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wingedblooms · 4 months

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Blooming dreams

Gardeners, I think, dream bigger dreams than emperors. (Mary Cantwell)

This meta is a continuation of my thoughts over the years, but especially the ones expressed in the following links. Please be aware that there are major hofas spoilers in this post and avoid if needed.

Secret, lovely seer / Forbidden secrets

A rose in the thorns / The flower of life

Seer, wise woman, witch / Three sisters witches / Starborn light

Since my first meta, I have been fixated on Elain’s connection to the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (let's call her Wyrd) and her potential powers, including sight, shapeshifting, and healing. They are all related when you’re talking about Wyrd, though I am not here to say what I have written is what Sarah has planned. This post is more a love letter to Sarah’s mystical and earthy depiction of Elain and what I would love to see in her story based on all the seeds she’s planted (and if there is an actual magical bean seed involved, I’ll love her all the more for it). Thanks especially to @psychologynerd for previewing this fever dream of a post.

I gazed again at that sad, dark house—the place that had been a prison. Elain had said she missed it, and I wondered what she saw when she looked at the cottage. If she beheld not a prison but a shelter—a shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (acotar)

From the first book in the series, Feyre recognizes that Elain views things differently. She views things that are sad and dark with hope, and that’s why Sarah has called her the quiet dreamer. It’s a strength that sets her apart. I like to think that’s also what the Cauldron—though warped by the Asteri—saw when she was forced into its womb.

The Cauldron seemed to realize what she’d done, too, as his head thumped onto the mossy ground. That Elain…Elain had defended this thief. Elain, who it had gifted with such powers, found her so lovely it had wanted to give her something…It would not harm Elain, even in its hunt to reclaim what had been taken. (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes and I wondered if it may have recognized Elain as a kindred spirit, some echo of its Mother form. A creator, life-bringer. Were the waters of the Cauldron more like Silba’s Womb—a darkness of creation, sweet and lovely—when Elain was immersed? Or is it possible that when Elain entered its dark womb she viewed it differently than her sister? Did she see a wounded creator to help rather than an enemy to combat?

Elain’s hopeful perspective might be why it gifted her with such powers, powers that we know allow her to see differently than others. And since it may have enhanced her unique perception, I wonder if it also enhanced her ability to bring life and beauty into the world. As a gardener, Elain is well acquainted with the task of envisioning her garden and then getting her hands dirty to make that vision a reality. Dream and reality are entwined in gardening, just like her Sight.

“She loves to garden. Always loved growing things. Even when we were destitute, she managed to tend a little garden in the warmer months. And when–when our fortune returned, she took to tending and planting the most beautiful gardens you’ve ever seen. Even in Prythian. It drove the servants mad, because they were supposed to do the work and ladies were only meant to clip a rose here and there, but Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.” (acowar) If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta…she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. [...] Nesta stared them all down. Elain kept her focus on the dry, rocky ground. (acowar) She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind…Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers–or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (acowar) If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s…They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon. (acowar) “What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this…I think the world needs more gardens.” (acowar)

As we saw in acosf for Nesta—a new type of warrior who forges magical swords and retrieves the Harp from an ancient fortress (the Prison) connected to the Starborn—these descriptions are clearly meant to foreshadow what occurs in the sisters’ stories. While Nesta is a freshly forged sword, Elain is blooming life in Illyria. And what do we learn in hofas?

“The Cauldron,” Nesta said hours later, pointing to yet another carving on the wall. It indeed showed a giant cauldron, perched atop what seemed to be a barren mountain peak with three stars above it. Azriel halted, angling his head. “That’s Ramiel.” At Bryce’s questioning look, he explained, “A mountain sacred to the Illyrians.” Bryce nodded to the carving. “What’s the big deal about a cauldron?” [...] “All life came and comes from it,” Azriel said with something like reverence. “The Mother poured it into this world, and from it, life blossomed.” (hofas)

We receive confirmation that the Cauldron is associated with the sister peaks, as I suspected, and Ramiel in particular as @merymoonbeam has previously suggested.

Before Bryce could contemplate this further, Silene went on, But my mother and father knew they needed the most valuable of all the Daglan’s weapons. Bryce tensed. This had to be the thing that had given them the edge— The snows around Ramiel parted, revealing a massive bowl of iron at the foot of the monolith. Even through the vision, its presence leaked into the world, a heavy, ominous thing. “The Cauldron,” Nesta said, dread lacing her voice. […] “The Cauldron was of our world, our heritage. But upon arriving here, the Daglan captured it and used their powers to warp it. To turn it from what it had been into something deadlier. No longer just a tool of creation, but of destruction. And the horrors it produced…those, too, my parents would turn to their advantage.” [...] “They fought the Daglan and won, she went on. Using the Daglan’s own weapons, they destroyed them. Yet my parents did not think to learn the Daglan’s other secrets—they were too weary, too eager to leave the past behind.” (hofas)

In Forbidden secrets, I theorized that Elain’s powers might allow her to map the secrets of the land in order to heal it and @offtorivendell discussed magical mounds in her theory on reviving dusk. It seems like the Asteri did indeed leave secrets behind, which might explain why certain places continue to be forbidden and barren. But we are given hope that they do not need to remain that way. In hofas, Bryce wakes and wields the land belonging to her Starborn ancestors on the Prison island:

And precisely as Theia had gifted her own power to Silene … perhaps Silene had in turn left that same power here, to be claimed by a future scion. One by one, rapid as shooting stars, the thoughts raced through Bryce. More on instinct than anything else, she dropped to her knees and slammed her hand atop the eight-pointed star. Bryce reached with her mind, through layers of rock and earth—and there it was. Slumbering beneath her. Not firstlight, not as she knew it on Midgard—but raw Fae power from a time before the Drop. The power ascended toward her through the stone, like a glimmering arrow fired into the dark— [...] Like a small sun emerging from the stone itself, a ball of light burst from the floor. A star, twin to the one in Bryce’s chest. Her starlight at last awoke again, as if reaching with shining fingers for that star hovering inches away. With trembling hands, Bryce guided the star to the one gleaming on her chest. Into her body. White light erupted everywhere. Power, uncut and ancient, scorched through her veins. The hair on her head rose. Debris floated upward. She was everywhere and nowhere. She was the evening star and the last rays of color before the dark. Azriel had nearly reached the tunnel. Another flap of his wings and he’d be swallowed by its dark mouth. But at a mere thought from Bryce, stalactites and stalagmites formed, closing in on him. The room became a wolf, its jaws snapping for the winged warrior— The rock had moved for her, as it had for Silene. “Stop him,” she said in a voice that was more like her father’s than anything she’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Azriel swept for the tunnel archway—and slammed into a wall of stone. The exit had sealed. Slowly, he turned, wings rustling. Blood trickled out of his nose from his face-first collision with the rock now in his path. He spread his wings, bracing for a fight. The mountain shook, the chamber with it. Debris fell from the ceiling. Walls began shifting, rock groaning against rock. As if the place this had once been was fighting to emerge from the stone. [...] From far away, she could sense it: the things lurking within the mountain, her mountain. Twisted, wretched creatures. Some had been here since Silene had trapped them. Had been contemplating their escape and revenge all this time. She’d let them out if she restored the mountain to its former glory. And in that moment, the mountain—the island—spoke to her. Alone. It was so alone—it had been waiting all this time. Cold and adrift in this thrashing gray sea. If she could reach out, if she could open her heart to it…it might sing again. Awaken. There was a beating, vibrant heart locked away, far beneath them. If she freed it, the land would rise from its slumber, and such wonders would spring again from its earth— (hofas)

The mountain–Bryce’s mountain–speaks to her, asking her to open her heart to it so it can finally rise from its slumber. Cue internal screaming, my friends, because this language was intentional and it might finally explain Elain’s conversation in this scene:

She looked away—toward the windows. “I can hear your heart,” she said quietly. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing, and drained his tea, even as it burned his mouth. “When I sleep,” she murmured, “I can hear your heart beating through the stone.” She angled her head, as if the city view held some answer. “Can you hear mine?” He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.” (acowar)

Elain’s hearing is a source of concern after she is Made because it is unusually heightened; she hears so many things, usually connected to the nature around her as @silverlinedeyes theorized. Like calls to like, and so she might be able to hear the beating heart of the land around her, even as it slumbers. Perhaps that is why her eyes were drawn to the barren ground in Illyria.

