#conundrums without conclusions

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

The Everyman Problem

So, I've had a kernel of a Bionicle post rattling around in my for a couple weeks that I haven't quite been able to articulate, but I think I might have the angle to explain it now.

I'm an "old Bionicle fan": by which I mean, I'm old enough to have got into Bionicle in the "Mata Nui" era (2001-2003). A glance at the notes on my big [unfinished, looking abandoned] alt-canon fanfic shows that I'm old enough to have disliked the change of the Toa from Mata to Nuva... in 2002.

So, which that as background, remember that I'm old enough to remember a time when it wasn't known at all that Matoran, Toa, and Turaga were all the same "species."

Thinking back on it, I don't think I initially "noticed" the revelation that no only were the Turaga were former Toa, but the Toa (Metru) were Matoran before that--Takanuva too, but he was something of a special case. In 2004, I was really just absorbing that Vakama, Onewa, etc. were former Toa--that "Toa" might mean something other than "single demi-urgic hero of each element." I got there eventually, as far as acceptance goes, but it part of my age-related fade out of the Bionicle fandom.

2006, on the other hand, emphasized the other part that I'd ignored more during the LoMN/WoS era: that Toa came from Matoran. I still don't love this, but until last night I couldn't really lay a finger on how to express why.

I thought it might just be my habitual stick-in-the-muditude: you changed Jaller from Captain of the Guard! You changed Matoro from Nuju's stoic interpreter to a worry-ridden saviour.

I also thought it might just be the genre shift: it's all fantasy, of course, but it's a different thing from the island mythology-vibe of Mata Nui to the Lost City of Atlantis vibe of Metru Nui (and then the vibes beyond). I like the Toa more as unique elemental avatars than evolved Matoran, but that's not really it either.

Last night, though, I watched later era Marvel movie--it doesn't matter which one, because they all have this problem--and as the credits were rolling, I realised that the reason I don't really like the MCU is much the same as this "problem" I had with Bionicle: if just about anyone can be a superhero, you lose the "ordinary" members of the story.

Putting it another way, I realised I prefer "chosen one" stories to "X-men" stories. This is probably the Tolkien fan to some extent: you can have a world full of magic and heroes and super-powers, but if it also has "ordinary" folk, their specific importance in the story is that they ARE ordinary: Gandalf and Aragorn are heroes and amazing, yes, but Frodo never "levels up"--he is a greater person at the end of the story than the beginning, but it is the growth of an ordinary person.

Because superheroes are so common in the MCU (or DCU, etc), it's hard to have ordinary people be front and center--and harder still for them to stay ordinary people. And something like that is my problem with where Bionicle went that I don't think ever fully resolved for me: part of the wonder of Mata Nui, the whole storytelling point of MNOG is that the Matoran contribute to the victory too: they have no mask powers, no elemental powers, but they are there to help the heroes and do their part and its essential.

This already starts changing with MoL, it changes more with LoMN, and by the time we get to the Voya Nui arc, we've gone "Full MCU": everyone in the story can be a Toa.

I think, if the Inika had been "four or five" new characters and only one "already-known" Matoran, I'd have been much happier. But when you take the most prominent Matoran from every tribe and make them all Toa... who's left? The headcanons that the Chronicler's company become Toa too both satisfy and don't work for me for this reason. They satisfy me if they leave the Inika as Matoran, because I think that was a better way to go; they annoy me if they're BOTH Toa now, because that exacerbates what I think is the "problem" here.

It's not really a problem, objectively, but it is my subjective sticking point. And it's the reason that even though I might keep most of this lore, despite the grumbling, I'm willing to jettison completely and utterly the idea that "only some Matoran are destined to become Toa." Destiny is always a hard thing to make work in the story, but the Doylist result is that Matoran now come in two categories: Special Protagonist and Ordinary: and the Ordinary is now completely swept off the stage and I really don't want that: I want the story to include a real focus on some powerless, ordinary individuals.

So I'd rather it be that ANYONE can turn into a Toa: they don't, maybe, because the circumstances lead there, but every Matoran has that potential. Because if anyone COULD be a hero, then at least when they do become a hero, it's more ordinary.

But I'd still rather that none of them could--but I'm not sure that is a concept you could return to without retconning Gen-1 so far that you end up with Gen-2. And I don't think I want THAT either.

#Bionicle #Toa #Matoran #conundrums without conclusions

[birdmenmanga]

focused too hard on the romancing robot aspect of chobits I completely missed the asexual metaphor. sorry about this

#just thinking thoughts... #it's a story about an allosexual guy finding a robot girl with the factory reset button in her pussy... #it's about not being able to hit without losing everything that makes her who she is and so very naturally choosing to not hit #when other people faced with that same conundrum came to the conclusion that she was defective instead

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“End Hunt,” Spider-Man (Vol. 1/1990), #55.

Writer: Howard Mackie; Penciler: Mike Manley; Inker: Joe Rubenstein; Colorist: Kevin Tinsley; Letterer: Richard Starkings

#Marvel #Marvel comics #Marvel 616 #Spider-Man 1990 #Kaine #Kaine Parker #Scarlet Spider #Ben Reilly #guys…please #you’re hurting me #you’re hurting op personally #Here we have Ben being confronted with the very typical Spider-Man conundrum of “…should I just let two of my enemies beat each other up?” #before coming to the very Spider-Man conclusion of “naw what they do is at least partially my responsibility too if I just let it happen” #(which is why Spider-Man has been a thorn in the Punisher’s side since AT LEAST the 90’s) #and just…how resigned both of these dudes are to their roles #Ben to being chased/pursued yet unable to rest easy without doing something with his own great power #and Kaine to desperately trying to impart some of the pain of his own existence onto the individual who is closest to him in origin #(even if how close they are in nature might be a viable topic for some debate) #but yeah #just how intrinsically intertwined these two are (and the misery that sometimes results from that) gets me sometimes

[finniestoncrane]

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 39: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.5k am i going to cry because this is almost over? maybe lmao💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some angst, but mostly ambiguous feelings

“My dear, will you please join me in the workshop?”

Eddie’s voice rang out through the hall. Loud, but not sharp. Oddly soft. And there was no hint of sarcasm, no patronising tone, to the pet name he offered you. This alone was enough to make you suspicious, sending pangs of cold, chilling fear through your body as you worried what might be in store for you. That was your default as of late. Things had been difficult since the orphanage, and you had settled comfortably on that being all your fault. And now, anytime you spoke to Eddie, anytime he needed to speak to you, your first thought was always negative, jumping to fearful conclusions that had you so on edge that you were finding yourself exhausted constantly, strung high and forever tetchy.

As you walked into the workroom, he turned to you, his face coloured by an expression you hadn’t seen often in him, making it difficult to recognise. Confusion? Lack of understanding? Lost without an answer. Unlike him. But, despite looking as though he had no idea what he was doing or what he was going to say, he spoke anyway. Very much like him. 

“I would like to assuage some… concerns I think you might have been having. Some that I shared until I spent the night dedicating my immense and spectacular brain power to this little conundrum.”

He paused, expecting you to roll your eyes at his ego, but you were staring, unblinking, waiting patiently and focused for his next words.

“As you will know, I have been incredibly busy this past few weeks. I apologise for that, and I apologise for not involving you as much in my work. I felt that you needed a rest, or deserved a rest, or… it doesn’t matter. This work… I’m intending on it being a surprise. For everyone, but mostly for you.”

Your mouth twisted into a confused look, at least that part of your worries could be filed away for now. It had been a while since he had asked anything of you, and to know it wasn’t out of anger or disappointment, or, god forbid, him practising living without you, you could feel the knots in your stomach easing slightly.

“For some time, I’ve been working on a project. One I couldn’t involve you in, even as my assistant. As a trusted party, as a friend. Or more than a friend.”

There was a struggle behind the words, as though he were worried about how they would come out. Scared he might commit to too much, to overstep a boundary neither of you had placed by calling you something more. 

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Your heart thudded, deep in your chest. Like it had fallen from your throat to the bottom of your rib cage. It knocked you back, the feeling, the knowledge that he cared enough to leave you out of something dangerous. To stop you from doing what was still your job just to make sure nothing bad happened to you. But you were still nervous, still speechless, and unable to speak before he started talking again.

“I think this is why I find it difficult to express my intentions for the future. Because I do have plans, but…”

He gestured around the room, at his failed plans, broken creations, settling his fingertips on old and new scars that covered his body.

“... Completely asinine to plan ahead when you’re… someone like me.”

You hated how right he was. The future, especially to an unreformed criminal, was always blurred, never quite there. Never manageable or predictable, no matter how much they would like it to be. No matter how smart they were. 

Eddie’s hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes settling on his as he focused intensely on you.

“I hate for this to be rushed, but Halloween is fast approaching and I have it on good authority that we will be rather busy come the big night. So I need you to know now that I will require you to be at this exact address at this specific time. Tomorrow night, the furthest tunnel, 9pm. Can you do that?”

You chose to ignore the tone, his question sounding very familiar to the sarcastic ones he would ask you when you first began to work for him. When he would ask if you could do something simple with the shit-eating grin of a man determined to get to you. Which of course, he had, and still did. 

“Is that… the question you had to ask me?”

Eddie reached his hand out, placing it awkwardly, almost formally, against the side of your upper arm.

“No, my dear. That has to wait until tomorrow. I just need to know… that despite everything, you’ll be there.”

The pause before you answered was a little too long, distressing on your end because it meant you didn’t immediately know the answer. Tortuous on Eddie’s as he waited to find out what his future really held in store. 

“I… I’ll be there, Eddie.”

He let out a sigh of relief, grabbing your shoulders as he placed his hands down firmly on them.

“Good. Good… Thank you.”

You offered him a smile, one that was so obviously awkward and forced to you both, before you turned and began making your way back to your room. Eddie hadn’t asked you to leave, but you knew he wanted you to. And you needed the space to think. Some time alone to settle your nerves and wonder what kind of cryptic bullshit Eddie was rambling about this time. 

A smile crossed your lips. At least that felt like normal. Eddie being strange, difficult to comprehend, frantic in his delivery of emotions. Strangely comforting. 

