Mystic Seer of the Future

To my threading partners, I am sorry to leave. This is very much an individual callout post, and you are not required to read it. I loved my time here with you. I am sorry that your administration has driven me out, and then withdrawn from my own endeavors and stolen membership from us in doing so, but those who would blindly follow a false god belong with them.

On the 28th of March last year I found courage and solace in liberating myself, on this blog, from an oppressive regime founded under a woman of vile constitution and false humanity who used emotional manipulation, gaslighting, lies, cowardice, and abuses of her power to control the system and drive people as an empty god on her hollow throne.

Today, the 11th of January, I have been quietly dismissed, without my drop even being published, by another such coward, someone who prides themselves on their ability to criticize others while claiming openness. We became friends because of our mutual trauma and we found new homes. Together. It saddens me now to be forced to leave by the same hand as one year ago. Much like a manectric blaming you for their electricity shocking you, I find a new, evolved version of the same problematic behavior here in UBR.

I am glad to leave, given how the situation has been handled. With no attempt to speak with me, one of the individuals affected, and you can plainly see the mass drop and understand who was affected, I find myself once again unable to be quiet despite being in some ways silenced by management. The moderators left here at UBR are essentially a puppeteer and its playthings, abusing the system and their own rules, cowering away from responsibility while controlling things, and actively spreading lies when concerns are brought up.

My dear Jiji, did you really think you could exaggerate and stretch the truth to people as though no screenshots of reality exist to disprove your ridiculous nonsense? Did you really think you could casually and constantly victimize my child without me knowing? Without any of us knowing? Already you poison people against us. Why? How could you possibly claim the victim after being so horrible to people? How could you possibly spin this? I know how, and it because you are too much like her.

The cultish false happiness of your server makes me physically ill because of the fakeness of it all. Screaming joy at people and love as though you really mean it despite turning around and stabbing your fellow mod in the back multiple times and slandering her name? To her friends? You are no different from Cas, and I don’t mean only in how you mod, but how you write, how you manipulate other roleplayers around you, how you don trauma on your muses as accessories to make them interesting. It makes me sick. In many ways, from how you interact with people to how you write to how you run this group:

You, Jiji, are no different from Cas.

And this is why I have had to leave. Your inability to be a proper mod who follows their own rules, your manipulation of other mods into puppets for your defense, especially around sloppy activity and an unwillingness to take responsibility for it, the way you encourage unhealthy behaviors in your fellow muns in the discord server, the way you nearly force people to coddle and celebrate your muses, and furthermore your disregard for most things. You ignore canon everywhere to suit your needs and then criticize people for doing the same thing.

Hypocrite that you are, slanderer, liar, manipulator, tyrant, and above all else, coward, even sending your puppet to do your work for you because it’s too hard and no one else can have emotions or need things because yours are more important, who try to silence voices and manipulate speech patterns for your own comfort, who use your mental affliction as an excuse for bad behavior with no remorse and no attempt at taking responsibility or improving, but tout your adjustedness as an advice giver to people, I fear for those who you fold in the way I did for every single person Cas made her confidante. You are the problem with UBR, a problem I have had since this place opened.

@pokelabsbrat |

Since meeting by accident and exploring the legends of Johto together, Morty found himself growing strangely attached to the young and curious hero from Orre. He had saved them from captivity, the mystical beasts and birds of his homeland, and there was something genuine, something pleasant, about Michael. He’d spent the night in Morty’s home, and they’d kept in contact since then. Morty had time to leave home, and had been to Orre only once or twice previously. This time he had direction. He was meeting Michael

Gateon Port was new for him, and a bit strange in it’s bustly hub nature, but it did make sense. Not too overwhelming, at least. Gengar stayed in his shadow, watching out for any signs of danger or good opportunities to frighten a mass of strangers. Naughty, but with good intentions. And then he spotted the rambunctious youth, waving to attract his attention.

It was easy to recognize Morty–something about his aura, as the other might have said. So he waved him over, giving the other an awkward attempt at a smile as he gave his own greeting. 

