#lugh

[reejindeed]

Another Lugh-inspired drawing. He’s easy to go for inspiration, especially right now when things are feeling their craziest.

[nestwrought]

Giftset of my OC amv (Without You/Oh Wonder)

Kindly, do not tag these as warrior cats. They are not Warriors OCs.

[blackcrowing]

Important Facts about Lughnasadh from an Irish Celtic Reconstructionist

Spelling and Pronunciation

OI. Lughnasadh (Loo-na-sa), sometimes spelled Lughnasa or Modern Irish Lúnasa. Not to be confused with other harvest festivals like Lammas.

Dates

Most reconstructionists celebrate Lughnasadh on July 31st - August 1st from sundown to sundown by the Gregorian calendar, while others choose to celebrate the transitional period between the months as they would have been by the Julian calendar (about 13 days later by the Gregorian calendar).

Traditionally this festival likely would have happened as the grains were ready for harvesting or possibly even when the wild bilberries were ripe (as some scholars mention that if the grains were not ripe they would still preform a ritualized ‘first harvesting’ but it is possible this tradition came after the festival was firmly tied to a calendar date.)

Importance in the Mythos

In the mythologies it is well documented that this festival coincides with Lugh’s funeral games in honor of his foster-mother Tailtiu, known as Aonach Tailteann. In the mythologies she is said to have died of exhaustion after clearing the plains of Ireland for agricultural needs. The first documented instance of Lughnasadh in the mythologies was in the Wooing of Emer, Tochmarc Emire, which makes sense given the importance of marriages at this time of the year. It is not known specifically but widely speculated that the curse of the Ulstermen by Macha took place at a horse race for this festival.

In later time periods it is common to see a form of struggle, normally between the ‘protective’ forces and ‘destructive’ forces. The modern equivalent being the struggle between Saint Patrick and Crom Dubh but this is likely a reflection of an early struggle between Lugh and Balor (which I previously mentioned in my info-dump on Bealtaine).

Celebration Traditions

Aonachs, funeral games, have (to the best of our knowledge) been a custom in Ireland since the bronze age and were practiced on and off into the middle ages. They had both personal and community functions and occurred in three stages. Stage one was the funeral proceedings themselves. They would last one to three days, likely depending on the importance of the individual in question. Mourning songs and chants were participated in by both the attendees and the Druids. The second stage was for proclaiming of laws. Aonachs were a time when universal peace between túaths was declared. The third stage was that of Cuiteach Fuait, games that tested mental and physical abilities. These games included the well known horse and chariot races, wrestling games, boxing, high jumps but also competitions in strategy, singing, story telling and between various skilled craftsmen.

It was incredibly common for marriages to be arranged and preformed during this festival. More well known ‘trial marriages’ (lasting a year and a day) were still preformed at this festival up until the 13th century. It is likely that the coupling occurring at this time of year had an effect on the relationship to births seen at Imbolg (which falls 9 months later).

MacNeill, a leading scholarly expert on the festival, notes that a ritualistic bull sacrifice was made at this festival and the bull would then be eaten. I could not find any definitive evidence to support the idea, but I think it was likely that bulls in general would be culled from the herd at this point in the year to supply the feast.

Art credit @ire-ethereal

[spiritusloci]

A Blessed Lughnasadh (2023)

Happy Lammas, Friends.

[aodhan-art]

pov: Lugh Samildánach offers you a game of fidchell. your bet?

[amylouioc]

The arrival of Lugh to the court of the Tuatha Dé Danann 💫

(This is my November postcard! If you’d like to be sent one, you can sign up here)

[raining-tulips]

Alternatives to breadmaking for this lughnasadh:

Boa buns - custard dessert ones, or savory dinner ones. Can be decorated. Bread-ish, but takes less time than bread.

Pasta making - or buying fresh pasta - celebrates the grains

Rice dishes - rice is just as much about abundance as wheat is

Baking with fruits like apples, berries, and late-summer melons

Tortilla making, if that fits with your culture better

Cornbread - homemade, or that 99 cent Jiffy mix.

[thesovereignsring-if]

She hides it well, but there is a softness in her usually hard topaz gold eyes. There is a wistfulness to her and something else- something more vulnerable and precious.

