#to free people from the shackles of imposed fate

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐕. As a continuation of this addendum (heck, it really has been past two years), 「Bedtime Story」 made me quite happy at the notion of realm of consciousness since it became a visual thing through Raiden Ei and further confirmed to be something that happens in 「Flowers for Princess Fischl」, as it was stated that those who are strong enough in magic can have one and we could say that Caribert fit that criteria.

Now, as for what Dain's in particular looks like it's quite emotional that what catches the attention the most is the Sea of Flowers at the End and how it's meant to soften both the Inteyvats' petals and the heart. This would make the perfect scenery to soften once again his weary heart after spending so long without a real home of his own. Suffice to say, it would be a show of deep trust from Dain's end if he were to bring someone to his realm of consciousness. Moreover, that trust and appreciation for the individual in particular would only cement further if he actually brings them to the Sea of Flowers at the End properly.

[ianabanana22]

The Crown Prince’s Final Stand

What was authority when one had no power? 

Born to the prestige of royalty, Diavolo lived with two constants: luxury and authority. One was his birthright, the other a guiding principle drilled into him from the moment he learned how to write.

His father placed great importance on the latter, “Authority governs all.” The Demon King used to say in a steely voice, his gaze hard. “We must follow it, impose it, to keep our sovereignty and protect our people.”

“Authority is to practice the norm and follow the laws of the universe. The laws of Fate.” His words laden with meaning, little Diavolo etched them in his heart, slowly growing up into the dutiful Crown Prince his people admired.

And Fate was with him every step of the way he traversed the path set for him. It was easy. Comfortable. Blissful. Then again, when you're too focused on what's before you, you fail to see what's happening around you.

Just because Fate was kind to him, didn't mean she was to everyone else too. His was a rarity, a privilege granted only to whom she deemed truly deserving. 

The truly deserving didn’t include Lucifer whose eyes hardened with hate when she was mentioned.

It didn’t include each new star that dimmed in the Devildom sky, growing increasingly alarming in number as the centuries passed. 

It didn’t include peace between all the worlds, even as he tirelessly worked for negotiations.

The harder he tried, the more an invisible force always set him back. A new crisis arose, each worse than the last. As if Fate was saying, "Your authority is only as powerful as I allow it to. You are nothing before me." His privilege wasn’t all encompassing.

It only extended for as long as he lived according to what was ordained for him. It wasn’t fair and it began to irk him endlessly. His own potential was uprooted before it could flourish. It worried him. Was he forever doomed to a life of servitude?

Were his people? 

He wanted a better world where everyone felt safe and protected, free to live the life they wanted. Free from the shackles of expectation, of Fate... 

"Fuck Fate." Lucifer said one day over coffee. Diavolo gawked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said Fuck Fate. This is YOUR kingdom. YOUR people. She may be the master of Fate but she doesn't rule. YOU do." He leveled a crimson gaze at him. "So RULE." 

I have the power. I rule. 

I can go against the norm. 

I will.

He grinned at Lucifer, the knot in his heart slowly loosening. Up in the inky heavens, the Prince's star shined even brighter.

What was authority when one had no power? What use was authority when one didn’t exercise their power? Diavolo was the Prince. He will rule, Fate and norms and rules of the universe be damned. He will rule for however long he is needed. 

Fuck Fate a thousand times over.

-fin-

[gobboguy]

Chapter 35: The Serpent's Corrupted

The once-grand temple of Miranda, a testament to divine grace and justice, now stood tainted and twisted under the dark influence of High Priestess Isolde. The air within was heavy with an unsettling aura, the sacred space now corrupted by the merging of snake-like architecture and the Old Dominion's traditional motifs. Walls adorned with intricate carvings depicted serpents entwined around symbols of justice, while statues of Miranda were grotesquely altered, now featuring serpent heads instead of the serene visage of the goddess.

Ionia, once a devout follower of the Old Dominion, entered the temple with a mixture of sorrow and disgust etched across her face. She gazed upon the warped beauty of the structure, its sacredness desecrated by the twisted machinations of those in power. The echoes of curses whispered by discontented worshippers lingered in the air, as the people, once devoted, now strayed away from the corrupted teachings.

The grand altar, where prayers were once offered for justice and divine guidance, now served as a focal point for political manipulation. Isolde, draped in priestly robes that seemed to mimic the slithering of snakes, preached doctrines that had strayed far from the Old Dominion's true essence. Ionia, witnessing the perversion of her faith, felt a deep-seated frustration at the political repression veiled behind religious sanctity.

The once-peaceful halls echoed with sibilant whispers as the snake-like changes permeated every corner. Ionia's gaze swept across the transformed temple, and she couldn't help but mourn the loss of the sacred sanctuary she had once revered. The intertwining of serpentine imagery with the symbols of justice left a bitter taste in her mouth, symbolizing a dark chapter in the kingdom's history, where faith and power converged in unholy union.

Ionia's gaze swept across the grand temple, and her eyes narrowed with disdain as she spotted the only worshippers within its corrupted halls. Instead of genuine seekers of divine guidance, there stood political gamers, representatives from the Estate-General, seeking to ingratiate themselves with the corrupted prince and queen. A sneer of disgust curled her lips at the sacrilegious exploitation of faith for personal gain. Faith, once a source of solace and guidance, now reduced to a tool in the hands of those hungry for power. Shaking her head in dismay, Ionia turned away from the twisted spectacle, determined to distance herself from the perverse mingling of religion and politics. With a resolute stride, she left the temple behind, returning to the castle to attend to her duties with a heavy heart burdened by the perversion of her once-sacred beliefs.

As Ionia ascended the hill towards the imposing castle of Farfield, the sprawling city unfolded below her like a tapestry woven with both beauty and restraint. The colorful rooftops glistened in the sunlight, while the winding streets bustled with the lives of the kingdom's subjects. Yet, as she approached the looming edifice of the castle, her thoughts were a tumultuous blend of defiance and duty.

Craving independence and respect, Ionia's spirit yearned to break free from the shackles of tradition and gender norms that sought to confine her. The weight of expectations pressed upon her, demanding a demure and obedient facade, a mask she loathed wearing. With each step, the castle loomed larger, a symbol of both power and constraint.

Despite her disdain for Prince Rode, she couldn't escape the binding promise to her mother – an obligation to feign eagerness in marrying him for the supposed good of the kingdom. The very idea grated against her aspirations, a cruel twist of fate that tethered her to a destiny she never desired. As the castle gates drew near, her internal struggle intensified, torn between the obligation to uphold tradition and the burning desire for autonomy.

In the shadow of the imposing structure, she belatedly lamented the predetermined path her life had taken. Her heart whispered for more – a life unrestrained by societal expectations, a journey defined by her own choices. The castle, once a symbol of grandeur, now stood as a looming reminder of the sacrifices she must make, compelling her to wear the mask of obsequiousness while yearning for the freedom to chart her own destiny.

The acrimonious split between Seraphina and Ionia left scars that lingered in the halls of their hearts. Seraphina, grieving the loss of her unborn child, inaccurately attributed the tragedy to the stress of raising a headstrong daughter like Ionia. The bitter misunderstanding severed the mother-daughter bond, thrusting Ionia into a realm of determined conformity. Fueled by a desire to please her mother and alleviate the guilt she felt, Ionia, despite her detestation for the confines of noble propriety, donned the mask of a proper lady. The relentless pursuit of this unattainable ideal became her daily struggle, an ardent commitment to be the noblewoman her mother yearned for, even as the internal conflict raged within her.

[rineedagger]

MONSTROUS GIRLS IN CINEMA

Within the Madonna-whore dichotomy, itself already an unwinnable game, there's a strange space in between that's reserved for monstrous girls. They share some characteristics with the final girl in that some bloody trauma is usually the key to self-discovery, but the final girl's story ends on that note of growth and escape. For the monster, it's only the beginning. With growth comes the ability to seize agency and to experience pleasure, i.e. the chance to be free. They're given the chance to embrace it and revel in it, but it's a freedom that's always punished in the end. The monster has to die for there to be a happy ending.

It's a pattern that's strangest when one considers that the transformation from girl to monster always seems to be a way of referring to female growth, specifically with regards to the transition from girlhood into womanhood. There's an easy in, after all — girls going through puberty is already an inherently bloody process, and menstruation is still something that's relatively taboo when it comes to open discussion, e.g. pads and tampons are still a source of shame and cheap comedy rather than recognized as tools and necessities. As a result, menstruation is still largely a mystery to those who have yet to or will never go through it. Neither Carrie nor Ginger Snaps bother with much subtlety on that front; Carrie (starring Sissy Spacek) opens with Carrie's first period and her ensuing panic as she doesn't understand what's happening to her, and Ginger Snaps starts with a girl's first period as well, as Ginger Fitzgerald (Katharine Isabelle) is bitten by a werewolf that's drawn by the scent of the blood.

Both are cases of girls being preyed upon for being stereotypically innocent or virginal, but flouting the mould doesn't guarantee safety, either. Jennifer's Body plays with the rule, as Jennifer (Megan Fox) is butchered in a ritual sacrifice because of a miscommunication — her murderers think she's a virgin. But it's a small mercy. One of the more parodied rules in horror is that you can't have sex unless you want to die; in that sense, Jennifer's fate was sealed either way. It doesn't matter whether a girl is classically "good" or "bad;" either way, everyone else has an idea of what she ought to do with her body. And when the straw finally starts to break the camel's back, the girl's body rebels.

All three examples offer a certain empowerment and freedom, which is all well and good in theory but becomes something to be stamped out when it's freedom from the societal bounds that are usually imposed upon women. They're suddenly free (and able) to embrace their own appearances, and they're free to act with confidence. They talk back, they do what they want to do, they know their worth. They learn to love what they're told makes them ugly, in this case literally. And that just can't stand. The beauty they manifest in being independent must be branded as taboo because it's not in service of anyone else but themselves. Granted, there's a little problem in that they're driven to kill or outright eat people, but that's part and parcel with the larger metaphor. The price these girls have to pay for agency is always bloody, and not just with regards to menstrual blood. Carrie is quite literally drenched in it before she finally snaps, Ginger is mauled, and Jennifer is stabbed to death before coming back as a riff on a succubus. And even then, they continue to have to pay a cost. They pay for playing inside the rules, and they pay for breaking them, too.

Even the rare endings in which monstrous girls don't die have to be somehow qualified. The Witch's Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy) is freed from the Puritan shackles of her family life, but it's at the cost of her family itself, and her "freedom" is in the hands of the very witches who'd taken her family from her. She laughs as she joins their circle and rises into the air, but it's not pure joy that suffuses her voice. What choice does she have, after all, other than to join them? Her family was cast out of its settlement, and there's nothing else out there in the woods. The Lure, meanwhile, features two man-eating mermaids and spares just one of them, though tearing them apart in such a way is arguably worse than killing them both.

