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myownwholewildworld · 20 days

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acta, non verba - i. a badge of honour

series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 2 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. synopsis: scotland, 83 AD after the battle of mons graupius. the romans have come up to the boundaries of their empire with a relentless desire to conquer the savages that inhabit the highlands. they won't rest until the Caledonian tribes are subjugated. Marcus Acacius is in charge of your clansmen's fate, but if such fate is similar to your family's, you know you need to do something about it. as the only living daughter of the tribe chief, your people look to you for leadership. power plays, treason, deception, rebellion, war, love, heartbreak, betrayal. and two souls, destined to despise each other, trying to navigate it all. a/n: well, here it is! the first chapter of my new series, set in what is now scotland, during the romans' conquest of the british isles in the 1st century. hope you guys like it! as always, all interactions welcome. thank you so much for reading! <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. death, aftermath of a battle, burial of family members. reader is an original character - female, has a name (callie) and a physical description, family history, etc. i'll try to keep the references to a minimum though. age gap (callie is 26, marcus is 48). mention of infidelity and becoming a widow. marcus’ and reader’s pov. i have taken some historical licenses for ease of writing (use of "clan" as synonym for "tribe", references to irish/celtic gods, the caledonian people speak modern scottish gaelic instead of a (proto-)brittonic language). w/c: ~4.2k. dividers by @saradika-graphics i'll be tagging some people at the end of the chapter who interacted with this post. dw, i won't tag you in the next chapters unless you ask me to! also, if you want to be removed from this post, please send me a dm.

A light breeze whistled through the nearby standing stones. The dying sun provided no heat, and the ethereal landscape was cold with hues of blue and grey. Despite the shimmering wildlife that came with the first hints of spring, the meadow was uncannily silent.

The crows cackling in the distance broke such tranquil peace and woke you from your slumber.

Slowly you blinked, something wet and warm covering your eyelids. You felt it slide down your skin, pooling in the dip of your collarbone. Your limbs felt so heavy, you couldn’t lift a hand to rub your eyes clean. In fact, you were so tired that even taking a deep breath hurt.

Your orbs fluttered shut, shattered and defeated.

Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, was calling you to His side. His presence was soothing, so inviting, the most melodic sounds guiding you to Him. With the eyes of your dying imagination, He extended a welcoming hand towards you, a soft smile on His mythical features.

“Come with me, sweet child of the tribes.” A guttural voice escaped His lips, so dark and sombre it enveloped you.

You nodded, gaze down, submitted to Him.

“You can’t just take her, Dhuosnos. Callie is yet to avenge them — her purpose must be fulfilled first before she can greet you as an equal.” A second voice, feminine, otherworldly and reassuring, interrupted your exchange.

Morrígan, Goddess of War, placed Her hand on Dhuosnos’ forearm as to stop Him from reaching you. A stone of relief, but also of disappointment, sat low in your stomach when He took a step back, head bowed towards Her.

Steadily you undid your curtsy, your green eyes locking on Hers. They were black as the night sky, Her pupils and irises indistinguishable from one another. You looked into the abyss of Her sight and felt a deep-rooted longing, one you never experienced before.

“You are not done yet, mo leanabh (my child). Your people await your return.” Morrígan palmed your trembling hand, escorting you back to the earthly plane.

“But…”, you turned around to look at Her, ask for Her advice.

But She had already vanished, a sweet scent of lavander left behind.

You gasped awake, your eyes so widened, the cloudy, sunset sky above felt like it was crashing down on you. You were laying down on a pool of mud. A deep, raspy grunt escaped your lungs as you tried to move your arms. When you couldn’t, you looked down, confused.

Aengus’ lifeless body was resting on top of yours. Your father’s henchman had made the ultimate sacrifice by hiding you underneath him, away from the prying eyes of the Romans. The dense liquid caressing the skin on your face was none other than his blood. A trickle of thick red dripped from the gnarly wound in his neck on to your cheek. His eyes were staring at you emptily, his soul had already left this world when you regained consciousness.

Your father, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis, the Caledonian Overlord, had come to the aid of the Taexalian Overlord, whose territory was succumbing to the legions of Gnaeus Julius Agricola, a Roman governor with a high desire to impress his Emperor, Titus Flavius Domitianus.

Your father had gathered as many fighers as the Caledonian lands could give him. Both men and women were called to arms when the tribes were threatened. Being the daughter of the Chieftain would not spare you. You would not have chosen differently anyway, had you been given the opportunity. Fighting for land, clan and honour was your duty as much as your brothers’ and sister’s.

The journey from Inbhir Nis (Inverness) to Cala na Creige (Stonehaven) had been unforgiving, with illness and evil lying in wait. But you all had been warmly welcomed by the Taexali tribe and were fed copiously, the uisge-beatha (whisky) being served like water.

Your combined armies, shy of fifteen thousand folk, had been ambushed at Raedykes during a repositioning exercise by the Roman troops led by Agricola’s most trusted man.

General Marcus Acacius.

His mere name made you sick, anger crawling under your skin.

Fighting off your own opponents, you had seen the Roman General charge against your father like a beast, wielding a gladius over his head. The metallic impact of their swords rang loud across the landscape. The men looked into each other’s souls, an exchange of words shared between them. You were too far to listen, too far to fully see what was really happening as warriors from both sides danced through the grass.

Then you foresaw it before it happened: the heavy Roman sword fell on your father, who was struck to his knees with the General’s blade lodged in his belly.

You tried to get to him, screaming “Athair (father)!” at the top of your lungs. His eyes locked on yours before he fell sideways. You lunged forward but didn’t get to him, Aengus stopping you in your tracks.

“No, Callie, it’s too late now”, he had sorrowfully whispered in your ear before throwing you off to one side to fend off an attacker.

And then blackness swallowed you, an enemy hit you in the head so hard you lost consciousness.

That was how you came to be where you were — with your back flat on the silt and Aengus’ body blanketing yours. The grey sky above you sensed your pain, and, at Taranis’ command, it parted in the middle. The God of Thunder released a downpour to clean the blood, soot and woad’s blue dye off your face and hair.

You cried your sadness away, rainy tears sliding off the corners of your eyes — your anger, your loss, your torment, you purged it all, sobbing until you were devoid of all emotion. Taking a deep breath, which caused a needling pain on your ribs, you pushed Aengus to one side to free yourself from his weight.

The thudding sound he made almost brought more tears to your eyes.

“Sorry, uncail (uncle)”, you muttered, hovering your fingertips over his eyelids to shut them for him. Now he could finally rest.

You stood up, your knees trembling like a newborn calf. A searing pain stabbed your skull, dried blood and dirt gathering on the wound on your scalp. With a straight back, you dared to look around you. The bodies of your own men and women were scattered around the hills of Raedykes. So many lives lost, you heard all your ancestors screaming from above, their cries falling upon you in the way of rain. The green, long grass was reddened with blood, but the weeping sky had started to wash away the atrocities committed by the Romans.

Then you saw him. Your athair.

“No, no, please, no...”, you whispered as your sight became blurry again, dragging your feet towards the fallen body of your dad.

Your soul tried to tear itself apart, become its own entity. You had to summon the last drop of the royal blood that ran through your veins to keep yourself in one piece. You knelt before him, craddling his bloody hand between yours. Unconciously your body rocked back and forth until you hugged him, laying flat on top of him.

Time stood still, like a thread on the expert hands of a wool weaver. It could have been minutes, hours or days, your pain too great to bear, to comprehend.

And then you felt a hand lightly tap your shoulder.

You startled, your mind and body jumping back into survival mode, gripping your sgian-dubh (small knife) close to your chest.

“It’s okay, mo phiuthar (my sister). It’s me, Torcall”, a raspy, masculine voice forced you to focus on the man in front of you.

He was your father’s most important tacksman and also husband to your older sister Mairead — your sweet Maisie, as you always called her. She was the eldest of the four siblings while you were the youngest. Always so witty and quick with a joke, Maisie kept up the spirits even when the circumstances were dire — in fact, before your paths had parted during the battle, she jested about your H-shaped shield being larger than you.

When you turned around, Torcall flattened his hands on your shoulders, slightly shaking you so you would come back to reality.

His blue eyes pierced through you, the situation becoming clearer in your mind. Thousands of your tribesmen were dead. Your father too.

“Maisie?”, you asked in a hush. Your heart clenched when your brother-in-law shook his head no. You were afraid to speak, but you did nonetheless. “Aodh and Somhairle?”

Torcall stared at you, his silence speaking loudly. “They are all dead.”

The air evacuated your lungs, feeling as if a spear had run through you. Learning about the death of Maisie and your twin brothers broke something within you, something fundamental and primal. They were your everything, your most trusted confidants. Despite being of different ages, you all were so tight-knit it was difficult to find one of you alone.

A heart-shattering wail escaped your lips as you bent over yourself, your chest snug against your knees.

Morrígan had unashamedly claimed most of your family that day, except for your beautiful mother. Now Her words made sense: you were yet to avenge them, to fulfil your purpose. She had spared you for a reason, not so you could pity yourself, knees deep in the mud.

To avenge them, you had to kill the hand who showered this tragedy upon you.

General Marcus Acacius.

A raven’s strident, gurgling croak forced you to look up to the skies — a subtle reminder that Morrígan was watching closely. The massive bird was circling above your heads, like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass. With resolution, you wiped away your tears, your sobs now silent, and nodded at Torcall.

“I understand. How many…?”, your voice faltered before you could finish your question.

“A couple of thousands. We have found cover in the Dunnottar Woods while we regroup and… bury our dead.” Torcall replied, his eyes averted with the last sentence.

You had lost a sister, but he had lost a wife, the mother to his now half-orphaned children. “I’m sorry”, you muttered, your lips pouting once more.

“She died fighting, the death of a warrior.” His proud voice did not waver. “And your father?”

Your heart wept at his mention but managed to control the anxious fluttering.

“The General killed him.” Your teeth gritted with hatred.

“Mo bana-phrionnsa (my princess)”, one of your father’s retinue members bowed his head to you once you walked into the circle they had formed in a meadow between the trees.

A few dozen men were scattered around the area, fires lighting the dark night while shades of red and orange flickered, creating fiery, dancing shades. You held a torch and carefully waved it in front of you, looking at the faces who watched you back eagerly.

You saw in your men what was brewing inside you: despair, defeat, sorrow. All your souls grieving in unison — all of you had lost someone that day.

At six and twenty, you did not expect to be in this position. You were the youngest daughter of the Overlord — you were never meant to lead your people. The task ahead of you felt titanic, unachievable.

But you had no other option. General Marcus Acacius had forced your hand.

He came, he saw, he conquered.

And now you had to deal with the gut-wrenching outcome of his departure.

“We’ll go back home to Inbhir Nis. But before that, we must give burial to our people.” You had to make a herculean effort to infuse your tone with steadiness.

Torcall first, and then the rest, bowed their heads to you.

“As you command, mo bana-phrionnsa”, he replied, and quickly barked orders around in your stead.

Your chest felt heavy with responsibility and grief. What pained you the most was not being able to carry your brothers and sister with you back home. They would not be buried under the cairns near you family home with the rest of your ancestors.

And what was worst — thousands of lives now depended on you. The weight of your tribe's destiny heavily rested on your shoulders now, like Atlas carrying the heavens.

Maisie, Aodh and Somhairle had been lined up on a patch of wildflowers that you had picked yourself the night prior — their arms were threaded together with your sister in the middle. Your clansmen had also surrounded the makeshift burial pit with wood to aid the combustion.

As you placed the last stone on top of them, you also deposited a bright, bloomed thistle. The flower that blossomed in every nook and cranny of your beautiful motherland, despite the harsh winter or conditions it faced. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes, it would always come back, stronger and more brightful than ever.

Devotion, bravery, determination, and strength — the thistle was a badge of honour for the Caledonians.

With a renewed brawn unbeknownst to you, you threw the lighted torch and watched as the fire consumed the bodies underneath the stones.

There were no tears left within you. Only purpose and resolution.

The way back to Inbhir Nis was tiring and soul-crushing. Hiking through the Cairngorms had been a difficult task with so many people behind you, but luckily you all managed to make it through without any losses.

With each mile covered, you saw the devastation left behind by the Romans. If this was any indication of what awaited ahead, you should start bracing yourself for what you would see. It seemed that the Romans were set towards the northwest — Inbhir Nis was right in their path.

You quickly recognised the landscape as you walked towards Loch Moy. A thick, dark column of smoke towered above the pine trees. Your heart raced as you picked up your dark green skirt and ran towards the loch, ignoring the calls of your brother-in-law.

You could run through those woods blindly — this was the land where you were born, the land you were named after. Your name was an unusual one — Caledonia, in honour of the earth beneath your rushing feet. Just a few people called you Callie, mainly your family and closest friends. With your bright, fiery red hair, green almond eyes and a face dotted with freckles, you were the epitome of your people. That was probably why when someone new learned your name, they always said it suited you.

Dodging the last few trees, you made it to the edge of the loch. In the shallows, the crannog of Naimh, your community’s healer, was burning down to its foundation. You covered your mouth with a sombre expression, your eyes itchy because of the dense smoke and unspent tears.

