#but those are all just the avatar consequences - all the outside consequences

[ranger-kellyn]

OH WAIT

in light of me reading the Imbalance comic, where Suki teaches a bunch of non-benders how to chi block, do we think Amon's henchmen who can chi block are like. an unintended consequence of Suki teaching them?? like how apparently Kyoshi originally trained the Dai Li and came to regret it because of how corrupt they became?

[patricia-taxxon]

I want to address what’s being said about me regarding my behavior as a teenager, because some of it is true. However, more of it is greatly distorted, and some of it is false. I won’t be reproducing the video that was made about me, the creator has acknowledged the misinformation present in it & has unlisted it, willingly ceding ground for me to give my own testimony. Some of it will require me to admit to things I am still ashamed of, some of it will require me to revisit a traumatic time in my life that I have mostly blocked out. The short version is that I believe I was being groomed at the same time and in the same place as many of the people who came out against me, and my ultimate goal is to find solidarity with those people and begin the healing process. 

When I was 18, and just beginning to accrue an audience, I created a discord server. For a lot of external reasons, mainly spending my entire life up until this point being shuttled around different special ed schools, this ended up being the first real social circle I ever had. It represented the first positive attention I ever received from strangers. It’s a time where I made a lot of mistakes, it’s a time where I was gravely vulnerable. In all honesty, I was too young to manage a community of any kind, I was hot off the back of being desensitized in my adolescence by unrestricted access to early 2010s internet. I knew well enough to create special NSFW rooms, and was advised later to create further division by requiring users to self-apply for a special NSFW role to access those rooms This extra layer meant that the rooms wouldn’t even show up for people who didn’t have the role, which led to some believing they didn’t exist. 

However, I did not intuitively understand the “meaning” of sexual content, I didn’t understand the baggage that came with it. I used cropped fetish porn as emotes and indiscriminately showed the source to anyone who asked, sometimes outside of the NSFW rooms, because I found niche fetishes to be amusing, and since it was “funny” and not “sexy” it didn’t have to mean anything. The worst consequence of this happened when I was first formulating the ideas for my video about youtuber Rags, and I discovered that his youtube avatar was cropped from a NSFW image he had commissioned of his feral dog fursona. I sent this image to just about anyone who seemed interested, and this included a then 13 year old. I’m going to apologize just like I did when this first came out, but I will not be pressured as I was then into assuming predatory intent in myself. I’m not making excuses when I say that I had been a legal adult for under a year and thought of it as just an interaction between two teenagers, a kind of interaction I had with many of my friends (and some adults) before I turned 18. It was a misunderstanding, *and* I hurt you, and I’m deeply deeply sorry. 

There were some moderators besides myself, two were teenagers around my age, early adopters of the server who I felt I’d become friends with. One was a woman in her late twenties, who I won’t name simply because I’m not in the business of offloading my misery onto other people, but she knows who she is. She contacted me with a shower of attention & adoration, she left positive reviews for my albums when she noticed I was upset at their critical reception, she oversaw me as I posted my nudes in that server and later on my main twitter account. She encouraged this behavior in myself and others and participated in it too.

I want to make this clear, the bulk of the allegations against me boil down to punishing me for failing to surmise I was being exploited by the first social group I ever had. I jerked off in voice chats. I remember the day I started, I was surrounded by people older than me who were encouraging me to post my first nude pic in the self-nsfw channel, and I had to get hard for them first. I then considered this normal and did it often. At one point a 15 year old entered the room while I was doing it, and I went quiet until she left. I reconvened with this 15 year old recently, and she told me she only remembers being promptly told to leave. The claim that I “regularly jerked off in voice chat with minors” as if it were an orchestrated and habitual activity is an outright falsehood.  

I remember posting my nudes on twitter in a fevered haze of dissociation and dysphoria after being goaded by other users in my discord server. I remember doing it again and again, so that it could maybe eventually feel normal. I was 18, going on 19. I had twenty to thirty thousand subscribers, I was hot off the heels of being given 150 bucks for making thirty minutes of music for a much bigger youtuber. There are others who were in that server who were similarly exploited, and I am not here to contradict those testimonies, but I was uniquely denied the ability to understand what had happened to me as grooming, because I was technically of age and I had the very beginnings of a youtube audience. However, 20k subs didn’t give me more power than someone over ten years my senior. 

I was groomed, and just as I was beginning to understand what happened to me, the shame threatening to overtake me completely, I was slapped with the supposed news that I was the sole perpetrator of the entire situation that traumatized me so, that what I thought of as my first friend group all remembered me as a loathsome creep. The apology I wrote in abject panic was dissected and used as a cudgel against me in police-interrogation fashion, so I became afraid to say anything. A year and a half later, I made a post saying that I had been “groomed by a portion of my audience” and this immediately provoked a youtube video callout. I feel as if I have been beaten into silence and complicity, unable to form thoughts of my own regarding my experience. I am terrified, right now, writing this story that I firmly believe no one on earth will buy, because I have come to routinely doubt my own testimony.

Some accusations being made of me are so foreign that I have trouble piecing together what it could be referring to. I commissioned a NSFW size difference piece from dramamine, one where my lover is 11 feet tall, and I was pre transition at the time so I wanted a flat chest to help me feel feminine in my current body. It was wrongly tagged as “cub” (furry child porn) on E621, which I vocally protested at the time. This is the only thing I could point to as evidence for the claim that I commissioned cub porn of myself. I do not know how to convey the feeling of being flooded by accusations that require me to ponder what it could even be referring to, or to see my accuser insist that she’s receiving dozens of new horrible scoops on me without being able to see exactly what it is or what happened. I’m open to apologizing personally to anyone I ended up hurting in my adolescence who reaches out to me, I was a victim of grooming let off into a public space with a few thousand followers after all, but I’m not apologizing on behalf of people who might have heard something bad about me.

I am going to restate, my accuser has *of her own volition* unlisted the offending video & understands the misinformation she spread, there is nothing to gain from seeking her out and letting her know your opinion on the situation. I waited until this agreement was reached to make any statement at all for this exact reason. 

I am staying offline for about a day after posting this, I am under a lot of pressure, I am very tired.

[broadwaybalogna]

I was told I got the “nail on the head” with my refute to this take so I’ll share it on here too because I think people need to hear it.

The only way this person wouldn’t be in the wrong is if shipping Zutara was inherently racist, which it isn’t. Many people paint Zuko to be a “colonizer” since his nation had colonized parts of the earth kingdom (mind you, that’s the only place any form of fire nation colonization has taken place), but Zuko never colonized any place himself, he was too focused on capturing the avatar. So… not a colonizer. What people are doing is conflating Zuko with his nation even though in the years where it actually counted, he was exiled and had no voice in the nation.

This is essentially saying that anyone who was alive when America was a colony and got independence couldn’t date any English person simply because of the fact that they’re British. It doesn’t matter if said english person lived outside of England or lived in England during the war and maybe even one time agreed with them, it’d be morally wrong. But that’s up to the American to decide, not anyone else. If the English person joined America in the battle of Yorktown and single-handedly took down a solid quarter of the British troops, would that be enough for the American to date them? Trick question! It’s not up to you to decide. It’s up to whoever wants to date them.

Before I continue, I was told by woc specifically that this next point was accurate. I consulted them before posting on here.

I think this personally actually stems from a place of racism on the kat/angers side. They see Katara as this young, innocent woc who needs to be protected and can’t fend for herself. It’s a white savior kind of situation. Because she is a woc, she shouldn’t date Zuko but rather Aang since “he proved multiple times just how much he loved her”; “She’s too innocent for Zuko”; or they’ll steer in the completely opposite side of the racism spectrum and say that Katara “bullied” and “harassed” Zuko simply because she didn’t trust him after he betrayed her. They paint Katara to be this aggressive woc who can’t see reason and is rude to people to want to help her. Even if that’s not what they want to convey, it still comes from a place of deeply rooted internalized racism.

All of this to say it’s not racist to ship Zutara. It never was and it never will be. If you want to tag your shit takes with the wrong tags, fine, knock yourself out, but be aware that those actions will have consequences since your point is inherently wrong.

[deceasedream69]

A new moon knight

Summary: what happens when konshu gets tired of marcs unproductiveness and finds a new avatar, Jake doesn't like that one bit.

Warnings: violence, moon knight physically fighting with y/n, enemies to lovers

-

Marc was on the floor, the white suit turning black with how dirty those streets were. He stumbled even to just get on his knees.

- get out of my way, this wasn't even about you, but you just had to get in my way.

The man laughed after saying that, pointing a gun at my head. I knew what I was getting myself into, dating a hero, but I never thought I was any worth to be getting caught up in the fight. I can't say I was used to this, a gun pointing at my head, the villain having all the advantage and my boyfriend, my hero boyfriend kneeling on the floor right before us.