It really had been actually. Comforting. It was awkward, yes, but only because you let it be. You were in the headspace for that. You had been thinking negatively prior to even seeing Eddie’s face for the first time that day. But maybe the tone had been light, or would have been if you had let it be. Maybe there was something warm and tender in the way he said he needed you, to be there, to trust him. That there was an overarching meaning behind his behaviour, behind the words he said, the things he did. His future, though complicated, would be one you were a part of if he had any control over it, and that you had to trust him of that. The question he had to ask-

Fuck. 

This could be it. 

It felt like it. 

The rushed speech, the way he held your arms, looked deep into your eyes. Frantic, but excited. That felt like the mood you recognised from terrible sitcoms. The preamble to an inevitable proposal. An engagement. A declaration of love of the highest, most official, order. 

Mrs Nigma. What a complete gas. What a twist. What a… nightmare? 

Maybe he was going to do it. Maybe it would be ok. Maybe it was right. But it didn’t feel right. Did it feel wrong though?

It did feel wrong. It felt so wrong. So rushed. So unlike him. The guilt felt like it could almost swallow you, envelop you in an inky black substance that erased any other emotion you might be capable of. You had, for some reason, put an immense amount of pressure on everything. On your relationship, on Eddie. And he was responding like one of the rats in the sewer, stuck in a trap that it had tried to wriggle free from, but had eventually accepted its fate and succumbed to the slow death. Was that what your relationship was? A stifling, suffocating trap? Were you hindering his work? Stealing his focus? Making him make choices, take actions, that he never would have before or under his own will? 

But really, how much influence did you really think you could have over him? Realistically, you knew he was still, at his very rore, Edward Nigma. The Riddler. And you were still just you. Maybe a version of you that he cared for, and one he had learned to compromise with. But still, you couldn’t imagine that his feelings towards you would sway his very lifestyle or his long standing goals. 

And yet… you could let yourself believe that in fantasy. So then came another pang of guilt. You had to admit to yourself that if you could have Edward, if you could take him away from the things that gave him purpose, you would. Selfishly. You might be able to convince yourself that it was better for him in the long run, but what did you know? You weren’t his psychiatrist or psychologist or therapist. So many had tried and failed before you. What made you different?

Love? Compromise? 

So why couldn’t you compromise? 

Why couldn’t you accept your status with him? What? It wasn’t enough to just be with him anymore? You deserved more than that? 

Each hour that passed by only brought more worry, more questions without answers, possibilities both positive and negative that clouded your mind. The only thing you really were sure about was that, if he asked the question you suspected he might ask, that you wouldn’t say no.

Or would you.

Shit. 

Turns out, you really didn’t know anything. 

Just like Eddie had said when he first met you. Always right. Of course he was.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse #finnie yotn

[watermelonsloth]

Itachi and the Uchiha Massacre

This might be one of the most controversial posts I’ll ever make.

I find myself very undecided about how I feel about Itachi’s role in the Uchiha massacre. It fills me with the same moral indecision and disgust of the trauma olympics (aka the comparing of “who had it worse”). Every time I try to come to a consensus, I immediately doubt my conclusion and question whether I’m giving Itachi too much of the benefit of the doubt or I’m not taking his circumstances into account enough. It’s like asking if him being a child outweighs him killing children. And that makes me uncomfortable.

On the one hand, he did something very very very bad. He killed an entire clan of people, including who knows how many innocent civilians and children. He then proceeded to psychologically torture his seven year old brother with the memories of him doing so. Prior to being met with this specific conundrum, I would’ve said without hesitation that this is a black-and-white situation with Itachi being solidly in the wrong. Even if he wasn’t the only perpetrator, he still would deserve much of the blame for being one of the executors of such an abhorrent act.

I cannot stress enough how terrible the massacre would’ve been in practice.

However, and this is where I might lose a few of you, as more information is revealed, one question nags at my entire fucking central nervous system. How much of a choice did Itachi really have?

To understand the full circumstances, first you have to understand that the context falls under two categories: who Itachi is (and his perspective) and what position he was in when he made the decision he did. First, who he is:

Itachi grew up in a militaristic village that normalizes violence, especially violence being used to solve problems.

This village has also normalized putting the village’s survival over oneself and one’s friends/family.

He was alive to see the very end of the third shinobi war and the nine tails attack, two events that have solidified his belief that war is the worst thing ever and should be prevented at all costs.

Hiruzen, Danzo, Kakashi, and Shisui encourage his belief that war should be avoided at any and all costs. Three of them are authority figures (see the Milgram experiment for why that’s relevant) and one of them is his first and only best friend.

He is a very introverted and closed off person. He’s so closed off that not even his immediate family can read him. Because of this, his inner circle is very small (meaning he has a very small support network).

He grew up with a strict, authoritarian father and entered the anbu at a young age, meaning he grew up being expected/pressured to obey those in positions of power without asking questions.

He’s an introvert who’s scared of conflict and keeps his head down.

Second, his actual position when he was told to kill his clan (I might be missing some, so feel free to add any others you remember.):

He was thirteen. That is a child in grade 8. That is the age of most genin.

Tensions between his family and village are implied to have been rising for a while and are now at the point that, for whatever reason, negotiation is deemed impossible.

Tensions are so high that if the village doesn’t act soon, the Uchiha’s coup will spark an all out civil war.

The Uchiha clan has little to no chance of winning the conflict and will likely have most (if not all) of its members killed in it. Plus, the conflict would’ve also resulted in many casualties on Konoha’s side as well, including civilians, children, and shinobi who had nothing to do with what was happening.

Tensions between him and his father are extremely high as well with the two of them being implied to regularly argue.

His best friend, possibly only friend, died by jumping off of a cliff in front of him after giving him one of his eyes and left the responsibility of handling the entire situation to him.

He’s being suspected for the murder of said best friend (and was flat out accused of it in front of his younger brother by three adult police officers) and is suspected as being more loyal to the village than to his clan, making him even more of an outcast to his clan.

He's aware that his best friend was attacked and mutilated by Danzo, one of the village leaders and his superior. If he wants any action taken against Danzo, he’ll have to fight a solo, uphill battle against all of the village leaders and risk losing all sway over the Uchiha situation (which would still be a ticking time bomb) in the process.

If he doesn’t want to fight a two sided war or lose what little power he has in the situation, his safest option is to follow orders while pushing for a plan where casualties are minimized.

Did Itachi have other options? Yes, I’m not gonna pretend that genocide was Itachi’s only choice. But a lot of people seem to forget how difficult or flawed a lot of his alternatives would have actually been in practice.

For example, I’ve seen a lot of people throw around the idea of Itachi just grabbing Sasuke and leaving the village. First of all, the massacre still would’ve happened, Itachi and Sasuke just wouldn’t have been there for it. Second, Itachi would’ve had to remove Sasuke from the village without being caught by the village or the Uchiha clan when he was under the scrutiny of both. Itachi is a good shinobi, but I don’t know if he’s that good. Third, how would he even get Sasuke to go along with him? Itachi may not have been close to his clan, but Sasuke loved his clan. Yes, Sasuke also loved Itachi, but it’s a pretty big stretch to say that seven-year-old Sasuke would’ve just gone along with it, especially when he wouldn’t have been able to understand the true scale of the situation. (Itachi would pretty much have to kidnap Sasuke for this plan to work.) Fourth (and similarly), people don’t tend to like uprooting their entire lives to leave the home they grew up in, even in emergency situations or when it’s the objectively better/safer option. Itachi and Sasuke, who were both raised to be “lay down their lives” loyal to their home, would’ve been especially averse to this idea. Fifth, even if they got over all of that and got out of the village, Itachi would have to raise his younger brother alone at thirteen years old while being on the run from a world power with no protection in a world where they’re at risk of being killed or getting the attention of creeps like Orochimaru simply for having kekkei genkai. It’s not like Itachi had outside contacts (beside Obito but Obito would not have helped them even if Itachi trusted him enough to trust Sasuke’s life to him) or there was a benevolent nation to take them in. Even if they managed to one day settle into a peaceful life, it would’ve taken years of fighting to survive before they’d have gotten there. Cool fanfic idea, but making Itachi slightly more innocent isn’t a solution.

The idea that Itachi should’ve just told the Uchiha clan what was going on and got help from them is similarly short sighted. The Uchiha clan were the victims in this situation, but they weren’t perfect angels either. Itachi was not close to, or particularly well liked by, his clan. Save for Shisui (who is theoretically dead in this scenario) and Sasuke, he had no emotional connection to the clan, only vague respect and a waning sense of responsibility towards it. And even if he did go to them, Itachi telling them what was happening would’ve just sparked a civil war, the one thing Itachi was desperate to avoid and the thing that would’ve gotten them all killed.

So…

What was the point of all this?

I’ll admit that I hoped typing out my thoughts would somehow end in me settling on an opinion, but right now I’m still just as undecided and significantly more depressed. Because, like, it’s just a depressing, shitty situation where there were victims and perpetrators and Itachi who just so happened to be both. Maybe trying to ask if Itachi is either “good” or “evil” is asking the wrong question. Maybe the entire discussion about how moral Itachi is as a person or all of the other choices he could’ve made is missing the point.

#itachi uchiha #the Itachi morality conundrum #this should replace the trolly problem because OH MY GOD- #a looooong #rambling #i wrote this over the course of two days #naruto shippuden #naruto #the Uchiha massacre #the uchiha clan #discussing the morality within Naruto is exhausting #naruto analysis #character analysis #analysis #my stooff #I know that in the end Konoha is the greatest perpetrator and is to blame #But I thought ending this with that conclusion would be lame and miss the entire point of having this discussion #Though I guess how this ended isn’t all that much better

[stcrfeesh]

the complexities of simplicity

(and the friendships built with sandwiches)

No warnings apply; Safe for work.

The retelling of the roundabout way Al Haitham tries to become friends with you.

Or, how not to be spies with covers as employees in the corporate world.

Al Haitham was such a conundrum. Unlike everyone else, he was different.

Despite the field he was working in, one where he was required to lie, he was still never one to engage in false pleasantries and hollow compliments. He’d openly refuse to take time out of his day to chat about the weather to get the information he needs—the twists and turns were unnecessary to him.

If he could walk into an establishment to steal information, then he’d do just that. It was simpler to walk in and then walk out without being detected anyway. It wasn’t like anyone would suspect some feeble man for information theft. Why would they? After all, he was just another paying customer using the washroom after trying out a new coffee blend.

