#st helena and god's will

[seekingtheosis]

Reflections on the Feast of Exaltation of the Holy Cross - September 14

Delve into the profound significance of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross in Orthodox Christianity. Explore its historical context, theological implications, and relevance in modern times.

In the name of God the Father, Christ Jesus His Son and the Holy Spirit, One True God. Amen. But God forbid that I should glory, except in the cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified to me and I to the world. Galatians 6:14 Dear brothers and sisters in Christ On September 14 of every year, the Church as a whole celebrates the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.…

[capseycartwright]

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins)

Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.

Eddie couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he thought the words. If he couldn’t be a bit silly while having a sexuality crisis in a Catholic church – when could he? 

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight.

ao3 link

t’s been a long time since Eddie Diaz had set foot in a church – of his own accord, at least. He’d been to the christenings and communions and confirmations of all of his various nieces, nephews, and cousins, he’d sat stiff in the pew as he’d watched friends, and family get married, trying his best not to remember how own wedding day, the way Shannon’s hands had shaken in his grip as they promised to love each other until death do them part, both of them young, too young to understand the covenant they were signing up to. Eddie had been there, for all those occasions, but he hadn’t gone to mass, or even sat in a church, just because he wanted to in a very long time. 

He wasn’t even really sure if he wanted to be there today, but it was a Thursday, and Christopher was in Texas, and Eddie wasn’t working, and he’d been having an extended mental breakdown for the last few weeks, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the pew of St Brendan’s Catholic Church, listening to a softly spoken priest with an Irish lilt to his accent – faded, after years in America, Eddie presumed, but still there, noticeable in the inflection of certain words – recite the Our Father. 

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but it felt like every other church he’d been to in his life. They didn’t all look the same, necessarily, though they followed the same format, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews and an altar decorated in gold, as opulent as it was suffocating. Eddie had thought it beautiful, before, the way Catholic churches were decorated in gold and jewels, believing for so much of his life that the wealth honoured God – but living life had made him learn the grandeur and displays of wealth were nothing more than indicative of the wealth the Catholic church had hoarded while their devout followers starved, all in the name of faith and of God. True faith didn’t need to be gilded in gold to be sincere, he’d decided.

Eddie had never been to St Brendan’s before, but mass was the same. It didn’t change – though the wording of some of the prayers did. He’d sort of been checked out of being a regular churchgoer by time they had changed some of the prayers, only discovering the difference when he confidently started to recite it wrong at his youngest niece’s communion, his mother fixing him with a glare so icy hell might have frozen over under the power of Helena Diaz’s gaze alone. He’d never learned the new ones, not really, and so Eddie just recited the one’s he’d learned for his own confirmation, the words falling from his lips, muscle memory more than it was faith now. 

Our father, who art in heaven – hallowed be thy name . 

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh, a little, as he murmured the prayer. Hallowed be thy name. He knew the prayer talked about God, their holy father, but the prayer had always made him think of his own father, of the way Ramon Diaz was a hallowed man in his own right, how he parented with an iron fist and expected to be obeyed. 

Things were getting better now, with his dad. Maybe – maybe that was part of the fear. Eddie had always been afraid of letting people down, but more than anyone, he was afraid of letting his father down – of seeing that look of disappointment set into every crease of his father’s face, an expression he’d been on the receiving end of for more of his childhood than he’d like to admit. Eddie had tried so hard to make sure he was never on the receiving end of that look again, but nothing he had ever done was good enough – not marrying Shannon, not the way he had tried to take responsibility for his young family, not the army, not the man he had been when he’d come home from Afghanistan. 

Distance had lessened the number of disappointed looks, but Eddie knew that was because he was simply not seeing them anymore; he was sure his father sometimes frowned at the phone when they’d finally call, silted conversation about Christopher and life at the firehouse the best either of them could muster. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting better. 

At least it had been, until his parents had taken Christopher with them to Texas. It hadn’t helped their relationship – but it hadn’t hindered it as much as Eddie had expected either. He was never going to thank them, for the way they had swooped in, ready to take Christopher at a moment’s notice, but he could thank them for giving his son the space that he needed to process. Eddie couldn’t give him that space, right now, but he was grateful someone could. Still – he would be ready to drive to Texas at the drop of a hat when Christopher decided he was ready to come home.

Things were getting better, that was the thing. His dad called, every night, to update Eddie on Christopher’s day. Eddie could hear the familiar sounds of the Diaz backyard as his dad softly spoke, telling Eddie about how Christopher had been to the lake, with his cousins, and how he’d finished another book, and how he was helping Helena to make dinner, right then. It had filled the gap until Christopher had started to call Eddie himself, his voice tinny as he mumbled over the phone, things not quite back to normal, Christopher not willing to talk to him about anything except Marvel and Minecraft and how abuela’s tamales were better than Eddie’s, but better than they were, at least. 

Every time they were on the phone, Eddie reassured his parents that he was working on himself. He was back seeing Frank, every week, and at Frank’s encouragement, he’d joined a veteran’s support group. Eddie wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect military veteran he assumed he needed to be, to join a veteran support group, but the rag-tag group that met at his community hall every month weren’t exactly the flag-wearing, gun-toting veterans he’d expected them to be. James was a 63-year-old man from Massachusetts who ran the group – he had moved out to LA to live with his daughter after he retired and referred to himself delightedly as a stay-at-home grandfather. Luisa was a vet around Eddie’s own age, and she’d gone back to university after she got out of the army and got a fine arts degree. She liked to paint, and talked about her wife with a reverence and openness that Eddie could only admire. 

He hadn’t said a word the first time he went, and Buck had sat in the Jeep in the carpark, a ready-made escape plan for Eddie in case he decided it was all too much. Eddie had sat quietly as the group had chatted, drinking tea and coffee out of flimsy paper cups, and eating homemade biscuits – made by James, who, as it turned out, was quite the prolific baker – and he’d watched. He’d watched as the group had talked about their bad days, and their good days, and how they were coping with life after the military, and not a single glorious war-story was exchanged. 

That was when Eddie knew it was safe to keep going. He was never going to be a man who was proud of his service, and he didn’t want to have to attend a support group of people who’d talk about their time in the military like it was the good old days. He had spoken a little more, the second time he went – Buck doing his groceries, two streets away, rather than sitting in the carpark – and he’d introduced himself, his voice gruff as he tried to figure out what version of Eddie he wanted to present to the world. 

Eddie was still figuring that part out – the version of himself he wanted to be, that is. 

He was figuring himself out. That was the point. He was trying, he was really trying – and people could see that, Eddie was sure. His parents said they could, at least.

Which was why he was here – in a church not dissimilar to the one he’d attended every Sunday in El Paso growing up – on his knees, praying to a God he wasn’t sure he actually believed in for guidance. 

read the rest on ao3

[loveacrosstimes]

The Nurse and the Rancher

Summary: Claire, a 27-year-old nurse from NYC accidentally gets transported back to California in 1995. There she meets Jamie, a 25-year-old Scot who recently inherited his uncle's sprawling ranch in St. Helena.

Claire Randall had no cell phone, no wallet, not even a single ballpoint pen to accompany her on her trek through the dusty, humid hell that was small town, California.  

It had a name, sure, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

It wasn’t one of the handful of famous cities she’d learned about back home in New York  — Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco  — but that was the least of her worries.

In the span of eight or so hours, she’d settled into the terrifying reality that not only was she not in New York anymore, but she was somehow nearly 30 years in the past as well. 

June 8, 1995, to be exact.

The rolled-up newspaper under her arm confirmed as much, as did the genial convenience store cashier who’d given it to her for free. That small show of kindness had kept her from falling to her knees and asking God why the worst luck in the world seemed to attach itself to her. 

Traveling to the past on the day before her fifth wedding anniversary, when she and her husband, Frank, were already on icy terms. He thought she spent too much time clocking in at the neonatal unit in the hospital; she thought his nose was too far in his history books. 

Neither was wrong, and once they could see past their own deep-seeded stubbornness, they agreed to fix things. 

After spending weeks in couple’s therapy, this was supposed to be a make-or-break milestone for them. 

A new beginning. 

She’d bought a new dress and a little makeup — because it’d been ages since he’d seen her out of her scrubs — supplies to make his favorite maple cake, and the fixings for a steak dinner. 

And now, she'd vanished without a trace. 

She stopped in the middle of the barely-paved road, unfurling the paper. The number of times she’d glanced down at the date hoping that the numbers changed was mind-boggling — but it was unfailing.

June 8, 1995. 

Eight days into the sixth month of the nineteen hundred and ninety-fifth year. 

In Le Cressida , no less, according to the paper. Wherever that was. 

She pressed an anguished hand onto her forehead.

The California sun, which she’d only heard about in theory before today, beat down on her with no abandon, shellacking her curls to her forehead and plastering her scrubs to her thighs.

If she didn’t get something cold to drink soon, she was going to pass out from dehydration. 

Heeding the directions of the cashier, she turned right in front of the store, walking right down the long, uneven street, until she passed a car repair shop and a check cashing place. 

Sure enough, there was a diner across the way. 

HATTIE’S, spelled in all caps. It was supposed to serve the best chicken and waffles in town, according to the cashier. 

Not that she cared. She just needed sustenance.

And water, God, she needed water. 

Claire pushed open the old creaky doors to the diner, and was immediately enveloped with the cold, crispy breeze of air conditioning and the overwhelming smell of grease.

Perhaps her hunger was overtaking her, but it wasn’t a rancid, turn-her-stomach kind of smell.

It smelled like buttery, artery clogging goodness, swirling with the remnants of chicken and burgers and bacon, and whatever else was sizzling on the big splotchy grill back in the kitchen.

She never allowed herself to enjoy these foods, thanks to the number of patients she’d seen meet their demise from years of overindulging when she was doing her rounds in nursing school. 

But today was no ordinary day.

“Come on in, little lady, you’re letting out the AC,” said a gruff, burly man from behind the counter.   

Claire walked further into the establishment. The floors latched onto her shoes, its thin layer of grime sandwiching itself between the grooves on the bottom of her shoe. 

Inside, she grimaced, but she kept her face leveled to keep from offending the man who stood between her and a tall icy beverage. 

“Sorry about that." She pointed back towards the door. "I got distracted.”

He picked up his notepad and shrugged. “‘It’s alright. Now, what can I get for you?”

She sat her newspaper on the counter, then looked at the menu scrawled out in chalk on a board above. Endless pairings of salt, fat, and protein, slathered in more fat, but only one item made her stomach truly quake. 

“Can I get a double cheeseburger, please? Hold the pickles and extra tomatoes. And a cup of ice water. The biggest size you have.”

He wrote as she talked. “That's all?” 

Glancing back up, she considered adding a carb to the meal. Before the universe whisked her to Le Cressida, she’d been making her daily walk to Mount Sinai Hospital. She was halfway there before she realized she’d left her purse at home, but she didn’t think much of it. 

Obviously, she should’ve.

Now, she only had the $50 worth of emergency money she kept in her bra — something NYC pickpockets couldn’t swipe — to pay with. Through some measure of a miracle, it’d made it through this journey here with her. And since she didn’t know how long she’d have to stretch it, she couldn’t go overboard. 