Wordcount: 2.3k+

It's out! This monster that has consumed my life and every waking thought for the past few days. (T﹏T`) This started out as a funny and simple idea that ran away from me and that's how we got here. Honestly it's kind of spoilery and I honestly don't know if I'm releasing it too early or not, but I don't care!! Take this horrid plot bunny and enjoy it. I'll answer any questions to the best of my abilities without spoilers! It's angsty to me because I've been with these characters from the beginning, but I have no idea how you guys will take it lmaoo.

AO3 Link

Yearning

Nephilim Palace is easy to infiltrate if one knows her deepest secrets- and he knew all of them. The traveler spent a few of his boy years running through Nephilim’s hidden passageways. 

He’s dressed in a navy blue uniform with gold tassels, white trousers and brown boots. The standard issue attire for imperial officers. He had swiped the uniform years ago and still manages to fit into them today. Like all things in the empire- nothing changed. So no one had batted an eye when he slipped into the palace and joined the bustling rush of knights, officers and servants. It helps that his figure has not changed much over the years. He takes care of himself. 

The empress is in the gardens, which is strange for her. Maeve never had a love or interest in such frivolous things like flowers- well, except for standing next to them to enhance the beauty of the garden with her presence. She is vain in that way. But it was endearing. 

Today however, the traveller thinks that is not the case. Today, the gold tiara she typically wears is not sitting on her pretty head. 

Maeve is dressed in a simple white blouse and trousers. Her thick blonde hair is pulled up into a ponytail,reminiscent of her days as a Shield Maiden. It’s been five years since Maeve Nibel Astrea ascended the throne and during that time, that stylish chair with the fancy cushion had not softened her slender, but toned figure. In her fitting attire, the traveler could admire the hard curve of her biceps, the slope of her thighs- and, of course, her shapely, supple round ass. Yes, she was still every bit the warrior queen she was when they had first met. She takes care of herself too. 

She is leaning against a stone pillar draped in a swirling mess of vines with her back facing him. The traveller can tell she is fiddling with something in her hands and is getting frustrated, tapping the toe of her boot against the marble tiles incessantly. 

Curious, the traveler leans over her shoulder. 

“Aren’t you a bit too old to play with teddy bears?” He says. 

“Spite the Herald!” The empress jumps and swerves around to face him, slapping his chest at the sight of him. “Lugh!” Maeve rasps, looking absolutely winded and ravishing. “By the Light of the Alfather- what are you doing here?” 

Lugh shrugs his shoulders with a wolfish grin, “I got your missive a fortnight ago and decided to visit.” 

Maeve cocks a brow, “aren’t you supposed to be running your own kingdom, Lugh?” 

“Is that not what my wives are for?” 

“Last I recall, your job is to ensure they don’t kill each other.” 

“Well,they do get along when left alone in their own territories,” the king chuckles, “they can play nice for a full moon's turn…I think?” 

Maeve juts her hip out crossing her arms, “that sounds very reassuring, Lugh.” 

“Humor me, Maeve. I traveled all the way here by boat thinking you’d like a shoulder to lean on. Let’s not think of civil war invoking hypotheticals,” Lugh laughs, guiding the empress away to a nearby bench in the shade. It’s behind a large bush of hydrangeas. Here they can have some time together away from curious eyes. 

Lugh pulls out the heavy wooden basket from behind his back, tugging back the lid, revealing an assortment of small fruits, cheese and most importantly Brigian Wines- her favourites. 

“I wouldn’t necessarily say this is an occasion worth celebrating,” Maeve says dryly as Lugh hands her a cup of wine. She swirls the glass, raising the rim to her nose so she could smell its sweet and fruity aroma. “I’m not as active as I used to be, Lugh. I’m going to get fat eating all this.” 

“Live a little, Maeve. A little cheese isn’t going to kill you. I’ll get you to work it off afterwards.” Lugh chuckles warmly as Maeve rolls her eyes, murmuring something akin to real smooth, Lugh.

Together, the king and empress enjoy the silence of the garden and Lugh’s basket of goodies. At some point, Lugh decides it was time to break the silence. He hums, plucking a grape from the basket and dropping into his mouth. “Murder or natural causes?” He asks. 

