#trail of crumbs

[space-blue]

may we know what is the crumbs 3 wip? 👀

Aha! It's the 3rd chapter of the fic A Trail Of Crumbs whose concept I adore but fell out of love with when I stumbled out of the Avatar fandom.

It follows Recom Miles Quaritch after the events of the film, lone survivor back on base and wrestling with the increasing dread brought about by a series of 'crumbs' he picks up on over time. RDA staff say and do weird things. The way he's treated seems odd. Ah, and his fucking custom watch. The tattoos they all have... Stuff doesn't really add up.

The goal of the fic was to explore the nature of the 'soul drives', how edited recom memories are, and the growing realisation that Miles isn't anywhere near his old human self, not any more than any other Marine with a similar background.

It was pure vibes of Blade Runner, artificial memories, created as a sentient tool unaware of their own artificiality beyond the obvious, etc.

In the end, I think I explored the concept better in this short comic in Mansk POV.

Chapter 3 crumbs is the incomplete conversation between Aslan and Miles, hinting at past Miles/Parker Selfridge. I stuck to dialogue only towards the end so it grows barebones, but I'll put what I have under the cut for the curious because I honestly don't think I'll finish this unless Avatar 3 makes me its bitch again.

'Why did you come back to Pandora?'

'Well, we landed in fanfare, as you can imagine.'

Yes, Miles can well imagine the media shit-storm so politely labelled fanfare. There's a part of him he's not particularly proud of that is glad his own death allowed him to skip this particular shitshow. He'd been, after all, the man in charge of operations at the time. Had pulled rank and everything. The media would have vivisected his career, his entire being. It's unlikely to have been much kinder to other RDA personal, returning with their tails between their legs.

'And in the middle of all this, my family...' Aslan gnaws on their lip, their faraway look snapping back to Miles with sudden intensity. 'We weren't really friends, you and I. You weren't one to hang out with the "science pukes", right? You'd know about my family if you had. I used to complain quite vocally whenever I got a comm from them. The old vent, you know. Anyway, let's say they were there, at the landing pad, waiting for me. In the middle of all that... fanfare.'

They look through the blinds, over the blighted landscape of concrete and metal, crawling with bots and shivering with heat and ship exhaust fumes.

'I signed up for the next mission over.'

Miles nods politely. He knows the type of family they're alluding to. He's met people who worked on the Mars terraforming program off world, because restoring Uganda's water table wasn't far enough of a getaway. Pandora's one of the furthest frontiers known to mankind. Different appeal to the science pukes, who generally arrive thrilled to go pull up grass, but dysfunctional families are universal, and to many RDA workers, the distance is a bonus.

He goes to say some platitude, that he understands, because really, he does. But Aslan cuts him off with a sharp hand gesture.

'Can we cut the crap, General? I mean Miles. You're not interested in my family, and you're keeping me away from the deeply fascinating samples I've come all the way here to put under a microscope, so let's just talk.'

Miles is struck by the sudden realisation that he's got no easy segway ready to start on the whole RDA conspiracy thing. He turns a few sentences over in his mind, growing discomfort flattening his ears to his skull. Should he threaten Aslan? Ask plainly? He's burning to cut the crap, as asked. But Aslan is also the one who'd gone to great pains to arrange a believable meeting between them, who'd seeded fear into his mind.

The manual had held no hint when he consulted it. The term soul drive had an asterix to an appendix that wasn't in the book.

'Something bothering you?'

Miles smiles tightly. 'You can tell?'

'You have a long way to go before you obtain a Na'vi poker face. I suggest you stay away from the Thursday games.'

To hell with it. It's not like he expects he'll make it past the court martial, the way things are going.

'Why do your people tattoo us?'

'You flatter me if you think me this involved, but that happens on the ship over, with a crew well out of my jurisdiction.'

A deflection. He'll be damned. 'I'd appreciate an answer,' he says, putting steel into his voice. 'Of the straight kind, too, if you can manage those.'

'A jab at my sexuality? Too easy. Is the tattooing what's bothering you? Really?' Aslan's smile is knowing, the light in their eyes dances with unwholesome mischief.