“Yes, that’s all — thank you, uh, Danny,” she said, finally noticing his name tag. 

With a nod, he turned and headed towards the kitchen. 

As he fetched her food, Claire familiarized herself with the surroundings.

The diner walls were dyed with what looked like years of unfiltered oil and smoke residue. There was a large neon, Coca-Cola sign on the wall to the right of the large windows, across from the counter. The retro kind she’d seen in her mother’s old magazines she collected in her early 20s. On the other wall was a board full of polaroid photos she couldn’t make out from her seat. In the other corner was a jukebox that looked like it’d been plucked straight out of the ‘60s – probably why it wasn’t on.

Or maybe it was because the diner was nearly empty. Besides her, two other patrons were sitting in a booth that lined the windows — peculiar for 3:12 p.m, no matter what decade you were in. 

Then again, it wasn’t quite time for the dinner rush yet. 

Or maybe HATTIE'S just didn’t turn over much business. 

She didn’t intend to stay here long enough to figure it out. 

After she got a good meal in her belly, she was going to wander a couple of miles back to the edge of the forest where the universe had spit her out and see if she could get back home.

Glancing backward towards the door, she looked across the way. There was barely any foot traffic along the few businesses that lined the street. It made the expansive nothingness surrounding them in every direction seem more storied, more menacing. 

Just as Claire turned her attention back to the counter, Danny emerged with her order. “Here you go, little lady.” 

She whipped around with a gleam in her eyes. “Thanks, this looks amazing,” she said about the very generic-looking diner burger coated in a thin layer of grease and grill marks – even the bread. 

Yet, it wasn’t long before she was shoveling in her food with both hands, slowing only to gulp down streams of her water. The food wasn’t nearly as tasty as it smelled, and yet it was the most delicious meal she’d ever had in her life. Determined to savor every morsel, she didn’t notice Danny, propped up near the counter, watching her intently. 

“Slow down, ma’am, I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver,” he said with a guttural laugh. 

Face flaming from embarrassment, Claire slowly raised her head and reached for the napkin dispenser. “I’m sorry … I haven’t eaten in hours,” she said, wiping traces of grease from her mouth and hands. 

But he waved her away. “Oh, I’m just funnin' ya. It’s nice to see someone appreciate the cuisine.”

Claire picked up what was left of her burger. “Well, it’s amazing.” A lie and a truth. “I’ll, um, have to come this way more often.”

Though, if the universe cared about her even a little bit, this would be the last time they ever crossed paths, because she’d be able to figure out how to get out of Dodge, and back home. 

Or maybe she’d just wake up from this very bad dream or perhaps even a coma. She hadn’t completely ruled that this wasn’t an elaborate hallucination, after all.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind. It’s always nice to see a new face now and again – especially one so pretty.”

Ignoring Danny, she took another bite from her burger, not wanting to entertain even the mildest flirtation from this man. 

Even if she wasn’t married, he wasn’t her type. 

“Plus, we don’t get many medical folks in this part.”

“Oh?” She asked brow raised slightly. 

“No, the nearest hospital is about 10 miles out.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she said quickly – perhaps too quickly. “But I was doing a house call nearby...” she added, offering up that tidbit before he could find any gaps in her story. “For a homebound patient.”

The less the locals knew of her situation the better. She was already in a strange town in an unfamiliar time. The last thing she needed were people sniffing around her trying to figure out where she was from.

All she had to offer them was the truth, and in this case, it was certainly stranger than fiction. 

"Dedicated eh?” he said, the answer seeming to satisfy him.

She smiled again. “Yes. I love my work.” That part was true. “Anyway, how much was the meal?” She reached into her bra for all the money she had in the world. Her poor father, he’d roll in his grave if he knew.

“Let’s see, a burger, extra tomatoes, and ice water. $5.56.”

“Really?” She asked, unable to contain her surprise. That same meal would’ve been at least $12-15 in 2024 —  and that's without a tip.

“Yep. Surely that’s not too steep for a nurse – I hear y’all make good money.”

“No, it’s very affordable. I’m just … surprised.”

He shrugged again. “Shouldn’t be. Things are cheaper out here in the sticks.” 

“I'm learning.” 

He reached for her money and walked over to the register.

She turned her attention back to her water, downing the rest of it. Barely satiated, but feeling stronger to restart her journey. 

Behind her the door jingled, alerting her to another patron, but she was too transfixed with the temporary relief.

It wasn’t until he stood next to her at the counter that she noted his statuesque physique. A long, lean body, accented by bulging muscles,  topped with a mess of auburn curls. 

He was wearing loose-fitting jeans, gathered at the waist with a belt and a plaid button down with what looked to be cut-off sleeves.

He was a cowboy or a cosplayer. 

Was cosplaying even a thing in the 90s? Her knowledge of the decade mostly amounted to the 90s-era TV she’d grown up with and the stories from her mother’s days as a wild, uninhibited twenty-something she’d heard about from her aunt Tiffany. She couldn’t remember any mention of the costume-heavy conventions that had taken root during her lifetime.

Either way, he was undeniably handsome in a way it’d be improper to harp on as a married woman.

So she didn’t harp .

She took only a moment to familiarize herself with this deliriously handsome figure standing feet away.

He noticed her a beat later and tilted his cowboy hat towards her. 

She flashed him a meek smile, then forced her gaze forward. 

Danny returned to the counter with a conflicted look on his face. 

“I’ll be with you in just one second, Jamie,” he said to the man he was obviously familiar with. 

Jamie, as she now knew him, nodded, then took the fourth seat at the counter, leaving two empty seats between them. 

Turning back in front of her, Claire caught the man’s expression, turning her face downward into a frown. “Everything okay?” She asked, a prickly filling rooting itself in her stomach. 

And it wasn't because of the greaseball of a burger she'd scarfed down.

“It will be after you tell me where you got this money.” 

She blinked slowly, taken aback. “Umm, an ATM?

“Which one?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does when the money is counterfeit,” he said, holding the bill up into the air next to a second $50 bill he’d pulled from the register. 

Pressing her hands into the counter, Claire leaned forward.  “Are you seriously accusing me of giving you fake money?” 

“I am.”

“This is preposterous. I have a good job, and I am married to a man with a good job. I have no reason to hawk fake cash.”

“I don't need your life story, little lady. All I know is that Ulysses S. Grant’s head is the wrong size, misaligned, and the numbers are missing those little circles. Not to mention this bill says series 2024. 20, 25 – nearly 30 years into the future. So unless you rode up in town in a time machine, you’re dealing fake money, and you got it from someone who didn’t give a damn enough to make it look real.”

Eyes wide, Claire froze, the unsettling realization sinking into her bones. Of course, the money looked weird — it wasn’t yet in circulation. Thank God she hadn’t tried to pay with the new $100 bills; Danny would really crap his pants then. “Can I see it?” She asked, hoping that if she could get her hands on it, she could somehow explain away the abnormalities.

Or at the very least snatch it and make a quick escape. 

Where the hell she would flee, she didn’t know, but she knew she didn’t need another problem added to her plate.

“No … and guess what else? I’m going to have to call the Sheriff.”

“Sheriff?! Why?!” She yelled, garnering the attention of the other patrons – including the Ginger-haired man sitting two seats down. He'd already been quietly assessing the scene, but her outburst inspired a less casual observance.

"It’s the rules. We have to confiscate fake bills. He stopped, his gaze thickening as he allowed his eyes to travel from her face down her body. For the first time that day, this somewhat neutral stranger made her skin crawl. “But you look to be about his type  — bat those pretty eyelashes of yours and you’ll probably be able to get off with a warning.”

“Surely, you’re not suggesting that I use my womanly wiles to fix a problem made by your egregious accusation.”

“Egregious!? You’re the one trying to cheat out a small diner in a small town with your fake money. What happens to you is not my problem. What is, is making sure you don’t do it again.”

This was the last thing she needed.

Actually, being whisked into the past the day before her anniversary was the last thing she needed, but this certainly wasn’t helping. 

Especially now. It’d only be a matter of hours before Frank realized she was missing – that’s if her job hadn’t called him because she hadn’t shown up for work that day. She needed to figure out how to get back home before she made the local news. 

Unable to help herself, her tears built and fell hard and fast. She pressed her elbows into the counter and rested her face in her hands. “I cannot fucking believe this is my life,” she said under her breath. 

Danny turned to reach for the corded phone on the wall — another nostalgic relic from decades past she would now associate with one of the worst days of her life.  But before he could dial the Sheriff, a thick Scottish accent spoke up beside her. 

“Wait, Danny,” said the voice she quickly realized was Jamie’s. “Let me pay for the lass’ meal. It can’t be that much.”

Eyes wide, Claire shot the man a surprised glance. The other man held the phone in the air, looking between them, brows furrowed. Whoever he was, was somebody that Danny respected, as his inquiry had momentarily halted his desire for “justice.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said after a beat. “I don’t want to give an outsider the impression that it’s okay to get over on us small-town folk.”

“Just this one time.” He said, tilting his head her way. “The lass looks like she’d had a long day." Reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, he pulled out a $50 bill, dangling the money in front of the cook with a charming smile.

Danny shot her one more contemptuous glance, then returned his attention to Jamie. “And I can keep the change?” He bargained. 

“$50 for a burger and some water? You must ken me a Gomerel,” Jamie objected.

“And you must ‘ken’ me a brassy-haired Scot,” Danny returned with a laugh. “But that was your uncle, not me."

“Come on, Danny. Ye’re robbing me blind.” 

He shrugged. “That’s my price for not turning in the thief.”

Claire, who’d become more transfixed with this kind man’s thick, Scottish accent than she wanted to admit – rooted herself back in the present at his insult. “I am not a thief.”

"No, you’re just a woman handing out Party City money to hard working, small town folk.” 

Unable to help herself, Claire wound herself up to unleash an insult in kind, but Jamie interjected. "Fine, I’ll give you the $50,” Jamie replied. 

With a sigh, Danny hung the phone back up on the wall. “Fine, you got yourself a deal,” he said, taking the money from Jamie. “And I’m still keeping this,” he said, referencing Claire’s $50. 

It was the bit of cash she owned, but being absolutely broke was better than spending the night in the local jail, a fate she’d escaped thanks to this stranger. “Whatever,” she said, rising from her seat at the counter. 

Danny deposited the money into the register just as a few more people walked into the diner. More trickled in across the way. Adults, teens, kids – school and work was obviously over for the day.

And if time moved at the same pace here as it did back home, Frank would be expecting her home within a couple of hours. 

But as eager as she was to get back, she had to take care of something first. She took a step forward where the man was seated. “Thank you so much … Jamie,” she said slowly with a smile. “You didn’t have to do that, but I am so, so grateful that you did.”

He humped his shoulders. “It was nothing,” he replied in that thick, mellifluous accent of his. “But I wouldn’t suggest you try that again. People don’t take kindly to scammers in these parts.”

“I really wasn’t trying to scam anyone. I have no idea how I ended up with fake money,” she lied, though it actually wasn't a lie.

