#they've broken their endless cycles

[aliceofclover125]

FINALLY we know what the fuck goes down after NieR Automata ending E

Took all my willpower not to sob lmao

[justsalpals]

The Princess and her bird man are the only straight people I respect

JK actually they're unfathomable gods of chaos and quiet and transformation, an eldritch being who was once one who was ripped in two with a blunted knife and now lays in broken glass across the cabin floor, trapped in an endless cycle of torment and bloodlust and fear and betrayal and overwhelming love, a dance they've chained themselves to just as much as the man who trapped them there because falling out of step means they will trample universes in their wake but what does that matter when they have each other

and if that's not queer culture, I don't know what is

[incorrect-green-lantern-quotes]

heavy is the hand that wears the ring

"We die so that innocents don't, it's as simple as that. When you put on the ring, the life you lead stops being your own." -Deegan (Green Lantern: Emerald Knights)

There's a heaviness to Green Lantern rings that has nothing to do with the cosmic metals they're forged from, or the incomprehensibly advanced technology packed into them. Some say it's the weight of responsibility, Green Lanterns are charged with protecting the innocent across the universe. And sure, if you're any sort of hero who takes their duty seriously, this is part of it. But it's not the whole.

Every Green Lantern knows that the rings only seek out new wearers when the previous one is no longer fit to serve. A nicer way of saying that they are dead (or are as good as dead to their former comrades, if they've turned oathbreaker). To grow old in the Corps is a privilege, but no Green Lantern ever lives long enough to retire, because the sentients who are chosen to wear the ring are not the kind of people who can ignore the call to arms even when it will kill them.

For some, the ring comes shining from the heavens like a falling star, wiped clean of any trace of its last bearer. They're only told that they were chosen for their ability to overcome great fear and welcomed to the Corps like it's an honor and not a death sentence. Not that it would make a difference. Others take the ring from the broken and bloody fingers of their dying predecessors, and they swear the oath anyway.

(There are many kinds of courage, and the Guardians of the Universe learned long ago that the most useful is the kind that can look death in the eye and keep marching forward.)

There is a heaviness to Green Lantern rings that comes from the countless souls who have died wearing them. It is the weight of lives that will be lost in a cycle as endless as the circle that is the heart of the Corps' symbol. Your predecessor died for you to receive this ring. Before them was someone else. When you die, it will pass on to another. And so forth.

There's blood on your (successor's) ring, and it isn't will be yours.

[yasashiinaya]

So this is probably gonna be a long post about how rain world changed my perspective on life and death. There'll be references to in game lore as well as my personal thoughts on real life. I'll assume you're familiar with most of the lore.

So where do I even start?

Rain world is probably the game that has had the most profound effect on me. On its surface it's just a game about poor slugcat exploring this dangerous world, but under the surface it is deeply philosophical. Reading all the pearls, visiting all the echos, and playing through all the campaigns (including downpour) really made me appreciate it.

In rain world we have an answer to the afterlife. We know there is one and we know roughly what it entails. It's unclear how the ancients knew reincarnation was real. Maybe they remembered past lives, maybe there was some feature that made it obvious it was them again, we'll never know. Perhaps one purpose of the data pearls was to store knowledge of past lives for them to learn through.

So.. why did they want to leave the cycle? A great question. It's clear that the ancients cared a lot about life after all. We get some insight into them in the shaded citadel pearl (dark pink). It's a pearl from the memory crypts. A list 620 items long about Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel's accomplishments. Maybe they were a summary of one life, maybe of all lives. We can assume it was put in the crypts after they ascended. Considering there are engineered organisms patrolling the memory crypts, surely this all meant a lot to them. Why did they want to ascend? Well it's clear not all of them did. Rhinestones beneath Shattered Glass (undergrowth) tells us this:

"Do you see the same as me? Beauty continuing to bloom even in a place long forgotten. I did not have the will to depart, nor the desire. Why did they always search for an escape, as if we were imprisoned? What offering from the void could usurp the gift of life already given? This moment, right here! It is where we are meant to be."

Echos exist cause they were not done with life. It's not some sort of punishment, it's just what happens when ascending is not something they truly wanted. The Farm Arrays pearl (pink) says that there were horror stories that if your ego was too big, the void fluid couldn't ascend you, leaving you an echo. Is it truly ego? Maybe being echos has changed the ones that remain but most don't seem like they have massive egos. Nineteen Spades, Endless Reflections thinks that they remain cause they can't let go of their memories. Four Needles under Plentiful Leaves asks if they should be ashasmed that they envy our flesh prison. A Bell, Eighteen Amber Beads still contemplates the same fields they once did. In the saint campaign, they theorize that they remain cause they feel the land has yet to reveal all of its secrets. They still hold onto the place despite it changing so.