Al Haitham gets what he wants and what he needs, in a roundabout, but oddly efficient way. Why aim for the straight path to his goals when he could simply jump to his goal? It would save him so much more time and effort—save him his breath and thoughts.

The path between point A and point B was, indeed, already simple. Even a pigeon would understand such simplicity. But in his mind, anything that was already efficient would always have something to make it even simpler.

The simpler it was, the less work he’d have to do, and the less work on his plate, the better. It was like dealing with fractions in math—always answer with the simplest form.

He was a conundrum in the way he contradicts himself. The lengths he’d go to for certain things; an extensive plan on how to steal intel without having to talk much with anyone, or perhaps, commissioning someone to fashion a device for him so he wouldn’t have to water the plants outside every single morning himself.

Al Haitham in all of his contradictions, turns simplicity into complexity, and sometimes, it made your head spin in confusion.

You would always see him enter the building at eight in the morning—on the dot every day. It was the same routine for the most part; a cup of coffee in his hand, and his coworker? Friend? You weren’t sure, but the guy would always be complaining behind him as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes. Then, Al Haitham leaves at four in the afternoon. At that time, though, without his partner—who you’d usually see cursing his very being—in tow.

In all the days he’s passed by you, you’d give him a smile—not the same one you give everyone else, though. This smile was reserved for him alone, you thought that perhaps, he needed a little more kindness in his life—so, you’d smile at him every morning and every afternoon to greet him. Much to your dismay, however, he never greets you back. No “good morning” or “thank you”, and especially not a single glance towards you. And so, you have come to a conclusion.

Al Haitham was not nice. Though, of course, not in the way where you’d call him an absolute prick. He wasn’t a dick, per se, he was just… unsociable. Well, maybe he was a little bit of a dick for never greeting you back, but it wasn’t like a greeting less affected your entire life. He was just some sleeper agent working on the top floor of the same company you’ve been stationed in, who, also happens to not like making small talk.

Yes, that was definitely it. Perhaps he liked being in his own little world where nothing bothers him, and you could get around that. That much was understandable. After all, with years of undercover work at the front desk of a company where the rudest people in all of Teyvat would barge in with their incomprehensible demands, you too would like to be in your own little world.

Alas, such is life in the world of espionage.

Al Haitham wasn’t an important part of your life—okay, maybe he was, but that was if, and only if your covers were to be blown. You weren’t high up in the ranks to have had the immediate clearance to know his codename, it even took you half a year of running errands for headquarters to figure it out yourself. Turns out, Al Haitham, the quiet man who’d never greet you back, was the Agent Vulture everyone either feared or idolised. Or both.

Should your covers be blown, you’d trust him enough to get the both of you out of trouble. That was assuming he’d even lend you a hand.

You wonder then if he knows you were just like him—a sleeper agent, which you now begin to doubt he does 1. He probably doesn’t even know your name despite the gold name tag pinned onto your uniform. Does he even see you greet him? You’ll never know, to be honest, nor do you ever plan on knowing.

That thought changes, however, on one unsuspecting morning.

You watch him enter the front doors. On the dot at eight in the morning. His companion mutters curses under his breath as he follows behind him. Today, you manage to make out what the blond man was complaining about.

“Oh, I don’t know, Al Haitham,” You heard the blond whisper sarcastically. “Maybe a ‘Thank you so much for helping me out, Kaveh’ would do!”

You watch Al Haitham inch closer towards the front desk, probably to clock in. He hisses at his companion, “Why should I thank you, oh great Kaveh? I pay for your share of the rent. Isn’t that a ‘thank you’ enough?”

Kaveh, you let the name resound in your mind. So that’s what the blond guy’s name was. The name sounded familiar to you, but you couldn’t pinpoint why or how. Not that it mattered.

When they were near enough, you put on a smile to greet them, “Good morning,”

The blond guy, whose name you now know was Kaveh, stops ranting furiously at his companion and flashes you a toothed smile. “Yes, hello, darling, good morning.”

Al Haitham presses his hand against the clocking device, and it makes a little ding sound, signifying that he’s successfully clocked in. You already assumed he wouldn’t pay you any mind like always did, that he’d walk away, but he doesn’t. He stops in his tracks, to look you directly in the eye.

He doesn’t glance at your name tag, but somehow, he says your name as if he’s known the entire time. You hadn’t expected him to know your name, quite the contrary, actually. You believed he didn’t even know your face. So, when he says your name, your jaw drops the slightest in shock, and then you snap it back shut when you realise you must’ve looked like a fool.

“Yes?” You answer simply, testing the waters. “Is there something you need?”

He shakes his head letting you know that he didn’t, and then hands you something wrapped in wax paper, “You left your lunch, so I bought an extra sandwich for you instead.”

Now you’re just confused. What in Teyvat was he even saying? What does he mean you left your lunch at home? You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if he was a double agent out to get you, but his expression remains as stoic as ever. Had it not been for his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk, you would have believed what you wanted to believe.

Message, you managed to gather from his tapping. You nod, getting his message as you take the item from him. “Oh… I was in a rush earlier, and I forgot to make lunch for myself. Thank you, you didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

Al Haitham nods one last time before he and Kaveh disappear into the hallway.

When they were finally out of earshot, your front desk partner playfully bumps your shoulder. She grins at you, and you immediately knew she was up to no good, “I see you have someone bringing you lunch now… I wonder who he might be. Boyfriend, perhaps?”

When she says that, you couldn’t help the snort that comes out of you. You? A boyfriend? And the best operative in Sumeru, no less? When Shroomboars begin to fly.

“He’s just a friend,” You lie—or, maybe, it was a small little white lie. Al Haitham wasn’t your friend, you didn’t even know his favourite colour, but you knew him just enough to get your lie to work. Plus, you certainly weren’t lying when you denied being in a romantic relationship with him.

You are a spy, an asset specifically placed in this specific company in case someone from your faction needed immediate help. Dating was far, far off the list of things you needed to do.

“Just a friend?” She asks you, her voice full of doubt. “Dear, you can’t expect me to believe that. Friends don’t just bring each other lunch because they’re friends.”

You frown at her mindset, that was untrue. Friends do bring each other lunch from time to time. You flick her forehead. “Not everything is about romance, you know?” You stare at the wrapped food in your hands. You knew better than to play with food, but you were curious, so you squish it lightly—it was probably a sandwich.

You cough, clearing your throat. The next thing you say, now this—this was a lie, “I need to put this away. I’ll be real quick.”

“Be quick,” Your desk partner reminds. “The front doors will be opening soon.”

And that’s what you did. Quick on your feet, you find yourself in the break room in no time. When you notice that the room was deserted, you carefully unwrap the wax paper. You find a small card tucked between the wax paper and the sandwich (you were right).

Report to headquarters at 6 PM.

You flip the card around to find nothing else. You stare at the card for another moment longer. Not only did he actually know your name, but he also knew who you were—that you were an operative like him. Which now begs the question, was he just being a dick the entire time?

You shove the card in your pocket before placing the sandwich in the fridge.

Seriously. You thought to yourself, was it so hard to just tell me this in person?

Al Haitham giving you homemade sandwiches did not stop that one time.

The next morning, he gives you another one. Using the same excuse as the day before, but this time without the message from headquarters. He does it again every single day for the next week, and then the next two months. Throughout it all, he uses the exact same excuse over and over again, “You forgot your lunch again,”

On one of those mornings, you raise a brow at Kaveh. A silent question of why. What was his companion planning? Why must it be you, in particular? But, when Kaveh furrows his brows, you realise then that even his own companion had no idea—the poor guy was even confused.

“Here,” Al Haitham says, handing you the sandwich. He stops to look at you for a short moment, and begins to tap his fingers against the desk as he speaks, “It’s cheese and turkey.”

Tap, tap, tap, tap—A message.

“Oh,” Is all that you’re able to let out, despite all the thoughts racing in your mind. “Thank you again, Al Haitham.”

As he was about to leave, you stop him, “Hold on!” You pull out the box hidden in a cubby behind the desk before walking towards him, “I was making cookies last night, and I made a batch too many. So, uhm, these are for you.”

That was a lie. You made the cookies for him, and you were quite certain he knew you were lying. But, if your lie works, then it works. He didn’t need to know the truth.

He raises a brow at you, and for a glimmer of a moment, you swore you saw a smile grace his lips. It was small and subtle, but you swore you saw it. Maybe you were imagining things, maybe you were not—you were leaning toward the latter, though—but regardless of whether it was real or a mere trick of the light, you thought that smiles suited him. It made him look nicer.

“Al Haitham!” Kaveh called, letting out an annoyed groan. “Come on! What are you still doing over there?”

“Thanks,” Was all he tells you as he takes the box from you. You hold your breath for a moment, afraid his hand would brush against yours, but it doesn’t. Not even the slightest bit, and you almost let out a snort in front of him. Thankfully, you were able to stop yourself.

“Thank you,” You reply, like the fool that you are. You cough, pretending something was just stuck in your throat. “I mean, yeah, sure. No problem.”

Al Haitham nods, following his companion further down into the hall. When you were certain he was gone, you let out the breath you were holding. What the hell?

Of course, it wouldn’t, you think to yourself. Why should it? You weren’t some protagonist in a cliché romance novel scene.

You return to the front desk, peeking inside the wrapper of the sandwich he had made for you. You discreetly slip the note out, stealing a glance before shoving it into your pockets. Eyes darting towards your desk partner, you let out a sigh of relief. Good, she didn’t see.

Meet me for lunch, if you’d like, was what was written on the note. And you do, you meet him for lunch a few hours later. You find him waiting for you by the front doors, in his hand a brown paper bag—which you assumed was his packed lunch.

“Hello,” You greet politely. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“I didn’t. Let’s go?” The man begins to walk, and at first, you assumed he was going to leave you by yourself, but he doesn’t. He looks back at you, waiting for you—again. That was embarrassing.

Despite the heat that was evidently creeping onto your cheeks, dusting them with a shade of pink, with your whole chest and whatever arrogance was left in you, you decide then and there that Al Haitham wasn’t the dick you thought he was. Of course, he still wasn’t nice in your books, but he was a decent guy.

You jog up to him—at least, with your heels, you attempt to. “Thanks for the sandwich again, Al Haitham.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me every time you see me, you know?” He chuckles. You immediately look up at him in surprise. He chuckles. You’ve never heard him chuckle before. Holy archons.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me a sandwich either,” You tell him. “Actually, why do you give me a sandwich every single day? Are you trying to condition me or something?”