The Romans had gotten to your settlement before you did.

“Callie, wait up”, said Torcall behind you, struggling to catch up with you.

He halted right behind you, the silence between you was almost tangible.

“The rangers have returned from their reconnaissance mission.” His voice was plain, contained. You turned your heard towards him, slowly, hardening yourself for his next words. “Your mother is dead.”

The last glimmer of hope within you vanished. A single tear skidded through your cheek — angrily, you wiped it off.

You were alone in this world. Everyone you cared for had been taken from you.

“Is everything to your liking, Dominus (Master)?”, the male roman servant asked in a low hush, head bowed, eyes fixed on the cobblestone.

“Yes, now leave”, Marcus dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

The General looked around him with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. He was accustomed to much more elegant surroundings. Although the barbarians did try, their architecture was nothing in comparison to Rome’s.

The castle he was in was small and it only had two floors. It was mainly made of sturdy, grey rocks and dark wood. The design was not very sophisticated, all square and rugged edges. It had two towers and a barbican. The decoration inside was bare, with just enough furniture and no luxuries.

The only warmth was brought by the colourful tapestries adorning the cold, thick walls — one had caught Marcus' attention at his arrival when he first entered the dais. It told a story he had not heard before.

A dragon-like figure lurked beneath the rippling surface of a lake, attracting the attention of the villagers. At dusk it would emerge, a guttural sound echoing in the dead of night, as if it was calling another. Any bìrlinns (wooden vessel) left on the shore would appear destroyed the next morning. Fishermen were worried and called upon the town's druids, afraid of the Loch Ness monster. To appease the beast, every full moon, the druids would whorship the creature, bringing oblations and sacrificies to quench its thirst.

Marcus made a mental note of keeping his distance from that Loch Ness. As a devoted Roman, he was wary of the mystic creatures that skulked in the depths of human fear.

Although he missed his home, he had several debts to pay. The Emperor would not accept no for an answer, so he had to be a reluctant participant in this incursion — in fact, neither Domitian nor Agricola had really asked him to tame the highlanders up in Caledonia. They knew his skills would be most needed in combat, having been praised by bards and poets alike after his many years in the battlefield.

At eight and forty, Marcus Acacius had had his good share of tragedy and death, both personal and in war. His life had not been easy, having to forge a name of his own since childbirth and then having been recently betrayed by his own spouse.

The thought of Livia still angered him — she had had the audacity of blaming him for her infidelity, accusing him of always being away, of loving Rome more than his own family. Her cheating had been going on for as many years as their arranged marriage, throwing a doubtful shade on his paternity to both his children.

His life had come crumbling down in the last few months, so maybe coming to Britannia had not been such a bad idea. Female adultery was a crime penalised with death and that was a decision that Marcus had yet to make — outing Livia’s unfaithfulness would condemn her to Pluto's realm. Did he really want that for who had been his wife for more than thirty years?

Pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, Marcus walked towards the only window in the room. The roman took a deep breath and exhaled steadily — he needed to think of something else.

His mind went back to the battle of Mons Graupius. The spilling of blood never became easier with time — if anything, it had become harder, splintering his soul further. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the piercing, pained shriek of a woman as he imparted death on Murdoch of Inbhir Nis.

Her hair was dyed with black soot and tied back, her face covered in a blue paste and ash. He was too far to catch the colour of her eyes, but he thought them dark azure. The fierceness of her expression took him aback, her voice shouting a word he did not recognise. But his eyes did not have time to linger on the feral woman a few yards away, because a savage attacked him.

His hand stilled on the rocky window’s sill. The barbarians called this place Inbhir Nis. The stone castle was that of the chief’s family, atop of a hill with views to the scenery underneath. It was rudimentary and lacked many commodities — nothing comparable to his villa in Rome. The tribal settlement was formed of huts made of stone, timber and hay.

Agricola had decided to burn down the outskirts of the town and killed the wife of the clan chief making a macabre example of her, so the people would submit to the Roman’s yoke quickly, crushing any opportunity of rebellion. The message was clear: Rome would not tolerate being challenged. Anyone who did, would face the most painful of deaths. The governor left to go northward, leaving Marcus behind to rebuild the area to Rome’s standards. The emperor had deemed the location an important enclave for his empire, being the main town in the Moray Firth.

Marcus was standing in what he thought was the bedchamber of Murdoch. With the Overlord and his family alienated, the primitive people of the highlands needed educating and he had been given the task of doing so. Not a welcomed one, but he had a duty to Rome that had to be fulfilled.

With a heavy sigh, he undid the brooch at the base of his neck, relieving himself of the heavy, white sagum (cape) that was part of his attire. He threw it on the uncomfortable bed. He unfastened the golden, laurel-shaped bracelets around his wrists, and then proceeded to undo the tight knots that held his armour in place.

Then a knock on the thick, wooden door broke the silence of the room.

“Come in”, thinking it would be his male servant, he didn’t turn around.

“Dominus, dinner is ready”, a very soft voice with a very marked accent made him look over his shoulder.

A pair of very bright, almond-shaped, emerald-green eyes locked on his, framed by what he would describe as fire hair — so red it looked like a hellish aura crowning your head.

So bright were your eyes, he almost felt his soul being examined by your hypnotising gaze. Marcus had never seen eyes like those.

How dared he stand where your father did? Anger shimmered under your skin, but you kept it in check. When you realised you were holding his gaze for longer than what was appropriate for a servant girl, you averted your eyes, inspecting the stones under your feet.

Torcall called you mad for doing this, but you had made up your mind. If you really wanted to overthrow the Roman General and win back your family’s castle and land, you would need to sew yourself into his everyday life. Gain his trust, learn his secrets and use that information against him. Your people were counting on you for freedom, and you would not allow yourself to disappoint them. Even if it was the last thing you did.

“Who are you?”, his raspy voice filled the atmosphere as he resumed the task of undoing the ties on his armour.

Did he have no shame, undressing himself in front of a maid? Mind you, you were not an innocent servant, having been widowed recently. But still. The romans had no modesty, you assumed.

You had to think quickly. You had learnt that the governor and the general both thought the whole chief’s family dead, so you could not out yourself. A very few, selected people called you Callie, almost always in the intimacy of your home, when strangers were not around. Your nickname was precious to you because it was only used by those you loved.

“My name is Callie, Dominus”, you offered your nickname in a rusty Latin. It had been a while since you had to use a language that was not your native one.

“Callie.” The way your name rolled off his tongue gave you goosebumps. You didn’t like the way he pronounced it — it lingered in his mouth for too long, dragging each letter. You wished your words back, but you couldn't change it now.

Instead of clenching your jaw, you nodded. “Yes, my lord, I’m one of the servant girls who tended to the clan chief’s family before you.” You explained, your head still bowed.

You ventured your eyes up for a second, catching a glimpse of his naked torso. Unconsciously, you pursed your lips. The way your heart pounded loud for that one second made you furrow your brows in confusion.

He might be a gorgeous man, but he was a killer. And you had no taste for soulless murderers, that much you knew about yourself.

“Call my attendant, Atticus, to help me get ready for supper. I have no need of you. And ask the kitchen staff to heat some water and bring it up here.” His tone was emphatic, unwavering.

His rejection, in other circumstances, would have been most welcomed, but you needed him to trust you, to confide in you so you could plot his demise — to destroy him. This was not a good start to your plan, but you needed to play the long game.

“I could certainly help you with a bath now, Dominus, but your wish is my command.” You forced the words out, when in reality you wanted to spit them to his murderous face.

He just nodded in your direction, his movements stiff and measured. “Just my attendant will suffice, now go.”

With your fingers laced on your back, you curtsied, walking backwards towards the door of your father’s bedchamber. You could not seem too eager, or he would become suspicious.

When you were in the corridor with the door closed behind you, you took a deep breath and straightened your back.

You would not take no for an answer. Marcus Acacius would yield to you, whatever the cost.

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armthearmour · 17 days

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Arms and Armor of the Hallstatt Celts: A (not-so) Brief Overview

The Hallstatt culture is an archaeologically-defined material culture group. The typesite for this group is in Hallstatt, Austria, where a deep salt mine which had been in use since the Neolithic served as the lifeblood of the local community. A substantial cemetery of approximately 1,300 burials near the mine has helped to clearly define artistic trends associated with this cultural group. The culture is associated with early Celtic or proto-Celtic language speaking groups, and for a long time, was thought to have been the origin of the proto-celtic language. This idea has since been debunked, as it is now known the first proto-Celtic speakers predated the Hallstatt culture.

The Hallstatt culture is divided into four phases, A-D (henceforth abbreviated as Ha. A-D). The first two of these phases are associated with the end of the bronze age in the region, the last two, with the beginning of the iron age.

Since the defining of the culture in 1846, Hallstatt influence has been found from Eastern France to Hungary, as far south as Serbia and as far North as Poland. The core Hallstatt region covers much of Austria and Southern Germany. By the Ha. C period, distinct practices had arisen in the Hallstatt sphere of influence: distinct enough for academics to split the culture into two “zones”, the East and the West.

Unfortunately, due to the antiquity of this culture and the utter lack of any written records concerning them, the archaeological record is both relatively thin, and the only source of information available for these people. As such, in constructing a timeline of Hallstatt arms and armor, there will be substantial gaps which we can only hope will be filled by future discoveries.

Armor

Three types of armor are commonly found in Hallstatt contexts: belts, cuirasses, and helmets.

That broad belts (both of leather and of bronze) are considered armor in the ancient Mediterranean is clear from references in which these items are placed in context with other armor. In the Iliad, for example, in book 7 after Ajax and Hector meet on the field of battle and fight to a stalemate, they exchange equipment. Hector “gave over his silver-studded sword, bringing with it the sheath and well-cut baldric” (l. 303-304), while Ajax reciprocated with “his war-belt bright with crimson” (l. 305). Additionally, a short list of military equipment issued by the Neo-Assyrian empire recovered in Tel Halaf lists 10 leather belts alongside bows, swords, spears, and other arms and armor.

A number of bronze and gold belt plates survive from both the Eastern and Western zones, though most of these plates date to the Ha. D period.

While the majority of these plates are decorated with embossed and incised geometric patterns, some (particularly from the Eastern zone) include scenes of warriors on foot and on horseback.

The cuirasses of the Hallstatt period exhibit an interesting progression. In their most basic form, these bronze cuirasses remain essentially the same from Ha. A-D. They are characterized by essentially simple forms: a tubular breast and backplate which terminates at the waist and includes a tall standing collar to defend the neck. The earliest examples, however, include substantial embossed decoration in much the same manner as appears on the belt plates.

Only in the late Ha. B to early Ha. C period does this decoration begin to take on a more anatomical form; a group of seven cuirasses recovered in Marmesse, France in 1974 shows this evolution nicely. These cuirasses retain the same form, though a slight taper is now evident near the waist. The circular embossing closely resembles that of the previous period, however embossed lines are now apparent, and the placement of the embossing is such as to evoke the musculature of the warrior wearing it.

The final stage of the cuirasse’s evolution arrives in Ha. D. This form is much more plain, lacking the apparent horror vacui which typified earlier iterations of this style. Instead, the anatomical element is even more pronounced: embossing emphasizes the warrior’s pectoral and abdominal muscles, and additional circular bronze plates are riveted to the upper chest to simulate nipples.

The final element of armor with substantial enough evidence in a Hallstatt context to be addressed is the helmet. Unfortunately, surviving helmets are extremely scarce, and there is no pictorial evidence to consult prior to the Ha. D period.

Four helmet types appear both archaeologically and artistically in Hallstatt contexts. We will call these the crested, the plated, the double-crested, and the Negau.

Only one artistic example of the crested helmet is to be found, and no archaeological examples. It is to be found on a grave good in the shape of a wagon adorned with many figures made ca. 600 BC and recovered in Strettweg, Austria.

A find from Normandy (outside the Hallstatt sphere of influence) dated ca. 1200-700 BC shows what this type of helmet may have looked like.

The plated type is nearly as obscure, represented by only a single survival and a single artwork. The helmet, recovered in Šentvid, Slovenia and dated ca. 800-450 BC, is curious for the distinct pearly texture of its surface.

A number of similar helmets appear on a situla recovered from the Certosa Necropolis in modern Bologna, Italy. This situla is dated ca. 600 BC, and bears a striking resemblance to other situlae found in Hallstatt contexts.

The most well attested form of Hallstatt helmet is the double-crested type. This type appears with the onset of Ha. D, and sees use until the end of the Hallstatt period. It is attested to by several survivals

and numerous depictions on a number of situlae

and belt plates.

This type is so-called for the twin crests that adorn the helmet’s skull; crests which, as is attested by the pictorial evidence, served as anchors to large plumes likely made from horse hair.

The final type is named for a town in Slovenia where a large cache of helmets of this type was found in 1812. The Negau type appears at the very tail end of Ha. D, and primarily in Etruscan and Italic contexts. However a number of finds (including the eponymous horde) come from regions of Hallstatt (and eventually La Téne) influence.

Weapons

The weapons which can be found in Hallstatt contexts are very much the same as those found elsewhere in Europe, consisting primarily on spears, axes, swords, and daggers. The spears and axes of the period are very similar to those found elsewhere in Europe and across the Mediterranean in the late bronze to early iron age, and as such will not be discussed further.

