#Symbolizes the cycle of destruction and re-creation

[fadingstudentbananacookie]

Aegon II Targaryen - The Last Dragonlord

Mother / Maia Baia, House of the Dragon, Fire & Blood / George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Sword / George R.R. Martin, Bhagavad Gita / Vyasa, Sister Sable / T. Mountebank

The Coronation of Aegon II by Basitien Lecouffe DeHarme The Depiction of A Pheonix by Friedrich Justin Bertuch Ouroboros by zarathus Battle of Rook's Rest by iasve Baela Targaryen and Moondancer by Dough Wheatley

#He Who Carries His Mother's Defiance #If the Targaryens are about Fire & Blood #The Hightowers are about Defiance #And Aegon is both of them #Aegon's flight on Sunfyre after the battle at Rook's Rest was literally his rebirth #He rose from the ashes of death #aegon ii targaryen #battle at Rook's Rest #sunfyre #rhaenys the queen who never was #meleys #baela targaryen #moondancer #the cannibal #vhagar #grey ghost #house of the dragon #hotd #team green #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #web weaving #say what you want about him #But this guys did a full 180 during the Dance #The pheonix #Symbolizes rebirth and rebellion #Ouroboros #Symbolizes the cycle of destruction and re-creation #dance of the dragons

[daemonishy]

Ouroboros is a gnostic and alchemical symbol

that expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual,

which never disappear but

perpetually change form,

in an eternal cycle of destruction

and re-creation.

#tears of the kingdom #totk #zelda #zelda tears of the kingdom #my art #illustration #totk spoilers #totk fanart #tears of the kingdom fanart #zelda fanart #light dragon #silent princess #legend of zelda #loz tears of the kingdom #loz spoilers #loz fanart

[gh0st-4ss]

Ouroboros

, emblematic serpent of ancient Egypt and Greece represented with its tail in its mouth, continually devouring itself and being reborn from itself. A gnostic and alchemical symbol, Ouroboros expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation.

#something something the concept of rebirth the cycle of life and death and vicious circles #mark hoffman #saw #ouroboros #gh0st4ss #art tag #forgot that I can post shit here too hi guys hi #also hello saw enjoyers

[jlmichigan]

_ceri_price_costume on Instagram recently shared details of Jade's Bone Reaver costume:

What's really cool to me is the Ouroboros (snake eating its tail) shoulder clasps, a detail I hadn't previously noticed. The Ouroboros, according to Britannica, "expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation." So, this is the natural cycle of life, death, rebirth.

In contrast, the temple of the Wyrm in the Immemorial City contains a broken/cut Ouroboros, as seen below (thank you to @tomthefanboy for the image and the translation).

The Wyrm/Ouroboros symbol in the circle is cut where the vermiscous/Wyrm juice flows out, representing an interruption to the natural cycle, where rebirth is not possible. This then is an eternal death sought by the Wyrm.

I love this contrast between Jade life and devotion to good and the Wyrm's evil/fatal purposes.

The Pnakotic quote on the floor, "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" is a quote by H. P. Lovecraft, in keeping with the show's many references to Cthulhu mythos. This put me in mind of Lili/the Crone's entreat to Airk: "You think you know what is real and what isn't. What is light, what is dark. Now forget all you know. Come with me." And also, Willow tells the party that their quest will take them "beyond the edge of our world into the unknown." The Wyrm is enthralling people into a fearful place of unknowing, and also our questers must venture into that unknown place in order to fight the servants of the Wyrm.

So much detail and thought went into this show!

#jade claymore #costume design #pnakotic #willow 2022 #willow #willow disney+ #willow series #disney's willow #willow show #lovecraft

[badstitched]

October Patreon Pattern ~ Ouroboros

The Ouroboros is an ancient symbol of a serpent eating its own tail. It symbolizes the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation. I designed my Ouro in the shape of a Bowen knot, which is also associated with love, loyalty, and friendship.

Patrons get three variations of this design. A calm blue galaxy, a vaporwave pink, and rainbow! I think with the true meaning of ouroboros + the bowen knot, the rainbow version makes a lovely symbolic piece about LGBQTIA love.

Find this pattern available for Tier 2+ until November 15th. Bonus! If you're reading down this far, my secret shop is open to patrons, go snag all my old patreon patterns, some early access patterns and stickerssss. www.patreon.com/badstitch

#ouroboros #cross stitch #xstitch #cross stitch pattern #snake #snek #fiber arts #patreon creator #stitchcraft #broderie #pixel art #galaxy snake #symbols

[bestworstcase]

Okay, so in an earlier post, you brought up the idea that Dark saw Salem as his heir (sorry if this is off. I couldn't find the og post) and destroyed the world with Light because he knew Salem could bring back humanity.