Breathing was hard, could I even make a plan at this point? I was in no way prepared or in advantage, even if I was I don't know if I could actually form the best plan in that moment.

- just... Just leave her out, she has nothing to do with this, this - he pointed at him - is between you, me - he pointed at himself - and that little golden thing you have in your pocket.

Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth, forehead shining with sweat, even him was vulnerable already, taking his mask off to negotiate with the bad guy.

- You're just pathetic.

That's all he said, with a face of disappoinment, before pushing me in front of him, his gun on his hand, bullets already flying, aiming to my head as Marc wrapped his suit around me.

- NOOOO

Gunshots were heard everywhere.

Marc ran, carrying y/n in his arms, cape still surrounding her as a blanket protecting a cold baby. He turned the corner and ran even a little more, until he tripped and they both fell.

Y/n's body rolling outside the cape, staying there lifeless on the dirty asphalt of that cold and wet night.

- no... - He crawled next to her, tears forming in his eyes and his hands shaking as he put them so slowly on the perfectly round hole in y/n's forehead.

Slowly putting his head down and closing his eyes, as he couldn't stand to look at the picture playing in front of him.

A sudden movement started, it wasn't controlled, more like an outburst of energy starting in the lifeless body laying there. Marc's head pop up, trying to see what was going on. He noticed the gunshot was gone and suddenly there was a big catch of breath that more than scaring him, made him turn into defense mode, lifting his hands from the body, getting ready for what was about to come, which he had no idea what it was.

Y/n's body was working but not because she was controlling it. Either way, stumbling, she stood up, putting a knee on the floor before rising entirely, lifting her gaze to where now was the infamous moon god.

The suit slowly revealed Marc's body as it was being transferred from there to it's new carrier. Marc just stood there, looking at his arms, his hands, his feet... All while he was losing his suit.

- we had a deal.

- I know the deal we had, what are you doing?

- if you're not useful to me. I told you what the consequences were.

Y/n was back in control of her body, realizing everything that was going on, she wasn't unfamiliarized with all the moon knight topic but she definitely wasn't prepared for that, or even aware of the deal they had.

- y/n y/l/n. Seeing that I saved your life, I hope you can understand that I can take it back at any moment, so as a sign of your gratitude, be my new avatar, carrying the fist of justice and dagger of revenge. In the name of the god of the moon, konshu.

Breathing hard to trying to focus on what was going on. I had no other choice but to accept. Did I even have a choice?

- How is it fair? after everything we gave you.

I turned to look at Marc, he sounded so upset, I just couldn't understand anything. But the second our eyes met, I could sense something dark was building up, so fast I didn't have time to react, just until I felt his hand clenching my throat.

- I was loyal to you, doing every fucking thing you asked me for! And this, this is a downgrade, you know how I worked - he let go of my throat - we'll see how this turns out.

He just walked away.

I caressed my throat, what the actual fuck was that? that wasn't Marc, that wasn't Steven. Was it another personality? Were they hiding that from me? Did he tell them not to mention him in front of me? He obviously disliked me, now even more.

-

Jake walked, with his hands in his pockets, processing everything just happened. He wouldn't admit it but over feeling like a dissapointment, he also felt unprotected, and without konshu's tasks, useless.

What else could he do? the driver job was to get to places where konshu needed him, but just being a driver, fucking pathetic.

If he wanted to beat someone up now was without purpose, what point was it to do it now.

He walked as he kicked things he found on the ground, breathing heavily and mumbling curse words in spanish.

He wasn't stupid, he was well trained with or without the suit, or konshu's powers for that matter. Taking faster steps, keeping his weight on the leg he knew he had better support on...

He turned around and with his arm beat me to the ground.

- I don't enjoy being followed. I have nothing to talk about with you.

- I came to talk with Marc.

- He's not here, he's hiding, embarrased, useless as always.

- Who are you? they never told me your name.

- They aren't bright enough to notice it's not only them - he started to walk away.

- So they don't even know about you? about what you did?

I asked as I followed him.

- Stop! following me...

- I have to talk with Marc.

- too bad

I got closer and that was a bad idea.

He got my arm, as I turned to try to get it free, with his other hand he took me by my neck, pushing me against a wall.

- Princesa, that's what you turned that suit into. I was a hero.

- nobody working for konshu is a hero.

He laughed and I hit his face with my head, he grabbed his face and I kicked his leg, making him fall to the ground.

- Take the suit off and make this even... nah, I still can beat you wearing that shit.

He took my arm, pushing my face onto the floor and pulling my arm behind my back.

I hit him on the jaw with my other elbow, turned and kick him on the chest.

- I need Marc - I sat over him punching him on the face - Give. me. Marc!

He pushed my knees and I fell on top of him, he took the advantage and flipped us over.

- Cariño, you ain't seeing Marc, Steven or me ever again.

- would you keep the promise on that last one?

I took a dagger out, he was teasing my patience. I was about to stab him in the shoulder when I remembered I would be hurting Marc's body too.

He saw my doubt and knocked me cold.

[brw]

Since I haven't seen anyone mention Storm yet outside of panels, I'm gonna talk about that moment with the doctor!

The moment I finished reading it, I knew there was going to be discourse about it, but I personally really enjoyed it. I've seen people claiming it's out of character, or "kicking mutants when they're down by portraying Krakoa as being negative", but one of the first things we learned about Krakoa is them leveraging their life-saving and life-extending drugs to only the nations who recognise their sovereignty. And Storm was part of that decision. The choice to make something like this be consequences of her and everyone else's actions from that time period is interesting. The choice to tell a story about the price of immortality, the consequences of opening up your nation state with "we are your new gods" is an interesting thing to explore. Much like the reveal that resurrection has had some impact on resurrected mutants bodies and some are beginning to decay as a result! Those are interesting stories to tell. I can't think of a single time in fiction where a group of people have achieved immortality without consequences, and yet people are acting like this is unprecedented? Or that Tom Brevoort, specifically, wants to "humble" Krakoa fans, whatever that means.

Anyway, while I don't agree with the doctor withholding care, it does feel like a very realistic thing to happen, because yeah, if everyone else chipped in but the people with at minimum three billionaires on the team didn't, I would also be incredibly angry. And the situation is cleared up by Ororo, who immediately recognises the wrong, and wants to make it right. This story is ultimately about Ororo, about the trials and tribulations she goes through before becoming the avatar of Eternity, of how she balances all the responsibilities she has while also dying of radiation poisoning, all while also just genuinely trying to be a good person doing what's right, regardless of the opinions or politics people around her.

That's an interesting story, and after 4 years of seeing Gerry Duggan stumble along blindly, I think we owe it to Murewa Ayodele more than 2 issues to tell his story, which actually is trying to say something.

[physalian]

Toy Story 2 | Still a perfect execution of a fantasy story

One of the things people uesd to complain about is that the cars in "Cars" did not need to be cars. As in, the fantastical element was not necessary to tell the story (which I wholeheartedly disagree with but that's not the point of this post). You could have told Finding Nemo with the fish as humans and have Nemo caught by... a traveling circus, or something, but to many, Cars was the damning example.

While Toy Story was the antithesis of Cars in every way.

Have not and will not see the fourth one but the first two films are perfect fantasy, and you don't immediately think of them as "fantasy".

I just rewatched TS 2 so it's fresh in my mind, and this story could not exist if these characters were not toys. Everything from the little details like the Etch-a-Sketch speed-drawing the map from the commercial to the "high stakes" rescue and escape that's only "high stakes" beacuse they're toys and not people and that one intersection is a death trap.

But the big thing is the main plot of the story: Woody is in the role of a has-been who wants to reclaim his glory days (like Mr. Incredible) but unlike a human, Woody himself was not part of those glory days, he's just one of many toys sold with the Woody's Roundup TV show, theoretically endlessly replacable, as all toys are. Unless you gave your hero amnesia, in no other storyline would this work with a human character, because Woody is both an outsider and the hero making his homecoming.

At the center of this trilogy is what it means to be a toy: A child's plaything. How each character relates to that fact is central to their arcs. The first movie tackled the divide between Woody's "I exist to be Andy's favorite toy" and Buzz's "I ain't no toy, I'm a Real Boy".

The second movie takes it one step further: Is a "toy" something you play with and inevitably ruin through playtime and the messy love of a child, or is a "toy" something you keep perfectly preserved in its packaging? And the consequences of being a toy when your human outgrows you, in Jessie's story, and is a valid point by Stinky Pete.