Tilting his head, he looked at her incredulously – as if he didn’t believe even an ounce of her story. “Maybe. Maybe not. Just be careful."

She nodded, unwilling to even scrounge up an explanation that he would believe, mainly because she didn’t have one – at least not on such short notice. Also, because for a moment, she got lost in the oceanic depths of his gorgeous blue eyes. 

“I will,” she said eventually. “And thanks again.” 

“It was my pleasure,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face. 

Turning back to the counter, Claire grabbed her newspaper and the rest of her ice water, then turned towards the door. 

Just as she reached the exit, he called out to her. 

“What’s your name again, lass?” 

She turned on the balls of her feet, meeting his inquiry. “What was that?”

“Yer name.”

“Oh. I’m Claire …" she said, "Claire Randall."

“It was nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jamie. Jamie Fraser.”

**********

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

It's also available on AO3!

[blackwoolncrown]

Reading list for Afro-Herbalism:

A Healing Grove: African Tree Remedies and Rituals for the Body and Spirit by Stephanie Rose Bird

Affrilachia: Poems by Frank X Walker

African American Medicine in Washington, D.C.: Healing the Capital During the Civil War Era by Heather Butts

African American Midwifery in the South: Dialogues of Birth, Race, and Memory by Gertrude Jacinta Fraser

African American Slave Medicine: Herbal and Non-Herbal Treatments by Herbert Covey

African Ethnobotany in the Americas edited by Robert Voeks and John Rashford

Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect by Lorenzo Dow Turner

Africans and Native Americans: The Language of Race and the Evolution of Red-Black Peoples by Jack Forbes

African Medicine: A Complete Guide to Yoruba Healing Science and African Herbal Remedies by Dr. Tariq M. Sawandi, PhD

Afro-Vegan: Farm-Fresh, African, Caribbean, and Southern Flavors Remixed by Bryant Terry

Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo” by Zora Neale Hurston

Big Mama’s Back in the Kitchen by Charlene Johnson

Big Mama’s Old Black Pot by Ethel Dixon

Black Belief: Folk Beliefs of Blacks in America and West Africa by Henry H. Mitchell

Black Diamonds, Vol. 1 No. 1 and Vol. 1 Nos. 2–3 edited by Edward J. Cabbell

Black Faces, White Spaces: Reimagining the Relationship of African Americans to the Great Outdoors by Carolyn Finney

Black Food Geographies: Race, Self-Reliance, and Food Access in Washington, D.C. by Ashanté M. Reese

Black Indian Slave Narratives edited by Patrick Minges

Black Magic: Religion and the African American Conjuring Tradition by Yvonne P. Chireau

Black Nature: Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry edited by Camille T. Dungy

Blacks in Appalachia edited by William Turner and Edward J. Cabbell

Caribbean Vegan: Meat-Free, Egg-Free, Dairy-Free Authentic Island Cuisine for Every Occasion by Taymer Mason

Dreams of Africa in Alabama: The Slave Ship Clotilda and the Story of the Last Africans Brought to America by Sylviane Diouf

Faith, Health, and Healing in African American Life by Emilie Townes and Stephanie Y. Mitchem

Farming While Black: Soul Fire Farm’s Practical Guide to Liberation on the Land by Leah Penniman

Folk Wisdom and Mother Wit: John Lee – An African American Herbal Healer by John Lee and Arvilla Payne-Jackson

Four Seasons of Mojo: An Herbal Guide to Natural Living by Stephanie Rose Bird

Freedom Farmers: Agricultural Resistance and the Black Freedom Movement by Monica White

Fruits of the Harvest: Recipes to Celebrate Kwanzaa and Other Holidays by Eric Copage

George Washington Carver by Tonya Bolden

George Washington Carver: In His Own Words edited by Gary Kremer

God, Dr. Buzzard, and the Bolito Man: A Saltwater Geechee Talks About Life on Sapelo Island, Georgia by Cornelia Bailey

Gone Home: Race and Roots through Appalachia by Karida Brown

Ethno-Botany of the Black Americans by William Ed Grime

Gullah Cuisine: By Land and by Sea by Charlotte Jenkins and William Baldwin

Gullah Culture in America by Emory Shaw Campbell and Wilbur Cross

Gullah/Geechee: Africa’s Seeds in the Winds of the Diaspora-St. Helena’s Serenity by Queen Quet Marquetta Goodwine

High on the Hog: A Culinary Journey from Africa to America by Jessica Harris and Maya Angelou

Homecoming: The Story of African-American Farmers by Charlene Gilbert

Hoodoo Medicine: Gullah Herbal Remedies by Faith Mitchell

Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book of Personal Charms and Practical Rituals by Luisah Teish

Just Medicine: A Cure for Racial Inequality in American Health Care by Dayna Bowen Matthew

Leaves of Green: A Handbook of Herbal Remedies by Maude E. Scott

Like a Weaving: References and Resources on Black Appalachians by Edward J. Cabbell

Listen to Me Good: The Story of an Alabama Midwife by Margaret Charles Smith and Linda Janet Holmes

Making Gullah: A History of Sapelo Islanders, Race, and the American Imagination by Melissa Cooper

Mandy’s Favorite Louisiana Recipes by Natalie V. Scott

Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present by Harriet Washington

Mojo Workin’: The Old African American Hoodoo System by Katrina Hazzard-Donald

Motherwit: An Alabama Midwife’s Story by Onnie Lee Logan as told to Katherine Clark

My Bag Was Always Packed: The Life and Times of a Virginia Midwife by Claudine Curry Smith and Mildred Hopkins Baker Roberson

My Face Is Black Is True: Callie House and the Struggle for Ex-Slave Reparations by Mary Frances Berry

My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies by Resmaa Menakem

On Her Own Ground: The Life and Times of Madam C.J. Walker by A'Lelia Bundles

Papa Jim’s Herbal Magic Workbook by Papa Jim

Places for the Spirit: Traditional African American Gardens by Vaughn Sills (Photographer), Hilton Als (Foreword), Lowry Pei (Introduction)

Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome by Dr. Joy DeGruy

Rooted in the Earth: Reclaiming the African American Environmental Heritage by Diane Glave

Rufus Estes’ Good Things to Eat: The First Cookbook by an African-American Chef by Rufus Estes

Secret Doctors: Ethnomedicine of African Americans by Wonda Fontenot

Sex, Sickness, and Slavery: Illness in the Antebellum South by Marli Weiner with Mayzie Hough

Slavery’s Exiles: The Story of the American Maroons by Sylviane Diouf

Soul Food: The Surprising Story of an American Cuisine, One Plate at a Time by Adrian Miller

Spirituality and the Black Helping Tradition in Social Work by Elmer P. Martin Jr. and Joanne Mitchell Martin

Sticks, Stones, Roots & Bones: Hoodoo, Mojo & Conjuring with Herbs by Stephanie Rose Bird

The African-American Heritage Cookbook: Traditional Recipes and Fond Remembrances from Alabama’s Renowned Tuskegee Institute by Carolyn Quick Tillery

The Black Family Reunion Cookbook (Recipes and Food Memories from the National Council of Negro Women) edited by Libby Clark

The Conjure Woman and Other Conjure Tales by Charles Chesnutt

The Home Place: Memoirs of a Colored Man’s Love Affair with Nature by J. Drew Lanham

The Jemima Code: Two Centuries of African American Cookbooks by Toni Tipton-Martin

The President’s Kitchen Cabinet: The Story of the African Americans Who Have Fed Our First Families, from the Washingtons to the Obamas by Adrian Miller

The Taste of Country Cooking: The 30th Anniversary Edition of a Great Classic Southern Cookbook by Edna Lewis

The Tuskegee Syphilis Study: An Insiders’ Account of the Shocking Medical Experiment Conducted by Government Doctors Against African American Men by Fred D. Gray

Trace: Memory, History, Race, and the American Landscape by Lauret E. Savoy

Vegan Soul Kitchen: Fresh, Healthy, and Creative African-American Cuisine by Bryant Terry

Vibration Cooking: Or, The Travel Notes of a Geechee Girl by Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor

Voodoo and Hoodoo: The Craft as Revealed by Traditional Practitioners by Jim Haskins

When Roots Die: Endangered Traditions on the Sea Islands by Patricia Jones-Jackson

Working Conjure: A Guide to Hoodoo Folk Magic by Hoodoo Sen Moise

Working the Roots: Over 400 Years of Traditional African American Healing by Michelle Lee

Wurkn Dem Rootz: Ancestral Hoodoo by Medicine Man

Zora Neale Hurston: Folklore, Memoirs, and Other Writings: Mules and Men, Tell My Horse, Dust Tracks on a Road, Selected Articles by Zora Neale Hurston

The Ways of Herbalism in the African World with Olatokunboh Obasi MSc, RH (webinar via The American Herbalists Guild)

[miffy-junot]

Because Thorvaldsen had never made a portrait of Napoleon during his lifetime, he took his inspiration from the funerary mask, of which he owned a copy in plaster. This mask was moulded in St Helena by Antonmarchi, the Emperor's doctor, two days after the Emperor's demise, and was very widely circulated. The sculptor mingled features of the mask with other references, in particular the canonical image of Napoleon's face provided by Chaudet's 1804 bust, marble versions of which were produced in large numbers by the workshops in Carrara during the Empire (production topped over 1,000 copies); copies were also produced in biscuit-ware by the Sèvres Porcelain Factory, and in bronze. The Danish sculptor chose a grandiose setting for his bust, one that recalls the apotheoses of classical antiquity. On the right shoulder of his hero he has placed the aegis (the shield of the gods, in particular of Jupiter and, above all, Minerva), adorned with the head of Medusa entwined with snakes; here his inspiration came from Roman models such as the cameo portrait of the first Roman Emperor, Augustus, now in the British Museum, London. Napoleon is perched on the terrestrial globe, an indication of the universal scope of his power. The ensemble is supported at the front by an eagle with spread wings, the insignia of imperial glory, and, on the reverse, by a palm tree with spreading branches; the palm frond was as an accessory to the victorious hero.

source: Citizens and Kings - portraits in the age of revolution 1760-1830

[deangirlsstuff67]

Luck of the Irish

Beau Arlen x Reader

Authors note: Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone! Just a little Beau fluff before some smutty goodness. This man would be so much fun to have arrest me. Hope you enjoy your day and be safe ♡

Masterlist | Patreon

-------------------------------------------------------

St. Patrick's Day. It's almost as bad as Halloween for anyone in law enforcement. The one day a year everyone believes their Irish, and everyone gets drunk disorderly charges.

This was Beau Arlen's first one as acting sheriff in Helena, Montana. So far, nothing was too serious. Kids partying in the country, couple drunks started early today and were already in the holding cells. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Jenny Hoyt comes into his office, "hey Beau, we got a domestic in progress."

Great. Well, his easy day just ended. Grabbing his cowboy hat off his desk he follows the blonde out to her truck.

"What we looking at Hoyt?"

"Nothing that can't be defused. I know the woman, y/n, she's a local bartender. Sounds like her jerk of an ex has shown up drunk out of his mind, and she's got him standing at the end of her rifle."