They're imprisoned because they clearly didn't want to go. There are probably countless echos that exist merely because they felt pressured to cross themselves out. The iterators are stuck trying to find the triple affirmative. Some iterators want to ascend themselves but are incapable due to their biology. So.. if an iterator were to die, what would happen to them? Would they be stuck in a sort of limbo since no new iterators were made? Perhaps. If ascended by the saint, Looks To The Moon and Five Pebbles can see the entire loop of their existence, while also mentioning that it is only a dream. If both are ascended at the same time, it's clear they don't understand the afterlife at all. They don't know if they've broken free or not. They wouldn't have known if they found the right solution.

Let's talk about saint. It's unclear what they really are. They are an echo yet they are stuck in a repeating cycle. Or are they? Is it a cycle begun anew? They are a triple affirmative in all senses. A portable solution that is generally applicable. Upon ascending both iterators, they say this:

BSM: Only those who have seen the other side can know the answers, but by definition they can never venture back to deliver the knowledge they have gained.

FP: Perhaps that is why you need to wake up, little visitor.

Are we stuck because we have seen the other side and must help the others? Is the saint's purpose to ascend everyone? Did we see the first cycle or did we see one of countless? Are they wrong and we are stuck because our ego convinces us we can "fix" the world. Are we even right in ascending those who did not ask for it?

Crossing the Rubicon is an idiom that means passing a point of no return. When Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon, it led to a civil war and him becoming a dictator. Saint passing the point of no return did not mean that they couldn't come back afterwards, it meant that they became something else. What is the rubicon in rain world even? The iterators suggest it is a dream, is it? Why are the guardians trying to keep us from crossing? Perhaps the void sea itself doesn't want us to cross. Perhaps it's a test to see if we're worthy.

Is ascension even meant to be? Why would there be a method of ascension that could be mass produced? The void sea almost seems like a cop out, no? the pearl in the filtration system (teal) tells us that the void sea is an entity that dissolves the rock. Maybe it just crosses out anything it comes into contact with, including creatures. I don't think it's meant for us.

When I first ascended as the survivor I was left in awe. I went in blind and had no idea what the ending would be like. It took reading a lot of the lore for me to somewhat understand. These mysterious creatures lived in the void sea and for some reason helped us? Did we really ascend? What even is the purpose of the void worms? The sense of mystery is captivating

As a thanks for reading this far: Have a drawing I made

Moving on to section 2: my own personal thoughts

I really started to think about life and death after wrapping up everything. Is there an afterlife in the real world? Should there be one? Do I even want to know the answer? Some background on me: I grew up in a family that knew no religion. Fairly spiritual but it wasn't a big part of their lives. I was aware christianity was a thing but my family didn't believe in any gods and didn't teach me any of that stuff. I didn't start learning about the afterlife in other cultures until religion class in school. My dad passed away when I was a kid so I was kinda left theorizing on what lies beyond the veil. No one tried to tell me what the right answer was cause no one knew. So.. what do I think? I'm not sure. For the most part I've just kinda figured my spirit returns to the earth once I'm gone, but will there be something left of me? Will I move on? I.. don't know. For a long time I didn't really mind the idea of dying. I didn't care what was on the other side. I didn't particularly care about life either. It took me a long time to see how precious things actually are. Heck, it took me until just this year to figure what afterlife is most desireable to me. So again, what do I think? The idea of heaven just feels wrong. Is it just life part 2? How cruel is that. An afterlife of happiness and no negativity? What's the point of that? Without my flaws and my pain, am I really me? An afterlife of eternal happiness would just leave me as an empty shell devoid of any real depth. A cruel prank by the gods to collect hollow mortals to spend time with them perhaps. Is reincarnation much better? Must my memories disappear, leaving me with no idea I was someone else? All the hurdles I overcame and connections I made, gone? For naught? Just to start over? I suppose I wouldn't know anymore, I wouldn't remember, but it feels like a sad fate. Perhaps I'm more attached to the world than I realize.

Maybe the ancients weren't so wrong. Maybe being crossed out is the answer. I think the afterlife I want is no afterlife at all. An end I wouldn't even be aware of. Unaware I ever existed. When we go to sleep, we don't know we're actually gonna wake up, do we? When I went under for surgery, the world just faded away. No memories of my last moments, no memories of it happening. That's what I hope the end will be like. Unaware in peaceful bliss. Falling asleep and never waking up again. Is it the happiest of endings? Perhaps not, but it is a fair ending. I guess I'm not so different from the ancients. Perhaps they were right in seeking a way to just disappear and never come back, but I suppose we won't know if that's what they actually got.

Farewell internet stranger, I hope you enjoyed my theories

[journey-to-the-attic]

Do you think IK or the brothers would ever find out about all the times she's died in past loops? Does Barbatos even know, would he tell them if he did?