If you thought a chuckle was surprising enough, then you weren’t prepared for the laugh he lets out. Al Haitham laughs at your words—at the notion of you thinking you were being conditioned by him.

“I’m not, don’t worry,” He says, still laughing. “I just find making an extra sandwich for a friend therapeutic.”

At that very moment, realisation finally dawns on you. The sandwiches were because he wanted to be your friend. Al Haitham wanted to be your friend. The twists and turns he went through all because he wanted to be your… friend. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at that.

In the little moments you had been allowed to catch glimpses of him beyond the stoic exterior, you learn that he was one contradicting and ironic man. He was a man that made the most simple of things complicated, and a man who was too honest, despite the life he leads as a spy.

Al Haitham was not nice, you were definitely certain of that. He was not someone who engaged in false pleasantries to get into the good graces of people. So uncharacteristic of an operative—or, at least, that was what you think.

He was blunt—a little too honest, but you realise then that in a life where everything around you was a lie, you didn’t mind having an insanely honest man for a friend; even with all the contradictions and irony.

“Friend,” You repeat, smiling at him. “Well then, friend, would you like to have lunch with me every day from now on?”

“I see no reason as to why not,” He replies. “Friend.”

Who knew sandwiches were such a good, albeit roundabout way to make friends?

This is me experimenting with insert-reader fics. Please take my silly interpretation of Al Haitham. He's a funny guy. I am also sorry if this doesn't make sense. I'll probably rewrite this some day. I just needed to get the brainrot out of my head to continue writing off the precipice. I hope you enjoy, though!

A sleeper agent, also called sleeper cell, is a spy who is placed in a target country or organization not to undertake an immediate mission, but instead to act as a potential asset if activated.

GENSHIN MASTERLIST  |  KO-FI SUPPORT

© stcrfeesh 2020-2023 — reposts, translations, and any other form of reproduction of my work is prohibited.

#al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #reader insert #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact spy au #canon divergent genshin impact #spy au #espionage #al haitham #off the precipice #fluff #kaveh #coporate au

[thegapbetweenmoments]

New Muse Ideas!

So here is my consistent conundrum: I like writing things with what I like to refer to as notable supernatural elements. This could be a vampire character (Alicia), a necromancer (Diana and kind of Belle), a time mage (Tom), etc.

The problem with this is twofold. One issue is simply that many people aren't super interested in fantasy based things, which is 100% fair and fine, and why most of the time I just write without the supernatural bits unless otherwise specified.

The other is that even when people do want to write supernatural-ish things, sometimes the vibes don't line up with whatever it is that I made for my characters, which is why it takes a while for new characters to be made even at times like this when I'm relatively active.

SO!

Below is a list of character ideas I've come up with that I'm currently considering. If you see any on the list and go "Ooh! That sounds cool!", please let me know, because that kind of input is super helpful for this process. Doesn't matter if you're a mutual, nonmutual, never interacted before, etc (though more weight will be given to mutuals/people who've interacted before). Just drop a little response and that will give more weight to the idea. Once one or two have been figured out, I'm going to make a new post about FCs, because tbh I suck at picking those, but that is a thought for later!

The list of thoughts (under read more so that I don't take up the whole dash):

Half-devil lawyer (Honestly, this is a character I actually did use for one thread and I enjoyed a lot. I may make this one even if people don't want him, but weight and priority will likely be given to things people actually want. I've always enjoyed devil contracts as plot devices, and he might be just a smidge lawful evil)

Freed djinn nurse (General concept is that she has pretty significant powers that only work if she uses them in response to a wish. She wouldn't have to respond to every wish, and like more nefarious djinn she'd probably try to use the wording of wishes in order to bend things to work how she wants, even though she as a person is not trying to harm anyone. Job as a nurse is essentially so that she can hear wishes that are inherently more benevolent and grant or bend those to do good things)

Rune mage tattoo artist (Essentially, the thought behind this is a guy who can write a long, complicated series of glyphs as a sort of magical sentence on something and activate it to give whatever it's written on an effect. Take this to its logical conclusion and with enough time, this can be used to give magical tattoos to people that give them some type of ability or effect)

Air mage pilot (I mean the usefulness of the power is kind of obvious, but also I think she'd likely own a smaller plane of her own and generally be a bit more chaotic/daring than most of my girls on here, which is a lot of the fun behind this idea for me personally)

Blood Mage Butcher (I like when characters have these powers with crazy amounts of evil potential, who then use them for completely mundane, neutral-to-good aligned things. I think this guy is just passionate about meat and grilling. Probably early to mid thirties with wholesome dad vibes. Maybe not the route most people would go for characters they want to write with, but certainly one I find amusing)

Lightning Mage Art Thief (I'm thinking she shorts out cameras and security fixtures, then just walks up to an expensive piece art and swaps it with a replica, possibly with a nearly invisible hidden signature. Some real heist movie bullshit. Then, she goes back to some incredibly mundane or wholesome day job. Maybe an elementary school art teacher who steals to buy art supplies for class)

#OC ideas #open rp #feel free to let me know! #Thank you in advance for any input offered

[butter--peanut]

I love your fics so much, ty for writing!! But I have a question: in Kamui Blues why did Obito send Kakashi a note in the first place? Surely he knew that their dimension is connected via their Mangekyo and if he let Kakashi know someone else could use it the only logical conclusion would be someone has Obito's eye. Wouldn't he, as a mass murderer who's given everything for his plan, have been worried that Kakashi would figure it out?

Let me answer this question in 3081 words, because I’ve been wanting an excuse to write Ch1 of Kamui Blues from Obito’s PoV :)

Going to count this as Kamui Blues prompt request #13 (previous requests), t rated for swears.

Obito lay on his back, dazed, concussed, covered in leaves and dust. To his left lay a tree. It had landed with a heavy thump on his head from above, then toppled to the side, just as Obito himself had toppled backwards, momentarily blacking out from the force of impact.

He hadn’t seen it in time.

One might think that a tree-sized object would be a bit noticeable, but on the other hand, this had never happened to him before. Not in the fifteen plus years that Obito had been inhabiting this place formed by his eye. Random shit didn’t just show up in his dimension without him bringing it there in the first place.

As his hardworking Zetsu cells went into overdrive and the concussion began to ease, Obito tried to think through how this ridiculously improbable event could have happened.

Had he subconsciously brought the tree here?

Surely not. When the tree swirled through, he’d been thinking about the dream he wanted his future world to become. There were no trees that played a particularly prominent role in his dream. Just Rin and Kakashi, and the conundrum that Obito had to work through to make sure that his dream was realistic enough to be believable…

And there was no way for anyone else to access this space. This dimension was formed by his Mangekyo Sharingan, so could only be accessed via Mangekyo.

Although...

Well. There was, technically, one other person who had access to it.

Had Kakashi, after fifteen years, discovered his Mangekyo Sharingan?

He searched for Kakashi, wanting to see if his prediction was correct, and after growing steadily more annoyed at being unable to find him in his regular spots around Konoha, Obito eventually located him on a stretcher, being carried to the hospital, his pink-haired student walking beside his unconscious body looking concerned.

Chakra exhaustion, he heard Sakura say to one of the other accompanying medi-nins, watching through a sliver of a gap between his dimension and the Earth.

Chakra exhaustion.

Obito snorted, closing the portal.

It seemed Kakashi had, indeed, learnt that he had access to Mangekyo. And because he had laughable chakra reserves, the attempt to use it had caused him to pass out like a fresh pre-genin moulding chakra for the first time. What a weakling. Hardly the prodigy he used to be.

Well, that at least cleared one thing up. If this was what happened when Kakashi tried to use Mangekyo, his old teammate was hardly likely to try again. Obito once more had his dimension to himself.

Which was a good thing. He didn’t need the worthless version of Kakashi interrupting him while he spent his few hours of downtime trying to plan for the reunion with Rin and the non-worthless version of Kakashi.

Obito sat back down against the block, and closed his eye, and tried to continue his mental exercise.

Somehow, he couldn’t seem to stop opening his eye and glaring at the tree. Even half-dead and lying in the hospital bed, Kakashi was an annoyance.

Obito touched the tree and sent it far, far away, to some desolate rocky outcrop he remembered from the Land of Iron.

There. No more distraction.

He settled down again in his usual spot. Without the tree, his dimension felt oddly larger than normal. More cavernous, more empty.

-----

One month later, an acorn landed on Obito’s head.

Obito picked the tiny acorn off the floor and stared at it as though it held all the roots of this meaningless existence. Then he went again to find Kakashi.

He started from the location where he had found him on a stretcher last time and followed the lone path past patchy forest to just beyond the edge of Konoha. There he found Kakashi lying on his back in a training ground. His hitai-ate was up, but his Sharingan eye was shut tight. His other eye was open, staring up at the sky. He was very pale and breathing heavily.

After several minutes, Kakashi pushed himself up from the ground with shaking limbs and stumbled back in the direction of his apartment.

He’d tried to use Mangekyo again. He’d succeeded. And this time, he looked capable of making his way home in a fashion that wasn’t via the hospital on a stretcher.

Obito followed him to make sure, and yes. Kakashi reached his apartment building without collapsing. Kakashi looked up to his window, as though considering jumping up there, then shook his head at himself and used the front door.

Obito had underestimated him. Despite almost dying, Kakashi hadn’t given up. He’d persisted, and he’d improved his control of the jutsu.

Obito hated him and his stupid skill and perseverance so fucking much.

Would he try again? Now that he could also surely notice his improvement?

Obito had a bad feeling about this.

-----

A month and a half later, when Obito had just about given up on Kakashi trying to use the pinwheels of his Sharingan once more, he returned from Amegakure to find the ruins of a training ground waiting for him.

“Kakashi,” he said, appalled, staring at the upturned targets, the wooden logs used to construct obstacle courses, stray kunai, a handful of trees and shrubs, tape used to mark off the area. Chaos and carnage in his dimension.

How the ever-loving, ever-fucking Sage had Kakashi used his meagre resources to transport all this garbage?

He swirled to the training ground. Kakashi was there, on his knees. He did look exhausted, but mostly he just looked embarrassed.