Now, with your new post about the transcendent cycle (human->grimm->human or faunus), it got me thinking: Did Dark build the transcendent cycle for Salem to find and kickstart the world with?

original / addendum

broadly my thinking is that the salem incident led dark to conclude that the ongoing disagreement between himself and his brother (re: jabber) couldn’t be resolved, and everything he does afterward is a gambit to get light to leave remnant just as they left the ever after when their disagreement first became untenable. the brothers make salem immortal by mutual agreement but for very different reasons; for dark, a human rebellion is the intended outcome.

dark understands destruction—and through destruction, renewal and change—and i’m convinced that after he left remnant, he went home to the tree and ascended. whether he intended for salem to do what she did afterwards or not is less clear, but he knew it was possible and he left the wellspring of his power behind for her to find. “you thought there was no greater punishment we could bestow upon you?” and “still demanding things of your creators?” together add up to “we are crueler than you know and if you continue to seek our help, you will suffer; figure it out yourself.”

and then he shattered the moon—his own creation, according to legend, a symbol of his divine authority as one of the creators of that world—on his way out. unlike his brother, his departure is violent and final. i think he just left; implicitly dark’s judgment is the world is in salem’s hands now and she can do whatever the hell she wants with it.

the transcendent cycle i think just emerged through the combination of salem’s soul with the divine wellsprings and the underlying cosmic echoes of the tree in the world the brothers made; after all, they made humans in their image. it stands to reason that once the artificial system got disrupted, remnant evolved its own form of reincarnation.

[interstitialdreams]

Names, Pronouns, Titles based off of an ouroboros - rq by: anon

Names; Adalinda, Ameet, Anant, Basilisk, Belindo, Boa, Coatl, Cobra, Dracaena, Draco, Drake, Fani, Feilong, Guivre, Kulshedra, Leviathan, Mabota, Marise, Mu, Naga, Nyoka, Ophiuchus, Python, Tut, Varanus, Varunim, Viper

Names are taken from various places around the world and various mythologies.

Pronouns; sna/snake/snakes/snakeself, dra/dragon/dragons/dragonself, infit/infinity/infinitys/infinityself, lo/loop/loops/loopself, tai/tail/tails/tailself, cy/cycle/cycles/cycleself, de/destruct/destruction/destructionself, cre/create/creation/creationself, ouro/ouroboros/ouroboros/ouroboroself, opus/opus/opus/opuself, re/renewal/renewals/renewalself, li/life/lifes/lifeself, dea/death/deaths/deathself, sym/symbol/symbolic/symbolicself, sym/symbol/symbols/symbolself

Titles; one who is trap in a loop, {prn} who loops, one who is in a cycle, {prn} who is in a cycle, one who eats {prns} own tail, {prn} who is a snake, one who is a dragon, {prn} who is infinite, one who symbolizes a cycle, {prn} who is life and death, one who is destruction and creation, {prn} who is symbolic

#milk ✧ and ✧ cookies #names #name help #name list #name ideas #name suggestions #pronouns #neopronouns #pronoun help #pronoun suggestions #neopronoun list #neopronoun ideas #title list #title ideas #title suggestions #titles #oroborus #oroboros

[novantinuum]

Fluid musings about the trailer that I’m still continuously adapting after sitting on the thoughts for a while and peering around at other people’s interpretations...

ONE: The Ouroboros as part of the title card.

Many have said it before, but I think the chances of BotW Link and Zelda either being connected to, deeply influencing the actions of, or BECOMING ancient Link and Zelda is very likely now.

One definition for the meaning of this symbol is: “a gnostic and alchemical symbol that expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation.” This theme lines up really well with the reincarnation cycle of Legend of Zelda, and with the idea that our BotW Link and Zelda we know may change form in some way to become part of the beginning of their own cycle.

I do think it’s INCREDIBLY relevant to mention that the traditional ouroboros is one serpent eating its own tail, but this logo has two serpents eating each other’s tails. This brings me a lot of hope that Zelda will have a role in this game just like Link- it won’t be just ONE of them connected to the past, it’ll be both of them.

TWO: This may not be Zelda.

This figure’s pose reminds me a lot of Ganondorf’s body caught in an uncomfortable stasis underground. The hair looks different by the ear and there is a necklace seen that isn’t with the figure below, which seems more likely to be a Zelda. It also doesn’t look like there is a collar piece on the figure below’s outfit, but there is here. Or... it could be just weird little differences in the mural + perspective, who knows.

THREE: I’m very curious if there is some plot reason for these dead trees at the right.

The trees on the island ahead are all filled with vibrant life, golden leaves... and the trees on the island to the right are... void of life. The landscape there looks a lot more rugged and barren. Is there a reason for this? Will this be a progressive change on these islands above... symbolizing corruption, or are there simply different types of scenery across all the islands?

FOUR: What are these for??

The new item hanging on Link’s belt in place of the Sheikah slate is this funky little device. There look to be eight slots in which these glowing green canisters can hang. The golden decorations on the canisters have the same aesthetic as Link’s new arm. In this shot, four of the slots are filled, and the others are empty. If it’s hanging in place of the slate, then does this have a gameplay mechanics relation? Or could it be a storage solution for whatever main plot collectables Link needs to obtain via dungeons? Or... a 4 spirit orbs = power up situation, where you need to fill all canisters to get an upgrade?

I’m also very curious where and from whom Link gets this from.

FIVE: Hylia? Someone else? Tears?