i feel like barbatos would figure out pretty quickly that ik's appearance is an anomaly within the way things usually happen in the loop, and if i were to put an ironic torturing-him twist on this - potentially this is the first cycle where he 'gives up', i.e. takes a step back and doesn't try to interfere - so he realises that he's been making things worse the whole time by involuntarily causing ik's premature deaths

honestly i think he'd just keep it to himself entirely, out of guilt and also not wanting to ruin everyone else's mental states with the knowledge of these endless cycles that they haven't even noticed they've been trapped in. he doesn't see a reason to burden ik in particular with the idea that she's 'meant to be dead', so he doesn't say anything

though potentially ik herself becomes aware on her own, and barbatos admits what he knows upon being confronted. mayhaps one will become fully aware of the cycle upon death, but will forget by the next time it begins again, and ik (who cannot seem to stay dead ever) has another dies-but-is-brought-back-within-the-same-timeline experience that leaves her aware

alternatively we leave the poor kid alone and she breaks them all out of the cycle with the power of love and empathy, and barbatos just eventually comes to peace with the fact that he couldn't have ever done that on his own. maybe once he's sure they've broken out of the loop, he'd confide in diavolo, but even then he'd want to leave ik and the brothers in peace

(don't get me started on how the brothers would react if they became aware of the previous deaths. i feel like, as cruel as time is, they'd have been involved in a significant number of them - whether or not having done so directly, maliciously or carelessly - especially since poor barbatos is the one that keeps accidentally aggravating them)

[mystery-salad]

She's just so!!!!!!! She can't be fixed! She's so fucking broken and her life is such a tragedy, and there is no redemption path she can ever find.

He life trajectory was determined by so many other people and she knows this and she hates this, but there's no way to undo it and she can't trust anyone else to do better by her even when they've been shown to try...

And despite all of that, she still ended up attaching her feelings to another. She didn't want to, and god she wants that connection gone, when someone mentioned it once she nearly killed that person then and there.

She was once defined to help the Commander, her wyld hunt was once to work at their side with another, help save the world help end the dragon cycle. If the nightmare raid hadn't happened she would be loved and cherished and have a family

But instead she was abused and warped and in a twisted way tied to the dragon cycle without ever once stepping foot near any of it. All it took was too much raw magic saturation in the air...the tests done on her turned her into a generator, trying to create and manage so much leyline energy that her body wasn't meant for. All it took is one too many dragons dying and *pop*

And you'd think that would be the end but *it isn't*, because those fuckers and whatever they did to her aided in her healing abilities. The magic coursing through her body constantly degrading her also helps keep her going. Unable to move unable to scream, laying in a crater that was once the tiny sliver of space she called an excuse for a home until that one person she attached her feelings to came to check on her and found her in that state.

And they couldn't do anything, Strair's a spy not a medic by any measure. They can patch up a quick injury her and there but they have their own shit coping methods and a damn good healer friend to make sure they don't die in turn from their own deal. But that medic is busy right now, tied up with the Pact. With the commander. With the people that Illiadde was once...meant to be with...

So they take her there, a wanted criminal with a past tied to the Commander already in ways that no one could blame Laighe for turning them both away.

But she doesn't, she's had her own long fight her own endless traumas...she and illiadde are closer in understanding than they've ever been, not that illiadde would know. Not that she'd ever *let* illiadde know. All illiadde knows is she wakes up on another operating table. Like when she was young and everything lead to more pain and more tests

So she does the only thing that makes sense to her, she rips off a restraint and fucking throws the medic working on her hard enough to tear their arm off. They barely make it out of the room and she's locked down in it until she runs out of energy and passes back out to be restrained again.

She keeps trying. She can't stay here and there is no reason to her that anyone would help her. It's never been done, it's not an option. Ever. She knows she won't be helped, more than can't.

She gets lucky though, the sylvari she was once meant to work alongside to help the Commander, who remembers her from their dreams...she doesn't recognize them those memories don't even exist for her any more. But all it takes is some unlocked doors, some diverted guards. And she's out again. And she's alone still. And still broken in a way that can't be fixed and all that help did was prolong it, her life saved but no progress made.

She'll only ever be a weapon and she will keep losing everything.

[katyspersonal]

That one interpretation about Micolash’s fate now lives rent free in my head. I’m not opposed to the notion of him dying once and for all, and I like the irony of a scholar obsessed with the pursuit of knowledge spending his last moments in ignorance. But being forever trapped in his own mummified body seems like the perfect punishment and suits the theme of hopelessness so well. For someone who despised his humanity so much, who went above and beyond to escape the limitations of his body, being forced back into his pathetic, frail, powerless body must be pure torture. Once Micolash’s consciousness is brought back, he’ll have all eternity to ponder over the fact that his efforts were fruitless and he’s nothing but a withered corpse, a manifestation of human fragility and mortality. But in contrast to the situation with Lovecraft’s priest, there’ll be nobody around to destroy his brain and end his sufferings.

No, this is absolutely valid, and from the standpoint of a person that gives "proper" judgement to Bloodborne characters - yeah, he "deserved" it!

I just have a completely different way to look at the things, and Soulsborne games offer me the most freedom in this. Like I said, the whole theme of 'fate worse than death' applied to the war criminals we meet in these games just doesn't do anything to me. Doesn't make me mad (because, again, they probably "deserve" it) but also doesn't really excite me... The problem with Soulsborne settings is that things are so chaotic and flipped upside down that morality, principles and and judgement as we know them no longer apply in my opinion- heck, I always said I can't really guilt characters like Aldrich or Rykard for how much atrocities they've committed, because the world they're in is so fundamentally broken and doomed that in the end, what they'd have to do to escape it no longer matters...? Elden Ring didn't touch upon it well enough, and even gave us *gasp* OPTIMISM!!!!, but Dark Souls totally falls for this... mess.

