#these are more fearful assumptions than certainties ]

[kiealer]

META ASKS: If Your OC Was Canon. // accepting!

@unboundpower​ asked:

What changes do you think would be made between your muse as they exist in your head vs how they would be treated as part of canon? / go off if you need to 🍵

THIS...... is a difficult question.

As Ninazu is now, i.e. how I write her, she's a strong-willed, compassionate person who’s stubborn but only is that way because she wants to help. She’s useful even though she makes mistakes, she has her heart in the right place. She’s a legitimate asset to the team and shows that she can hold her own. 

Canon-wise is a little difficult for me to think about, but... I feel as though she may be under utilized and really only there for healing. In the beginning, she may be seen as overly-fragile and needing to be coddled by the Z Fighters at every turn. She'd be hiding behind Goku and Piccolo, always at Gohan's side, very hesitant and nervous to interact with the others. She'd be seen as a delicate flower in need of protecting, and I'm sure she would've had the Z Fighters coming to her rescue once or twice, maybe even in the midst of the Cell Juniors battle. So I'm sure she'd basically be dead weight for a lot of the fighting... I'm not sure if they'd even allow her to fight, or allow her to learn how to fight? That may still be present, but it wouldn't come very handy if she's written as cowardly or incapable.

As she gets older, as a teenager, I'm almost positive she would come across as entirely useless throughout the Buu saga. Her skills would hardly be utilized and she would be grouped in with the other women during almost the whole event. Although, to be frank, my memory of that entire arc is very limited since I haven't seen it in a long time. I wonder if they'd make her act brattier considering she's a teenage girl, but considering how they handle Videl, I think she may be safe from that.

Now in SUPER... oh, boy. As much as I love and adore that series with every fiber of my being, I know the writing can be garbage, and that does not bode well for my little hybrid. I'd like to think that the writers would keep her tolerable and likable, but I'm not entirely sure. I fear that she may be portrayed as pushier, cockier, only for her hopes to be dashed. Maybe she'd be insistent on trying to prove herself only to get pummeled by whatever threat she's facing. Hell, they might outright just not include her in some arcs aside from the ones where it would make the most sense that she'd be in. I already try to write her to fit into the story as seamlessly as possible, but Super would for sure just not know what to do with her. The only arcs I could see her having relevance in are the movie re-telling arcs and the future trunks arc, in which she may be handled terribly! Hell maybe they really WOULD have a kidnapping theme but write that as an excuse to keep her out of the story/portray how helpless she actually is and that she needs to be saved. I can only imagine how many mistakes they would have her make. Her uses in the beginning would gradually come to a stop, and she would become more redundant than anything. 

To be frank, I’m entirely unsure how canon would actually handle her, but I fear that they would take her down the wrong direction and make her a damsel in distress kind of deal, or just make her presence redundant and go along using senzu beans anyway. 

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[vesora]

is law of assumption real? yeah

i have come across an individual vilifying the loa community and i find their statements kinda funny and stupid but i love having my beliefs challenged bc i can know why i believe in this. please also read my response to this other girl who thought loa ppl were crazy. it is ok to think if it’s crazy. ur welcome to criticize it. also, i am using aesthetic pictures bc of my ocd, i need things to be divided.

this is for the people who want to listen whether LOA is real from MY perspective:

firstly, i was primed for law of assumption from a young age. this means that i experienced many and i mean MANY spiritual things from a young age. i saw spirits (not hallucinations, it was my dead grandma who i had never seen and i described her down to her ring to my dad and he started crying because it was her), started speaking french at random points without ever having consciously learned the language, heard random piano compositions in my ear which i had never heard before, had visions which protected me/warned me about the future/informed me about the future and many manyyy more things. this proves to me the power of the subconscious mind.

the difference between someone who was born with their third eye awakened versus someone who has no spiritual experiences + is not open-minded to it, is that they will view spiritual phenomena from a materialistic practical sense.

this is saddening, because humans before being impacted by materialism were so spiritual and we were the ones who created the pyramids and all the structures you see on earth. we did that.

anyways,

is it real?

my opinion: yes. 

no i am not in a cult waiting to pounce on the next vulnerable piece of meat. in fact, my future career is removing people out of cults and helping trafficking victims but anyways.

i have manifested things far beyond logic. you know how and why? because manifestation is the most basic human trait. and awakening to the fact that you are the creator of your reality is the most liberating amazing feeling and practice. i manifested one of my dying cats becoming free of cancer. that is not luck. that is manifestation. i manifested bad circumstances away. not luck, manifestation. i manifested all my exes leaving me the SAME way because i had assumed they would. not a coincidence, manifestation. there is definitely a lot we don’t know about the universe. i can’t say with certainty that all things are attributed to us which is also why i hate any form of victim blaming. but one thing is for sure is that humans have more control over our lives than we think. we don’t need a divine presence outside of us to dictate us the circumstances in OUR lives.

also, law of assumption is not law of attraction. law of attraction is “AHHH DONT THINK BAD THOUGHTS OR U WILL GET BAD JUJU” very fear-based, also seen in dogmatic religions. law of assumption uses a CBT based approach to change assumptions and therefore, influence reality. you have every right to not believe in this and even chastise me for it, i understand. however, i know this is real for me.

i was a victim of many racist attacks, however, as soon as i decided that the outside world is safe for me, i never had ONE negative experience. is this a coincidence? not for me, no. this is a human taking control of their life. this is a human not bound by societal expectations and leaning into divine energy and expressing the truest essence of one’s self. i am not blaming myself for being a victim, it is the racist’s fault. i am not blaming other victims, it is the perpetrators’ fault. however, if there is any fucking chance i can help a victim, i will take it, i do NOT care.

things i manifested regarding other people towards me:

1. no more racism towards me, family and friends.

2. parents being emotionally available with me

3. my friends expressing affection the way i want them to

4. my mum making me the exact food i visualised many times

5. my professor saying the exact words to me as i visualised

6. my friends saying to me the exact words i visualised

7. this guy flirting with me out of nowhere because i visualised it

8. and many more stuff this shit is too easy so

maybe i feel this strongly because i am a fighter for the working class. my main goal in life is to help liberate all oppressed people. if there is any chance that it can be done by mind, i would take it. would you not? would you not help people by the means you have helped yourself?

how can you so strongly and with such conviction without ever practising the law come to a conclusion that is a harmful new age ideology when the maxim prevalent in so many esoteric practices (yes, non-white too) have preached that reality is made by the mind? will we ignore the science behind it too? will we ignore the cia declassified documents? will we ignore ancient accounts of reality shifting? will we ignore hermes trismegistus? will we ignore rumi? will we ignore plato? 

you can ignore this. i won’t, however. this is the liberation of the human soul. having said this, anyone is welcome to criticise the LOA community, look at us as vultures, think we are crazy. i value all opinions (even if they’re wrong HAHA sorry). 

how is loa different from dogmatic religion?

well for one, there is evidence for conscious manifestation (e.g. dr joe dispenza’s books). i personally do not like religion. i have religious trauma so if you are religious, id advise you to not read this section. abrahamic religion is based on fear to oppress minorities, trap human potential and it also makes you rely on luck and wishful thinking (this view is only if the holy books were to be taken in the literal sense and abused by ministers etc) whereas the human is able to decide its own fate. law of assumption liberates the human by putting the human from an us vs them view to an us AND them view, meaning everyone is one and the same. this is not a christian thing, this is a well documented thing featured in asian philosophy. consciousness is the thing that unites us all. it is within you and it is within me. religion (abrahamic) forces you to look at the people who are not like you, aka dont believe what you do, as these other creatures who have defied the will of God and ahhh will face wrath. LOA instead empowers the individual and promotes free will. i understand if you think this is dangerous, the woo-woo stuff, just dont practise it.

how is loa not a cult?

loa CAN be misused in a cult but on its own it is not a cult. no one in the loa community is forcing the individual to join this practice which lowkey is just manifestation. however, i get your concerns and i advise you to read this reply: x

i wish i took pics of my cat when she was sick so i could provide u guys evidence but of course i didnt take any pics.

anyone is welcome to leave. anyone is welcome to adjust loa to their lives the way they see fit.

the void state

i doubt that so many people are lying about manifesting in the void state. i do think it’s not a big deal but i definitely don’t think it’s fake. besides, whats the harm in trying?

thing is right, if you are not garnering results or whatever, u dont need to stay. i stayed regardless of whether i manifested my shit instantly or not (which in the beginning was hard for me) because i believed in the philosophy, it resonated with me and it didn’t make me alienate my fellow man. however, if you feel you have a chance of being manipulated here or idk what, don’t join this practice. seriously, it’s okay. i am not being sarcastic or anything, because you are welcome to stay or leave. you are welcome to compliment me or insult me. i will love you either way for you are my fellow man.

also this is so random and a general thing but only psychoanalytic/psychodynamic psychologists use the subconsciously thing.

[multimilfs]

Queen Ravenna x Fem!Reader: Beyond Fury

Summary: escapetodreamworld sent... Queen Ravenna + 14 -- “You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

AO3

Prompts found here!