Who is this? Is that headpiece their face, or a magnificent mask? It kind of reminds me of a moth, in design. I’ve been seeing a lot of folks say this could be a depiction of Hylia, but the design doesn’t entirely resemble what we’ve seen of her, IMO. I’m more suspicious it could be someone entirely new. Regardless though, this figure seems to be holding aloft seven tear shapes, which might be the titular “tears of the kingdom.”

But what ARE the tears of the kingdom? What power may they hold? What would happen should they be stripped away? Is this figure offering them, or taking them? Is this figure friend or foe?

I previously went “omg what if this figure on the left is ancient Link” but now I can see the same hair and headpiece motifs as in the previous photo. They’re the same person. And the figure on the right is making some sort of contact with Ancient Zelda (?), and there are two twin tears above them. Is this a peace offering? A draining of energy? A meeting of allies? A meeting of enemies? It’s hard to say as of now. And are these two of the seven tears seen above, or two extra tears? Do the tears represent places or people, or are they actual obtainable objects?

Many, many questions.

#loz #totk #tears of the kingdom #loz theory #totk theory #my post stuff

[uptoolateart]

I know it's been forever since I updated my Miraculous tarot deck. I've just been so busy writing fics instead! Then I saw the S5 finale and I decided to replace one of the cards I'd already done. So, this is Reality, which is a replacement for The World. An explanation is below the image. It turns into a bit of an analysis of 'Re-Creation'.

My previous image for The World was Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Cat Noir, i.e. their dual images. Then I got stuck because actually, that image would be perfect for the 2 of Yo-Yos...but I want to update it because I can draw better now, so that's on its way.

So, why did I go with Gimmi / Reality for this card?

The World is the end of the Major Arcana, or the archetypal cards at the head of the deck. Therefore, it speaks of fulfilment, completion, harmony, and the end of a certain cycle or phase of life. One journey has ended and a new one begins. From this point, we return to The Fool and start the sequence all over again.

The traditional Rider-Waite-Smith image shows a dancing figure, showing that fulfilment is ever-changing and dynamic. He/she is surrounded by a wreath of success / the achievement of a goal. This circle shows the cyclical nature of life. To quote an old Smashing Pumpkins song, the end is the beginning is the end….

In the corners are four figures who also appear in The Wheel of Fortune, symbolising the elements in harmony.

The central figure has one leg up in the air, reminding me of Lord Shiva in ancient Indian stories. Also referred to as the Lord of Dance (not to be confused with the Lord of the Dance, i.e. Michael Flatley), Shiva is a classic symbol of balance, walking the two paths between spiritual life and material life / desires. I thought of him the instant I saw Gimmi in 'Re-Creation', which I'll discuss that below. (I mean, look at all those arms...but even besides that....)

Ancient Indian traditions have this idea of different yugas, or eras. There are four of them, each one shorter than the last. When all four come to an end, Shiva does a special dance so powerful that it shatters the material universe...clearing a path for the universe to be created anew and the whole cycle to begin again. This process goes on eternally.

(Incidentally, we are currently said to be living through the last yuga in the cycle, the Kali yuga, when people are at their weakest and live shorter lives. But don't worry - there are about 427,000 years left of this yuga.)

Many traditions say Brahma is the creator god, after Shiva cleans the slate. Others, though, give Shiva the role of creator, too - specifically describing him as destroying in order to create again.

Hence in 'Deflagration' Plagg reminds Tikki that 'you and I are one', and in 'Re-Creation', when we see Plagg and Tikki in their ultimate forms, they make similar statements. Gimmi is not one or the other - Gimmi is their unified state. Reality = the constant ebb and flow of life and death, creation and destruction...like when Gabriel makes his wish and reality is collapsed and recreated. His wish is Shiva's dance. Constance is an illusion.

I think it's really interesting how when Gabriel 'dies', we never actually see a body. 'That's just because it's a children's show!' Yeah, maybe...but it's a children's show full of esoteric imagery, too. When Gabriel 'dies' he simply floats up and becomes a bunch of glowing light, returning to the energetic source of everything. Even basic physics tells us that energy never goes away. It simply...transforms. In a weird way...Gabriel's still floating around in some form, in the end. (Now there's a creepy thought.)

By the way, if you've noticed the placement of the Gabriel figure on my card...yeah. I didn't choose that. My reference image was a screenshot from 'Re-Creation'. I'm certain Gabriel's positioning was on purpose, to illustrate that is he but one humble emanation of the Creatrix (a feminine source of life - and with all that pink, I'm sure Gimmi is meant to be something like this, too).

And can I just note that I love the way Gimmi's head is surrounded by the atomic model. You may have gathered from other posts that I was less than satisfied with that S5 finale...but everything about Plagg, Tikki and Gimmi was fantastic.