There was nothing in front of him or behind him. The training field was empty. He’d literally sent Obito the whole training ground with his jutsu.

It made no sense. There was no way Kakashi could have had the reserves to touch each object and send it away.

Unless…

Unless his eye accessed the dimension differently than Obito’s. That did happen often with Mangekyo, one eye different from the other. Maybe Kakashi could send groups of objects at once. Maybe he didn’t need to touch them.

Whatever the reason, now that this had happened a third time, Obito knew it was going to happen again, and again, and again. The bastard was dogged in his persistence when an idea truly struck.

Obito stood back in his dimension, crossed his arms to assess the crap in front of him.

It was obvious that Kakashi was gaining greater control over the jutsu.

Which was fine, theoretically.

There were many valid reasons for Obito to hate Kakashi, but using the eye which Obito had given to him wasn’t one of them. Giving Kakashi his eye had been Obito’s last action in a world that he didn’t feel was worthless, and his final intention still meant something to him. He had wanted Kakashi to use the Sharingan: to develop himself, to see the world with his eyes, and to protect Rin after Obito had gone.

Ah. And now to one of the many valid reasons to hate Kakashi.

In any case, Kakashi improving his control of the Sharingan wasn’t a problem in itself. And with his chakra reserves as they were, Kakashi would surely never develop true skill over this jutsu. He wasn’t a threat to the plan.

He was just a pain in the ass.

Like a shitty party guest, Kakashi had trashed the apartment and hadn’t bothered to clean up.

And he was very difficult to forget about when his junk was taking up so much space.

Obito didn’t want to think about him. There was no point wasting his mental energy on the version of Kakashi who was a disgusting failure. He’d spent years stalking him in the beginning, hating him actively, crowing at Kakashi’s depression and anxiety that became so obvious when he spoke to “Obito” by the memorial stone. For his betrayal, Kakashi deserved to be lost and broken.

At one point, though, Obito had realised that the stalking was pointless. Kakashi was beneath him. He was so far beneath him that Obito hadn’t even bothered to kill him after what he had done to Rin. He shouldn’t endlessly follow people around who didn’t matter.

He’d refocused his attention on his memories of the version of Kakashi who hadn’t killed Rin; who wasn’t trash. And he’d got on with his life.

That had been a good decision. He had barely thought of the flesh and blood Kakashi for the last few years, outside of planning how he could be accounted for and manipulated to gain the Jinchuriki of the Kyuubi, given his role as Naruto’s Sensei.   

But now thinking about Kakashi seemed to be unavoidable.

-----

The straw that broke the camel’s back was a mission report, sent one month after Obito had tried and failed to exist in his dimension without thinking of Kakashi. Impossible, when he sat amongst Kakashi’s garbage. Futile, when he wondered when the next sharp or blunt object would careen in his direction. Before he knew it, he had started checking in on Kakashi like a tick, seeing if he was in Konoha or a mission, because if he was on a mission then the dimension should be safe, but if he was in Konoha then who the fuck knew.

The mission report was lying on Obito’s block when he swirled in. Obito hadn’t been here for several days, so he had no clue when it had arrived. He hadn’t been here because he’d been dealing with the utter clusterfuck that was Kiri. The hunter Ao discovering him with his Byakugan. Calling Madara out. Cancelling Obito’s genjutsu on Yagura and somehow killing the fourth Mizukage in the process. The Sanbi escaping.

Chaos, carnage. Much like what he saw in front of him now, in his dimension.

The report was mundane, messy, omitting key details, and Obito had to look down to the bottom before he could see Kakashi’s henohenomoheji signature and realise that he had written it.

He remembered Kakashi’s handwriting from when they did missions together, and it had always been perfect. Obito had tried and failed to emulate it. Now Kakashi wrote like a lazy, scrawling child.

And now Kakashi had sent him a random note, not even addressed to him. It felt — well, obviously, Kakashi had no idea that he was sending his shit through to someone on the other end, but somehow this action still stung of Kakashi’s old disregard. He’d never given Obito the time of day, and now he didn’t even bother to personally address his messages.

The failure in Kiri made Obito furious. He wanted keenly to kill someone. One person in particular: he wanted to go and pick apart the hunter piece by piece. The only reason he hadn’t was because he wanted his influence in Kiri to stay under the radar, and so far they had no definite evidence that “Madara” was the person who had set the Genjutsu on Yagura.

And he wanted to get Kakashi out of his thoughts and his dimension. Kakashi was stopping Obito’s focus on the future. With Kisame in the Akatsuki now instead of helping in Kiri, Obito had needed to be more cautious and aware of things than normal. But he had failed because stupid Kakashi wouldn’t leave his head.

Well. He couldn’t do anything to Ao. But maybe there was something he could do to stop Kakashi bothering him. Kakashi didn’t know what was happening to the objects he sent away. Maybe if he did, he’d be a little more fucking considerate.

He crumpled the mission report in his hand, and he grabbed his notebook that he sometimes used to work through complicated ideas about his future plans.

A message for a message.

On a free page he wrote,

Stop dropping your shit in my dimension, idiot.

He waited for Kakashi to return to his apartment, and then opened the portal just large enough to let his hand through, fling the note at him, and give him the middle finger. Then he swirled back away again.

He assessed the piles of crap in his dimension, drew on all the anger that made him want to rend Ao and half of Kiri in two, and he used that anger to call forth his Mokuton. Let his arms become branches, thrusting all the chaotic garbage that Kakashi had left him into a far corner of the dimension.

He looked around him. Finally, the space was free of Kakashi’s visible influence.

For precisely three seconds, he felt triumphant.

Then his anger started to dissipate, and with it some measure of rationality returned.

He groaned, sliding down against the block behind him.

That had been extremely stupid. He knew his former teammate well, and Kakashi wasn’t going to let something like a note stop him from achieving his goals.

He’d probably encouraged him.

-----

And indeed, several weeks later, Kakashi sent a book through. It would have struck his head, but Obito saw it out of the corner of his eye and flung his head back so the edge of the book hit his nose before slapping against the ground.

“What have you brought me this time, Bakashi?” he said, longsuffering, rubbing the bump on his nose.

He picked up the book and opened it on a random page.

Her plump breasts, desirous as any Sea Siren, heralded only the sweetest of pillows for Captain—

Obito slammed the book closed, feeling his face heating up.

Kakashi had responded to his complaint by sending him a romance novel?

He turned to look at the cover, feeling his eyebrows rise sky-high. Icha Icha Paradise, by the Sannin Jiraiya.

He flicked through the novel with it at arm’s length. It was trash, plain and simple. The book spent barely two paragraphs describing the main protagonist, and what descriptions were there were terrible (he had a manly strut, calf-high boots, biceps near-breaking his tunic). It quickly devolved into various sexual encounters between the Sea Captain and pirates or mermaids that he met on his voyage. They were described fairly explicitly, but also badly.

This was too much.

Kakashi knew that someone was in the dimension now, and he had chosen to send porn through?

Was he teasing him?

Because Obito wasn’t currently emotionally compromised by the strong desire kill someone, he more self-control than before. He left the book there and went about his business, glaring at it every now and then.

Until, one day, he returned from Amegakure grinding his teeth together at the slow progress toward his goal, just wanting to let off some steam. All around him were idiots who didn’t share his ideals (Nagato, Konan) or a creep who he hated who he happened to agree with (Zetsu). He’d been pursuing a single ambition for so many years, alone, and it was frustrating beyond measure that he couldn’t complain to anyone about it, or even relax here in his dimension anymore…

His eyes landed on the porn book, and he flushed a tiny bit, and then he scowled at it. Kakashi wasn’t going to make him feel embarrassed in his own dimension, for Sage’s sake.

Before he could caution himself, he grabbed that pen and paper and wrote out another missive, then dropped it and the cursed book off to Kakashi again.

Why would I have any interest in your porn, you moron?

If you’re going to drop crap all over here at least clean it up. This place is becoming a fucking pigsty.

Afterwards, wondered what sort of lunacy had overcome him that he would hint at an invitation to the dimension.

-----

One hour later, scribbling ideas to expedite his plans, Obito felt a light object settle on his head.

He snatched the single piece of paper, and started to read, and his eyes flew out wide.  

Thanks for returning the book, Hand-san!

Sorry about the mess.

I can clean up if you tell me how to get to the Kamui dimension.

If you don’t like fine adult literature, what do you like? I’m practicing, so I need to send objects through.

Obito stared at the note, processing it, for several minutes.

Several factors struggled for simultaneous dominance in his mind.

Kakashi thought he was a disembodied hand. Just how idiotic was he?

Kakashi had asked him what he liked. Kakashi would — send him things that he liked? Not just trees to knock him unconscious?

Kakashi was offering to come to the dimension. He’d picked up on Obito’s definitely-not-invitation.

Kakashi was communicating with him. For the first time in the second half of Obito’s life, he was having a conversation — albeit on text — with someone, not as Madara, or as any other character he’d played over the years, but as himself.

And Kakashi’s handwriting was still dreadful.

-----

But also — what the fuck was the Kamui dimension?

-----

Kamui was a nice word for their dimension, Obito would admit, in the wake of Kakashi’s next letter, holding the now-empty box of dango that Kakashi had sent to him.

Their dimension, yes. Well, Obito could hardly call it his dimension anymore. Not now that Kakashi had access to Kamui. Not when his shit was taking up the space physically and he himself was taking up the space mentally.

It was a bad idea to keep communicating with him; Obito did know this. So he stopped: wrote something curt and dismissive, and decided it would be his last letter.

He didn’t write to Kakashi for many months.

But Kakashi still wrote to Obito. He wrote stories about his life. He drew pictures for Obito. And he sent him gifts. Stupid things that Obito definitely hated, because Kakashi was blatantly trying to manipulate him into learning more about his ability, and the fact that Obito had never been given gifts by anyone since his own gift to Kakashi didn’t matter, didn’t matter at all.

This was the status quo. Obito spending some of his time in Amegakure or swirling to different parts of the Elemental Nations, checking on the Akatsuki and his plans. But now that he didn’t have to be the Mizukage in Kiri, he filled most of those hours in Kamui, waiting for Kakashi’s next correspondence; or in Konoha, watching Kakashi go about his days, aware he’d fallen back into the habits of his youth but not quite able to bring himself to do something else with his time.

Until finally, Kakashi went back to his own bad behaviour and dropped a forest on Obito.

