#Celtic Thin Places

[cricketchirp]

My Reawaking

In any given year, I've said good-bye to you, my dear vernal pool in late May or early June. But this year of Twenty-twenty-three has been like no other as you've retained water beyond your ephemeral season. When upon July 14 I peered into your shallow depth, I was greeted with frog legs growing upon tadpole bodies, a sight not witnessed in your waters ever before. In years past miniature…

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Thin Places, Jordan Kisner. 

[ofruinsandmyth]

There is in Celtic mythology the notion of ‘thin places’ in the universe where the visible and the invisible world come into their closest proximity. To seek such places is the vocation of the wise and the good—and for those that find them, the clearest communication between the temporal and eternal. Mountains and rivers are particularly favored as thin places marking invariably as they do, the horizontal and perpendicular frontiers. But perhaps the ultimate of these thin places in the human condition are the experiences people are likely to have as they encounter suffering, joy, and mystery.

— Peter Gomes

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, eyes as bright as sapphires in the sun. She smiled, "Don't you worry, pet," She gave you a kiss on the head, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

You nodded, solemn, and watched Ginny greet a young woman in similarly outdated dress as she entered the room. You didn't know who she was, and Aurora gave you a funny look when you asked:

"Where's Ginny going?"

She shushed you, murmuring, "What're you talking about?"

Annoyed, "She just left with a lady." You weren't 3, you knew what you saw. But Aurora gave you the same look she always did when she thought you were making up stories.

And then, something seemed to change Aurora's mind because she asked, "You saw Ginny leave the room?"

You nodded, "Yeah. With a lady I don't know."

"Probably another Traveler." Aurora commented, already depositing you on your feet so she could wake your mother. "It's easier for them to figure out what's wrong with Ginny if they don't have to deal with people."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to look at the doorway. A man now stood there, dressed in clothes that reminded you of the TV show Aurora watched reruns of religiously. That 70s Show. He smiled kindly, tipped his head, and then wandered away. Him you recognized. Had seen him before around the house, though no one had ever spoken to him.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pinched your chin, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was when you not only learned that Traveling meant something different to your family, but that you could see ghosts.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking pot. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man.

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, just hearing his name intimidated the idiots who thought to mess with him. Nowadays he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted the man to fuck off and leave you alone. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby," gaze fixed on Mr. Anderson's face.

But you ignored him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there earlier. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily.

He knew it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less. Like Katelynn who, a week before her death, had been spurned by her Scene Kid friends because she'd admitted to being a fan of Hilary Duff.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, meek. Wally's blood boiled. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID declared.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension radiating off you, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt so violent?

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you and him calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of fucked up there is." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "I've never seen him like that."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I hear you. He's usually super friendly." He tracked the back of his fingers down your cheek, "You should get your stuff, baby, I don't trust him not to freak out worse if he finds you still here."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Anderson?"

"Honestly? He was giving off really creepy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mama." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "He wouldn't do that."

"How can you be sure? The dude's just your teacher. You don't know what shit he gets up to after school." Wally reasoned.

You chuckled, "He's my Uncle Andrew's best friend, actually. I don't know him super well or anything like that, but I doubt Andrew would've stuck by him if he was capable of murder."

Wally gaped, "Damn, your family's just everywhere, aren't they?"

"It's a small town, Wally. Everyone's family is everywhere."

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Either way, he was acting weird and clearly isn't acting like himself. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

Champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, "You lie like that often?"

Shame bled into your features as you cast your gaze to the ground. You didn't look at him when you said, "Only when I have to."

"Do you have to do it a lot?"

"More than I'd like, yeah." You shrugged, audibly unhappy about the fact. "Trust me, it's not that I want to. But my family has a strict No One Can Know policy when it comes to our..." You lifted your free hand and air-quoted, "gifts."

Wally bumped into your side sportively. He took a beat to consider his question before he asked it, unsure if he was ready to hear anything other than what he wanted to. "Do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

You stopped and drew Wally back the two steps he'd taken ahead.

Looking him square in the eye, you promised, "I'm not going to lie to you, Wally. About anything. Ever." Once he nodded to accept he understood, you moved along, "And anyway, you're now in on the one thing I have to lie about. So, unless I'm under a Fidelius Charm, I honestly don't have anything else to hide."

"A what charm?"

"Do we not have Harry Potter in the library?" You asked to no one in particular.

"Oh man, yeah. Rhonda got really into those books for awhile." Wally sloped toward you to stage-whisper, "She's a total nerd for them. Says she's a Slytherin." Wally straightened and snickered, "Whatever that means. She'd kill me if she ever found out I told you."