The monstrous girl has always had to play within a set of rules — an ultimate irony, considering that their ultimate crime is trying to break free. She cannot find love so long as she hangs on to what makes her different. She is weak if she does not embrace the supernatural; she is evil if she does. She is ugly as a monster with agency; she is underestimated as a girl without it. She can’t be a girl, but she can’t be a woman, either. She must always suffer in order to gain power, and she must always ultimately give it up. It’s an unfair game given that all she’s really doing is growing up. But there’s evidence that she may soon be able to break out of her cage.

Monstrous Girls in Cinema by Karen Han.

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 24: Illustrious

“Is it done, Alphinaud?” Dia pestered excitedly.

“No, it is not.”

She waited for approximately five seconds before asking again, “How about now?”

“Do you really want me to rush through this?”

“You’re the Artist Alphinaud, I am your assistant; what else can I do if not make sure you finish?”

“Will you ever let go of that?”

“Never.”

Alphinaud sighed defeatedly and continued his drawing. He was commissioned to create a current portrait of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to hang in the Solar. To their relief, he had everyone’s figures wrote to memory and therefore, did not require them to pose. That in mind, Dia couldn’t help but be a shadow to the boy, watching his artistry at work. The Warrior of Light was many things; an artist, she was not. It seemed the act of using a paintbrush did not come with the same ease as using a sewing needle, or a cooking utensil.

In the middle stood what he believed looked like himself holding a carbuncle while Alisaie stood on his right side at roughly the same height with her rapier held out in front of her. Dia towered behind him carrying Tataru on her shoulders (at her behest) with Thancred on her left with his arms crossed, Y’shtola on her right with a cane being wielded, Urianger on Thancred’s left with a book in hand, G’raha between Alphinaud and Alisaie with a big grin on his face, and Krile in front of Y’shtola to the left of Alphinaud leaning up against him.

“All right, I’m not done, but what do you think so far, Dia?” She scrambled from the Solar door to the desk to look it over with enthusiasm. “Ahh, I love it so far! Why’d you make yourself so short though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Alphinaud, you’re not that small. You almost made yourself into a lalafell compared to me.”

“It feels accurate to me…after all, ‘tis no secret I’m of a smaller stature in comparison to many of you.”

“Smaller stature, sure, but you’re not miniature. Give yourself more credit.” He shook his head before she inquired, “And where’s Estinien?”

“Oh…”

“What?”

“He…told me not to draw him…”

If her eyes could turn red in fury like Nidhogg, they would have in that very moment. “Give me but a moment, Alphinaud…” she told him quietly. She turned away from the smaller elezen and exited out the door in a seemingly calm manner, concealing her fury.

*********

Estinien, Thancred, and Urianger enjoyed a cup of coffee in the lobby.

“So you sort of just…wait for an assignment?” Estinien confirmed. The other two nodded. “Frankly, it’s been a bit more trouble to have the patience recently, particularly since our last assignment wasn’t exactly taken by choice”, Thancred stated.

“Indeed. Though we only aged some few moons in the Source, our souls hath lived on for years in the First, and kept us all plenty occupied, particularly when our friend finally arrived”, Urianger affirmed. Estinien made a hum. “What did you do while waiting before?”

“Oh”, Thancred began nervously, “Nothing too unusual. We just took our rest, did something leisurely, enjoyed ourselves whilst we waited.”

“Is that what thou calleth courting several maidens at once?”

Thancred scowled at Urianger while Estinien made a slight smile at the remark. Suddenly, Thancred and Urianger made horrified faces and scattered from their positions, abandoning Estinien to his fate: a furious Warrior of Light, wearing a look she wore when she killed gods.

“Do you want to explain your thought process here?” Dia confronted him.

“You’re under the assumption that I care to explain anything.”

“Look, I get you that you like to work alone; frankly, it’s understandable in a way. Twelve knows half the work I do needs to be done alone, lest anyone without the Echo be tempered, but I have news for you: you are not alone anymore!”

He growled, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” She placed her face in her palm, then explained annoyedly, “The portrait, Estinien.”

“By the Fury, you’re angry with me about that?”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“It’s a bleeding portrait. What does it matter?”

“It matters, Estinien! It matters a lot to me, to Alphinaud, to quite a few of us.”

His face betrayed his befuddlement. Not having been a Scion for very long, her irritation seemed misplaced.

“That portrait’s not my place”, he attempted to explain, “And quite frankly, I don’t understand why you all so desperately want this portrait in the first place.”

“We want to commemorate our little family.”

“This isn’t my family. It never was.”

“Never?” she repeated incredulously.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone.

“Estinien, Alphinaud fought for you after your possession by Nidhogg. I fought for you. When everyone seemed intent on killing you, even yourself, we did everything we could to keep you alive. We even entreated Hraesvelgr to help us save you when Aymeric seemed content with just stopping Nidhogg at any cost. Then you go and follow us through Gyr Abania, to the point where you even pushed back an Ascian in the body of Zenos yae Galvus, and pulled my comatose body out of a battlefield and back to the front. And on top of that, you helped take out Black Rose facilities for us while the rest of us were off in another world. You mean to tell me that meant nothing?!”

Estinien blinked.

“Guess what, dragon boy? You were a Scion before you even offered your lance!”

He looked away to the floor, pondering her words, irritated by the nickname.

“Don’t call me ‘dragon boy’…” he snapped.

“That’s what you’re taking from this?”

He remained silent, still thinking through. What in hells had he done? What did he get himself into? He let out a frustrated breath and walked away. She watched him get away from her in disbelief, and followed him as he aimed for the Solar.

Estinien opened the door and called, “Alphinaud?”

The young elezen looked up and away from his efforts. “Yes, Estinien?” The dragoon hesitated, then begrudgingly ordered, “…put me in your damn portrait.”

Dia flashed a huge grin, and Alphinaud’s eyes lit up in excitement. “I’ll do just that! Thankfully, I was still sketching, so I can find a way to add you.”

“Hm…good, I guess.” He closed the door behind him and glared at Dia, still chipper from his agreement. “You’re a pain in my side, Dia Sito.”

“You have to be to do what I do. Thank you, Estinien. He’s a great artist; he’ll do you justice.” He shook his head and stomped off while Dia hurried back inside the Solar.

*********

A bell had passed since Estinien agreed to be in the portrait. Making sure he wasn’t followed, he quietly slipped into the Solar where Alphinaud continued his work unabated. He sat down in front of the young artist and bade him, “How goes the portrait?”

“Quite well, all things considered. I did have to remake the idea a bit, but overall, I’m quite pleased with how it turned out.”

“I see.” The dragoon shuffled in his chair for a moment, unsure how to phrase his next question. “Alphinaud…you are doing this of your own free will, correct?” He brought his attention from his work to the question brought before him. “Of course I am”, he answered incredulously.

“You’re sure, Alphinaud?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“I want to make sure this is something that you truly wish to do. Dia has a tendency to be a bit dramatic as I’ve recently learned.”

“Fear not, Estinien. I’m under no influence but mine own.”

Estinien let out a long breath and asked, “I know her reasons, but what of yours? What does obsessing over a painting get you?”

Alphinaud smiled at him. “I get a chance to relax.”

“Really?”

“I do. The past few times I’ve drawn, ‘twas out of necessity in order to locate our missing comrades or to gain entry into forbidden cities. This isn’t like that at all. Despite our friend’s being a bit more enthusiastic than I’m used to, I feel no pressure.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at the very least, Alphinaud. But is that the only reason why?”

Alphinaud brought his gaze back to the portrait. In particular, he focused on the outlines of two people; Dia and Estinien.

“When I lost command of the Crystal Braves…when I heard that everyone I knew had been lost to that bloody banquet, all I felt was hopelessness. I felt stuck in a dark abyss, where nothing could see me nor pull me from it’s shackles. That’s what I earned for dehumanizing those who would help me, for seeing them all as pawns in my game to unite Eorzea.

Then Dia pulled me out of it. So did Tataru and Haurchefant.

Despite everything I ever thought of her, despite the way I would send her out as though she were my trusty god-slayer from my toolbelt, she stood with me, and helped me find a new home. Had she not saved Haurchefant’s friend from the Inquisition, and slayed Shiva, and the dragon that threatened the gates of Ishgard, we would not have found refuge within it’s walls.

After everything that came of our tenure in Ishgard, the Scions became something different. Especially now that my blood family has forsaken me, the bonds I’ve formed with my comrades became a great source of comfort to me. Everyone has their reasons for why the Scions are their home. If we wish to commemorate that with a painting, I see no reason not to oblige.”

Estinien didn’t usually pry into this sort of business; that was Aymeric’s domain. Yet, he did find himself in a better understanding of Alphinaud after that. He met the boy when he was still so immature, inexperienced in many things that were obvious to him growing up with Ser Alberic. It was interesting to hear how he changed, and what he missed.

“So this truly is more than just Dia’s will being imposed on others, then.”

“Dia’s not wont to impose her will onto others. She merely expressed a wish that the rest of the Scions shared, myself included.” Alphinaud raised an eyebrow. “Now that I think of it…I’m not entirely sure what her will is on a normal day. What does she want?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps it’s best for that to remain her business, hm?”

“When this is all over, and the Final Days are halted, I mean to express my sincere gratitude to her in any way I can.”

“Heh. Good luck with that”, Estinien commented as he rose from his chair. “Well, I won’t pry from your work any longer. Keep at it, Alphinaud.”

“I will, Estinien, thank you.”

The dragoon turned away and left through the door to the Solar. Alphinaud returned his full focus to the portrait.

******

The days passed while Alphinaud took his time to focus on the painting. The Solar was nearly forbidden territory, with the exception of Dia, who nobody would dare try to stop. After nearly a week’s worth of effort, Dia finally opened the door, and approached her fellow Scions.

“If any of you would like to view the portrait and help us decide where to place it, that would be most welcome”, Dia announced to the group as they sat in the lobby. All but Estinien rose from their chairs and walked towards the Solar.

“That means you too, Estinien.”

“Your suggestion is noted.”

“Get in here, or I’m telling Alphinaud to put it on your bed.”

He stood up reluctantly and followed her into the Solar, where they beheld the group fawning over the portrait. Estinien and Dia looked to each other, Dia wearing a smile on her face, Estinien his usual stoic look. He slowly walked towards the portrait to join the group.

For the most part, the positions of everyone stayed the same with one notable exception; Estinien stood between Dia and Thancred with a smirk and with his hand placed on Alphinaud’s head.

“I’m glad he took my suggestion and made himself taller”, Dia mused. Estinien tore his eyes away from the painting and looked to Dia. “Didn’t he do a good job with you, Estinien?” He nodded, “Aye, he did.” He brought his attention back to his portrait self.

Is that how he sees me, he thought.

“All right, now the question remains: where do we place it?” Alphinaud asked the group.

Everyone took a moment to think. “What about up there?” Estinien suggested, pointing to a spot above the desk…the spot that once held Tupsimati. Most of the group shifted uncomfortably with the exception of G’raha and Dia.

“Well…” Alphinaud started.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Dia defended. The group made faces of disbelief towards her. “Look, I will never forget Louisoix, nor will I forget Moenbryda’s sacrifice. But that spot is perfect. Anytime we walk in, we’ll see us hanging there proudly. After all, Tupsimati’s not hung there in how many moons now. Why don’t we use that spot to honor a new legacy?”