Indeed, even the swords of the Hallstatt bronze age (Ha. A-B) bear no significant differences from other swords found in Central and Western Europe at the time.

It is not until Ha. C, and the advent of the iron age, when two new types unique to the culture emerge. Though similar, these sword types, called Gündlingen

and Mindelheim, are distinguished by a number of factors.

First and foremost is size, with Mindelheim swords averaging around 85 cm or 33.5 in in length, while the Gündlingen type only averages 70-75 cm (27.5-29.5 in). Another striking feature of the Mindelheim type which is almost non-existent on Gündlingen swords is a pair of deep grooves on either side of the blade. Additionally, Gündlingen swords are only ever found in bronze, while Mindelheim can be found in either bronze or iron. Gündlingen swords seem to have been tremendously greater in popularity, with only 27 examples of the Mindelheim type being known to over 240 of the Gündlingen. There is also a geographical element: the majority of Mindelheim swords have been found in the east from Austria to Germany, Poland, and as far north as Sweden. Gündlingen swords, by contrast, have mostly been found in the west, as far as Britain and Ireland. Neither type, however, can be found in the core Hallstatt Regions after the advent of Ha. D, when daggers become the primary funerary good of the elite.

Daggers, of course, were not unknown in Hallstatt regions prior to 620 BC. A number of survivals from Ha. A-B attest to the fact that single-edged daggers were popular.

With the advent of the iron age and the rise in popularity of the peculiar Hallstatt sword types, daggers become more rare, until once again they spring back to the fore in Ha. D. At this time, a particular dagger type is almost ubiquitous. This dagger has long, straight quillons mirrored by a tubular pommel. The grip is thin, and the blade is broad and double-edged. This same basic form is present, both plain and with various embellishments, until the end of the Hallstatt period.

#arms and armor #weapons #armor #ancient history #hallstatt culture #celts #iron age #art #history #ancient celts #sword #axe #dagger #spear

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hotdaemondtargaryen · 3 months

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GAYLE RANKIN TALKING ABOUT ALYS RIVERS IN EPISODE 4 OF 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' S2.

DID YOU READ THE ALYS RIVERS PORTIONS OF FIRE AND BLOOD?

"The first audition, I did not know who I was auditioning to play."

"I was auditioning to play 'AR.' And then I was kind of told who it was, and I was able to go into the book and read the portions, which are really fascinating."

"There’s so much hearsay and back and forth about Alys from so many different perspectives — mostly male perspectives, too — about who she is, what she is, where she comes from, what she’s going to do, and what she’s not going to do."

"It made me so excited."

BEYOND THE TEXT, DID YOU FIND INSPIRATION FROM ANYWHERE TO HELP CREATE YOUR VERSION OF ALYS?

"Absolutely. I’m from Scotland originally, so I really felt strongly that I wanted her to be Celtic, like Scottish, where I’m from generally."

"I found that to be really interesting because it was like this pagan aspect with that."

"The other option would be for her to be English, and there’s not that many Scottish characters."

"Beesbury was Scottish, but no one in the House Strong is Scottish, so what are we saying about her relationship to Harrenhal and being a member of the Strong household?"

"I enjoyed adding that part of my own heritage to the character because I thought it really helped with specificity in terms of the pagan aspect of her craft and also grounding her."

"It also made her more mysterious because it’s like, wait, where’s she from? It was like a jumping-off point, and Ryan [Condal] and everybody at HBO were really excited about me using my own accent."

"I think it gives her this unique power in some ways because she is untouchable and doesn’t have a familial lineage."

"It also makes her vulnerable, too, because she’s out there in Harrenhal on her own for years."

"What’s she been doing? Where did she come from? — I have a backstory as an actor."

"That’s kind of my process, and that huge part of it for me to really ground her and make her a real woman."

HOW WOULD YOU RANK HER POWER COMPARED TO THE DRAGONS AND WHAT SHE MIGHT BE HOLDING IN?

"I think what’s interesting, and if you’ve read the books, where Alys ends up is in a pretty powerful position."

"Prophecy is like the missing piece to take over the throne."

"Prophecy and magic and witchcraft and that kind of power have amazing brute force."

"Dragons are magical in their own way, but there’s something about being able to manipulate and understand and know things about the world."

"It’s kind of speaking to a bigger theme inside the story, which is that it’s an extremely female-centric power story."

"The fact that these women know things and know how to do things, and they aren’t being helped or respected, like Mysaria and Alicent and obviously Rhaenyra."

"These women know what they’re doing."

"They know, and Alys definitely has another kind of knowing."

"I think it’s cool to add that to the pot."

ALYS HAS ONLY INTERACTED WITH DAEMON SO FAR. WHAT DOES SHE WANT FROM HIM?

"I think as much as Alys is in charge, there’s also something bigger that’s at play."

"I think she knows that, and it kind of allows her, weirdly, to be with Daemon in this experience."

"I think we’re going to start to, hopefully, get to see them actually interact."

"As much as Alys has all this power, there are things about her that she wants and desires and has her eye toward."

"There’s a long game, I think, for this character."

"My interpretation and hope to get through is that she also has a human yearning and yearns for human connection."

"I think someone with a lot of power like that, who’s been alone for a long time, how is that going to play out when they get to spend time with a human being?"

SHE TOLD DAEMON THAT SHE'S "NO SO BAD" ONCE YOU GET TO KNOW HER. THAT WAS A REALLY HUMAN MOMENT IN THE MIDST OF THIS OTHERWORDLY EXPERIENCE AT HARRENHAL.

"She desires to be known, I think, and that’s really interesting that she desires to be known by the scariest motherfucker around."

"She’s kind of here for it."

"There’s something really progressive about that because the thing about Alys is she’s able to see something in Daemon that’s important to be seen."

"She’s fearless."

"I think when you wait around for 400 years, when you get an opportunity to get involved in your life for your purpose, which I think Daemon is a part of her life and her purpose, like, go for it."

"She’s going for it."

IN EPISODE 3, SHE TOLD DAEMON THAT HE'D "DIE" AT HARRENHAL. DID SHE SAY IT AS A WARNING OR JUST A FACT?

"I think it’s good that we’re asking that question because I think that exposes a lot about her."

"I don’t think she knows really how Daemon is going to play out in her life."

"As much as she knows everything, I don’t know if Alys knows everything, you know? I think there’s a learning happening with her, too."

"I think there’s warning, there’s fact, there’s empathy, there’s power dynamic playing out."

DO YOU THINK ALL OF HER POWER IS CONTAINED AT HARRENHAL? IS THAT SOMETHING YOU'VE THOUGHT ABOUT?

"I’m sure it’s something that she’s thought about."

"I think it’s something that she’s probably worried about and excited about and challenged by."

"I think that’s an exciting question for the show because, ultimately, it doesn’t seem like it is, but I don’t know if she knows that."

"I don’t know how that would change her."

WHAT CAN YOU TEASE ABOUT WHAT'S NEXT FOR ALYS REGARDING HER DYNAMIC WITH DAEMON? IT FEELS LIKE WE'RE AT A TIPPING POINT AFTER THE HALLUCINATIONS AND VISIONS.

"I think that’s what’s interesting is that there is a tipping point."

"What happens? How do power dynamics start to shift? — Hopefully, the audience will be hungry to see how we are going to start finding out more about Alys and there might be potential for that."

I WANTED TO POINT OUT THAT DAEMON JUST ACCEPTED THAT CUP OF WHATEVER ALYS WAS BREWING IN EPISODE 4, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. HE DIDN'T SEEM SCARED BY IT, AS IF THERE WAS A CERTAIN TRUST THERE.

"There’s something quite comforting about their dynamic."

"I think no one has ever challenged Daemon, and it’s interesting how Alys kind of flip flops between maternal energy and friend energy and kind of a little sexual tension, and any different kind of tools she has but also things that she wants to experiment with."

AEMOND AND ALYS HAVE A VERY PROMINENT RELATIONSHIP IN FIRE & BLOOD. IS THERE ANYTHING YOU CAN SAY ABOUT THEM POSSIBLY MEETING THIS SEASON?

"I can’t."

"I think my whole thing with talking about Alys and talking about the journey is I think patience is going to be a really… I think it’s going to pay off because I think all of these things are so informative of one another."

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s2 #tv shows #team green #team black #alys x aemond #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #alys rivers #gayle rankin #harrenhal #hotd spoilers #hotd s2 spoilers #fire and blood #matt smith #alys x daemon

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

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Probably won't have time to do many more of these for a bit because I'm off to Edinburgh shortly, but let's all have fun with a BIRD poll! And today we're going with the common sparrow (Passer domestics). I'm going with this one because, believe it or not, the hedge sparrow, despite being a related species that's extremely visually similar, has approximately seven billion names in Welsh and I only have ten poll entries. So here we go!

The etymology of some of these is VERY HARD and triggered quite the rabbit hole on my part so I hope you're all grateful

Sbrocsyn: if you chase it allllll the way back, you land on proto-indo-European spḗr, meaning... well. Sparrow. But in some subsequent languages it became starling (e.g. Dutch) and in one case crow (Breton), so I've translated it here as bird. The -syn ending gives it a cute little diminutive vibe

Aderyn y to: Wales used to go in for thatched roofs in a big way, and the sparrows liked to live in them

Aderyn llwyd y to: Someone was feeling descriptive and wordy

Cainc y to: Why?? Is it a branch??? This one is odd. Maybe referring to the roof beams?

Golfan: very hard to translate!!! It looks like the original is the Old Irish 'golbann', but it's impossible to find a confirmed etymology. Using my knowledge of Welsh and my miniscule memory of Irish, bright woman is the best I can do (geal + bean). But it has cognates in the other Celtic languages - gealbhann, gealbhonn, gialloon, golvan.

Strew: another difficult one, but this looks like a loanword from the same place as English straw and strew, referring to the grains of the crops. Which they eat.

Llwytyn: from llwyd, meaning grey, with the diminutive ending. They are mostly grey, 'tis true

Gwelltyn: from gwellt, meaning straw, with the diminutive ending. Another roof reference

***

Very interested to know if the extra notes make this one too easy. We shall find out together! Happy clicking

#who's that pwcamon #wales!#closed for cleaning on mondays #linguistics

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jewishvitya · 2 years

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Rowling had nothing to do with Legacy and I think most people forget that. She wasn't even consulted. WB bought the license and the devs did whatever they wanted. "Sirona" is a beautiful, feminine Celtic name associated with healing, and "Ryan" is an extremely common Irish surname. I feel like people are looking for reasons to be offended, especially when it comes to trans characters and antisemitism. The goblins are not and have never been Jewish stereotypes. They're a fictional race. They're based on Tolkien's goblins and old English folklore dating back to the 1400's, where they have always been depicted and small, ugly, and greedy. Rowling herself was shocked by the antisemitism rumors and staunchly stated they weren't true. Just like the rumors saying lycanthopy is a metaphor for AIDS. Just... who thinks of this stuff?

What's really sad is people have argued that Sirona was never meant to be trans, but a male character that the devs rendered to look "more feminine" at the last minute. People have made fun of her voice and said it's "too masculine", so obviously WB just hired a man to voice her and changed her gender later. But that's not true! Her VA is actually a trans woman and the backlash against the character must be devastating to the VA.

Okay, so, I don't think you're here in good faith. You're here to be dismissive. But I'll reply anyway, just in case I'm wrong.

One thing at a time.

I'll start with the one point you made that I agree with: the VA. She doesn't deserve to have her voice scrutinized and criticized. That's horrible, no one deserves that. I did see - and share - the misinformation that Sirona Ryan was voiced by a man, and I regret that. I edited it out of my post as soon as I knew, but this is tumblr and unedited versions do go around. I hope more people will see that corrected, and leave the VA's voice alone.

Now for the mess you threw at me.

Hogwarts Legacy is related to Rowling by virtue of existing within the world she created. It's still her goblins, since she gave her permission to create this, and she let it be added to the canon.

Rowling's world is the context.

I don't care that she wasn't consulted about the details, that just means the other creators are bigots too. When you build within a world that has such large issues, where so much time and effort was devoted to highlighting and criticizing those issues, and you create a story that continues all the problems from the original canon and adds to them - that's a choice that I have a right to criticize. They had the benefit of being a google search away from knowing how to be respectful about all of this, and they did the opposite.

Sirona Ryan IS a beautiful real name, that's not the issue. I already wrote this post where I tried to explain the reaction, but I accept that maybe my feelings about this name come from cultural ignorance. If that's the case, I apologize, and I'd love to be corrected.

My real issue with the game is the antisemitism.

You say "folklore dating back to the 1400's" as if that's far too old to be influenced by antisemitism. Fun fact: antisemitism is older than goblins. Antisemitism is literally millennia old. At least as old as Christianity, which is the root of many antisemitic ideas. It's older than many European mythological creatures, and it infuses a lot of European folklore and mythology, down to the depictions of witches with their pointy hats. Stories about goblins being used as a way to dehumanize Jewish people is not new. And using a fictional race of non-humans as stand-ins for real groups of marginalized people - either intentionally or not - is a very common practice in storytelling. Most fantasy races have those roots to them. But even then, where, in the original lore of the goblins, did they control the banks?