Good grief. Some guys need to learn to take a hint. Jenny gives him the low down on their very messy and public breakup. Typical story, he couldn't keep his dick in his pants, and she found out. Now he's back begging for another second chance.

Got to admit, knowing y/n isn't letting him get away with what he did to her shows she's strong.

It's as you'd expect when Beau and Jenny get on scene. A tall blonde, obviously drunk, man is swaying back and forth as he talks with his hands. Trying desperately to get back into her pants.

The woman, who he assumes is y/n, is a beautiful brunette. She's hyper focus on her ex boyfriend. The rifle point straight at the guys genitals.

Beau shakes his head with a smirk when he realizes she's not pulling any punches today.

"Jenny this isn't any of your concern. I've got it handled." Y/N says without breaking eye contact with the blonde man.

"That I have no doubt Darling." Beau's deep voice breaks the brunette out of her focus. Drawing her blue eyes to his green ones. God damn she's beautiful.

Apparently, her ex has finally figured out there are more people here. He whips around to face the two officers, "I don't know who you are, but stop hitting on my girl before I knock your lights out."

Looks like blondy has some balls.

"Hello. Names Beau Arlen. I'm the new acting sheriff at the moment." Beau extends his hand out to shake.

Drunken and disorderly glares at it before speaking, "I don't give a shit who you are, get your fucking eyes off my woman asshole."

Y/N is the first to speak, "Jeremy shut the fuck up you idiot." She shakes her head before addresses Jenny and I, "you have to excuse him, he's apparently left his brain cell at home today."

"Baby don't be like that. I swear I didn't mean it, it was an accident."

"Oh yes, you accidentally slipped and your dick just fell into her vagina right?"

Beau couldn't help but laugh. It honestly had to be the best thing he's ever heard from a woman. Of course, Beau laughing pissed off the man standing in front of him. So much so that he made the mistake of trying to swing at the sheriff.

It took Beau two well practiced moves to have the drunk idiot on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Jenny took the man to her truck, leaving Beau and y/n alone.

"I had it handled." Y/N sassed while lowering her weapon. Beau couldn't while the smile off his face.

"I have no doubt. But what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't help a pretty lady such as yourself?"

"Pretty lady hey?"

Beau nodded and bit his lower lip. He knows he should be the attracted to someone he is dealing with in a professional capacity. Something about the fierce brunette has him rock hard in his blue jeans.

No other words are spoken between the two as she walks up to him. Rising on her tip toes to bring her lips to his. The kiss is hot, desperate, and passionate. When she breaks away, he's left craving more.

"Must be luck of the Irish that you were here to help me then, sheriff."

With that she walks back into her house. Leaving Beau wanting more and her drunken ex swearing in the backseat.

[zahri-melitor]

Okay a loose Recent Reads roundup:

Birds of Prey: Sirens of Justice: so I was lured (tricked) into reading this as Gail Simone wrote one of the stories, even though it, sigh, contains far too much Harley Quinn due to movie synergy. The Dinah and Helena banter is decent, but otherwise this felt...aggressively fine. The Helena story is very pat in terms of how people tend to write Huntress shorts, though I guess it wasn't 'Helena worries about a student' this time.

The Question: The Deaths of Vic Sage: very much in conversation with O'Neil's run, of course, and also clearly reacting to contemporaneous US racial discussions. Shifting Myra to be the Mayor's sister not wife definitely alters her position in the narrative, particularly in terms of her obligations and response to situations. It is incredibly bleak in places, but that simply reflects the run it is based on and is a tribute to.

Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen: This is definitely for the Silver Age fan. Matt Fraction manages to string together solving a complex assassination plot over 12 issues by telling the story in short, 2-4 page sections that wildly jump around the timeline and are framed by 'the many ridiculous things that have happened to Jimmy Olsen'. I have absolutely no handle on the canonicity of some of this, particularly the extended Olsen family, and not knowing probably makes this read more easily. Looking at it as a whole, I'm impressed how well Fraction stitched what was effectively episodic 2 page fills into a complete narrative. The energy of the story is relentless. Best read in small doses.

Batman: Pennyworth R.I.P: god this comic could have been so much better than it was. It’s fine and accomplishes exactly what it was intended to do - tell a story of how Alfred influenced and looked out for each of Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian and Barbara - and sets everyone up to be mildly pissed at Bruce. But just for one example, it would have been HUGELY more powerful if they’d been able to use Dick, with his memories just restored, facing the fact he wasn’t there when Alfred needed him and his last interactions were so impersonal and spent pushing Alfred away.

Catwoman 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: again, underwhelming. Tom King played shipper and wrote his version of how the Helena Wayne story should work; the Dixon story felt 90s appropriate but the art was dire; Brubaker’s felt like a missing scene to his run; Dini’s honestly wasn’t up to the standard I’d hope for from Dini. The art pieces were great though; a lot of good commissions.

Robin 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular: I cannot work out who chose the covers used in the issue, which swing between 'iconic' and 'reminding everyone ASBAR exists was unnecessary, DC'.

Generally: they did manage to round up fairly iconic lineups for most of the stories, with some chopping and changing for a few.

Wolfman got another run at trying to frame the 'Dick quits v Bruce fires him' debate; Dixon and Grayson both submitted literal fills (Dixon's is a scene immediately after Nightwing #19 1996 and before #20; Grayson's is at least just an extra story that fits into #1-12 of her Titans 1999 run on a day all the second stringers didn't come to work). I don't actually have a problem with any of these - they're nice additional material, but mostly more of the same. Seeley & King's suffers from the usual Seeley problem for me where it would be vastly improved by having a different focus; but it does feel straight out of his Grayson run, with everything that implies (down to the St Hadrian's student I wish was not present). All of the Dick stories are basically "we got the team back together" creative line ups.

Jason, in contrast, makes it really obvious that nobody can define a definitive Jason run, and so gets the tiniest story with Winick and Dustin Nguyen. I checked, and Nguyen did draw part of UTRH, but I wouldn't have associated him as a character-defining artist for Jason. The story's cute. Winick sidestepped having to commit to anything about his opinions on post-Flashpoint Jason direction.

Tim got Adam Beechen (which honestly makes me happy, I don't care about anyone else's opinion) and luxuriates in Tim having to play civilian; Tynion gets a Rebirth story that I can't quite work out his timing on (it's supposed to be a prequel, but Dick is already back in costume as Nightwing and talking to Tim, suggesting that several issues of the Rebirth Nightwing take place significantly before 'Tec #934) that is a classic 'Tim tells everyone how he feels about his brothers' story. I realise everyone boring has complained about Tim calling Damian a 'horrible gremlin' but the thing is you see I can only read nicknames like that as full of affection. The back and forth is an important part of their relationship, as shown by Damian snapping 'you're only listening to the insults'.

Steph gets her 71 days as Robin slightly padded out and Amy Wolfram manages to pick up Willingham's tone pretty well; I suspect she liaised with Damion Scott quite a bit on this piece.

Damian has a Super Sons piece from Tomasi, because it's the most lighthearted option available and it sells very well (it's sickly sweet). Which was probably the right call as the other piece is clearly written by Robbie Thompson to accompany his Teen Titans run and for the downward spiral going on there. Which is honestly a bit of a pity for Damian, given everyone else got feature pieces from favourite runs, and he got the 'this slots into your current story' piece.

[oflights]

Hi! I’m actually going to Montreal for the first time next week for a wedding, but am staying a few extra days to explore. I’d love any recommendations if you feel so inclined to share any! I also love tearooms and books if you feel comfortable sharing your faves!

god i have been so excited to answer this lol, very pleased to be home and comfy and have the time!!

i'm probably going to give you too many and this is high recency bias but here we go:

drawn and quarterly (bookstore in the mile end, a very cool neighborhood; for coffee/pastries in a beautiful spot, try pastel rita on boul. st. laurent a few streets away!!)

the word (bookstore on rue milton; this is right near mcgill's main campus and it's cash only!!)

mccord stewart museum (my fave museum right across from mcgill; the current exhibits are absolutely stunning, cannot recommend enough; the gift shop also has great stickers and postcards)

notre dame basilica (skip the light show, it's not really worth the money, but go during the day and make sure to see the wedding chapel if it's open! it's absolutely beautiful)

old montreal (it's great to just walk around here and pop into little shops, plus some of the best restaurants in the city. right by notre dame)

high tea at gryphon d'or (this is a bit out of the way in monkland village/ndg, which is where i used to live, but it's worth a trip. the tea selections are incredible [highly rec the cherry almond] and the sandwiches/desserts/scones are great. they give you a bunch of spreads for the scones, including the best caramel i've ever had in my life. bring cash here too, and make a reservation)

for restaurants, i'm going to rec mostly old montreal ones because that's where i was just staying and they're fresh in my mind!

gaspar brasserie (classic yummy french food, the duck is so good)

helena (portuguese food, great if you like seafood, and get the pastel de nata and the churros for dessert)

brasserie 701 (good for brunch/lunch; the 701 burger is stunning and so are their oatmilk lattes)

dinette marcella (really good italian food)

la banquise (for every kind of poutine you can imagine; this in the plateau, which is another great neighborhood to walk around in)

chifa (fun peruvian tapas!)

okay i could go on and on lol i'm sorry, i hope this is helpful!!

[lordturkish-robomallcop]

Hi! Imma go for it.

21/46/47/48 For Ana and Mihal (I have a weakness for codependent Tzim child/sire duos, what can I say). 

And 14/26 for Eliza but about her being a ghoul. 

hELL YEAH BUDDY.

Apologies ahead of time this is gonna be a Lot Of Text because I ramble hard. I tried to keep it brief but... it is clearly impossible for me to keep things brief. Also spoilers for future Limits of an Invitation/Project Cadmus stuff-ahoy! Nothing earth-shattering, but if that's a concern I wanted to flag that right off the bat in case there's anyone who wants to go into the fic blind. But with all that being said, let's dive under the fold and chat some tzims and their very "fortunate" ghouls!

21 Mihal/Ana - Predator Type This has changed/evolved for both of them over time based on what was available. Words from ST Roan on Mihal: “Word of god says predator type is a game term that is great for creating newer vamps but not narratively necessary or universally applicable to elder npcs… That said, since coming to America Mihal’s go to types are Osiris and Siren. Especially Osiris in Hollywood era. Before was often, but not always Montero, when utilizing ghouls since that’s common for old school tzims.” Valeriy would've been Mihal's main guy for netting dinner-- he's been doing it his entire life as a Grimaldi, he (was) a turbo-pro, 10/10 would doordash again. The NY->Hollywood scene was a constant churn of cult creation/destruction around whatever vanity project the two were making/beefing over at the given moment. Now in Fairhaven, he's a lot more lowkey so def more of a Siren than Osiris these days. Ana is a Blood Leech through and through. While he can settle for human blood, it has never slaked him unless it's a Rev or another kindred. His early days he remained bound to Mihal and supplemented his diet by tapping the schlacta/ghouls on the estate, as well as whatever poor sucker he could rip into traveling through their domain.