TS 3 takes the "what happens when the kid grows up" to its natural conclusion, with Andy going off to college. While I think it got a little carried away in spectacle and the incinerator scene, the endless replacability of a toy is Lotso's whole schtick.

The nature of what a toy is is the whole point—a piece of wood or metal or plastic that is effectively immortal, but an immortal being forever in a place of willful servitude to children.

—

It seems rather obvious to give fantastical characters a fantastical story, but a lot of uninspired or forgettable fantasy takes a human plotline and just reskins it with fairies or animals and never takes full advantage of what the characters are.

When your fantastical elements and setting are just window dressing, like Avatar '09, a fancy backdrop for a bland story, why bother writing a fantasy story? Why waste all that worldbuilding and all that creativity? (I actually know the answer, Cameron got cold feet when his creative teams went all out to create something indeed alien, and kept nudging it back to something more friendly and recognizable until we got what we got).

Avatar '09 sure made a lot of money... and zero impact on our cultural memory. It's no one's favorite movie, no one's favorite retelling of Dances with Wolves. It's just pretty to look at.

You can write a retelling, a "modern take", a book of tropes and clichés, sure, but I'd encourage you to at least make one arc of your fantasy or sci-fi story only possible in your world, with your lore, with your characters. Otherwise, what's the point?

[paragonrobits]

a while back I made a joke about Sokka acting like rationalism is a valid philosophy in the setting he is from and trying to deny the existence of spirits as an extreme way of coping with their alien ways (and possibly alienation from his people's ways, depending on how much you consider the Southern Water Tribe to have a close cultural connection to vibing with spirits in general that has been lost due to the severe loss of information from so many of their people dying over the Hundred Year War) and the punchline was Koh the Face Stealer apparently now just following him around out of bored curiousity and now I actually want to make that a whole thing

the specific vibe here is that Koh is not an active danger to Sokka in this context. This works on the assumption that Koh does the face stealing thing in specific circumstances, but he won't do it unless you specifically go against the rules governing that: you gotta do it by showing emotion around him (which is bad for Sokka) and during specific situations and contexts which are apparent and he or another knowledgable being is obliged to inform people of this and the consequences (which is good for Sokka).

This further would emphasize the idea that spirits act according to their natures and functions; Koh stealing someone's face is not a moral decision, no more than a cuckoo bird smashing the eggs in another birds nest and laying its own in there is a moral decision. While its clear spirits are sapient, they're also bound by their natures to think and act in certain ways, and I take the idea that Koh is related to the concept of empathy; when he steals faces, he sees things through their perspectives in an extremely literal way.

This, in turn, leads to him being fascinated by specific people. In this case, he is following Sokka around because he intrigues Koh. He is an apparent contradiction in many ways; a man professing to a purely rationalist view of the world despite the power of bending ignoring what he knows of the laws of the natural world, having percieved the existence of the spirits as a form of reality that supercedes those same laws of nature. A brother-in-law to the Avatar (or just real close to him, depending on whether or not marriage is actually a thing Katara and Aang care for), but indifferent to the fact that Aang's existence is indispitable fact that the spirits exist.

A man shaped by fear of those outside his home, and yet a self-made polymath of sorts willing to learn from all nations. A warrior of the Southern Water Tribe, proud of what few traditions remain, and also one studying from his experiences all across the world, making something quite unrelated to those traditions but still defined by them. A man who can conceive of impossible, revolutionary technologies from first principles; completely untutored in the scientific principles behind them due to his people's decline, but able to still figure out the broad strokes from imagination alone, leading a way for geniuses to figure out how to make the idea work.

A benign paradox. A man shaped by fear and knowing every unfamiliar shape on the water could be another night of mourning, but still journeying across the world, befriending others and making connections across the world anyway, in the Earth Kingdom and Kyoshi Island and in the very nature that would have destroyed his own home, and through Aang, extending a hand to the memory of the Air Nomads.

And so Koh finds him fascinating. He wants to understand him, and not purely through the lens of his mind. Koh wants to speak to him, hear him speak, and offer his own statements on his perspective.

And also from Sokka's perspective, a notoriously dangerous spirit so powerful even Avatar Kuruk couldn't kill him is now following him around, and might just steal his face on a whim if he's not careful.

Because, the truth is, with spirits... you never know. They're not human. They might be friendly, or hateful, or kind and bitter and they run on seemingly incomprehensible rules that make absolutely no sense to him and he has no idea what he's supposed to do with this information, and now a giant centipede monster is following him around wherever he goes.

In the shadows; watching, listening.

Judging.

[a-dragons-journal]

Could you talk more about the moral code of your religion? Is there a set list of tenets?

>< I actually took a stab at writing down a firm set of Mithraic values a while back, so here’s those:

Honesty: Your word is your bond. Never break a solemn vow. Keep your tongue honest when dealing with those who have been fair to you and yours. Never speak a lie to a fellow follower of Mithras.

Justice: In all things act with fairness, and mete out reward and punishment in accordance with the actions that earn them. Actions lead to consequences, both positive and negative. It is just to reward the faithful, the honorable, and the good. It is just to punish the liar, the traitor, and the thief. Act with fairness and obey the laws laid down by teaching, by temple, and by priest.

Guardianship: Protect those within your care as the shepherd guards the sheep. Protect those you have the ability to protect; accept the protection of those stronger than you. Guide those you have the ability to guide; heed the guidance of those wiser than you.

I don’t know if anyone’s ever really written these down quite this firmly, but it makes for a useful summary, so I’m doing it. I will also say that these are ideals to live up to; no one is perfect, and the tenet of justice is especially, uh, challenging to uphold when you’re A Guy and not The Justice System. But you can do your best to act fairly, reward good behavior when you see it, and maybe take opportunities to bring justice down on wrongdoers if you spot a chance to, even if that justice is sometimes petty. It’s more about not letting shit slide than anything. (It’s also a significantly bigger deal when you’re living in a society of vampires, who tend to skew more amoral and immoral than the general populace.)

There’s also a less explicit value of community - helping and supporting each other and forming community bonds. It’s not explicitly something demanded by the teachings, but it’s a pretty natural extrapolation from them, and it’s also kept our clan alive and prosperous. Personally, I extend that to the vampiric community at large, partially because leading by example is my preferred method of showing the other clans the good of Mithraism and partially because I simply think it’s right to try to reach out to others, but that’s not universal; a lot of Mithraics feel no particular obligation to vampires outside the clan, given that they’re doctrinally considered traitors to Mithras.

Also, I love your avatar. xD

—Roshan (fae/faer)

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore #11a

The group walks timorously through the tunnels with Not-Martin. Sasha has the map this time. Jon and Tim bring up the rear with Tim holding the flashlight. Martin, in the middle, cautiously occupies the space between them and Not-Martin. He has the second flashlight.

Not-Martin recounts the day he and Not-Jon first realized they had a second chance and a duty to prevent the apocalypse. They reasoned that if they couldn’t stop what had happened to their world from in the thick of it, they would have a better shot coming at it from the outside. They had tried to be subtle at first, so as not to disrupt the lives of those involved. Despite their best efforts, it ended just as badly as before. So, they tried again and have been trying ever since. They became more and more adamant until they were inserting themselves right in the middle of things–with little more success. It took them a long time to figure out how the rules they knew applied to their situation. They hadn’t realized there was a new consequence for overtaking avatars.

NM: I couldn’t feel it until his hold over it started to slip. By then, it was too late.

Silence fills the corridor as the team studies Not-Martin. They let his story settle into the air, waiting to see what he’ll say if he thinks it wasn’t enough to convince them. He says nothing and keeps walking, not even looking at them.

Jon: But the Fears aren’t controlling him. That’s not how it works. He’s doing this himself.

NM: It’s the pain. Without an entire world of people to feed on, the Fears are starving to death. They pass the feeling on to us to motivate us. I don’t think they’re picky about which of us gets to be their avatar at this point, but Jon’s been keeping their attention on him this whole time.

Sasha: Why?

NM: To spare me and hold himself accountable for what happened at the end.

Sasha: No, I mean… I can understand pain making a person a little irrational. But this is so premeditated and extreme.

NM: That’s the problem. He thinks that he’s mastered it. So he takes warning signs as encouragement. To feel assured that he’s still himself.

Martin recalls the time he spent with his mother through her chronic illness. She had often worded it exactly that way when he couldn’t get her to rest. Not-Martin slips a knowing glance at him.

Tim: And manipulating and tormenting people is just part of retaining his fundamental character, apparently.

The words are already out by the time Tim remembers Jon is walking right beside him in the dark.

Tim: I just–I meant that he didn’t have to do it this way.

Not-Martin doesn’t reply.