#ml tarot deck #ml recreation #ml meta #ml analysis #ml s5 finale #ml gimmi #miraculous ladybug #mlb #ml fandom #ml fanart #tarot deck #tarot cards #ml theory #ml plagg #ml tikki #ml plikki #ml gabriel #gabriel agreste #fanart

[alexa-crowe]

in circulos

Ouroboros, emblematic serpent of ancient Egypt and Greece represented with its tail in its mouth, continually devouring itself and being reborn from itself. A gnostic and alchemical symbol, Ouroboros expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation. (x)

Their first time is a few days after Minneapolis, after...Pfaster. Mulder, obviously well-intentioned, incidentally seduces her by spending more time with her outside of work. It’s because he’s worried about her after almost losing her again, and she’s feeling vulnerable, but he makes her feel safe. One night he even makes her forget what happened and she laughs, and they’re a little tipsy with wine, and she kisses him, and she practically melts into him. They almost don’t have sex because he nudges her away and questions her, but she insists—God, does she want him—so he lays her down on the couch and shit. This—the feelings—that can’t happen again. And she says so. And Mulder, if a bit forlorn, agrees.

Next time is a few weeks later in the wake of losing Samantha again. His apartment is closer, so she drives him back there. They share a bed, ostensibly so they can monitor each other. In the middle of the night, Mulder palms her hip, very lightly—a question he knows he shouldn’t be asking her, but she’s glad he is. Scully guides his hand down down down and he moves closer, flush against her. After he slips inside, he brings his arm around her, squeezing her tight, and she feels surrounded by him in the best way.

They don’t have sex again for a long time. She nearly breaks and seeks out his embrace after the cannibal town but she resists. She’s almost surprised when he walks in her apartment past midnight a few weeks later but she can’t sleep either. Too much thinking—about Missy, about Mulder’s father, about faith, about...Mulder. About him most of all. He doesn’t waste any time before kissing her and walking her back to her bedroom, and she can’t hold back a moan. They undress each other, feverish, and he kisses her all over, starting at her face and working down her body. He doesn’t eat her out like he has nothing to lose, like he’s trying to down himself with the taste of her, and she realizes—this is not out of grief. It’s appreciation. Adoration. A way of showing her how thankful he is that she’s stuck by him and took care of him when so few people have. And then he’s gone in the morning.

She’s afraid that it’s going to be a thing between them but she goes into the office and he’s peppy as ever. It still hurts, those losses, but there’s an understanding between them. It’s not an issue that they’re not having sex... until it is, with Bambi and Detective White, but she’s frustrated with him, so she withholds it from him and denies it to herself. And then he gets sucked into his profiling, consumed by it, and she’s so concerned for him and relieved that he’s okay. She tears down all the drawings on his apartment walls and throws them away and they sit in silence on the couch. After a while, she creeps her hand towards his, and then somehow she’s draped on top of him on the couch, other way around, and he’s down her throat while he’s licking at her with gusto. She leaves while he’s asleep.

He thinks it’s going to be another long haul of waiting for her again but then all that shit with Modell happens, and she follows him back to his apartment and she stays much later than she usually does on work nights, and when he grabs his blanket and pillows she wordlessly lays down with him and tucks herself against him. He turns over to look her in the eyes and without saying them, she conveys a very heavy and loaded three words before kissing him. She maneuvers on top pf him and reaches down to undo his fly and pull his cock out. Miraculously, she’s still there in the morning, softly snoring on his chest.

He allows himself more touches at the office. Gentle ones, but there nonetheless—to her waist, to her ass, to her hips. And those are just the ones with his hands. Every once in a while he’ll reach for a file on top of one of the cabinets while she’s there just to brush his crotch against her ass. He wouldn’t do it if she hadn’t been the one who first popped her hips and demurely looked back at him. That all stops after the case with the signals, where she’s faced with her worst nightmare—his betrayal. She’s jumpy, carrying an undeserving guilt around her. He drives to her apartment amid a harsh thunderstorm and takes just a moment to get her consent before taking her against the front door. He mumbles it against her cheeks, her lips, her neck as a mantra—it’s alright. I absolve you. I can’t forgive you when there’s nothing to forgive.

He’s grateful for her warm, wet welcome after nearly losing his mother. He wants to tell her but it comes out muffled against her breast. He moans instead, slowly pistoning in and out of her, needing to feel her throb around him. When she finally does, his fingers on her clit, he comes, and they both pretend not to feel his tears against her skin.

It’s a different kind of sex in Home, where he beds her down from above but she’s the one in control, telling him where to put her legs and how long to wait before coming and to slide a pillow under her hips and to stay inside as long as possible and not to leave her arms. And if they were normal, it might work. But they’re not normal, and they were just pretending. She takes her little pill in the morning like usual. They don’t talk about it. Do they ever talk about things?

He tries to resist. He really does. But then he fucks it all up, makes her feel bad about their relationship despite her confidence in their partnership, and he has to make sure she knows—whatever he may believe about past lives and reincarnations, he wouldn’t change a day, either. Well, maybe some things he’d change, if he could, but he wouldn’t give her up. The thought is unthinkable. He wants to stay buried in her cunt forever, suffocating in her slickness. What a way to go. RIP Fox Mulder, he died doing what he loved—cunnilingus.