'Let's say that I've tried and failed to find a better starting point.'

'All right then. Let's do a short test. Answer my questions fast and truthfully.'

Miles relaxes. 'Sure.'

'Year of birth?'

'2104.'

'Do you have a son?'

'...Yes.'

'What was his mother's name?'

'Paz Socorro.'

'What year was she born?'

'I...'

'Am not sure?'

'I don't think we discussed it, but—'

'You had her file. She was one of yours, wasn't she? Surely you remember how old she was?'

'I think—'

But Aslan doesn't let him catch his breath. 'Who was Parker Selfridge to you?'

Miles sits straight, ears point to attention now. Will Aslan also reek of fear if he answers 'friend', no matter how much of an overstatement the word might feel? Heck, they asked for fast answers, so he says, 'He wasn't exactly my boss, but he was the Head suit in charge.'

'I need an honest answer,' they say, rasping a knuckle on the table.

Miles has his jaw hanging. What do they want from him?

'Do you recall leaning in his doorway?' Aslan continues, hardly slowing down. 'Poring over maps together?'

'Well, we...'

'Do you remember the way he laughed at your jokes? You leaned into the corny dad humour and he loved it. Do you remember your mug?'

'Yes.'

'Do you remember how you got it?'

'...Selfridge? Wasn't it Paz?'

'That's a question, so I'll take it as a no. Moving on to—'

'All right, all right. You've made your point.'

'What point do you think this is?'

'My memories are incomplete.'

'No, Miles.' Aslan sighs and sinks into their chair. 'Your memories are edited.'

It's somewhat depressing that of all the emotions he feels in that moment, surprise is not one of them

'Look at it this way. The machine scours your neural pathworks, and bounces memories. But it can't recreate the events that got you there, and it can't recreate what you blocked even from your own wakeful memory. Things you've forgotten, things you've hidden under too many layers, things you've trained to look away from.'

'So we're missing chunks?'

'Yes, all soul drives are inherently incomplete. That's why the technology isn't widespread. But that's not it. When you're in the machine, they can trigger memory chains. It helps map out... Look, it's hard to simplify, especially since it's not my specialty either, but they can snip out entire sections, like cauterizing a thought beyond surface level, or blot out all emotional reactions to a concept.'

'Are you saying... Do you actually mean the RDA edited the story of my life like a fucking home movie?'

They shrug. 'Yeah. That's the gist of it.'

'That in the contract I signed?'

'Of course not. Come on, colonel, you worked private long enough to have seen this coming. What? Do you think they'd give a fuck if you had issues with your situation?'

Miles rubs a shaky hand over his eyes, trying his best to remember the sound of Parker's laugh. 'Are you— Are you saying Selfridge and I were close—'

'Close is a good euphemism.'

'—and they erased so much of it, I freaked the shrink out by referring to him as a friend?'

Aslan tuts. 'Bad move.'

Miles gives them a sickly sweet smile. 'What a shame nobody warned me about the nature of this assessment!'

[satans-knitwear]

We can be trusted around baked goods.

[topaz-mutiny]

I was on the edge of my seat chewing the scenery and errant soda cans.

Damn that roleplay was SO GOOD. More of that please!

[madevampselle]

I think Claudia and Madeleine are destined to be very good friends.

[aparticularbandit]

Kyoko and Junko are two sides of the same coin, in terms of their Ultimate abilities.

Junko is the Ultimate Analyst, which lets her analyze and learn Talents, sure, but most importantly lets her predict what's going to happen in the future based on the data she has. Trends, people, interactions, relationships - all of that is something she can mentally and easily comb through to accurately guess at what will happen in the next step, two steps, three steps.

Junko's Talent lets her predict the future. Accurately.

Kyoko is the Ultimate Detective, which lets her analyze the past and figure out what happened to get people where they are now. She can look at people and determine their current everything and accurately determine how that grew out of their past everything. She observes to find motives to explain a current murder by gathering details that show what previously happened.

Kyoko's Talent lets her retrace the past. Accurately.

Between the two of them, they can see everything.

