#fate and choice

[wingedblooms]

Blooming with life

@offtorivendell and I were chatting about the cover for the next book and while there are several options for what might be depicted on the cover, the one that makes the most sense to me (and makes us scream) is the Cauldron (blooming with life, vines and flowers and creatures spilling from its iron lip). It hasn’t been used on a cover yet, and assuming Sarah will continue with one romantic pairing per book, it would align perfectly with what Elain and Azriel’s story would contribute to the overarching plot.

Let me preface this by saying that I do think the three Archeron sisters embody (or are vessels) for the three faces of the Mother, and they will likely need to come together at some point in this storyline (the dream). But if anyone’s story is connected to a force that once bloomed with life, and is tasked with uncovering its secrets to help it and the land bloom again, it’s Elain. The quiet, gentle gardener who glows like the dawn and smells like a promise of spring. She might even be able to use the language of creation to (re)write her own fate. It doesn’t seem coincidental that Azriel has been present or connected to Elain’s major moments involving the Cauldron (her forced rebirth, naming her powers, questioning the mating bond, using TT to rescue her family, being forbidden from going near the Cauldron, etc.). Their story is tied to the Cauldron and what we’ve learned about it (from the original trilogy to the spin-off books to the crossover). Sarah has left hints that it is still important, in general, and specifically in Elain’s journey with Azriel:

acotar

Feyre gives us our first glimpse of the Cauldron from the living (Spring Court):

I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow.

I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colors, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the windows.

[…]

At first I could do nothing but stare at its size, the ambition of it, at the fact that this masterpiece was tucked back here for no one to ever see, as if it was nothing—absolutely nothing—to create something like this.

It told a story with the way colors and shapes and light flowed, the way the tone shifted across the mural. The story of…of Prythian.

It began with a cauldron.

A mighty black cauldron held by glowing, slender female hands in a starry, endless night. Those hands tipped it over, golden sparkling liquid pouring out over the lip. No—not sparkling, but…effervescent with small symbols, perhaps of some ancient faerie language. Whatever was written there, whatever it was, the contents of the cauldron were dumped into the void below, pooling on the earth to form our world…(acotar)

acomaf

Elain emerges from the Cauldron. It tips onto its side by itself, as if influenced by an unseen force. Elain rises from the floor, like the earth in the mural, glowing with immortal light and beauty.

And as if it had been tipped by invisible hands, the Cauldron turned on its side. More water than seemed possible dumped out in a cascade. Black, smoke-coated water.

And Elain, as if she’d been thrown by a wave, washed onto the stones facedown.

Her legs were so pale—so delicate. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them bare. The queens pushed forward. Alive, she had to be alive, had to have wanted to live—

Elain sucked in a breath, her fine-boned back rising, her wet nightgown nearly sheer.

And as she rose from the ground onto her elbows, the gag in place, as she twisted to look at me—

Nesta began roaring again.

Pale skin started to glow. Her face had somehow become more beautiful—infinitely beautiful, and her ears … Elain’s ears were now pointed beneath her sodden hair. (acomaf)

acowar

After Elain was Made in the Cauldron, Azriel is the one to name her power, freeing her from a murky realm where dream and reality entwine:

“A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” (acowar)

Feyre wonders about Elain’s new, inner sight and how it might be connected to the Cauldron.

Elain had been told—by Amren. She now sat at the table, more straight-backed and clear-eyed than I’d seen her. Had she beheld this, in whatever wanderings that new, inner sight granted her? Had the Cauldron whispered of it while we’d been away? I hadn’t the heart to ask her. (acowar)

Feyre questions the mating bond system, wondering why Azriel and Elain aren’t mates and who determines 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…”

Azriel is the first to notice Elain’s absence and risks his life to get her back, inspiring Feyre to join him.

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

With the shadows, he might stand a chance of slipping in. But there were wards to consider, and ancient magic, and the king with those spells and the Cauldron…(acowar)

Armed with Truth-Teller, the blade Azriel gifted to her for the battle, Elain—rather than the Cauldron—answered Feyre’s pleas, somehow appearing just in time to deal Hybern a killing blow.

For a moment, I thought the Cauldron had answered my pleas.

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had.

Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.” (acowar)

While connected to it through a living link, Feyre learns that the Cauldron adores Elain, gave her such powers (plural, baby), and would not harm her.

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)

Both Elain and the Cauldron are described as blooms in bleak and barren settings, which seems to be a hint of their intertwined role/power that is reinforced in the spin-offs and crossover.

She was a rose bloom in a mud field…[…] If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta, she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood. (acowar)

-

The Cauldron shattered into three pieces, peeling apart like a blossoming flower (acowar)

acosf

Cassian reminds us that the Cauldron is hidden (and supposedly asleep) in Cretea, worrying that no one could control it if it awoke.