On the other hand, characters like Allant or Shabriri in my interpretation I'd totally say deserved "real" judgement. And Micolash is kinda complicated... He falls exactly in the middle. Dude did quite the unthinkable things to break free from the humanity, but also his setting kinda falls for the trope of "humanity is doomed anyways" and his only fault is that he tried to escape, whatever it takes, rather than pull the whole 'I will perish but at least not lose my human decency uwu' thing. For most people, choosing the latter feels like an axiom and they don't need reasoning to why it is "the only acceptable way", but for this type of high IQ investigators not necessarily so. Because hooooow many tiiiiimes you fuckers need an evidence that huge intellect caaaaaan be as much of a cuuuuuurse.

But, again, Bloodborne setting is less obviously... that. Dark Souls IS doomed, yes. Bloodborne is, like... well, he is (presumably) stuck in the city that will wither under endless cycle of the hunt no matter what. So I speculate his problem (and many other characters') is witnessing the knowledhe humans were not meant to see - and losing the sight of worth of his humanity as a result. Again, the smarter you are - the more damaging this effect will be! More simple-minded people would be able to withstand the comprehension of futility of humanity and the cyclic trap that deems both beasthood and Kinship meaningless because "but humanity is still important just because". (Also love how Bloodborne itself addresses this complexion by the fact that the higher person's Insight level is, the stronger Frenzy damage they take!)

__________________

Basically, what I am saying is, this is a "satisfying" fate for Micolash by common logic.. But I personally would rather either let the guy die a real death, or let him be reborn into something else. His setting and the things he learned make his pursuit to transcend humanity at all cost not only fair in my eyes, but even couragerous, in a way. Actually.....

^^^ what really skewed my perspective on most of the Soulsborne's "war criminals" was Miyazaki himself perceiving Fauxsefka as a heroine xD I was instantly able to decipher it as the fact that her courage is doing a 'morally reprehensive' thing (turning people into cosmic Kin) for the greater good (so they lose any chance to become the beasts instead). Not everyone will "dirty" their own hands for some greater idea. But, yeah, Micolash is likely not 'heroic', as he simply cared for helping himself. The only other Mensis scholar we know of is Damian, who actively works against Mico's goals (which is very telling); the other participants of his ritual are prisoners (damn, Miyazaki, can we go against the dilemma of "deciding for everyone else" for ONE game??).

I am glad that you've found a resolution for Micolash's arc that is very satisfying and exciting for you, though! This sorta thing always feels cathartic!

[saiakv]

❛  i’ve never felt such an instant connection with anyone else before.  ❜ it's almost as if he's mimicking human sentimentality. considering what he allows (and typically actively wants) geto to do to him, there has to be some semblance of truth to it. still, a confession like this from mahito is odd - even of mahito himself. as if realizing the implications went deeper than how he intended them to mean, the curse pouted. looking a touch irritated with himself both from what was blurted out and the slight warmth that now arose in his face. :I

prompt I have lost : not accepting

Oblivious to the choir of moans and grunts surrounding the two of them, the curse user cuts through the plastic wrapping of a de-frosted pre-packaged supermarket meal with the butter knife his date provided for him. In the chaos that spread around them, one could see the fragmented understanding of a curse on human customs — whimsically, people turned furniture decorated the dining space, with a background of a sewage pipe that somewhat resembled a fountain and fairy lights ( that Kenjaku was fairly sure they saw Mahito steal from a couple of campers a mere few hours ago ) The atmosphere was set with candles and the scratch of a broken record player that occasionally managed to utter pieces of classical music — and the timbre of groans from the man who served as their dining table, every time some wax dripped onto its surface.

Geto had been on the cusp of sampling the beef stew, when his companion's admission had the spoon lower ( the person it was made from gargled with the juices ) Violet eyes snapped up to meet an averted, mismatched gaze. His puckered lips relaxed to a pout in turn. For a moment, their brow quirks; could it be that he knows?

Could it be that his youth has finally caught up to his anciency, and he remembers their endless encounters throughout the ages? In every shape and form they've known him — from his unique aura as the curse that reigns over all others. The Curse of Humanity. Kenjaku has chased it cycle after cycle, life after life; and countless times it has only barely escaped his grip.

But not this one, it would seem. Pause. A coy smile creeps on Suguru Geto's lips with that realization. They've caught him.

Suddenly, his hand darts over the table, grabbing the curse's own where it rests. The motion rattles everything atop it, but Geto only hunches further over the shattered plates and arrangement of wilted flowers. It is a scene straight out of Hanami's favorite soap operas — given a grotesque touch. His brows curl with a softened gaze.