Vesperus, an Asteri trapped in a glass coffin below the Prison, tells us more about the connection between the Cauldron and the land:

“I am the Evening Star,” Vesperus seethed. Bryce rolled her eyes. “Fine, we’ll call you the Evening Star, too. Happy?” “Is it not fitting?” A wave of long fingers capped in sharp nails. “I drank from the land’s magic, and the land’s magic drank from me.” [...] Vesperus folded her hands in her lap. “A planet that was once green, as this one is.” “And that wasn’t good enough?” “We grew too populous. Wars broke out between the various beings on our world. Some of us saw the changes in the land beginning—rivers run dry, clouds so thick the sun could not pierce them—and left. Our brightest minds found ways to bend the fabric of worlds. To travel between them. Wayfarers, we called them. World-walkers.” [...] “Once we left our home world, our powers began to dim. Too late, we realized that we had been dependent on our land’s inherent magic. The magic in other worlds was not potent enough. Yet we could not find the way back home. Those of us who ventured here found ways to amplify that power, thanks to the gifts of the land. We pooled our power, and imbued those gifts into the Cauldron so that it would work our will. We Made the Trove from it. And then bound the very essence of the Cauldron to the soul of this world.” Solas. “So destroy the Cauldron…” “And you destroy this world. One cannot exist without the other.”

This should come as no surprise because we saw this play out in acowar, but the Cauldron is tied to the soul of their world. The term soul is intentional, and we will return to it in a bit, but I started to wonder in Forbidden secrets about that connection. The influence of Wyrd is especially clear in the sacred peaks, where the Asteri left behind their secrets. Could Elain unravel the Asteri’s magic from the slumbering heart of the earth, and unbind the Cauldron as a result? Or will she need to go to Cretea to retrieve and purify the magic of the Asteri from the Cauldron like a healer would, in body and in spirit? (Hello, Nephelle celebrations, let’s go.) Nothing feels more right than seeing our strong-willed gardener get her hands dirty as she rips out the Asteri from the root, or beating heart, of their world. Sarah may have even hinted at this role for Elain as she describes getting into her mind for her book:

“There was literally ivy everywhere: in the garden beds, wrapped around the trees, crawling up the sides of the house. So I went into this obsessive, I-need-to-rip-out-every-last-strand-of-ivy-before-I-have-this-baby mode. And I remember the entire time I was ripping out the ivy, and trying to get some semblance of order into the garden beds, I just slipped into Elain’s head. Elain is a gardener, and everything I did during those weeks became research for her book. I’m not even joking. Elain’s now going to have dreams about ripping ivy out and the ivy creeping in through the windows to strangle her at night, because let me tell you, that ivy does not want to go.” (Sarah’s interview in acofas)

English ivy is an aggressive invader and its hosts decline over time before they die. That’s exactly what the Asteri are: aggressive invaders that feed off of their hosts, warping the power of the land for their sole benefit, until it begins to wither away. In hofas, we learn that the Asteri hid their power throughout the land, including at the root of sacred mountains:

Vesperus backed up a half step, hissing at the gleaming weapon. “We hid pockets of our power throughout the lands, in case the vermin should cause … problems. It seems our wisdom did not fail us.”

“There are no such places,” Azriel countered coldly.

“Are there not?” Vesperus grinned broadly, showing all of her too-white teeth. “Have you looked beneath every sacred mountain? At their very roots? The magic draws all sorts of creatures. I can sense them even now, slithering about, gnawing on the magic. My magic. They’re as much vermin as the rest of you.” (hofas)

And we see the moment Bryce discovers that Vesperus has hidden her power in the root of the Prison mountain, which is what sustains her and weakens the land:

Bryce clutched the Starsword tighter. Its power thudded into her palms like a heartbeat. “But why store your power here? It’s an island—not exactly an easy pit stop.” “There are certain places, girl, that are better suited to hold power than others. Places where the veil between worlds is thin, and magic naturally abounds. Our light thrives in such environments, sustained by the regenerative magic of the land.” She gestured around them. “This island is a thin place—the mists around it declare it so.” […] “Every world has at least one thin place,” Vesperus drawled. “And there are always certain people more suited to exploit it—to claim its powers, to travel through them to other worlds.” […] “Theia had the gift,” Vesperus said, “but did not understand how to claim the light. I made sure never to reveal how during her training—how she might light up entire worlds, if she wished, if she seized the power to amplify her own. But you, Light-Stealer…She must have passed the gift down to you. And it seems you have learned what she did not.” Vesperus peered at her bare feet, the rock beneath. “Theia never learned how to access the power I cached beneath my palace. She had no choice but to leave it there, buried in the veins of this mountain. Her loss—and my gain.” Oh gods. There was a fucking firstlight core here, far beneath their feet— (hofas)

These thin places are where ley lines—highways for magic and communication—overlap, allowing travel for those who are suited to it (wayfarers). Starborn and Asteri alike seem to be suited to these places, and have used them to store their power, causing the land around it to wither.

“Ley lines,” Bryce breathed. Aidas nodded. “These lines are capable of moving magic, but also carrying communications across great distances.” Like those between the Gates of Crescent City, the way she’d spoken to Danika the day she’d made the Drop. “There are ley lines across the whole of the universe. And the planets—like Midgard, like Hel, like the home world of the Fae—atop those lines are joined by time and space and the Void itself. It thins the veils separating us. The Asteri have long chosen worlds that are on the ley lines for that exact purpose. It made it easier to move between them, to colonize those planets. There are certain places on each of these worlds where the most ley lines overlap, and thus the barrier between worlds is at its weakest.” Everything slotted together. “Thin places,” Bryce said with sudden certainty. “Precisely,” Apollion answered for Aidas with an approving nod. “The Northern Rift, the Southern Rift—both lie atop a tremendous knot of ley lines. And while those under Avallen are not as strong, the island is unique as a thin place thanks to the presence of black salt—which ties it to Hel.” “And the mists?” Hunt asked. “What’s the deal with them?” “The mists are a result of the ley lines’ power,” Aidas said. “They’re an indication of a thin place. Hoping to find a ley line strong enough to help her transfer and hide Theia’s power, Helena sent a fleet of Fae with earth magic to scour every misty place they could find on Midgard. When they told her of a place wreathed in mists so thick they could not pierce them, Helena went to investigate. The mists parted for her—as if they had been waiting. She found the small network of caves on Avallen … and the black salt beneath the surface.”

All of the sister peaks thrum with power and are at odds with the land around them. Barren. They might all be thin places, interconnected through ley lines...and hiding a cache of magic in the root (heart) of their souls.

Bryce’s ancestors, separated by the Void, planted clues for those with the gifts and vision to see it.

What had looked like etched seas or rivers of stars now filled in with starlight, became … alive. Moving, cascading, coursing. A secret illustration, only for those with the gifts and vision to see it. (hofas)

A secret carved in stone. What secrets remain under other sacred mountains, such as Ramiel? Is it any coincidence that Enalius, who defended Ramiel, was the owner of Truth-Teller? Or that the Cauldron is depicted there? Who would be equipped with the gifts and vision to uncover those secrets and finally set the soul of the land free, like Bryce?

“Light blasted up through the blades into her hands, her arms, her heart. Bryce could hear it through her feet, through the stone. The song of the land beneath her. Quiet and old and forgotten, but there. She heard how Avallen had yielded its joy, its bright green lands and skies and flowers, so it might hold the power as it was bid, waiting all this time for someone to unleash it. To free it. […] Helena had bound the soul of this land in magical chains. No more. No more would Bryce allow the Fae to lay claim over anything. “You’re free,” Bryce whispered to Avallen, to the land and the pure, inherent magic beneath it. “Be free.” And it was. (hofas)

Helena bound the soul of Avallen in magical chains. Doesn't that sound like what the Asteri did with the Cauldron and the land? There are so many hints that Elain is set up to address this plot, but the one I find the most compelling is given by the Under-King when he confirms who Urd (Wyrd) is:

The Under-King lounged on a throne beneath a behemoth statue of a figure holding a black metal bowl between her upraised hands. Symbols were carved all over the bowl, continuing down her fingers, her arms, her body. Ithan could only assume it was meant to represent Urd. No other temples ever depicted the goddess, no one even dared—most people claimed that fate was impossible to portray in any one form. But it seemed that the dead, unlike the living, had a vision of her. And those symbols running from the bowl onto her skin…they were like tattoos.” […] “And she,” the Under-King went on, gesturing to that unusual depiction of Urd towering above him, “was not a goddess, but a force that governed worlds. A cauldron of life, brimming with the language of creation. Urd, they call her here—a bastardized version of her true name. Wyrd, we called her in that old world.” (hofas)

Now, doesn't that sound familiar?