A chill skittered down Cassian’s spine. He trusted the Seraphim Prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken. (acosf)

Nesta reminds us of the time the Cauldron stole Elain and its song called only to her:

Elain had been stolen by the Cauldron and saved by Azriel and Feyre. Yet the two terror still gripped Nesta, waking and asleep: the memory of how it had felt in those moments after hearing the Cauldron’s seductive call and realizing it had been for Elain, not for her or Feyre. How it had felt to find Elain’s tent empty, to see that blue cloak discarded. (acosf)

The Inner Circle discusses the Cauldron-Made Trove, and Feyre and Amren remind us that like calls to like, which is why the sisters can help find them.

“What does it have to do with the Cauldron?” Nesta pushed.

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured, looking to Amren, who nodded. “Because the Trove was Made by the Cauldron, so might the Trove find its Maker.” (acosf)

Elain offers to find the Trove when Nesta admits to her fears, and Nesta forbids her from going anywhere near the Cauldron.

Amren said, “You tracked the Cauldron—”

“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.”

Elain said, “Then I will find it. I might require some time to…reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” Elain demanded. “Shall I tend to my little garden forever?” When Nesta flinched, Elain said, “You can’t have it both ways.o You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.”

“Then go off on adventures,” Nesta said. “Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

Feyre said, “It’s Elain’s choice, Nesta.” (acosf)

Nesta gives us a glimpse of the dusk service where priestesses worship the Mother and the Cauldron and the Forces That Be (Fate). A sacred, possibly interchangeable trio, which is deeply connected to creation and the earth:

The music was pure, ancient, by turns whispering and bold, one moment like a tendril of mist, the next like a gilded ray of light. It finished, and Merrill spoke about the Mother and the Cauldron and the land and sun and water. She spoke of blessings and dreams and hope. Of mercy and love and growth. (acosf)

Nesta finds the carved rose Papa Archeron made for Elain and places it next to a figurine of a primordial goddess:

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.”

-

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)

Nesta makes a bargain with the Cauldron, so it is at least somewhat awake and seems to be influenced by, or working alongside, a luminescent hand (maybe a gentle gardener’s hand?) that intervenes on Nesta’s behalf.

And as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta’s back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore.

A bargain with the Cauldron itself.

Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. (acosf)

After their almost-kiss on solstice, Azriel dares to question the Cauldron, which he appears to revere.

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

Rhysand blinked. “What of Mor, Az?”

Azriel ignored the question. “The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it’s possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” He had never before dared speak the words aloud.

hofas

In the crossover, we learn more of the Cauldron’s history. Life once blossomed from it, but—as if echoing Azriel’s question to Rhys—it was warped by the Daglan (Asteri).

“The Cauldron,” Azriel amended. Bryce shook her head, not understanding. “You don’t have stories of it in your world? The Fae didn’t bring that tradition with them?”

Bryce surveyed the giant cauldron. “No. We have five gods, but no cauldron. What does it do?”

“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)

-

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. (hofas)

The Under-King leaves us with a look at the Cauldron from the dead. It was misconstrued as a goddess over time, explaining interconnected, if not interchangeable, terms (Mother, Cauldron, Fate/Forces That Be), but she is a force and her name is Wyrd.

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)

Tags: @elriel-month 💕

What do you think will be on the cover, friends? Do you agree it might be the Cauldron, or will it be something else, like the Harp or even…a Pegasus?! Ramiel?

[wickedzeevyln]

Life

The rules weren’t written, but everyone was playing. Osha’s breath hitched in her throat, and a stitch stabbed at her sides. The morning had already lost its calm as the sun pulsed between buildings. She was now acquainted with all the stores in the block. Of the many accessible places in the city, the shop is nestled on the third step between a clockmaker’s workshop—oddly, in an age where…

[itsmeimcathy]

faust (1858) by charles gounod | le fantôme de l'opèra (1910) by gaston leroux | wuthering heights (1939) by william wyler | la belle et la bête (1947) by jean cocteau | labyrinth (1986) by jim henson | van helsing (2004) by stephen sommers | the phantom of the opera (2004) by joel schumacher | crimson peak (2014) by guillermo del toro | consumed (2014) by david cronenberg | nosferatu (2024) by robert eggers

[zondearts]

doves x showtime

[sadclowncentral]

VIVE LE FUCKING FRANCE BABY!!!! 🇫🇷🇫🇷🇫🇷

[qualityrain]

why are they batshit insane

[margaretkart]

The greatest warriors, but at what cost?

