirely hojos fault. It's partly ff7 having limited gore like most media and partly the fight in advent children where he acts untouched, gets off a one liner to cloud and then IMMEDIATELY dies of his injuries. Kadaj survives about another twenty seconds. It's very classy big bad video game boss but it's also hilarious how much he refuses to ragdoll at any cost. He may be insane and clawing his way back to the earth's surface by kidnapping children but man has his dignity!! (Literally the only time he goes where he's sent is in rebirth when he grapples cloud for?? Absolutely zero reason?? And lets himself be pushed off and even then it's because he's playing mind games. Remake sephiroth is wild.)

He was also degrading before he died. As the youngest and most stable he lasted longest, but just like genesis (and Angel) he went downhill real fast even before he got thrown into the reactor. The degradation seems to start mentally before bigger symptoms appear, with paranoia, irritability, tunnel vision. I don't doubt chronic pain, which would exacerbate everything.

He LOVES space. It's almost hypnotic to him. He can navigate by stars amazingly well.

And I hit the character limit XD.

To round off briefly, I also feel he would be disappointed or betrayed upon finding out about/meeting lucrecia, for not being able to get him out of the labs (like elmyra did for aerith) because he probably struggled a lot with realistic power levels and his idolisation/fantasies of his mother, but I don't like that and also they both deserve a proper reunion so I usually ignore that lol.

And Vincent would have been his godfather, which is another reason hojo shot him - he could have lost legal guardianship over sephiroth, and thus, total control. A top ranking turk would have been the only person capable of successfully hiding such a child. Maybe they had the paperwork all ready.

They might be just headcanons, but I really like them XD! I don't usually make these, I prefer fleshing out canon with sturdier stuff or straight up making aus, but sephiroth sends me feral so lol.

[forcedhesitation]

crazy how he just ignores everyone else and speaks directly to wyll. it's like wyll is like one of the most important characters in this game, or something.

[thelegendofstella]

Gravesfield + Gravesfield County probable locations in TOH

So, out of all the Gravesfield speculation I’ve seen so far, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone try to actually parse out its specific location within Connecticut, which is a shame because that window is SURPRISINGLY narrow now that we have certain bits of information about it on our hands. Not only that, but we also know that Gravesfield is part of its own county (”Gravesfield County Zoo,” anyone?), which has a lot of interesting implications as well. At least location-wise it does—I don’t know if it has any lore connections or not, though it’d be interesting to see if it did, at least. Not the point of this post though, so whoever wants to figure that out can have at it. Anyway...

TL;DR: I’m almost 95% sure that Gravesfield is located somewhere in southwestern irl Litchfield County along Route 109, and that its county should surround it and some other cities in mostly the same area. All the evidence I have to support this is below the cut:

The main source I'm drawing from here is this image:

Source: Tweet from John Bailey Owen, posted Oct 14 2022

For those who don’t know, this was a promo image of a fake Gravesfield website homepage screenshot that was posted October 14, 2022, just before Thanks to Them aired. For the most part, it looks like a regular, albeit slightly clunky 2000s-era-looking, website, except for the bits of weirdness/dark humor littered about the text (”Escape Routes,” “The Truth About This Place,” “Sightings,” “if you visit once, you may even wind up staying”) and the hidden text in the bottom corners of the page (which spell out “HELP THEM”). People of course freaked out about this stuff, as is evident in the replies of the original tweet, analyzed all of it to death, blah blah blah, that’s pretty much old news at this point.

There’s also a small calendar on the right side of the page that indicates that the events of the show are possibly happening on some year that the first day of October lands on a Saturday, and when accounting for Luz’s age (14/15) and her modern lingo and stuff, those years could be 2005, 2011, 2016, and 2022. Smartphones like what Luz has in her possession were definitely not around in 2005, and probably not around in 2011, so either 2016 or 2022 are reasonable in-universe years to guess, with it probably leaning more towards 2022 because of the irl show’s creation date.

I could probably make a whole separate post on my thoughts on the date stuff and speculate the hell out of it, honestly, but that isn’t the subject I want to cover in this particular post. No, I’m more interested in what seemingly no one else has picked up on here: the location hints.