The Scions considered her words. “Did I touch upon something sensitive?” Estinien whispered to Dia. “‘Tis a long story. You did nothing wrong”, she whispered back to him.

“All right. Perhaps it would be better for us all to let our own story be told. After all, we saved not just one world, but two. That should be worth a nice spot, don’t you think?” Thancred reasoned. The group nodded.

“Allow me”, offered G’raha. He took out his staff and levitated the portrait from it’s spot. Y’shtola took out her cane and prepared a nail for the painting to hang upon. The two combined their efforts, and in a matter of minutes, the portrait hanged proudly in the very same spot Louisoix’s legacy once stood, the legacy that Dia had unfortunately sacrificed along with Moenbryda in her attempt to destroy Nabriales.

“There. I like it there quite a bit”, Dia complimented. “Thank you, G’raha, Y’shtola.”

“Of course. Now would you care to explain to me why that spot seemed to cause discomfort?” G’raha questioned.

Dia smiled. “I owe you two an explanation, it would seem.”

[youuuimeanmee]

Eren Meta From 139

Many people believe chapter 139 butchered Eren's character because of this scene.

Because out of nowhere, Eren's motivation is to reach Mikasa's choice to satisfy Ymir's wish; thus, everything he said from the beginning about his motivation is all lies or meaningless.

No. And I'm no writing this to justify or condemn him. This post is more for myself, because I'm trying to understand his character.

Now let's see at his words. "All of it, was to arrive at that result. That's why I moved forward." What does he mean by it? Which actions?

This.

All the events, starting from ch 123-139, are going according to Ymir's wish.

Right after Eren told her to decide for herself.

She wants to end the world, at least 80% of it. She wants to push Eren's friends to stop him, even if they have to betray their nation. The Battle of Heaven and Earth, all of the clusterfucks in chapter 135-138 happens because it's Ymir's will to push Mikasa to make a choice. She chooses to end the titan curse after she gets to see what she wants.

Ymir did all of this, she watched all the events that unfold because Eren released her.

Then, what about Eren's will?

This is why I'm okay with the idea of Eren following Ymir; Eren doesn't have a reason to reject Ymir's wish because he got what he wants. He got the future he saw on the medal ceremony, the eradication of titans. He got the "freedom" to flatten the earth, and if his gamble paid off, he'd get his friends' safety; because they will become the world's savior after they stop him. It's a win-win situation, thus, putting him in a position where he becomes Ymir's ally and stands by her side.

The reason why Ymir chose Mikasa is not clear, but Eren had a hunch and it's something he could relate to; another reason for him to not object to Ymir's wish. It has something to do with that day when Mikasa practically confessed her love for him, the day where he could use the Founder's power for the first time. I leave this scene up to your interpretation.

What about Eren's will from before 123? What did he try so hard to achieve?

This scenery. Aside from the eradication of titans.

Here's the thing. Doesn't matter if fate favors you or not, you have to work hard to get what you want. To work hard, you need to know the reason. I take Isayama's artistic choice that the future memories he saw are fragments without context; he doesn't know why it happens the way it would. So, even if he saw the scenery, even if he saw the eradication of titans, why he has to go to hell first? Why he has to go through all of the suffering? Why he has to keep moving forward? He doesn't have to; but the world, destiny or whatever keeps feeding him reasons to move forward, until he reached a conclusion that the titan world is fucked up system and has been going for far too long. For Eren, this needs to end, and he wants to reach that scenery no matter what.

This is the man who saw how unforgiving the outside world is. The fact that a little girl got eaten by dogs just because she's an Eldia is proof that a subject of Ymir can never gain freedom, can never gain the privilege of human rights the way a normal human does. (I suggest you to read Gross' monologue from ch 87). The man saw how the world keeps pushing Paradis to be the source of evil without listening to what the other parties have to say. The man is manipulated to euthanize his own people as if Eldia doesn't deserve to be born. He saw the fucked up history of titans from 2000 years ago. He was so disappointed the world is not like in Armin's book, it's not like his ideal world. So he wants to wipe it away. He wants to bury the history and the civilization that created it, deep to the ground. He wants to destroy every last one of those animals, that's on this earth; titans or humans alike. He wants to leave the surface a blank plain. This is his ideal world, his freedom.

Eren said it himself. Even if he didn't know that his friends would stop him; even if it's not Ymir's will, he'd still trample the earth. To me, the reason why Eren commit genocide, the reason he said to Armin is no different than the reason he said to Zeke.

It's just the way he is ever since he was born.

A freedom seeker.

The wording is different with the receiver. With Zeke, it's different, because he's trying to make a point that this is who he is. But with Armin? He is going to die, with his best friend as his judge. He knew exactly why he wanted it: because he is free, ever since he was born. But somehow he couldn't say it outright with confidence. Maybe he's afraid to be judged as a monster by the person closest to him, or maybe he started to question his definition of freedom. Because to me, his eyes look like wonders.

Now. What is freedom? Many people believe that any acts out of violence is not freedom. But to Eren, that is freedom, his freedom. There's a meta that perfectly explains Eren's version of freedom, up until he did the rumbling. This is my highlight from that meta:

So freedom is the power of the individual to do as one wants. When you do something, you are imposing your internal desires onto the external world. If freedom is thus the power to impose your individual Will onto the outside world, then whoever has more power has more freedom.

This concept was highlighted when he told his friends in Paths that he's free to destroy the world and they're free to defend it; meaning that they're bound to clash, and they have to fight.

Freedom is not good. Nor is it bad. It is a force beyond good and evil, and that is precisely why it is terrifying. This, I believe, is why so many baulk at the idea that such a ruthless manipulator could be the avatar of freedom in this story. What I have always loved about SNK is how it delves ever deeper into its themes as the story goes on and discovers such fundamental paradoxes that your understanding of the idea is changed forever. If this is the horrifying face of freedom, perhaps we should not be free.

I don't know how much Isayama's involvement in this, but Grisha's commentary from the Lost Girls captures this concept perfectly.

For Eren, that "great power" is his own concept of freedom: A world without oppression. Doing what you want to do. He's free to protect his homeland by whatever necessary, whatever cost, and leave the rest of the world as an open plain.

Usually, the more we're obsessed with something, the more we stray from our humanity. After witnessing firsthand the vision-he-so-called-freedom, he doesn't know how to feel. He gets what he wants, but he's not happy at all, only the hollow scenery remains.

Eren realized how messed up he is, even before he did this. He tried to reach out to Mikasa that night after he saved Ramzi, to save his humanity left. It's one of the reasons why he asked her, "what is he to her?" Surely if he was loved –even after he killed those men when he saved her that day– would mean he's still human, right? And by running away with her, he could live in peace, maybe he could free himself from his obsession. But he's doing it so half-heartedly, that when everyone interrupted them, he just... let it go. He didn't bother to sneak with her or anything. He couldn't let go of the future he saw, he's losing himself to his desire/inner demon, to his obsession of freedom. Or maybe he's winning over his pathetic self so he could focus on what he needs to do? One could interpret this scene as Eren trying to break free from his obsession for "freedom." One could interpret this scene as Eren trying to break free from the shackles of his conscience. It's up to you.

Eren's outburst over Mikasa in this chapter is his pent-up feeling over her. It is, but after I write this meta, maybe it's more than that. It's because she's the proof of his humanity left. Many, many times, Mikasa is there to stop him from ruining himself. Mikasa's love creates a subconscious understanding that she will always be there for him. That's a part of her that he loves, and by feeling love, it means his humanity still exists. If Mikasa chooses to move on with another man, it means she will forget all the times they had together, she will forget the most human side of him. The only person who loves him as who he is, his home, would be lost. He would be lost. That idea scares him, even though he knows he doesn't deserve her love after everything he has done.

One more thing; another reason why Eren doesn't mind to be stopped, aside from Ymir's wish will get him what he wants –as I already explained. People argue that the conflict won't end until Paradis or the rest of the world remains; thus, Eren's half-hearted genocide is meaningless. No. No matter how angry he is that he wants to eradicate everything, he has enough maturity to understand, even back from the Battle of Trost, that humanity is far from united even if they're faced against a threat beyond human understanding. During the after-party night before the Battle of Shiganshina, he accepts that great power comes from joining ourselves together. We all need to find our own roles. Humans are created differently, because of times like this. By sparing the rest of the world, it keeps both Paradis and the world from collapsing. By keeping the diversity of people, someday it will open a path for peace because it's a part of human nature to try to understand each other; he learned it from the SC. Eren believes Armin could take him there, after he died. Maybe he forgot all of that because he's too caught up in his hate and anger up until 122, the same way he forgot back in the days.

Even if it's not explicitly explained in this chapter, I'd like to think that Eren got plenty of time to reflect on this matter when he did the Rumbling, to fill the emptiness he felt after he reached what he wants wanted.

Eren wins in the end, but at what cost? This chapter is calling out his tyrannical mindset, and it's great to see him realized his error, even if it's too late for him to go back.

Maybe this is what Isayama decided to focus on the last chapter, even if it's rushed. Maybe he (or his editor, idk) wanted the ending to focus on the protagonist's story about humans vs titans. The way Eren is so determined to wipe it out from this world, no matter how messed up his method, no matter how much he suffers, it doesn't matter if it's predestined or not. Because "freedom" is what he seeks ever since he was born. Because Eldia, every person deserves to be born in this world. Yes, every person, including everyone he killed. He knew the gravity of his action and choose to accept his death. Maybe it's the reason why Isayama doesn't delve into the aftermath of genocide further.

He wants the ending to be about Eren Yeager, The Attack Titan's journey about Attack. On. Titan.

[kinogane]

On Ninian’s Paired Ending

Theoretically, because of what is established about Eliwood in The Binding Blade, it stands to reason that pairing anyone up with Eliwood in the prequel, The Blazing Blade, can be construed as knowingly setting them up for tragedy. There’s a small wrinkle, however, in that The Binding Blade was never released outside of Japan, while The Blazing Blade was (under the annoying title Fire Emblem), which means that in practice, non-Japanese players can’t reasonably be expected to know about Eliwood’s partner’s fate.

With one major exception: Ninian.

If you raise Eliwood and Ninian’s support level to A, the modified ending to the final chapter, “Light”, has Nils talk to Ninian and explicitly spell out, primarily to the audience, that neither of them will live long if they stay in Elibe. Despite this, sensing his sister’s wish to stay with Eliwood, Nils entrusts Ninian’s shorter life and happiness to Eliwood and says goodbye as he heads through the gate to live a long life, never to be seen again.

Now, granted, what exactly Nils means by “short” and “long” isn’t necessarily clear just in the context of this scene. Since it’s established that dragons live for millennia, you could reasonably interpet “short” as “short by dragon standards”, which could be still be very long by human standards. This read doesn’t hold up particularly well given further context, but just in the scope of what is presented in The Blazing Blade, it’s not patently ridiculous.