“Hey. Things are pretty fine. It’s nice to see you again. Was there anything in particular you were interested in seeing here?” Orre didn’t have much to offer, really. Michael figured a trip to the Pre Gym might be of interest, maybe a quick look in on ONBS for Morty to see some of the people who’d helped him save the legends. And of course they’d visit the Lab. 

“Anything at all, really,” he said. “Especially those things related to your journey. I would like to understand how you did what you did, for Johto’s sake.”

He was glad to be in Orre, finally. Though he loved to stay in Ecruteak, it was important to travel when possible, especially to visit new friends. Michael was an odd bird, to be certain, so full of conflicting things, but very much good hearted, with a great sense of purpose when he chose to focus.

Morty had acquired a new ghost, a friend that liked to make a mess of things, but was sweet as could be. Glamis, a black mound of sand containing a dark spirit. He was a sweet and precious thing, and Morty decided he would visit Alola, where the pokemon originated from. Who better to accompany him than another Alolan native?

He and Kimaru made an easy and pleasant journey there, settling in and wandering to the beach as the sun melted behind the ocean. She seemed especially quiet, contemplative, and at peace. Morty let Glamis run free on the shore.

“It is high time I see where you come from, Kimaru,” he said, measured and low. “Home can be difficult to find or to make. There is always something melancholy in it. To have a home makes all else something different. Freedom can be so binding.”

Glamis scootched around, half burying himself and then uncovering to move again. Morty watched him with an awful smile. It was strange to see Kimmi at peace, speaking quietly. Not unheard of, but much rarer than he excited dancing.

Kimaru’s eyes hadn’t left the horizon, wanting to watch it and see the lights slowly fade away into night, where the spirits would be freer to do as they pleased. Their voices just seemed to mingle well with the atmosphere. The soothing waves that washed along the shore and the smells that radiated from the ocean. Everything was just…peaceful.

She could feel the energy of the ocean. It spoke to her in ways that nothing else could. Her father used to tell her when she was very young that she was born from the sea. And she believed him. Because nothing ever felt like home more like the ocean did.

Kimaru, born from the waves, a spirit of water come to life like an ancient god had fallen in love with the earth, and from the floor of his ocean home he made some kind of pledge, the sand mixed with saltwater turning into a child. She had always felt that way too him. Too much water, but she could do anything because of it. It could make a person so restless, but they could cut through the world to make their path, no matter what the world might try to say to them to stop them.

“I used to feel at home in Ecruteak. I had a home that was mine and my..- We move on.” It was uncharacteristically short of him in tone. “Home is not a place, it is not something we can see or touch. Sometimes home is dancing. Sometimes it is at the bottom of a pot of tea, or buried beneath a pool at the top of Mt. Moon. Sometimes it runs across the world chasing a dream, and it leaves you as cold as the ice it seeks. Sometimes it is death.”

You speak too much of the self, Morty.

“My mother never felt at home,” he said. “My father always did. Perhaps I am too much drawn between ideals.”

starter for @phantomoftheteahouse

Kimaru had grown to miss the push and pull of the ocean, so much that she would find ways to reunite herself with the water whenever she had the chance. It was a draw on her, and she could never let it go. The ocean felt like home, like a place she could stay forever. It was hypnotic, and she wouldn’t ignore it’s call forever.

Morty had said he was going to be taking a trip to Alola, and Kimaru absolutely jumped at the chance to not only go spend some time with her big brother, but to reunite her spirit with the sea. she packed her small bag of things, and journeyed to her homeland. Maybe one day she would come back for good, but she loved her job as a Kimono Girl, and wasn’t sure she could have both.

He and Kimaru made an easy and pleasant journey there, settling in and wandering to the beach as the sun melted behind the ocean. She seemed especially quiet, contemplative, and at peace. Morty let Glamis run free on the shore.

“It is high time I see where you come from, Kimaru,” he said, measured and low. “Home can be difficult to find or to make. There is always something melancholy in it. To have a home makes all else something different. Freedom can be so binding.”