❝ I understand, Mahito-kun. ❞ Head cants; releasing dark strands that tickle the contorted man's nose; he cries and it spills down the table's edge. Geto's grip is warm when it cusps that deathly hand between his own, the tone affectionately placid. One palm breaks away to tuck a strand of grey away from flustered features ( is he seriously blushing too? man, this curse has a penchant for drama — it endears him to them ) ❝ I feel like I have known you forever. ❞

[crow-ooc]

C- corrfitti

endless cycle of destruction. the MISMATCH between the way they communicate. the way that they will never understand each other in the way the other person wants them to. the way that in ANY OTHER UNIVERSE they would've found each other and maybe fallen in love. the series of horrible coincidences and stories that they've had up to this point making it so, so hard for them to even look each other in the eye. how do you rectify a broken promise? how do you fix a relationship that was doomed from the start?

[flipwizardmcgay]

the problem is, I think, that I want too much.

I care too much.

my hope takes flight too easily, love spilling between the scared, scarred edges of my heart like the blood that's supposed to be there, my anxiety and fear the knife slipped between my ribs, coaxing it out to turn to pain and loneliness, the crash and burn making the echoing impact of loss reverberate through my veins

I am only just now starting to recognize it, you see.

now starting to recognize the cycle of up and down, of missing and wanting

and I don't know if they've ever really known me

if the me I was was truly me at all

if the comfort I find in myself now is truly real

if the identity you See is just another mask, another fragile creation to be forgotten and broken by yet another careless hand

it's so hard to ask, for the things I truly want

(to be held, to be cared for the way I care for you, friendship and love and no expectations but to just be)

I keep finding my mouth opening, though

but ironically, the cracks and breaks form a wall then, a mask, keeping me silent.

scared

the knife in my bleeding, aching heart on my sleeve put there by my own fucking goddamn clumsy hand

the words just tumbling endlessly through my head, out my eyes and down my cheeks.

the endless want and pain unseen and unheard and it's getting harder and harder to keep patching back up-

my problem, you see, is wanting too much

[innerlmnt]

Thanks for the rather civil reply, and I can understand your pain. But I wish you don't assume that as a Jew I automatically support whatever Nethayahu does. Likewise that I don't assume all Palestinians support Hamas. I wish there could have been another solution to the endless cycle of violence, but unless there is real effort for the reconciliation of both sides, the devastation would unfortunately continue. I don't wish to see any more violence either. And it's not that reconciliation was impossible; the closest were the Oslo Accords and the Camp David summits. But peace efforts have since derailed

And sorry to burst your bubble too, but plenty of ceasefire proposals have also been outrageous against Israeli terms, and understandably rejected. Even the one before Rafah was one the Hamas only accepted and agreeable to their side than Israel's. The Hamas even also rejected other ceasefire deals when asked to even return hostages who are alive. https://www.jns.org/hamas-reportedly-rejects-ceasefire-offer-in-cairo/. We cant expect terrorists to be reasonable. Hamas has broken every agreement they've ever entered into with Israel. All they do is use the time to rearm and grow more fighters.https://www.scmp.com/news/world/middle-east/article/3261940/hamas-says-it-will-not-compromise-further-israel-win-gaza-ceasefire?utm_source=rss_feed

Thank you for the cordial reply again. But I think we can agree to disagree on this conflict

It is particularly upsetting that the shots are being called by a genocidal colonial state, and a resistance that commited atrocities to start any progress - atrocities that even Palestinians don't endorse, but they see as the only way forward after exhausting all other options.

The most we can truly do so far is apply pressure on Israel to stop its strikes, for Hamas to concede, and for Israel's allies to stop supporting this genocide (be it financially or otherwise). And that unfortunately falls on us civilians. Civil protests, blockades on weapon shipments, boycotts, fundraising - well-organized efforts on the part of the Rest of the World. They are our current key to try and slow down the attacks, if not stop them entirely. War and genocide are expensive. Cutting off funding keeps Israel scratching its pockets.

I wish diplomacy had been the path forward this whole time. Now I just can't stop thinking about the people of Palestine struggling right now, because of Israel using revenge against Hamas as a scapegoat for genocide.

Thank you as well on your end, for understanding where I'm coming from. That's as much as I can hope for anybody in this whole mess. I'm still learning, so I don't know everything. I don't live there, and know a total of 1 person who is Palestinian and a handful of Jewish people (none from Israel). I can't exactly draw from their experiences, but from what I'm reading across the net. Forgive me if I make any mistakes along the way.

[ashotasfireandasdeepastheocean1]

.🌺

“Women change their mood with the moon, dance with roots, blood and tides. The women sing songs that only the soul can hear and cry in a long-forgotten language. Women hold wisdom in their bodies and give birth to dreams in rhythm with the rush of the river. Women know how to be fluid. Women know when to let go of pain, pain that has always been too much to share. Women keep secrets hidden in their bones, and leave traces of themselves that their daughters can find when they disappear. And if you've ever wondered why women change their minds like the wind, it's because they've had to learn to feed themselves with elusive things like words, perfume, and moonlight. Women are born to embrace, soothe and mend brokenness, hunger and loss of innocence. That is why women walk like a slow rumble of thunder. That's why women spend an eternity weaving velvet, candles and magic into a fabric that will never be altered, despite nights spent hunting the savage, melancholy desires, mornings of endless drudgery and a entire life to create love for others. Women know why the seasons must change, and why the cycles of life, death and rebirth do not change. And like the dark side of the Moon, women know more than they can ever show you.”