A/N: This is the first fic I wrote for this challenge and I love it. Charlize is amazing and getting to write for Ravenna was a lot of fun, she's a bit difficult, which makes it a nice challenge. I hope you enjoy!

Full Ficmas List

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

Warning(s): Non-con elements, Blood

It’s after nightfall when the Queen summons you. Her brother arrives at the door to your rooms, a leering grin on his mouth. You almost trip over your own dress in your haste to put distance between the two of you. 

“Where is Sir Maynard?” You ask. 

His grin gets wider, “Indisposed, I’m afraid. My sister has sent me in his place.” 

The room is freezing despite the roaring fire and furs on the floor. It feels like a trap. Sir Maynard is always the one to escort you to your Queen, his hands startlingly gentle even in the beginning; A rapport and trust building between you as your affection for Queen Ravenna grew. Fear courses through you at the thought of something befalling him. 

But nothing inspires more fear than her brother. You don’t know his name, don’t care to, for there’d always been a curious distance between the two of you. Whispers of his… proclivities reached you, and you operated under the assumption they reached your Queen too; your heart had always been warmed by the idea of her keeping you safe, even from her own family. 

Now, you wonder how you’ve deluded yourself into believing you’d ever be away from him. 

“An escort is unnecessary, Sir,” You say, trying to infuse your voice with strength, “Queen Ravenna knows I’ll come to her willingly. Though I thank you for your willingness to assist.”

His advance on you is swift and sure. In a second, his face is inches from yours, eyes boring into you. You look anywhere else. The unpleasant warmth and stench of him make your stomach twist. 

“My sister, for some reason foreign to me, may let you get away with what you wish. Watch your tongue around me unless you want to put it to good use.” He punctuates the statement with a glance downward. Your face burns with shame and rage. 

“I’d sooner lose it.” You snarl. 

A hand clasps itself around your neck and the point of a dagger is aimed at your chest. Your skin bends to make space for it. One wrong move and it will slice through, spilling blood on the dress you adore. 

You want to believe you’re protected, but you can’t say for certain; you can never say anything with certainty about your Queen. Wisely, you stay silent as he increases the pressure of his weapon and his hand. 

“You’re a stupid, vile girl.” 

The hand around your throat tightens.

“And one day I’ll have the luxury of doing what I want with you.” 

He steps back, infinitesimally, and his hands fall away. One pulls at the sleeve of your dress and pulls it down your arm, the neckline moving with it. You shiver as more of your skin is exposed to him. He stops before any of your chest is bared. 

With a lazy spin, he slashes downward. The skin splits open. You let out a pained noise, clutching your hand over the now-bleeding gash. The Queen’s brother pulls a white handkerchief from his belt and presses it into the wound roughly. Wincing, you flinch away, but hold the cloth in place. 

“Fix your dress,” He snaps, “My sister is waiting.” 

You pull up the sleeve and neckline so it hides the reddening handkerchief. A threat lingers in his eyes as he watches, then shoves you ahead. Dark soldiers flank your sides. You shiver against the chill in the air and follow their lead; you know the way just like the route to your own rooms—down several twisting halls, a few sharp lefts, and you’re before her doors—but they’re taking you somewhere different. 

Instead of the final left, you take a right. You’re brought to two large, iron doors, etched with sigils and writing you can’t understand. One of the guards pounds his fist against the door three times before opening it. 

Across the expanse of dark stone and pillars she stands facing away. Fire rages in the center of the room, drawing her full attention. You can feel the warmth of it from here and wonder how she can stand to be near it. 

“I’ve brought the girl.” Her brother says. You jump, having forgotten he was there. 

She turns and her eyes find you in an instant. You can’t help the blush you’re sporting, bowing your head and offering a polite curtsey. A smirk pulls at her mouth. 

The smirk drops as she addresses the other occupants in the room, “Leave us.” 

The soldiers offer bows and turn in sync, stomping out of the room. Her brother hesitates. His eyes flicker to her and then to you, giving you a long, serious look. Then he follows the soldiers. Your blush has vanished by the time he’s gone. 

“You kept me waiting.” She says, low voice covering the expanse—both physical and mental—between you. You’re relieved to see her shoulders relaxed, “You never keep me waiting.” 

You can sense the question in her statement, can practically hear her shouting what was more important than your Queen? But instead of raising her voice, she tilts her head, and waits. 

Lying has never been a skill in your arsenal. And with your Queen looking at you like she’d unwrap your flesh from your skeleton should you cross her, you’ve never had the guts to try. 

Skating the truth might work, you decide, “I was speaking with your brother, My Queen. He offered me a lesson on courtesy.” 

She huffs out a laugh. 

“I’d say that’s one skill you don’t need a lesson on.” 

You blush. Now that the danger of tripping her wrath has truly passed, you take slow movements to her, coming to stop at the bottom step leading to the room of fire. Her eyes are intrigued when they look down at you. 

“And what skills do I need a lesson on, My Queen?” You ask. 

She lifts an eyebrow. 

You’re quick to correct, “Ravenna.” 

Ravenna’s eyes slip closed like her name from your lips gives her power. There’s a split second of bliss there, like when you’ve finished your usual duties with her, but it feels more intimate this time. You look away. 

A blush pulls at your cheeks and you can’t fathom why; you’ve seen her in various positions and states of undress, heard things drip from her tongue that’d make any reasonable woman melt with shame. You’ve never had an issue being a witness before. You blame it on the heat radiating from the room behind her. 

Fingers tilt your head back to look her in the eye. Ravenna’s closer now, armor clad body nearly pressing to your own. A finger, adorned with a black talon, scrapes along your bottom lip. 

Her kiss is demanding and brutal when you’re locked in it, claiming every inch of you she can reach. You let out a whimper against her. Teeth find and tug at your lip, insisting on torturing you just within the bounds of what you can handle. You’re running out of air but can’t make yourself pull back. 

Ravenna’s taloned hand ghosts down your neck and makes you shiver. You feel her grin against your lips when she starts to move to your chest and you moan pathetically, pushing yourself into her embrace. She freezes before fully touching where you desire. 

You laugh against her, used to her teasing, but you open your eyes to shards of ice staring you down. 

Her eyes have landed just about where her hand is and you gaze downward, freezing. There, next to her hand, blood has seeped through the exquisite fabric. Some of it stains her fingertips. You feel lightheaded. 

“Take off your dress.” She commands, no longer Ravenna, but your Queen. 

“My Queen, I…”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” 

The control she had before is gone. When you step back to pull down the top of your dress, she stays rooted to the spot. Her eyes are sharp, deadly, and you know armies trembled beneath this gaze before but you’re not, whether it be stupidity or comfort. 

Pulling down your dress reveals the bloodstained handkerchief and you peel it off of your skin. The gash is angry, blood still seeping from it, though in smaller amounts this time. You don’t dare wipe it away. 

Ravenna steps to you and brings her own hand out to touch at the gash, hand shaking with barely contained rage. You try and fail to stop your wince. 

“They’ll pay in blood.” Ravenna forces through gritted teeth, “Tell me their name.” 

You go cold. Her brother has been her longest and fiercest companion, even uttering his name would assure her rage be directed at you. She’ll choose family everytime. You don’t want to die, not when there’s still so much time you haven’t shared with her. 

“I…” 

“A name!” Ravenna shouts. 

Shaking your head, you try to pull back, but her left hand clasps around your arm. You’re caught in an iron grip. 

“You’ll be furious with me.” You whisper, voice pleading. 

“We’re beyond fury,” Her voice trembles, “A name.” 

Wincing and looking at your feet, you accept your fate, “It was your brother.” 

Emotions from defeat to pure hatred flicker behind her eyes before she settles on one; betrayal. Her hold on you loosens and you step closer, reaffirming the contact. She doesn’t react to it. 

A vulnerability lingers in her muscles as she deflates, a lone tear tracking down her porcelain cheek. You ache to wipe it away. She’s staring past you, mind caught in something you can’t hope to understand. You remain an anchor to the physical world as you take her hand and bring the palm to your lips, your own tears falling onto the skin. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, not sure she can hear you, “I spoke out of turn and upset him. It was my fault.” 

Her hand tightens around your own. 

“He knows the limit.” 

Ravenna drags you to the door and your heart nearly beats out of your chest. She’s reached her limit with me, you think, as she throws open the doors with an ease that startles you. 

“Guards!” She shrieks and they come running.

You wait for the command that will sentence you; you wonder if she’ll do it herself or if she’ll just have you thrown onto the streets to rot with the people. Will she slit your throat or take your heart? 

Her hand ghosts over the gash and the lingering pain fades. Looking down curiously, you find the skin mended. 

“Take her to her rooms.” Ravenna commands the guards, “And bring me my brother.” 

Eyes widening, you examine her face, shock rendering you speechless. Her face remains the portrait of indifference as you’re led away. Disbelief floods you when you’re in your rooms, even as your ears hear the screams across the castle, and even as the whispers tell you he’s dead. 