But that interpretation only deflects from the real tension at play. From Ninian’s perspective, she is trading away a long, happy life in another world with her brother for a significantly shorter, but potentially happier(?) life in Elibe with Eliwood. Whatever “short” might mean by human standards (including the player), it’s definitely short by Ninian’s standards.

From an in-universe perspective, there’s no actual tension from this decision. Nothing in the text suggests that Ninian is making this choice out of anything but her own free will. In fact, Ninian was fully ready to leave alongside Nils and was saying goodbye to Eliwood, only stopping when Nils chimes in and essentially give her and Eliwood his blessing to stay.

The tension arises when viewing all of this from a meta perspective; namely, that the writers saw fit to make this Ninian’s fate. Even as someone who likes the pairing and likes the way it plays out, because it’s effectively setting an angst time bomb, I’d be lying if I said this narrative beat felt... questionable. Like, Ninian is a character developed enough to have an identity outside of being one of Eliwood’s love interests (see also: her relationship with Nils, her other supports with Hawkeye and Florina), but making her final major act of agency be consigning herself to a brief life with Eliwood doesn’t exactly instill confidence that she actually is more than Eliwood’s love interest.

None of this, on its own, is all that noteworthy. What is noteworthy, however, is that everything I just mentioned is contingent entirely on raising Eliwood and Ninian’s support level to A. Since Ninian is only available for deployment (and, by extension, for developing supports) for seven or eight out of over thirty chapters, and Eliwood must not have more than two support conversations with other characters, this is actually quite difficult to do intentionally, let alone accidentally. If Eliwood and Ninian do not have an A-Support, then Ninian leaves with Nils as she intended to, and quite likely lives a long and happy life with her brother.

As such, knowledge of this ending imposes a special dilemma on players who do like Eliwood and Ninian together. Do you manifest their pairing in your game, etching their union into the personal canon of your save while also ostensibly dooming Ninian to a simultaneously canonical early death? Or do you instead leave them unpaired, saving Ninian in the personal canon of your save while avoiding leaving any canonical trace that the two could even be happy together and settling for other, external ways to express your preference?

I’d wager some people don’t actually see this as a dilemma, since it’s contingent on placing what they would see as undue focus on canon, and all that matters is what is expressed to the outside world, to others, which most commonly takes the form of fanwork. Whether or not the ending is actually achieved, the shackles of canon can only weigh down those that respect it, and it’s trivially easily to pick and choose as needed. What’s the issue?

And while I am ultimately of that mindset, I also think it is useful to at least sometimes take canon as it is and properly think through the implications, however inconvenient or unpleasant they might be. Canon, after all, is only what is assumed to be the common ground for all participants, so it’s at least worth thinking about how things would have to play out canonically, if discussing works of fiction with other people is something to be valued.

I bring this up as someone who’s been sitting on an Eliwood/Ninian fic that tries to explore how Ninian (and to a lesser extent, Eliwood) would go about living in the time between The Blazing Blade and The Binding Blade, with the knowledge that she’s not long for the world perpetually lingering over the two. It’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since I learned about the way the pairing plays out in The Blazing Blade for the reasons highlighted above. Doomed relationships are nothing new in video games, but this specific kind of doomed relationship, where actualizing it necessarily brings about an otherwise avoidable death, is considerably rarer.

It’s not all that surprising that I personally would take to it, since it’s an obvious wellspring of angst, but it’s one that requires some legwork to really hit. It’s one thing to die, mourning for a potential that was never realized; it’s another (and in my opinion, more gutwrenching) thing to actually realize that potential then fade away, believing wholeheartedly that it was all worth it in the end.

Canonically speaking, if Eliwood and Ninian were to be together, it could only ever be for a few years. And through her actions, we, as an audience, are to believe that spending a few years with her beloved Eliwood would make Ninian happier than spending many years amongst her kind in another land would.

And as someone who on some level wants the two to be together, I feel at least some obligation to try to imagine a life where that holds true, in my own small way, even if such a life is bound to end in tears.

[reivontulet-arch]

𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒚 / it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back. ( fantasy )

rory had grown up in a peaceful druid camp, tucked within a a tranquil alcove within the mountain trees. for the longest time, it had just been her and her father, the tribe’s elder. they looked out for each other, as well as young druids led who were left with no one and no home. she was a happy girl, and spent her days learning the magic to assume her role as the tribe’s elder one day and guide her people through the realm. she was to protect them, look after them, and uphold their ways passing onto the next generation. there was no other pride she could have. 

until one fateful night, their camp was raided by ruthless bandits. they plundered and slaughtered. she fell, trying and failing to conjure up enough magic to protect her people as she watched them strike down her father, her friends, every memory of the life she had once had. she was bound in chained laced with poison, designed to dampen her magic, and taken prisoner by the bandits. she tended to their camps, their armors, their upkeep, and remained witness to their bloodshed for years. as time droned on and their violence became a sick game, forcing her hand to use her own magic to participate in their brutality. and she did, weak and helpless, with no where to go. to save the life of a child she’d kill their parents, to leave a small family together she’d set fires to their crops. all acts of menace the bandits could have done themselves, but they enjoyed watching the young druid lose a part of her soul with each time. 

at long last she’d come to her the edge of desperation. she wanted freedom, but she wanted revenge more. so she broke the rules of druid magic, and called an infernal entity for their blessing, swearing her life and practice to them in exchange for power to free herself. the seal on her soul was eternal, forever damned, but that was no the only cost at which this bargain came with. rory would become the entity’s priestess and vessel within the realm, never allowed to refuse the help of those who seek her out, and gathering more souls to feed her infernal tenet. she accepted the deal, too blinded by rage and hatred for her captors. dark magic flowed in her veins and freed her from her shackles. she walked away from the bandits’ camp leaving no soul alive. for every moment of pain and strife they’d caused her and others, she’d made sure to leave them with tenfold before finally taking their lives. 

at first, she thought she was free. she sought shelter in a nearby village, reveling in the fact that she had saved it from the bandits that had intended on raiding it. she was taken in by a kind old innkeeper and looked after until she gathered her strength. without even thinking it, when she realized the old woman struggled with her mint plants, rory used her magic to help them flourish. it was then in horror she saw the infernal mark appear on the woman’s skin, visible to only her eyes. rory remembered the price she paid, and would continue to pay, until the rest of her days. in the dead of night, she ran away. word must not spread of her powers, or what she could grant. she would not damn anyone else. her own soul was enough. 

for a long time, she traveled. trading labor for shelter, food, and transportation. and the more she traveled, the more she found herself in a situation where she was asked for help. she couldn’t refuse, and so she kept on binding more people to her infernal being. finally, after reluctantly raising a sick dog from the dead for a weeping little girl, the youngest she’d ever damned, rory took to the forest and kept there. she hides, stowed away in a weary looking cottage. in self-imposed exile, she can’t harm anyone, and hopes to forever fade from memories of those she’d hurt. 

in this verse, rory is a druid who practices dark magic and necromancy in the name of an infernal being she’s eternally bound to when she traded her soul for power to free herself from bandits who’d kept her prisoner. 

rory lives in an old cottage in the middle of the woods. she spends most of her days gathering herbs and creating potions; usually spoken, light magic spells used to tend to wounds, crops, and animals. she rarely uses the dark magic except for blood rituals to maintain her oath to her deity.

rory can bind wounds and treat maladies without the use of magic. it’s something she’s learned in her days as a young druidess, and continued doing during her period of captivity.

rory found a wolf pup, abandoned and alone during a stormy night. she took in the pup and looked after her. she’s now grown, and is rory’s only companion. her name is amaris. 

when someone finds her cottage, rory usually uses an old woman illusion if she detects no threat. if they need tending to their wounds or supplies to continue their travels. as long as they don’t know about her powers, she tries her best to help them.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH40

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

-----

Chapter 40: Star Death Reality Show (XXIII)

In front of the screen, Qi Leren went completely cold. Even the temperature regulating suit couldn't keep out the chill pouring into the bottom of his heart.

The "Qi Leren" in the game knew "Passerby A", but Qi Leren didn't remember "Passerby A" ever meeting "Qi Leren". Was the save file changed or the whole game changed?

Qi Leren stared at the "Qi Leren" on the screen. "Qi Leren" had ignored Passerby’s existence. After seeing Maria's tombstone, he went to Ning Zhou and started a familiar conversation that made his hair stand on end.

"She always wanted to go back," Ning Zhou said.

"Go back to the Holy City?" "Qi Leren" in the game asked.

Ning Zhou nodded: "But she had been unable to go back and dared not to."

"Qi Leren" asked him, "Do you want to go back to the Holy City?"

As if it was fate, he watched the same story unfold before his eyes, only this time, he was a passerby. It was also this unique perspective that made him see many things that he hadn't noticed before—originally at that time, had Ning Zhou’s face really looked like this?

That faint shyness, when he changed his perspective, was so obvious that it couldn’t be hidden. And the look in Ning Zhou’s eyes... Those eyes that reflected the golden glow of the sunset, where can you hide the tenderness?

Maybe only two people who had feeling for each other would be too stupid to see clearly.

The following story was almost according to the exact direction of the Nightmare World, except that there was one more "Passerby". The "Qi Leren" in the game seemed to be familiar with him. From the words inadvertently mentioned by "Qi Leren", they had come from the same Novice Village. Just when Qi Leren thought he was replacing Dr. Lu, Dr. Lu also appeared, and the number of people on the Holy City task this time became five.

Passerby A, Qi Leren, Ning Zhou, Dr. Lu, and... Su He.

The Devil of Fraud who had hidden his identity and appeared in front of them as a friendly senior once again joined their ranks.

Don't take Su He, don't take him!

However, no matter how the Qi Leren in front of the screen shouted in his heart, he still knew nothing about the future fate in the game. Passerby A was just a passer-by, who couldn't control all of this. The game didn't even give him any options; he could only choose to go along the established route.

Until they came to the Holy City, until the nightmare of the new moon came, until...

Until "Qi Leren" died.

When the Passerby, who had drunk the antidote, hurried to the old site of the Vatican along with  Dr. Lu, everything was already over. Qi Leren didn't even have to go to the Vatican on top of the mountain, because he knew that the other Qi Leren was sleeping in the tree tomb in the Garden of the Holy Tomb.

Once, there was an afternoon with warm sunshine, when they had had a picnic here, the grass and treetops were full of flowers. A gust of wind had blown, and blue and white petals fell in abundance. At that time, he had been lying in the hollow tree stump covered with green grass, relaxing in the sunshine.

Past and present seem to overlap in this cutscene.

He came to the Garden of the Holy Tomb, silently watching "Qi Leren" sleep in the tree tomb under the starry night with the milky way hanging high above them, and Ning Zhou quietly standing beside "Qi Leren".

From dusk to dawn.

Companionship was always short, but missing could be very long.

This long thought, this long farewell, may take up this person's whole life—if he didn't wake up.

The Holy City was becoming more and more boisterous, and finally it was time to say goodbye.

