If I Was Thomas "Coil" Calvert, I Would Use My Chokehold Over PRT To Invent The Thirteenth Parahuman

If I was Thomas "Coil" Calvert, I would use my chokehold over PRT to invent the thirteenth parahuman classification, "the Shitter", which I would assign to people I didn't like.

The person I reblogged this from is someone I enjoy seeing on my dashboard.

Remember the Regent crickets post? I wound up speculating about the other combinations.

(Note: I'm assuming no relevant changes except the powers they end up with. Canon backgrounds, canon trigger events, inexplicably irrelevant power.)

General notes:

I can't imagine a timeline where Rachel gets powers and becomes a respectable member of society. Either she's ostracized for her inability to fit in, or she avoids society. Or both.

Alec's fate is defined as much by his environment as his power. Heartbreaker will try to make him a villainous minion if he can think of a way to do so.

By contrast, Lisa is suited for living in normal society. If her parents don't push Lisa away by trying to exploit her new powers, she might or might not become a cape. It's unlikely for her to become a supervillain without the right power (and others with her power aren't likely to become supervillains).

Like Lisa, Brian isn't predisposed to villainy; villainy is just the only clear way to achieve what he wants with the tools he ends up with. With a subtler or more aesthetically heroic power, he probably ends up on a different path. Unfortunately, most of the Undersiders also have unsubtle and aesthetically villainous powers, so most of these scenarios don't butterfly-effect much for him.

Aisha's parahuman career is warped by the fact that her brother started one before her. Aisha's path is different in an AU where Brian is a Thinker with an office job, than one where he wound up Birdcaged.

Taylor's the most flexible. She has something she wants to escape, and we know she'll try to find a way to use any parahuman ability she gets to escape it, one way or another.

Your Daily Reminder to Click for Palestine!

https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/theyre-not-human-how-19th-century-inuit-coped-with-a-real-life-invasion-of-the-walking-dead

Indigenous groups across the Americas had all encountered Europeans differently. But where other coastal groups such as the Haida or the Mi’kmaq had met white men who were well-fed and well-dressed, the Inuit frequently encountered their future colonizers as small parties on the edge of death.

“I’m sure it terrified people,” said Eber, 91, speaking to the National Post by phone from her Toronto home.

And it’s why, as many as six generations after the events of the Franklin Expedition, Eber was meeting Inuit still raised on stories of the two giant ships that came to the Arctic and discharged columns of death onto the ice.

Inuit nomads had come across streams of men that “didn’t seem to be right.” Maddened by scurvy, botulism or desperation, they were raving in a language the Inuit couldn’t understand. In one case, hunters came across two Franklin Expedition survivors who had been sleeping for days in the hollowed-out corpses of seals.

“They were unrecognizable they were so dirty,” Lena Kingmiatook, a resident of Taloyoak, told Eber.

Mark Tootiak, a stepson of Nicholas Qayutinuaq, related a story to Eber of a group of Inuit who had an early encounter with a small and “hairy” group of Franklin Expedition men evacuating south.

“Later … these Inuit heard that people had seen more white people, a lot more white people, dying,” he said. “They were seen carrying human meat.”

Even Eber’s translator, the late Tommy Anguttitauruq, recounted a goose hunting trip in which he had stumbled upon a Franklin Expedition skeleton still carrying a clay pipe.

By 1850, coves and beaches around King William Island were littered with the disturbing remnants of their advance: Scraps of clothing and camps still littered with their dead occupants. Decades later, researchers would confirm the Inuit accounts of cannibalism when they found bleached human bones with their flesh hacked clean.

“I’ve never in all my life seen any kind of spirit — I’ve heard the sounds they make, but I’ve never seen them with my own eyes,” said the old man who had gone out to investigate the Franklin survivors who had straggled into his camp that day on King William Island.

The figures’ skin was cold but it was not “cold as a fish,” concluded the man. Therefore, he reasoned, they were probably alive.

“They were beings but not Inuit,” he said, according to the account by shaman Nicholas Qayutinuaq.

The figures were too weak to be dangerous, so Inuit women tried to comfort the strangers by inviting them into their igloo.

But close contact only increased their alienness: The men were timid, untalkative and — despite their obvious starvation — they refused to eat.

The men spit out pieces of cooked seal offered to them. They rejected offers of soup. They grabbed jealous hold of their belongings when the Inuit offered to trade.

When the Inuit men returned to the camp from their hunt, they constructed an igloo for the strangers, built them a fire and even outfitted the shelter with three whole seals.

Then, after the white men had gone to sleep, the Inuit quickly packed up their belongings and fled by moonlight.

Whether the pale-skinned visitors were qallunaat or “Indians” — the group determined that staying too long around these “strange people” with iron knives could get them all killed.

“That night they got all their belongings together and took off towards the southwest,” Qayutinuaq told Dorothy Eber.

But the true horror of the encounter wouldn’t be revealed until several months later.

The Inuit had left in such a hurry that they had abandoned several belongings. When a small party went back to the camp to retrieve them, they found an igloo filled with corpses.

The seals were untouched. Instead, the men had eaten each other.

I can see Amy hating herself enough to have an amnesia inducing meltdown. Calling Victoria through muscle memory and being too shocked and grief-stricken to talk when she answers. Mourning the living. Deifying her love and putting an ideal version of her on a pedestal. Awful yet sincere karaoke. A binoclard torque-dork with plenty of empathy would fix her I agree. Would she be a Sorry Cop?

People say that Amy Dallon is the Shinji of Parahumans, but I declare that she's actually Harry Dubois. I will put this theory in practice the moment I figure out how to write a quest fanfic.