You feel dread at being responsible, but can’t help the lingering affection. You were protected after all. 

[blue-lollipops-and-ice-clouds]

Interludes, courtesy the amazing, lovely, and newly-named jawsofeden.

Alt text included with images above and below read more.

TEETH OF GOD INTERLUDES

INTERLUDE 1: (FEMALE VOICE)

To me, it seems that there must be something on the other side.

We are all told that truth is merely a conclusion that can reliably be derived from some observable phenomenon.

We forget that truth is a tool; it is the hook upon which we hang our deeds and the bed from which we rise each day.

To assume that death is the end is to assume that our being extends no further than the physical substrate that carries us.

This assumption does not account for the way in which we experience being alive.

Nor does it sit comfortably aside the fact that we are not yet able to comprehend the way in which our being manifests itself from the flesh and bone that binds us.

I believe that those gaps in our understanding are still wide enough to cast doubt on such conclusions.

I believe that those gaps are yet wide enough for our souls to fit through...

And drift onwards into some new realm.

—

INTERLUDE 2: (MALE VOICE)

To argue the existence of anything beyond death is to reject the idea of death itself.

Death is not the opening of some eternal door.

Death does not confer transcendence of any kind.

To make such assertions is to act as though we do not know death.

As though we do not spend our lives trying to drag forth some semblance of meaning from beneath death's thick, dark shadow.

As though we have not also inflicted it, no less than we sometimes revel in it.

It is only the certainty of death that provides us with the darkness against which we all glow, defiantly.

Life without death knows no form, no boundary.

Without death and our finite nature, we will be stripped of all meaning.

Left to wander as little more than endlessly rotating gears in the quiet engine of a cold hell.

But we do not die because it gives our lives meaning.

We die because this is the way of all things.

And in the end, is that not all we are?

—

INTERLUDE 3: (FEMALE VOICE)

Death is not merely an event that occurs.

It is not simply some kind of existential threshold we all are fated to cross.

It is far more than these small notions.

One does not need to look as far as the end of their own life to be confronted with the unknowable.

One does not even need to look that far to be confronted with death.

Look around you; about what can you truly be certain?

Death is a colour; it soaks some part of every canvas.

Death is a fabric; it can clothe the living.

Death is merely another weapon wielded by the great adversary.

Another cadence in this terribly beautiful symphony we sing to, helplessly.

Let it bring you hope in one hand and fear in the other

It is asking you to dance with both, after all.

[tumblezwei]

God, all I want in Arcane season 2 is for Vi and Jinx to have one last final showdown where they both die metaphorically. Let them both live, but let them lose themselves in such a way that they can only say they died. For Jinx to ne so fundamentally changed from who she is that she disappears at the end to watch what happens from the shadows. For Vi to push herself so far into belonging in Piltover that she loses what made her herself from Zaun.

Only for both Jinx and Vi to be horrified with what they've become and knowing they can't go back.

Honestly, I think this has mostly already happened. The season 1 finale was that moment for Jinx, when she realized that with Vi siding with Cait and Silco dead at her hands, there's no one in her life that sees her for who she is. So she chooses to become exactly what Vi fears.

This is definitely something that's going to be expanded on in season 2, that being that nobody in this goddamn show knows what Jinx and Vi are about or what they want. The people of Zaun laud Jinx as a revolutionary figure that she absolutely isn't, the people of Piltover condemn her as a crazed lunatic that just wants destruction for the sake of it, Cait is absolutely not going to be a voice of reason or nuance after Jinx killed her mother.

And in the same vein everyone just makes their own assumptions about what Vi wants. Caitlyn is sure Vi is on her side about bringing Jinx in (I am fully convinced her line about "my sister is dead" is a complete lie to Cait), Jinx is sure that Vi has gone turncoat and just wants to get rid of her. And who knows what Ekko is going to think when he sees Vi in that uniform.

I can't say anything with any amount of certainty bc we've got like, barely two minutes of out of context footage to work with, but imo this season is going to be more about Jinx and Vi finally getting their feelings understood. Where in season 1 we gradually saw them separate as misunderstanding piled on top of misunderstanding, season 2 is about clearing those away.

Because as the show exists right now it just doesn't make sense for one side to "win" the conflict. And I have more trust in the writers than to expect them to finish the season with the status quo of League of Legends intact. Obviously, I don't expect them to do some radical reworking, especially with the whole "Arcane is canon to League" thing Riot wants to do, but it just doesn't make sense for this version of Vi and Jinx to end up like League Vi and Jinx.

And also bc I don't think that confrontation in the trailer is anywhere near the end lmao. That's episode three of the first act, at best. It's debatable if anything we saw goes past the first act at all.

[misty-caligula]

A short disclaimer about Lott’s mental state:

For those who do not think that Lottie is actually being visited by some kind of forest god, but is in fact mentally ill, I just want to be very very clear:

Being psychotic in its’ various forms, whether schizophrenic, bipolar, borderline or whatever, is NOT the same thing as being “a dangerous person”. Being delusional, having hallucinations, these things do not say anything at all about you as a person, about your moral compass, or your value as a human. Psychotic people are not more dangerous that people who aren’t, in fact people with significant mental illnesses are generally only a real danger to themselves, and are much less likely to hurt those around them than people who don’t. (Not to mention at far far greater risk of harm FROM others due to stigma)

Lottie’s losing her grip on what’s real, and that’s a difficult thing to go through, but her PERSONALITY is the same. She still wants to protect those around her, she’s still guided by what is, in the end, a feeling of responsibility and care. Whether or not her feelings are particularly appropriate is open to discussion, but all the women are flawed in their mindsets, and Lottie’s no different. But when it comes down to it, think of psychosis as similar to entering another dimension. The rules are different, the scenery changes, but YOU are the same, and you will still act in ways that seem rational and logical and consistent to you as the person who understands the new rules. It won’t make you evil, it won’t make you violent, it won’t make you a bad person, it’ll mostly just make you confused and scared.

What makes Lottie’s mental state dangerous is that she’s surrounded by people who do not understand what’s happening to her. In the teen timeline they think she’s in contact with the spirit of the forest, in the adult timeline they ... well... let’s put a pin in that and see how it pans out, because there’s options there and I don’t want to get lost in the weeds.

Point is, if Lottie was in the cabin and was having a psychotic experience and believed that something malevolent would hurt her friends, but they all recognised that she wasn’t seeing clearly, then she would try very hard to protect them and they would accomodate her. They’d probably try to make her comfortable, to assuage her fears, maybe they’d try to play along to help her. They’d probably feel sorry for her. Whether they’d be up to the task of helping her or not is... hard to say, but she wouldn’t be a danger to them.

But Lott’s mental state is being mistaken for some genuine spiritual connection to a god. And when people start doing what she says, following along and coming up with their own interpretations of her reality, adding their own assumptions, and then feeding it back to her, to get scrambled once again? That’s a recipe for disaster, because pretty soon NOBODY is thinking clearly, and all it takes is ONE angry person in the mix, one violent urge unchecked, one ... unexpected drug-fueled party... and you just do not know what people will do with that, there’s no telling where it can lead.

And we can see this happen in the woods, more often than not Lottie doesn’t really have a strong grasp on what she should do next. She’s kind of dropping in and out. Sometimes she’s the antler queen, leading by example, but other times she’s confused and scared and out of her depth, just going with the flow. But those around her are building a better structure with the materials she’s providing them, and often they’re stepping up to act with certainty (think Mari insisting the she can get food without a gun, Travis grabbing the skull off the wall without a moment’s hesitation) and this is reinforcing to her and to them that she’s right, and that they’re justified in their actions because she’s right. It’s a feedback loop based on absolutely nothing that’s started to overwhelm them.

But again, Lott having delusions and hallucinations is NOT inherently dangerous or bad or anything of the sort. It simply is the way that millions of people IRL live. And I feel it absolutely needs to be explicitly talked about before people start throwing around judgements and assumptions about her - and the many real people she’s representing - based on bias and misunderstanding and stigmatism.

[heretherebedork]

The deep, desperate trauma in Uea, that fear of the dark, the certainty that his attraction to men makes him a bad person, the way he clings to King for a desperate moment and the way King watches him afterwards and the way Uea has carried the darkness of that bathroom in his heart and his mother's screams and assumptions in his heart for his entire life and cannot escape the words that trapped him there, cannot see a way out of the darkness because the light is never bright enough.

King might not know the darkness but he sees more of Uea than Uea sees of him.

Because King is the kind of person that Uea fears the most... friendly and bright and open and without that darkness, the kind of person who sees darkness and shines a brighter light there as well. King has brilliance and laughter and light on his side in a way Uea doesn't have

King flirts naturally and smiles brighter and laughs without reservation and isn't shy about what he wants and his comfort is something unfamiliar to Uea.

(That they're both queer, that they're both queer in different ways, one bright and joyful and the other barely clinging to his own acceptance of his own sexuality, one in black to cover his blue and one in white to cover his red, one hiding behind a wall of brightness but dressed in dark and the other hiding passion and darkness behind a blank, bright slate.)