He saw that Ning Zhou, who had not recovered from his injuries, had picked seven white wild roses and plucked off the thorns one by one, which seemed to be him breaking free from the shackles of his heart one after another, and every bloody thorn pierced his skin.

He was breaking free from his chains, but wasn't he taking off his armor?

This was his farewell to his lover, and also to the faith that dominated the first half of his life. From now on, he would continue to have faith, but he would no longer be accepted by that faith, because he was already a heretic.

When Ning Zhou placed the seven white roses on Qi Leren, his expression told Qi Leren that he had made a decision.

The Qi Leren in front of the screen choked on his breath, and both dry and wet tears stung his skin. They formed a thin layer of frost, and his chest seems to have a fire burning inside it, burning him, tearing his heart, cracking his lungs, an inferno that made him unable to breathe.

On the day of his resurrection, he had seen the withered white roses, but he hadn't seen the man who had carefully cut off every thorn, so even if he was sad, he was full of hope, and he knew that they would meet again one day.

But when this scene that he had never seen before was staged before his eyes, he knew what it was to have pain pierce his heart.

Had he experienced one tenth, one hundredth, one thousandth of Ning Zhou's pain?

But even if it was one tenth, one hundredth, or one thousandth of the pain, once he felt the same way, it was tantamount to torture.

When Ning Zhou had stepped out of the Garden of the Holy Tomb and walked to the cathedral at the highest point of the Vatican, Qi Leren looked at his back; when he knelt in front of the statue of Maria and drew a cross on his chest, Qi Leren looked at the side of his face; when the archangel with blazing wings was summoned to come here, he merged his strength with Ning Zhou, and he held the Sword of Judgment. Ning Zhou also held the virtual Sword of Judgment, and waved it hard in the direction of the rising sun, cutting open this dead field with one slash.

Amid the holy power that filled the sky, the gold and silver spots, and the hymns and music, this church seemed like a heaven on earth.

Qi Leren looked at his lover like a holy angel, but he couldn't help smiling proudly, even though the tears on his face had not dried.

But such a smile only stayed on his face for a moment.

In this glorious destruction, the holy field was touched by the power of the Devil, and the darkness hidden in the abyss was ready to move and quietly come to this pure land. The blazing angel possessed by Ning Zhou was attacked by the power of this dark demon and gradually dissipated, turning into falling feathers all over the sky. The strong wind swept into this world and woke it from its dream.

The power of holiness was cut off, and a red light flashed in his eyes. Ning Zhou covered his face painfully, clutching the Sword of Judgment and kneeling on the ground.

A narration appeared on the screen, making Qi Leren fall into ice:

[The child of the Lord of Destruction and the Holy Nun returned to the place where the story began, ending the Holy Nun’s life regret. These lovers, who once shared the same ideals and explored the mysteries of the world together, ended tragically. The power of destruction and the power of protection were doomed to clash. Perhaps, when chasing the ultimate source of power, whether a saint or a demon, you will eventually get lost in power and forget yourself...]

[A new destructive force has begun to wake, will he repeat the same mistakes? Or is it that a new miracle is faintly brewing in his body...]

Qi Leren collapsed in his chair, staring at the narration disappearing from the screen.

He thought that this world was crazy.

Otherwise, how could it treat Ning Zhou like this?

How could this gentle, kind-hearted believer who had devoted his whole life to fighting the Devils be a descendant of a Devil? And the power of that Devil was awakening in him...

Could Ning Zhou accept it?

Qi Leren trembled, afraid that he would not have the strength.

He couldn't imagine how a devout believer, who had just lost his lover and been excommunicated from the Holy See, could accept this truth. If there was a God in this world, how could He add another whip mark to a scarred person?

God, he has suffered so much pain, why do you want to break his back, so that he can't keep his last faith and pride?

Do you really love him? Have you really loved him? Will the believer not be subjected to irresistible temptations, and his faith in you will help him overcome these temptations. Isn't that what is written in the Canon?

Qi Leren couldn't say anything. He was just a passerby watching this tragedy happen, but he couldn't say a word.

This task had come to an end. After evacuating the residents of the Holy City and watching them follow the people of the Holy See to the distant Neverland, Qi Leren got on the aircraft and once again returned to the Village of Dusk. Here, he was faced with another choice: whether to follow Ning Zhou to continue the next task, or to stay in the Village of Dusk.

Without a doubt, Qi Leren chose to follow Ning Zhou.

Ning Zhou returned to Neverland. He wanted to go back to the Holy See and confess his decision to the Pope. Qi Leren waited for him at the Holy See’s stronghold outside Neverland, waiting three days and three nights.

The wind on the tundra was cold, and in the long polar night, the aurora brightened the sky in a mighty display. Qi Leren stood at the top of the valley and looked at the boundless world of ice and snow in the distance, but this beautiful scenery made him feel desperate.

He knew Ning Zhou would come out from the world that had once sheltered him and imprisoned him, but the fate imposed on him didn’t know what compassion was, and it would lead him to another bloody world, which was even more cruel than any before.

He was such a good person, but he bore such a cruel future, a future that could destroy his will.

His life seemed to be cursed, and he kept losing, and losing again, until there was nothing left to lose… When he was a teenager, he had lost his only relative, and when he grew up, he had lost his lover, and even the land of eternity that filled his soul had closed the door to him, even in the distant future, he would even lose himself.

The Passerby on the screen looked at the snow with a straight face, but the Qi Leren outside the screen burst into tears.

When you love someone, even if he is wronged only a little, it makes you feel too distressed.

His yearning heart could no longer be suppressed, and Qi Leren impatiently wanted to fly to Ning Zhou now, give him a hug, and tell him—at least he hasn't lost him yet.

Three days later, Ning Zhou returned, and they boarded the aircraft again, flying to the distant Sea of Tranquility desert and heading for the Underground Ant City.

At dawn, the sunshine outside the window fell on Ning Zhou's face through thick glass, and Qi Leren looked at him quietly. He did not tell him the story of "Qi Leren", as if he had forgotten that he had this deep love.

It seemed that he was neither sad nor forlorn, as if he had cured himself.

This calmness was a sort of despair.

On the 29th day after the task of the Holy Nun, Qi Leren, who had triggered the second part of the main task but was forced to part ways with Ning Zhou, got a system prompt:

[Party member Ning Zhou has died.]

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[razorblade180]

Shackles Finale: Free

[Part 12]

Destiny is a fickle thing. For some it’s real, and for others it’s as fake as fairy tales. No matter what however, time still goes on. Things still happen. Ruby was never one to think too hard on the topic despite all she’s been through. However, as she walked into Menagerie’s hospital soaking wet from the extreme downpour happening in the middle of the night, Ruby couldn’t help but wonder if it was destiny to test everyone’s resolve; or karma coming to collect.

Her self imposed mission had been going well. Adam cooperated, Blake planned ahead, and things progressed steadily. It should’ve stayed like that for three more months. Unfortunately things don’t always go as planned. Jacquelyn went into labor early, too early. The woman woke up today looking fit as a fiddle. Who could’ve guessed she would be fighting for her life today? Her, and her daughter?

Hospital staff were in a frenzy from the storm just like the public. It made getting to the back where everyone was without suspicion easy for Ruby. Certain doctors were notified ahead of time of the complexities of their patient and precautions had already been in place for Jacquelyn and company to have no disturbances. Though nobody factored in an unhealthy birth creating this island’s worst storms to date. Ruby made it to the sealed off waiting room. What should’ve been a haven of calm was another conflict. Blake stood arms folded and ears back in the way of guards and her conflicted father while Adam sat behind her, silent.

“You know I expected more from you, Saber. That goes double for you dad.”

The man frowned. “Blake, this wasn’t my-”

“We have held our end of the agreement.” Saber interjected, “Adam was to be free until the child was born. Not my problem that day came early.”

Blake grit her teeth. “You know damn well that’s not why I’m standing here right now!” She said through her teeth. His kid had just been born moments ago and just like that, she was rushed to intensive care. Meanwhile Jacquelyn was slipping in and out, her body failing her during the labor. “Let him see this through.”

“What good would it do him to hear terrible news? He’ll lash out for all we know. That can not happen in a hospital!”

“You just want to kick him while he’s down!”

“AND FOR GOOD REASON!”

Okay, Ruby had enough. “HEY!” She yelled, gaining everyone’s attention. She brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I set up generators across the island. No one's gonna lose power. I also told people Menagerie’s guards were making their rounds to make sure everyone was accounted for. I don’t mean to overstep being an outsider and all but…” her eyes burrowed into Saber’s “Get to work.” It wasn’t kind or even right necessarily, but Ruby didn’t care.

Feeling the pressure, Saber made the wise decision to take his people and leave. Ghira looked at Blake with guilt in his eyes for letting it get this far. “Listen I-”

“You know I understand mom not wanting anything to do with this, but I didn’t expect this from you. It’s like you’re trying to create every reason to push him back into old habits and make all this worthless. We will hold up our end of the bargain, so teach them what you tell me and have some patience.”

Ghira didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. There was caution, and then there was insensitivity. He had no words, just a nod before walking away.

Ruby grabbed his arm in passing. “She knows this wasn’t your call. Blake is stressed. Your house still has power. Ilia is with Kali trying to calm down Sienna and Sun is helping check on people. Maybe you should go home too?” Ruby smiled softly. She knew a worried father when she saw one. Ghira needed something to do.

“I appreciate the concern Mrs. Rose, but I think I’ll just stand guard outside this room.”

“Understood, and hey, things will work themselves out.” Ruby let him go and headed from one worried feline to the next. “You know he’s not to blame right? He’s just…trying to keep everyone connected.”

Blake let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that, and I also know he’s not going to lose me. But right now I really need everyone to not jump the gun. Thanks for keeping the peace. Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to your leadership skills.”

“I just got snippy with faunus officers on their own island. Really testing my boundaries with my status as an important huntress across Remnant.” Ruby patted Blake on the back. “You should go check in on the doctors. I’ll do my job watching our person of interest.”

“Okay.” Blake looked back at Adam. He stayed quiet throughout all of this, eyes closed and arms crossed. He must’ve figured the best thing he could do right now is not look threatening. “I’ll let you know first if anything changes okay?”

He still didn’t move but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Thank you.” He heard Blake run off in a hurry while the sound of chair legs rubbed the ground in front of him. Adam opened his one good eye and saw Ruby sitting in front of him with her scroll in hand.

“You know…I can’t remember when a day has felt this long.” Ruby sighed, “Moments like these is enough to just make you want stop time ya know?”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“Wasn’t giving any. Just venting I guess. My husband sent me a text. I’m missing a very important arrival today; not that it’s your fault by any means. I just know it’s gonna be grounds for a conversation later that might get feisty, again.”

Adam could see how tired Ruby was. The normally energetic woman was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t take long missions then?”

“Pfft nah. I don’t regret helping where I can. Besides I didn’t know until after I took the mission. Things will work themselves out though. That’s how family works. Believe in each other and the impossible happens.”

“I know what you’re doing. It’s not gonna work. Just stop talking okay?”