When Helena arrived and the pack was formed/as it grew, Ana would cleave more and more from his packmates. Also, obviously, if there was a Cammie lick that needed dusting he always had first dibs.

Now that he has been separated from the pack and Hermia is def not as down to be tapped on a whim as Mihal... Ana may have had to cut some deals with the Fairhaven branch of the Circulatory System to keep his meal plan buttoned-up and to his standards.

46 - Mihal/Ana, What are their Ambitions? 47 - Mihal/Ana, What are their Desires? Popping these two together bc they go hand in hand. Mihal and Ana were both 'freed' from their sires/sabbat expectations in the space of a couple of months. So weirdly, they're at almost identical turning points. Always mirrors, these two! Mihal: FIRSTLIGHT knocked down their doors and dusted their Ductus, as well as gave him a window to torpor their Bishop/his sire Vratislav. For the first time in centuries, he's beholden to no one. 900 years in counting and he's finally earned this 'moment' and he isn't going spend it rashly. Right now he has what remains of the pack, a precarious position hugging the Tower, and an prodigal childe who isn't coming home as quickly as he would like.

He desires stability, but as method of securing his own agency and control. He never wants to be subject to another's whims again after being bound to Vrat--to the point of faking partaking in the vaulderie unbeknownst to the rest of his pack. His ambition is securing a legacy that can stand shoulder-to-shoulder if not entirely surpass the true Elders of his bloodline. Which is a tall order when your Grandsire is Vykos, but Mihal isn't known for his humility. So, why not get his childe that city he always dreamed of? Ana: Mihal saw fit to 'cut him off' for a few reasons. First is political-- the FIRSTLIGHT operation left every kindred faction in Fairhaven scrambling. True-Cam heads pissed that the Cam is now mostly made up by ex-sabbat opportunists/anarch dregs. Anarch heads pissed that their leaders sold them out to the Cam when they were so close to taking it down. The two Sabbat packs that rolled over and renounced the Sword of Caine for protection are regarded to only slightly better than the few thinbloods that managed to make themselves useful enough not to get purged-it's a shit time for everyone in Fairhaven rn. Ana was the only one in the pack that Mihal trusted could make it out the other side of a bond while still being in his pocket. Cynically assumes if the remorse doesn't pull him back, the addiction will. Simultaneously, this is also to continue their escalating game of spite. Shortly before the raid, the two had a more-major-than-usual falling out over Mihal's treatment of Roman-- yeah surprise Roman is still alive and kicking as Ana's husbandish ghoul to this day. Yes it's a full can of worms but long story short Ana sticking up for Roman/at times putting Roman *above* Mihal has been the Issue Of The Past Century. Playing second fiddle to a Chisel? Kindly fuck off with that, Darling. Ana shares Mihal's desire for stability, but inverted. Bonds, Pleasure, Love, All Which Keeps The Beast At Bay-- its rooting the self deep into those you serve and who serve you. It's dedication, it's till death do you fucking part. Part of woodworking as a vampire is accepting that you are incredibly vulnerable to the thing you are shaping, that it could destroy you in a blink. He carries that attitude into not just his fleshcrafting but his day-to-day. Sure giving himself over, allowing that vulnerability, is a kind of oblivion, but it's an oblivion he can navigate, that he knows intimately and can maybe even thrive in/manipulate to his own ends.

His ambition? He'd love to know, he's taking suggestions. In the past he'd say cutting his own skyline-- something that he had begun to do when they first migrated to Fairhaven. Two downtown residential towers were drafted by his hand, but he's nowhere near amassing the resources to get another project off the ground in the current political climate. So he's taken in some goddamn pupils to keep the drafting hand limber. Maybe that'll be something. 48 - Something that I spent a lot of time on! Damn! Well, easy answer is the fic. But I think if I wanted to dig in, it'd be the bloodline/character arc timeline that I made that starts with the eldest and ends with Eliza. I spent a weekend reading clanbooks/supplements across editions as well as marinating in the vtm wiki to nail down what themes/trends I liked and wanted to play with as well as general history skimming because I, Mr. Podunk Midwestern Man, got most of my education about 1800's Russia from Chekov plays. Then I just went hog wild on a google doc and peppered my ST with too many questions so I could build out some of my own loresheets. Now I can not only tell you what Ana and Eliza were up to at any given point but also what their parents and grandparents were generally up to. Generational Narratives! I like em! I like the big sprawling tangled up casts even if the majority of them only exist offscreen/in the lore notes.

A fun fact which arose from this: Ana has a cousin who is his age, still breathing, leading an Obertus research initiative on the East Coast. She's wheeling and dealing with multiple Farm teams, funding Renditions in exchange of getting first dibs on any ghouls or suspected tzim that get bagged.

14 - Eliza, How did they initially feel after being ghould? Did they like being reborn into something new or did it take them a while to cope with their new reality? Eliza's first reaction was to compartmentalize the shit out of the situation and move on. It took a day or two for it to start to fully sink in, but overall she adapted well at first. This is mostly thanks to Ana taking a more hands-off approach, so outside of the basics (the blood bond situation and the masquerade of the living dead situation) what she learned and when was in her hands. It's a luxury of having a robust collection of kindred writing a keycard away at the University. Though the first time seeing Ana's 'Garden' definitely had a negative impact on her, throwing the whole arrangement back into question. Especially after learning that the 'Poppy' was Ana's last protégé, as well as the source of her current arm-- it launches her into an existential spiral.

Thankfully Roman turns out to be solid support, he steps into paternal role and helps guide her through it. He tells her that he's spent his time in the garden, that it was terrible and unforgivable, and yet he's sitting here with her today. The situation isn't ideal but it isn't unsalvageable, is his belief. He's seen the full scope of degeneration and growth, and he's convinced that the scales are tipped toward growth. Eliza isn't but also understands that, right now, this is what she has to work with. 26 - Eliza, Do they want to become human again or are they fine as a ghoul?

Eliza goes back and forth. In her darker moments she sometimes wishes Ana hadn't saved her. It's easy to see her life as an unnatural extension when her ghouling was that traumatic, and she is aware that she's complicit to some nasty shit. At the same time, the more she works with Ana and Roman the more desensitized she becomes.

Another major factor is her mother, Alana. She leads a Farm team in eastern Iowa, seasoned to the point where most FIRSTLIGHT hawks know of/have worked with her in the past.

Needless to say Alana Locks In the second she discovers Eliza's been ghoul'd. Full blown Rendition/Conversion team. It's ugly, and almost identical to the Garden/Circulatory System operations she was pissed at Ana about.

She gets out the other side with the general notion of "Its Complicated And I Don't Fucking Know, Dude." But she isn't one to romanticize humanity, not anymore. ... Whew. I think I need a nap.

Thank you @hlozt for the ask! As you can see I was chomping at the bit to ramble about these terrible lads. Hopefully it made some amount of sense!!

To everyone else-- if you made it this far/read all that, damn! Thanks! Have a draft Ana Zulo drawn by Roan for your efforts!

[ereardon]

My Girl [Chapter 5][Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OC]

Summary: Jake Seresin could be the answer to all of your dating woes. He’s the full package: steady job, mature, dependable, attractive to a fault. The polar opposite of every guy your age and he’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. But there’s one roadblock: he’s a single father to four-year-old Ellie. Jake is looking for a level of commitment you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give, and he’s not willing to bring someone into his daughter’s life who isn’t there for the long haul. And even if you are stepmom material, is Jake ready to let someone back in his life while still mourning the recent loss of his late wife? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Lawyer Natalie West]

WC: 3.8K

Warning: Age gap, cursing, smut, mention of death

Series masterlist here

Please fill out this form here to join my tag list

“This is our estate Cabernet Sauvignon.” 

You lifted the glass to your lips and copied the sommelier — swirling the wine around in the glass and taking a deep sniff before taking a sip. 

“You’ll taste the rich, dark berry profile, as well as a hint of tobacco. Now this wine in particular has a medium tannin build, so it’s slightly dry, but with a very smooth finish.” 

Jake took a second sip of his wine and you could have sworn he worked for the CIA for how little information his facial features gave away about whether or not he enjoyed it. 

“Now I’m going to go grab our next bottle from the cellar and we will open that in fifteen minutes,” the sommelier, a tall man with broad shoulders, said. “I’ll let you enjoy the cab.” 

You smiled as he passed your table before turning to Jake. 

“What do you think?” you asked him, nodding toward the selection of wine glasses on the table. You had tried four different bottles over the course of the last ninety minutes, and the alcohol was going to your head. 

“Can I be honest?” Jake whispered softly, leaning over the table, the collar of his polo almost skimming the lip of one of his discarded glasses. 

“Of course.” 

“They all taste the damn same.” 

You laughed, a loud cackle, and had to lean back with your hand pressed over your mouth while Jake’s face cracked into a smile. “You’re going to get us kicked out,” you whispered after the laughter subsided and Jake simply shook his head, leaning back and pushing his sunglasses back over his eyes. He was effortlessly handsome. You had watched multiple women follow him with their eyes as he got up earlier to use the bathroom. There was something almost primal in the pride you had knowing he was yours. . 

After the tasting wrapped, Jake took your hand and led you out to the gardens. “Are you having a nice time?” he asked softly. 

You stopped walking, pulling him in closer and knotting your hands behind his neck. “Jake, I’m having the absolute best time. Thank you for bringing me here.” As you leaned up to kiss him, his fingers found your waist, pulling you flush against him and you moaned into his mouth as you felt his erection brush against your upper hips. 

Now that you knew what it was like to fuck Jake, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to go back to anything else. Anyone else.

“What’s next on the agenda?” you asked, your lips still bruised from the night before. 

“We have dinner reservations at 8:30 in St. Helena,” he said. “They’re supposed to have a great halibut.”

You nodded. “That sounds nice. Or, we could go back to the hotel, order room service, and eat in bed naked.” 

Jake’s eyes widened and you felt his hand slip down to the pocket of your jeans, squeezing your ass. “God, woman, you read my mind.” 

Your chuckle was cut short by his mouth on yours, and when he pulled away you felt a gust of fresh air that left you cold and needy. “Where are you going?” you whined as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

“Calling to cancel our reservation,” he said, “and to have the driver pull around. I’m taking you home now.” 

“But the cellar tour doesn’t start for fifteen more minutes!” 

He shook his head. “We’re not gonna make it, sweetheart.” You saw the lust in his eyes. “Tell them we’ll take three bottles of the 2015 estate cabs.” 

Jake ducked and pressed the slim phone to his ear and you smiled as he walked off, admiring him from afar. 

Once the flood gates had opened, it was hard to keep your hands off each other. Jake’s fingers inched dangerously close to your core as he rested his hand on your leg during the drive back to the vineyard, the driver up front blissfully unaware of how badly you wanted to straddle Jake in the back seat. 

“I can’t wait to be inside of you again,” he whispered into your ear as the car turned onto the resort’s main road and you felt yourself pulsating around nothing, growing more desperate as the minutes ticked by. 

The sun started to dip down as Jake tugged your hand, practically dragging you into the room and you giggled as he shut the door behind him, a tent already forming in his pants. 