[paragonrobits]

Responsibility

Gary's fingers worked together, a rush of nervous energy moving through him. He twitched; not all at once. His arm jiggled and then his legs, as if the bones of his legs suddenly weren't reliable and it was an effort to stand upright. And then his jaw trembled, so violently that when he spoke, he couldn't be understood.

Buttler glanced at him for a moment. There was, perhaps, an expression of something like pity, Fionna considered. Probably not too much like it. Fionna still wasn't entirely sure what were memories of the magical days, and what were just dreams inspired by free-floating.. bits from the multiverse. Something like that might happen, she'd been told by Prismo in her dreams. If it was him, of course. It could be something else entirely using his voice and image, or it might be her own assumptions using him as a mirror.

("No the hell it's not!" Prismo said, watching the events in his cube, above all the other universes. "That WAS me! Listen, lady!" The Scarab was silently, but quietly mused on giving mortals more clear instruction if you were going to bother giving them advice.)

Then Buttler glanced aside, to the other person in the room. To date, Fionna never felt comfortable being anywhere near Hana Abadeer. She wasn't entirely sure why. She glanced at Miss Abadeer, who was watching it with a look of quiet smugness. She'd wanted this to happen, or she'd planned it. She didn't keep looking at a nearby door that was very slightly ajar, bent halfway outwards by a particularly vicious impact to break through it.

Gary kept looking at it. Fear, indignation, anxiety and most of all concern kept flitting across his face. Anxiety was winning out. Fionna was surprised, but then supposed she shouldn't be. It was hard looking at Gary, so scared and helpless; she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Fionna's fists clinched and unclenched, and she felt uncomfortably aware that the only thing she had to offer was not going to help in the slightest.

Punching Miss Abadeer? Shit, shit, no. If she did that... if she even thought about it...

Fionna looked at the door and thought, 'Then we'd be more fucked than we already are.'

Abadeer looked directly at Fionna. The corner of her mouth turned up in a quietly triumphantly way. And Fionna couldn't shake what Simon had told her during their travels. She remembered in a lull between worlds, Simon had told her something about his adoptive daughter, Marceline... his Marshall Lee. No, it wasn't about Marceline specifically. Though afterwards, when Fionna started to notice a few gentle changes happening one after the other, she kept checking on Marshall every day, checking to see if he was... okay. If nothing was happening to him. Or if he was changing into something he didn't want to be.

Marceline's father, the Ooo version of Hana Abadeer, wasn't... something human. He was something else. He wasn't a vampire, or a wizard, or anything like what they'd seen. He was something older than the Vampire King, and far worse. He wasn't even like the Lich; for all its unspeakable evil, the incidental malice, the will to kill everything that existed just because it was a role to play... the Lich was still understandable. Mister Petrikov's face had been strangely bored as he offhandedly had remarked about dragging Abadeer to his world to make him take care of his daughter for once, and perhaps Fionna, she thought, should have noticed the steel in him before that point.

But he had spoken about how Abadeer wasn't anything as understandable as anything they'd encountered. He simply... was. 'Demon' was just a word, Simon Petrikov had said, and it wasn't exactly sufficient. But it was close enough.

Hana Abadeer wasn't a demon. At least, Fionna thought she wouldn't. And maybe she just hoped she wasn't. But in that moment, Fionna saw Abadeer smirking at her, and Fionna suddenly knew, with absolute certainty and a cold set of pin-pricks in her brain, that Abadeer knew exactly what she was thinking, and was looking right into her head.

Abadeer said nothing. She didn't need to.

Gary tried to get his way through what was obviously a rehearsed story. In front of Fionna, though, with the looming presence of Abadeer and the horrified shock of Buttler, it just withered away.

His gaze dropped to his feet. His whole body trembled. With fear, or anger, Fionna couldn't be sure. But she did notice Abadeer's face twitch briefly, as if taken aback by something. It was only a brief moment, and then her face collected itself, back to the mask of haughty contempt. But it was a flicker.

Ah. She remembered a candy woman, so very much like Gary when you looked at the way they moved, the way they spoke, a certain... operatic-ness to the way they said some things, or got dramatic when they thought they needed to play a part. Sweet as candy, and then, when things got tough, cold as steel. Perhaps Gary wasn't so different from either a woman that came out of brainwashing with barely a blink, or who could watch all her friends die and continue on the mission regardless.

Gary finally managed to speak. "I'm not destroying them," he said, flatly.

Abadeer raised an eyebrow. "So now you grow a spine?"

Buttler glanced from Abadeer to Gary; indignation on behalf the former, but she had her own share of anxiety for Gary now and Fionna got the impression that Buttler didn't understand why, exactly. Fionna had her suspicions. Buttler probably cared for Gary in some distant way, like a master who considered an apprentice slow on the uptake but still important to her. And what they had found in that room had shaken Buttler, badly.

Fionna thought about echoes. Hunter spending all his time in the forest, maybe some part of his soul remembering being one with the beasts, one with the beating and distant heart of the world. Or Ellis staring up at the sky with his eyes squinting, looking lost, as if a part of him remembered living up there. And she thought about Simon Petrikov struggling to explain to her how it had been to be Ice King, to still love Marceline even if he didn't know who she was or who he was; the data was gone. The feeling remained.

It probably wasn't that much different. The world had changed, but they didn't. Their memories changed, but some part of them knew. And Buttler was scared of what Gary had done in that room.

She kept looking at her hands. As if trying to reassure herself about her flesh and bone.

Gary finally spoke up. His voice was hard and flat, but his face looked lost. Over the smell of thick sugars, over a strangely chemical smell and an acrid stink that made Fionna think of electricity, he softly said, "I'm creating life."

Buttler's face twitched. She glanced at Hana, and with a twinge of guilt that clearly confused her, she said, "You are not making life, young man."

Abadeer took the moment to interject. "You are making a walking pile of sugar in the shape of a man." As she said this, the door gently opened.

Something walked out. It wasn't particularly ominous, or even unsettling; it simply shuffled out in an unsteady gait that looked wrong. The legs swung out and in too loosely, too easily. A too-thin body wavered unsteadily, a vaguely humanoid shape trying to keep its balance as it shuffled its way over to Gary.

Fionna had been in that room. She had seen sugar, and gingerbread, and a lot of chemicals and strange equipment cannibalized from other machines, in Gary's strange fit of ingenious obsession. A car battery, some kind of amusement park ride converted into a sort of sarcophagus, a protein soup dissolved from a lot of bargain ham, and other stuff she couldn't list off the top of her head.

A meaty smell came off the.. construct, Fionna supposed. It's body was sugar, but it wasn't sugar; parts of it gleamed like caramel and other parts were stiff, and made her think of gingerbread. But it wasn't exactly any of those things; parts of it looked like a carapace or exoskeleton, especially around the limbs and back. Around the front and the arms, there was something like exposed musculature. It didn't seem to make the creature uncomfortably, though.

It didn't have much of a face; there was a sort of hump at the top of its body, poking forward, and a suggestion of deep set eyes and a wide mouth, all crude and, unfinished.

Gary didn't seem to mind. He absently reached out for it.

It was having a hard time walking. Nonetheless, in fits and starts, it made its way over to Gary, gingerly reaching a hand out.

Abadeer opened her mouth. Her expression, still haughty, attained a slight indication of contempt. Fionna suddenly saw a future of Abadeer saying something like, 'Go do an Old Yeller and take that thing about back and destroy it.'

The creature gently, desperately, put its thick fingers around Gary's wrist and held on tight.

And just like that, all the fear suddenly went out of Gary's face. It was a little scary, actually. His expression smoothed out into calm certainty, and he glanced around the room. Just once. On the table next to him, there was a rolling pin, a special kind with big metal bumps to create a specific texture in dough.

It was a very sturdy rolling pin. Gary wasn't particularly strong, but you didn't have to be strong to seriously hurt someone with something like that.

Abadeer glanced at him, just once. For a moment her haughty expression flickered just a bit. It was interested, almost hungry. Her mouth almost became a huge grin, and somehow that was so much worse than her getting angry might have done.

"Gary?" Fionna said, uncertainly. "Come on, dude. We're done here. Just take your little guy and go. Okay?"

Gary stared at her. He glanced briefly at Abadeer, almost interrogatingly. And again, Fionna found herself a little fascinated; he'd been scared, so nervous he couldn't even talk right.

But threaten the... person he'd made, and he turned to cold stone almost immediately.

That was responsibility for you, she thought later.

Abadeer gave a very small gesture with one shoulder, and Buttler looked away from her. The tableau seemed to say 'do what you want'.

"Don't come back," Buttler said sternly to Gary, but she winced saying it. Like an aged caretaker sending a child away, and not understanding why it hurt.

Gary glanced at her, and for a moment his face twisted up. It might have been holding back tears, or a remark laced with so much bile it could have scorched marble, or nothing at all.

He turned his back to her, firmly gripped the hand of his creation, and waited for Fionna to be at his side and watching his back before the three of them simply left.