Ruby pursed her lips. Years of leadership didn’t prepare her talks like these. She had to say something though. It was hard to explain, but Ruby could feel the importance of this moment. Good or bad news, bottling this up would make anyone go insane. Ruby reached down her shirt and lifted her necklace. It was a silver cross with red roses wrapped around it. She took it off and dangled it on her fingers, scooting closer to Adam.

“My dad and uncle gave this to me on my birthday. They said…sometimes you need a piece of faith when you don’t have any yourself. I’m not really religious but apparently my mom used to pray after she knew there was nothing left she could do herself. Hehe, it’s a Rose mentality.” Ruby put it in Adam’s hand and curled it. “Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s pretty cool that you are your own kind of rose. Makes me feel like we’re connected in a way. Keep that. I know it’ll fit you.”

Adam remained quiet. He stared down at the trinket in his hand until his vision blurred. His body trembled. Slowly he clenched the cross. “I have no right to pray for anything. If destiny or whatever you want to call it exists then it’s only fair I get punished.”

Ruby frowned, “Hey that’s-” she cut herself short, not expecting Adam to put his other hand over the cross; his forehead pressing against them as he closed his eyes.

“Punish me.” He uttered weakly. “Me, not them. Leave everyone else out of it.” The first and only prayer he’ll ever make. His life could be at destiny’s whim forever as long as the ones who fought for him didn’t get burned.

Ruby stood from her seat and knelt down, grabbing his hands and joining the prayer. All while Ghira watched silently from the entrance.

For several hours, It was out of everyone’s hands. A roll of the dice, luck of the draw, fate, gods, destiny, whatever anyone wanted to call it; that was the only thing left and no one dared to keep track of the time out of anxiety. It was a scary, humbling feeling for certain. It was also the purest reminder that life wasn’t fair. Bad things happen to good people, hard work is left with nothing, and sometimes… a sinner’s prayers get heard.

The doors flung open with Blake breathless. “Adam…” she panted, eyes bigger than the smile on her face. “She’s-” the tears shed caught her off guard. The two roses stared blankly before Adam stood. Blake moved out of the doorway and he took it as a sign. ‘Run.’ Adam ran and no one dared to stop him.

“Back room.” Blake said, walking to her father. Ruby got up as well and joined the two. Blake looked at the red faced girl. The feline giggled softly while wiping Ruby’s tears. “And here I thought I knew how big your heart was?”

Ruby laughed as she tried to stop sniffling. “It’s not what it looks like. Seeing him sit there with his demons like that, it reminded me of how my dad and uncle qrow used to look when mom was brought up. Sorry, got a little compromised.”

“Welcome to the club. Dad, sorry I-”

Ghira wrapped his arm around Blake. “Don’t apologize. I tell you to take things slow and yet I tried rushing to the end of this. I’m sorry. I can’t say what lies in store for Adam next, but I suppose…I’ll have to keep more of an open mind. He’s earned that much.”

Ruby shook her head and sighed. “If I’m being honest, personally I think everyone has been a bit silly. Including my lovable sis. You all make it sound like he’s been trouble free for six months when that isn’t the case. I can’t say if he’s been perfect or not but the fact that Remnant thinks he died at Argus has to mean something, right? I certainly can’t link him to any world threatening incidents since then. He’s been minding his business for a couple years now. Is locking him up really gonna change anything? I mean it wouldn’t matter if Cinder was in or out of jail for me. I’d still be wary and pissed. Your men’s feelings about him wouldn’t change because of a cell. But hey, that’s just me.”

Ruby put her hands behind her hand and walked off. “I’m gonna step out for a moment and make a call.” She looked out a window. To her surprise, the rain had stopped. Ruby dialed Yang’s number. “Hey sis! Beautiful day to start a family. So, what’s my precious little niece’s name?”

xxxx

Adam reached the back room and pushed the door open to find Jacquelyn in bed, startled by his entrance before giving him a grin. Her skin had a sickly yellow dinge to it and she was covered in sweat. Still she smiled, holding a small infant as doctors looked at vitals and did their work.

“Awe, have you been crying? I’m sorry. Guess we gave you a fright.”

One of the nurses looked at the maiden like she was crazy. “Ma’am you slipped into a coma. Please don’t try and move around much.”

“I was a little tired, that's all. Heh…guess we finally found something I’m not good at? That’s un- oh…” Adam put his arms around her and the baby. Odd, to think he could hold something this gently? His presence soothed her into leaning into the embrace, humming quietly to both him and the new arrival. A premature baby with red hair, and tiny horns.

The doctor, naturally sworn to confidentiality, watched from the sidelines. “I’d like to congratulate you with confidence, but these two aren’t out of the woods yet. While I expect Jacquelyn to bounce back with time, your daughter is pretty frail. We have her stable for the time being but the heart is a complex organ even when fully developed. We’re going to have to keep her for a while just to make sure she’ll grow up healthy. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power for her.”

“Thank you.” Adam looked at his daughter’s round face. She opened her eyes to reveal two pools or bright blue. “Hmmm.”

“Something wrong?” Jacquelyn asked.

“She’ll have a hard time, with these features going for her. I was hoping she’d look more like you.”

“Oh hush. She’s beautiful like this. Though maybe I am a little jealous she doesn’t have my hair. Still, real big fan of those eyes.” She kissed his cheek. “We’ll do our best and then some.”

The doctor pulled out some paperwork. “Now then, I’m going to need a name. Her record won’t be too expensive in terms of…background history, but she’ll need the basics as best as possible. Especially in her condition.”

“Wanna name her after your mother, or even your sister?”

Adam shook his head, “I think we already have enough namesakes. Let her be free from that. You decide. I was never really good at these kinds of things.”

“Oooo okay. Don’t come crying later if you think of a good one. A free spirited name for our little kid.” Jacquelyn giggled to herself. “Got it. How about we name her…”

“Hehe, That’s a perfect name.” The two roses spoke.

[extenebris]

fern :   does your muse believe in magic or cosmic forces ,   or are they more likely to think their life is ultimately a matter of their own control ?

Ah, this one is complicated. Literally, yes, Salem is a mage and believes in the existence of magic. On a more spiritual sense though, he has a conflicted view of the guiding forces in the world. Since there’s no real canon worldbuilding about the Loptrian faith (I only pull from the games and occasionally dev notes; manga, novels, 4koma, etc. are non-canon to me), I’ve been building it myself. All of this is headcanon.

The Loptrians see Loptous as being paternalistic: he protects and provides for them, but is strict about loyalty and what one must do to remain in his favor. Children are offered to him regularly because their blood is the cleanest, and those who survive the grueling rituals are believed to be Chosen by Loptous. He grants them life and a fragment of his power, and commands them to use that power only to carry out His Will. From the very beginning, the children are made to believe that their life had never been guaranteed, and that they should be grateful to their benevolent god for gifting it to them. Because they possess a fragment of his power, they are also taught that Loptous exists within them and can follow their every action, so he knows when they stray from their paths. While there is reverence for Loptous, it’s this fear of an all-knowing, all-powerful god that controls his followers.

Salem bought into this belief for over twenty years, obeyed everything that the Bishops and High Priests said, and followed all of the rituals outlined in the ancient texts. His path was a short one, but it had been laid out plainly for him by his god: aid the liberation efforts and the resurrection of the old Empire. If he were to die along the way, then it would be a preordained sacrifice that meant that Loptous needed the power that he lent to Salem returned to him in that moment. Salem was supposed to be satisfied with this fate, and for the most part, he was.

This understanding of the Way of the World began to crack after Salem fled from the church and did not die. This was a difficult reality for him to stomach, since he had witnessed the way other Loptrians had found him and his friend when they secretly sought aid from a Bragi convent. There was no other explanation for this, other than that Loptous had conveyed this information to the Archbishop, who then sent people to apprehend the traitor. So Salem had expected the same horror when he ran. But he survived the first attack, and was brought into the protection of a band of thieves. He expected an invasion of the Dandelion’s hideout, and the gruesome deaths of his tentative allies, but the Loptrians never found him again. He awaited Loptous’ judgment to appear in a nightmare, and hardly slept, but still nothing came. He had broken from the path that had been made for him, disobeyed god, and yet there was no eternal hell behind the briars. The world that he had known fell apart before his eyes.

Despite this, Salem still wavers on what he believes. He isn’t sure whether his fate has always been his to control, or if being struck with a lifetime of aimlessness is the punishment Loptous deemed fitting for him. Sometimes he still thinks he hears the laughter of the fell god in the casting of Jormungand, or that he’s still being puppeted by the very blood he possesses. Other days, he finds it easier to believe that he had been shackled and is now free to live as he pleases, without the superstition that the church had imposed on him.

[sureshdevnani]

The magic of motivational speakers: why are they so popular abroad and not in demand in UAE?

You are more than you can imagine! Present day is yours and you will achieve your victory! If you see the goal and sweep away the obstacles, any dream can be realized in less than a year!

 Already have a desire to work harder and earn more? No?

 Then perhaps the magic of the best global conference speaker in Manila, Philippines, is not for you.

 But in the United States and Japan, these guys manage to collect stadiums and make millions, creating a funny pun: teaching others how to be Success is much more profitable than trying to become successful.

Let's look at why the best global conference speakers in the world are so popular abroad, and what they lack to win Ukrainians' hearts.

 What are motivational speakers?

 Motivational speakers (or orators) and the best speaker on happiness are an explosive mixture of the preacher, stand-up comedian and showman. The mechanism of influence on the listeners' psyche is quite complex; it involves the use of the speaker's charisma in combination with elements of NLP, hypnotic techniques (which makes the speakers look like the preachers of "new churches").

 The following factors create a successful showman in this area: 

 Charisma: This is a crucial requirement; a person must be energetic and "charged" to release energy into the hall. This the process is known as "motivation" because the best motivational speaker on wellness transfers his power to the audience, inspires people to be active, and creates a feeling of thirst for activity (not always in the right direction, unfortunately).

 The presence of an ideological and philosophical platform: books, memoirs, films, and other works in which the author outlined his philosophy and now retells it aloud.

 Difficult fate: In most cases, people are "caught" by the stories of those who "got up from their knees," "started from scratch," etc. Therefore, the best motivational speaker on happiness must have an exciting biography with numerous kinks (perhaps invented to increase the drama).

 Demonstrative success (or its imitation): The overwhelming majority of speakers like to lead by example. Therefore, it is essential to instill in people confidence that their "guru" is the standard of success. Even if this is not the case, it is necessary to create an appropriate image in public.

Investment in advertising and powerful promotion: In countries where this type of show is popular, virtual keynote speaker spends millions of dollars on billboards, TV advertisements, YouTube commercials, and other methods of attracting audiences.

 And one more important fact: in the presence of all these factors, fame and popularity comes to the elite. The niche of a motivational speaker in the USA is trendy and competitive; therefore, out of a thousand Happiness keynote speaker conducting seminars on self-development and self-improvement, only a few become famous. Thus, the sixth and critical factor is the ability to trigger a viral popularity effect, that is, to impress the public enough so that people begin to advise each other to attend the event.