“Aren’t you a little eager,” you tutted, running your hand over his crotch and he whimpered, shutting his eyes and leaning back against the door. 

“Don’t tease me, baby,” he whispered gruffly but you knew that he loved it. 

“That’s all I know how to do,” you replied, already shrugging off your jeans and sweater, shoes long discarded, and Jake licked his lips, ripping his shirt off and meeting you, breathless, in the middle of the room, your bare chests pressed together. 

When you broke apart, your hands were already on his belt, pushing down his pants. Jake grunted into your shoulder as you took him into your hand, slowly pumping down his full length. 

“Sit down,” you whispered softly and Jake took a seat on the edge of the bed, fully naked. You knelt down between his legs, fingers skimming over his thighs, before leaning forward and taking his cock into your mouth, tongue pressed up flat against the underside of his tip. 

He threw his head back with an open-mouth moan, which only spurred you on more. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, tipping forward and taking him deeper into your throat and one of Jake’s hands came out to brush your hair out of your face, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, Nat, you’re so good at that. Such a pretty little mouth all over my cock,” he whispered, his voice breaking as another moan ripped through him. 

You felt Jake’s hips lift up from the bed, trying desperately to get you to take all of him in your mouth. It caused you to choke, a strangled sound bubbling out of the corners of your mouth along with saliva as he rammed hard into your mouth, and Jake immediately pulled back once he saw the wetness in your eyes, lifting your face off of him and wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Shit, honey, are you OK? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” There was a hint of panic in his deep voice. 

You chuckled and leaned back on your ankles. “Jake, it’s fine, honestly. I’ve been choked by dick before.”

The hardness in Jake’s eyes scared you. He wasn’t laughing with you. For a second, you were almost worried he was going to get up and walk away. You’d been judged by men in the past for your sexual history. There was an unfair bias against women who had experienced multiple partners, but for men it was a point of pride. 

You just had never thought Jake would be one of those guys. Maybe you were finally unearthing one of his red flags. 

You stood up, wiping at your mouth. “What is it?” Your voice was hard, unrelenting. It was difficult to feel powerful when you were standing in nothing but a light blue thong but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had caught you off guard. 

Jake shook his head. “I just never want to be the kind of guy who does something to you that you don’t enjoy, solely for my benefit.” 

Those were the last words you expected to fall from his mouth. 

Jake stood, cupping his hands around your cheeks. “Natalie, sweetheart, you deserve the world. Inside and outside of the bedroom. Now come here, let me make it up to you.” 

His hands slid down and grabbed you under your ass, pulling you into his arms, pressing his mouth against yours and your body instantly reacted to him, fingers tugging at his hair, wetness pooling in your panties as his cock dragged across your pelvis. 

He laid you down gently on the bed, snuggling in next to you until you two were spooning. Jake pulled your panties down and flung them over the edge of the bed, settling his large fingers between your legs. While lying on your left side, you lifted your right leg over his, giving Jake more access to your core, and he pressed down on your swollen clit, making you gasp. “Like that, baby?” he whispered softly in your ear, trailing light kisses down your neck and you laid back against him, moaning under his tongue. Jake sped up his pace before dipping lower, circling your entrance and finally pushing two fingers in, filling you up as you chanted his name. His other hand slid beneath your body, holding your waist firmly, and you could feel how hard he was against your ass. 

“Please, Jake,” you moaned, “need you in me.” 

Behind you, Jake grunted and you shifted your hips back against him, feeling him line himself up with your entrance. The tip of his cock was warm and wet and he swore lightly as he pushed the head inside of you, feeling your walls suck him in greedily. “Shit,” he murmured against your shoulder. 

“Yes, baby,” you muttered, gripping the sheets as he pressed in deeper. 

Jake’s hand moved up to cup your breast, fingers tight across your nipple, as his hips snapped against yours from behind. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” Jake whispered raggedly in your ear, picking up his pace. “Such a good girl,” he muttered, rutting into you harder and you gasped as his cock hit deeper inside of you. 

You could feel yourself edging closer to orgasm, even without Jake touching your clit, the pressure building as he repeatedly hit your front wall. “Jake, yes,” you moaned as his fingers trailed over your stomach and pressed firmly into your lower abdomen. “Fuck, please, make me cum.” 

“Cum for me sweetheart,” he murmured against you, arms tightening and pulling your body against him as his hips smacked against yours, the loud sound filling the room. “Want to feel your perfect pussy clenching around me.” 

“Shit!” you cried out, convulsing against Jake as he grunted, hand digging into your hip, cock sliding in and out faster as he chased his own high. 

“Fuck, Nat!” he sobbed, pushing into your deeper one last time and you felt his cock twitch inside of you as he poured into your core. 

Jake didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he moved his arms up until he was holding you around the middle, kissing your shoulder. 

“Baby,” he whispered softly and you closed your eyes. “I am so damn lucky.” 

Your fingers pressed against his. You didn’t need to say anything. He knew what you were thinking, because he was thinking it, too. 

You loved Jake Seresin. 

And you were pretty sure he loved you back. 

***

“I think it’s time.” Jake’s voice was velvety over the phone. 

“Time for what?” you said, yawning. You were lying in bed, about to go to sleep. It had been a long day at the office and your brain was scrambled eggs. 

“For you to meet Ellie.” You shot up in bed to a seated position, your eyes wide. You and Jake had been together nearly three months at this point. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m just deciding things as I go, Nat,” he said quietly into the phone. “I haven’t done this before. As a parent, you have to be really careful about who you introduce to your child. You need to make sure they’re someone who is going to stick around. I can’t bring people into Ellie’s life who are just going to be fleeting characters.” 

He paused. 

“So I guess I’m asking you, sweetheart. Are you ready?” 

You nodded and then realized he couldn’t see you through the phone. “Yes, Jake, I want to meet her. I’m ready.” 

***

Standing on the wrap around porch of Jake’s house, you could almost feel the warmth inside. Jake had invited you over for their annual Christmas tree night: set up the tree, bake cookies, watch a movie. You got the feeling that it was a tradition that he and Ellie held very dearly, and you were honored to be included. 

Taking a few deep breaths, you lifted your fingers and knocked on the door. 

It swung open to reveal Jake wearing a green cable knit sweater and jeans, smiling broadly. 

“Hi,” you whispered softly. 

“Hey there,” he said and you had expected him to lean in for a kiss, until you saw the small fingers wrapped around his leg. “Come on in.” 

He shut the door behind you and you smiled, Ellie’s small golden head peeking out from behind Jake. 

“Ellie, honey, this is daddy’s friend Natalie. Can you say hi?” 

You crouched down and smiled and Ellie slowly let go of her dad’s leg, stepping to the side. “Hi!” Her voice was squeaky and delightful. She wore a small red dress with white tights, her lips a shiny pink, her blonde curls pulled back from her face with a small bow clip. 

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you,” you said softly. “Your dad has told me so much about you.” 

She smiled. “You’re pretty.” 

Jake laughed and held out a hand, pulling you to standing. “Yes, she is,” he said gently. “Come on, sweetpea, let’s go check on the cookies.” 

Ellie grinned, and you saw Jake so plainly etched across her features, before darting down the hallway toward what you could only assume was the kitchen. Jake turned to you and once Ellie was out of view, pressed his lips to yours softly. 

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” 

He placed his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the kitchen. Jake’s house was traditional, with white walls and mid-wall paneling, soft wooden accents, and hardwood floors. It felt straight out of a southern magazine. You had to stop yourself from searching for photos of Lizzie to make comparisons with yourself. 

In the kitchen, Ellie kneeled on a stool, her small hands pressing into a blob of pale cookie dough and she had somehow managed to get white flour all down the front of her dress in the thirty seconds it had taken you and Jake to follow her down the hall. 

“Sweetheart, did you spill?” Jake asked softly, crossing the room and pulling Ellie into his arms, dusting the flour from her dress as she laughed.

“Daddy!” she squealed. “Let me go!” 

He set her back down on the chair she had been kneeling on, and waved you over. “Come help us, Nat. We’re terrible at cutting the cookies.”

“I’m making Santa hats,” Ellie said, looking up at you. You recognized Jake’s green eyes looking out at you from her delicate face and stepped closer, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater and turning to the sink. 

“Wow Santa hats,” you said, washing your hands and patting them dry with a towel before returning to the other side of the kitchen island. “How are you going to decorate them?” 

“With frosting!” 

Her smile was infectious. Jake patted her head softly. “The frosting is her favorite part. Well that, and eating the raw cookie dough.” 

You watched Ellie sneak an edge of raw dough in her mouth and give you a sly grin. You reached down and popped a scrap of sugar cookie dough into your mouth and Ellie giggled. “That’s my favorite part too,” you whispered.  

It felt almost surreal watching Jake interact with Ellie. You knew that he was sweet and kind, but this was a new side of him that you got a front row seat to. The way he grinned at her and laughed as she wiped her flour-covered hands on his sweater. How his voice dipped into a softer register when he was showing her how to transfer the cookies onto the baking tray, the way he seamlessly chatted with her while mixing food coloring into the frosting bowls. 

Jake had tied an apron around you, but by the time the cookies were done baking you were still covered in flour and frosting and sprinkles. At one point you had accidently dropped almost an entire bottle of green sprinkles on the counter, and Ellie proceeded to dip her Santa hat cookie in it, resulting in a hybrid of elf hats alongside the red Santas. 

“We’ll be right back, sweetheart,” Jake said to Ellie, patting her head where she sat on the couch. “Going to find Natalie a clean shirt to wear and when I come back we can start getting the Christmas tree decorated, OK?” 

She nodded excitedly and he pressed the TV on, starting The Grinch, the Jim Carrey version, and placed his hand on your lower back, leading you upstairs to the master bedroom. Jake opened a drawer and pulled out a soft flannel button down. 

“Does this work?” he asked, eyeing your dirty sweater. 

“Perfect.” 

You reached out and took it in your hands, skin brushing against Jake. For a moment, you could tell there was something he wanted to say. But then he simply smiled. “I should get back down there,” he replied. “Come down whenever you’re ready.” 

You nodded and watched him disappear down the stairs. Stripping off your dirty sweater, you pulled on Jake’s flannel, which fell to your knees but you didn’t care. You folded the used sweater and placed it on the ground before standing up and coming face-to-face with a wedding photo of Jake and Lizzie. 

To your horror, she looked just like the woman from your dream. She was unapologetically beautiful. Creamy skin, shiny blonde hair that fell in silky waves, bright white smile, piercing blue eyes. Her nose was slightly crooked, like Ellie’s, and the way Jake looked at her in the photo made your heart plummet in your chest. You had never once seen him look so happy. So at ease. It broke your heart a little to know that Jake had lost someone who made him look that way. 

The knowledge that you were standing in the bedroom that Jake once, in not the too distant past, shared with his wife was too much. It felt stifling. You took a deep breath and hurried down the stairs. 

From around the corner, you saw Jake bent over a green storage container, handing a small woven ornament to Ellie. She grabbed it lightly and then you watched as he picked her up, holding her out so she could place it on a branch at his eye level. When he put her back down she excitedly reached back into the storage container for another ornament. 