The fake screenshot doesn’t explicitly say where Gravesfield is located, obviously, but it does have two pieces of information that narrow down the possibilities significantly when put together.

The first piece of information is this:

Route 109 is an actual route in Connecticut, which spans from New Milford to Thomaston as seen here:

Source: Connecticut Route 109 Wikipedia page, retrieved Feb 1 2023

In order for this route to be relevant to Gravesfield news, the town has to be along this route somewhere, or at least nearby it in some measure (aka it has to legally be within city bounds, which I’ll get into later). Route 109 is located in southern irl Litchfield County, which means that Gravesfield is also located in southern irl Litchfield County somewhere.

That’s pretty good and all, definitely a lot better than just throwing a dart at the map and hoping it lands somewhere decent, but it can be narrowed down even further. The second piece of information we have is this:

This is a real thing too. Regional School District 12 (or the RSD 12) is one of many school districts in Connecticut, and it happens to serve the towns of Washington, Bridgewater and Roxbury, all of which are, coincidentally, located in southern irl Litchfield County.

Washington is pretty much right on Route 109, as seen in the map above, so that means that in order for Gravesfield to be both within RSD 12 bounds and nearby Route 109 at the same time, it has to be within irl Washington’s city bounds. I’ve drawn up a diagram of sorts below with this information in mind:

Source: me :D (and google maps)

The speculatory boundary I marked between the Washington and Gravesfield city bounds here is really just one rather simple possibility of how it might be cut up while still accounting for a part of Route 109 being within Gravesfield’s jurisdiction. Again, if the route weren’t part of it, it wouldn’t show up on the city website as a relevant announcement (and if it were part of a county-wide thing, it probably would have stated it as a county announcement or something).

So there you have it: most likely locations for where Gravesfield might be in Connecticut, give or take. I could speculate even further on where exactly within these areas Gravesfield could be placed, with analyzing the smaller roads and all that, but that would honestly just be pure speculation based on personal bias/preference/etc. and not, y’know, anything concrete enough to be a plausible theory, so I’ll just leave it as it is and let individual headcanons do the rest of the work on that front.

But there’s also Gravesfield County to worry about, as shown here:

Source: The Owl House Season 3 Episode 1: “Thanks to Them”

(The fact that this is even a canon background thing in the show is bonkers, because holy shit I can’t imagine what kind of butterfly effect nonsense this must’ve made in-universe compared to irl history, but I digress.)

What this means is that the southern part of irl Litchfield County at minimum is actually Gravesfield County in the TOH universe by default, since it has to include Gravesfield in it, being the town its ultimately named after. And since we’ve already established Gravesfield’s approximate location here, its county could possibly look something like this:

Source: me (and google maps) again

It’s a lot less concrete than the location of Gravesfield itself, obviously, but that’s because I don’t have much else to work with here other than that one screenshot from Thanks to Them and what I’ve theorized about Gravesfield so far. For all I know, the entirety of irl Litchfield County is Gravesfield County, not just a part of it, or maybe Gravesfield County goes even further south than what I’ve depicted and contains parts of the Fairfield and New Haven counties for whatever reason—who knows, really? Whatever it might be, it’s definitely somewhere in western Connecticut, surrounding New Milford, Washington, Route 109, etc., and that’s good enough for me in the interest of sticking to the concrete stuff.

Fun fact: apparently Connecticut doesn’t have county governments nor county seats, so despite the fact that Gravesfield County is named after Gravesfield, the town itself isn’t, like, a grand authority on other places nearby or anything. Each city within the county deals with their own police, fire department, schools, hospitals, etc. (and zoos. Gravesfield is apparently big enough to have a whole-ass zoo in it. Wild.)