Leesa Wilson

.🌺

.

“Les femmes changent d'humeur avec la lune,dansent avec les racines, le sang et les marées. Les femmes chantent des chansons que seule l'âme peut entendre et pleurent dans une langue oubliée depuis longtemps. Les femmes détiennent la sagesse dans leur corps et donnent naissance à des rêves en rythme avec la ruée de la rivière. Les femmes savent comment être fluides. Les femmes savent quand il faut laisser aller la douleur,la douleur qui a toujours été trop lourde à partager. Les femmes gardent des secrets cachés dans leurs os, et laissent des traces d'elles-mêmes que leurs filles pourront retrouver quand elles disparaîtront. Et si vous vous êtes déjà demandé pourquoi les femmes changent d'avis comme le vent, c'est parce qu'elles ont dû apprendre à se nourrir avec des choses insaisissables comme des mots, le parfum, et le clair de lune. Les femmes sont nées pour embrasser, apaiser et réparer les cassures, la faim et la perte de l'innocence. C'est pourquoi les femmes marchent comme un lent grondement de tonnerre. C'est pourquoi les femmes passent une éternité à tisser du velours, des bougies et de la magie en un tissu qui ne sera jamais altéré, malgré des nuits passées à chasser le sauvage, des désirs mélancoliques, des matins de corvées sans fin et une vie entière à créer de l'amour pour les autres. Les femmes savent la raison pour laquelle les saisons doivent changer, et pourquoi les cycles de la vie, de la mort et de la renaissance, ne changent pas . Et comme le côté obscur de la Lune, les femmes en savent bien plus qu'elles ne pourront jamais vous montrer”.

 Leesa Wilson.

[lackadaisical-lesbian]

I'm thinking about how badly the Percy Jackson universe is begging for change, yet stubbornly refuses to do so.

Think about it. The demigods are stuck in an endless loop they did not ask for; monsters that can never be truly killed because they just respawn, suffering grudges born thousands of years before their time, wars of rebellion begging to be won. The universe is in a cycle. The primordial gods made it all, the Titans over threw their oppressive father, the Gods doing the same to theirs. But then it just... Stopped. There was no next generation of slightly-more-righteous rulers. The God's have ruled for a millennial, yet they remain. The world has undeniably moved on; a bronze age, an agricultural revolution, an industrial revolution, a technological revolution- by all logic, they've vastly outstayed their welcome. They retain old traditions no one quite remembers the purpose of and they've been abandoned by a vast majority of the populace. The Roman gods should have replaced them in an epic battle of the ages, but they didn't. They evolved and merged until they struggled to differentiate themselves and avoid identity crisis.

The demigods are born for this age. They understand the world- what it needs, how it works- in a way the Gods do not and Cannot. They can become known to the public(Percy is internationally famous in tlt, Piper, Jason, and Thalia have famous parents) they have compassion where the gods have become out of touch with the mere concept. They're angry and abused, like Zeus and his father before him.

But it doesn't change. The gods make up rules and quest, have convinced these kids that 'this is life and you're lucky to have made it this far, so thank us'. The ones that want change have gone about it wrong. They brought in Kronos and Gaea, monarchs of forgotten ages; those deities got their time, and were duly replaced. To reinstate them would be to replay an era long since past, and no longer needed. They are not the fated revolution; history repeats, but it does not rewind.

The Titans and Giants were not the answer, but a revolution must be had. Before the line is tarnished anymore, something has to give. The halfbloods have been beaten and broken, they use weapons of old, replay old grudges, and in their old Greek/Roman attire and training they stick out in the modern age; they've been held back while the world evolved.

So something needs to be changed, and it needs to be them. They need to be the ones to instate a new rule, before the universe is messed up any further. Fate is screaming out to them with increasingly peril threats of old, with large powers at play that refuse to lend a hand. These kids do so much for their parents, but the gods just keep biting the hand that feeds them. It's time they bite back.

They wouldn't even be hopeless; it fits with the history(the Gods were greatly outnumbered, and the Titans had to fight the sky itself). They are increasingly strong and have defeated gods already. They beat Time and Earth. The gods rely on them: they do their dirty work, they keep them alive and powerful through prayer, they protect them. As much as their parents refuse to admit it, they would be dead without their children. They could fight, and they could win.

The world is begging for change, so change it.

[littlekohai77]

I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of self harm and mentions of paranoia. angst.

It was just another day at NRC. A dorm meeting was being held and Malleus and Yuu were finally included.

*in the mirror chamber*

Everyone was seated in their own preserved seats. As Crowley had said the meeting was being held for the dorm leaders to interact and get to know each other.

=============================

Crowley: *proud of himself for no reason* Aren't I gracious?

Yuu: *deadpan expression* Gracious my ass.