There is a thoughtful pause before she speaks, “Neither, surprisingly enough. ” Maeve stares grimly off into the distance, “she took it herself.”

Lugh nearly winces as the acidic sweet-sour wine splashes on his tongue. “Shit,” the king swears, turning to his companion, “Ledea had kids, didn’t she?” 

Maeve nods mutely, “the youngest one is but a babe. Five years old.” Lugh’s heart sinks. Thea, one of his own babes was five years old as well. She was a precious thing. “And the eldest turned thirteen last fall.” 

“The cripple?” The king asks, recalling Prince Vayne's eldest child. 

“Yes,” Maeve nods, sipping her wine. “He has a good head on his shoulders- he had everything under control by the time I got there. 

Which is impressive for a child. He was running the duchy and taking care of the little one with great ease. He had assistance from his retainers and the middle child, of course, but he was more put together than I expected. I was impressed. The little one was clinging to him the entire time I was there.” 

There is a sweet wistfulness to Maeve’s voice, a tone Lugh doesn’t hear much from the usual high and mighty empress. 

Lugh’s eyes wander to her thighs, which are supple, but tone with muscle and stare at the flimsy brown teddy bear. Looks like an old thing, a relic from Maeve’s childhood that she must have loved dearly. It’s barely holding together at the seams. The thread looks frayed and ratty, but Lugh can see the glossy shine to the new thread she was attempting to sew in. The stitch work was pitiful at best; uneven and slanted in every direction. Spirits, she was terrible at needle work. 

“Is that why you were fixing up that little bear?” Lugh asks kindly, stifling a chuckle with his hand,”are you planning to send it to the babe?” 

Maeve shoots him a dirty glare as her cheeks turn pink. She’s so pretty. Then takes the teddy bear and hides it behind her back, away from his line of sight. She squirms in her spot. “I’m not sending Joseph anywhere. He’s going to be a gift. The children are coming to the capital to stay with me.” 

Oh, that was a surprise. “All three of them?” Lugh blinks, “and the Duchy is fine with their new lord living so far from home?” 

“I’m not going to separate the children after their mother died and I wasn’t very keen on the idea of having them away from family,” Maeve says hotly, furrowing her brows. “Look. I may hate Ledea, but I’m not going to let my blood suffer so far away from me. They’re all wards to the Crown now, so I can do as I please. I’d like to see anyone try to stop me.”

Lugh could relate. His little brood of children stayed with their mothers, but they were never far from his reach, they were, at most, a day's worth of travel from the castle. 

But there are more Maeve’s words than just that, Lugh realizes, watching the empress as she sips her wine with flushed cheeks. She hides it well, but there is a softness in her usually hard topaz gold eyes. There is a wistfulness to her and something else- something more vulnerable and precious. A softness he’s only seen under the soft glow of candlelight. 

Lugh chuckles to himself, feeling a sharp tug in his gut. He understands what it is. It draws Maeve’s attention, but he says nothing. Instead, he reaches into his basket, pulls out a round pomegranate and cracks it in two, presenting a bountiful cluster of bright red and juicy seeds. The king takes a ruby seed and rolls it between his index finger and thumb before slipping it into his mouth and crushing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. 

It tastes bittersweet. 

Lugh swallows. “You know, I could have given you a babe years ago if that’s what you really wanted.” 

“The only babe I’ll ever have would belong to my lord husband,” Maeve says quietly, averting her eyes the moment they met his, but in that brief moment, one no shorter than a breath, Lugh saw a flash of pain behind her golden eyes. 

Lugh drags his tongue along the blunt rim of his teeth, revelling in the sour-sweetness of the pomegranate. “Your great Empire would never tolerate their empress being one of many wives to a foreign king,” Lugh shakes head, his lips straining to smile. “Well, you never liked sharing to begin with.” 

“I wouldn’t have been your first choice anyway- and more than sharing, I hate being second place,” Maeve says quietly. It stabs him like a hot knife to the chest. He hates hurting her. He’d rather claw his eyes out before any harm comes to her first. 