Abadeer watched them go. Her eyes, conspicuously, did not change at all, in the same way that a master card shark did not show his hand.

----

For Gary, and for Fionna, there was a lot to discuss later.

But in the moment, Fionna couldn't think of anything to say, except the obvious.

"I don't know where we can keep your little guy, but I'll do whatever I can. Look out for him, maybe?" She said.

In the back of Marshall's van, Gary sat with the creature on the floor, and he looked contented as it slept. It looked sort of like a dragon, Fionna thought. A strange and silly-looking dragon, but a dragon all the same.

He breathed in, and out. He just nodded, and slowly turned his head towards Fionna. "Uh. Thanks for sticking up for me, Fi."

"No prob, Gary. Any time."

They both felt the weight of bygone years. Of a time neither of them remembered, but that stayed in their hearts.

There was a long pause.

Marshall broke it. He hadn't said a lot, but when the road didn't demand his attention, he kept glancing at the little homunculus Gary had made. Curiosity, mostly, and genuine fascination. In some way, it helped Fionna breath a little bit easily.

Okay, then. Their weird little family had a new member. She could roll with that.

"Does the little dude have a name?" Marshall asked, focusing on the road again.

The little miracle made a soft bubbling noise, and wrestled open a bottle of syrup Gary had delicately passed over into its crude fingers. Gary was quiet for a moment. "I don't know," he said softly. "All the other characters I thought of... I don't know if any of them fit."

Fionna didn't exactly remember stuff. She certainly didn't remember things another version of herself had known. But all the same, she had traveled across the multiverse, and something like that changes someone. You gaze into the infinite, and a bit of it stays with you. You see the inevitable clicking into place, and glimpse a shadow cast by the people you knew; in some other life, in some other circumstance.

She looked at Gary, so protective over this little creature scared of everything that wasn't Gary (and, it seemed, Fionna and Marshall), and inspiration struck.

"How's Beddy sound?" she asked.

[aressida]

Old entry: "If you are unwilling to QUESTION your beliefs, how will you know that if you are following the truth or lies?" - Aressida. 9.4.19.

This one question: “What do I know for certain?”

That is tremendously powerful. When you look deeply into this question, it actually destroys your world. It destroys your whole sense of self, and it is absolutely meant to be. You will not even try, very likely unless you move forward; you will be lacking the sense of certainty that allows you to tap the deepest capacity that is within you.

Here is the rule: Do not ever be ashamed of something you like or believe in. Write about what you believe, above all else.

Change is inevitable. No matter how personal and spiritual evolution yours is, it will always be seen as a betrayal by those who value you. There is nothing more spiritual than being free. Look into yourself and examine your reactions to persons and situations, and you will be appalled to discover that the prejudiced thinking is behind your reactions.

Here is some amazing quotes:

1) “So the universe is not quite as you thought it was. You’d better rearrange your beliefs, then. Because you certainly can’t rearrange the universe.” – Isaac Asimov.

2) “The authentic self will never lead you to believe that you have anything to defend, prove, or be puffed up about because your true identity is not determined by what your ego or the world has to say about you” – Dennis Merritt Jones. 3) “I went deep inside myself. I had time to explore my beliefs and because of that I’m stronger.” – Bob Marley.

That is all I want in life: for this pain to seem purposeful.

Freethinkers are those who are willing to use their minds without prejudice and without fearing to understand things that clash with their own customs, privileges, or beliefs.

Why do I have to defend myself, my beliefs, and my morality?

If you raise your standards but do not really believe you can meet them, you have already sabotaged yourself…

Why “Truth” is a secondary consideration to everyone else? I mean this is the very reason we get into arguments.

I am doing the best that I can for my family and friends.  I am going to keep working hard and one day our situations will improve. Truth always withstands scrutiny. Always question everything and please do your research properly.

Your beliefs create your reality. Changing your reality is both simple and easy – Follow some new beliefs. Seriously limiting yourself that will not help at all. It helps to acknowledge the limits of your capabilities.

A life that you make it is easy to forget that. Remember everything you think you know about the world, is based on assumptions, beliefs, and opinions. You are the way you are because that is what you believe about yourself.

This shape every action, every thought and every feeling that we experience. As a result, changing our belief systems is central to making any real and lasting change in our lives.

To have a state of openness and trust is Faith. The attitude of Faith is to let go and become open to the truth, whatever it might turn out to be.

Hey take a think about this one – Six months from now, you can be in a completely different space, mentally, spiritually and financially by simply to keep on working and believe in yourself.

The most direct thing that I can say to you is to not believe your mind. And you will need to learn to shift your focus from the mind to the Heart, which means affectionate awareness and stillness.

“If your beliefs are telling you, “I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m old. I’m a loser. I’m not good enough. I’m not strong enough. I’ll never make it,” then don’t believe yourself, because it’s not true. These messages are distorted. They’re nothing but lies. Once you can see the lies, you don’t have to believe them. Use the power of doubt to challenge every message that you deliver to yourself. “Is it really true that I’m ugly? Is it really true that I’m not good enough?” Is this message real, or is it virtual? Of course, it’s virtual. None of these messages come from the truth, from life; they come from distortions in our knowledge. The truth is, there are no ugly people. There is no good enough or strong enough. There’s no universal book of law where any of these judgments are true. These judgments are just agreements that humans make.” – don Miguel Ruiz and don Jose Ruiz, The Fifth Agreement.

Your mind may not like you doing this at first but with some time and patience, and more than a little love, your mind’s reactions to the old beliefs crumbling will become less and less troubling. It is your goal to justify your beliefs in a rational and meaningful way.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Home Alone

Prompts: Bedtime stories. A flicker of light. Sapphire.

Group: A

-

The Intruder

Rumpelstiltskin was bored. One of the caveats of being the Dark One was becoming entangled in the lowly petty affairs of autocrats. It was tiresome making deals with men who believed that his magic would conquer all their fears and trouble. It always ended the same, with them repeating the same mistakes in ever shifting alliances and promises that dissolved over the passage of time.

As the Lords continued to debate in hollow chatter, Rumpelstiltskin’s mind narrowed down to one tantalizing thought…Belle.

She had run desperately from the world she had known into the refuge of his arms. Even though he and his beauty were as different as blood and water, they found an undeniable love that trumped any lingering doubts of duty and guilt.

She was raised on bedtime stories of handsome heroes and noble knights, and yet her heart’s desire was for him. She had tasted the unknown and willingly let him be her guide into his world of darkness.

And she in return planted tiny seeds of light and hope in his twisted jagged life, nourished by every touch, every smile, every word she bestowed upon him, until his heart opened like an awakening rose, unveiling itself completely and freely to her.

It was during a moonlit encounter with their mouths melted together, that he declared his love, and she, smiling and breathless, surrendered herself completely.

 Defying every assumption and expectation she willingly fled with him content to live her days by his side at the dark castle.

He felt a profound sense of rediscovery as their forbidden encounters were no longer rushed secrets. They spent their days whispering truths and desires and their nights in rooms long forgotten, exploring each other. Her kisses left him dizzier than any drink, and he knew with absolute certainty that he needed her more than his next breath.

It both thrilled and terrified him the depths of his feelings for her. There was a sincerity in her touch, which roused his soul to fight the darkness that rushed through his veins like a river. He could not help but wonder if true love’s kiss lurked on the outskirts in wait, or if his own dark primal instincts kept it at bay.

Breaking the curse seemed like a dream but also a nightmare. Her love would shape his future and he wondered if she knew the power a kiss could wield over centuries old darkness.

Every separation from her was unbearable, and he contemplated abandoning the deal, so he could savor the sweet taste of her mouth by sunset. He could already imagine her sighs in his ear, and the feel of her pulsing body against his as her hands grasped the bed sheets.

His body throbbed for her, and he cursed himself for his greedy dealmaking. If only he had made the deal more ordinary, easier, and quicker for the lords’ intelligence to analyze.

His burning desire was quickly extinguished, as magic penetrated his skin with screams of warning that the castle’s protection barrier had been breached. Panic gripped his heart as he vanished in an instant.

X

Even in the daylight the monster’s castle was gloomy with shadows concealing the world from the horrors within. The air was different too, carrying with it faint traces of decay and desperation. Gaston pushed forward with an unwavering ruthless determination to exact his vengeance upon them.

Belle had been a sparkling jewel promised to him. Although he had other trinkets he admired and played with, she was his sapphire, the perfect adornment of beauty and status. But now she was chipped and fractured. Every crystalized grain of her existence was tarnished by a monster’s touch, and no amount of shine or polish would bring back her former brilliance. She was worthless to him now.

 As the wind rattled the skeletal branches of the trees, where even birds refused to nest, the hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.

As a skilled hunter, he knew when a predator was near, readying to strike. He sensed movement beyond his vision right before a thick tangle of branches snared around his body. He furiously struggled to break free but with every movement, the branches squeezed tighter into his skin.