Her gaze shifted to the carved wooden rose she’d placed upon the mantel, half-hidden in the shadows beside a figurine of a supple-bodied female, her upraised arms clasping a full moon between them. Some sort of primal goddess—perhaps even the Mother herself. Nesta hadn’t let herself dwell on why she’d felt the need to set the rose there. Why she hadn’t just thrown it in a drawer. (acosf)

The statues are essentially the same and Wyrd has already been described in terms that evoke the Mother, Cauldron, and Fate (Forces That Be). And Nesta just happened to feel the need (fateful tug?) to place Elain’s rose—a symbol of life and joy and beauty—right next to Urd, and drew our attention to it again in the final scene of her story. What do you want to bet that Wyrd, the Stone Mother, gave her favorite gardener the gifts and vision she needs to make her dream of building more gardens, of breathing life and beauty into the land, a reality?

Sarah has confirmed that the main female characters in her books are helped by others, usually a love interest and friends. So who might be foreshadowed to help Elain?

I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. (acowar) - “I’ll help you,” Nesta offered. But Elain shook her head. “Nuala and Cerridwen will help me.” Then she was gone–shoulders a little squarer. - It was three by the time the others went to bed. [...] Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. (acofas)

It’s no coincidence that the characters closest to Elain possess unique powers that complement her own and relate specifically to the elements of Stone Mother. Azriel learned to speak the language of shadow and wind and stone, while the half-wraith twins are nothing but shadow and mist, able to walk through walls, stone as @psychee92 discusses here. Their magic likely thrives in thin parts of the world. It also isn't a coincidence that Nesta noticed and wondered this:

“You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends. (acosf)

Their beautiful, wraith-like team has the gifts necessary to traverse the slumbering heart of the earth as easily as foreign courts, which is a hard combination to find and is uniquely suited for Elain’s mission to release the Cauldron and land from the magical chains of the Asteri. Especially since we learn that Bryce uses both blades of the Starborn to free Avallen from its magical chains:

On an exhale, she plunged the weapons into the slits in the eight-pointed star. The small one for the knife. The larger one for the sword.

And like a key turning in a lock, they released what lay beneath. (hofas)

They even help Bryce rid the land of the Asteri and their core of power, creating a larger void to devour the one the Asteri set in place. Back in acowar, as many have noticed, Sarah already planted this moment between Azriel and Elain:

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection…that knife. (acowar)

She and Azriel seem to represent the balance of light and dark in the Starsword and Truth-Teller, as @merymoonbeam theorized. The Starborn blade—the one belonging to Enalius—is a bridge of connection between them. Bryce leaves the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller with Nesta, encouraging her to learn about her connection to the Starborn (eight-pointed star). That might mean the Archeron Starborn connection may happen after all. I could see Elain wielding those blades when needed, activating their magic as she seemed to do with Truth-Teller, to release the land from its magical chains. It would also be interesting if Elain and Azriel functioned like the Made blades themselves, releasing the Asteri’s chains with their own blend of raw magic, and watching joyously as life blooms in earnest again.

Once they remove the magical chains of the Asteri—on the land and their sacred Cauldron—perhaps we’ll also discover what exists between Elain and Azriel at last:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports–likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City–the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

“I’d keep that question from Lucien.”

“I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

Rhys straightened his lapels before plucking an invisible piece of lint from them. “Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron’s swirling eddies…” (acowar)

@silverlinedeyes, @offtorivendell, @elriell and others have written extensively about mating bonds, so I won’t discuss that in depth here. Essentially, Feysand and Nessian appear to have bonds that are true in spirit, and they are described as living threads of pure golden light between their souls.

Thread after thread of pure golden light flowed into him, and he met it with his own. Where those threads wove together, life glowed like starfire, and she had never seen anything more beautiful, felt anything more beautiful. (acosf)

This living light reminds me of the dawn, which is associated with healing and new beginnings. When Feysand and Nessian bind their souls together in these scenes, the dawn is invoked each time:

Feysand

…I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world. (acomaf)

Nessian

Cassian roared as he came, and the sound was the summons of a hunt, a symphony, a single clear horn playing as dawn broke over the world. (acosf)

And when Azriel first sees Elain in his bonus chapter, her hair is unbound and she appears like the dawn, gilded in living light on the longest night of the year.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.

The Faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. (Azriel’s bonus chapter)

Is it possible that, with Elain’s connection to Wyrd and the land, her own threads of life are similarly chained, or warped? Perhaps when Elain clears away the Asteri’s power, we will finally see the truth blooming between them: threads of golden light twining together in an endless, earthy melody.

#hofas spoilers #hofas #acotar #crossover theories #elain archeron #azriel #nuala and cerridwen #urd goddess #stone mother #mother cauldron fate #forbidden secrets follow up #healing the land #she has the gifts and vision #elriel #elain x azriel #this was written like a fever dream #i may need to reblog more later

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madaqueue · 1 month

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what a waste | "army dreamers" x kate bush

synopsis: on what would have his twentieth birthday, you visit geto's grave

pairing: suguru geto x reader

themes/content: semi-canon curse au. angst. language. death/loss.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: here's some angst bc i've been in a mood for the past few days and am allergic to being happy!

The grass is damp under your skin, the rain from this morning clinging to your clothes, the smell of wet earth lingering despite the absence of clouds in the sky. This is the closest it’s gotten to raining on this day in years, what would be a sign of late winter opening into spring, but today it just feels dreary and cold.

Sighing, you place the bouquet of lilacs - his favorites - onto the stone, careful to not cover the plaque adorning the granite. At this point you could recite it in its entirety without needing to see it, the words burned into your mind from the countless days you spent reading and rereading it, hoping that the shape of the characters would finally make it sink in.

Suguru Geto

Cherished and loved.

The epitaph still feels halfhearted, empty. Even though you and Satoru spent weeks trying to figure out what to write, everything you came up with felt hollow, unable to capture his essence. You wanted to do him justice, but you just couldn’t; he’s more than a plot of land and some words engraved in stone.

Of course, it’s a moot point: the grave is empty, anyways. After the fight against Toji, Shoko had to completely destroy his body, the risk of it being used maliciously too great. A shudder runs down your spine as you picture it, the cruelty of using your best friend’s corpse for something malevolent.

Would he notice? Would it bother him to know what had happened to his flesh? What makes a person, anyways; is it the body, or is it something else? You hope he doesn’t mind what had to happen to him after his heart quieted and his breathing stilled.

Are you at peace, Suguru?

You can’t help but wonder if, after everything, death brought him a respite from the pain he endured while alive. You knew the nature of his cursed technique, the necessary consumption of evil; in absorbing it, did it make him, too, evil? Was he plagued by the darkness he was destined to destroy?

You hope not. Despite the wickedness he witnessed, he nevertheless dreamed, hoping for a brighter future.

–

“What did you wanna be when you were a kid?” you ask through a mouthful of ramen.

Suguru sits across from you in the booth, forearms resting on the table as he eats his lunch. “What do you mean?” he questions, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“What did you want for a job? There’s no way you wanted to be a sorcerer,” you chuckle. “Like, I wanted to be one of those people who makes the cool brick patterns along sidewalks.”

He holds back a laugh at your answer. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I ever really thought about it.” He pauses, taking another bite of his food. “But I guess if I had to pick, probably a musician or something, maybe guitar, I always liked how they could make something sound beautiful with just their hands,” he muses softly.

“I could totally see you on a sick guitar,” you grin.

“Yeah, but I got my cursed technique too early. I never really got a chance to do anything but this,” he shrugs. “Maybe in another life.”

“Maybe,” you smile.

–

Now, the guitar you picked out for him, an acoustic one crafted in dark wood, sits in the back of your closet collecting dust. You were supposed to give it to him for his birthday. He was supposed to play it. He was supposed to be here, be alive, be celebrating with you.