But…he could not deny it. Horrible as it may sound. He loved Giselle, she left an imprint on his heart that no one could usurp, but that did not mean his feelings for Maeve were any less than true. Giselle was gone. Their time together was over. And yet, her ghost still sits between them.  

“…Perhaps in another life, where we met and married first, we’d have our own gaggle of children to coddle- but that’s not reality,” Maeve says, throwing her head back and downing her glass of wine in one go. When she finishes she sets the glass aside and plucks a few seeds from Lugh’s pomegranate and tosses them into her mouth. 

That’s a surprise, Lugh thought. The pomegranate was for him. Maeve usually had no taste for tart and sour things. 

“I don’t know what it means to be a mother,” Maeve says to the sky, rising to her feet with her teddy bear in hand. “Mine died giving birth to me. I have no real frame of reference- but I want…I want to try. Ledea’s little babe…When I first laid on them, I never thought I’d ever feel this way towards someone else in my life. There’s a connection, a pull that I can’t help but feel.” Then she sighs, looking down at the ratty teddy bear. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replace Ledea as a mother…but if I could be there or look after the children in her place…I think that will be enough.” 

“You’ll be a good mother,” Lugh says firmly, setting the fruit aside to stand next to her, cupping her face, flushed and rosy from wine, with his hands. “Even if the children won’t say it to your face, even if they ignore your efforts or appreciate you. I know you, Maeve. That child will know nothing, but love.”    

“...You’re not angry with me?” She asks softly. Her gold eyes flickering with a soft, fragile light. Her voice is so small… 

It hurts. It hurts so much he feels like drowning. There is nothing Lugh wants more than a child with her gold woven hair and sparkling topaz eyes. A babe with her bright, all consuming smile.. but Lugh’s made his peace. He’ll take whatever she gives him and he’ll accept it gladly because it’s better than not having her at all. That would be death. 

“I’ll love any child of yours, Maeve,” he says instead. And that is the truth. “Even if it’s not a babe of my own. I’ll love it. I won’t be able to physically be there every step of the way, but my spirit, my light, will be with you, my love. I mean it.” 

Her lips taste bitter, tart and sweet all at once and he doesn’t mind. Such is life. He swallows it all without protest and if he drowns he’d welcome it gladly. There is no place he’d rather be than right here, with her in his arms. 

When they part her golden eyes are shimmering with a hint of tears, but her smile is brighter than the sun. Then she laughs, bright and fluttery, then pries his hands from her cheeks. “Your hands are sticky! I’m going to get pimples, Lugh!” 

“You’d still be pretty, don’t worry,” Lugh apologies with a small smile on his face as she smacks his arm in protest. He’s glad that she’s happy. It’s all he’d ever wanted for her. Perhaps with the children with her, Maeve will be less lonely in the palace. Nephilim was a lonely place to live alone. 

“Come on, let’s go inside and wash up, then maybe you can put me to work like you promised,” Maeve says coyly, tucking the teddy bear away in one hand and reaching for his own hand with the other. 

“So soon, Maeve?” Lugh asks, “it’s hardly midday and there’s still so much food to eat. I don’t think there’ll be a lot to work off. ” 

“I’ve had my fill. And…I’ve missed you,” Maeve confesses with a bashful, hooded stare. 

Ah, well, Lugh is definitely not going to argue against that. 

The king takes the empress’s hand, enjoying the way her slender fingers wrap around his own and takes the heavy basket in the other. He likes the way her thick head of hair feels on his shoulder and how her smile lifts his heart. 

They leave towards the palace hand in hand. Lugh wonders what the servants and the guards will think when they see him dressed in a simple officer’s uniform. There is no way to hide his identity when he’s next to her. He thinks it’ll be funny. 

“Oh! That reminds me,” Maeve pipes up, “the little one’s birthday is coming up in a few moons. If it’s not too much trouble, I was thinking…” 

[raffaellopalandri]

Happy Lughnasadh!

Today, August 1st, we celebrate Lughnasadh, a Gaelic festival to welcome the beginning of the harvest season. Lughnasadh – Image taken on Internet 🌾🔥 Celebrating Lughnasadh: Embracing the Harvest’s Bounty 🌾🔥 Greetings fellow pagans and seekers of ancient wisdom! As we approach the sacred time of Lughnasadh, also known as Lughnasa, or Lúnasa, let us come together to honour the first of three…

[mytholots]

Apollo: If I fall…

Surya: I’ll be there to catch you.