Martin’s double further exposits that Not-Jon can’t be allowed to pursue his goal any further than he already has. Even if he does manage to prevent the apocalypse, the vacuum created by the consumed avatars would inevitably be too much. He would fully succumb to the need to satisfy his hunger.

Tim: And he’ll, what, become as big a fear monster as Jonah?

NM: Oh, he’s already a lot bigger than Jonah. I’m terrified to think what that much power would look like manifested. That is, if he doesn’t die first and leave it all with me.

Tim: Joy.

Sasha: So, what’s your solution?

NM: Convince him to share the burden with me and entomb the both of us in the nearest, deepest hole in the ground before anything else can happen.

Tim: So, your original plan. Which you’ve tried before?

NM: Many times.

Tim: And why will it work now?

NM: Because it’s the only option. It’s just a matter of trial and error.

Tim: Uh-huh. Then again, if you’re a Fear ghost like him, then we shouldn’t be listening to what either of you say, should we?

NM: *shrugs* I’d agree if I didn’t know that my Jon has it a hundred times worse than I do. Your odds with me are much better.

Tim: Which could be a lie.

NM: If it were, you’d have no reason to believe any of what I’ve said so far.

He answers the interrogation readily and casually, though not as if he’d rehearsed it.

Jon shakes off his precaution to ask a burning question.

Jon: Am I really what makes things fall apart every time?

NM: I’m sure that my Jon would like you to think so. It’s much more complicated than that. He’s just punishing you for things you haven’t done yet.

A little irritation creeps into his voice. It’s also the first plainly obfuscated thing he’s said so far, Jon notices.

Jon: It never made a difference to remove me from the equation?

NM: Again, it’s complicated. We ended up agreeing not to.

The group continues to ask questions about the details and history of the situation, especially things that Not-Jon prescribed to them as truth and things that he refused to tell them. Not-Martin answers all of it politely and patiently enough, giving no sign of duress or deception. There are no earth-shattering revelations. It only cements the places where Not-Jon and Not-Martin’s perspectives overlap. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, it’s comforting to get clear answers without the immediate pressure to cooperate for once. In fact, it gets Sasha’s attention.

Sasha: Are we… expected to help in your plan?

NM: No. It doesn’t really matter what any of you do from this point forward.

They ask him to elaborate. He says that their part in Not-Jon’s plan is over. In scenarios where they stay in the tunnels or the archives, they’re penned so that they can’t interfere. When they leave, they’re unable to change the outcome at all and are left to deal with Jonah’s machinations once he escapes. There’s nothing they can do.

Tim: Wait, yes we can. Don’t we still have the lighter?

Everyone turns to Jon. As he wraps his fingers loosely around the device still in his pocket, he feels the tiny piece of plastic he took from Jonah’s office. He nods.

Tim: If the fuse is long enough, we could light the dynamite on our way out and do away with the lot of them while they’re chasing each other around down there.

Not-Martin scratches his chin thoughtfully.

NM: I can’t say it’s been done before. But I won’t object as long as I’m down there with them.

Sasha: Have we tried it before?

NM: Yes.

The group’s optimism deflates.

NM: Sorry. I’m not sure what gets in the way. I don’t usually stop to talk to you guys.

Martin: Have you come close before?

NM: Very.

Martin: How? It sounds like he’d be untouchable at this point.

NM: Because he can’t scare me. None of this does anymore.

Martin studies his counterpart. It’s not just talk. He’s steady. Dispassionate, but not overly calm. The determination with which he described his task betrayed a steep understanding of the consequences for failure. Yet, he approaches the ordeal ahead as if going to do laundry. It’s kind of terrifying. Martin feels like he’s watching an alien creature walk around with his face painted on it. His memories inside it. Although, wouldn’t it make sense to need an alien to combat an alien threat? He wonders if this is how Jon felt meeting his other self.

He checks on Jon, who has his eyes turned toward the tunnels as they pass. Martin just then notices how deep and rhythmic the murmuring noise has become. Almost like chugging movement.

~

The group arrives at the dynamite area. There are still boxes strewn about with leftover materials in them–including plenty of fuse that could be tied on. The tunnel leading out is situated opposite some others that lead down to the Panopticon. The four of them nonverbally determine that it’s time to decide whether to stay or go. Meanwhile, Not-Martin examines the prison remains, looking for anomalies.

The vote is not as quick as before.

Martin, unexpectedly, is the one to pipe up first. He wants to stay and try to stop Not-Jon. He feels that the stakes are too steep not to try. Tim and Sasha argue against it, and he defends his choice. Not-Jon could easily stop the dynamite from working just as he stopped them from escaping. Whether Jonah escapes or doesn’t, they’re likely doomed if they just leave. They’re stuck no matter what. He doesn’t want to feel like he didn’t try to push back when he could have, especially after everything Not-Jon has put them through already. At the very least, it would give him another thing to have to manage.

Martin’s voice shakes even as he says it out loud, but he manages to hold himself in place.

Tim is quick to remind him that they don’t have a hearty reason to trust Not-Martin. Martin proclaims that he might then be trying to get rid of them. The one thing they can say for certain is that Jonah and Not-Jon are too dangerous to be left to their own devices.

His anxiety prompts him to keep talking, but he makes himself leave it there.

Jon quickly says that he’s staying too.

The others fall into silence. Sasha visibly wavers in two minds before letting out her breath.

Tim: Sasha, no.

Sasha: Yeah, I’m sorry. I think I’m with Martin. But just barely.

She says she’s getting tired of trying to take the safe route on purpose, only for them to wind up getting separated and nearly killed anyway. If there is no good sane way out, as Martin had said, their only way is through.

To be fair, Tim does look at them as if they’ve all gone insane.

Tim: I’m not saying we do nothing. Even he knows it--*gestures at Not-Martin* --we’re not gonna be able to do anything about this if we’re in the middle of it. If the dynamite doesn’t work, we’ll find another way.

NM: No, you won’t.

Tim: You be quiet.

Try as he might, Tim can’t convince them to change their minds. He stands there, unable to follow but unwilling to leave them behind to die.

The vague rumbling ramps up and draws close. The walls around them begin to shift, but not like in an earthquake. Stone and cement slide frictionlessly over one another with heavy clicking sounds. The floor is perfectly stable aside from some vibrations. The walls of the exit tunnel and the one they came from advance inward, herding the occupants further into the junction of passages. Not-Martin glares at someone who’s not in the room.

NM: Oh, goddamn it, Jon.

Jon leaps through a nearby passage before it closes.

Goddamn it, Jon, Martin thinks.

The others move to catch him, but there isn’t enough clearance by the time he gets there. The clamorous stone is so loud, they can’t hear each other. But they can make out Jon mouthing “I’m sorry” in the feeble light of the spider web lighter just before the gap closes.

------------

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(I forgot what I was doing and gave Sasha the second flashlight in the third page. Pretend Martin has it.)

Index

[sea-salt-child]

In the Room (Pokepasta)

Everything that happens to me is a metaphor.

…

I live in a house with many rooms. These rooms comfortably hold me and the others, although I’ve never met any of them. I am, in a way, the final resting place for many games.

I’m talking about Pokémon this time around.

I really like those games- they fill me with a sense of wonder, companionship, freedom… truly, they are the best and I feel a little sad to see them change.

They take easily and grow around, able to handle heavy gashes without completely tearing at the seams.

They call that property being “highly compatible”.

On the first day, I woke up with a strong impression about the room and its contents. That is how I knew something had to have changed. Do you ever get that sensation?

You see, the game is a consequence rather than a cause and I eventually spotted it on my laptop’s contents.

It would be silly to give me real hardware, you know? So I work with emulators. This is just as well, for me, because I’m more used to this anyhow and changing would be a pain.

I opened the game up.

Music started, but stopped jarringly once the Gamefreak logo was supposed to show up. Rather, a text box opened:

“What? Where did he go? I swear I saw him enter this room!”

I need you to trust me. I need you to believe that I’ve committed every detail to memory, stuffing it down my throat, into my brain. If that trust is broken, then nothing else has any significance from here on out.

“...Oh. Again?”

The press of a button and it was all wiped to black, then blue as the regular menu opened up.

There was already a game there. Player “Retry”. One of the others must have gotten this before me, then, and made a mess. I’m used to that kind of situation and, out of respect for their privacy, I started a new game.

The game skipped directly to the opening sequence, in the truck- but the boxes in stacks extended beyond the usual confines in every direction, giving the impression of a huge room rather than a jostling vehicle.

Motion stopped and it all went silent as my character walked to where the exit should be and disappeared. The room resumed moving and I was left looking at nothing.

It’s not a big deal, really- the game just needs to think a little and recover from the last bout of changes. I don’t mind it- if anything, these imperfections left behind let me connect with the others in a way I usually can’t.