His wide eyes focused solely on the beast that approached with unnatural precision and tidiness. A raging fire of hate burned his blood, at the sight of the Dark One. He marveled how magnificent the creature would look dead and stuffed on his wall.

He stopped struggling, taking in the sharp angles of the beast’s face. He wondered how Belle could have ever chosen such ugliness over him. Whether she was bewitched or disturbed he did not know but her irrational feminine whim that caused him so much humiliation was the last mistake she was ever going to make.

 He shouted at the beast, his words dripping in cruelty and disdain. He mocked the grotesque figure before him, labeling the beast a coward for hiding behind magic.

The crushing pressure of the branches on his limbs dissolved into nothing, as Gaston’s face slammed hard against the forest floor. He felt a divine strength roaring back into his muscles as his freed body became its own again.

The creature had to be mad if he thought he could ever beat him in a true fight of might and strength.

“Leave,” the beast commanded. “It is your only warning. Turn around and forget this place. She has made her choice. She is here of her own free will.”

Gaston’s pride quivered with revulsion at the words.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not taking her far…only six feet under.”

The moment the threat left his tongue, an unbearable black gravity dragged and twisted his body to its knees. Years of training and combat were rendered useless in mere seconds as the dark magic strangled all his resistance.

The beast lunged for him, its talons cutting into his flesh ripping it away like strings of meat.

 Gasping in agony and drowning in fear, Gaston wondered if this was what all prey felt in the end.

X

Rumpelstiltskin backs away as the body goes limp like a broken marionette. His mind struggles for control against the black cold fury storming under his skin. His first rational thought is of her. A tendril of his magic searches the castle, relieved to find her safely tucked away in the library, blissfully unaware of the carnage outside.

He feels an unspeakable shame, not for killing the man who threatened her life, but for still being a monster.

He wants to flee, pretend he is still closing the deal, and return to her without this heavy failure shadowing over him, but the hungry corners of his heart need her, and he returns to the castle.

She joyfully runs to him but stops just short of his arms. Her concerned eyes hold the power to reveal his soul’s darkest secrets, as he falls to his knees sobbing a confession of his monstrous sins.

Her words of love still reach out to him, remind him of the man he wants to be, and rescues his soul with a devotion that grasps him tight and secure.

Even as he remains before her with blood on his claws, she still sees the beauty within him. His undying love for her constricts tighter around his heart. He wants to be the man she deserves. With a love so pure he sees a flicker of light guiding him down a corridor to change and redemption.

 That night, as their hearts brush together in heat and passion, true love tenderly weaves into the depths of a kiss, bringing forth a new beginning.

-

[drowning-in-cacophony]

Dive

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 206: Sink or Swim

Summary: a girl prepares to dive

She sits on the edge of the cliff, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms loosely encircling. Below her the water roars, white rapids against harsh stone, and it’ll be freezing down there. Especially with this breeze that plays with the split ends of her hair, tossing them this way and that way.

Her body, in the waves, would be as powerless. The rocks would be a harder target than her shoulders.

“You’re assuming it’ll be a failure,” the architect says from behind her. She doesn’t turn to look, already knowing what she’ll see. Them, standing so tall and impenetrable behind her. Unmoveable by breeze or waves or even words. Nothing shifts them; she’d not be surprised if they outlasted the very cliffs they stand on, held up for millennia already.

“You were chosen for a reason,” they say, the same tone. Slightly disapproving, like she’s a kid refusing to wipe her face or something. But always so distant, with emotions and tones addressed through five feet deep glass, so it’s only the slight impression crashing down into her shoulders. The distance makes it worse, even if it mutes those more negative words. Emotions are meant to be vivid for a reason. How can she trust in their judgement when she doesn’t even know how they actually sound when they feel?

“This refusal to do your task is juvenile,” they say once more. “Fear is a logical companion, but we have taught you well enough to push that to one side. Think of the bigger picture.”

It’s always the bigger picture with the architect. They’ll tweak and focus in on those small pieces, like her and her dive, and they’ll put all their attention into it, but the bigger picture’s always there. The constant companion, the ever-reliable reminder. The bigger picture; it’s selfish not to prioritise how everything looks, stupid to allow a small feeling to ruin the overall look. There’s too much of the plan in their head, she thinks, and that’s why they can never truly stop lecturing about it. They see how it will all go, once all the small pieces do as asked, seeing that finished product of a mansion so well that they forget what it’s like being stuck in just one of the rooms and that being all you see.

The breeze lashes a end across her cheek. It bites as badly as the water will.

They get no response and yet don’t even check to see if she’s listening. She could not be – she could be caught in her own thoughts, her own dread and heaviness, because there isn’t a path that leads her away from this clifftop. There was never going to be a way back, only a way forward to whatever end. It’s not even an assumption that she will listen; they speak with the knowledge that no-one can quite resist listening. It’s like hypnotism, but it’s all voluntary, a warped version of ultimate trust.

She, all the others, trusts them. And the architect sends them off edges into possible doom, and she and all of the others will always listen and obey regardless.

She climbs up to her feet, slowly enough that it could be considered taking the piss, or slow enough that she’s savouring the last certainty. Once she dives-

It’ll be one of two ways. The thing the architect wants, the outcome she wants because it’s the one that ends with her still breathing and still fighting, and she’ll be stepping out of this room of the plan and out into the ballroom, ready to dance with bigger sections. Or it’ll be the other thing, where she smashes against rocks and pulls underwater and fails, messily and painfully. Horribly, while the architect watches with mild disappointment, always so distant.

That’ll be the worst thing. Seeing the world disappear as the water clouds her vision, just like the glass pane they must see the world from.

“Come now, no more delay.”

She still doesn’t look over her shoulder at them, even as she approaches the very lip of the cliff. Her boots disturb a few small stones, plummeting down to the punishing water. Her fingers curl towards her palms, nails biting.

The sky’s a dull grey. The architect’s distance for her eyes to suffer even with her back turned. She shouldn’t look towards the water, if only because it’ll make her heart jump to her throat, but she does anyway if only for something that feels. And there, the crowded blues mixes with daring whites, the way the current swirls so violently and the grey splattered rocks sit so sharp and waiting. Vibrant and unavoidable. Full force, full volume.

The wind buffets around her knees, and then she steps off the cliff-

-and into the pod. Electronic sounds spark, too loud in her ears and their lights too bright for her eyes. She blinks them open anyway, coughs on water that doesn’t exist in her lungs, and stares through the glass panel that’s over her face, over her whole body. There’s readouts on the other side that she can’t read, doctors bustling around somewhere outside this pod, the bigger picture unrolling even more-

And she’s facing that grey sky again, in its purest form. The architect’s eyes peer down at her, double glass with theirs and the sheet over hers.

“Good work,” they say, voice even quieter with the physical boundary. Words much more pleasant than disapproval, but that’s the thing. If distance mutes, everything’s caught. Positive sounds end up like useless sludge between her fingers. Useless.

She coughs again, tasting salt deep in her throat.

She says the thing expected of her. “What’s next, then?”

[amplifyme]

@randomfoggytiger

Let's dive into The Rest Is Silence.

Vincent losing command over himself and running his body to the limit and sweating and tearing himself apart trying to contain the Other was fantastic to watch.

I know I keep repeating myself, but Perlman was so good in these eps and the ones that follow. He really hit his stride. And not just him, the whole cast nailed it in S3.

Waking in the park, getting around Mary (who cannot read subtext for the life of her) to get to Father and his comfort and guidance, and pouring at his desperation and fear was an excellent way to start.

In defense of Mary, she assumed she was talking to the Vincent she'd always known. I think the assumption most of those Below had was that the danger Paracelsus posed was gone and now things would go back to normal. Vincent would go back to being the Vincent they knew. I think Father was the only one with a clue that all was not well. Especially when V told him he'd woken up in the park and had no idea how he'd gotten there. The symptoms V was experiencing echoed those of the illness he'd suffered before.

As an aside, the expression on V's face when F asserts that there's nothing terrible in him kills me! That's a "WTF are you taking about??" face. It was a rather odd thing for F to say, though I chalk it up to more of avoiding the uncomfortable realities, as was the norm for them.

Seeing the world through Vincent's eyes as he worsens was also fantastic;

And just the way he looked! He was barely holding himself together. When he goes to join C for the concert he's visibly disheveled, which is so not normal for him. And that howl that escapes him and how freaked out he is that C saw him that way and was frightened.

I love how he progressively loses himself more and more as the ep goes on. His appearance changes, his speech patterns change - he struggles to speak at all - he has this constant crazed/dazed look in his eyes. He's trying so hard to be what C and his family have come to expect from him and he just can't do it anymore. I've always found it interesting that after he's found the book with the lines he was looking for, he immediately heads for C's, not having a clue that she's still Below and in F's study. Which is something he should know, what with the bond. He always knows exactly where she is. Not anymore.

Cathy did excellently herself this episode, asking him what she can do rather than pressing for impossible details, demanding more thorough answers from Father the right way, and keeping by Vincent's side when he broke into her apartment

She really stepped up this time and I love her for it. ❤️

but it kept getting better and better during his fever and "hallucinations" and the Other's hovering (now I know visually what Nan meant when she captured Buster's hovering and insistence) and Cathy's help and his progression to the bed and his waking better to watch the sun go down.