Pain shoots up your palm as you look down, realizing your hands have been clenched into fists, your nails beginning to draw blood. Shaking out your arms you take in an uneven breath, a desperate attempt to steady yourself.

All the things he never got to do.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper to yourself, placing a bloodied hand over the grass covering his grave.

He should be here. He never even got to turn twenty, never got to have kids or the family he wanted, hell, he was just a kid himself when he died. Just a fucking kid.

–

“That…that can’t be right,” you stammer. “There’s no way.”

“I’m sorry,” Satoru places a hand on your back, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. “I - fuck - I couldn’t save him. I was too late.”

“No, no, no, no,” you begin to spiral, gaze rapidly shifting over the ground as you process his words.

Suguru was dead. Killed by a man named Toji Fushiguro, trying to protect the Star Plasma Vessel, the one who was supposed to assimilate with Master Tengen.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened,” Satoru chokes out, “But…I saw his body. He’s gone.”

A scream echoes down the corridor - was it yours? Everything feels far away as Gojo wraps his arms around you, sobs racking your body as you cry into one another.

–

Shaking your head, you wipe the tears that have begun to fall as you remember the day you lost him. Despite the years that have passed, you remember it like it was yesterday, the way the setting sun covered you and Satoru as the night air came in, unable to move from that spot as you wept together.

The sickest fucking part was that it didn’t even matter.

When Riko Amanai, the Vessel, was found dead, they just got a replacement, another body to stand in for Master Tengen’s needs. They told Suguru to protect her with his life and he did, but ultimately the loss of hers was inconsequential to the upkeep of Jujutsu society; just as one flower died they plucked another.

But they couldn’t regrow Suguru’s soul.

–

Four men.

That’s how many it took to carry his body from the basement of Jujutsu High. You watched in silence as they passed you, unspeaking, unwavering, unbothered as they bore his weight.

It feels wrong, somehow, like he should be heavier. He always had this gravitational pull, this universe-sized soul that drew everything to him - shouldn’t they be able to feel that?

How heavy is a body? How heavy is the grief it carries?

–

“Hey,” a voice pulls you back to the present, the sun beginning to hang low in the sky as you ground yourself, idly tugging at the dirt beneath you. “I’m glad to see you,” Satoru greets warmly as he walks across the graveyard towards you.

Since the last time you saw him he’s aged, the creases around his eyes deeper than a twenty-year-old’s should be, an air of sadness clinging to him like wet clothes after being caught in the rain.

“You too,” you smile as he sits next to you in the damp grass.

Neither of you explicitly make plans to see each other here every year, yet you both tacitly know you wouldn’t miss this, the annual reconvening one you simultaneously cherish and dread. Suguru deserves to be celebrated, but it’s also a reminder of the time he didn’t get, the birthdays cut short when his life was stolen from him.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, content without speaking as a cool breeze picks up, dusk settling in.

“He should be here,” Satoru mutters, his knees tucked up to his chest.

“I know,” you murmur as you lay on your back, gaze unfocused on the darkening sky above you.

Another momentary pause falls between you.

“Did you love him?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer truthfully. “Did you?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Satoru?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you think that was enough, that we loved him?”

He tilts his head to look down at the grave that separates you, the lilacs you brought now lightly covered in a layer of dew. Sighing, he brushes away the tears that had been forming along his lash line. “I hope so.”

“I hope so, too.”

He reaches an arm out to you, holding your hand in his as you both place your empty palms onto the dirt.

“Happy birthday, Suguru,” you whisper.

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likeapriceless-wine · 13 days

Text

Night Terrors

Guess what !! You can respond to this in character (if you want)! And if someone has already responded you can backtrack and start from the beginning with your character or slide in whenever you please the timeline is whatever we make it babes. Jump in wherever you see fit

Tw for sa implications and just general trauma and nightmares. This one may not be great for those with emetophobia as well, though I tried not to be too graphic bc I'm emetophobic too lmao

@glowsticks-soda-and-magic @cabin-12-resident-daddy-issues @dawn-lovelace @im-always-highhhh @childofthewargod

C.J woke up with a start, his eyes wide and his hands clutching the blankets so hard his knuckles were white

Dreams were never fun for demigods. They were almost always nightmares, sometimes damn near prophetic ones at that. Some were replays of past events that felt so horribly real that you had to do a reality check when you woke back up, and others seemed like they meant something, like something horrible was on it's way

Tonight's unconscious trauma movie that played in C.J's head was the casino. Gods, he fucking hated that place. The lotus in the air that earned the establishment it's name had long since worn off, and C.J remembered damn near everything that happened in there, whether he wanted to or not

He felt dirty handprints on his body, on his back and his chest, trailing all the way down to areas his pants covered

He heard disgusting, seductive whispers that made him feel like his last meal was coming back up his throat. He could feel the name 'Hermes' being whispered in his ear, and that finally did it

His stomach churned and he whispered a few curses under his breath and involuntary tears welled up in his eyes

Of course he had to be nauseous. After all, a nightmare wouldn't be complete without him hyperventilating, throwing up, or laying awake the rest of the night because his brain wouldn't let him risk another nightmare. Or some godsforsaken combination of the three if he was particularly unlucky

Tonight was looking like one of those nights

Most of the beds in the dionysus cabin were pushed together to make one big mattress, and Marjorie tended to use him as a pillow, so it was a bit of a struggle to scramble the way he was without waking anyone, or kicking Klaus in the gut

He ran off to the bathroom as quietly as he could, covering his mouth as his breathing started to get shaky

"Fuck fuck fuck" he murmured to himself as he shut the door, turning on the faucet and getting his empty flask out of his pocket to fill it with water

Drinking water would help, right? He at least hoped it would. He sipped it slowly, trying to calm down his breathing

'Cmon C.J, in through your nose out through your mouth. You're fine, you'll probably never even see him again' he thought to himself

'Goddammit, C.J, breathe or you're gonna hyperventilate and throw up or somethin!'

He tried humming Kate Bush's Army Dreamers to try and knock some sense into himself, but nevertheless he ended up throwing up in the sink

"Fuck" he whispered to himself, bracing his elbows on the edge of the sink and burying his face in his hands, wiping his mouth

He slumped down into the floor and pulled his hoodie up over his head, pulling the drawstrings in the hood to tighten it around his face and block out the light that was stinging his eyes

Great, it was gonna be one of those nights

#out of character #ray writes

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bobparkhurst · 2 months

Text

a totally unbiased (no) and mostly serious (i guess) spoiler-free primer

I've seen a bunch of posts floating around encouraging people into the fandom, or HBO War people looking for a new fandom/show to sink their teeth into. Here's my effot to add to the propaganda, because I've been in this fandom since Nov '22, it's delightful here and I always love a new SASRH friend to chat to.

tl;dr: it's a lot of fun

premise & setting

SAS: Rogue Heroes is the story of the founding of the original* Special Air Service (SAS) of the British Army during WW2. It centres three of the initial founders, David Stirling, Blair 'Paddy' Mayne and Jock Lewes. Two of other men credited as founding the SAS, Bill Fraser and Georges Bergé also feature. Bill Stirling, David's older brother and integral to the founding of the SAS, will feature in series 2.

Series 1 is 6 episodes long, covering events from the North African campaign from May '41 through Jan '43. Series 2 has been filmed and will move the action to Europe.

Based largely on the book, SAS: Rogue Heroes by Ben Macintyre.