Bonus Hector and his most important people because this family is everything to me😭

[karamatsulover69]

i think theres a beautiful thing in pre-tadpole durgetash where their alliance/relationship had always had the looming background knowledge of, "we are in it together for now, but when our goals dont align anymore, we will 100% have to kill each other." no matter how much they get along or love each other now, no matter how the current plot serves the both of them, in the end, their main goals are different, and they stand by them with their lives. they know one of them will have to die at the end by the others hand. but weirdly enough, i feel it almost brings them closer. they dont need to worry about any random betrayal or uncertainty in their partnership. they are both well aware of what the other wants and how this will end, so theres almost a sort of comfort that comes with it. they trust each other more than anyone else but also know the other could very well be their death

[flwrkid14]

That story about Tim being dukes big bro had me like 😭💝💝 do you think Damian eventually gets jealous? He sees Tim taking care of Duke, help the kid with his homework, maybe even make him his favorite food when Alfreds out on a vacation. He sees Tim (Drake), who's often blunt and sarcastic to Damian, look relaxed and happy with Duke. And Damian can't help but to feel sad and resentful. He's improved so much since he first came to Gotham. He wonders why Tim can't see that he has improved, like, "why is it never enough?" But alas, both him and Tim are bad at communicating this.

hi anon !! this idea got me right in the chest.. damian’s not looking for tim’s approval—he never was. but watching how easily tim fits around duke, how natural it is between them… it makes him wonder. maybe he wants something like that, too. i couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here’s what came out. hope you like it !!

Damian never wanted Tim’s approval. not really.

Tim was just there, from the beginning—irritating and smug and sharp-tongued in a way that grated against everything Damian was raised to be. he didn’t admire him. he didn’t want his praise. they were rivals, and maybe always would be.

and for a while, that was enough. it made sense.

but then Duke came.

and Damian isn’t jealous, not at first. he likes Duke. respects him. Duke is steady and bright and disarming in a way that makes people want to be around him. Damian understands why people gravitate toward him.

but then he starts noticing things. little moments, barely there. Tim waiting for Duke outside of patrol. Tim saving him a slice of Alfred’s pie. Tim helping him with his chemistry homework, even though he never offers to help Damian with his Latin translations.

and that’s fine. it’s all fine. it’s just that—

Tim is different with Duke.

softer. warmer. open in a way Damian’s never seen from him. he catches Tim laughing one night—really laughing—over some dumb inside joke Duke made. and something in Damian... stalls.

because he didn’t want Tim’s approval. never needed it. but seeing the way Duke and Tim are with each other—comfortable. close. easy—makes something twist inside him.

maybe it’s not approval he wants.

maybe it’s connection. belonging.

because Damian has grown. he’s changed. he’s worked so hard to be better, and he knows he’s not the same furious, isolated kid who came to Gotham all those years ago. but when he sees Tim lean in when Duke talks, when he sees the way Tim calls him “kid” with affection instead of exasperation—it makes him wonder:

why couldn’t we have had that?

why didn’t we?

and maybe he knows the answer. maybe they were both too guarded. too sharp. too stubborn to ever let the other in.

maybe they said too many things they didn’t mean (or maybe they meant every one, and that’s worse) and now neither of them knows how to take them back.

Damian doesn’t regret who he is. but sometimes, when the manor is quiet and the hallway lights are dim and he hears Duke and Tim talking in the kitchen like brothers, like friends, like something he never let himself want—

he wonders if it’s too late to want it now. because he thinks he does. or maybe he just wants the option to want it.

either way, he doesn’t know how to ask for it. and Tim doesn’t know how to give it. and the silence just keeps growing between them.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

spot of encouragement before finals

sunspot by @venomous-qwille!

(oh yea and here's some soliel)

[bvckbiter]

ok honestly speaking i think one of the biggest roots of luke’s tragedy is that he’s not extraordinary by himself. he failed his quest, he as a child of hermes doesnt have any powers of his own (until diary of luke castellan, which was written and published by rick post-tlo, and even then it’s just lock-picking), his most striking overt ability is that he’s a good swordsman. everything else, he has no recourse but to earn through charisma then alliance then subterfuge. compare that to percy who’s written to be a force of nature unto himself, who is an immediate natural at arms, who has in-text yet to discover a limit to his power save for what he can imagine, who more or less has his father’s support. i cant even say that luke was dead from the beginning because the curse that broke may goes back entire decades before he was even born; he was dead before he was even conceived. the prophecy that shaped him into a monster is also the prophecy that turned him into a sacrifice

[armenelols]

In deference to my recent bout of shitposting, have a daily reminder that Tolkien's half-elves have no happy ending and no matter what they choose, they'll still lose part of their family forever. They'll always be split between two people, neither fully one or the other, yet forced to pick one and lose the other

[praetoring]

king of swords – crown of fire & ring of rage

the larger (cropped) version of my art for Phantom's Fate & Fortune, the Danny Phantom tarot deck (@dptarotproject). this project has been an absolute joy to work on (but also like, hella stressful, but still hella fun) so I hope yall like the pdf book cause I'm really proud of it & can't wait for yall to see the physical guidebook!

[birdoncrowtree]

[philosophybits]

The relations between destiny and the human soul, the extent to which each soul creates its own destiny, the question of what elements in the soul are transformed by merciless necessity as it tailors the soul to fit the requirements of shifting fate, and of what elements can on the other hand be preserved, through the exercise of virtue and through grace — this whole question is fraught with temptations to falsehood, temptations that are positively enhanced by pride, by shame, by hatred, contempt, indifference, by the will to oblivion or to ignorance.

Simone Weil, "The Iliad or The Poem of Force"

[margaretkart]

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it."