 Who is the best motivational speaker on wellness talking about?

 The essence of their public speaking is to teach people how to live "right." This "right" means three main components: Achieve self-realization and personal growth. It is around self-development and the development that most speeches and philosophies revolve.

 Simultaneously, each mental health keynote speaker has his approach to understanding the criteria

for these growth and achievement methods. Still, everyone agrees that the primary goal of a person in life is continuous development.

 Learn to enjoy life and enjoy it: Another "classic aspect," which wholly and entirely fits into the philosophy of the "American Dream." Resilience keynote speaker tells people how to relate to life and how to take everything from it.

 Get high income and break out of the regular work-home cycle. The fact is that "labor slavery" in the United States is even more stringent than all, and for most people, it is the most cherished dream.

Therefore, telling the audience about the ways to break free from the shackles of hired labor; the best motivational speaker on wellness in UAE touches the very resonant strings of the soul.

 Conventionally, all topics that motivational speakers raise can be summarized as the following structure:

 Simultaneously, performances are a fusion of philosophy, psychology, beliefs, and management, creating a relatively popular and superficial cocktail of information. The main "trick" is that the best motivational and inspirational speakers in UAE never dig deep and do not provide detailed information, but only voice general ideas that look smart, dashing, and mysterious. Most of the questions are necessarily considered in the context of psychology. 

 The philosophical aspect implies a programmed life position and a certain system of views on certain problems. The speaker finds a certain optimal, in his opinion, way of looking at things and imposes it on his listeners.

 The managerial aspect is intended to bring practice and specificity into the "teaching." Speaking about various specific techniques (for example, time management, risk assessment, decision making, etc.), the speakers present these methods as a kind of "super-weapon" that will help the audience to turn into "supermen."

[sanoiro]

Meta on The Relationships of Marclo & Evenigstar

Something I posted on Twitter in regards to why we were more lenient on Eve than Marcus and Lucifer’s relationship with her. 

Indeed both relationships were disturbing. 

It's interesting how in 4x09 Lucifer admits that he entered in a relationship for his own selfish reasons while he knew it wouldn't work but that's also the major difference. Lucifer and Eve both manipulated each other to the degree, that was the driving force of their relationship. The same though happened between Marcus and Chloe. We can suggest that Chloe acted in the same way with Marcus from her admission to Ella in 3x23. So why did we like Lucifer and Eve, at least more, than Marcus and Chloe’s relationship? Is it because we see Chloe as the victim while we cannot bring ourselves to believe Lucifer was at fault and perhaps because he is a man?

Well, that's a good question and the answer I believe lies in a very simple thing. Intentions. 

Lucifer in comparison to Marcus was destroying himself rather attempting to take down others. His guilt as expressed at the end of 4x09 carries the answer. Yes, he did enter a relationship that was doomed but he did it in a moment of weakness hoping that it would save him from drowning, hoping that it *would* work without though harming Eve or those around her. 

Marcus, on the other hand, shot Chloe. He was that far gone and there was no consideration of her wellbeing despite his question later on near the end of 3x24. On the contrary, Lucifer still attempted to shelter everyone around him and pushed Eve away again as a self-loathing act and not due to cruelty towards her. 

Now Eve despite her of misguided influence on Lucifer she still retained an innocence over the simple reasoning that desires justified everything. It was wrong, yes, and we can see perhaps why Marcus grew up to assume that actions of that kind were justified to an extent. For example, Marcus never regretted Abel's murder while we know from Eve that see perceived Abel to be the gentle one. How a mother could ever say that her child - Marcus - deserved what he got? An eternity in Hell...

So we can go on and on about the differences and the similarities here between all characters but the actual difference in the second case (Eveningstar) is not just the conviction that their feelings were real to an extent but the fact that they actually believed they could benefit the other and not just exploit them. I remind you that Lucifer thought at some point that the prophecy was about Eve so he didn't have Marcu’s clarity pr at least what Marcus believed his clarity was.  The benefits on the first case (Marclo) were for Marcus his mortality and in the case of Chloe in order to push away Lucifer emotionally and perhaps even get back to him on a degree. Yes, Chloe also wanted to reinvent herself in a way but that's something that will not be discussed here (See 3x22). 

In Lucifer’s and Eve’s case their relationship was based on what I like to call ‘the raft’. Eve wanted to escape a preconceived world where her being in Heaven meant that she had no more choices, no second chances and no way to make any more decisions for her own self. That, by the way, might be something the WR will revisit as it seems from Charlotte and Eve, nothing is set in stone and second chances are given even after death if you can find a way, of course, to return to Earth… *hint*. 

Finally, for Lucifer, Eve was a distraction and a slowly sinking raft from the conviction that he was unlovable. Unfortunately for him, everything started to go wrong when in 4x09 he realised that Eve’s perception of him and his then recent actions were not normal but distorted and tragically the same applied on Chloe’s views but in a different way.

Amenadiel at a point says that he does not want to see Lucifer getting back to his old Devil self but in reality, Lucifer was always Lucifer he just had fewer people to show him right from wrong and to actually care about them in order to be open to change. The change was not his destructive ways but his violent self-destructive actions the ones that actually led him to Hell. 

Therefore, it was all about what every individual wanted to get out of each relationship. The first was uneasy and if you see the deleted scene in 3x23 not sincere which explains the events of 3x24 but the second was a desperate plea on what it could have been as both characters tried to free the other from the shackles they believed they were bound on. Lucifer freed again Eve from her predestined fate which she so craved by following her every desire to the most unhealthy way. At the same time, Eve believed that by pushing Lucifer to act out in a cruel way she was freeing him from his self imposed bounds due to mainly the Detective... Both were wrong of course... 

[sagebodisattva]

Fatalism in the Modern World

So let's talk a little about Fatalism, a philosophical position that suggests the subservience of all activities and happenings to fate. Fatalism generally refers to any of the following ideas: The view that we are powerless to do anything other than what we actually do. Included in this is that man has no power to influence the future, or indeed, his own actions. An attitude of resignation in the face of some future event or events which are thought to be inevitable. That acceptance is appropriate, rather than resistance against inevitability. So these ideas are closely related to determinism and defeatism, which are mindsets that are associated with pessimism and cynicism, which are indicative of grounded positions rooted in the dark spectrum of ill psychologies.

So, right out the box, we can see why these presuppositions appeal to the average, sardonic man. It relieves him of all responsibility, makes him feel less emasculated by his own disempowered disposition, enables the pathos of his hapless condition, and helps him feel less guilty about his own inaction, apathy and any possible immoral behaviors; assuming that he has a shred of conscience that causes self reflection and recapitulation. It's not safe to assume that. This is a very degenerative state of existence for a human being to resign himself to. It's basically throwing in the towel and giving up. It is often a position that develops as a result of a long journey into the depths of the external, which will always, without exception, conclude with disappointment and failure to assuage the common anxieties that plague the modern man. Indeed, so many of us are like hungry ghosts, wandering around in vain, searching longingly for something to fulfill our desperation... and we can just imagine how the hungry ghost's search will turn out, for there is nothing found externally that will ever bring it lasting peace.

But, in a way, the fatalist is right: with this mindset and attitude, and the refusal to investigate and probe deeper into the introspective source, fate will command your path. For those that are content to hit the cruise control and ride their existential agency out on auto pilot, your course will be ruled by destiny, no question about it. But. for those who have done a little deeper experimentation and investigation into the source of awareness, the only factor that cannot be disputed due to the discernible empirical first hand self evidence of such, these suggestions are utter nonsense, and irresponsible dereliction.

"We are powerless to do anything other than what we actually do."

What is that? Does this actually mean anything, or is this just a hungry ghost moaning about his bleak plight? What else would you hope to do, other then what you can actually do? Maybe you are getting caught up on the inference of the concept of 'actuality', of which, is comparable to defining one's limits and possibilities to a shackle around one's ankle. What is actual is that you are aware of an experience of a reality; beyond that, anything else proposed will either contribute to weighing you down, or will serve to facilitate your freedom from self imposed limitations. It's as simple as that.

So much of how everything is assembled is arranged so to fortify your disempowerment, and at the core of this marginalization is the dictating narrator, the constant chatter of the thinking mind, which reinforces the disempowerment by continually sustaining it through stubborn attachment to dogmatic narrative; external verification substantiated by way of reflective aspects and validation via confirmation bias. All of this gives the impression that the restricting parameters are not the result of self imposed limitations, but are, in fact, the unbendable laws that one has no choice but to abide. And of course, this assumed set up fits well with most people's predilection, so it's a self fulfilling prophecy and a cycle that eventually reinforces itself with little or no provocation. The notion that you are powerless to do anything other then what you can actually do, in itself, is self defeatism, for it helps to revert the awareness into conformity to the idea of powerlessness as the accepted normative condition, while promoting the idea of the severe limitation of the existential agency; casting a cloud of weakness, and hence distrust and disdain, to the very aspect that is most sure, most immediate, and most self evident.

With this as a mindset, which we can liken to a harnessed horse with blinders, what kind of conclusion about reality will be realized that isn't in deference to some sort of external phenomena? This is the conditioning that must be unlearned in order to take responsibility and command of your reality. Things are not as solid, fixed and rigid as we fancy them to be. Anything and everything, in your idea of an outer space contextualization, was originally sourced from a superpositional potentiality. There is no such thing as actual phenomenal content; for, anything manifested, whether it be an object, a force, a law, or a material phenomena, is empty unsubstantial transient and impermanent. Increased lucidity reveals the hidden designs of these projections as sourced from pure potential, which is the foundation of physics and the source of all manifestations. And pure potential doesn't follow any rules; it produces rules. Pure potential isn't bound to anything as limited and contextual as determinism. If determinism does have any role as a factor in a produced reality, then it is only as a supportive role, conditional to, and framed within, a manifestation with borders; of which, is rooted in pure potential, which is limitless, undefinable, immeasurable and ineffable.

We can become powerful when we position ourselves to be unbounded by actuality. This requires meta awareness and detachment from the identification with the persona; which, cannot influence the future or even it's own actions, due to being immersed in disempowerment. Indeed, only those whose mind's are untethered from the rigid confines of the worldly ego can influence the conditions of the present moment; which is all there really is, in truth; the ideas of past and future being only illusory concepts, with no basis in reality, which is the false premise upon which the idea of determinism, is constructed.

And, of course, the untethered awareness can also influence the actions of the persona, which is afforded to those who are not slaves to the impulses, desires, and visceral demands of the physicality. Without this, it's understandable why an ego would resign itself to the idea of an inevitable future, for it is powerless in this state of being, and with this program as it's conditioning, resignation does seem like the appropriate response, because mere thoughts and actions performed by a world based persona are not going to make any difference. Yet, on a sort of side note, if we consider pure potentiality, in a sense, the fundamental essence could be said to be both eternally always so in superposition, yet deterministic, for the oneness of all that is, while non-committed and free of all qualities, is always as such, determinedly so. And the cosmic Maya of time, change, development, condition, and circumstance, while of illusion, are, at the same time, as illusion, equally forever present, never created nor destroyed, perpetually happening instantly and simultaneously.