It doesn't matter if Rowling was shocked by the claims of antisemitism and it doesn't matter if she denied them. The reality of her story is that she created an antisemitic depiction. I can believe that it wasn't her intention, but that doesn't mean it's not what she did.

You don't get to look at an antagonistic group that embodies EVERY SINGLE TRAIT THAT WAS ASSIGNED TO MY PEOPLE TO DEMONIZE US and tell me that's not antisemitic.

I already made this list, but let's do it again. All antisemitic traits that can be found in Rowling's goblins. I'll break it down to the original book canon, the movies, and the game.

Books - Rowling's actual canon:

Short, with clever swarthy faces, sallow skin and pointed beards

A guttural language

Ruthless and known for their greed

Pursue someone who owes them money with violent threats

Have cultural differences that make them impossible to trust

Harmed by dark wizard but still suspected to support them

Only worth associating with for their metalworking and control of the economy

She placed a goblin's rebellion in 1612 - the same year as the events that led to the Fettmilch uprising, which resulted in pogroms and Jewish deaths. Rowling stated that wars and political unrest parallel between the muggle world and the wizarding world as the two societies influence each other

The most prominent named goblin character, Griphook, betrays Harry. Harry is a Christ allegory - literally sacrifices himself to save everyone, and then comes back to life

Movies:

Hooked noses - the best known antisemitic feature

A six pointed star in the building they chose for the bank - I don't believe this was intentional, but it's an unfortunate choice and they could have covered it

Here end the parts I blame on Rowling directly. And the game was built on these foundations.

Game:

A historical time frame of pogroms, where our people were murdered in large massacres that often had support from authorities

Explicit ties between the goblins and the dark wizards

Aiming to undermine wizard society - the goal assigned to us in every antisemitic conspiracy theory

Kidnapping of children for their magic - literally just look up blood libel

A character says the goblins can't appreciate art. It’s absurd to say considering the quality and coveted status of goblin-made artifacts. In the real world, this is a claim that was made against Jews by the Nazis (and it targets other groups hated by white supremacists as well)

A ram’s horn artifact that strongly resembles a silver plated Shofar - a Jewish ritual item. Said horn is from 1612, from the same rebellion mentioned above. According to the item’s description, it was blown to rally the goblins and to annoy witches and wizards. It was stuffed with gorgonzola to mute it, a specifically non-kosher cheese (most kinds of cheese are kosher). It's so disrespectful I still don't have the words to fully convey it

Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, those traits became associated with Jewish people as a group through hateful propaganda. Putting all of them on a non-human race isn't better. It just adds to the dehumanization of it. It's not just Rowling's fault. That's shared by every single person who had a hand in the creation of this story. For the issues in the game, I blame the people named here more. I see no reason to extend grace to far-right bigots.

But to focus on Rowling. You brought up lycanthropy. You seem to think we made up the idea that it's a metaphor for HIV. We didn't. She said that. In the ebook Short Stories From Hogwarts of Heroism, Hardship, and Dangerous Hobbies - she said that. She said it before that, on Pottermore.

Lupin's condition of lycanthropy (being a werewolf) was a metaphor for those illnesses that carry a stigma, like HIV and AIDS. [...] The wizarding community is as prone to hysteria and prejudice as the Muggle one, and the character of Lupin gave me a chance to examine those attitudes.

This is a quote of her thoughts. It still exists on Lupin's page on her Wizarding World website.

And it's actually a pretty good example of how it's absolutely possible to be awful about depicting a stigmatized minority through a fantasy stand-in.

HIV+ people are stigmatized through no fault of their own. But in her books, it seems reasonable for the wizards to fear werewolves. And she did that, she made prejudice reasonable. We have: Remus Lupin, a named werewolf who is good and kind, and tries to avoid hurting people. Even then, he nearly does cause harm more than once. He turns in front of our heroes and spends a night loose in the forest. He tells the heroes that as a student, he almost bit people while out with his friends. So even while well-intentioned, he's a danger. That means we don't have a single safe HIV+ allegory in her work. The other named werewolf is Fenrir Greyback, who intentionally targets children to turn them young and raise them to hate the society they came from - which is fucking homophobic, whatever she intended, because of the way HIV gets associated with homosexuality. And the rest? A whole community of werewolves who side with the Death Eaters.

Did she mean to make a whole community of marginalized people into wizard Nazis? I DON'T CARE. SHE DID THAT.

I don't care to argue about her intentions while writing the text. I can't read minds. I can read the text she wrote. I can see what was put into the game that was added into her world. I can read about the history of my people and their persecution. I can see how disturbingly similar this game's story is to the propaganda that led to my grandparents suffering through the holocaust and losing their families to it.

If she cared about the antisemitism in her works, she wouldn't just act horrified and say "No, of course I wasn't being hateful to Jews!" - she'd look at whatever she lets people put into her IP, to prevent further harm. I do blame the other writers of the game more than I blame her for that plot, but it's not better that she gave her approval without being consulted. It's her IP, it carries her name, she gets royalties, it's her responsibility.

And at the very least, she doesn't care about antisemitism enough to worry about minimizing harm. I know that, because I know her friends. I know TERFs and Gender Criticals. Rowling saw an anti-trans event with white supremacist speakers, and she chose to criticize the counter-protesters. She went out to eat with Maya Forstater and Helen Joyce, who participated and spoke in events organized by Posie Parker - who explicitly includes far right groups in her events, and shares platforms with white supremacists. Rowling bought merch from Posie Parker. She wrote about Magdalen Berns as a "brave young feminist" - as if she didn't push the antisemitic George Soros conspiracy theory and share Breitbart articles. She praised MATT WALSH. The people she associates with now, read from Mein Kampf in their rallies.

She didn't put the antisemitism in the game, but she's very comfortable with antisemitism. Don't tell me she was horrified by the idea that her goblins could be called antisemitic. She just didn't want the label applied to her. If you willingly associate with Nazis, you're a Nazi. And enough of her friends don't seem to mind that.

I stand by what I said: playing this game, even pirated, is like printing out an antisemitic caricature and hanging it on your wall, saying “well, I didn’t pay the artist, I just like this art.”

#riki babbles #hogwarts legacy #antisemitism #homophobia #JKR doesn't care about Jews #She just likes invoking the holocaust #HP #JKR

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cat-and-fox-hub · 4 months

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[Yōkai AU] Fiend & Menace

Made by Cat, aka Researcher Serif/AW

"I know I'm quite the catch but for you to look at me like that, you trying to tell me something, Master~? You don't need to look from so far, you're free see my true self as close and as often as you please~. Just know you aren't escaping me that easily~."

(The Kitsune no Mado, or "Fox Window", is a Japanese hand technique believed to reveal hidden Yōkai through your fingers as with above.

It's comparable to the Celtic hag-stone or adder stone, a stone found in riverbeds with a naturally formed hole which can reveal witches or faeries through it.)

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Sometimes, I really hate colors. I spent so long agonizing his color palette it ain't funny, I swear. At least I think I did better on colors this time. Not by much but decent enough... (lighting's hard)

Either wae, here's @cosmica-galaxy's Fiend and Menace! They're apart of my Yōkai AU, very much based/inspired on @twstedforyou's own original Yōkai Twisted Wonderland AU.

Below is some lore if you wanna know! I recommend reading up this post for further AU lore if you wish.

Do hope you enjoy either wae!

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For those who don't know what Yōkai are, "Yōkai are a class of supernatural entities and spirits in Japanese folklore."

They can range from your classic demon, in this case Oni, to objects gained spirit and sentience such as Kasa-Obake, a friendly and playful one eyed, one legged sentient umbrella.

So now that that's outta the way...

[Yōkai AU Lore]:

꧁ღ⊱ | Oni!Fiend |

Fiend is an Oni, a kind of yōkai, demon, orc, ogre, or troll in Japanese folklore. They're known to be big, terrifying and having great strength. They're also known for their violent and short temperaments with a hunger for humans and alcohol.

In this AU, since people are pretty much wiped out, skibidi's are the suitable replacement. While not as fun as human prey at times, there's something a bit more satisfying playing with them. (The answer is abundance and the fact no one cares about them. He can be as sadistic and cruel as long as he wants with his food, something he couldn't with humans to avoid getting caught with his pants down so to speak.)

Fiend is a young Oni, reflecting his canon self being a Gen 0 mimic born after the fall of humanity, but he's still quite older than a century at least.

Due to his experience and the fact that the Yōkai District is quite traditional, he's a bit different. A tad wiser and more eloquent in his words for one. Not that he chooses to be, preferring to be a bastard most times. He's still the tsundere little shit who gets turned on when you make the battlefield red with the blood of your enemies.

Due to his heritage, he's quite the alcoholic. Because of that, he's also quite a bit more aggressive with skibidis because there's just some types of alcohol exclusive to the human realm that isn't made or sold in his District.

In this AU, Yōkai can shift forms to disguise themselves as the most dominant species in the human realm via shapeshifting or illusions. For some more humanoid Yōkai like Yuuki-Onna, it shows in their true forms. The believability of a Yōkai's disguise vary between Yōkai and those with skills more inclined to disguise like Tanuki and Kitsune are better at it than most. Fiend has an unusual competence in the art for Oni, Yōkai known to be quite dog shit at their disguises, especially for one as young as him.

With his surprising competence in illusions and Menace being too young to create his own disguise, Fiend extends his own over Menace until he can learn for himself. It also means when his transformation goes, so does the tuggle's.

Before the War, Yōkai had the option of either human or mimic guises but considering mimics themselves mimicked humans, it was mostly human disguises. Now though, the option is either Alliance members or mimics who mimicked them. Fiend in particular chose the mimic option because it gave him more freedoms so to speak. Disguising himself as an Alliance member would've burden him with the role of acting like one which, as apart of a military operation, is a heavy one to play.

Fiend spent most of his time in the human realm. When the fall of humanity came, he was mostly wandering and hunting alone and only rarely going back into his District when bored. Despite the solitude of the empty cities, not even he knew why he stayed in the wasteland as a TV mimic as he did. At least, not until he met you.

In this AU, his meeting with you was much like his canon self. He decided you were interesting at first and pretty much stalked you. Though, he was much more… open, so to say, with his less than mortal nature. He didn't necessarily show off he was of an Other nature but he didn't necessarily bother with blending in too much. Humans are pretty much dead and gone and he only kept a thin veneer up for the Alliance to not get up all over his ass after all.

Let's just say it was quite a surprise when he confronted you for the first time and found out you were his beloved Master all along. (He did not let go for the next week, still closely shadowing you for the rest of the month after. Your presence— no, your existence is simply too much— too intoxicating— for him to simply ignore and leave be.)

Bonus! He'd never admit it but sometimes, he'd head over to his District and find baubles for you that he makes seem like they're old belongings he'd never touched and left to dust. He's always terribly smug when you like it and gloats it over the others with a smirk.

꧁ღ⊱ | Oni!Menace |

Menace is also an Oni, a very young one

He's pretty much canon Menace but more of a little shit with a nasty temper when really angry

Though, instead of the whole 'parents dying leaving bby orphaned', its more he was orphaned at birth

Unless a hybrid of sorts, Oni are traditionally born from the death of a horrible human's spirit which is why Oni, at their base nature, are cruel and violent. By using the dead spirit of a horrible human to bring them into existence, they're bound to take bits of the violent and cruel parts that make up said spirit. Luckily for Fiend and you, it's something that could be taught to be managed but anger is always something present that'll have to be managed for the rest of his life.

Despite being essentially a toddler, he still has the absurd strength Oni are known to have. He can easily carry you with no problem which is a bit troubling considering he likes get mischievous. Often with Byte at that...

He's also a a bit of a nipper considering human flesh is apart of the natural diet of Oni. He knows better than to harm, Spirits forbid consider you prey and eat you. Adopted Papa Fiend is hovering over his back with a critical eye after all.

Bonus! Menace, underestimating his own strength and your human constitution, had accidentally thrown you once. Luckily, it was at Fiend. Unluckily, it was at Fiend. Possessive shit extraordinaire. (Yōkai won't let any slight against their Master stand, kid or not. Someone boutta get their little ass cooked.)

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Check out my main blog: @researcher-serif

Here's my NSFW blog if that tickles your fancy: @grandfather-of-sin

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[Read under cut for those that can't see the image text or colored text]

Fiend: "Hmm...?"

Fiend: "Oh..."

Fiend: "I see~"

Fiend: "Ahuhu~"

Fiend: "How flattering~"

#do not repost #without permission at least #no art thieves allowed #mine art #reader insert #skibidi tag #skibidi mimic #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi toilet x reader #yokai au

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buggywiththefolkmagic · 1 year

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Informative Rant: Starseeds

What are starseeds?

Starseeds are a belief that one's soul is reincarnated into a human body but the soul itself belongs to an extraterrestrial being. It was introduced by Brad Steiger in his 1976 book Gods of Aquarius. Now Gods of Aquarius was a book compiled of 'confirmed' UFO sightings and recounts his own experience going 'out of time' with Sekhmet, who is really an alien...and responsible for all Greek deities, Celtic Fae, Doomsday Prophets, and most importantly, UFOs. See a bit of a problem already? I hope so! Keep with me though.