*it was disbanded in Oct '45, and reformed in '47, ultimately leading, through various machinations, to the modern day SAS.

historical accuracy

Somewhat more fast and loose with history than Band of Brothers, The Pacific or Masters of the Air, but not bad enough to send historians spiralling into deep despair, with one very important caveat: the depiction of Paddy Mayne. More on him and this in a moment. However, it has generally been well received. Damien Lewis (the author and historian, not the actor) said "...it's reasonably realistic. It tells a great yarn. I think they've used some artistic license, I can understand why they've done so to a certain extent... Generally they've got the equipment and the kit bang on, I think they had some very good advisers." (here)

There are some weird timeline issues, which I think is caused largely by odd pacing and editing. I'd not worry about this too much, otherwise you'll break your brain. Likewise, liberties have been taken with the geography, which I think is a bit more heinous, but ymmv.

characters: lads lads lads lads lads

after the first four, these are in no order of importance, before anyone gets on at me about their favourite. i also appreciate there are other characters but this bit was already getting really long.

david stirling (connor swindells) - the dreamer

Arrogant, manipulative, clever, charismatic bastard. David Stirling is fueled chiefly by daddy issues and an inferiority complex a mile wide. Connor Swindells walks a beautiful line between swagger and vulnerability. He does not let things like "common sense", "safety precautions" or "understanding the implications" get in the way of doing important things like flinging himself out of a plane in the middle of the desert or talking his way into army bases armed with nothing but crutches and chutzpah.

blair 'paddy' mayne (jack o'connell) - the madman

Paddy Mayne my BELOVED. Character of all time. He's a drinker, a fighter and abhors a bully. For most of the show, we see him at his most desperate and most angry and arguably most violent. HOWEVER, he's also a highly intelligent, sensitive, compassionate poet and voracious reader; if there's a bunch of poetry being quoted, it's probably Paddy doing it. He loves so very deeply. His depiction in the show is a bit of a bone of contention with family and historians - some people read him as being depicted as a violent thug only, and that's not what the real Blair Mayne was like. Which is simultaneously true and not true. Blair Mayne was an incredibly complicated man.

The other contentious-to-some point is that the show does deliberately suggest his queerness, something Jack O'Connell has talked about in interviews. Some people have taken issue with this. Either way, for those who saw the sand wrestling gifs and wanted to know if SASRH was just queerbaiting, the answer is no, actually. But don't expect anything explicit on this front.

Jack O'Connell looks like he's having a fucking fantastic time.

jock lewes (alfie allen) - the creator

In real life, Jock Lewes was nicknamed "The Wizard", how great is that? David, Paddy and David met in training and are referred to in show as "the Three Musketeers". He is basically the mediator between Paddy and David, which sounds dull, except Jock is also batshit and clever and scary. He makes all the lads do intense marches in the desert without water, but is never willing to ask someone to do what he wouldn't do. Trouble is, as mentions, he is batshit so his standards are VERY VERY HIGH. He also has a fiancee, Mirren, whomst he loves very much and their relationship is so tender and brings me to tears on the regular.

eve mansour (sofia boutella)

Eve works for French Military Intelligence and quietly drives a lot of action behind the scenes. She's a totally fictional invention for the show and I'd be madder about it if Sofia Boutella wasn't being gorgeous and smart all over the place. She is focused on the goal and is generally just. Queen.

dudley clarke (dominic west)

Not so much a member of the SAS as the guy who helps Stirling bring this plan to fruition. He's great fun, charming and affable, and just as dangerous as anyone else. Dudley Clarke doesn't get enough credit, I think.

mike sadler (tom glynn-carney)

Mike Sadler my OTHER beloved. I joke about Mike coming to fix all the stuff around my flat that doesn't work and it's because he's singlehandedly the most competent member of the entire SAS, I think. His introduction scene is the sexiest thing on the entire show. He only gets introduced in episode 3, but in my heart we have six seasons and a movie with him. He's a member of the Long Range Desert Group and knows more about navigating the landscape than anyone. The LRDG are barely part of the show (save for Mike) and are well worth looking up.

IRL Mike Sadler actually only passed away this year, at the age of 103.

eoin mcgonigal (dónal finn)

Most of what Eoin's around for in SAS: RH is to hang out being impossibly beautiful and being ride or die for Paddy Mayne. Dónal Finn and Jack O'Connell created the most beautiful relationship told in touches. Drives me mad. He's also the first one who really understands who Paddy is beyond the brash and violent front. Eoin McGonigal is certainly a creature.

bill fraser, johnny cooper, reg seekings, jim almonds, dave kershaw, pat riley

(stuart campbell, jacob mccarthy, theo barklem-biggs, corin silva, bobby schofield, jacob ifan)

Look, there are a lot of lads and I can't do them all justice. Some of these folks get a lot more to do than the others, and they're all distinct characters in their own right. There are two matched set duos, Reg & Johnny (enemies to lovers, 150k) and Jim & Pat (do not seperate). Jim & Pat were Jock's crew prior to the SAS and the way he gets them to join is basically by saying "hey, there's a really stupid and dangerous thing i want to do, you in?" and they do this:

each and every one of them is as bad as the others.

augustin jordan, georges bergé, andré zirnheld

Free French paratroopers, who Stirling is reluctantly forced into accepting into the SAS by Eve and Clarke. TBF, this is where SAS: RH really starts playing with history, though it serves the narrative well enough. Show!Augustin Jordan was a former professor of Philosophy at La Sorbonne, and is also a tall dark haired man, so you can see how Paddy Mayne is gonna struggle.

I had to use the sand wrestling gif here (that's augustin), you've probably seen it. It's a surprisingly interesting character scene, would you believe.

There are several other named characters, but I'm running out of energy.

other stuff

OK, so I've lost my thread here a bit. SAS: Rogue Heroes is fun, first and foremost. It really does fall down on the side of "Cool Boys Doing War", so if that's not your thing, maybe you'll not enjoy it. I personally do. And I think it does have some further depth to it than that, even if that's where it comes back to. I've never seen Peaky Blinders, but apparently it's a bit like that? IDK.

While it's very violent, I don't think it's as brutal as the HBO War shows. It's a much more heightened kind of drama, so there's a step removal I think, from the really visceral. That said, it's still a war drama, and it does feature some very nasty business.

soundtrack

it's mostly hard rock and if you don't like this, idk what to tell you. i fucking love it. once again though, mike sadler gets the best of this. you'll know it when you see it.

the fandom

The SAS Rogue Heroes fandom is small but it is mighty and it genuinely is very friendly. There is a Discord if you like, but you don't have to do it if Discord is not your thing.

While the overriding popular ship is Paddy/Eoin, Paddy/Augustin and Reg/Johnny are also wildly popular. That said, we are fond of a rarepair in this fandom, and I personally have embarked on a mission of shipping Mike Sadler with every other character. Everyone's very encouraging of wild ideas and aus, anything's welcome.

A few people are writing OCs, and that too is great. I encourage more of that! I don't think I've seen any x Reader yet, but never say never.

Come join us!

a brief suggested further reading

you really don't have to do any of this, but like, some of you are nerds, i get it. i also got a lot of other recs, but these are some good starters. you can hit me up for more, it's all good.

SAS: Rogue Heroes by Ben Macintyre

SAS Brothers in Arms: Churchill's Desperadoes - Damien Lewis

SAS: An Illustrated History of the SAS - Joshua Levine

Speed, Aggression, Surprise: The Untold Secret Origins of the SAS - Tom Petch

One of the Originals: Story of a Founder Member of the S.A.S. - Anthony Kemp & Johnny Cooper (Johnny Cooper's memoir and imo, if you read nothing else, read this)

The Phantom Major: The Story of David Stirling & the SAS Regiment - Virginia Cowles (this was written in 1958. There is a "rebuttal" biog, The Phoney Major by Gavin Mortimer, which also contains a lot of info, but I find Mortimer's bias against Stirling incredibly difficult to stomach. Difficult.)

Paddy Mayne - Hamish Ross (honestly, I'd not bother with other biogs of Blair Mayne unless you want to do a lot of reading around and getting cross)

Special Forces Brothers in Arms: Eoin & Ambrose McGonigal - Patric McGonigal (this is so personal and so beautiful, I cried several times reading it. written by Eoin's great-nephew. Ambrose, Eoin's older brother was part of the SBS, Special Boat Service, who are ALSO very interesting)

Gentleman Jim: The Wartime Story of a Founder of the SAS and Special Forces - Lorna Almonds-Windmill (another biog by a family member, this one is gentle and told with love)

Joy Street: A Wartime Romance in Letters - the published correspondence between Jock Lewes and Mirren Barford. A slightly different kind of book, but gosh. It really hits.

...and that's all I got for you right now. I could talk about this show for days though.