*dramatic gasps in the background*

=============================

Yuu and Malleus were having a conversation about gargoyles when Azul interrupted.

Azul: Sorry for the interruption Yuu. I've been observing you for a long time and there's this thing about you that always keeps bugging me. I'm really curious about this one question. Do you mind?

Azul said with his suave facade on.

Yuu smiles politely ☺️.

Yuu: Nope. It's okay. Feel free to ask me anything you'd want to know.

Azul: *whispering to himself* Well here goes nothing.

How do you know that everything is going to work out? How do you keep doing this? Every time an overblot occurs, your always able to pull through. How do you keep believing that it will be okay?🤨🤔🧐

Yuu only smiles sweetly and says.😊

Yuu: ✨Well. I'll tell you my secret sir.✨

Azul smirked sinisterly hopping to get some exclusive information.😈

Yuu lowered their head and a heavy shadow casted over their face. After a few moments they raised their head again, allowing others to see their face. Unlike how they were smiling sweetly moments ago, now they had a tired and loveless expression on their visage. Their eyes looked dead. They spoke in a whisper.

Yuu: I lie to myself.

At that moment the dorm leaders expressions were truly a sight to behold. They were confused, shocked, scared even. Confused because they didn't understand what the Perfect meant. Shocked because they have never even in their dreams had ever imagined to see the Perfect in a state like this. So broken, so tired like they've been going through an endless cycle everyday, so in need of love and affection. Scared because in the pits of their stomachs an odd feeling had started to form, like it was giving them a warning of some sort. After what felt like an eternity the Perfect continued.

Yuu: Every morning I wake up and look in the mirror and say "Everything is going to be okay". I say "One day Crowley will figure out the way to send me back. One day I'll be freed. One day this endless cycle will come to an end. One day the dreams will stop. The voices will be replaced with peaceful silence. The pain will fade away. The cuts will heal. The stains of blood caused by myself will wash away. The ink won't drip onto the crystals. The walls won't talk. The days will be filled with laughter again and I will be laughing with them too. The numbness will be gone. I'll finally find the piece of information that will enlighten me about how to go back." But I lie to myself.

The Perfect's expression changed again. This time into one of sadness. A small almost invisible broken smile on their beautiful lips. A tear rolling down their flawless cheek.

They whispered but loud enough for the others in the mirror chamber to be able to hear.

Yuu: I keep doing this everyday and I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this.

Please don't mind this. It's my pathetic attempt at an imagine.

Feel free to leave comments.

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.  

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part.  I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.  

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.  

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

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[ellasaustralia]

10 Interesting Australian Novels

1.)Shards By Shane Jiraiya Cummings

"Shards is dark fiction at its shortest and sharpest, a collection of disturbing stories from Australia's master of dark flash fiction, Shane Jiraiya Cummings. Each shard is an imaginative fragment, broken, sharp, and poised to draw blood."(Goodreads.com)

2.)Mutability of the Flesh by Matthew Trait

"Bone and sinew, veins and blood, piloted around by a mysterious force called consciousness.The human animal.Mark Tanner is more aware of his anatomic makeup than most. And his severe germaphobic OCD only makes the realization all the more potent. An employee at House of Haiti, Mark battles his disorder by giving rigorous attention to the store’s mannequins. With his appearance almost mirroring that of the mannequins in his phony smile and posture, he soon discovers he may have even more in common with the plastic tribe."(Goodreads.com)

3.)Last Year,When We Were Young by Andrew J. McKiernan

"'Last Year, When We Were Young' brings together 16 tales that defy conventions of genre and style, every one with an edge sharper than a razor and darker than a night on Neptune.From the darkly hilarious "All the Clowns in Clowntown" to the heart-breaking and disturbing title story, this debut collection from multi-award nominated author and illustrator Andrew J McKiernan pulls no punches."(Goodreads.com)

4.)Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

"A brilliant literary debut, inspired by a true story: the final days of a young woman accused of murder in Iceland in 1829.Set against Iceland's stark landscape, Hannah Kent brings to vivid life the story of Agnes, who, charged with the brutal murder of her former master, is sent to an isolated farm to await execution.Horrified at the prospect of housing a convicted murderer, the family at first avoids Agnes. Only Tóti, a priest Agnes has mysteriously chosen to be her spiritual guardian, seeks to understand her. But as Agnes's death looms, the farmer's wife and their daughters learn there is another side to the sensational story they've heard.Riveting and rich with lyricism, Burial Rites evokes a dramatic existence in a distant time and place, and asks the question, how can one woman hope to endure when her life depends upon the stories told by others?"(Goodreads.com)