But this is a bit tangential to the specific matter of a persona in delusion, struggling with paradoxical absurdity. But it does highlight that illusion does have both the qualities of determinism and free will, but much of it will depend on whether the mind is over the matter, or if the matter is above the mind. When the matter is over the mind, the persona will be at the mercy of fate, as it is identifying with illusion instead of knowing itself as the source of awareness; and as such, will be subject to conditions, which are bound to a cause; and causes, under these conditions, are tied up in dependent origination. Brining the mind over matter is to break these rules, much as a hacker can compromise a program, and this leads to the wisdom of knowing that, as lucidity reveals, illusion is a production of the mind, and as such, ironically, there is nothing to change, nothing to command, nothing to gain, and nothing to fix; for what good does it do to tinker with an illusion if one is already awake and aware that it is the source of these illusions, which only beg to be changed, commanded, gained or fixed, when one is in delusion? But, if you are not of the mind to take responsibility for reality, and are resigned to let illusion steer the fate of your ego, then also in this case, there is nothing for you to do about it; and while this buries one deeper in illusion and makes it much harder to self recognize, perhaps it can reveal the flaw in the fatalistic reasoning.

It's called the "Idle argument", which states that if something is fated, then it would be pointless or futile to make any effort to bring it about, so why not just be idle instead? The points of the argument are stated as follows:

If it is fated for you to recover from an illness, then you will recover whether you call a doctor or not. Likewise, if you are fated not to recover, you will not do so whether you call a doctor or not. But either it is fated that you will recover from this illness, or it is fated that you will not recover. Therefore, it is futile to consult a doctor.

Indeed, if you are resigned to fatalism and a deterministic belief system, then really, there is no reason for you to do anything at all, for whatever it is that you do, or don't do, is already determined, and since it's already determined, there isn't a choice to make, a casual action to perform, an effect to influence, nor any conditions to change; unto yourself, others, or to the world. So you might as well stay in bed all day; and don't worry, if you do, it was already determined to be that way by fate. So does this really seem like a sound philosophy? Or just an elaborate device designed as an excuse to not do anything; or if one does something, to not take any responsibility for doing it, or not doing it, as the case may be.

But what about logical fatalism and the argument from bivalence? Well these are very antiquated arguments, and not that difficult to pick apart due to being based on weak limited tools of reasoning. Logic does have it’s application, but it is hardly an all encompassing be all and end all, believe it or not. The key idea of logical fatalism is that there is a body of true propositions (statements) about what is going to happen, and these are true regardless of when they are made.

So, for example, if it is true today that tomorrow there will be a baseball game, then there cannot fail to be a baseball game tomorrow, since otherwise it would not be true today that such a baseball game will take place tomorrow. What if the baseball game gets rained out? Then what? Then what was true today fails to be true tomorrow due to an unforeseen factor. Furthermore, to suppose that there is a body of predetermined true propositions fails, due to indefiniteness and the lack of identification of the agency where these propositions are given context of truth, outside of the subject that is asserting such presuppositions. Through logic, one may assign a truth value to a proposition before something is shown to be true or not, but one cannot assign a definite one. How could that be justified?

I hate to say it, but much of these notions of predetermination, destiny, and absolute truth value, stink of theological concepts. Logical fatalism assumes a perennial set of all propositions, which exist without being proposed by anyone in particular, and for that reason alone, are incompatible with logic. Where are these predetermined definite predictions assembled? Predetermined by what? By whom? Where are they located? When were they made? How were they determined? Why are they predicted as such? If you want to assert the pre-existence of truth in the future then you need some basis to substantiate it, and so, on what are you substantiating it upon? Pre-existence of truth in regards to what? What is it pre-existing exactly? Relative to what? Pre-existing to the subject that makes all this shit up? Yeah, of course. That's always the underlying motive, isn't it? If there really is pre-existing truth out there, independent of the ones who define it, then this begs for explanation. By explaining that it is the objective configuration of a material universe doesn't explain one damn thing, since you cannot substantiate the context and origination of this so called universe. We assume a universe exists because we experience it? Ah well, then it sounds like the only thing you can be really sure of at the very least is that you have an awareness of appearances. Beyond that, you don't really know jack shit. You are just telling stories about appearances, not much different then theology.

So pre-determined truths exist independently of the very thing that provides you with the ability to determine a truth? Fascinating. And I suppose the universe has it's own story independent of the one who is telling the story about it? This universe does seem like a great mythology, but if you wanna push the truth of its independent existence, then authenticate that it's independent please. Oh right, you can't do that. So then this whole idea ceases to be logical determinism because it is depending on fallacious arguments; and what good is logic if it is only a tool of an inconsequential subject that is a byproduct of something that exists independently of it? Doesn't really sound like all that great of a tool at all. I'd prefer a tool that exists independently of me. I think it might be somehow more reliable since it's a tool that's not crafted by my own bias. Sounds handy!

Then there is the so called “principle of bivalence”; the idea that propositions, that it to say, statements of opinion or value judgment, can only either be true or false, absolutely, with no in between; which is a silly proposition in itself.

Here are some statements that can be either true or false:

Pepperoni pizza is the best type of pizza when seasoned with garlic.

Irishmen that own lawnmowers don't drink alcohol.

Dogs with leather collars chase squirrels.

It is not certain whether or not a healthy diet will result in weight loss.

Should I continue? This principle is just another tired presupposition of objectivity and absolutism, which is attempting establish these theories as default axioms. If demonstrating how it's not accurate to say that a proposition can only either be true or false, due to ambiguity, uncertain variables and the indeterminate nature of a future truth, is in discord with classical logic, then logic really is a weak tool with very limited application.

I will further deconstruct logic in the future, but for now, I'll wrap this up by pointing out that so much of the motives behind fatalism, as is also the case with most philosophies, ideologies, theologies and mythologies out there, involve the usual attempt to dismiss the interconnectivity of reality with the mind, and to keep the externalized monkey in the mirror syndrome conditioning intact. It's rarely ever just said outright, for they don't even wanna draw attention to it by even mentioning it, but instead, it is indirectly implied through various elaborate philosophical confections, complex mathematical equations, intriguing scientific postulations, cloak and dagger conspiracy theories and fantastical theological allegorical parables. Yes, there are many different fashions of distractions and diversions, but all of them share in common the aim to misdirect the attention away from itself and to fixate on the perceptibles, all of which serve to reinforce the conditioning of the disempowered mind that is in self imposed submission to matter. Will you take the necessary steps to examine this condition, discover it's secrets and free yourself? Or will you simply become a modern day fatalist, resigned to a destiny that is out of your hands, living a life of a hungry ghost, stuck in a medium of predetermined stifled helpless desperation?

[madara-fate]

do you think neji's death was solely for the purpose to bring naruto and hinata together? i absolutely detest this idea and hate when antis use this against nh saying that "hinata finally got her prize thanks to her cousin's death"

Well no, there was more to it than that. If it was solely for the purpose of playing cupid, then Kishi wouldn’t have brought back the bird motif that had been used with Neji since the Chuunin exams. Let me break it down.

During Neji’s fight against Naruto, because of his experiences as a member of the Branch family of the Hyuuga, he firmly believed that people were forever bound to one pre-destined path, just as he was shacked to “an inescapable destiny” due to the mark on his forehead:

He considered himself to be akin to a bird in a cage; captured and forever devoid of free will:

However, after his loss, Naruto proved that even a loser like him could defeat a genius like Neji. Thereby indicating to Neji that perhaps fate was not so unshakeable; perhaps even a captured bird, if it fought hard enough, would be able to obtain its freedom once more - to soar in the skies and do things on its own terms:

Neji began to fully start seeing things from this perspective once he learned the truth about his father from Hiashi. He learned that Hizashi was not forced into dying for the Main Branch; despite still harbouring a deep resentment for the Main Branch, Hizashi chose to sacrifice his life for the sake of his brother. It was something he decided by his own free will, on his own terms, and this was a foreign concept to him:

However, it was still a decision he reached by himself, because he wanted to protect his son, his brother, his family and his village. And in doing so, he broke free from the destiny of the Hyuuga, and chose his own fate, his own destiny:

This was something that Neji emulated when he decided to sacrifice his life in order to save Hinata and Naruto:

Just like his father before him, Neji also used to have issues with the people he sacrificed his life for, yet he did so without hesitation or regret, because they had now become his precious friends and family. He remembered Naruto’s words from their previous confrontation, and how they freed him from the shackles of his curse, because they inspired him to no longer believe that everyone was bound to one predetermined destiny; Naruto’s words allowed him to believe that he was capable of making his own choices, and that’s exactly what he did:

He chose to sacrifice his life to save his precious comrade and cousin, and in doing so, Neji finally truly escaped from the shackles of his curse, and understood the freedom of being able to choose your death to protect those who are dear to you:

And as Genma insinuated after Neji’s defeat to Naruto during the Chuunin exams, Neji was finally able to open the cage he was confined in with his beak, and became a free bird, able to fly freely in the sky - because his final act was one which signified his free will :)

So you can see how he came full circle. After his defeat at the hands of Naruto, the symbolism of the bird signified his new found freedom from from what was essentially his own self imposed shackles:

And after sacrificing himself to save both Naruto and Hinata, the motif of the bird returned, because it once again symbolised how he was free, he had a choice, and was choosing his own fate:

Neji’s death wasn’t simply done as a means of playing cupid for Naruto and Hinata, there was far more to it than that. It was about Neji making the most of his free will in order to save the people who were important to him.

[exploredreamscape]

Feed the moon. How does the moon feed on us ? Our bodies are merely discarded underground to hide us from its gaze. We see nefarious things in death for this very reason. The moon is the emperor of stones, tides and many other elements. It rules over our home, forever attached to it by its orbit. The moon is an occupier, a deceitful guest. It uses trickery and illusions to keep us under. But the moon truly is a monument of fright, of might. Its cunning eye imposed cataclysms upon our people for millenia. The moon will come closer to Earth and its jaws will sink into Earth and it will feast on our blood and flesh. Why does the moon feed on us ? I have no recollections of other roaming stars having such an appetite for organic life. Perhaps we angered the great godly celestial body that is the moon and it is now carrying out our extermination. Oh, many poets and dreamers have been seduced by its alluring sight and they often lauded its mystical properties. How wrong they were ! If you see good tidings in the moon’s influences, then it has already made a fool out of you ! The moon is a silent tyrant, it hearkened to the tranceful chants of our ancestors and came to rob us of our lives ! Food for the moon. Do not trust the moon, for the moon only replicates our great sun’s warmth and light to deceive us ! There is darkness all around ! Can’t you see ? The kingdom of darkness and despair the moon thrusts us into ! Pay close attention to the dark omens. It is not too late to escape this fate. You are not doomed to feed the dead globe your life essence. Refuse to be its slave. Break free from these shackles. The first step to do is to be conscious of its pull and to create a protection that will liberate you from being in thrall to it ! Reflect upon the manipulation of the higher beings and learn from the darkness before the darkness learns about you.