Words slowly appeared, black and one after another, making it hard for me to understand the phrase. They went by and I wrote each one to a text document:

“I can’t see the sky from here”

No, I can’t. Even if I look outside the window, I can only see the laundry room. Sometimes, I see people wash things, do their jobs, but they don’t look my way. 

I pressed buttons, trying to get something to happen, only for the character to appear at the top of the screen, slowly falling back into place and like so, I finally was given control to roam around the box-filled room, able to walk over anything in my way.

These experiences are the core of the game, exposed and reflecting. I make this, change everything to the core and then they take the game back to spread among the normal people of the normal world.

I checked the menu, eventually, to see my character. My name was a single animating water tile.

She was splattered with petals of unknown flowers. 

Spreading everywhere, obscuring stats, scattering, only letting me see part of her face with vibrantly yellow eyes. 

Already, the game was giving under my touch. 

Next, my pokémon-

Three eggs and nothing more, all said to be hatching soon.

When I closed the menu, leaves now fell, carried by breeze around my rose wracked avatar. My mirror, my mouthpiece…

They are interested in “out there” reflections much more than they care about what they mean. I’m a last ditch attempt to get something usable once the others have left their marks. 

I can’t run blood through, can’t leave eerie warnings, can’t weave fog and inject hatred. I can’t and I can’t and I can’t, and by repeating that I became the end of the road, unable to even express myself properly. 

My world is too small. It is smaller than the world in the box.

All of a sudden, the clock screen showed up, asking me to set the time. Thin golden cracks ran across the clock in harsh patterns. I informed it that it was one hour earlier than reality.

It must not have liked that- it made choked little sounds and gurgles for a few moments before the screen closed on its own and left me in the middle of Littleroot.

No one would let me in- every door I tried prompted the same message:

“This is not for you”

Followed by a short jingle I could not recognize from anywhere in the game.

Now I’m in the dark again, fluttering. It’s going down because it cannot go up and I’m caught in the flow. 

I opened my pokémon menu again.

Torchic simply looked from side to side, simply named “Arrival”. It was named that because it was named that, and so, it had to imply it.

The two eggs below changed- spots on the shell now flower shaped and small. I wondered if I would get all starters, then, and set out to play properly.

These are best envisioned as interludes rather than anything else. Between waves of change, there are stillnesses. 

This house contains a number of rooms dedicated to each of us. It is a pipeline, although there are exceptions. Games and objects are passed down long enough to become of interest and are then taken for, presumably, distribution. 

I’m a haunting in a box.

Although I could progress, NPCs were missing in several locations- ones that would normally impede my progress. Others would turn away from me whenever I approached and when forcefully talked to, would say strange things:

“Oh you poor thing…”

“I don’t believe it, end of story.”

“Found by candlelight.”

“She did that?”

“Why do we need to be involved?”

“It reverses”

Bits and pieces of abstract nonsense, repeated lines from dreams, former game journeys, dejà vu.

And then there was Wally.

I found him on a thin route placed strangely, not a normal part of the game. A long road going up, with strange streetlights- things not matching the game’s artstyle, but rather, scribbled in, animation between two shaky frames.

He met me midway through.

“This is… wrong. I don’t get it. Why did it end up like this?”

And a name input screen showed up. I thought- I thought. Poor Wally. He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t understand my situation. All I could respond with is:

“IS OK”

“Everyone else is freaking out about it. You don’t have to go all the way through on your own”

But I have to.

Because I wound up here.

A battle began, just like that. My Torchic against his Ralts. An easy victory for me- though he did surprise me by bringing out something I was unfamiliar with after his pokémon went down: A round thing with question marks in it, appropriately named “??????????”. It proceeded to just struggle itself to death.

When the game put me back into the overworld, I was in a town with an unknown name. Houses of every style- some on trees, some on lakes. Another sprawling location going forever as far as the eye can see.

 I call this a “Reticence”.

A moment the game needs in order to think, to realign its pieces in the presence of my story, of my outpouring of feelings and memories. 

I walked and I walked, occasionally running into pokemon out in the streets. This took me a while, and I split up the time between the game and sleeping. A familiar routine.

Arrival managed to grow up nicely into a Combusken. I was happy and I said so aloud, to which the game responded with nothing but advances on its mangled RNG. 

I checked on the eggs too, and they now bore identical messages:

“Whatever was inside, it has already died.”

A graveyard in my brain. When these things die, there is nowhere to bury them except for in memories. In that sense, these are living beings unlike me. I’ll be buried, but never loved in my descent. Their data allocation will be freed, their binaries returning to the primordial soup of ones and zeroes that breathe life into their world and likewise, my flesh will spread like grand wings and finally get me out of here.

I’ll return as a passing breeze back home and they will, in turn, become the data of pokémon to come.

A box opened up when I exited:

“ARRIVAL doesn’t understand!”

But he doesn’t need to. 

We continued our walk in the city and I wondered if the houses were organized like the boxes in the truck. An empty world that I explored until…

The clock screen again. 

Around 2:30 AM.

It was the crashing point in the situation, the last straw. The screen turned darker and darker and I could hear Arrival’s cry. 

I don’t like it. Even if it is just to a game, I don’t like to admit it. I don’t want it seen and rehashed over and over and over. My safest fantasies are upside down and unpleasant. I followed the creed that I was happy until I missed the train.

The day it happens is the day I’m forgiven but it cannot happen in the safety of this room. I can only be just as evil. 

Are the others the same? I don’t know. By the time the games get to me, there is such a big lump of things that it all just unravels back to nothing.

She was screaming her heart out because I couldn’t be trusted. Because I was failing my sole objective as a person. It stung and I curled up like a bug, with the heat of the old laptop against my belly. 

And she made the decision.

An alarm played all of a sudden and I blinked, having been dragged back to reality.

A bedroom- the protagonist’s bedroom, as if the game had just started.

I checked the clock again and it was as it should be- and then, my pokémon.

Two Bad EGGs. New messages:

“Looks like it wants to live anyway.”

A mercy. 

I went downstairs, to an empty room and another pop up- this time strange, placed on the very center of the screen rather than on the bottom:

“...?! ARRIVAL isn’t here! Let’s find him before ? blooms!”

You know, flowers are pretty common when I am given a game. They grow between the cracks and I can’t help it. I reckon is because of the garden. I took care of it myself and it got me out of the way of others. I watched them grow into their colors.

I don’t know if it still exists today. Maybe it has been overtaken by wilder plants… or maybe she uprooted it all, finishing the removal of myself from her life.

I treated it as a game of hide and seek rather than strictly an emergency.

Outside, the people had all turned to strange groupings of black lines, changing shape with their movements. I talked to them, and they would all comment on “these strange eggs”.

 Its okay. They are odd. Let them try their best, clawing for the surface. Give them a chance, don’t give up on them yet.

And so I went, into houses, suspicious corners, up routes, into grass, tracking down my poor friend.

That is when I met Wally for the second time.

He stood there, in front of the Normal-type gym. The lights dimmed as I approached, and the scribbled streetlights returned to my sight.

“Oh, it’s you. I found your ARRIVAL running here. Are you two okay?”

A yes or no prompt, to which I responded affirmatively.

“...”

“It’s really awful. Everyone was scared, you know? Every time someone new arrives, we learn more horrible things we can do nothing about.”

A new choice menu- but this time, all responses were flower tiles of every shape and size. Beautiful things opening up holes in the white, for me to choose.

“...Huh? Hey, those EGGs…?”

He stepped back and I pressed start. 

More flowers for text.

And then, an egg hatching screen.

Both eggs, sprites overlapping but desynced. Shaking, moving. The camera zoomed in, little sparkles like snow on top, falling around as the shell gave way to petals and leaves and thorns and all these undiluted emotions rushing into the mix, afraid to disappear.

The blooming remained on screen as everything returned. 

Snow. Snow on the ground, on the ceilings, coming down in heavy layers as if trying to suffocate my darlings.

Trying to say no, no, it didn’t happen how you think it happened.

Trying to remind me I’m a liar.

Swelling up to the point where rather than tears I have excuses lined up.

Hey, I can’t feel pain. You know that? So what does it mean if I scream my heart out?

“Hey! What’s going on?”

He should have just left, but he didn’t. The keyboard was cold under my fingers. An alarm started to play, the same alarm I had up every day. 

The seams made out of code started to burst. 

They went down to the bottom and then…

The game reset on its own.

My meal arrived just then.

I can’t go back. I messed up one too many times. Sorry, I didn’t say anything before but it happens that I’m evil. This is nothing but a safe place to store evil people. Even if I could leave, I would have no place to return to. No one to be happy to see me. These are little sounds I make with my mouth and that’s all. My brain isn’t right. I wake up and pace, going in circles and coiling back to that day.