And it’s sweet, so fuckin’ sweet, how she looks underneath him, all, “I was held in contempt of Congress because I refused to divulge your whereabouts,” and, “Even if I had known, I wouldn’t have told them, Mulder.” She’s just so goddamn sweet that it makes his heart ache, possibly just as much as his cock ached after being so far away from her. Jesus, how sappy is that? But she looks peaceful underneath him, like his steady thrusts just off-course are conducive to meditation. Sweet, but not like fruit-flavored candy; like chocolate—sweet with rich flavor, so strong he can almost taste her even hours later. “Scully,” he grunts. “Hm,” she hums back. He brushes his nose against her face and she opens her eyes, still languid, and smiles up at him. He could come just from how sweet she is. But he’ll make sure she does first.

He’s very soft, and gentle. She understands. He went through the ringer, hoping to find something—anything—regarding Samantha. She brushes her fingers through his hair, nudges his lips to her breast as he grips her hips, and reaches inside his boxers for his cock. She’s careful with him, glad she slipped into bed without any clothes on, waiting for his contrite, morose shuffle into her apartment, into her bedroom, into her waiting embrace. He sucks at her nipple, and she tugs on his growing erection. She jerks him off with precision, bringing her other hand down when he starts thrusting into her hand, and lets his come paint her abdomen. Somewhere between his last grunt and tucking his penis back inside his boxers, he falls asleep, his lips still around her nipple. She exhales, shuddering, and finds herself blinking back tears. She kisses the crown of his head and nuzzles her cheek against him, holding him close, as if loving him fiercely enough will take all his pain away.

He won’t touch her. Well, she did ask him not to, in not so many words. But... Damn it. It all feels bittersweet, now. But maybe if she pulls away now he won’t have to face the sting of losing their relationship at the same time as losing her. It’s better, she tells herself. But she needs him. Her bed is so empty, her cunt is so fucking empty. Her toys stopped helping, and damn it, she already tried to just fuck a guy and leave it at that—but oh no. Not with her luck. When Mulder enters her bedroom, she looks at him only a moment before turning over, tugging her barely-worn silky nightgown over her ass. She ignores the heaviness of impending tears as she hears his belt fall to the floor, and then his pants. He doesn’t touch her like he usually does, fingers slip-sliding through her slickness. He just angles his hard-on between the lips of her pussy and grinds against her. Almost in spite of herself—but, of course, she can’t hate him enough for that—she gets wet, and when he’s satisfied, he nestles the head of his cock at her entrance and thrusts in with a restrained grunt. He grips her hips. He thrusts in and out. She buries her face and her tears in the rumpled sheets on her bed, ignoring the tightness in her chest. She muffles a sob and grips the sheets, but Mulder stops and pulls out, his voice rough and concerned. Next thing she knows, she’s wrapped in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ever since that night, he won’t touch her. His hand still takes its place at the small of her back. He still meets her gaze. He presses tissues above her lip before she even realizes that her nose is bleeding again. He guides her to sit down, gently holding her elbow as if she’s fine china that would break if he squeezed too hard. Maybe he’s right, in a way. She can walk and talk but her toys are untouched and if her head isn’t throbbing she feels out of focus from the pain meds. “Please touch me,” she begs him, wanting him, needing him, as he looks up at her from his dingy couch, demons still lingering in his gaze. Please don’t be reckless. Please live. Live live live. She fakes an orgasm with him for the first time. It’s the damn chemo, but she’s just thankful to still have her hair, most of her health, and her autonomy.

They spend hours in her bed, waiting for the call. His lips are everywhere at once, his fingers plucking at her nipple and pinching her clit. Somewhere in the haze of his administrations she gets wet, beyond her scientific reason, and when he slides home, pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, forehead to forehead, she pretends that she doesn’t feel his tears fall on her cheeks. They mix with her own. He’s still nestled inside her when the phone rings, and she hooks her ankles behind him when he moves to withdraw. She answers the phone with their gazes glued together, and when it’s over, he caresses her cheek, taking in her face, like a husband going off to war. They don’t say anything. What’s left to say that they haven’t communicated with their bodies?

She pounces on him as soon as he opens the door, fresh with life and lust and also, “Mulder, have you been changing your bandages at the required times and cleaning your wound? We don’t want it to become infected.” And he’s got a wry smile on his face as he humors her, and then she pushes him down onto his couch, they yank off each other’s pants, and she fucks him silly. That’s really the most apt description. He’s got his head tipped back against the couch and he’s grinning at her, both of them sated. She can’t help but laugh.

And he knows her well enough by now to remember that gentle orgasms put her to sleep, and bless him for trying but, “Not right now,” she whispers and so he just holds her instead, but the longer she’s awake the more exhausted she gets. But she can’t relax, can’t fall asleep, so she brings his hand down between her legs, underneath the band of her pajama pants. Thinks, Forget forget forget please make me forget, because this place that already hurt enough as it was is now streaked with the death of an innocent, and when comes the floodgates open, and suddenly she’s crying hysterically. Mulder wraps her up in his arms. Why, God? But does he ever answer candid questions?