(forgot to add: my SAS RH blog is @regseekings, I posted this on here for the HBO war fandom)

youtube

#sas rogue heroes #i'm very tired now #i'm gonna go get a sandwich #sasrh reading list #sas: rogue heroes #Youtube

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faramirsonofgondor · 20 days

Text

Songs That Remind Me of Eddie

(I tried to align this with the one I made for Buck)

Cellophane by FKA Twigs

Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

Strange by Celeste

Baby Ain’t Made of China by Wolf Alice

Silk by Wolf Alice

Race by Alex G

Real Men by Mitski

I Want You by Mitski

Cop Car by Mitski

A Pearl by Mitski

Harness Your Hopes (B-Side) by Pavement

Just A Girl (Florence + The Machine cover)

Not A Lot, Just Forever by Adrianne Lenker

Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

Yesterday by The Beatles

And I Love Her by The Beatles

Heart of Glass (Miley Cyrus cover)

Casual by Chappell Roan

Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan

Me & Magdalena by The Monkees

Thérèse by Maya Hawke

Alien Blues by Vundabar

Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms

Losing My Religion by R.E.M.

Crucified by Army of Lovers

Tonight, Tonight by The Smashing Pumpkins

Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo

Just by Radiohead

Spectre by Radiohead

Army Dreamers by Kate Bush

Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA

Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani

Take Me To Church by Hozier

The Funeral by Band of Horses

I Go To The Barn Because I Like The by Band of Horses

Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers

Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac

Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac

God Must Hate Me by Catie Turner

Not Strong Enough by Boygenius

#eddie diaz #character playlist #songs #playlist #911 fandom #911 show #911 #911 abc #edmundo eddie diaz #edmundo diaz #buddie #911 season 7 #911 fox #911 speculation #911 s7

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yourtouchismidas · 7 months

Note

How is Taylor with the other girls (Shay valentine and the twins)

so gigi and taylor are already friends, as gigi likes to think. obviously they dont see each other often as taylor is a busy woman, and so is your family, but gigi likes to watch her music videos and award shows and then matty will text taylor telling her gigi loved the new video, or saying congratulations, and taylor will reply. aw thank you sweet girl or ugh what an angel. but it is a while before taylor and gigi meet again, properly, when all the girls are born and old enough to come along to things. the band are nominated for a brit and taylor is performing, and for the first time, all five healy girls will be in the audience.

it might be a stupid fucking idea. the twins are three years old, which is younger than when gigi first attended awards, and there is two of them, but the whole band are there, and their partners, and when matty first floated the idea of bringing all the girls, and you scoffed in his face, the boys convinced you that they would be there to help, that they wouldnt drink until the girls were tucked up in bed, that they could play man to man with the twins, who were always better behaved for george, ross and adam than they were for their own parents. so you all end up round a few tables, each girl with glitter in their hair, nails painted, sparkling dresses. gigi wears dark purple, almost black, shay is in yellow with her hair in an updo curling around her face, valley wears dusty pink, silk, and the twins are dressed in the cutest pale blue dresses covered in daisies. you haul them all down the red carpet, hands holding hands holding hands, matty being stopped by interviewers who coo at whatever twin he is holding (you don't know, you just know they are both still with one of you) and you glance back and around at your girls and the crowds thinking how the hell is this my life.

the girls are spectacularly well behaved. the older three entranced by the stage and the outfits and the music, each with headphones that match their dresses. lexie plays quietly on george's lap, him wiggling her arms to dance to the songs. stevie, who were most worried about, is passed out on matty's shoulder almost the whole time.

when taylor comes out to perform, the older girls scream. taylor catches sight of gigi and waves to her, and then her eyes dance through all the girls who she has only seen on instagram before, singing the lyrics as if just to them. so cute she mouthes at you and matty before jumping right back into the next verse.

the band don't win, which you're secretly thankful for, because you dont know what you'd have done with all the girls had the boys had to go up on stage. matty has won many awards and you know he doesn't mind, especially because the winner is a newcomer who he's helped mentor.

after the awards have finished, taylor comes out into the audience, in something less swishy and dramatic than what she was wearing for her performance. she comes over to the band's table, scanning the girls again and grinning, before pulling matty into a hug.

"you've got a little army of them. i love it. i love it!" she says, as gigi sidles up to her, still shy of "princess taylor", even though in the comfort of her own house she calls her "my best friend."

"hello gorgeous girl," taylor says, and scoops gigi into her arms where she wraps her legs around her waist and rests her head on her shoulder. matty strokes gigi's curls from behind.

"why you acting shy, gi?" he says to her and she mumbles, "stop it matty," into taylor's shoulder.

shay barrels into taylor's legs as soon as she puts gigi down and squeezes her, making taylor laugh.

"oh why are you so precious, come here, let me look at you," she says, and scoops shay up too.

"this is my dreamer," matty says, "and this is my genius," he says, pulling valley out of the crowd and setting her in front of taylor. valley waves to her casually, unaffected by celebrity.

"this is valentine, right?" taylor asks. matty nods. "that's a beautiful name," she says to the girl. "maybe i should write a song about you?"

"no me! me!" shay says.

"about both of you. all of you!"

"how do you do that thing where you disappear in the smoke?" valley asks.

"magic!" shay says, looking to taylor expectantly to confirm her theory.

"obviously magic," taylor says, laughing, and then winking at valley. later, when no one else can hear them, she explains to valley the mechanics of it, but before that, she twirls shay round a few times, dancing with her, and then with all three of the big girls. when she talks to the other boys, stevie, awake now, reaches out her arms to her to be held, and then so does lexie, so she ends up with both in her arms, twirling their fingers around in her hair.

a few days later, the doorbell rings. it's a delivery. five packages. five princess dresses. all different. all specially chosen. shay's has fairy wings. valley's has green vines creeping up the sleeves. gigi's has stars and moons in sparkles. the twins have poufy lace skirts. she has signed them all. love aunty taylor x

#ruins #ruins behind the scenes #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fanfiction #dad!matty #ruins au ???

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3rdeyeblaque · 1 year

Text

Today we venerate Hoodoo Saint Harriet Ross Tubman aka Black Moses on the 110th anniversary of her passing🕊

Whew! A legendary Freedom Fighter, Mama Moses wore many decorated crowns as a mammoth Abolitionist, chief Conductor on the Underground Railroad, an expert Hunte and Lumberjack, a Nurse, an armed scout & spy for the Union Army during the Civil War - becoming the 1st Woman to ever spearhead an armed military assault. Later, she opened her door to the elderly, sick, & disabled, and advocated for them until her death.

Born Araminta "Minty" Ross as the middle child of 9 siblings to enslaved parents on a plantation in Dorchester County, MD, she suffered a massive blow to the head that would spur a lifetime of seizures, headaches, deep slumbers, & visions. She went on to marry a "Free" man by the surname of Tubman & took on her mother's first given name, "Harriet". In 1849, her husband, parents, & siblings were set to be split up & sold off. Under the cover of darkness, she fled the plantation solo on foot and followed the North Star to escape the jaws of slavery by way of Philadelphia, PA. She'd survive13-19 rescue missions back into the Antebellum South, liberating over 300 souls, as the most infamous Conductor on the Underground Railroad who, over the span of a decade, had "never lost a single passenger", which dubbed her the nickname, "Moses". The bounty for her life maxed out at $40K. Freedom wasn't free & Mama Moses never hesitated to remind her passengers of that. She carried herbs to silence a crying baby and pulled a gun on any cowardly man who might give away their position.

"You'll be Free or Die. " - Mama Moses to her passengers on the Underground Railroad.

Venerated as a Hoodoo Saint to many, Mama Moses was a Seer, a Clairvoyant Dreamer, Dream Interpreter, a Revolutionary Conjurer Woman & Rootworker - born to parents of the same cloth. She received Divine messages & Ancestral knowledge/wisedom through prophetic visions & dreams. Mama Moses proudly attributed her unparalleled death defying success to her Divine guidance, Conjure, Rootwork, intuitive gifts & her faithful willingness to trust/follow them.

Folks have a tendency to grossly undermine, if not outright ignore, the significant pillars that Hoodoo Cosmology, Religion, & Tradition played in her life and in her fight for freedom. Recently, archeologists uncovered her "spirit cache" at her family's home in Maryland; these were some of the Blackbelt Hoodoo staples of her time including: glass bottles - for protection against evil spirits, a figurine made it iron nails - possibly a something akin to an Nkisi, a copper button, perfume bottle topper, and other red & blue items.

Mama Moses transitioned peaceful & free at her home/on her land in Auburn, NY where she is rests at the cemetery in Auburn, NY. She is still expected to be immortalized on the $20 bill USD, however that promise has yet to be met.