I went back to the game that night.

Rather than where I left off, I was in the middle of an unknown route. Snow still fell, but gently. The manifestation of game incompatible things, a sign of the later stages of infection.

My character was a mess of pixels in black and white, dragging flowers behind, as if cut from their usual animations in the world.

Opening the pokémon menu, the pokémon displayed as small things with shapes I did not recognize, but who were named the same thing: “Festival”.

Their summary revealed their shapes. A pair of Mew in a strange pose, almost translucent, looking oh so fragile. In that way, they were things. Things dragged by the current, making me colder by the second.

Music, somber and quiet, like a funeral march.

And then, Arrival. Standing at the edge of the screen and running off when I began to chase.

The road gave way to tall grass, cut like a maze where he was hard to spot. I pursued, thinking to myself- it’s too cold! He’ll freeze!

Someone, please care about that.

No one is coming here to claim us back.

Someone, just follow. Just care, a little bit! Corners of the screen ripping, glitchy textures showing up, all towards my house. My real house in all its drab colors, with all the gardens, with homework and chores and sunrises and frozen food and mom.

The loud sound of Arrival’s cry snapped me out of it and I noticed him taking a fork in the road. I stopped there and its sprite span close to the warp, crying out for me.

I know it is all my heart hurting and beating in place, seeping into the fissures. I know, but it was still hard to agree to take that turn.

A beach. Sounds of waves, a gentle sky, sand mixing with unnatural snow. 

Arrival scrambled over to Wally.

“Your time here… it is limited, isn’t it?”

I selected YES.

“I figured. That’s how it was with RETRY too.”

A pair of cries- Combusken and Kirlia.

“It would have been fun to just play with you… I’m sorry. I don’t think you are a bad person at all!”

But it’s too late.

It’s like I don’t even exist. No one is looking back on me.

I’m a fetal thing. 

“Say… in this time we have left… Instead of wandering around on your own… Why don’t you store your story with me? Something to let the future owners of this file know about you. So that you aren’t invisible anymore. So that someone knows.”

It took me a while to decide, but I did press yes.

So now, after writing this on paper, I’ll painstakingly write it in countless screens provided by the game. Wally interjects at times, and at one point, promises that he’ll be giving future players a way to read all this, that I don’t have to worry about that at all anymore. Just trust him. Trust everyone in this game because they do care about you.

Sometimes I stop, listening for steps outside. They’ll take this in my next meal.

I’ll miss this project.

I’ll miss Wally, whatever he was.

And I’m hoping that whoever you are, you will understand the rest of this ROM as a message in a bottle, rather than a curse.

[teiasviago]

On the Never Again thing-- I never saw her one night stand w/ Ed as an "own" on misogyny; just a consequence for losing her head temporarily, like Mulder's in 3. Both had those experiences when shaken about their places in each other's lives. What I find juicier is WHY Scully chose to have a one night stand with Ed (which I covered in two essays, lol, so I've beaten that topic into the ground.) I believe it was a combo: trying to pinpoint what was scaring her, and being led along with the "freedom" that Ed offered her-- like Pheobe had done w/ Mulder in Fire, Diana in One Son, (Skinner w/ the prostitute in Avatar, lol), etc. It's that tempting, bewitching dynamic that people have on each other that leads them out of their depth.

I do believe Scully regrets Ed: not because she's a virginal Catholic girl (who dropped out of church, tried IVF, and did other non-practicing things); but because he was ill-advised. And there is a "restraint" element in Scully that underscores her character, like Mulder has an underscoring of devotion-- she's willing to wait for Mulder, not because she HAS TO or is ASHAMED; but because he's worth it. (And he, likewise, he will go to any length to make her happy-- give up his Paper Clip lead, Antarctica, IVF, Requiem "it has to end", etc.) So it's easy to imagine-- and canonical-- that Scully would rather sit in her hot and bothered than strike out to a rando one night stand. Of course, the reasons behind it were juicier than first met the eye.

So, I understand the crowd that wants to deny the one-night stand: it's the "why Ed Jerse??? Doesn't she see the red flags???" repulsion. And, of course, they want her and Mulder to only be for each other (and will act w/ the same repulsion over Diana's kiss or Pheobe's kiss, or the 3 episode, etc.) I, again, find it more fascinating to delve into the "why." :DDDD

It’s upsetting to see people outright deny it. I don’t care if they dislike it, but denying it is mosogynistic. You might as well claim that “Never Again” didn’t happen at all. I have my own problems with the episode (as I’ve said a lot, haha) but denying that Scully had a one night stand with Ed is just immature.

I think it’s important because Scully’s in a bad place and in being there, according to her, falls into her usual escapism by seeking out a man who she knows isn’t good for her. I agree with everything you’re saying but it’s a moot point regarding people who deny the one night stand. You can’t say it didn’t happen and also recognize the depth the episode brought to Scully—we got to learn more about her outside of her work with Mulder.

Like in the end disliking it isn’t the same as denying it, you know? I totally understand not getting why Scully would sleep with Ed in spite of his red flags but denying that it happened is way different than that.

Why Scully did it is definitely super juicy and that’s part of why I love that it happened so much. It just adds such depth to her character and knocks her off the pedestal she was put on by fans (and by Mulder, who can be interpreted as the audience stand-in). Like, Mulder usually gets to do all the reckless things and almost never Scully but finally it’s her turn.

[roseate-felidae]

Well that's a let down.

Spoilers if you haven't read the Tremere trilogy.

There was so many plot points going on in the story and it didn't even answer most of them in the end.

● Antigone is the only one that gets resolved. She us a tremere who can't do magic other than avoiding death like some sort of suicidal houdini. She eventually gets told by Anubis that she will have to face the scales to get into the afterlife or get devoured. Filled with regret, the scales tip to destruction. She convinces the Gid to allow her to be judged by the tremere, who convict her and she ends up before Anubis again. But she is allowed into the afterlife.

It's a happier ending for her. But if this was the only plot point, it would have been fine.

Sadly their was many other "major" plot points that just never get solved, here's some, I guarantee I've missed some.-

● Prince Calebros was blown up, even though it was his right hand man, Emmett who was targeted. He almost dies and is barely alive. He is healed by Sturbridge, and the story focuses on his "almost" killer being found.

Yet. We do not even see or hear much about him or Emmett in the third book. We don't see him revived, although we know he does. We don't even see the nosferatu get their revenge.

It is revealed that it was the Tremere fatherhouse behind the scenes that did it. But it never hints at why. We are told Calebros is corrupt. Yet we are never given any example, if anything, he seems like a regular camarilla Prince, and his clan novel actually paints him better than most elders. He's not perfect, he still a vampire but still better than some.

● One of the main characters, Felton, was set up. He was meant to kill Emmett, but someone else blew up the empire state building to kill the Prince inside instead.

Antigone (main protag) does find out the real bad guy and save Felton from the big bad at the end. But the nosferatu already mentioned they will get their revenge. The nosferatu are established to remember their injustices and eventually attain it. They also team up globally to accomplish these things. So we know Felton moving city means jack shit and the nosferatu will get him some night anyway. Also, he did still try and kill Emmett, so he kinda deserves it, IMO, even if he didn't manage it.

●The children of the well are brought into it again. Basically, the nightmares of all those who died because of the tremere and their avatar's (if they were mages before, think like a mage soul).

It is established in Tremere clan novel that Aisling Sturbridge does not have a child and her memories of one are actually of herself, her dead avatar. This is forgotten in this book for some reason???? How can she forget that and still mention who she thinks is her child?

Also, she "swallows" them, basically allowing the tremere to reach more dark magic without the consequences. This is never undone nor resolved by her going to the fatherhouse in Vienna. Nor are the children of the well mentioned again, despite Aisling being a signature character. It's mentioned she's haunted by these "souls" which are not souls and is shown coughing up and "bleeding" murky well water. It's not like she can get over it like a cold.

@robotslenderman is it brought up again outside of Clan novel saga or Tremere Trilogy?

● the whole chaos with the chantry of five boroughs to begin with.

Eva, a powerful tremere disguised as a novice, basically comes to the chantry. She kills an ambassador sent to investigate some deaths at the chantry and also makes Sturbridge "devour the children of the well." She dies, and now Sturbridge has to face judgement by the fatherhouse for many dead tremere students, dead ambassador, and other chaos at her chantry.

She goes to the fatherhouse, and we await her cunning plan to reveal it was all engineered by the fatherhouse to get rid of the children of the well. But we actually don't get to see what happens to her, past getting attacked there. Not even a battle but bitten by a snake made of blood and then healed. Nothing else.