She’s not full of herself enough to think that he’s doing this all for her, of course not. She can hear how pent up he is, almost whining over the phone line if not for the fact that she’s never heard him whine during sex—voice so low it makes her cunt throb. But he’s panting, and she can imagine him furiously jacking himself off with two hands, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder. She rubs her clit harder, vibe buzzing away inside her hands-free as she focuses the last vestiges of pre-orgasmic consciousness on keeping the phone pressed to her ear. They come at the same time, although she knows that it’s not really true, not with the delay, but it’s close enough to count. “When will you be back?” Mulder doesn’t ask. “Soon,” she doesn’t respond. She’d lied. Her phone was on the whole time, his speed-dial programmed on it like always and weighing heavily on her mind.

They’re happy for that little bit, aside from that brief spot of danger (and visual distraction). (“You roundhouse kicked ‘em, Scully!” he regales her. “Go to sleep, Mulder. Tell me in the morning.”) And he knows how much Texas sucked, so he slips inside the shower with her, hands slip-sliding everywhere she doesn’t really want them, but it’s him so she doesn’t not want them there. He suds her up, teasing her with the bar of soap (with him, anything can be erotic—call it expanding her horizons), massaging her scalp with shampoo, carefully combing her curling hair through. And then, turning her around, he endeavors to look his least like a poor, wet Mulder, kneeling down on the unforgiving floor of his shower, and his best like a different kind of wet Mulder. Thank God for luscious locks of hair, amen. And let him grow back any strands lost quickly amen ohmygodMulder.

He lays her out on the bed like he’s preparing to perform a miracle, kisses all of his favorite places on her body and then some like they’re his personal sacraments, saving the delicate skin of her abdomen for last. He kisses in a line back and forth right above her pubic hair so many times she loses count, only stopping after she feels a wet droplet on her skin. “Mulder?” she whispers, pushing herself up and running a hand through his hair. He shakes his head and nudges her back down, crawling up the bed to drape himself on top of her. He parts her legs, positions their bodies like she instructed him to all the way back in Home. And now she’s crying, too, again, like she did earlier. She should say that they shouldn’t, that there are better ways to work through their guilt and grief, but she doesn’t. Fuck rationalism. Who knows what the chip will make her do next? Who knows what family member will be lost, or when, or how? Which case will put them in a hospital? When the grieving will end and the living start?

He tries to make it sensual again, strip them bare on his couch like after the woods, and his hand was out of commission then, too—his whole arm, actually, but they made it work. He has no illusions as to who is really dictating this situation tonight. She presses their faces together, their chests, their pelvises, and he holds her close with his hands on her back, pretending like they’re normal lovers who don’t have sprained fingers, who don’t have to fuck in the dark in case someone’s watching, who don’t pretend-not-pretend to be trying for a baby. What’s it all for, anyways? But that’s a dumb question. It’s for Scully. It’s all for her. Every second of every day, tick tick tick, Scully Scully Scully. Thump thump thump, his heart beating, Scully Scully Scully. Hngh his cock throbbing in her cunt Scully Scully Scully. She almost screams when she comes but she sinks her teeth into his neck and he takes it and he whispers, “I love you,” into her hair.

He has a new motto: Never assume it can’t get worse. It can’t get worse than this, he thought, back in ’94 when he and Scully were separated and off the X-files. Now all those files, painstakingly maintained and fought for, are gone. His three AM wakeup should be a fantasy, but in his melancholy state, it’s not. “Ungh,” he lets out, rather undignified. She hums around his cock and fondles his balls through the fabric of his boxers. “Fuck, Scully.” She’s as determined as ever, stroking the underside of his erection with her tongue and fucking moaning when he fists her hair before coming down her throat. She swallows down his cum like she always does, and pushes herself up, and only then does he notice that she’s got two fingers tucked inside her pussy, pulsing inside her, and she’s practically sitting on her hand now.

“Scully...” he groans, and sits up before making to reach for her.

“No,” she says, and he stops, directing his gaze up to her pretty, flushed face and perfect, kissable lips. They gaze for a moment, something hard in her eyes. “Tell me...”

“What?”

“Tell me you’re mine.” He opens his mouth to protest but she stops him. “Just say it. If you mean it.”

And so, because of course if he says it he’ll mean it, and even when he hadn’t said it he still meant it, he tells her, “I’m yours.”

“Mulder,” she says, a little whine to it, and he understands perfectly what she means.

He moves in close, kneeling in front of her like she is, and squeezes her breasts, watching as she withdraws her fingers from her cunt and raises them to his lips. Dutifully, he sucks them clean, savoring the taste of her, as he brings his own hand down to her pussy and slicks his fingers around, teasing her a bit before sliding the pads of his fingers up to her clit. She gasps and then sighs, hips jumping into his strokes.

“Oh, Mulder,” she moans, and he knows it won’t be a strong one but she’ll come soon, and it’s better this way—then they can come together.

She grips his shoulder as she removes her fingers from his mouth, too caught up in her mounting pleasure to pay attention to where she takes them, and they drag his saliva across his cheek before she quickly redirects to his fluffed-up bed hair.

She pants for him, hips canted, breaths, “Don’t—don’t stop.”

“I won’t, baby.”