We pour libations & give Mama Moses her 💐 for her bravery & selfless service. May she bless the elderly, disabled, young, women, & Workers who seek/fight for freedom.

Offering suggestions: Milk, Apples, & Orange flowers

🌟 FINAL copies of The2023 Hoodoo's Calendar are available for purchase (once sold out, that's it)! Subscribe to the official e-newsletter for the latest updates & exclusive content access. https://thehoodoocalendar.square.site 🌟

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atrs #atr #the hoodoo calendar #rootwork #conjure #black Moses #harriet tubman #Hoodoo History #Hoodoo Saints

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acourtofthought · 9 months

Text

Regarding Elain

"The quiet dreamer and she's got a different sort of strength than Nesta and Feyre"

D-I-F-F-E-R-E-N-T

Not only does the author address it in a interview but since book 1, SJM has made it extremely obvious that Elain is not like Feyre and Nesta.

She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger. (and we know the way Nesta viewed the cabin was much more in line with the way Feyre viewed it)

Two in the morning, and yet the party was showing no signs of slowing. My father held court with several other merchants and aristo men to whom I had been introduced but whose names I’d instantly forgotten. Elain was laughing among a circle of beautiful friends, flushed and brilliant. Nesta had silently left at midnight, and I didn’t bother to say good-bye as I finally slipped upstairs (Elain is living her best life while both Feyre and Nesta were over the ball, they barely tolerated it from the start).

She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses. “Don’t be afraid of them,” Nesta said beneath lowered brows. If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta … she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (Feyre belongs in the NC among the warriors. Of the remaining sisters, who also is foreshadowed to fit in?)

Nesta and I climbed inside one of the supply caravan’s covered wagons to change into Illyrian fighting leathers. When we emerged, Nesta even buckled a knife at her side. / Elain … She’d taken one look at us in the swaying grasses outside that wagon, the legs and assets on display, and turned crimson. / She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. Went white as death at the sight of it. / “I—I don’t know how to use it—” “I’ll make sure you don’t have to,” I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words … and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. / But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back. (SJM could not be any more direct with how different Elain approached the war compared to her sisters especially when you add in how Elain stabbed the King then backed away while Nesta marched on over and cut his head off, how Nesta takes credit for killing the King and Elain downplays her part).

Nesta had only stared at me in that unblinking, cold way. Elain had blushed, muttering about the impropriety of such things.

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.” / “Fucking strangers?” Elain flinched again, her face coloring. Nesta snorted. “You’re living amongst beings who have none of our human primness, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Elain is Elain,” he repeated. “Nesta is … she’s Illyrian. I mean that as a compliment, but she’s an Illyrian at heart. (NESTA IS ILLYRIAN AT HEART AND ELAIN IS NOT, I mean seriously, that tells us all we need to know. End of story, Nesta belongs in the NC and Elain does not).

Where the hell was Elain?

Elain in black was ridiculous.

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her. Nesta in Night Court black threatened to bring him to his knees.

Elain wasn't part of IC business in ACOWAR or Silver Flames yet Nesta and Feyre were. Feyre and Nesta were present for meeting Bryce and Elain was not. Nesta embraced the Illyrian leathers and a weapon in ACOWAR even though in ACOWAR she claimed to have no interest in being a warrior. That last one was 100% foreshadowing people!

SJM is not laying these clues to make Elain the sole peacemaker and gentle nurturer of the IC. She's laying these clues to show us that Elain is different than her sisters and belongs with people who are more like-minded. How sad would it be for Elain to remain in the IC, always the odd man out? The different one?

It is absurd for someone who claims to like Elain to look back over the series and think she's valued in the NC as anything more than a cook and gardener. Those hobbies are all well and good but not FMC energy and not anything the members of the IC really care much about aside from a pat on Elain's head for the things that keep her busy. That fact that she doesn't belong is so clear, it's glass and SF was Feyre trying to bridge the gap with the sister who pushes her away while coming right out and admitting the sister who is willing to have a relationship with her is someone she only considers a pleasant companion.

It's fine that Feyre and Nesta don't connect on a certain level with Elain or view her differently than they view one another, relationships shouldn't be forced and not all siblings are going to be extremely close (though they can still get along). With that said, Elain deserves to find a group of people who see her as a valuable, contributing member. Who don't see her as a last resort and who regularly include her in important Court business. People claim Elain was pushed to the side for Nesta and that's why she was absent in SF but Az got to do important things in SF as a side character. SJM always leaves room for side characters to play an important role in things even if it's not time for their own book.

Elain also deserves to find people who don't choose violence as a means to an end (no shade on the IC for their methods but that's not who Elain is).

Quiet dreamers don't wear daggers that they returned "and didn't look back" strapped to their legs. Quiet dreamers don't wear black when it sucks the life from them. Quiet dreamers don't sneak around in the shadows when they prefer the light.

There's already two sisters and Valkyrie who live that kind of life in this series and when the author tells us Elain is DIFFERENT, I'm not sure why people try to copy and paste Feyre / Nesta / Gwyn / Emerie over her personality.

#elucien #pro elucien #pro elain archeron #anti e/riel

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honkifyourelonely · 3 months

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#original #music #the last dinner party

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aleksanderscult · 5 months

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What do you think he thinks of Elizaveta? I mean extra apart from canon

Well, he expressed his thoughts about her in "Rule of Wolves" so I don't know if there is anything else left to be covered by me.

I've also talked about how he feels about her here.

In a few words, he thinks she is naive, foolish, annoying and powerful. But, according to the Darkling's views, what good is power if you have no brains? And that's what he considers her. Powerful, yes. But stupid. Elizaveta mentioned that she met him many times throughout the centuries but she never said that she stayed with him. Or that he was her teacher or mentor. Which means that he was too busy with his duties as the leader of the Second Army and his plans for Ravka to give her attention.

He knew that she was interested in him romantically but he apparently didn't care. Since he expressed indifference towards her feelings when he was repeatedly asking her where Alina was. That must have angered and hurt Elizaveta and she expressed contempt towards the Sun Saint in "King of Scars".

He also thought of her an idealist (in the negative sense) and dreamer. She thought of life as flowers, good wine and happiness while Aleksander knew that life was war, hunger and desperation. Hence, her views had no sense or purpose. And the fact that she wanted to see him as King of Ravka did nothing for him to see her in a different light. Since she wanted to do this out of her own selfish desires, not out of true concern for the country and the Grisha (which Aleksander was fighting for). Apart from all of these, I don't believe he gave her much thought. Aleksander rarely does for the people that don't interest him.

Generally, I find their relationship interesting and amusing. Since it's like Darklina but reversed and seeing the Darkling getting chased by a woman is hilarious to me.

#he ALWAYS ends up in the most funny situations 😭#poor thing #those good looks attract women like magnet and Aleks is not happy about it #anon asks #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai duology #king of scars #rule of wolves #sankta elizaveta #alina starkov #darklina

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kakumeikalaila · 1 year

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So……

Finally we are actually getting some info and not skipping to someone else!

I gotta say… I did not see that coming but I’m loving it!!! Some good old war tactics and not just charging in head first (coughLuffycough). Love it. It shows exactly how long this has been building up for! So far we have only speculated how good of a strategist Dragon was based on few little cues but to actually see the extent… I’m glad I was right! No offense to Luffy: it’s fun to see him punch people, but this is more my piece of cake. Also… KARMA IS COMING BACK BITCHES!!!

Anything that can make Dragon make that face is a big no-no in my books… This is going to be fun: I can’t wait to see them all fight seriously!!! Also… is that Shanks? Or his evil twin maybe?

LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT!!!! Finally! Someone said it! People really need to take Dragon’s words here and tattoo them on their foreheads. We need more of him in the real world… I’m real glad we are getting some answers to the key questions we (o at least I) had on the revolution. Again, we always speculated and there were debates around but to have it put black on white is great!