Lugh: *looks at Sol* What if I fall?

Sol: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Huitzilopochtli: *watches these two interactions*

Huitzilopochtli, to Ra: And if I fall?

Ra: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[evicted-oc]

Thor: *running around with a hammer* LOOK AT MY HAMMER >:D

Morrigan: *laughing her ass off

Lugh: we're never giving him coffee again

Loki: *yawns* I'm up-

Hœnir: I'm going to the coffee shop.. come if you want?

Óðr: hey~

Donn: loki, stop taking pictures

Loki: hehe 👹 no

Morrigan: makeup~ Thor decided to take a picture of me while I was talking-

Thor: *bouncing off the walls*

Arawn: and I'm going back to the underworld

Lugh: *takes his cigarette away* it's too early for that

Arawn: *takes out another and lights it*

Lugh: no! *huffs and takes it away*

Arawn: *pulls out another* I could keep going

Lugh: I can see you looking *winks and blows a kiss

Balor: *gags*

Lugh: STOP

Balor: I don't know what to say other than I look good

Lugh: *gags*

Balor: 😐

[reejindeed]

Been wanting to make more work based on Irish paganism and its stories (sort of a blending of jobs hahaha), so I started with an obvious option for me.

Lugh, master of many skills! The "many skills" bit comes in handy for work and an endless sea of special interests, for sure.

[a-d-nox]

celtic astrology: birch

date range: december 24th to january 20th

advice

these trees are known to have shallow root systems and thusly are sensitive to drought. make sure you are staying hydrated and moisturizing your skin.

animal

the white stag; guardian of the gateway, symbol of death and healing - known for its aspirations, independence, nobility, and achievements.

birch attributes

slender and beautiful. smaller than average. grows fast - likely to level up quickly. short-lived; very little keeps their interest. pioneer. tough. experiences many new beginnings. ambitious/determined - resilient. loyal. patient. ability to overcome all things. determined leader. strategic. excellent organizer. passionate. caring. a sense of loneliness - loner. tight schedule. serious. pessimistic - prone to depression.

birch attributes distinguished with western astrology signs

birch people will only ever be capricorns. more career oriented. workaholic. hungers for power. goal-oriented. wants to help others. not a quitter. wants nothing more than to be loved. loyal/faithful. brave.

deity

lugh (asteroid 217628); the sun god, fostered by the dark king of the fae, renowned for his skills of the arts, crafts, and sciences.

relationship with other celtic tree people

birch people find themselves easily over shadowed around oak people; stay away from working with an oak person, so you can receive attention and nurturing from others.

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[kung-fu-grandma]

It'd be cool to come up with Pagan alternatives to the days of the week in the Gaelic languages, since the current ones have such Christian meanings

DiLuain can stay since moon worship is a thing, but perhaps we might change the Latin to "Latha na Gealaich"?

DiMairt could be "Latha na Mhór-ribhinne" (The Morrigan's Day) in keeping with the "M" sound of "Mairt"

DiCiadain needs to go since it refers to a Christian fast, so why not make it Latha an Daghdha? (A sort of oblique reference to Wednesday being "Wodan's Day" in English perhaps?

DiarDaoin again refers to fasts, so maybe "Latha Lùgha"?

DihAoine, another fast, so how about "Latha Aoidh" since it sounds kinda similar to "aoin"?

DiSathairne isn't Christian so much as the wrong kind of pagan, so I'm not against leaving it as is, but as long as we're going with new names, why not "Latha Manannain"?

DiDòmhnaich is perhaps the most explicitly Christian, but since we have "Latha na Gealaich" already, I propose substituting "Latha na Gréine"

I was obviously a bit inspired by the Germanic names here, but I'm curious to see what everyone else's thoughts are! I came up with these off the top of my head, so I make no guarantees about their appropriateness or linguistic accuracy (I'm a Gaelic learner, not a fluent speaker).

[spiritusloci]

[wicked-witch-dude]

Lughnasadh Blessings to everyone!

🌾🌾🌾🌻🌾🌾🌾