Watching them felt like looking at a stopped movie frame. Fire roaring away, a Christmas movie playing in the background, the scent of fresh cookies still clinging to the air. 

It scared you how much you wanted to stay there in that moment. Just a slice of time, perfectly frozen. 

How much you wanted to be part of their lives. 

The rest of the night was spent helping Jake and Ellie decorate the tree. You loved that they used colored lights, and packed the ornaments onto every available space. There were ones from places they had traveled together, like a Disneyland ornament from the year before, and homemade ones Ellie had done at daycare. 

When you sat down to finish the movie, Jake seamlessly handed you a glass of wine from your Napa trip, pulling Ellie onto his lap, her tiny feet in her white stockings kicking at his legs until he whispered into her ear and she giggled before settling down. 

By the time the Grinch had returned the Whos’ Christmas gifts and decorations, you looked over to see Ellie asleep on Jake’s chest. He leaned over and pressed the remote, pausing the movie, and you saw Ellie stir in his arms. 

“Daddy?” she whispered softly. “Is it over?” 

“It is,” he said back quietly. “Time for bed princess. Did you have a nice night?” 

She nodded and wiped at her eyes with small balled up fists before turning to you. “Natalie?” Her voice was soft and groggy. 

“Yeah hon?” 

“Will you come back for our next movie night?” 

Your heart swelled. Above Ellie’s head, you saw Jake’s eyes light up. You reached out and patted her knee. “I’d love to.” 

“Good.” 

Jake lifted her up into his arms, her chin resting on his shoulder. He mouthed to you. I’ll be right back. And then they were disappearing around the corner, up the stairs. 

You drained the rest of your wine by the time Jake came back downstairs. He caught you leaning over the sink, eating an elf hat cookie and wiping the crumbs on his flannel and he laughed. 

“Busted.”

You turned around, cookie crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and Jake stepped forward, wiping them away with his thumb. 

“There, all clean.” 

“What can I say, the kid makes a damn good cookie.” 

He reached down and threaded his fingers in yours. “You were amazing with her.” 

“She’s lovely, Jake. Honestly. I wasn’t sure what to expect but it’s obvious you’ve done a phenomenal job raising her.” 

There was a pause and you saw the lump growing in Jake’s throat. “It was mostly Lizzie,” he said softly. “Up until last year, I was barely around. I didn’t even know her, really. She grew so much every time I would see her between deployments, it was like she was a whole new person every time I came home. But now that I’m here with her, every day, it’s different.” 

“You can take some credit,” you whispered, leaning up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re an amazing dad.” 

He smiled but you saw the sadness that had made itself a home in his eyes. 

“Thank you for letting me meet her,” you said quietly. “For taking a risk on me.” 

Jake leaned down and brushed the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His lips pressed against yours softly before he pulled away, leaning his forehead down against yours. “You’re worth the risk, Nat,” he murmured softly. “You’re exactly what I didn’t even know I was looking for.” 

Tag list: @double-j @seresinhangmanjake @topguncultleader @hangmandruigandmav @momc95 @minamisulemisa @shawnsblue @blue-aconite @brehonodea @crthurston @angelbabyange @jason-toddsthighs @secretsicanthideanymore @taytaylala12 @mandylove1000 @mizzzpink @showmethewayhomehoney @tvjunkie08 @mygyn @wkndwlff @sadpetalsstuff @shanimallina87 @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @starrynightskyz @daddymack01 @buxkybarnez @pookie-cleary @clairedelarosa-blog  @princessofglitterland  @tiredqueen73 @lovingjakeseresin @lilyevanswhore @kurtkunkle17 @amortentiadrops @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @abaker74 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @townmoondaltwistle @rosiahills22 @indynerdgirl @entertainmentgal8 @misshoneypaper @starkleila @ebonyhogan24 @rosewritesitout @starrynightskyz

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT HELENA OF CONSTANTINOPLE Feast Day: August 18

St. Helena was the mother of Constantine the Great, and according to the sixth-century historian Procopius, she was born around AD 248 in Drepanum, which today is located in modern Turkey. Her full name became Flavia Julia Helena Augusta.

She married Constantius Chlorus, who would later become co-Regent of the Western part of the Roman Empire, but in order for that to happen, he had to divorce Helena after twenty-two years of marriage and marry Theodora, the step-daughter of the Emperor Maximinianus.

After the divorce, Helena and her son were dispatched to the court of Emperor Diocletian at Nicomedia where Constantine grew to be a member of the inner circle. Her son remained faithful to her, and following the death of Constantius Chlorus, Constantine succeeded him.

After he became emperor, he summoned his mother to the imperial court and conferred on her the title of Augusta, a Roman imperial honorific title given to empresses and honored women of the imperial families. Augustae could issue their own coinage, wear imperial regalia, and rule their own courts.

Constantine ordered that all honor should be paid to her as the mother of the sovereign, and he had coins struck bearing her effigy. Some of the earliest coins were minted in Nicomedia.

She embraced Christianity following her son’s victory over Maxentius, and, according to Eusebius, she 'became a devout servant of God,' and her influence helped Christianity spread throughout the empire.

She had churches built over the sacred spots in Palestine, and at an advanced age, she undertook a journey to Palestine in the year AD 324, once her son had become the sole emperor of the Roman Empire.

During this journey, she had two special churches constructed, one in Bethlehem, near the Grotto of the Nativity, and the other on the Mount of the Ascension. She had great concern for the poor, financially assisting both individuals and entire communities. It was during this time that a legend, first recorded by Rufinus, began circulating about how she had 'found' the true cross.

There are several versions concerning how the cross was found. In some, Helena has a dream telling her where the cross is buried. In another tradition, the Ethiopian Coptic tradition still celebrated as Mesquel, she followed smoke from a bonfire to the site.

However, in the version that received the most circulation and became popular in the Middle Ages, she asks the people of Jerusalem to tell her the location. When the Jewish leaders of the city are silent, she places one of them, a man named Judas, in a well until he agrees to show her the site. After seven days, he prays to God for guidance and is told to reveal the location to her. Afterwards, Judas converts to Christianity and takes the name Kyriakis, 'he who belongs to the Lord.'

Helena finds three crosses, nails, and the titulus (title) under a pagan temple. To determine which is the right cross, a deathly sick girl was brought to the site. She was touched by all three crosses, but upon being touched by the True Cross, she was restored to health.

St. Helena lived in a lavish house near the Lateran, and a pious tradition associates her with the founding of what would become the Vatican Gardens because, on that site, she spread earth brought from Golgotha to symbolically unite the blood of Jesus with that shed by thousands of early Christians who died under Nero. After her death, her residence was demolished, and the Church of the Holy Cross was built on that site. On November 8, 324, she received the title Augusta, and in AD 327, Constantine changed the name of his mother’s hometown to Helanopolis. She was about eighty-two when she died on August 18, 330, with her son at her side, and her body was brought to Constantinople and laid to rest in the imperial vault of the Church of the Apostles.

She was buried in the Mausoleum of Helena, outside Rome on the Via Labicana. Her sarcophagus is on display in the Pio-Clementine Vatican Museum. Next to her is the sarcophagus of her granddaughter Saint Constantina (Saint Constance).

Her skull is displayed in the Cathedral of Trier, in Germany. As the Muslims began advancing, her body was transferred to the Abbey of Hautvillers in Reims, France in AD 849.

St. Helena is the patron saint of difficult marriages, divorced people, converts, and archaeologists.

Source: Church of St. Helena's - The Bronx, New York

[malcolmiswright]

open thread. // @classcursestarters

god, that was weird. malcolm can't get over the fact that he was somehow made to do that speech. he also can't get over the fact that someone, somehow, slipped a clip of himself and helena into a wilder home video. what the hell was that? the video was innocent enough, but he's paranoid now. does someone know something? he knows of only one person other than helena herself, and it's got him a bit on edge. that on top of seeing chris' parents and kai of all fucking people... well, he's in need of a drink in his hand to accompany his bloodshot eyes.

he sighs to himself, trying to subtly release a puff of smoke from his lips before he crosses over to the refreshment table. "please tell me someone spiked the punch in true st. mary's - i mean, new horizons - fashion. i'm clearly dying for that old 2014 feel to life," the words drip from his tongue, coated in sarcasm. always making the jokes.

[classcursehq]

"i  can't  believe  how  many  of  them  actually  came  back  after  all  these  years.  i  heard  that  the  wilders  are  coming...  isn't  malcolm  wright  giving  the  opening  speech?" 

it  might  have  a  new name  and  a  new  brand  but  you  know  that  you  are  still  breathing  the  same  air  the  moment  you  step  inside  of  new  horizons.  you  are  ushered  as  a  group  to  the  new  grand  hall  by  your  previous  headmistress,  tight  lipped  smile  and  an  impatient  air.  the  guests  aren't  there  yet...  you  thought  you  were  speaking  to  future  students  but  instead  you  are  talking  to  their  parents.  it  becomes  clear  as  you  are  handed  the  programmes  that  you  are  being  used  as  show  ponies,  not  inspirations  to  a  new  generation  but  to  encourage  their  parents  to  empty  their  pockets  for  a  new  lease  of  life  at  new  horizons.  some  of  you  have  suspicions  it's  to  fund  a  new  stained  glass  window  but  you  decide  not  to  comment. 

looking  around,  it  seems  to  most  of  you  that  the  looming  threat  of  the  online  messages  has  disappeared...  just  another  stupid  class  of  2014  prank.  seats  seem  to  fill,  snacks  lined  up  at  the  side  that  you  are  looking  forwards  to  getting  to  when  this  part  is  over.  and  then  you  see  them...  god,  is  that  the  wilders?  why  are  they  wearing  vip  banners  that  look  like  they  came  from  from  party  city.  there's  no  time  to  think  about  it  because  the  first  speaker  is  already  up  and  most  of  you  are  thanking  the  lord  it  wasn't  you.  take  the  stage,  malcolm...  wait,  this  isn't  the  slideshow  that  was  prepared  for  you.  is  this  one  of  chris'  home  videos?  is  that  malcolm  and  helena  together?  did  that  seem  weird  to  anybody  else?   

somebody  yanks  out  the  projector  cable...  the  headmistress  is  waving  to  hurry  up  and  just  like  that...  the  speeches  continue  rolling  on  just  like  life  at  st  marys  always  did. 

out of character guidance:

the dash  event  that  will  take  place  from  friday  26th  until  sunday  5th  (this  can  be  extended  if  we  need  to!).    the  most  important  aspect  of  this  event  is  that  it  will  be  split  into  two  sections,  before  9pm  and  after  9pm.  this  post  will  hold  all  the  details  for  the  start  of  the  event  and  the  second  plot  drop  will  be  shared  on  monday  -  this  will  affect  what  all  characters  are  doing  after  9pm.  from  the  morning  of  the  26th,  you  can post  event  starters. 

timeline.

5:30pm: alumni arrive.

6:00pm: guests/parents arrive.

6:15pm: speeches begin opened by malcolm wright, you can choose whether your character self-elected to do a speech to the guests about their successes and time at st marys/new horizons.