Just small things, but the way his upper lip curls into a snarl when he spots Buster; the way he struggles to stay conscious just long enough to say to C "You knew those lines."; the way the final scene in her apartment was lit and how small and beaten down he appears staring out at the sunset; his heartbreaking "I'm sorry."

Excuse me, I think I have something in my eye. 🥹

I almost didn't notice how important Vincent's "love" was until BWBS (so thank you, Nan, for bringing that more thoroughly to my attention); but I did notice how he didn't directly agree to Cathy's request.

Yeah, that's the first time he tells her he loves her, even though she's said it to him many times. He's convinced he's going to lose this battle and wants her to know with certainty that he does love her. And, yes, he expertly sidesteps directly agreeing with Cathy's ask.

Samantha and her book

Again with the tears. Vincent loves all the children so much.

collapsing into Father's arms and sending him off, saying goodbye to everyone and leaving before he and Cathy return (what a moving scene-- they all love him in their own ways), and fleeing below the catacombs to potentially die in the attempt to master or free himself (a literal descent into darkness) was the cherry on top. Mouse following Vincent anyway made me want to cheer; and Pascal keeping up with him on the pipes made me want to cheer even more.

Yes to all of this!

Father staying back while Cathy insists on descending, too, sets up that puzzling little dichotomy: I believe Father loves Vincent more "completely" as he acknowledges all aspects of his son; but I believe Cathy loves Vincent more deeply?

Hmm, I've never thought of it that way. I'll have to chew on this for awhile. I think you might be onto something.

Beauty's love killing and then rescuing the Beast make a full circle here

Exactly!

On a separate note: I'm not in the habit of making everything about The X-Files, but I can see why a fan fresh off BATB would be drawn to this other show. Mulder and Scully had that near-instant connection between them that transcended words, social norms and expectations, and both of their fixed perspectives or parameters.

Oh, I don't think you're wrong. That's one of the reasons I loved TXF and M & S right off the bat. It did a really nice job of filling some of the void from the loss of BATB. At least it did for me.

But I think Mulder and Scully succeeded where Vincent and Cathy failed because they disproved, together, Father's assessment which Peter quoted to Cathy: "Maybe Jacob was right: when you go beyond definitions, scientific knowledge can only break down." The breakdown, or the hitch, was in the lack of complete acceptance.

Nicely put!

Next up: Beyond Words, Beyond Silence and a few random thoughts.

[thebleedingeffect]

i support rewriting hyrule warriors a whole lot!! cia's main goal being for a man makes me upset tbh. she couldve been unhinged and liked link on the side!!! not it being her entire personality!!!! agh!!!!

This ask was like a code that activated the sleeper agent in my brain and now I need to pause absolutely everything and talk about Cia because I fucking adore her so damn much. I 100% agree btw that liking link shouldn't have been her entire personality BUT I do think that her infatuation with link could've illuminated more deeper, darker parts of her born from abandonment, desperation, and pure, unfiltered anger towards the fates and goddesses. In my mind, I've always believed that so much of Cia's pain, resentment, and destructive nature was actually born from intense isolation, abandonment, and pure loneliness. Cia was the guardian of time and overseer of the triforce, and personally, I like to believe that she was the one watching over the triforce inbetween incarnations.

But here's the thing, she was always completely alone in this monumental task that was hers and hers alone to bare. There was no one for her to talk to, to share this burden with, or even simply breathe the same air as her. She was completely and utterly alone. Not only that, but she was robbed of any sort of autonomy and life that she might've had in this fate that was destined for her to endure for all time. Personally, I really like to imagine that Hylia was the one who chose her for this role, which is a whole other layer of pain that makes Cia's character all the more raw. I also really like to think that once, perhaps Cia DID have that loyalty and adoration for all of the goddesses, but it was the loss of that love that made her hatred so vicious.

My idea of Cia is one who was abandoned by the golden goddesses from the beginning and only ever had Hylia by her side, at least at the beginning. Cia is ruled by her need for companionship, for someone to care, protect, and make her a priority, her rightful anger at the world for being abandoned with so much responsibility, and want for something more. Consider the fact that Hylia had chosen her, only to abandon her and rip out a part of herself to wander the world that she could never touch. Imagine how Cia would feel if she could do nothing but watch as a mere shadow of Hylia, the goddess that promised her she's stay, walked the earth and was loved. Loved by her people, her kingdom, the land itself- her knight.

Cia is made up of so many intricacies' and fear and desperation- but more than anything, I truly do think her obsession with the heroes spirit exposes a far deeper, even human part of her. Now, I do not think Cia was immediately all over any of the link's at the beginning, instead, I think Cia saw a shadow of herself in the heroes spirit and that was the first thing that drew her to them. To Cia, all of the heroes share the same infallible certainty of doomed fate as her and for that? She felt a kinship with them before obsession even dawned over her. All of their hardships was expected to be suffered silently, without question, and without the slightest whisper of complaint. She saw how utterly alone they were in their travels. She saw how alone she was in her fate. Before her is a twisted mirror, a mirror where she sees nothing but her own trapped, suffering reflection, a reflection that she so wishes to free.

As I said earlier, Cia is made up of contradictions and assumptions built in her mind from decades upon decades of isolation and desperation. What lengths of companionship, of understanding, of a kind hand... when you've been alone for so long? At first, I think Cia is more depressed than anything, at least until she starts to realize just how unfair- how cruel- her fate is. How dare Hylia make such a promise to her, only to leave her behind? How dare the world demand so much of her and not even give her the slightest glance or acknowledgement? How dare the world demand her everlasting forgiveness and gaze when it cannot even afford to gift her a kind hand? It's from this that Cia's anger is born and that if the world will not give her what she so desperately wants, she'll simply take it for herself.

What if she had a body for herself. What if the land underneath her feet was hers. What if she was no longer a quiet, powerless thing. What if... she could find someone who understood her. What if she was able to find someone who could share her pain. What if she could have everything she ever wanted and more. Maybe if she did that, it would heal those countless years of loneliness.

And going back to the heroes spirit for a moment- or the links- I think the reason her whole obsession with link starts is because he loves and protects so fiercely. They're dedicated enough to fight back against the darkness of the cycle each and every time and emerge victorious. The hero is the one who sacrifices everything, who bleeds, who fights. The hero is ruled by duty, love, and loyalty. In a way, link represents everything that she ever wanted and wanted to be, and it's once her depression, fury, and the want for more start to merge- that's when her obsession starts to manifest.

I truly do agree btw that Cia SHOULD'VE been more than just her obsession for link!! She has so much damn potential and I think that her thing for link should've been just one of many threads holding her fucked up mentality together! She had the potential to be such a tragic, fucked up villain of the fucking AGES !!!! I wish she got so much worse and dragged the world down into fucking ashes before the goddesses. I wish she was nasty towards zelda and had a whole thing with her because she couldn't look at her and not see the goddess who abandoned her for infinity. I wish she looked upon hyrule and saw a land not even worthy to exist, and if it had to? Then it had to be hers. I wish she truly dragged link through the coals. I wish we had a Cia who wanted the world to suffer because she had intertwined herself with her own pain and need for vengeance that it there was no turning back for her. I wish we saw more of the kind of Cia who was willing to do anything to win.

Can you tell that I love her. Cause I love her a lot.

[calebyap]

Some words for 2024

As we enter into a new year, some approach the year with a sense of foreboding and fear, others with a sense of opportunity and excitement. Still others look at the days to come with a certain coolness of spirit - a disinterest and detachment - that is neither excited nor anxious, because we cannot tell what tomorrow will bring. Truly as James 4 reminds us, we are merely a mist, and we should neither say with certitude that we know what tomorrow will bring, for only He that is eternal, unchanging and enduring can speak of tomorrow with certainty. Still, at risk of presumption, 2024 looks like it will be characterised by at least five things:

First, a measure of fine flour will be sold for a shekel - the turbulence of geopolitics, decoupling and inflation. For most of the last semisesquicentennial after the great World Wars, the world has remained in relative peace with an integrated global order characterised by American dominance and the flourishing of liberal democracy, global trade and interdependence and the unfettered flow of goods and services the world over. Today, that world order has been severely disrupted most significantly as China rises, stumbling, to take its place as a major geopolitical, economic and military power competing strategically with the United States. This competition has spilled over into multiple domains - from trade, capital, proxy states, theatres of conflict, naval access, military technology and sponsorship to digital applications and semiconductor chip manufacturing. So intense has the competition become that markets have begun to “decouple” as the world splits into two playgrounds each with its own Big Brother trying to assemble friends, lackeys and allies. This has driven up global prices and hotted up inflation, which had already been aggravated by the recent pandemic’s impact on global trade. Things will become more expensive. The world will continue to be pulled into different directions. Flashpoint issues - none greater than the issues of Taiwan’s independence - closely watched in the 2024 Taiwanese presidential election, will become intensely hot. Will these two superpowers learn to get along? How will their relationship mold every other bilateral and multilateral relationship in the world? How will it affect the global economy, stock market, your company and your working agenda this year? This question will mark the rest of the century.