Steiger's other writings include books on werewolves, demons, Atlantis, Giants, general paranormal stuff, a entire book appropriating Indigenous beliefs as 'medicine men and the great journey', and pseudoscience based hypothesizes. None of which he gives any sources for. A lot of the modern belief in starseeds has veered a little from Steiger's own beliefs.

Now a days anyone interested in starseeds claim to be so because they are: Too empathetic, unable to handle large crowds or are too smart to perform daily tasks, easily forgetful, zones out, gets overwhelmed. Supposedly once 'awakened' usually done with age, puberty, or with a trance state given to you by someone (you likely paid for), you're told you are a alien princess/royal/warrior/archeologist/etc from some galaxy or planet. A lot of times whatever the person naturally enjoys becomes their 'mission' and a lot are told to just focus on that rather than the things that occur and are important in day to day life.

If some of these points sound familiar, and you think, "Wait isn't that some very normal mental health symptoms?" You would be correct. A lot of parents, desperate for a 'normal' child, or one that isn't 'broken' will cling to fringe theories like starseeds or indigo children in order to excuse away their child's quirks instead of help them with their issues. It's the same principal with the belief that you or a family member is a Changeling from the Fae. Which if you ask me is a classic example of child abuse via neglect of mental health.

Now some of these descriptions, such as the soul being from a UFO might also pick another part of your brain, asking "Hey didn't that Heaven's Gate Cult believe something similar?" Yes. They did. The major difference being that they thought extraterrestrials were the 'next evolutionary level' rather than the past itself.

I say all of that to say this: Please please do research into where something you believe comes from. Some beliefs are anything but healthy, starseeds are one of those beliefs in my personal opinion. Most people I have talked to who claim to be starseeds had no idea about the term or belief's origins. And frankly, it is embarrassing that such a large movement, which came from such a shady source, has become something factual through nothing else other than 'popularity'.

#witchblr #rant #starseeds #It's a load of bunk.#witchcraft #mental health #Do your research kids!

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robotpussy · 2 years

Text

i was just about to watch this video by Cheyenne Lin

youtube

Avatar and the Wh*te Imagination (or lack thereof)

about the limits of white imagination and how evident it is in the Avatar movies, and it just reminded me that james cameron worked with an ethnomusicologist, Dr Wanda Bryant, to make music for the na'vi because he wanted something that "would sound like nothing we’ve ever heard on earth" then he decided what was made was too otherworldly and decided that their music should just be what white people would call "alien" and ethnic, aka, whatever music exists in African, Asian and Native American cultures (and that was the final result).

Originally there were many influences coming from all over the globe, but when Cameron listened to the demos, he claimed it was too recognisable as well as too 'weird', albeit for white people and just pushed for a more 'down to earth' version. Avatar is evidence of the continuation of generalized exoticism and stereotyping still being a driving force in Hollywood

[IMAGE ID: A screenshot of a segment from the journal entry written by ethnomusicologist, Dr Bryant discussing the process of creating the music for the avatar films that reads:

"In our initial phone conversation, Horner asked me to find unusual musical sounds that “no one has heard before,” by which he really meant sounds not readily recognizable by the average American movie-goer as belonging to a specific culture, time period, or geographical location"

/END ID]

[IMAGE ID: A screenshot of a paragraph from the journal entry written by ethnomusicologist, Dr Bryant discussing the process of creating the music for the avatar films that reads:

"Through a process of elimination we came up with 25 workable possibilities, including examples of Swedish cattle herding calls, folk dance songs from the Naga people of Northeast India, Vietnamese and Chinese traditional work songs, greeting songs from Burundi, Celtic and Norwegian medieval laments, Central African vocal polyphony, Persian tahrir, microtonal works by Scelsi, the Finnish women’s group Vârttinä, personal songs from the Central Arctic Inuit, and brush dances from northern California. None was an exact blueprint of what we were seeking, but each had at least one interesting musical device or characteristic that we could utilize. In some cases, it was a timbre that we might hope to mimic; in other cases, it may have been a song structure, an ornamentational style, or interesting intonation."

/END ID]

[IMAGE ID: A screenshot of a paragraph from the journal entry written by ethnomusicologist, Dr Bryant discussing the process of creating the music for the avatar films that reads:

"Horner then met with Jim Cameron for his input on our musical ideas. Cameron is a very hands-on director and wants to be kept in the loop about all major decisions. Most of the ideas we presented were dismissed by Cameron out of hand, rejected with appropriately blue language as either too recognizable (“Oh, that’s Bulgarian”) or just “too fucking weird!” Half a dozen examples were approved as possibilities."

/END ID]

You can read the full article here:

There is also a video by sideways that discusses this (if you don't want to read):

youtube

#avatar #avatar 2 #sorry for the long post i just.... its the avatar hater in me #i hate this racist alien franchise so much #ref #text #film #i wasnt sure whether to put any of this under a cut #but i dont think this is too long ill have to see when it posts #Youtube #music

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rinwritingcorner · 2 months

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I have a really big issue with finding a name for my protagonist. she's from the ocean-like world where there's shore and ocean with sea creatures. please, if you have any suggestions on what names I can name her. please let me know. Also thank you for the tutorial on reedsy post!

Hello! It's totally understandable how you feel. It's always hard for me to think of good names that fit. Here are some names I found online while researching. Here are some of the best meanings associated with the names, along with their origins (hopefully accurate). Let me know if there's anything else I can assist with.

Thank you so much for your kind words about my tutorial for Reedsy book editor!

Mariana (Latin origin) - meaning "of the sea." This name is perfect for a protagonist who has a deep connection to the ocean, perhaps with a mysterious or profound nature.

Nerissa (Greek origin) - meaning "sea nymph." This name is fitting for a graceful and enchanting protagonist who embodies the beauty and allure of the sea.

Calypso (Greek origin) - meaning "she who hides." In Greek mythology, Calypso was a nymph who lived on an island. This name is suitable for a protagonist who is enigmatic, living in seclusion or hiding her true nature.

Oceana (Greek origin) - meaning "ocean." This name is ideal for a protagonist who represents the vastness, power, and depth of the ocean itself.

Neria (Hebrew origin) - meaning "candle" or "light." This name could symbolize a protagonist who brings light or hope, like a beacon guiding others through the darkness of the ocean. (Such a pretty name!)

Coralia (Greek origin) - meaning "coral." This name suits a protagonist with a vibrant and colorful personality or a strong connection to the underwater world of coral reefs.

Seldra (Old Norse origin) - meaning "sea queen." This name is appropriate for a protagonist who is a strong leader, ruling over a maritime kingdom or possessing a regal bearing.

Amphitrite (Greek origin) - meaning "third one who encircles the sea." In Greek mythology, Amphitrite was the wife of Poseidon. This name is fitting for a protagonist who is a powerful figure in the ocean realm.

Kairina (Hawaiian origin) - meaning "sea." This name is suitable for a protagonist with a strong connection to the ocean, possibly with a peaceful or calming presence.

Syrena (Latin origin) - meaning "mermaid." This name is perfect for a protagonist who embodies the grace, beauty, and mystery of mermaids. (Personal favorite!)

Thalassa (Greek origin) - meaning "sea." In Greek mythology, Thalassa was the primeval goddess of the sea. This name suits a protagonist who is ancient, wise, or all-encompassing like the sea itself.

Delphine (Greek origin) - meaning "dolphin." This name is fitting for a protagonist who is playful, intelligent, and swift like a dolphin.

Merillian (English origin) - a combination of "mer" (sea) and "lillian" (lily). This name represents a protagonist who is a delicate and beautiful flower thriving in the ocean. (Kind of made this up.)

Navissi (Latin origin) - meaning "ship." This name could represent a protagonist who is a skilled navigator or sailor, guiding others through the challenges of the ocean.

Brinamara (Celtic origin) - a combination of "brin" (sea) and "mara" (bitter). This name suits a protagonist with a complex personality, possibly with a tough exterior but a deep, emotional connection to the sea.

Hopefully these help!!!! 💜🟣^_^

-Rin T.

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

#thewriteadviceforwriters #creative writing #writer things #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #writerslife #writing

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sinfulspencer · 2 years

Text

Enchanting, enchanted

Prompt: Spencer didn’t think he’d meet Rossi’s niece on Mischief Night at his mansion. And he didn’t think she’d be into him anyway. (Spoiler: she is.)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: dom/sub undertones (sub!Spencer, softdom!Reader), adults with age gap (25/36), dirty talking, light degradation, hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving, implied male receiving), breeding kink, unprotected sex

Words:

A.N.: When October started, I had an idea: two Halloween fics with Spencer Reid being a submissive bitch and a dominant whore. @softreidx knows all about this - thank you for editing this piece. Love you.

Hope you enjoy this. x

Check my masterlist here.

Join my taglist here.

Send your requests here.

Read my guidelines here.

It’s not a secret Spencer Reid loves Halloween.

The cool thing about Halloween is that it's a uniquely American holiday. Despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian “All Saints’ Day”, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants' traditions and beliefs.

It became a little more commercialized in the 1950 with “trick-or-treat”.

Today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity.

He said those notions so many times to the rest of his team-mates and made sure everyone knew how much he loved Halloween.

Spencer follows Emily inside Rossi’s house. “People would light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. Isn’t that cool? How has fire always been a symbol of cleansing? Many people think of fire as an energetic reset button, a force that can burn through anything that no longer serves you or is there to help you!”

Emily takes off her long black coat, revealing a dark red dress she put on because apparently Rossi wanted to throw a masquerade party or something – Spencer was even more excited about that, because he put on his favourite costume.

An Edgar Allan Poe outfit that has been hidden in his closet since forever.

“Spencer, I appreciate your Halloween facts, but tonight I just want to have a drink and not think about ghosts.” – Emily tells him, patting him on the shoulder – “I promise you: tomorrow I’ll be all yours, you can tell me whatever you want.”

Spencer gives her a reassuring smile, nodding his head. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The rest of the team is already in Rossi’s backyard, no matter the low temperatures. Everyone is dressed up as monsters or book characters – Luke didn’t spend that much time thinking about his outfit, mainly because Roxy decided that his Frankenstein mask would be a delicious part of her dinner so he went with a simple vampire outfit.

Penelope, with her orange hair and pointy hat, is dressed up. Matt, with a lot of kids and a quite creative wife, ended up getting dressed as the Slender Man – long white sleeves with long white fingers, a tight black suit and that sparkly red tie around his neck.

Rossi didn’t dress up at all, no matter being the host who actually wanted this kind of party.. which bothered Spencer a little too much.

The young doctor, fixing the hat on top of his head, walks over to the owner of the house.

“Hey, why aren’t you dressed up? I thought we were going to have a Halloween party!”

Rossi looks at him up and down, crossing his arms to his chest. “Because I wouldn’t want to overshadow anyone, Spencer. You know my costume would be the best one here.”

Spencer can’t help, but chuckle at his colleague’s joke. “Ah, it’s a shame. I wanted to see your outfit!”

“Well, not today. I didn’t even come up with this dressed-up party anyway. My niece did.”

Spencer is puzzled. Did Rossi just admit he has a niece?

“Your niece?”

That’s the first time Rossi ever mentions the existence of a niece. At first Spencer thought he was talking about Joy’s children – maybe she had another baby! – but they’re not here, so it can’t be possible.

“Who mentioned me?”

Your voice echoes through the stairs as you climb down, making sure you don’t fall down on your own face. Your heels are high – they’re part of your outfit, which is why you’re not going to take them off unless it’s to go to bed.

However, you hate them right now. And you’re tempted to kick them away.

Spencer turns around and spots you, struggling to walk down while also holding the edge of your skirt so that you don’t trip on your own feet and the dress.

If he forgets how to breathe, it’s not a surprise.

You look absolutely breathtaking with your hair slightly pulled back, dark black makeup around your eyes and lips as red as blood.

Spencer doesn’t know what your outfit is about, but he doesn’t care; as long as he can admire you with it on, and hopefully without it on.

“Yes, niece. You.”

You hum, gripping David’s arm. “Oh, shut up. You told me that you were going to dress up but bailed on me last minute! And Krystall suggested throwing this party, I just sent the texts.”

Rossi rolls his eyes, patting your hand with a smile.

Spencer holds back a laugh, covering his mouth with his own hand. He doesn’t know who you are because he has never seen you before, but he’s definitely starting to like you or at least be slightly interested in you. You are so gorgeous, he’s not going to deny it, but you’re also incredibly bubbly.

And he has just seen you. What are you going to do to him in an hour? Or two?

“Young lady, you’re here because...”

“You missed me too much and you wanted me to come over to meet your team in hope I find myself a partner. I know!” – you exclaim, rolling your eyes before turning your head to look at the young man in front of you – “Ah, you must be Doctor Spencer Reid.”

David puts a hand on his forehead, shaking his head as he walks away. If he stays there, he’s going to witness Spencer melting into your bubbly personality – and he doesn’t really care about witnessing two people flirting with each other.