7:30pm: 5 minute short video about the successes of previous st marys alumni and where are you nows then a q&a session.

8:00pm: mingling, refreshments and opportunities to catch up with your fellow students and parents who decide to stay on.

if you are ever confused about where we are up to in our story, you can click here for a summary!

[idvconfessions]

I think they did a really good job with most of the hunters lore, but I seriously cannot wrap my head around Galateas?

Like, dwarfism, legs don't work, insane, killed woman, escaped?

how did she escape? How is she connected to Ada and Emil? I mean, I'd assume its because of the game.

another thing I don't understand is galagrace and how they're "canon" (Yes, I ship them!) I just don't see how netease could make the canon. They're cute, but theyve never interacted.

I also think she should of been a survivor because how the FUCK did she die??? (As shown with other hunters, usually they die, examples; naiad, axe boy, Mary, Leo) (Other people who aren't alive; Feaster and Yidhra are gods of some sort, geisha and wu chang r spirits and the robot dude is well...a robot)

Didn't Leo also die? Soul weaver, Bane, Lizard dude was transformed from a human to a well...evil lizard, Weepy..

but....how the fuck did Galatea die.

than again each hunters just some hallucination...if that's the case netease should make them all available as survivors..right??

Moth Anon!

Hiya moth anon! I’ll try to answer some of your questions.

She escaped from the asylum by killing the nurse that was looking after her.

Galatea is connected to Ada and Emil through their canon game they had together (along with Helena, and Orpheus if you want to count him). Also their backstories all involved the White Sand Street Asylum.

Galagrace aren’t canon, this is just something people say because it’s a decently popular ship & super cute. Yep it’s true they’ve never interacted, but same goes for a lot of idv ships so it’s not that unusual really.

The whole “all hunters are dead and they’re hallucinations of survivors” is a bit tricky to understand for me really. From what I understood after reading Galatea’s lore is that she’s not actually dead. She survived her game and was alive throughout it.

I’ve linked her wiki page if you want to read up on it yourself.

[marine-indie-gal]

Greek/Roman Pantheon Headcanon Voices

Ok, so after having much retconning headcanon thoughts, I’ve decided to make up a new and improve list of some headcanon voices that I had in mind for each of the Gods from both the Greek and Roman Pantheon if they were to appear in SpongeBob SquarePants.

Greek Pantheon

King Cronus - Gerald Butler (Stoick The Vast from "How To Train Your Dragon")

Queen Rhea - Angelina Jolie (Maleficent)

Salacia - Anya Taylor-Joy (Princess Peach from "The Super Mario Bros. Movie")

Emperor Zeus - Tom Ellis (Lucifer Morningstar from "Lucifer")

Lord Hades - Alan Cumming (Bog King from "Strange Magic")

Empress Hera - Cissy Jones (Lilith Clawthorne from "The Owl House")

Demeter - Helena Bonham Carter (Mayrin from "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance")

Hestia - Deedee Magno (Pearl from "Steven Universe")

Lady Persephone -  Amy Adams (Giselle from "Enchanted")

Hermes - Ashton Kutcher (Elliot from "Open Season")

Ares - Ansel Elgort (Tommy Ross from "Carrie")

Hephaestus - Herman Tømmeraas

Aphrodite - Sydney Sweeney

Dionysus - Rhys Darby (Hypno-Potamus from "Rise of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles")

Apollo - Robert Sheehan (Klaus Hargreeves from "The Umbrella Academy")

Artemis - Hailee Steinfeld (Vi from "Arcane")

Athena - Toks Olagundoye (Mel Medarda from "Arcane")

Eris - Kristin Chenoweth (Maleficent from "Descendants")

Hecate - Bette Midler (Winifred Sanderson from "Hocus Pocus")

Hebe - Kyla Kowalewski (Anais Watterson from "The Amazing World of Gumball")

Eileithyia - Tati Gabrielle (Willow Park from "The Owl House")

Enyo - Jessica Darrow (Luisa Madrigal from "Encanto")

Zagreus - Rider Strong (Tom Lucitor from "Star vs. The Forces of Evil")

Melinoe - Claire Corlette (Sweetie Belle from "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic")

Pan - David Tennant (Crowley from "Good Omens")

Roman Pantheon

Lord Saturn - Idris Elba (Shere Khan from "The Jungle Book")

Lady Ops - Tilda Swinton (Alithea from "Three Thousand Years of Longing")

Emperor Jupiter - Kerry Shale (Harold Wilson from "The Amazing World of Gumball)

Lord Pluto - Brian Stokes Mitchell (Elktaur from "Centaurworld")

Empress Juno - Georgina Leahy (Stella Goetia from "Helluva Boss")

Ceres -  Anne Hathaway (Queen Mirana from "Alice in Wonderland")

Vesta - Ella Kenion (Delilah from "101 Dalmatian Street")

Lady Proserpina - Mia Wasikowska (Alice from "Alice in Wonderland")

Mercury - Alex Hirsch (King from "The Owl House")

Mars - Michael Kovach (Niles from "SMG4")

Vulcan - Daniel Sharman (Troy Otto from "Fear The Walking Dead")

Venus - Natasia Demetriou (Cala Maria from "The Cuphead Show")

Bacchus - Dana Snyder (Gazpacho from "Chowder")

Phoebus - Marcus Scribner (Bow from "She-Ra and The Princess of Power")

Diana - Zendaya

Minerva - Tabitha St. Germain (Princess Luna from "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic")

Discordia - Zoe Moss (Baroness Von Bon Bon from "The Cuphead Show")

Trivia - Miranda Richardson (Lady Van Tassel from "Sleepy Hollow")

Juventas - Andrea Libman (Fluttershy from "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic")

Lucina - Erica Lindbeck (Emira Blight from "The Owl House")

Bellona - Elizabeth Banks (Lucy "Wyldstyle" from "The Lego Movie")

Plutus - Tom Felton (Draco Malfoy from the "Harry Potter" film series)

Macaria - Lilly Bartlam (Skye from "Paw Patrol")

Faunus - Kayvan Novak (Nandor from "What We Do In The Shadows")

Sea Heirs

Proteus - Jack Dylan Grazer (Alberto Scorfano from "Luca")

Benthesikyme - Elle Fanning (Aurora from "Maleficent")

Kymopoleia - Sophia Lillis (Beverly Marsh from "IT")

Rhode - Dakota Fanning (Coraline Jones from "Coraline")

Isabelle - Anna Kendrick (Poppy from "Trolls")

Ruby - Sofia Carson (Pipp Petals from "My Little Pony: A New Generation")

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Ash's Gilmore Girls OC Masterlist

Gilmore Girls OC Masterlist for @the-witching-ash (none of these ocs are mine, I only organized the list)

Name: Andrew Cartwright*

Story: Everything Changes

Faceclaim: Logan Lerman

Love Interest: Kirsty Gilmore (@randomestfandoms-ocs)

Pinterest: x

*a variation of the standard To Being An Us Verse but combined with the Gilmore Girls Delicate crossover

Name: Addie Hisenburg

Faceclaim: Rachel Hilson

Story: So Much Better

Love Interest Paris Geller

Pinterest: x

Name: Alice Hawthorn

Faceclaim: Olivia Colman

Story: Multi

Love Interest: Rupert Hawthorn

Name: Callum Zang

Faceclaim: Harry Shum Jr.

Story: Royals

Love Interest: Hana Ryu, endgame Jess Mariano

Pinterest: x

Name: Clemency Campbell

Faceclaim: Helena Boham Carter

Story: Multi

Name: Daisy Gilmore

Faceclaim: Zoe Colletti

Story: Where Do You Belong

Love Interest: Dave Rygalski & Lane Kim

Pinterest: x

Name: Eileen Bloom

Faceclaim: Maya Hawke

Story: Hazy Shades of Winter

Love Interest: TBD

Pinterest: x

Name: Everett West

Faceclaim: Jesse L. Martin

Story: Multi

Name: Evie Charleston

Faceclaim: Lucy Fry

Story: It’s Nice To Have A Friend

Love Interest: Rory Gilmore & Logan Huntzberger

Pinterest: x

Name: Floyd Bach

Faceclaim: Cole Sprouse

Story: Things You Can’t Speak About / Piece By Piece*

Love Interest: Lane Kim

Pinterest: x

*a crossover with @randomestfandoms-ocs' Kirsty Gilmore / Piece By Piece universe

Name: Floyd Bach*

Faceclaim: Cole Sprouse

Story: Delicate

Love Interest: Vicki St James

Pinterest: x

*A second variation of Floyd who exists in the Delicate crossover verse with @randomestfandoms-ocs' Kirsty, Troy, Harry, Vicki, and Lottie, sometimes combined with other crossovers

Name: Grace Kim

Faceclaim: Lana Condor

Story: How Girls Should Behave

Love Interest: Regina Gilmore

Pinterest: x

Name: Hana Ryu

Faceclaim: Jenna Ushkowitz

Story: Royals

Love Interest: Callum Zang, endgame Lindsay Lister

Pinterest: x

Name: Harriet Stiles

Faceclaim: Caroline Goodall

Story: Mean

Name: Imogen Flemming

Faceclaim: Anne Hathaway

Story: Mean

Love Interest: Jess Mariano

Pinterest: x

Name: Liberty Danes

Faceclaim: Jennifer Love Hewitt

Story: There She Goes

Pinterest: x

Name: Lily Lister

Faceclaim: Lili Reinhart

Story: Fearless

Love Interest: Rory Gilmore

Pinterest: x

Name: Lydia Danes

Faceclaim: Ginnifer Goodwin

Story: My Little Corner Of The World, Multi

Love Interest: Lulu Kuschner

Pinterest: x

Name: Mario Medina

Faceclaim: John Barrowman

Story: May God Have Mercy, Multi

Name: Mercy Medina

Faceclaim: Michelle Trachtenberg

Story: May God Have Mercy

Love Interest: Logan Huntzberger

Pinterest: x

Name: Richie Gilmore

Faceclaim: Grant Gustin

Story: Things You Can’t Speak About

Love Interest: N/A

Pinterest: x

Name: Richie Gilmore*

Story: Piece By Piece/Multi

Love interest: Multi

*a variant of Richie that exists in multiple crossovers, always with @randomestfandoms-ocs' Kirsty Gilmore

Name: Richie Gilmore / Richie Donahue-Callisto*

Story: Delicate

Love Interest: Troy Donahue-Callisto & Harry Bechtel ( @randomestfandoms-ocs )

*A second variation of Richie who exists in the Delicate crossover verse with @randomestfandoms-ocs' Kirsty, Troy, Harry, Vicki, and Lottie, sometimes combined with other crossovers

Name: Regina Gilmore

Story: How Girls Should Behave

Faceclaim: Leighton Meester

Love Interests: Vance Hawthorn, Grace Kim

Pinterest: x

Name: Rupert Hawthorn

Faceclaim: Tom Cavanagh

Story: Multi

Love Interest: Alice Hawthorn

Name: Vance Hawthorn

Faceclaim: Ed Westwick

Story: Multi

Love Interest: Regina Gilmore, Colin McCrae & Finn

Pinterest: x