Yet we know she's regent again in the more newer content via Coteries of New york. So is she just forgiven? What sentence did she even get? The whole plot point was how the fatherhouse would probably kill her.

[anthonybialy]

No Secret About Poor Service

Kimberly Cheatle’s résumé has been assassinated.  She leaves on a gentle slope.  The Secret Service director directed neither.  Announcing her resignation after whoever tweets for Joe Biden finally revealed the alleged boss is bailing at term’s end shows dedication to both a stubborn defiance of competence and unwillingness to respect responsibility.  Ungrateful taxpayers don’t even credit her for the dumbest of luck.

The cunning strategy of keeping Donald Trump safe by having him turn his head at precisely the right moment shows how to do an assignment well.  We didn’t need the scariest close call there could be, but it’s there as a reflection of the atmosphere of utter incompetence created by a president who was a putzing doofus even before he had to learn his name every morning.

It’s always a bad sign when we learn the name of an agency’s head.  Democrats scold us for not praising the selflessly awesome servants who enable joy and productivity.  The only thing lacking is a good reason.  Democrats who define ruling as broadly as possible screw up every legitimate role along with those they seize.  Feeble bullies want to run your lives even though they can’t preserve them.  Pete Buttigieg adores Cheatle for making him look less inept by comparison.

You’re in luck if you desire examples of why public idlers can’t protect anyone from anything.  Those looking for capability will feel frustrated.  Firing should’ve come an instant after the bullet flew past.  But this isn’t Costco.  The lack of accountability following the definition of failure illustrates why everyone either admits to hating government or pretends it’s looking out for all of us while fuming at the opposite occurring.

The one agency that everyone admired has sunk to being as oafish as the rest, so at least we enjoy consistency.  Sniper interdiction sure seems like it falls under constitutional jurisdiction.  Oh so fearless architects of society can’t even shield the executive branch.

Liberals claim the state should be involved in everything outside its domain.  Meanwhile, it can’t achieve what’s within it.  An unmanageable entity that shrugs while those vying to be its head of state are forced to duck is surely proficient at educating whippersnappers and healing the sick.

Nostalgia is acceptable when present life sucks.  Even those posted to insulate politicians from harm were better during the Reagan era.  Agents exposed themselves to shots to guard a body.  The soft reboot is never as impressive.  The erstwhile paladin of competitors will have to get a job at her cousin's cleaners.

Trump’s raised fist replaced the most avatars.  But the agent hiding behind the person she was supposed to cover is the emblematic image of the fiends’s attempt even if tweeters don’t want to use it as their social media identity.  Two kinds of dastards simultaneously plied their respective crafts.

Facts were another casualty.  Journalists who didn’t seem particularly concerned about a wounded finalist for the top office naturally treated the unqualified coward like the victim.  You are such a sexist for pointing out the female agents and director screwed up their sole duty.

I’m not saying women are unable to thwart murder plots against campaigners.  But these particular women sure couldn’t.  It turns out all those cruel right-wing conspiracy junkies got details right.  The eternally helpful press will act like they endorsed the truth all along instead of branding those who noticed it as duplicitous misogynists.

Changing the definition of what’s real is part of the career description for contemporary reporters.  Respectability for what they do vanished just as it has for the bumbling Secret Service agents they shroud from consequences.

Sentinels of objectivity got in plenty of lying practice while defending a diminished White House dweller who’s always been infected with mendaciousness.  Like claiming Barack Obama didn’t lead Biden off the stage before then proclaiming the incumbent is unfit to double his time in power, the acceptance of actuality just took a couple days.

What’s next: the Secret Service enlists a female for the sake of it?  Oh: the parody came true.  The prototypical DEI appointment set back diversity, equity, and inclusion.  If you want to halt the assertion that hiring based on superficial characteristics has become the standard, stop hiring applicants who can’t shelter a potential president.  Now, vote for her opponent unless you want to be labeled prejudiced against her race and gender.

Cheatle was the Pepsi of directors.  The serving of empty energy fittingly served as the unpalatable Coca-Cola substitute’s security director.  No, it’s not okay.  She can return to ensuring sodie pop cans don’t get shot.  I’m sure she can get her gig back: it’s not like her blundering almost got a candidate killed any more than there are quotes that haunt her like “I thrive on chaos.”

Mean Republicans cheering employment loss are always moaning about having to perform tasks.  Cruel capitalists think an occupation is for creating value instead of an entitlement in order to earn a living wage.  Results during shifts are predictable.

Usually, a federal stooge having to seek a position in a productive field merely offers economic benefit.  But saving confiscated cash with the loss of a useless worker is merely the start.  Cheatle was still overseeing the survival of Trump and the incumbent after a nefarious twerp with a grudge and ladder nearly rewrote the timeline on her quasi-watch.

If you’re unable to notice a high place would be an appealing perch for an aspiring murderer of the prominent individual you’re supposed to keep alive, this may not be the department for you.  The embodiment of terrible work not only avoided getting fired the night of her greatest shame but left on her own terms in a summary of Washington that’s a bit too perfect.  She’s convenient to point at for those who think the federal labor pool is exponentially too deep and filled with people who can’t swim.  But I’d rather have contenders be safe.

[stuffedeggplants]

If you're curious, I can provide some perspective on why people who may typically gravitate towards more traditional FPS games may not appreciate the harvesting mechanics. In a nutshell, it's about expectations (whether they be well or poorly managed) and what the player wants out of a game when they sit down to play.

In shooters that have an unlock progression system, you typically unlock new weapons and equipment through your performance in the game and the mere act of progressing through it. That may look like completing a certain number of matches, beating certain missions, defeating certain enemies, getting certain achievements or completing challenges, etc. But what are you ultimately doing to accomplish all those things? Shooting things. You get new weapons and gear by using weapons enough and in different ways.

I've only played Far Cry 4 in the Far Cry series, but that's essentially how you unlock new weapons in the game. There's no aspect where you primarily need to switch to a very different type of task--like solving puzzles--to unlock most weapons and equipment. In Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, the main way these unlocks are promoted to you is exploration-based and mildly luck-based--search for and through the correct area, then encounter the plant while it's night and raining-- and has a tiny puzzle-solving dimension as well: figure out which of eight directions is the correct way to move your mouse/controller to harvest the plant. In other words, the game is unlike most shooters in that you cannot shoot your way to a stronger vest or bow or arm guard. While you can shoot your way to better human weapons, for the Na'vi weapons and all the armor it seems like you typically need at least one gathering-based component. You can shoot and get an animal hide or tooth, but the other parts of the recipe may ask for moss, bark, a shell, some other plant product, etc.

The game wants you to explore and gather, but for certain people who strongly prefer FPS games, they recognize the Far Cry-like skeleton beneath Frontiers of Pandora and consequently expect FPS-like mechanics and a more Far Cry-like experience. The people really pushing back against exploration and puzzle-solving (the gathering mechanic) as a way to progress gear-wise are like people who strongly prefer traditional Mexican food going out to eat and intending to have traditional Mexican food, but unknowingly going to a Korean-Mexican fusion restaurant and being kind of annoyed that they have to ask the waiter not to put gochujang cabbage slaw and diced Asian pear on their tacos. Their preferences are perfectly valid, but the restaurant is ultimately Korean-Mexican fusion and is also perfectly valid in offering up its own vision to the public to experience. The customers need to modulate their expectations and not expect either pure Mexican or pure Korean, and yeah it is annoying if you didn't realize what the restaurant was before sitting down, but it's also ultimately not the restaurant's fault if you didn't read their menu posted outside the door.

We can expand the two-cuisines metaphor to two different experiences that people might look for in this video game, and of course it's possible to equally want both or more or less of one or the other. On one hand we have a desire to experience the world of the game as the characters within it do-- what's it like to be Na'vi and live in and interact with this world? How does their culture filter and reflect that experience? At the very least, the gathering mechanic and Hunter's Guide represent a very basic simulation of Na'vi using generations of accumulated cultural knowledge to go out and collect things that are the literal building blocks of their material culture and beyond. For people who heavily prefer Korean food over Mexican, this is the main attraction of the game, and the combat is just something to get over with as painlessly as possible.

For people who count FPSs in general as a top genre of interest, the best way I think I can describe the interest to you is like being really into the challenge of team sports, using everything at your disposal--your sports equipment, your training, the physical layout of the field or court itself, the weather, etc.--to strategize against and beat a team that is intelligently employing the exact same sort of calculus against you. It's a challenging competition where lots of tiny things matter, you work as a team (or hopefully with a really smart AI), and winning is proof/validation of your own skill and preparation that you really worked for. For some people like this, the cultural meaning behind Na'vi bodypaint or the biology of a certain plant are very much secondary to questions like "how can I use this pattern or vest to prevent the other team (the RDA) from seeing me and targeting me?" or "how can I use the flammable nature of this plant and the geological formations of this area to set up a trap for the RDA soldier patrolling the back entrance to the base I need to capture?"