His plan is already working because he could see how Spencer kept staring at you. And you probably told Rossi that you might have looked up the cute Doctor in his team, which led him to make the decision to invite you over to his mansion to celebrate Halloween.

Maybe...

Maybe Dave’s plan was to actually get you and Spencer to like each other.

After all, he’s the only single in the team.

Luke is with Penelope, Matt is married just like JJ, Emily has a girlfriend and Tara is starting to reconcile with her ex girlfriend. They’re all taken but the young and pretty Doctor Reid – David thinks he’d be perfect for you.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor Reid.” - you say with a huge smile on your face, holding out your hand before pulling it back - “Ah, wait. You don’t like shaking hands. My bad.”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up as soon as your eyes meet. David has probably talked to you about him many times - and he had, which made Spencer seem so incredibly attractive and interesting to you.

Usually Spencer is much more nervous around pretty girls like you, but he’s dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe and it’s Halloween night. He feels different, a little more blunt than usual.

Or maybe not, because he keeps fidgeting with his hands.

“I didn’t catch your name, sorry.”

“Y/N. I’m Y/N.”

Spencer bows his head down for a second, taking off his hat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I feel like I should bow to you because of your outfit.”

You giggle.

Spencer’s heart drops in his chest. He made you giggle and that sound was so heavenly, as if a God came down from the sky and caressed his cheeks.

“It’s just a little something I whipped out in a hurry. Unfortunately they lost my luggage at the airport. I had to borrow Krystall’s clothes.” - you mumble, straightening your dark skirt - “They’re comfortable, though! I should dress up like this on a daily basis.”

“They didn’t steal your makeup, though.”

You shake your head, stepping down the last stair. “Exactly! I was so relieved. I’ve spent much more money on makeup than all my clothes. It would’ve been a disaster to lose my beauty bag.”

Spencer stares at you in silence, taking in all of the details of your beauty.

Perfect lips, perfect hair, perfect eye shape, perfect voice, perfect in general.

There’s nothing he doesn’t like about you and it’s weird because he has just met you, but he can’t keep his eyes off you. You don’t mind at all, you like being admired, and you’re definitely hoping Spencer will admire you much closer than this - and not in front of anybody else.

“Wow, everyone is dressed up.” - you whisper, glancing at the rest of David’s team in his backyard - “I can’t believe I was so convincing with that text.”

“You used David’s phone for real?”

You shrug, running your fingers through your hair. “I may have done that. I’ve never celebrated Mischief Night before, so this was my chance to do so. And here we are! Look! You’re dressed as Edgar Allan Poe, I’m dressed as Lilith!”

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but his whole body is reacting positively to your answer. You know who Poe is, you know that Spencer has dressed up like this, you wanted to celebrate Mischief Night - which means you like that holiday, and probably Halloween as well.

Maybe Spencer has found his soulmate.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Spencer blinks, focusing on your face again. “Huh? Sorry, I was…”

You give him a smile, pointing to the backyard. “Let’s just go, I’m hungry and I want to show off my makeup. I didn’t spend two hours putting this makeup on just to stay locked inside of a room. I need to show it off!”

Each time you move around the living room, either to fill your glass with wine or have a smoke with David in his backyard, Spencer has his eyes on you. No one can blame him because you are absolutely adorable, with all of your interesting and fun anecdotes on your holidays in the Rossi’s mansion with Krystal, Joy and her son.

No one was expecting Rossi to have a “found niece” at all, if they had to be honest.

However you are a beautiful surprise and David is happy that he has finally introduced you to his whole team, because he could see how ecstatic and at ease you were for the whole dinner. You tried your best not to ask them what was the most wicked and naughty thing they saw while working on a case – you were hoping to have this discussion during another moment of the night, and not while you were eating, but you were too excited.

As JJ and Luke spoke about the last most gruesome case, Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole time. You looked like you were having so much fun hearing about Emily or David being disgusted in front of remains or blood, because you never thought David was this sensitive over bodily fluids.

Either way, you listened to every single person in the team speaking about their most disgusting moment over the years and you laughed each time with all of them.

You felt like you were a part of this team, as if you knew them for your whole life.

It’s not easy to find people like these, people you can connect with in the blink of an eye. You feel proud of yourself for convincing David to throw this little party, because now you feel incredible.

Maybe it’s the wine...

Anyway, it doesn’t matter.

Penelope has already given you her number, which means you’ll get to hang out with her and gossip every single time about who-knows-what. Luke has found out that you are a dog lover, which means you’ll get to spend a few dinners at his place to play with Roxy and take her out for a walk whenever Luke will ask you to.

And since you love cats as well, Penelope will let you play with Sergio.

Spencer didn’t speak much throughout the dinner. You were expecting him to spit out more interesting facts about every single person’s costume at this table, but he kept his mouth shut and listened to the others talking.

At first you thought it was because of your presence right there at the table, but then Penelope kicked you with her shoes without the others seeing, and you noticed Spencer staring at you as if he was about to eat you.

You’d probably let him.

Before the whole party started, you were getting ready in the bathroom of the guest room when David came by to ask you how you were doing. You showed you all your makeup as he sat on the edge of the bed and you blabbed about how nervous you were to meet his colleagues, but also how excited you were to finally see Doctor Reid.

When David talked about him for the first time, you couldn’t believe a person like that could exist: a lover of nature and books, obsessed with coffee, graduated to a bunch of different things (you don’t know how he managed to study such a disgusting subject as physics!), a professor.

David talked about Spencer as if he was his son, with such a tenderness and kindness that he has shown to you over the years. You and Spencer were like his children, David loves both of you so dearly.

Which is exactly the reason why he thought it was a good idea for you to meet Spencer.

David didn’t tell you that he was planning on making you meet him because he wanted you to be with him, but he didn’t need to say that. He thought you’d be the perfect match for Spencer: no matter your hate for physics, you had a lot of things in common.

Both of you love books.

Both of you are professors.

Both of you are obsessed with Nature.

Both of you have a very dark apartment with books everywhere.

Both of you go stargazing whenever you can.

Both of you spend hours inside of a library just staring at books in order to pick one to take home.

Both of you love lavender scent candles or incense.

Both of you are quiet, but extremely endearing and adorable.

However, you’re an extrovert and Spencer is an introvert. You’re louder and you love going outside to meet new people no matter your quietness, while Spencer would rather stay at home and watch a Russian movie than meeting others.

It’s not like David wanted to change Spencer, absolutely not. He just thought you’d be his better half in a way to complete him, somehow. Everything he doesn’t have, you do. Everything you don’t have, he does.

It’s like the last two pieces of the same puzzle fitting together.

You didn’t know David’s plan at first, but you realised it as soon as you walked down the stairs to meet Spencer Reid’s chocolate eyes. You knew he was going to come over, which is why you made sure to be extra-perfect for the party, but you never thought you’d catch his eyes looking at you or your body the whole night.

Spencer doesn’t know that you were looking at him in the same exact way, with probably the same exact purpose: you want him more than anything and you’re determined to have him. It doesn’t matter where or when, you know you’ll have him however you want and wherever you want.

Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow but you will someday.

“Why did you convince Dave to throw a little party the day before Halloween?”

Spencer’s smooth voice captures your attention, forcing you to turn around. You’re met with a pair of chocolate eyes that leave you completely breathless: he looks so fucking hot like this, with the first three buttons of his white shirt completely opened and the hat long forgotten.

His unruly curls look so soft, you wonder how it would feel to run your fingers through them.

He’s lingering on the doorstep, watching the grey smoke from your cigarette vanishing into thin air. You shrug with a little smile over your lips, putting your free hand over your hip.

“It’s Mischief Night, Spencer!”

His eyes brighten up. “You know what it is?”

You widen your eyes, nodding. “Of course I do! I don’t really celebrate it, but I thought it’d be nice to switch things up for me.”

“Did you know that the term ‘Mischief Night’ was first used in Britain and not here in the US? It didn’t mean October 30, it was actually the day before May Day. – Spencer explains, taking a step further and closing the door behind his back – Young people played practical jokes, such as switching shop signs, overturning water tubs and trapping people inside their houses.”

You let out a low chuckle, inhaling through your cigarette before blowing the grey smoke out. “That’s very interesting, Spencer. I used to play pranks on people all the time when I was a child. It wasn’t really a tradition for me, I thought it was normal because all the kids in my neighbourhood would do it.”

His eyes are not leaving yours. “Pranks?”

“Hm, yes. I used to throw eggs at my neighbour’s car, even though that wasn’t really a prank. I hated that man with every fibre in my body because his kid stole my dolls. I had to get back at him somehow, but then his kid moved away while the neighbour stayed behind.”

“Ouch, that’s pretty sad.” – the young doctor mumbles, pointing to the chair underneath the gazebo – How about we sit there?”

You don’t answer him, simply walking through the plastic curtains before sitting down on one of the chairs that were previously occupied by you and David.

“I wasn’t really nice at the time, it’s long gone.”

“I bet you’re not nice either now.”

You raise your brow, smirking. “Oh, I’m definitely still a bad girl.”

Spencer chuckles, shaking his head. He got you exactly where he was hoping to get you, but he doesn’t know that you’re a much better player than him.

When you want someone, you get them. And you get them begging, whining, moaning, panting, withering underneath you until they’re a weak, pathetic little mess that you love to play with.

You’re excited to see how Spencer will be by the end of the night, if something happens.

“Can’t wait to see that, honestly.”

His words throw you off track because you were not expecting them, and when you turn your head to look at him, you realise that he wasn’t expecting them either. His eyes are widened and his mouth is slightly opened, while his right hand is ready to cover it. You don’t know if he said that and now he’s acting weird because he wants to see your reaction or because he’s really shocked by his own behaviour, but you’re definitely amused.

Ah, this cute little man will be the death of you. You can’t wait.

“So eager to have me in your bed, aren’t you?” you roll your eyes

As much as you’re amused and you’re curious to see what he’s going to do, you want to push him just a little bit. Teasing someone and then leaving them hanging is the best, especially if you get to see their shocked expression on their face as you walk away while they need to cover their little problem.

Tonight you feel nice, though, so maybe you will help this someone with his problem.

“I, uh... I’m sure your bed is much more comfortable than mine.”

You crush the butt of your cigarette inside the ashtray. “Should we try it so we can compare them?”

You can see Spencer gulping, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s trying to understand whether you’re joking or not. You were just teasing him – or maybe not. Definitely not, because you’re quite curious to see how he’d react with your legs spread open just for him and your fingers playing with yourself while waiting for him. After all, you’re a Goddess tonight – which means he will need to worship you, kiss every inch of you and savour the taste of your skin.

“Or we can stay here and look each other in the eyes until someone gives in.”

You put your right hand underneath your chin and lean forward, staring into those beautiful eyes that immediately look away from you. You don’t know if he pulled away because you made him uncomfortable by being so close to him or by your words; either way, you feel bad because this wasn’t your intention. You were just playing, but maybe you played too rough with him.

After all, he’s the “baby genius” of the group – as David always said.

You wonder if Spencer could give you a baby genius.

The thought makes you smile.

“The others will hear me.”

His answer comes as quickly as the quick movements of your eyes on his face. Spencer is thinking about your proposition, which makes you squeeze your legs together.

“They won’t if I keep that sweet little mouth of yours occupied, don’t you think?”

Spencer struggles to look you in the eyes, terrified that you might see the desire flashing behind his and going straight to his groin. He has been trying to hide that little problem for the past hour. He thought that coming out here and talking to you innocently would’ve helped him stop thinking about you riding him, but it didn’t. Nothing helped.

“Do I have a sweet little mouth?”

You hum, chuckling at his blushing cheeks. “Of course you do. You have the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen. I bet they’re soft, too.”

Spencer lowers his eyes, blushing even more at your compliments. How can he react like this just because of a few words? You haven’t even touched him or told him how you’re going to want him to touch you, and he’s like this?

Hard and needy?

You find him adorable, but pathetic as well.

You’re going to break this boy down piece by piece and you’ll love it.

“I’m not going to kiss you right now because I probably won’t be able to stop.” – you mumble, placing a hand over his knee – “I’ll tell David I’m not feeling too well. You know where the guest room is.”

You stand up before he could open his mouth to answer you and you leave him outside, gently approaching your uncle. Placing your hands on his shoulder, you wait until he finishes talking about the last time he went to Italy and ended up taking the wrong train, with no money, no clean clothes.

You’ve heard that story so many times and it’s still so funny, because you were right there with him. You were the other person that lost their luggage on holiday and ended up having to buy everything inside of a supermarket, along with Krystall.

It was weird, but so worth it.

When David is done talking, you tap him on the shoulder and you lean forward. You whisper in his ear that you feel a bit lightheaded because of all the alcohol you have drank the whole night. He touches your hand, looking at you worried.

“I’m sorry, pumpkin. Do you need me to do something? Do you have your medicine?”

You nod your head, smiling softly. “Yes, thank you. I’ll come back when I feel better.”

Kissing his forehead, you tap his shoulders again and then you apologise to the rest of the guests, excusing yourself out of the room.