5.)The Thorn Birds by Colleen McCullough

"The Thorn Birds is a robust, romantic saga of a singular family, the Clearys. It begins in the early part of the 20th century, when Paddy Cleary moves his wife, Fiona, and their seven children to Drogheda, the vast Australian sheep station owned by his autocratic and childless older sister; and it ends more than half a century later, when the only survivor of the third generation, the brilliant actress Justine O'Neill, sets a course of life and love halfway around the world from her roots.The central figures in this enthralling story are the indomitable Meggie, the only Cleary daughter, and the one man she truly loves, the stunningly handsome and ambitious priest Ralph de Bricassart. Ralph's course moves him a long way indeed, from a remote Outback parish to the halls of the Vatican; and Meggie's except for a brief and miserable marriage elsewhere, is fixed to the Drogheda that is part of her bones - but distance does not dim their feelings though it shapes their lives.Wonderful characters people this book; strong and gentle, Paddy, hiding a private memory; dutiful Fiona, holding back love because it once betrayed her, violent, tormented Frank, and the other hardworking Cleary sons who give the boundless lands of Drogheda the energy and devotion most men save for women; Meggie; Ralph; and Meggie's children, Justine and Dane. And the land itself; stark, relentless in its demands, brilliant in its flowering, prey to gigantic cycles of drought and flood, rich when nature is bountiful, surreal like no other place on earth."(Goodreads.com)

6.)Scrublands by Chris Hammer

"In an isolated country town brought to its knees by endless drought, a charismatic and dedicated young priest calmly opens fire on his congregation, killing five parishioners before being shot dead himself.A year later, troubled journalist Martin Scarsden arrives in Riversend to write a feature on the anniversary of the tragedy. But the stories he hears from the locals about the priest and incidents leading up to the shooting don't fit with the accepted version of events his own newspaper reported in an award-winning investigation. Martin can't ignore his doubts, nor the urgings of some locals to unearth the real reason behind the priest's deadly rampage.Just as Martin believes he is making headway, a shocking new development rocks the town, which becomes the biggest story in Australia. The media descends on Riversend and Martin is now the one in the spotlight. His reasons for investigating the shooting have suddenly become very personal.Wrestling with his own demons, Martin finds himself risking everything to discover a truth that becomes darker and more complex with every twist. But there are powerful forces determined to stop him, and he has no idea how far they will go to make sure the town's secrets stay buried." (Goodreads.com)

7.)The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart by Holly Ringland

"After her family suffers a tragedy when she is nine years old, Alice Hart is forced to leave her idyllic seaside home. She is taken in by her estranged grandmother, June, a flower farmer who raises Alice on the language of Australian native flowers, a way to say the things that are too hard to speak. But Alice also learns that there are secrets within secrets about her past. Under the watchful eye of June and The Flowers, women who run the farm, Alice grows up. But an unexpected betrayal sends her reeling, and she flees to the dramatically beautiful central Australian desert. Alice thinks she has found solace, until she falls in love with Dylan, a charismatic and ultimately dangerous man.The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart is a story about stories: those we inherit, those we select to define us, and those we decide to hide. It is a novel about the secrets we keep and how they haunt us, and the stories we tell ourselves in order to survive. Spanning twenty years, set between the lush sugar cane fields by the sea, a native Australian flower farm, and a celestial crater in the central desert, Alice must go on a journey to discover that the most powerful story she will ever possess is her own." (Goodreads.com)

8.)The Eulogy by Jackie Bailey

"It’s winter in Logan, south-east Queensland, and still warm enough to sleep in a car at night if you have nowhere else to go. But Kathy can’t sleep. Her husband is on her blocked caller list and she’s running from a kidnapping charge, a Tupperware container of 300 sleeping pills in her glovebox. She has driven from Sydney to plan a funeral with her five surviving siblings (most of whom she hardly speaks to) because their sister Annie is finally, blessedly, inconceivably dead from the brain tumour she was diagnosed with twenty-five years ago, the year everything changed.Kathy wonders – she has always wondered – did Annie get sick to protect her? And if so, from what?In writing Annie’s eulogy, Kathy attempts to understand the tangled story of the Bradley family: from their mother’s childhood during the Japanese occupation of Singapore in World War Two and their father’s experiences in the Malayan conflict and the Vietnam War, to Annie’s cancer and disability, and the events that have shaped the person that Kathy is today. Ultimately, Kathy needs Annie to help her decide whether she will allow herself to love and be loved."(Goodreads.com)

9.)Cloudstreet by Tim Winton

"Struggling to rebuild their lives after being touched by disaster, the Pickle family, who've inherited a big house called Cloudstreet in a suburb of Perth, take in the God-fearing Lambs as tenants. The Lambs have suffered their own catastrophes, and determined to survive, they open up a grocery on the ground floor. From 1944 to 1964, the shared experiences of the two overpopulated clans -- running the gamut from drunkenness, adultery, and death to resurrection, marriage, and birth -- bond them to each other and to the bustling, haunted house in ways no one could have anticipated."(Goodreads.com)

10.)A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute

"Jean Paget, a young Englishwoman living in Malaya, is captured by the invading Japanese and forced on a brutal seven-month death march with dozens of other women and children. A few years after the war, Jean is back in England, the nightmare behind her. However, an unexpected inheritance inspires her to return to Malaya to give something back to the villagers who saved her life. Jean's travels leads her to a desolate Australian outpost called Willstown, where she finds a challenge that will draw on all the resourcefulness and spirit that carried her through her war-time ordeals."(Goodreads.com)