She moans, long and hard and long, and if his bedroom were on the other side of the apartment he might be worried but it’s not so he isn’t. He hums contentedly as she shifts into his lap, and he guides them back down on the bed, stroking her back.

“Still got you,” he murmurs.

“Hm?”

“I said I’ve still got you.”

She gives him a peck on the lips, and he imagines a little Scullysmirk is there. “You’ll always have me. I’m yours.”

#txf #fanfiction #i was gonna have this go until all things but then i decided to just end it here because i was getting exhausted of it lmao #mine

[ungodlyfruits]

Is there a story behind your necklace, it's so pretty

Hi! Yes! There is! Also, thank you!

So, it's my talisman which is the Ouroboros infinity which expresses "the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation." We cannot create without destruction - that can be internally and externally.

I came across this symbol about 15 years ago and fell in love with the meaning intended behind it as its very relevant to me and my life, my core, my essence, my soul i.e it represents unity and the natural eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation

I think about how many times a part of me has "died" or evolved and I am in a philosophical sense "reborn" or I create anew through these otherwise "destructive" times.

This symbol is a reminder of that, that through all the times I have been left with nothing and I feel destroyed - I re-create, I come back BETTER, STRONGER, WISER... the list goes onn. It is a deeply beautiful and spiritual (not religious) experience in my opinion because you must be open to these transformations and that means listening and receiving from the Universe.

#asks

[erikatsu]

let me just tell u all rn. i think before the 7 nations of teyvat there was only 4. because of the prayers artifacts which only offer resistance to 4 elements and suggests the world was locked in a cycle of destruction and re-completion. the number 4 also signifies support and stability (celestia used to be close with sal vindagnyr) and it also biblically symbolizes creation.

but so does the number 7. where they differ though is that 7 also biblically represents perfection. 7 days, c0-c6 is 7, 7 nations, 7 archons, 7 elements.

also its highly plausible the 4 nations were under the watch & protection of the 4 sunshades, as istaroth has ties to mondstadt. which used to be sal vindagnyr. coincidentally enough, khaenri'ah came from their survivors and khaenri'ah means betrayal of wind.

#lore talk ​ミ★ #my brain is working way too early

[damazcuz]

if i bited you and you bited me could we be ouroboros together.... >_< or is that too weird... sorry this is my first time symbolizing the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but which perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation...

#two paws up

[isorawrites]

[S]INS OF ORIGIN — record.03

CHAPTERS: [ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 ] EXTRAS: [ 01 | 02 ]

SERIES: [ YoRHa: Dark Aftermath ] LINKS: [ Tumblr | AO3 | Ko-fi ]

SHIP: 2B/9S. MUSE: 3B (Sora). NPC: 2B, 9S.

WARNING — gaslighting, suggestive scenes, murder-suicide.

record.03 — re;call.

[ BGM: Voice of No Return (Piano) | NieR: Automata Piano Collection ]

“The truth, is never beautiful.”

How long has it been?

The Copied Factory was devoid of life: years of abandonment had left the facility in shambles. The spiraling structure had lost its former ominous presence; it was now covered in rust and dust, falling apart beam by beam in silence.

Every time they tried to recall something—anything at all, the only answer they’d receive was an excruciating headache. Memories of their past were nothing more than a hazy blur in their mind’s eye.

So many questions… but where to begin?

Beyond the dusty mist of a decaying Engel, they continued down a path that led to a deserted wasteland in eternal midday. The Puppets’ Bunker was no different from the factory: lifeless and silent, its white walls rotting away under the everlasting light of Kholusia.

Pulling out a black box from their dress pocket, they activated the device with a gentle squeeze. It sprung to life with a squeak, and the glowing glyph that floated around the box formed an arrow pointing to the ground.

Perhaps the truth they were seeking could be found beneath the shifting dunes.

Down the pipes and through the overarching hangar, they stopped short before a curious signage. “…2B,” they echoed the symbols on the door, then they raised the device to unlock the Pandora's Box before them.

The door slid open and revealed a simple, minimalistic room. It was enclosed by pristine white walls with no windows, except for a holographic screen along the short corridor, which led to a Hume-sized bed around the bend. At this point, the black box began to squirm in their palm. It slipped out of their hand and landed on the bed with a bounce, then the glyph scattered themselves around the room, before the device spoke for the first time with a feminine voice, [ Playback function detected. Extracting memory files… ]

The strange symbols expanded into many ghostly figures of 2B, which filled the lifeless space with hollow vitality. However, two holograms on the bed piqued their attention, as one of them appeared to be a different android model.

“…9S,” the disembodied voice of 2B said to her boyish companion. “Are you sure about this?” She glanced down at her own trembling hands, which flickered in the glaring fluorescent lights. “Can we really break this cycle of destruction once and for all?”

“2B.” The boyish android smiled as he placed a hand on the shoulder of his distressed friend. “The truth is… I don’t know.” He shifted closer to 2B, their masked faces now barely an ilm apart, and he kissed the surprised girl. “We just have to try, no matter how impossible it seems.”