Second, the days of wars and rumors of wars. No one expected 2023 to bring us not one but two major conflicts with massive international ramifications. Since 1945 major war on the European continent has been thought unthinkable. Since 1973 major incursions on the modern state of Israel has been thought unthinkable. Both of those assumptions have been upturned, and without prior warning. Putin’s war on Ukraine has not gone as he has hoped, but it would appear that international support for Ukraine is starting to wane. Will the United States be able to continue funding Zolensky’s admirable campaign against the regional superpower or will domestic pressures choke out American funding? In Israel, international support for the Israeli retaliation has already dried up, even though Prime Minister Netanyahu insists that Israel will go it alone for months until all the taken hostages are returned by Hamas. Meanwhile every day that Israel continues its occupation of the Gaza enrages both Muslims and the global community who see the human cost of that war. Iranian-funded Houthis have risen in solidarity and taken up arms in the Red Sea, imperling global trade around the Suez Canal even further. Will this give rise to more intifidas and acts of terror in solidarity? What will be left in Palestine when the dust settles and how will it change the Middle East? In the meantime how much more can our interconnected world endure from rising costs of war in the Middle East? How will these events impact where you live, what you have to give up and what you have to do?

Third, the world pursues misanthropy and assaults the image of God. From the original design in Creation, Man was meant to image and mirror God’s likeness in being male and female as His imagebearers to all Creation. However in sin, we have tarnished that likeness in numerous ways, many of which are now showing up in at least three secular discourses:

The climate crisis facing our world - part of the Genesis narrative is the delegation of man and woman to be vice-regents over the world that God has made. We are to tend life in the garden, image God to the Creation, and receive it as a gift given for our food and nourishment. Yet far from being that one family given stewardship over the garden for good by God, the United Nations Climate Change Conference (COPS28) closed in December 2023 by acknowledging that little progress has been made to steer humanity from the course of reaching its 1.5 degree increase limit. In other words, our way of life continues marching towards the point of destruction as we consume fuels and produce power in a way that makes the outcome inevitable. Will our secular language continue to fall short of humanity’s great sin and failures to steward God’s earth? Will we look for new ways to speak of sin, greed, pride and self-interest - the many ways we have tarnished God’s holy image? Friends, is there also a need to evaluate your own personal relationship to waste and consumption, at home or at work, as we think about our stewardship of God’s earth?

Anxiety over Artificial Intelligence - will the data that powers our collective experience, insight and creativity - a reflection of what we are, powered by cloud and quantum computing show us that the sum of human existence is less than the whole? With the rise of ChatGPT at the tail end of 2022, executives, workers, creatives and are terrified at seeing the leaps and bounds of AI’s potential and the risk that we will lose our jobs. The irony in all of this is that what it means to be human is precisely the question raised if what we have made in our collective “image” is faster, more networked, informed, insightful and intelligent than we are. Is there nothing more to being human than being human if our collective consciousness can do what we do? How has AI caused you anxiety at work last year? How will it change the work for the year to come?

The war over gender and identity- champions of women’s suffrage will claim that the battle for equal rights began much earlier than the 1960s. In 2023 the issue of abortion in the United States has freshly been invigorated by the striking down of Roe v. Wade by the USSC. But in this modern, even post-modern era, the gender wars have long moved beyond what it means to be male and female and to be recognised as such. Today the fight is for the rights of the same-sex attracted, and on to the rights of the gender fluid. Gender identity is not an assigned category as much as it is a way of seeing one’s self. But the waves of the sexual and trans revolution have begun to crash against the hard surface of the shore. In parts of the world where trans rights had been thought enshrined we have seen something of walking back of support for pro-trans positions as in areas of transition treatment or gender-affirming treatment for minors and trans women in women’s sports. How will humanity continue to reject the way that God has made us - male and female - in the days ahead and how will this conflict intensify? What choices will we need to make - especially those of us with children or with interactions with small children - how will we need to speak, model and teach on these issues?

Fourth, we will see more of life in an “Ecclesiastes 12” world. All around the world, we see a “hyperaging” phenomenon, but especially in developing countries like Singapore. Related to our misanthropy (above), falling birthrates and the declining respect for marriage, parenting and the role of the family show how our common humanity is marked by a dislike for other humans. Pet ownership is on the rise whereas parenting is on the decline. Unwittingly this contributes to our hyperageing where there are less babies relative to the aged. In Singapore, one of the advanced and prosperous nations in the world, one out of every four persons will be aged 65 and above by 2030. We will live increasingly in an Ecclesiastes 12 world - a world where we see a growing concern for healthcare, wellness and longevity where the body deteriorates and its related concerns increase. This will impact how we think about our costs, duties, where we live, how we live, our worship, spiritual formation, our relationships, obligations, freedoms and every part of life. How will we prepare for the needs of our seniors in the days ahead? What needs do we need to prepare for as a result?

Fifth, the wheat and tares will continue to grow. Without a doubt, the words of Matthew 13 will come to mark 2024 as we see the continued growth of both the true church of Christ growing like lifegiving nutritious wheat, and the world and its counterfeit of God’s holy church, like tares or weeds, growing alongside the wheat. At times it may even be confusing to distinguish between the two. There may be well-meaning believers who think they are spreading truth but actually propagating error. There may be sexual abusers and those who hurt others lurking in our communities. There may even be unrepentant believers, rejecting church discipline and shepherding, persisting in their wayward pursuit of sin, self and idolatry, living in close proximity to the people of God. Nowhere in the parable are we promised that the wheat grows independently from the growing weeds. But we are assured that both will grow and remain till the end, where they will be a sorting by the Farmer. In what ways will we see the church grow this year? Will it be in missions where the Gospel advances to the nations? Or will it be in the raising up of new leaders, preachers and evangelists for the sake of Christ’s name? Or will there be a harvest of people coming into the gathered feast, reclining at table and enjoying the fellowship of His people? Is there a need for a personal reset as we think about the growth of the wheat and weeds - what needs to change in your life as a result?

In the face of all these likely anticipations, what are God’s people to do as we think and look to the future? Two Scriptures come to mind, which are really one exhortation.

First, hear the words of Deuteronomy 6:6: “these words I command you today shall be on your heart”. Moses will go on to urge his hearers to bind the words of the Torah to the frontlets of their eyes and on their hands, so they can speak of them to family and friends everywhere they go. In other words, to be a people of the Word of God, anchored, rooted and established to the unchanging commands of the living God. While the world around us changes, let us remain steadfast, committed and immovable. To do this, we need a discipline of ever setting God’s Word before our eyes and hands. What we see and what we do must reflect that priority and that concern. To borrow the words of the Wesleys in their Watchnight covenant prayer of committment, we should aim to live according to God’s will guided by God’s Word: “I am no longer my own, but yours. Put me to what you will, place me with whom you will. Put me to doing, put me to suffering. Let me be put to work for you or set aside for you, Praised for you or criticized for you. Let me be full, let me be empty. Let me have all things, let me have nothing. I freely and fully surrender all things to your glory and service. And now, O wonderful and holy God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer,  you are mine, and I am yours. So be it. And the covenant which I have made on earth, Let it also be made in heaven. Amen.”

Second, heeding the words of Jesus in Matthew 7:24–27, build your house on the Rock: “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.”

If Deut 6 calls us to keep God’s Words in our heart in inner conformity, Matthew 7 calls us to trust and obey God’s Word by living them out in outward conformity. Jesus’ exhortation is clear - wisdom is to hear Jesus and do what He says. That is the equivalent of building your house on the Rock, the true, unchanging and immovable foundation that is stable and safe. When the storms of life land - the storms of geopolitics and macroeconomics, of wars, of cultural and societal revolution and church rise and fall - your foundations will all be revealed. 

Friends, be Bible-built for 2024. Take His Word into your heart and build your life on it. There is no warmer light for your soul and no safer foundation for your house. 

[faith-in-democracy]

Beware Your Own Confirmation Bias: The Greatest Threat to Your Growth

"Watch out for your own confirmation bias - it's like wearing glasses that only let you see what you already believe. Challenge your assumptions and keep an open mind to avoid being misled by your own thinking. #confirmationbias #criticalthinking" In a world where information is a currency, we are prone to seek out information that aligns with our pre-existing beliefs. This cognitive bias, known as confirmation bias, can be our greatest enemy. It blinds us to alternative viewpoints, stifles our ability to grow, and traps us in a bubble of certainty. It's time to confront this insidious force head-on and challenge our own assumptions. Let's embrace the discomfort of questioning our beliefs and seek out perspectives that challenge our worldview. The willingness to confront our own confirmation bias is the key to unlocking personal and intellectual growth. It's time to fear the limitations of our own biases more than any external threat, for it is within ourselves that the real battle for truth and growth rages on.