You don’t like to interrupt a party to announce that you’re not feeling well, especially if it’s a lie, but you’re not going to turn the chance of having Spencer all over you down. It’s what you’ve been waiting for since you saw him at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you as if you were the most precious creation on Earth.

David glances at Spencer stepping inside the living room with his cheeks totally flushed and his eyes down on the floor. He doesn’t know what happened outside and, honestly, he doesn’t want to know, but he could see how you affected Spencer.

You weren’t the only one who noticed his hungry eyes on you the whole time.

The rest of the team, especially Penelope and David, did.

“Hey kid, are you alright?” Luke calls out

Spencer clears his throat, facing the rest of his team. “Hm? Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I was just looking for some, uh, water. I’m thirsty.”

Penelope holds back a laugh when David glares at her.

There’s no need to embarrass Spencer any further because he’ll be done as soon as he not-so-subtly asks if he can use the bathroom upstairs.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass of wine?” Emily asks

Spencer shakes his head, heading to the kitchen. “No, I’m good with water. Thank you.”

Luke takes a sip of his wine, leaning against the chair. “What’s going on?”

Spencer ignores his question, opening the fridge inside the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He needs it because his mouth is so dry due to his nerves. He knows he’s acting weird and the rest of the team probably understood what’s actually going on, while you don’t have a clue.

Upstairs, you’re taking off your shoes.

You wonder what Spencer has told the team to cause this silence and you start to get nervous, because maybe you shouldn’t have been so eager to have Spencer with you. You don’t want anybody to know what’s going to happen in your bedroom if he shows up, so you hope Spencer doesn’t mess things up for you.

You don’t really want David to give you the “you can’t have sex with my colleagues in my house” talk, even though he’ll probably say something tomorrow morning – or in the next few days you’ll stay right there.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Startled by the sound coming from the door, you almost drop your phone on the floor, but you manage to put it on your nightstand. It’s incredible how fast he was, but you don’t blame him: you’re as eager as him.

Straightening the skirt of your black dress, you head to the door. You hoped you’d have enough time to undress.

You open the door.

“Hi.”

Spencer stands in front of you, his eyes not leaving yours. “Hey.”

You grab him by the red tie around his neck, pulling him inside of your bedroom. He closes the door behind his back and his mouth immediately covers yours, making you stumble as you try to get back over to your bed.

Okay, you were definitely not expecting Spencer to be like this.

You were not expecting him to kiss you as soon as you opened the door, but you don’t complain. You wanted to do this when you were outside on the patio, so you’re grateful he has made the first move.

His hands slide down over to your thighs, gripping them as you gasp against his lips.

“We have to be quick, I told them I was going to the bathroom.”

You nod without interrupting the kiss, biting his bottom lip. You will be as quick as you can, hopefully he’ll be as well – you’re not sure if you’re going to have enough time to actually have sex with him right now, but there’s no rush.

“Then, let’s get to it.”

Spencer gets on his knees almost immediately, not giving you the time to enjoy the last kiss he gave you. The sight in front of you is just as hot as you thought it would be.

“Don’t make a sound.”

You roll your eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So bossy.”

His eyes widen at your words, biting his bottom lip. He didn’t mean to make you mad – he’s terrified of you not giving him what he craves the most.

“I’m not, I just... don’t want the others to know what I’m doing.”

You run your fingers through his hair, gripping his curls. “They won’t, but put that mouth to use so it’ll be occupied.”

Spencer looks up at you for a few seconds, his lips parting as you speak to him in a tone of voice that sends shivers down his spine. You can feel and see the flashes of desire behind those beautiful lustful eyes, it’s incredibly hot.

“Go ahead, gorgeous. I’m waiting.”

His fingers slip underneath the skirt of your dress, exploring the soft skin of your thighs. You bite your bottom lip, staring at him as he makes his way under your dress to leave a trace of kisses from your knee up to your thighs.

You raise your leg and put it over his shoulders, keeping your right hand through his soft curls as you tug on them. You knew the sight was going to be delicious as soon as you met him, but this was incredibly hot – even hotter than before, when he was staring at you as if you were a painting.

Spencer is trying his best to not make a single sound, his mouth busy to kiss and worship your thighs.

You can’t really see his face from where you’re sitting so you lift your skirt, just enough to spot those beautiful pairs of eyes staring back at you.

“Hi.”

Spencer leaves another kiss on your inner thigh. “Hello Y/N.”

“Looking good over there.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers hooking up your panties before sliding them down your legs. You kick them away as soon as they reach your calves and you spread your legs, biting your bottom lip.

“Beautiful. Just as I thought.”

Blushing because of his compliments, you raise an eyebrow. “You thought about me like this?”

“Through the whole dinner.”

Spencer kisses down your inner thighs again, the gentle brush of his stubble against your skin setting it on fire. You know that your thighs will be covered in little nicks by tomorrow morning, but if this is the price to pay... you’re more than willing to spread your legs for him.

“You must have an incredible imagination, Doctor Reid.”

He worships you with his tongue, tracing it up to your inner thigh before sliding it over your clit. The sound that leaves your mouth will be forever imprinted in his mind, replaying over and over each time he’ll think about you.

“Fuck. An incredible tongue, too.” – you struggle to whisper, running your fingers through his curls before tugging on them – “Don’t stop.”

Spencer doesn’t plan to, closing his eyes and allowing his tongue to caress every inch of you and taste the sweetness of your heat. With his head buried between your thighs and your hands pulling his hair, Spencer thinks he just landed in Heaven – or where things are so perfect, a place he doesn’t want to run away from.

Normally, he would keep eye-contact with the person he’s ravishing, but today he knows he can’t do that. You probably wouldn’t mind, but Spencer wouldn’t be able to last at all – your eyes are magnetic.

It’s not even about the colour or the shape, it’s about the desire flashing behind them.

It’s a combination between your attitude, your confidence, your words... a dangerous mix that makes Spencer high alert on everything you do and say.

If he looks at you, he will come untouched. That’s it.

He can’t have that, he doesn’t want to disappoint you and no matter how quick his refractory period is, he doesn’t want to wait. He needs to be inside of you, he needs to orgasm because you want him to, he desperately craves to obey each one of your orders and watch you come undone before doing it himself.

Spencer wraps his lips around your clit, sucking it gently before you grip his hair. He knows you’re holding back those moans – the first one betrayed you, slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it. He wishes he’d be in another bedroom, maybe his; in another house, maybe his.

So you could be loud. So loud his neighbours would knock at his door and beg him to keep it quiet, which would make you and him way louder than you should be.

“Keep your eyes on me, Doctor Reid.” – you whisper, desire oozing from your voice as you move your hips against his face – “I want you to look at me while you eat me out.”

Spencer suppresses a frustrated whine, struggling to open his eyes, but managing to do as you wished. He doesn’t want to look at you, he doesn’t need you to see him completely wrecked just because of your salty taste.

You push a second pillow underneath your head, propping it high just enough so you can admire the amazing work Spencer is doing between your legs. And when you meet those chocolate eyes, you notice something strange.

His left hand is not on the bed.

“What are you doing with that hand, Doctor?”

Spencer stops his movements, pressing a soft kiss right above your clit in hope to distract you from the question you asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

You raise your brow. “Are you touching yourself?”

Spencer doesn’t answer your question, burying his face between your legs again. His tongue delves deeper inside of you, making you shudder at the sensation. Your hands immediately fly right behind his head, pushing him right there where you want him the most.

He knew he was going to distract you.

He hoped so.

“You dirty little slut.” – you manage to speak, your voice broken by the pleasure amplifying more and more through your body – “Does this turn you on, Spencer? Are you hard because you’re eating me out?”

Spencer tightens his grip at the base of his cock, moving his hips slightly forward with his eyes still settled on your face. The hum he gives you in response to your question tells you that yes, he’s indeed turned on by all of this.

You don’t blame him.

Oral sex is one of the best act you could ever give or receive.

“Don’t stop.”

Spencer closes his eyes and savours your taste, gripping your thigh with his left hand and pushing your lower body towards his. You can feel yourself ready to topple over the edge, the pleasure tightening in your stomach as soon as his tongue slides up and down your clit.

You gasp and whimper at his movements, enjoying the wet sounds of his mouth devouring you.

“Spencer..”

You feel the tension snapping within you as you come, gripping his curls and tugging them even harder. Your back is arched and you don’t know for how long you’re going to be able to stay quiet, because this feels too fucking good.

Spencer doesn’t budge at your movements, his tongue relentlessly touching you, stimulating you to the point you can barely breathe.

Every cell in your body is on fire.

Then everything stops.

Spencer pulls away with his mouth and gets up on his feet, using his wet hand to touch himself. You’re dizzy and your legs are shaking because of the pleasure that ran through you, but as soon as you see him moving, you move.

“Do you want to come inside of me, darling?”

Spencer’s eyes snap wide open, staring at you with his parted lips. “Y-Yes.”

“Then fuck me.” - you mumble, gripping his tie - “Fuck me, but be quick. You don’t want the others to know what you’re doing, do you?”

He shakes his head, stroking his cock. “I don’t care.”

You giggle, sitting back up with your legs wide open. “Oh, you don’t? Do you want them to know how naughty you are? How hard are you because you ate my pussy?”

Spencer whines at your words, struggling to keep his eyes on you. “I… Please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“I don’t..” - he bites his bottom lip, pushing the head of his cock against your clit - “I can’t fuck you, I don’t have condoms.”

“Are you clean?”

You’ve never seen such a greedy man in front of you, silently begging you to let him fuck you and just come inside of you. Spencer looks incredibly beautiful, bent over towards you with his lips slightly parted and his right hand stroking his cock.

You feel your mouth water at the sight.

You lean forward, placing a hand underneath his. Spencer gasps.

“Yes! Yes, I’m clean.”

He’s so embarrassingly desperate.

“I’m clean as well.” - you tell him, grabbing his left hand - “Come on, fuck me.”

Spencer obeys, immediately pushing his length inside of you. His eyes close and he throws his head back, a soft moan echoing through the room as he finally feels the warmth of your walls tightening around him.

He didn’t even wait for you to be ready, he just wanted to get inside of you as quickly as possible.

So eager, so desperate.

It turns you on more than it should.

Spencer is glad you let him fuck you, because he wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. Waiting wouldn’t have been that merciful, now that you think about it.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Spencer moves his hips, lifting yours just enough to allow his cock to slide even deeper inside of you. You take all of him, adjusting to his size as you grip the bed sheets all around you.

“Fuck me, Spencer.”

He blinks, putting his hands underneath your thighs. He pushes your body closer to his, forcing you to close your legs around his waist. He doesn’t lift your whole body off the bed, but he lifts your hips.

And when the angle changes, you swear you’re in Heaven.

Spencer starts thrusting inside of you, his eyes never leaving your face because he wants to see you break down all over again. He needs to see you in pure bliss, he wants to push you off that edge again because that was the hottest thing he has ever seen in his whole life.

He didn’t think you’d let him fuck you right now.

He’ll forever be grateful for that.

“C-Close.”

You feel delicious all around him, tight enough. Spencer will dream about this for days, for weeks, for months - or until the next time he’ll be able to have you like this again.

He hopes it will be very soon.

You run your fingers through his hair, grabbing him by the tie with your other hand in order to have him closer. Spencer whines against your lips, kissing them feverishly.

“Come for me, darling.” - you whisper, the pleasure building rapidly behind your belly button again - “I want you to come inside of me, please. I need it so badly.”

You don’t know if what you’re saying makes sense, you’re too lost in your own pleasure and in the beauty of the man on top of you. The whole world stops as soon as his hands hold you down against the mattress, pinning you to the bed and preventing you from wiggling away.

You can’t do anything besides take all of him inside of you.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

Spencer doesn’t need to be told twice, feeling his tension getting tighter and tighter until it snaps, quick and hard. And he comes, painting your walls with his cum just as you follow off the cliff of pleasure with him.

It was quick, it was rough, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Spencer nurses your orgasm with slow thrust, riding his peak as well. Enjoying the tightness of your body all around him, he forces himself to keep his mouth shut when all he wants to do is praise you for being so fucking perfect.

He wants to do this all over again, until you can’t do anything but moan his name.

You’re still shaking because of your orgasm as Spencer collapses on top of you, his mouth attaching to your neck to nibble on it. You can feel his cock twitch inside of you and you wonder what Spencer would do if he saw the mess he has made between your legs.

It would be fun to force him to clean it up.

However, you can’t. Not now, at least.

He got hard because he ate you out, he’d probably get hard again. As much as you’re dying to have him in your mouth, you have to wait until the party's over and you can sneak out of your room to head to Spencer’s place.

Or his car.

You don’t care where you can have him again.

“Good boy, you did so good.” - you mutter in his ear, caressing his curls - “You’re incredible, Spence.”

He doesn’t want to pull away and pull out, he wants to be between your legs for the rest of the night. You feel too good right there, underneath his body with your hands touching him and caressing him.

And you smell so good.

“Thank you. You were so perfect.” - he starts to say - “So, so perfect… Wish I could have you every single day. Fuck, you felt so good.”

He keeps whispering praises to you, how much he loved fucking you and eating you out. You can see how relaxed he is now and you wonder if he’s alright, because you’ve never had someone be so dependent on you after sex.