The only thing that might break this in some respects is, well, potential butterfly effect shenanigans. It can be argued that because Gravesfield and Gravesfield County exist in the TOH universe, the exact positions of the other counties, towns, etc. could be drastically different from where they are irl, and things like the regional school districts could have totally different boundaries and thus the triangulation I just did using them is pretty much useless, but there’s nothing confirming any of this in Word of God or in the show canon as of today, so I’m fairly confident that we’re working with a world that’s very similar to the irl world Except For Gravesfield. Unless the last special pulls some sort of epilogue nonsense in Gravesfield that completely obliterates my base-line irl world assumptions for this universe, anyway. You never know lmao

So basically, in short: Gravesfield and its eponymous county are most likely located in southern/southwestern irl Litchfield County around Route 109 or thereabouts, and probably replace that particular area as their own governmental entities instead of being part of a different county or something. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk

[starrycat123-blog]

oksies hi starting a new thread of get to know you

haii I'm moth and also thea you may call me any nickname as well <3

I love musicals so so much (niche and popular!! basic-shaming is lame)

I am superhero obsessed (augh pied piper)

doctor who is my autism (yay river sonf!!!!)

good omens heoughhhhhhhh

super excited to meet you <3333333

Hi moth!! You can call me tetra. Don't worry that's not my real name or anything tho. I took it from the concept of tetrachords in music.

If we're generous about what we call superheroes, then maybe most of the things I like are superhero based. I mean obviously there's marvel and dc, but then there's stuff like dpxdc, sonic the hedgehog (idk if I've ever heard him called a superhero but he kinda is), if we count magical girls then like. Sailor moon and madoka magica

I haven't seen any episodes of good omens, but I read a really good fanfic of Crowley going to therapy a while back, and a couple funny ones with like yelp reviews of Aziraphale's bookstore. Plus I love the good omens analysis posts on here. I feel like maybe I half know some of what's happened in the show but also probably haven't scratched the surface. I'm kinda bad at watching TV shows, so there's a lot of stuff that I know from fandom but haven't seen. For another example of that, I've only watched one or two episodes of Sonic Prime. I reblog posts for it and it sounds good but idk. Just bad at it.

I'm a much more casual fan of musicals, I think for the same thing as above where I just struggle to sit and watch something on purpose. But I listen to the music from them sometimes, I've read transcripts online of a couple, and i swoon whenever I see a post analyzing the meaning of a musical song, especially when they go beyond lyrics and start going into the music theory in the tune. I don't have the skills or knowledge to do that myself but I love it so much

(when the singer changes their technique to enhance the meaning,, when this or that chord is a step outside the key to symbolize change or isolation or anything,,, using instruments as symbols for this or that character,,, tbh it doesn't have to be a musical even shout out to that youtube video by Scruffy on how fnaf's audio and sound effects make it scarier)

Lately I've been bouncing back and forth between Sonic and DPxDC. With hints of Slay The Princess in there bc I saw part of a playthrough of that awhile ago and loved the concept. I reblog madoka magica stuff whenever I see it (except magia record bc I know next to nothing about it) because that stuff makes me lose my mind. The love the pain the hope the despair!! Homura is probably like my ultimate blorbo but I love all the five girls they're so cool. I actually read the manga instead of watching the show though so I'm not as familiar with all the music. Plus I think the show had some extra scenes. Although it's a little confusing bc I think some of the extra scenes I see are magia record so idk.

Also I'm a fan of arts and crafts and will reblog that kind of thing once in a while, along with cute cat stuff.

Super excited to meet you too!

[t-u-i-t-c]

ohranger (1995-1996)

[deepspacedukat]

Y’know, I normally am a very reasonable person. If someone asked permission to use my gifs on their posts, I would probably say yes. (Not just like a 50/50 shot, no, it’s more of a like 95% chance that I will say yes if asked politely.) I made them for people to enjoy, after all. But just taking them and giving no credit? That’s what pisses me off. Especially when you’re being obvious about it. Like...having a whole blog that’s nothing but reposts of memes and gifs you didn’t make - all of which are completely devoid of creator credit - is a really obvious, blatantly disrespectful way to steal people’s work.

Not to mention it’s rude as all get out. In what world would you not take maybe ten seconds to say “Hey, would you mind if I used your gif on my post? I’ll tag you in the caption/give you credit since it’s yours.” It only takes a minute, and it prevents conflicts with the content’s creator in the future. Gifs/memes don’t just magically appear. They take work. People have to actively decide “y’know, I think I want to spend some of my valuable time on this earth to make this gif/meme.”