#bp shortfic #bp answers #kb prompts #kamui blues #obkk #kkob #kakaobi #oh and to answer the last bit of your question which I didn’t directly answer in the story #I don’t think Obito expected Kakashi to figure it out #At least not in the beginning #Mangekyo abilities are mysterious and there could have been many different explanations for a random nin being in kamui #and he didn’t know Kakashi had seen his eye after all #which would of course have been the biggest hint

[silverlininghills]

answering the question "are clancy and tyler the same person?" once and for all

SO.

clancy.

one of the biggest narrative sticking points for both the fandom at large as well as me specifically has been the question of whether tyler and clancy are the same person. many people point to clancy's letter description of the events of the jumpsuit music video as proof that they're not, while others point to the reference to the "out of body account of the rider in the river" as proof that they are. it definitely felt like a contradiction to me when i was first diving into the lore last year. and while i understood that this narrative was a) being told in a very non-traditional manner and b) extremely fluid and almost dreamlike in its overall structure, that contradiction still bothered me.

and then i had an epiphany: clancy wasn't tyler, and now he is. it's simple, really.

let me explain:

the theory that i had initially come up with to try to explain the discrepancy, at least to myself, was that clancy was tyler's avatar within the narrative (basically his self-insert). he was the "jumpsuit" that tyler covered himself with in order to exist in this fictional world. so while he may exist independently of clancy (such as in the trench trilogy), he also existed as clancy when needed (such as during the events of the SAI livestream and music videos). the distinction between the two still felt weirdly uhhh consistently inconsistent to me, but i figured either we were missing a piece or that that was just how the narrative was meant to feel.

but then!! yesterday!! i was doing research for the aforementioned blurryface = clancy theory, and i stumbled upon an interview with andrew donoho, who directed all the "lore" music videos for the band. i have no idea how like, well known this interview is amongst the fandom, but I've yet to see anyone refer to it when discussing the "is clancy tyler" conundrum, despite the fact that it includes some VERY interesting bits:

"The daunting part was, they built this entire world--everything from Clancy to Tyler's role, to the band's role, to different pieces of TRENCH, all this stuff--and I had to find a way to bite off a nine-minute piece of that.

"...imagine reading Lord of the Rings and they say, 'Okay, so don't make anything that's in the novels, but make something in this world, and it can only be nine minutes and it has to be profound and show everything and have every single tie into the the allegory and the metaphor of the album.' Like, great."

to me, this pretty conclusively confirms that the events of the trench trilogy were not meant to be clancy, but instead either a) tyler himself or b) yet another dema inhabitant who was just played by tyler.

to drive that point home even further, andrew goes on to describe the actual creation process for dmaorg:

The Clancy story was something really fun. The first meeting with everybody we were talking about like how we would market TRENCH and if there was a way to open up the world to the super-fans that wanted to know more with a story that wasn't Tyler’s story. Because, again, they built this world that was so rich.

welp. there it is. a story that wasn't Tyler's story. Clancy was intended to be just another inhabitant of Dema whose story would be told, not through the album, but purely through the posts on dmaorg.

there's also this quote from tyler the first time he was asked about clancy in an interview:

Clancy's uh... I've heard about him. But I don't-- I don't-- I know we're from the same place.

"heard about" but not met. all he knows is that they're from the same place (dema).

so that settles it then, right? Clancy ≠ Tyler. so glad we could clear that up!

...not quite.

because here's the thing. this is not tyler and josh's story. twenty one pilots is not tyler and josh's band.

it's ours. and so is this story.

don't just take my word for it, either:

TJ: This record is… They really did help write it. This thing wouldn't be breathing without them. They helped create this world, as well.

TJ: They are also building the world, like I said. We’re very… Not to come off as on that stalker level, but I do watch them. […]what does that fan that really understands and has tracked with me up until this point -- how is this hitting them? And the story builds from there, man.

TJ: Once the fans got a hold of it and started to digest it it even brought it more to life you know? Watching the story come to life. So I'm excited to dive back into it at some point.

now, here's where i came up short: i swear i read or listened to an interview where tyler specifically talks about making changes to the story based on fan interpretations/ideas, but i cannot for the life of me find it now. if anyone remembers when or where (or if!) he said that and has a link, it would be immensely appreciated. but regardless, it's safe to say that we are all active participants in the creation of this story.

and what is something that we consistently speculated about, pretty much right from the moment we met clancy?

that he and tyler were the same person.

now, note the timeline here: they had probably already created at least the first couple clancy letters by the time dmaorg went live + was found by fans; same with the original trilogy of music videos (donoho specifically mentioned working on the treatments while dmaorg was being updated--and mentioned not being told about the updates ahead of time!). the last letter went live july 18th, exactly one week after the release of the jumpsuit music video, and tbh it sounds like the end of clancy's story, especially based on the narrative arc of both the trilogy and the album as a whole. clancy has left dema, is both frightened and enthralled by trench, and wonders both where he's going and whether leaving in the first place might’ve been a mistake. i fully believe this was intended to be the end of clancy's story.

but again. tyler and his team aren't the only ones telling it.

so what happened after that post? well, the album was released, tyler and josh rejoined social media, they did a bunch of fan press conferences, and then they toured a bunch.

and what did the clique do? well, they created. i wasn't around during that time, but i've seen enough clique art and meta and musings to get an idea of what the reaction was. it was clear that a) people were FASCINATED by trench and dema and all the rest of it and also b) that people LOVED clancy. they speculated about his history, his future, his connection to tyler, his place in the overall narrative.

they brought him to life.

and so clancy lived. the next dmaorg update coincided with the chlorine music video and revealed that he had been "returned" to dema by keons. bleak and ambiguous as the letter may have been, it was proof that clancy's story wasn't over just yet.

tantalizingly, tyler also revealed in an interview in march 2019 (so after clancy's "resurrection" but obviously before the world imploded and their plans got waylaid) that the next album would feature “a character that hasn’t been talked about on any record yet that plays a huge role in the narrative". was this clancy, who tyler had already confirmed "wasn't on [trench]"? or was this someone completely new?

welp, who knows because almost exactly one year later covid happened and everything got thrown out the window.

...except then the LOC ARG happens and the clique finds an encoded message on tyler's TV that says Clancy Is Dead, and then the name of the next album + accompanying Feature Performance Event is released and it turns out to be an anagram which also states that Clancy Is Dead.

so was he?

well, the clique had learned a couple other things by that point, such as:

1) SAI is propaganda

2) the views and opinions expressed on [Scaled and Icy] are those of the Sacred Municipality of Dema

and of course,

3) we don't believe what's on TV

so like. yeah. "clancy is dead". sure he is. whatever the truth may be, at least the fans knew not to take anything coming from the band at that point at face value.

as far as the SAI era goes, i think the most important thing to note is that, while writing the album, tyler himself didn’t even know if it would be a continuation of the narrative or not:

TJ: So the question is, with shows off the table for the time being, does this mean we should hit pause on this narrative? Or do we somehow try to weave it into the narrative, which is not totally the intention? I’m not really sure which direction we’re gonna go yet. 

personally, i suspect they were leaning more towards the “not” side of things. the livestream definitely takes place within the world of dema, but it’s not really a continuation of the story so much as a technicolour fever dream (appropriate for the height of a viral pandemic i guess lol). once again, like dmaorg, i believe tyler expected this album to be an accompaniment to the lore, but not itself part of the story. 

i have a whole, like, interpretation and breakdown of the “story” of the livestream that i am not gonna get into here bc this thing is already a beast, but suffice it to say that the livestream reads a lot more like an in-universe retelling of tyler’s story than anything else. does it heavily feature imagery and themes from the lore? yeah, of course. but it exists in this weird wonderland-esque dreamspace anyway, so that makes sense to me. 

anyway. yeah. livestream as originally intended = not part of the dema/trench storyline.

and yet. you know the clique and their tendency to take the things the band gives them and run with them. i definitely have seen lots of speculation regarding whether tyler is tyler in the livestream or clancy, and i can’t say that i blame people for wondering! again, the ambiguous nature of the narrative lends itself to multiple interpretations. do i think it was intended that way at first? nah. but once again, the clique made the story their own, and tyler had no choice but to try to keep up.

the next time we hear from clancy isn’t until almost a full year after the livestream–well, okay, we get another lil “clancy is dead” easter egg in the saturday music video, but that’s nothing we haven’t heard before (nice try though tyler). what really fascinates me is the almost complete 180 in terms of tone and narrative structure between the first two music videos + livestream—all of which were created before the fans had been introduced to the new era—and the saturday + the outside mvs, which would’ve been created after. in my opinion, that’s where we once again see the clique’s influence at work. suddenly the narrative is not only back but barreling forward. the SAI era is no longer a diversion but a true continuation.

with that return to form comes clancy’s first letter in over three years, and wouldn’t’cha know it, it perfectly describes the events of the livestream AND the saturday music video, thereby confirming that clancy is tyler after all! mystery solved! thank you for coming to my—

—except, wait. the evidence so clearly pointed to clancy not being tyler before. tyler himself even said so! what gives? was tyler lying then? is clancy lying now? is there some secret third option that no one has considered yet?

…well, yeah. there kind of is. the third option is that both have been and still are true, because as the story hasn’t just progressed, it’s changed. changed because it stopped existing just inside tyler’s head, or in the 60 page trench bible; it started existing out here, with us. it changed because we changed it. we reached our collective hands into the narrative and pulled our blorbo from the brink of oblivion and shoved him right back into the narrative where he belongs. when you really think about it, that makes us the ghost in the machine. the implications of that idea alone make my head spin.

anyway, we get one more letter from clancy the very next day to coincide with the release of the outside’s music video. in it, he contemplates the new psychokinetic power he’s received, how familiar it feels, and he begins to understand. he may be referring to the bishops and vialism, but as always, the narrative trappings of this world are merely a reflection of ours. because yes, you can look at it as clancy gaining the ability to possess “available vessels” using the antlers of a magical creature. but you can also look at it as the moment when tyler officially became clancy in the narrative using the power of creativity and imagination (and, of course, a little help from some friends), and in so doing, gained the power to maybe, finally, turn the tide in this seemingly endless internal war. after all, as the caption on this instagram post says:

this is a story about cycles, and trying to break them. about discerning between external and internal attacks. and about balance. a balance between being saved by a friend, and saving yourself.

in summary: i truly don’t believe clancy and tyler were ever intended to be the same person. what he was meant to be (a facet of tyler, a representative of the clique, or someone/something else entirely), i’m not sure, though of course i have my theories. honestly, i don’t believe clancy was meant to exist beyond the handful of letters we got from him in 2018. i believe the only reason he endured is because we willed him to. and now, as we head into the endgame of this incredible story we’ve all been creating together, this character (who was destined to die by his creator but was saved by his fans) has become perhaps the most important player on the board. and personally? i can’t wait to see what he becomes next.