I know "the devs" aren't a monolith all sharing one opinion, but I think a lot of them might actually be happy that people who more strongly prefer one approach/play-style over the other can adjust the game to better suit their preferences and still enjoy playing! And I say this as someone who has posted rare-pair fanfiction and original works to AO3--even getting one person who really likes and appreciates those stories makes it feel like a worthwhile effort regardless of the even greater numbers of people who would not like or even care to read those stories, and I've seen a lot of people online who absolutely love exploring and reading the Hunter's Guide and think the gathering system is pretty cool (and maybe not even detailed enough!)

I've been playing a whole lot of Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora, and it's been pretty great so far. I'm not super into the combat; it's not my thing, and I'm not very good at it. But the environment is incredible! And I'm a sucker for xenobiology, so just wandering around and marveling at all the different plants and animals is more than enough to allow me to enjoy myself.

I wandered onto YouTube to look at some videos, namely ones that discuss fun little secrets and tips that one may miss while playing.

And y'all, I had another one of those moments where I don't really "get" what people want put of their games.

So like, one of the mechanics in this game involves harvesting resources. Pretty standard thing in any sort of survival/crafting game, but AFOP makes it so much more interesting. Each harvestable has to be carefully tilted a certain way (with mouse or controller) to harvest it properly. Otherwise, the quality suffers, reflected in an item's stats. In addition, each one has a specific environmental factor that affects its quality. Certain plants are best harvested when it's raining. Others with its dry. Others at night. And so on.

One of the YouTube videos I watched had the guy going on and in about what a waste of time the harvesting mechanic was, and how there was an option to turn it off that should absolutely be taken.

Which. Like. I love having that option for accessibility! But waving off an immersive, unique mechanic as something annoying and time consuming? Specifically recommending turning it off so you can just run around and collect everything you see, with no effort, like all the other games?

I was so disappointed in that. Like... this game tries so hard to immerse you in its world, and part of that is taking care and harvesting mindfully, like a Na'vi would do. Learning and memorizing the particulars of every plant. Taking time and not just... I don't know. Running around grabbing shit and just rushing about to shoot more things.

I've seen people complain that the game is just "Far Cry with Blue People," and then they go ahead and recommend skipping gameplay to essentially make it more like Far Cry. Or any other generic FPS.

And I don't understand it. It's like... you see a thing that devs clearly put in there to make things more immersive, to give their game a certain feel, and you just shove it aside so that you can reduce the game down to its most basic, dull components. Why? What is even the point of making all of these games unique if you forcibly avoid what makes them such?

I mean... people should be able to play games as they like, of course. But it's weird to specifically identify a unique mechanic as some sort of flaw that needs to be bypassed.

I dunno. It just makes me feel kind of sad and put out. It makes me think of devs working hard to perfect a thing that they feel is going to help make their game unique and enjoyable, only for someone to shove it aside because it gets in the way of the most basic gameplay in existence.

Bleh.

[my-psychological-tower]

7, 19, 35

gahh my brain is kinda fried from work. I picked up an easy ticket to finish at the end of the day but it wound up having a lot of math involved that I had to manually correct. Prepare for this to get weird.

7. If you could create ANY mix-up or mythical animal and have it be brought to life, what would it be?

I only saw the "mix-up" part at first, so I was pondering if I had a favorite animal from Avatar. Couldn't really pick one (betraying the fact that I've never managed to finish Avatar, despite many attempts).

I did come up with a Red Panda Cat which I think would be adorable. That's gotta be my answer.

19. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favorite character in it?

Most recently watched The Man From U.N.C.L.E. It's not a film with particularly rich characters, being a comedy spy film, but Henry Cavill's Napoleon Solo gave enough classic Bond energy that I'll claim him as a favorite.

35. What did you think was cool when you were younger?

For a really dumb story from when I was really young- When the Rugrats: All Growed Up film came out, one of the plot points was some of the characters went to a concert and there was some dialog like "It's our first concert! We're officially teenagers!" And I thought being a teenager must be the coolest thing ever, and going to a concert is what makes you a teenager. I demanded to go outside in the back yard that evening where I pretended that Pikachu was holding a concert.

The reality of that event was that I was ~halfway to even being 13 and I just danced around the backyard for a couple minutes, being supervised by my mom. So very cool.

Being a teenager turned out to only be moderately cool. I wasn't as adventurous as I maybe could have been in hindsight. I didn't go to concerts but I was in concerts, if playing the biggest jazz club in Cleveland twice counts. I was also once in a group that decided to see how fast we could get a piano to roll under our own power. That's unrelated to the jazz club thing, but we all played those gigs. One teacher saw us racing the piano and yelled at us for it, calling it "the most dangerous thing (he's seen) in 15 years!"

I guess I bring that up to say, yeah, that was fairly dangerous. But, by being smart about what stupid shit we were up to, we didn't face any real consequences. We got yelled at, but my takeaway from it was "wait, what the fuck happened 15 years ago that could have possibly been more dangerous?" I wouldn't be able to get away with something like that today. Anyways, I guess the moral of the story is that going to concerts isn't cool, but speeding with a piano is.

Questions from this ask meme, if you want more sorta-unsolicited stories!

[house-of-laminations]

The Masterlist™

This here is where you can find my fics, headcanons, and other fan-related works! See down the bottom for request rules! Looking for my ask responses? Find them here. I have a tag for my MC Exsa here. I also have an OM OC -> Creet the Sentient Demon Fungus

Here is my Ao3 where I crosspost all my fics for safety reasons (just in case I get banned again). And I also have a nsfw blog for my steamier asks and hc's but that one's 18+, sorry kiddos.

📚 Fics

From Afar (Brothers Edition) In which there are consequences for being loved and missed by ancient and powerful beings.

From Afar (Dateables & Luke Edition) Love can come in many forms. To be missed is to be loved - even by beings whose entirety is unknowable to you.

Ensnared (request related to 'From Afar') Setting the scene for the types of people who aren't pleased with the demonic corruption effecting their world. (and a glimpse into the brothers experiencing their own corruption)

The Incident (a follow-up to Ensnared) MC has been taken by Demon Hunters. How do they cope? And more importantly - how do the brothers get them back? (aka 4500 words of angst, vibes, and literal depravity)

From the Outside (a request during "The Incident") A brief look into how Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon, and Luke each handle knowing MC's situation. Angst angst angst.

Responsibility MC finding out about Dia's role in 'The Incident', followed by a confrontation and some heavy Dia angst about what it means to be a Prince of Hell.

Evolutionary Biology 101 with Prof. MC Sure. They may be ancient entities that predate humanity but that doesn't mean these demons pay attention. 5.5k words of MC finding out the brothers know nothing about human evolution and their attempts to correct that.

Only Human It's one thing to be loved by these ancient monstrosities. It's another to feel like you deserve it. You're only human, after all. A follow-up to From Afar.

Be Not Afraid The first time MC sees each of the brothers' true forms, and the circumstances that lead to those moments.

📒 Headcanons

True Form Headcanons Or, at the very least - the 'vibes' of their true forms

Lilith and MC The relationship and parallels between Lilith and MC, and how and why they're manifesting.

Eldritch Demonic/Cosmic Divinity It's finally here. Thinking about the 'lore' of what it means to be an angel, a demon, and an avatar.

RAD Headcanons From a postgrad who thinks returning to high school is a punishment from hell.

Cursed Crypto Headcanons Who would be into cryptocurrencies/NFTs if they were a thing in the Devildom. (THIS IS A JOKE THIS IS A JOKE THIS IS A JOKE)

Obey Me: starring a Bogan MC Just a whole heap of headcanons about how a bogan MC would behave in Devildom. Resplendent with all sorts of Australian-isms

✏️ Requests? (Closed)

Want to see my take on a particular prompt or idea? I'm happy to write headcanons, drabbles, and short fics! Just send through an ask :) Angst, fluff, romance, fantasy, and horror are my typical wheelhouses - with an emphasis on a combination of all of these things. I’m always down for trying new things though!

Things I won't write are: explicit nsft/w (on this blog - be sure to shuffle over to purgatory-ho for my nsfw writing), next-gen/pregnancy stuff, physical or emotional abuse.

Make sure to check back occasionally - I’ll update this list as I post 💛 (also: please don’t expect any kind of schedule from me. I do this to procrastinate from the writing I’m supposed to do, so things tend to be sporadic).