It’s… interesting.

And fascinating.

“Thank you, darling.” - you tell him, tapping his chin - “Pull out now.”

Spencer obeys your order, immediately taking a step back and pulling out of your body. His come, mixed with your own arousal, drips out of your body, pooling right underneath you.

The sight makes him lick his bottom lip.

“Later, okay?” - you tell him, placing a hand between your legs - “Now go downstairs, yeah?”

Spencer lingers right in front of you for a whole good minute, staring at the mess he has made right between your legs. It’s incredible how just the sight gets him immediately on his knees, but you’re quicker than him.

You snap your fingers and you grab his arm, pushing him back up. “No. Not now, later. Wait for me in your car when all the others will leave, okay? I will find a way to sneak out.”

The young doctor stares at you before grabbing you by the face, immediately attacking his lips to yours. You close your eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck, standing up from the bed and feeling his come dripping down your thighs.

You hope he’s going to make another mess later.

“Okay, okay.” - Spencer says, sliding his hand down to your thighs - “I’ll wait for you.”

You don’t want to pull away from him, but you have to.

Walking him to the door, with your skirt completely raised up to your hip, you give him another peck on the lips. Spencer lingers again with his mouth on yours before opening the door, forcing you to take a step back.

You don’t want the others to see you.

“Clean up your face, darling. You look like someone who just ate some good pussy.”

You wink at him, pushing him out of the door.

It’s true, he had the chance to taste you and now he won’t think about anything else.

He should, because as soon as he gets down to the living room, everyone is looking at him.

Spencer washed his face and fixed his tie, making sure that there’s no trace of you on him. He doesn’t want the others to know that he got on his knees for you, that he buried his face between your legs, that he has just fucked you hard and fast until he had the chance to fill you up.

The thought makes him smile.

You felt so good all around him.

He loved watching you crumble along with him, because you were so tight and...

“Are you alright, Reid? Is Y/N okay?” Penelope asks

David rolls his eyes, lifting his right hand. “I don’t want to hear anything. She’s my niece!”

Spencer keeps his mouth shut, sitting beside Luke. “She’s... She’s really good.”

The party goes on for at least one more hour, then one by one, the rest of the team heads home. Spencer is the last one to leave Rossi’s mansion, not really sure whether to get out of the house and wait for you somewhere on the road or just come clean with David.

He’s a profiler, he knows exactly what is happening between you and Spencer.

Spencer made sure not to mention throughout the night, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how and how hard you kissed him. Everything you did, everything you said was so intoxicating – and it wasn’t just because you are extremely beautiful.

No, it’s just...

Everything.

Spencer can’t pinpoint exactly what he loves the most about you.

“Are you waiting for Y/N?”

Spencer blinks, turning to look at David. “Me? No, I was just...”

“Y/N!”

David calls out your name and Spencer’s heart drops to his chest, shocked by his action. He wasn’t expecting his colleague to yell your name, mostly because he was hoping no one downstairs understood what was happening just a floor up.

Apparently, they all did.

You open the door of your room, your head poking out at the top of the stairs. “Yes?”

“Spencer’s waiting for you.”

You look at him for a split second and Spencer waves at you, clearly embarrassed by what’s happening right now. You don’t blame him, you want to bury yourself with your bed sheets right now because you weren’t exactly planning on going out in the open with Spencer.

You don’t complain.

Hiding would’ve taken you minutes or at least an hour.

And you were starting to miss Spencer.

Hopping down the stairs in nothing, but a sweater and a pair of black leggings, you nod your head. You grab Spencer’s hand and place a kiss on his cheek, turning your head to look at David.

He’s not surprised.

Instead, he smiles.

“Ah, my new favourite couple.” – Krystall chimes in from behind, placing a hand over her heart – “Are you guys going out to celebrate Mischief Night all alone?”

Spencer feels like a guy who just arrived to pick up his girlfriend from prom. It’s not embarrassing, it’s just a bit unsettling so he turns to look at you – and when he does, and your eyes meet, he feels relaxed.

This is not that bad.

“Yes, there’s a Drive-In cinema not too far from here. I think we’ll go there and get to know each other.” – Spencer says, staring at you with a sheepish smile on his face – “Y/N is really interesting.”

You blush at his complement, gripping his elbow. “So charming.”

Krystall coos, nodding her head. “Alright! Have fun, guys. And enjoy Mischief Night! Be careful, there are kids egging cars around this neighbourhood.”

You yank Spencer by the elbow, running outside David’s house in silence. There’s no need to say anything, because if you open your mouth you will probably start laughing until you can even breathe anymore.

You were trying to be so secret... And it didn’t work.

It obviously didn’t work, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are.

Spencer opens the car door for you, closing it before jumping on his own seat.

“Oh my...”

He giggles first, covering his mouth.

You try your best to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to give in. This is not funny, this is quite embarrassing and you know you will never hear the end of it the day after. David’s not going to let you go so easily, and he’ll probably give you the whole speech about safe sex and how young you are compared to Spencer.

Thirteen years are not that much!

“We got caught.”

“I’m not surprised.” – Spencer says, turning to look at you as he leans forward – “I know a place we can go to be alone. No one will bother us, not even kids with their eggs.”

You nod your head, placing a hand on top of his. “So you can be as loud as you want while you watch me suck your pretty cock.”

The young doctor bites his bottom lip at your words, your hand immediately sliding from his to the bulge already forming between his legs.

He’s so easy to work up.

“Take me there.” – you tell him, placing a soft kiss over his lips – “Now.”

Spencer has never driven so fast to a place before in his life, dying to feel your mouth all over him like you just promised. He’s not going to hold back now, enjoying everything you can give him and giving you even more than he could do at David’s house.

If tomorrow your jaw is sore and your thighs are covered in little bite marks, you don’t complain. Maybe heading to that dark place with no one around and having the young doctor have his way with you was the best idea you’ve ever heard.

You hope to celebrate Mischief Night like this every single year.

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queerprayers · 10 months

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do you have any tips for protestant christians who want to practice advent in a more ritualistic way?

Happy Advent, beloved! I love this question!

Hopefully this isn't too obvious but just in case: Advent wreaths were originally a Lutheran tradition and they're my favorite holiday ritual! I'm in the minority in that my church's Advent color is blue, but many people's are purple and pink. The Wikipedia page lists some different traditions—some people give a meaning to each candle. Generally people will have five and light one for each week of Advent and then one for Christmas. Advent is cut short this year (Advent 4 and Christmas Eve are the same day) but it's still never too late to start participating in a season! One day of mindful Advent is more precious than weeks of half-hearted Advent.

I have blue and gold candle holders, but many places sell Advent-specific candles and holders, or you can just get four or five candles (real or fake) from around the house and arrange them! I haven't gotten around to it yet this year but I like gathering evergreen branches from outside and arranging them in more of a proper wreath, but a fake wreath would work too, or just candles on a cloth or table.

I also saw this 20-minute Advent candle set, where you can light a candle each day and let it burn down while praying/meditating/writing. You could set a timer and do something similar with any type of candle. Candles are a staple of winter holidays for a reason—light and warmth, obviously, and there's something about having a natural source of those things existing in your house when so much of the rest of your life may be artificial. I thank God my house has heating, but I also seek out the ways this earth provides what we need, if we only know where to look.

Some form of counting down to Christmas is a main theme of Advent traditions, and I don't think this is a bad thing at all, although I do see my Advent wreath as more of a fulfillment than a countdown. I always encourage people to take at least a moment for just Advent. We could look at Lent as a countdown to Easter, but we might miss the journey. And after all, Holy Week and Easter is the culmination of our calendar, not Christmas. We are still in the beginning.

My family doesn't usually put up a Christmas tree until around the 23rd, and I don't listen to Christmas carols until Christmas Eve. I don't refuse to participate in secular/cultural Christmas events/traditions before then, but Christmas as religious practice is twelve days for us, starting the 25th. I have time to make room, to prepare. I'm listening to Advent music now, to ground myself in time. I don't say this because I think everyone should necessarily do this (by all means, find room for joy wherever you can), but because an Advent value that I find meaning in is patience. Christmas exists, joy exists, salvation exists—but what happens in the time before those things? What happens if we're not there yet, if we perhaps have to wait our whole lives? We do not know the future, but there are things we can see, and even more things we can trust in. How can we practice hoping for it all?

This year I'm reading Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (the last gift my grandfather gave me), and it's marking my days in a similar way candles do—connecting me with the world, setting aside time, bringing me back to why I exist the way that I do. There are countless devotional/topical books out there—as well as Watch for the Light, I would recommend Preparing for Christmas by Richard Rohr and Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation by Luci Shaw (which can double as a Lenten/Easter book as well). I'm also looking forward to reading in future years Celtic Advent by David Cole and WinterSong by Madeleine L'Engle & Luci Shaw.

If you don't usually attend worship services, Advent is a lovely time to start—it's the new year, after all! My city has a caroling night downtown, and you could look for similar events in your community. You could also start new worship traditions—my uncle hosts a Christmas carol singing circle every year, and his apartment is squished full of happy people, some Christian and some not, singing until the neighbors complain.

Speaking of the new year, that's what this is for many of us, and one way we can acknowledge that is by thinking about the past year and/or the year to come. What was last Advent like for you? Where are you now? Why are you seeking out more ritual this year? Are there future seasons in the church year that you want to further observe? What joy and grief and community do you see on the road ahead of you? What can you not even begin to imagine? Advent can be a beginning for all of it, if you let it. And Advent is the ultimate time to contemplate the past and the future—as we remember Jesus coming two thousand years ago, as we experience him every day, and as we look to a second coming that none of us understand but can occasionally stand to ponder.

There are the little things, too—writing Christmas cards is very ritualistic for me, as well as making gifts, and preparing for Christmas in a material way, especially if it's for others, can be a lovely ritual! Volunteering, preparing a home, creating, writing, taking a walk--anything, really, can be a ritual if we do it purposely. We don't always have to add something to our life—we can live something we already live in a new way.

And then there's the other kind of practice: emptying. We talk about this most when we encounter Lent, but I think there's a place for it here, too (and always). I don't mean abandon our responsibilities/hobbies/relationships, but most of us have too much. It is a blessing to have, but it can also be a blessing to let go. Many of us overwork ourselves during December, at work, at school, financially, socially, around the house. I've learned to look at busy-ness as a gift, but I also work to not fill up my life until there's no room for the season. There are people who fast during Advent, but there are other ways to make space in our lives to fill up with God, and Advent encourages us to spend time in that space. God is coming, a thief in the night, a late guest, an overlooked baby. Do you have room? Do you still have the attention span and energy? Will you even notice?

Christmas is many things to many people, and preparing for it is similarly diverse. I'm carrying a lot of grief with me this year, from both family and world tragedy. I know a lot of people who feel pressured to be happy during the holidays, and that breaks my heart—and it also makes me wonder how much having a ritualistic Advent since I was a kid has helped me avoid that. Happiness was never a value my family held—it was beautiful, but not inherently holy. Emotions come and go. Love exists infinitely, and patience and hope can be practiced and lived out regardless.

There are so many traditions, especially in the US, that leave people hungering for ritual and material practice—I've found a lot of physicality in Lutheranism, similar to my Catholic family, but I know there are those who have never really had that. When we seek ritual, it's often because there's something (or many things) in our practice either growing up or currently that we don't have and seek—whether that's the sensory experiences of incense and stained glass, the daily habits of rosary or novena, the liturgical practice of seasons and services, choral and hymn-singing, contemporary music, contemplation, academia, casualness, relatability, mystery, social justice, huge gatherings, tiny meetings, or any of the other Christian experiences that usually traditions don't or can't have all at once. When we seek ritual, we seek what we don't have, but often find what we already have as well. So many things are rituals that we take for granted because we've always had them or gotten used them. Seek new rituals, and seek what is already in your life that you can decide to do. Take your traditions, and find the traditions you didn't receive but hunger for, and make a life. You have time—Advent happens every year, and as far as we know and can hope, we will have many more Advents.

Ultimately, ritual is doing it all on purpose. It's finding rhythm. So much of our lives are accidental, and this can be beautiful and holy, but you have come seeking the things we invite. And yet even things that happen to us can become purposeful, as Mary teaches us: "Let it be with me according to your word." Whether she had a choice is sometimes discussed, but to me often the more relevant question is how she dealt with what came her way. Ritual is taking what we are given and doing it on purpose, and Advent gives us a long tradition, passed down through generations, of active waiting. We have no choice but to wait for the future, but today we will do it with our eyes open. Act as if the world is going to turn upside down—and you will notice it is, all the time.

In Watch for the Light, Henri Nouwen writes, "A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The moment is empty. But patient people dare to stay where they are. Patient living means to live actively in the present and wait there. Waiting, then, is not passive. It involves nurturing the moment, as a mother nurtures the child that is growing in her."

Whatever rituals you invite in or find that you already have, however you nurture the moments that make up this season, I pray they make room in your heart for what God can bring. As Rilke tells us (in teaching how to approach art, but what else are the mysteries of this season?), "Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity."

<3 Johanna

#asks #if you can give lutherans nothing else. you gotta hand it to us for advent wreaths. we kinda went off with those

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