As the arms of the enamored pair entwined, 9S whispered into 2B’s ear. “Don’t we all wonder: what is love?” Then he chuckled when his partner let out a soft gasp. “If we’re nothing more than gods’ creations, then what is the nature of our relationship? What is this feeling that we have for each other?”

“Don’t… go any further. Or I’ll have to… kill you.”

“Is that your true calling?” 9S showed no signs of stopping. “To do as you were programmed initially, or to follow your intuition from learned experience so far?”

2B stopped struggling and fell silent for a moment. She looked away and spoke in an emotionless voice, “We cannot become gods. You know that. We obey… or be destroyed.”

“Do you truly believe in that?” 9S chided as he removed his visor, his light blue eyes locked onto 2B with amusement. “I have seen your memories of me—all of them. I may not fully understand your pain, but even I can see what you desire most.” He then removed 2B’s blindfold, turning her head gently so that they were making eye contact. “Do you really want to kill me again? For eternity?”

“Nines, I…” Another kiss drowned the rest of her words; she pushed her companion away and regarded him with uncertainty. “We are created beings. We cannot reproduce like real humans. We can never become like them, no matter how hard we try.”

“What if… there’s a way?”

2B narrowed her gray eyes at her grinning partner.

“Our original world was already dying when the humans sent us there to take it back for them,” 9S explained. “But this strange land we’re in now is different. It’s still filled with life.” Then he pushed 2B down to the bed.

“We fight for no one. Not for the humans, not against the machines. We fight for ourselves.”

2B raised her hands to caress her partner’s face, then she clamped them around his neck, choking him. “You are not the Nines I know. Who are you?”

The holograms began to blur, and their voices became fuzzy with static. 9S had plunged a dagger through 2B’s chest.

“We are nobodies, you and I both. We are nothing more than stepping stones to pave way for a new order.”

“You—”

“Have you seen the new 7S model? He is taller, faster… and prettier than I could ever be.��� 9S laughed with a maniacal glint in his eyes. “We are too weak, too useless for this new world. They are going to replace us.” He coughed when 2B tightened her grip around his neck. Then he smiled, with sadness lacing his strained voice.

“If you and I were to have a child together… they’d probably look just like 3B.”

All the holographic figures around the room began to fade away. Then the black box spluttered before it disintegrated into powdered dust.

3B slumped onto the cold, hard floor at the revelation so far. They raised their hands and clutched their horned ears in confusion.

What… am I?

For what purpose do I exist?

If you like my work, please do

via my profile page — https://ko-fi.com/whyraven.☕ Thank you very much for your continuous support !!

#isorawrites #yorha dark aftermath #muse; argent #sora; yorha 3b #yorha 2b #yorha 9s #-- yorha dark apocalypse #-- nier automata #-- shadowbringers

[rh35211]

The ancient symbol that spanned millennia!

Known as the oldest allegorical symbol in alchemy, the OUROBOROS expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation.

“The alchemists, who in their own way knew more about the nature of the individuation process than we moderns do, expressed this paradox through the symbol of the Ouroboros, the snake that eats its own tail. The Ouroboros has been said to have a meaning of infinity or wholeness. In the age-old image of the Ouroboros lies the thought of devouring oneself and turning oneself into a circulatory process, for it was clear to the more astute alchemists that the prima materia of the art was man himself.

The Ouroboros is a dramatic symbol for the integration and assimilation of the opposite, i.e. of the shadow. This ‘feed-back’ process is at the same time a symbol of immortality, since it is said of the Ouroboros that he slays himself and brings himself to life, fertilizes himself and gives birth to himself. He symbolizes the One, who proceeds from the clash of opposites, and he therefore constitutes the secret of the prima materia which […] unquestionably stems from man’s unconscious.”

(From Carl Jung, Collected Works, Vol. 14 para. 513)

The oldest-known Ouroboros appeared on a golden shrine in the tomb of Tutankhamen – ‘King Tut’ – in Egypt in the 13th Century BC, after a brief lull in traditional religion brought about by his predecessor, Akhenaten. The symbol “refers to the mystery of cyclical time, which flows back into itself”. The ancient Egyptians understood time as a series of repetitive cycles, instead of something linear and constantly evolving; and central to this idea was the flooding of the Nile and the journey of the sun.

[everydayoriginal]

Prophecy by Kaitlund Zupanic

“Prophecy”

I’ve frequently played with the symbolism of the Ouroboros. The Ouroboros is a complex idea yet so simple to illustrate.

Everything is prophecized to end; that is the nature of life and the lifecycle. We continuously renew and revitalize ourselves as we move through exploring the world and fulfill the prophecy of the continuation of our spirit, energy, and memory.

“Ouroboros, emblematic serpent of ancient Egypt and Greece represented with its tail in its mouth, continually devouring itself and being reborn from itself. A gnostic and alchemical symbol, Ouroboros expresses the unity of all things, material and spiritual, which never disappear but perpetually change form in an eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation.”  – Britanica.com

Prophecy is 6″x 9″ on arches oil paper. Signed with my Inkan stamp and signature on the back and marked with EDO and 2023.

Graphite, Acrylic, Copper pigment.

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