#twenty one pilots #lore #dema #clancy #trench #TØP #connecting the dots #my meta #mostly written while sleep deprived at 2 in the morning so like. be gentle with me #feels good tho to actually be WRITING meta instead of just incoherently screaming abt it #god it seems so obvious to me now #like this is barely even a revelation #it's just like. basic reading comprehension #in any case i hope ppl find this interesting #would love to hear your thoughts #anyway time to go pass out now

[commehter]

Does nobody ask questions about your fics here?? despite the links? Anyways, here from AO3, and curious about your 'The Spirit Tale of Fire Lord Ozai' fic. I'm curious about what Iroh thinks of the extremely dramatic shift in personality Zu-Ozai has displayed.

To be fair, the links are fairly new. My previous policy was simply to avoid spoilers entirely, but I realized recently that tumblr might be a platform that would allow me to talk worldbuilding and such without posting spoilers where they could be as easily stumbled over as the comments section directly attached to the AO3 story in question.

Now then, on to your real question!

Iroh assumes most of the changes he sees are spirit work and Zu-Ozai has encouraged that conclusion in a few instances. His brother's newly revealed knowledge of his borderline treasonous activities with and for the White Lotus terrifies him, and Zu-Ozai's decision to thus far spare him likewise frightens him because he has no explanation for it that he trusts. (Agni hasn't been particularly protective of him, and Iroh doesn't know of any other spirit that might be, either. So, spirit intervention isn't an excuse he can apply to cover that particular conundrum.) He's suspicious and curious over the 'reforging' he has heard mentioned time and again, but he has not had success in researching it. (And he won't, as long as he is going off human records, as it is a practice solely among spirits. The closest instances to a reforging (involving a mortal body) before Zu-Ozai are the Avatar's creation/reincarnation and Tui's gift to Yue shortly after her birth. Agni is pulling a seriously experimental stunt -- and La is lurking in the background waiting for it to fail because the pessimist fish has no faith.)

I also have some worldbuilding going on in the background that hasn't come up in fic. I'll go into further detail in the following sentences, but the big takeaway is that Iroh never knew Ozai well enough to notice a good chunk of the differences between his original brother and Zu-Ozai. I'm running with the idea that there is a large age-gap between the brothers. 17 years, to be precise. I'm also playing with the idea that Iroh and Ozai could have been half-brothers. They're not 'estranged' because they've never been close to begin with. By the time Ozai (the spare, so to speak) was born, Iroh was a late-teens boy chasing after pretty girls. Interactions with his step-mother had always been awkward (she dies during childbirth, btw) and Iroh was no less uncertain about going from an only child to the drastically older brother of an infant upon Ozai's arrival into the world. There's never a demand placed on him to have much to do with the younger prince and so he more or less ignores his brother's existence for several years. It's about the time Iroh and his wife are expecting Lu Ten that he starts to show any substantial interest in Ozai, who is 11-12 by then, but even so, Iroh is building his own family and Ozai remains at the edges of it.

Since losing first his wife, and then later his son, followed by his father, Iroh has re-evaluated how he views familial ties and their importance. Upon returning to the Fire Nation after his year-long wandering, he chose not the fight for the throne but Ozai still kept him at a distance that made Azulon seem like a warm man. Azula, of course, followed her father's example. And so Zuko, likewise lonely and rejected, is the only one with whom Iroh has had any success fostering a familial bond with -- though that is still limited because Zuko desperately wants his father's approval and Ozai never hid how little he thinks of Iroh.

Then the Agni Kai goes sideways and suddenly Ozai is persistently, aggressively, unrelentingly determined to seek Iroh out for his company, council, and assistance, going so far as to argue with Agni over an oath made to win Iroh's trust. He's rightly suspicious of the change in personality, but he also can't help the desperate and selfish hope growing in his battered heart that he might be able to reclaim what's left of his family. (To say nothing of what these changes would/will mean for the White Lotus and the wider world.)

To sum it all up, Iroh is torn between his doubts and desires, leaving him cautiously hopeful, terribly confused, and scared out of his mind. He's lost a lot of family and is going with the flow right now because, until he has more information and a chance to catch his breath, he doesn't know what else to do.

Back to SToFLO on AO3 or RR.

#commehterask #the spirit tale of fire lord ozai #spirit tales asks #spirit tales spoilers #ao3 #royal road #fanfiction #fanfic #worldbuilding #avatar the last airbender #atla #iroh #zuko #ozai #zu-ozai #fire nation #family #brothers #fire nation royal family

[bioexorcizm]

ship: junto

wc: 1118

summary: just a relaxing night in ❤️, my half of a trade with @canonjunto

Sometimes, a forty hour, five day work week almost seemed desirable. 

That is, when you compared it to the non-committal, absolute mess of a schedule that Torchwood offered. Very rare were the days that they could relax fully, without being bothered in some way, called to HQ for some reason or another. And so the few times they could, they reveled in it.

Not too long ago, Ianto might have spent the night on the fraying couch they'd shoved into one of the many cluttered corners. But nowadays, he wished for nothing more than to be able to sleep at home. In fact, he wished even more to be able to finally relax -- something he could never have seen himself wanting in his past. Alas, things have changed. The presence of one very exhausted live-in boyfriend proved that much. Yes, Ianto Jones preferred these days to be at home, to have time for just the two of them, away from the team and the chaos they brought alongside themselves.

Well, until it actually came to it.

Now that the two of them had nestled in for the night, they simply sat, rather confused. These occurrences were so infrequent -- that is, times they got the night alone; it wasn't often they were faced with the decision of what to do with said time. Juette was the first to speak.

“Dinner, maybe?”

Ianto nods, “Good idea.”

Another silence, as Ianto stands near the doorway, shrugging off his suit blazer but standing his ground. Juette falls into the couch with a tired sigh. They meet eyes after a moment, stirring thoughts reaching the same conclusion. They speak at the same time.

“Take-out.”

A chuckle from Ianto follows, his smile lingering as he sees his grinning partner making himself comfortable.

“Where from?”

A question just as difficult as their previous conundrum. Ianto pulls his tie loose, and joins Juette on the couch, breathing out the tension he'd been harboring, shoulders dropping as he closes his eyes.

“Something that delivers, hopefully.”

He hears a hum of vague agreement.

“...Do you know anywhere close by?”

Juette opens an eye, “I was hoping you did. It's your apartment.”

“Ours.”

“Conjecture.”

They both lean back, sinking into the plush of the sofa. 

“There's that Thai place down the road.”

“They deliver?”

“No. Pizza?”

“Eh. What about that pop-up taco place a couple blocks down?”

“Not quite in the mood.”

A contemplative silence settles over the den. 

“Eat in?”

“Eat in.”

Ianto springs from the couch with a newfound energy, striding purposefully towards the kitchen and beginning to rustle through the cabinets.

He pulls a few boxes of instant-meals from the cupboard, before looking over the potential meal of…Mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and cake mix.

He glances towards Juette, who had snugly fitted himself against the arm of the couch and was now browsing the nightly TV lineup, and then back to the counter. He resigns to the fridge, peeking through the empty shelves and barren drawers, mirroring the actions with the freezer. He huffs, leaning into the linoleum countertop as he closes the icebox with a resounding and empty, echoing thud. 

“How's a snack night sound?”

“Hm?” he hears Juette draw his attention. 

“We don't have much in the way of a cohesive meal,” Ianto raises his voice, “So I was thinking…Something out of the ordinary.”

“Everything in our lives is out of the ordinary, babe.”

Ianto feels his face heat at the nickname, and he fumbles for a few minutes as he gathers the bowls and plates required to set out their spread of snacks and assorted, mismatched entrees. With their fine dining set for feasting, laid bare on the coffee table, Ianto retreats to the bedroom for just enough time to return in flannel pants, and an old t-shirt, some band name he can scarcely remember a song from scrawled across it. It's faded, worn, but comfortable. Much like the feeling he seemed to want to chase this evening.

He returns to a boyfriend who is just as cozy, now wrapped in tattered pajamas himself, and a shag throw blanket draped about his shoulders.

“What's good on TV?”

Juette pops a pretzel into his mouth, nodding towards the guide. 

“Absolutely nothing. All yours, if you'd like to take a crack at it.”

He takes the chance, browsing channels with various shows, syndicated movies and outdated (even to his own time’s standards, he can only imagine Juette’s opinion on them comparatively) series, landing finally on some reality schlock.

“Your choice of television for tonight is…Big Brother?”

Ianto chuckles lowly, a flick of his eyes towards him before he stretches out, eagerly taking hold of the trail mix bowl.

“Something so fascinating about supposed reality TV, no? It's just so…”

“Fake.”

“Yeah. But in a nice way. Makes our lives seem a bit less frustrating, makes you a bit more appreciative towards the strangeness, don't you think?”

“I don't understand.”

“I mean, if only my biggest problems were ‘my life is being broadcast to the country’ and ‘my caviar arrived to the brunch table before I did,’ know what I mean?” 

“Can't say I’m entirely familiar with the concept.”

“Well, me either. But that's what makes it. Most people watch this stuff because their lives are boring. I think I’ve come to enjoy it because I know my life is more exciting.”

“Our lives.”

“Yeah,” Ianto moves just a bit closer, allows himself to be embraced by his boyfriend, the blanket encasing their combined warmth, “Our lives.”

“I guess I understand what you're saying. But I like when things are boring, sometimes.”

He feels Juette’s hands wrap around his arm, his head rest against his shoulder. He breathes him in, the weight a familiar kind of comfort, not just now but every day, at home and in the field, at HQ and every other place. He could find this comfort in their time no matter where they were, and especially now in the serene late hours, when the city has mostly died down, the distant urban bustle a hushed whisper in comparison to the flat they shared, tucked into an innocuous corner of an innocent neighborhood. 