[gentleauroch]

Hello I love my cat

[morgandekarios]

THE LIP BITE OH MY GOD ???????

[silenthill2ps2]

remember how on kinblr people would just put their mental issues in their about pages no fucks given

[theplantbish]

Imagine adding a source link to your post when sharing media, wouldn't that be so cute? Just a little [x], a sexy little [source]. What if I'm curious about the media you've shared and want to learn more about it? What if I want to see the entire piece of media, not just the little snippet you've shared? And you've thought of that beforehand by adding a source link? That's so sweet, kind and, dare I say, sexy of you

[autopsiedsage]

a bakery has invaded my notes.

[strifesolution]

sometimes i go fandom deep diving and regret my choices

[loquatenjoyer69]

More Natori/Wavering/Younger Cousin Thoughts

CHAPTER 116 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT:

"Mitsuru will welcome you, show you that same scene; we can share our hearts without any falsehoods and become ones who stand up to those people together. You needn't walk alone into the night's darkness any longer." "...Wanting that was my weakness." Normally in scenes where a character is being offered their desire come true at the "cost" of living in a dream/illusion/etc, the expected response is something like "No, even though I want that and life is painful, it's still worth living because it's real and that would be an illusion/false," reinforcing the value of "reality" over "illusions" unquestioningly. However, Natori, instead of acknowledging that he's choosing to give up his desires to live in the Real World, goes the very unusual route of "...Wanting that was my weakness."

Or, in the mind of the reader (or me at least) with context, "...Wanting that was my weakness (which you were able to take advantage of [therefore it was dangerous to me and must be discarded])."

Mitsuru told Natsume that when she told Natori her name, he "wavered" for a moment. This was what allowed her to look into his mind and spin an illusion out of his long held desires.

"I at least wanted to know his name, to try calling out to him. So when I hurriedly told him my name... deep in his eyes, I was reflected there, wavering."

Anyway, back to what Natori says. "...Wanting that was my weakness," and...?

"I don't want that anymore. I have no use for sentimentality that just becomes weakness. I don't have a younger cousin. Mitsuru is an illusion, and you are an ayakashi, which I have chosen to spend my life fighting."

He affirms again that it's not "I don't want to live in an illusion," but "I don't want those things anymore," because "I don't need sentimentality that just becomes weakness." And then, as if he's speaking this new self into existence, "I don't have a younger cousin. The thing called Mitsuru is an illusion, and you are an ayakashi," and finally "which I have chosen to spend my life fighting," reaffirming himself as an exorcist, one who is opposed to ayakashi. It would seem that the days of wavering are over for Natori.

"I know-"

"Natori, lately you've come to resemble the Matoba brat."

[batcavescolony]

A summary of Tim Drakes start as Robin by me

Dick: *at Halys Circus*

(No Name because he did tell Dick his name): you're Nightwing, you're Dads Batman. I know where you live, where all the Titans live and all your schedules.

Dick: uhhhhhh no

Rando Kid: yep I know because I'm smart, but anyway Batman needs a Robin so I've come to get to you to be Robin again!

Dick: How about we go talk to Bruce! I'm not dealing with this

Baby stalker: fine

*at Wayne manor*

Dick: what's your name

Soon to be Robin #3: Tim, so are you gonna be Robin or not?

Dick: uhhh, you know I'd love to but I'm not Robin shaped anymore. Robin is a uhh how tall are you?

Tim: 5 ft 6?

Dick: right Robin is a 5ft 6 boy with black hair and stubborn af. Someone like that would just need a suit, one that may or may not be in his unlocked drawer. Anyway I better go save Batman from killing himself, bye *leaves*

Alfred:

Tim: hey I'm Robin shaped!

Alfred: yes you are, do you need a ride?

Tim: if that's ok with you

Tim: *is now Robin*

[lunarrosette]

I hope im not just so random tumblr user to you all but also the most delusional nark shipper

[gentleauroch]

What are you doing up there pray tell

[hypocriticalspicewrites]

Hey... So like... If yall wanna leave me some asks, the letter box is open..~ 👀 you know for asks, and headcanons, n' stuff..~