This shit is why people stop making gifs.

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

.... i am real bitter about the loki s2 finale atm also seeing how it's less success in comparison to s2 hopes for s3 where they could possibly do more of stuff & outcomes are zero

[quick-drawn]

i'm just saying, if you're like me and have had 3 concussions within the span of a year and have trouble thinking and remembering things now, word hippo is a life saver —

[stairset]

Maybe it's just because of where I live, but the whole "Satine didn't like that her people were a bunch of warmongering imperialist assholes and told them to knock it off and implemented gun control and made the Jedi Torture Boxes illegal so that her people could rebuild and move on from their violent history of civil wars that reduced their planet into a nearly uninhabitable wasteland in favor of focusing on more productive things like art and education and this is literally cultural genocide and she's erasing history and she should've been a villain blah blah blah" take has always been so weird to me. Like I have absolutely seen people say things like that in real life all the time and about 90% of them have confederate flags on the back of their pickup trucks so. Yeah.

[chaotic-emo-pigeon]

anyone else ever suddenly remember Tumblr drama they haven't thought about in years

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Badly carved an eye into an avocado pit with a nail cuticle tool thing. trying to think of better designs to carve into avocado pits. I don't really have the right tools, maybe should order some carving tools. I hate buying things online eeeeee..

Worked on translating a poem into Avirrekava (my constructed language for one of my fantasy species) so I can paint it onto a tapestry sort of thing I'm making, kind of in the style of medieval illuminated manuscripts? I do not have paintbrushes small enough.

Spent a lot of time thinking more about the story with an investigator tracking a doctor who's doing strange experiments and they eventually become friends(ish) after trying to kill each other a few times, lol (set in my fantasy world though, so magic is involved, etc. It's just interesting to think about testing the limitations of magic and what type of experimentation people would do, especially if you own a hospital or morgue or other scenario where you have access to bodies, or good cover for hiding them, etc. Plus worldbuilding religions in the world, what their ideas of morality would be, what an "investigator" or police force would even look like in that setting, etc. Two jhevona main characters in a city full of elves and the in-world politics of that, class war and royals, pretentious scholar communities and how they'd operate, actual magic combat between two advanced magic users and what that would look like (mixing illusions or higher level spells with minor brute force tactics, evasion, enchantments, shapeshifting, etc.) etc. etc. ).

Organized some of my plants, but still need to replant some fully. Succulents grow SO fast, I think I'll run out of room. Also one has burnt to a crisp during the heat wave last week.. my son.. ToT.

Edited a few costume photos then gave up because my camera is evil and I always have that thing where it looks really cool in the mirror but then the final photos suck, which demotivates me to even do anything with them/feels like a waste.

Still chronic health issue sick stinky as usual, plus it's still warm inside from the heat a few days ago so being hot makes joint pain worse... evil.. no energy. fell asleep on the floor for like 30 minutes.

Tried a new oreo flavor and ranked it on my comprehensive oreo ranking list. Mediocre as usual, but I'm too far in to give up now gghj.. I have to just try them all. A fool's labor.

Notable sights: found one 6 leaf clover, two 5 leaf clovers, and eleven 4 leaf clovers. Saw a rabbit, 3 cats in windows, and 4 ducks. Also at some point I was squishing gum in my hand and pulling it apart and when stretched out it would make these really cool spindly spider web patterns. The sky later in the day was hazy pink, purple, and blue pastel sunset.

Goals moving forward: Wake up on time even if I feel sick when I wake up!!! Focus on more immediate projects, don't get distracted. Actually make room for investing in social time and replying to people even with minimal energy reserves. Stay consistent with physical therapy exercises. Plant nasturtiums. Finish and upload videos, email doctors, edit pictures, post the poll adventure thing that has been sitting in a draft for weeks.

Notable foods: None today, but I have asparagus for later which is exciting... my new favorite vegetable whilst on the stinky Nutritionist Prescribed Special Limited Diet

[astrxealis]

ffxiv changed my brain composition the most out of all medias i have consumed and trust me i have consumed a lot