And now, as they watched some garbage show, surrounded by quite possibly the worst meal they'd have shared since their relationship began, tired and dozing but warm and at ease, Ianto wonders if every day of strange, new, possibly dangerous curiosity and alien experiences (quite literally most times) is worth coming home to comforts like these.

He looks down, presses a kiss to the top of Juette’s head as he breathes evenly, having fallen asleep long ago, rested perfectly against his own form.

Yes. It was well worth it.

#.trades #<3 ty again tee hees.

[disasterbijamietartt]

It hurts my heart how excited and happy Jamie was to go for a beer with Roy and whennRoy said how proud he was of him. I'm preferring to ignore the following part, but it did make me happy them realising they were being stupid and going for a kebab so Im hoping that was just a stupid lapse of sense. Although it is making me side eye Roy especially for behaving that way knowing Jamie's past.

Ugh, yes, the latter half of the bar talk really didn't sit right with me.

It started out so great, but then it made a u-turn …

You know, I understand why they brought up the love triangle with Roy and Jamie, since their feelings for Keeley was something that was still standing between the and that they needed to talk about, but I didn’t like the execution of them getting needlessly sexist about it (bringing up the sex tape, really? And Roy’s whole “stay away from her, we are talking again so she is clearly mine — although, women, who understands them?”).

I could even accept the fist fight as some sort of necessary catharsis for them, if it wouldn’t be for Jamie’s history with abuse and him just two minutes earlier saying how Roy gave him something positive he didn’t get from the other older men in his life. (I’ll assume Simon wasn’t that much into football, so he wasn’t as motivational and didn’t train with him etc., otherwise just … ouch.) And the thing is also, all of Roy’s jealousy aside … they never actually fought over Keeley, which was the part I found so refreshing about the way the love triangle was handled. But, yeah, I can see how there was some lingering animosity that had to get settled before they truly could be best friends. But they could done that without actually fist fighting …

The whole asking Keeley to choose thing was … quite arrogant of them and icky, but good for them to realise they were being idiots and that it apparently didn't mess with their friendship.

Still, I would have preferred if they hadn't come to the conclusion, that Keeley should chose (with her choice being neither for good reason), but that they had used this opportunity to talk with her about their feelings for her and that they needed to know where they were standing with her to find closure. And then them having an actual conversation adressing their conundrum and how it would be best for all of them to stay friends, yadda yadda.

Like, the thing that annoys me most is, that we didn’t get a follow up, no apology to Keeley for acting so stupid. She kicked them out, which was the right thing to do, but I'd wished they had actually talked things out.

It is nice to have it so open that you can interpret it whichever way you want, but after seeing the trio's blooming friendship last episode this felt like such a step back in their relationship. I just would have loved to get a little bit more resolution, to have them properly established as friends.

Especially if you read the montage as something only happening in Ted’s dream—like, that is the only way I can excuse Beard’s and Jane’s wedding (with Ted not being present on top?) and Jamie visiting James and laughing with him. (I saw so many people on reddit being moved to tears by Jamie reconciling with his “dad”, like, yeah, applause for years of abuse and trauma being ignored in order to get a sappy ending. Like, if the show had at least acknowledged the abuse and shown James taking accountability, BEFORE Jamie decides to reconnect, but yeah, no one has to ever be accountable to Jamie, soo … And it is especially upsetting considering they added sexual abuse to the long list of James’ crimes just to … completely drop this, as if it didn’t matter. They could have made Jamie’s first trip to Amsterdam traumatic in other ways, if the contrast between bad trip with dad and good trip with mum was all they wanted to accomplish …)

On a side note: Jamie enjoying and missing drinking beer threw me off, since he never seemed to be too fond of alcohol, but they probably wanted to get the Darsteiner callback in. Way more important than consistent characterisation.

#ted lasso spoilers #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #my answers

[tobiasdrake]

Alas, if only it were that easy. Obviously the plot is not going to let us get away with that.

Alright, let's share our suspicions as to who the imposter is.

Setting aside my joke about Zange, this is a conundrum. I mean, it's obviously Aphex, but that's precisely why it's obviously not Aphex. He's a total fucking prick all the time to everyone. Reeks of Bad Guy Energy with every word out of his mouth.

The culprit is never the asshole. The asshole might die or he might inexplicably become your pal, or maybe he'll just stay an asshole all the way through. But he's never the culprit, because that's way too easy--

Although if he's going to call attention to it like that, then maybe it is him. A line like this coming straight out of the asshole's mouth feels like it might be there to revoke his "It's never the asshole" protections. Hmm.

Mm, maybe. We'd have to assume the assailant had their own uniform and forged letter ready to go. A badge too, given that everyone but Kokohead seems to have one. Weird that they'd take his badge and not his letter since they obviously can't use the badge but they can use his letter. Unless, of course, Yuma's the imposter.

This isn't really an imposter situation so much as an impersonation of officer one. Whoever took Yuma's place is not literally impersonating Yuma, but is instead falsely misrepresenting themselves as a Master Detective.

But Aphex is drawing conclusions from facts not in evidence. We have no proof that Yuma's assault is connected to the impersonation in the first place. He could have just been mugged or accidentally tripped and knocked himself out or something.

Nobody here was directly told that there would only be five people; Melami and Pucci both just happened to overhear that snippet. So unless the assailant is one of them (or also happened to overhear it) there's no reason the misrepresenter would go out of their way shore up the numbers like this. If Zilch, Zange, or Aphex were the imposter, there's a strong chance that they wouldn't bother attacking Yuma. (Though if they also overheard the number, they would.)

It's a possibility but not a certainty and we should keep that in mind as we move forward with investigation.

Oooo, Fashionista's judging you on your stupid fucking hat. As she rightly should. It's hideous.

High five, Melami.

A plausible scenario but, ultimately, baseless conjecture. Whether this is a true mystery or a test disguised as a mystery changes little about the situation or facts present in evidence. Sorry, Pucci, but this is speculation, not deduction. We'd still need to solve the case either way.

Wait, have we not done that? Has nobody actually been to the other cars on this train? Are we standing around speculating about the sixth guest without checking to see if there's a seventh, eighth, ninth, etc.?

Aphex is right, this is way too early to be drawing conclusions. We should shut the fuck up and go look at the--

Or he can just use his Therapy Scanner to detect the presence of sympathy onboard. That works too.

Unfortunately, though Aphex detected not a single shit given towards him, that's far from conclusive evidence of no other people on account of how bad he sucks. So we'll need to get a second opinion.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code

[tinya-us]

Picture this: You're standing in front of your closet, contemplating your outfit for the day. Your hand brushes against a linen shirt, and you pause, pondering its eco-friendly reputation. Is linen truly a sustainable choice, or are there hidden environmental costs lurking beneath its breezy facade?

The Breath of Fresh Air

Linen enthusiasts praise its breathability and versatility, citing it as the perfect summer fabric for its ability to keep you cool and comfortable in the sweltering heat. Derived from the resilient flax plant, linen boasts impressive sustainability credentials – it requires minimal water and pesticides to cultivate compared to conventional cotton, making it a darling of the eco-conscious fashion movement.

The Environmental Nightmare

However, detractors argue that linen's eco-friendly image is not without its flaws. The production process can be resource-intensive, requiring significant energy and water inputs, particularly in the harvesting and processing stages. Additionally, concerns have been raised about the impact of linen cultivation on biodiversity and soil health, particularly in regions where flax farming is prevalent.

My Thoughts

As I reflect on the linen conundrum, I find myself grappling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, I appreciate linen's breathability and timeless elegance, viewing it as a welcome alternative to synthetic fabrics with their environmental drawbacks. On the other hand, I acknowledge the need for greater transparency and accountability in the fashion industry, ensuring that our clothing choices align with our values of sustainability and stewardship of the planet.

Conclusion

In the end, the debate surrounding linen clothing is nuanced and multifaceted. While it offers undeniable benefits in terms of breathability and sustainability, it also poses challenges in terms of its environmental impact and production practices. As consumers, we have the power to drive change by making informed choices and supporting brands that prioritize sustainability and ethical practices.

#linen #tinya #Fashion

[aragarna]

WIP!

🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Also

❤️

So many LOL

There's the aforementioned WC/Forever crossover, which I don't know where to take from where I stopped.

There's a multichapter Zorro fic that I started a while ago and had put on pause cause I couldn't decide if I wanted to have Diego be in a relationship or not. I've spent 6 months going back and forth (in my head) about this. On the one hand, me being a woman in love with Diego, I kinda tend to imagine him in a relationship. But on the other hand, as an asexual currently single, I want more fics where the hero can be happy without love being the end game. So, would I make it part of the Rosarita universe, or not? Hence the blockage cause I have to decide who comes and finds him. The conversation would be a bit different whether it's his wife Rosarita, his father, or Bernardo LOL

(for the record, I recently came back to this fic and I decided for a single Diego, who realizes he has the village's love and that's all that matters)

There was also that sequel to the Rosarita fic (The Heart of Zorro), so obviously with Rosarita this one, but it's not working the way I wanted. A problem with a narration form I'm not used to. And then, for that specific universe, the next conundrum: do they have kids or not LOL (I kinda like the idea of a daughter finding out about her dad being the town's hero)

Oh and a couple of White Collar ficlets that need a good conclusion.

And that's only half of my WIPs and ideas LOL Now all I need is time to write all of this!

Thanks for the love and for the ask <3

#a meme! #my creative brain has rarely been such a mess

[rose-reads-visualnovels]

With your analysis conundrum, it might be good to remember the title screen blurb for this first arc.

"Welcome to Rokkenjima. The Golden Witch extends her heartfelt greetings. Please, take it easy and relax for the time being.

There's no need to think overly hard about any of this. Quietly accept all that is about to happen. That is all that is being asked of you.

The difficulty level is standard. We might as well at least start by taking the easy road."

In other words, both from a cold facts and an emotional subtext perspective, you are on the easiest arc because you're still getting your bearings. But to echo what others have said, without considering the conclusions you've come to, your approach so far has been good!

I’ll be honest I thought that was just the game trying to lie to me 😔

But if you guys think this is a legit advice from Ryukishi07 to take things easier then maybe I’ll try!

— Rose, the Revolutionary Witch

#anon ask #askbox