This opens a whole fucking gate on how different the revolution is from what Luffy is doing, for example. They are an army: they fight a war that is bigger than all of them and it needs sacrifices, it’s not all happy-go-lucky. Yes, they know there are bad and good kings. Yes, they are saddened if something happens to the good ones. BUT! They know the general public doesn’t and won’t understand that. They know that things are too complicated to be just black and white but that sometimes that’s all people can see. And they are not above getting their hands dirty if it’s what is needed. They all have a heavy weight on their consciences but they will gladly carry it if it means that the generations after them won’t have to. Sabo’s cold statement here and Dragon’s sarcastic comment just a second later make that very clear. Their hands are covered in blood already. And I adore that Oda is going with this more realistic version of a war and has not just decided to put together a bunch of idealists that are destined to fail. I love how it all works as a sort of balance to Luffy and the Strawhats. The revolutionaries are older, more seasoned realists and the Strawhats, while not exactly idealists either, are more dreamers and optimists. I know I’m generalizing but I think it gets the point across well enough. And I’m in love with all of this. Good job Oda!

Yeah, I can see why that might look quite incriminating… I wasn’t so happy about the revolutionaries all just believing Sabo did it so easily if it was just a headline but I understand now that we know there was an actual picture. Like: boy, I raised you since you were a child, you are my most trusted and my second in command but wtf are you doing with a dead body in your living room?!?!?

Happy to see them holding their grounds on a one on one. Sure, there were handicaps and all but still! That’s no small feat! It took like a fuckton of samurais plus a dragon to do that before and Morley is just here swinging that trident around!

This is gonna be bad. This is going to be very, very bad. God, I hope we are sticking to this storyline and not cutting to someone else. I NEED ANSWERS ODA! NOW!

And now that I said it, next week we are going to see fucking everyone but this. You’re all welcome.

Love the Strawhats to pieces but I am realky enjoying these last chapters without them. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

#one piece 1083 #one piece spoilers #flame emperor sabo #sabo #monkey d. dragon #dragon the revolutionary #emporio ivankov #kamabakka queendom #revolutionary army #reverie #god’s knights #eichiro oda

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hongssami · 10 months

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Intro: Long Journey (From Mist to Wave) [TEASER] - Seonghwa

Pairing: Dragon Shapeshifter! Seonghwa / witch apprentice! Reader Genre: Fantasy, Dragon Shapeshifter AU, Adventure, kind of Comedy Fluff and a bit of Angst i guess Synopsis: After the ambush led by the notorious dragon tamer group, Dreamers, brothers Seonghwa and Yeosang get separated from the silver dragon clan’s lair, Mist. In his attempt to regroup with his dragon clan, Seonghwa stumbles upon you, the Witch of the Woods’s curious yet clumsy apprentice. He finds himself falling behind schedule with a sprained foot and a broken wing; and with a suspected rising threat, he figures he should remain in his human form in the meantime, so no flying. Would he be able to heal his broken wing and warn the other horned clans for the rising threat in time? Warnings: So Much Worldbuilding, white haired hwa, hwa's clan being attacked (not in detail), probably not-so-good pacing Teaser Word Count: 999 Projected Word Count: ~10-12k Release Date: tba 🧍‍♂️

A/N: ahahah hi here she is ! Part 1 of an untitled series (help me come up with a title for this AU!), naturally the next part will be Yeosang's. Please note that contents of this teaser may be subject to change in the final fic as I am still writing it (unfortunately) 🧍‍♂️ Hope this gets you excited for this universe !!

Taglist is open! Send an ask to be added :^D !

“FLY EASTWARDS AND DO NOT TURN BACK UNDER ANY CONDITIONS. I WILL FIND YOU ONCE IT’S SAFE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YEOSANG?”

The chaos and shouting spreading amongst their clan does not waver Seonghwa’s stern voice as he addresses his brother. Yeosang has only ever seen him this serious after a disruptive stray drake had wandered up their mountain.

“Take care.” Yeosang nods, silently leaning his forehead on Seonghwa’s before he hesitantly takes off. They will reunite again soon, he’s sure of it. A flock of younglings follow him, their mothers undoubtedly telling them to leave for their safety as well.

On the ground, Seonghwa smells the human enchantments on flaming boulders before he even sees them. This was clearly foul play, and very unlike their neighboring human settlement. No man in his right mind would dare to face a whole clan of horned dragons, even if he had a whole army with him.

Unless they had found a weakness.

Another whiff of the air confirmed their enemy was not in fact their neighbors. Nobody would dare carry gunpowder on them around dragons unless they wished to coerce them to submission.

Of course, these were the so-called “Dreamers”. Dragon tamers.

The elders were right to be wary for today.

The lindworms of his land, always at the forefront of their battles, fought tooth and claw to ward away as many intruders as they could. A troublesome task since the tamers had put forth their cavalry first.

What they had not yet figured out was that the greedy humans did not mean to conquer, only hunt their horns for sport, as if to mock them. So, as the lindworms and wyrms and other flightless kin flung themselves bravely as the brunt of defenses for the lands of Mist, the winged all gathered to exhale a paralyzing gas designed to stun.

A cold silence was cast over the foot of the mountains. The cavalry had frozen. The warriors at the forefront slowly make their way back up the mountains to counsel with the others, albeit still cautious, they turn their back from the chaos.

That is when the silver-horns start to collapse. For when the final wyrm had cast her eyes away from the battlefield, another wave began with their long-range attacks. Archers, and trebuchet projectiles, and enchanted flaming boulders fell upon the mountains of Mist.

Their flightless had already taken cover after the first wave of intruders. They shook the ground enough for trenches to form at the foot of Mist, keeping out as many intruders as they physically could. The winged had taken their spot as defenders while the rest of the children and elderly had no choice but to flee before the rain of arrows and boulders caught up to them.

Those few who lurked in the waters were not as fortunate - the sole lake in Mist was inhabited by the ancient and well-respected water snake, but he was not too kind on visitors.

The once united community of dragonkin on Mist had shattered almost instantly.

Seonghwa was lucky he even made it out with only a broken wing to remember the day of his clan's fall.

... ..

THE FIRST THING SEONGHWA REMEMBERS WHEN HE COMES TO IS YEOSANG’S VOICE TELLING HIM HE’S SAFE. SEONGHWA HEAVES A SIGH OF RELIEF BEFORE HE DISCOVERS HIS UNINTENTIONAL SOLITUDE.

It’s close to nightfall. He knocked down a few trees when he crashed, heavens knew how long ago that happened. It seemed like the crash had done more harm to his already broken right wing too — the cartilage between his appendages ripped and the lower portions burnt and bruised.

The pelting rain against his scales serves him nothing but a calm distraction from the aching in the appendages of his right wing. He does not have any idea where the winds have taken him, only that he is under a dense overgrowth.

He blinks slowly, the rain winds threatening to shake him to his core if he did not seek shelter any time soon. Upon closer inspection of the plants and trees around him, and a quick glance at the setting sun, Seonghwa deduces he’s landed himself somewhere in the East.

Hopefully not too far from the bronze-horns. The faster they’re warned of the threat the better.

A glance above the treetops grants a peak of a small human town, their streetlights shine like little fireflies against the darkening horizon. He spots people donning raincoats and carrying umbrellas as they go about their last minute errands of the day. And if he leaned a little closer, he would hear the overlapping conversations from where he had rested his head on the crown of a particularly tall tree, but he chooses not to.

It was far too risky to parade as a dragon after that raid.

So he sinks into himself, willing himself to at least take a few steps toward the nearest tree so he could lean on it. Polymorphing into his human form hurts more now that he’s essentially injured his entire arm, but he endures it with a few hisses and groans escaping his chapped lips. It has been quite a while since he’s done this.

He didn’t really have the need to be in his human form back in Mist. Everyone had always been more comfortable living in the hides and scales they were born with, although the children would have a period of their lives where they just loved shifting from dragon to human. He supposes it’s for the best that he had not shown himself as human publicly after his turning of age now that a danger was looming over the heads of the horned dragons.

He’s exhausted. He does not have the faintest idea where he is or how he’s going to find Yeosang. His arm hurts like hell and he makes his way toward the human village cradling it close.

At least this way he won’t fall over trying to balance himself with a broken wing.

(note: next update for this fic will be character sheets and a map :O, the same map in the header!)

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #park seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #park seonghwa imagines #seonghwa imagines #atz scenarios #atz imagines #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fantasy au #hwa long journey #hello again i am writing for ateez now ?!??!???!?#anw if this interests you just WAIT for the character sheets/lore drop 🤩🤩🤩#watch as i give up on writing this in paragraph form and switch to bulletpoint gdsgdfg #chips and chunks

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