You drew an X over your heart, "I won't tell a soul," before you released Wally's hand to push the door to the atrium open.

As he followed you down the ramp toward the front entrance, Wally couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort. A wave of fondness washed over Wally and he grinned stupidly at you, all teeth and soft eyes.

"I can't." You said. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally. We call it Traveling."

Whoa. You were officially the coolest person Wally had ever known.

A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unhinged. And who could blame him? Normal people couldn't leave their bodies at will and surf the cosmos!

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you and he exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, influencing Wally's actions. He slid his hands down from your waist to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from your collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you and him was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to drag you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mama had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to cool his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above residual hauntings but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss Maddie, not dry hump on a picnic table. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with attitude, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along great." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You regretted.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, 7:30 early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally vowed, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you and him quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello:D

Okay but MxM: imagine there’s like a ‘peace’ treaty between humans and Yautja and some interspecies programs are set up, and a Yautja and a human who absolutely despise each other get teamed up, absolutely bully each other and then one begins to realise it’s sexual tension not hate and they just end up fucking on the job🗣️🔥

Thick As A Knife

Pairings: Celtic (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 6300 (Whoop! Ten pages)

Summary: This was all your friend's fault. Sign up for the treaty, he said. It'll be fun, he said. It's not like you would've gotten picked. Until you received a phone call one day. The only reason you don't say no was the fact of the pay. The pay.

Author Note: This... this unfortunately isn't one of my best works. I don't feel very proud of it but I can't find the energy to redo. I'm so sorry, dude, I tried my best. I hope it still works for you though! I tried to make it decent by using your favorite man's.

Masterlist

Ao3

Out of everyone that was offered as a sacrifice, er, sorry. That was placed into the program, you had been one that was chosen. One of your friends put your name into the gamble just for the fun of it alongside herself. Look at what’s happening now.

All of your stuff was pulled from your apartment and placed into a shipping container. Where it will be taken to an interspecies ship that was the first of its kind. Not only will that happen, but apparently you’re going to be placed with the species you hated. A species who was completely uncivilized. They call humans primitive but strut around half naked in fishnets. If there wasn’t a good amount of cash that’s being deposited into your account as you say, there was no way in hell you would let this happen. Not if you’re going to trapped in a space with the Yautjas.

A scoff left your lips, eyes rolling. This was unbelievable. Space travel wasn’t shiny new, but it’s not like you’ve been outside of earth’s atmosphere before. That’s when your leg began to shake, bouncing up and down in a rapid motion.

So far, there’s been no incidents. That included both the ship you’ll be residing on and with the new friendly Yautjas your government decided to friend. It was best to keep your enemies close, keep an eye on them. Yet, here they are, sticking you to a randomly picked alien as well. The two of you had one thing in common. Forced by your governments to follow their commands.

The door to the shipping unit shut before your very eyes and locked away all your possessions. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

Over on the street, a black car pulled into the parking lot. The windows completely blacked out. All you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. Then, the tinted window rolled down to reveal a woman dressed in a suit. She reminded you of the movie Men In Black with the black glasses. Once again, you couldn’t see here eyes.

She motioned towards the front see you were meant to take. With one more glance to what could be the last time you may see your apartment, you opened the door and slid in. The shipping container was left behind for someone to come pick and take to your new home. Thinking about it was making it more of a reality in your mind. Your leg began to twitch again.

All the way to the launch site, the driver kept silent. Her glasses provided the perfect barrier from seeing her eyes and getting a read on her. You wrung out your fingers while they sat in your lap the entire car ride.

About three hours had passed before she turned onto what looked to be an abandoned road. It was strictly gravel. This wasn’t what you were expecting to be the grand entrance to a new life in space. You watched as low hills passed on either side of the car. She wasn’t in much of a rush, carefully about how bumpy the backroad was.

The car came over a hill. On the other side sat a small, navy blue vessel. A vessel that resembled the ships many of the Yautjas used. Your mood soured immediately, ruined by the reminder of where you were going. Your muscles grew tense. Unsaid words entered the air and filled it with tension that the driver could feel.

When the vehicle came to halt, the process was swift. You were given a quick brief of how to act and what to do while on this ship. It practically went into one ear and out the other. Honestly, you tried to listen, tried to be a good sacrifice. But with the situation, you stopped caring. If only they were the ones going to be stuck with the brute of an alien for however long they pleased. There were no set times. Just a paycheck in the mail every two weeks you are there. A good paycheck that had you mostly compliant.

After everything was said and done, they ushered you towards this navy blue vessel. A ramp lowered down at your presence. It felt like a scene from Star Wars. The hiss of steam before a ramp revealed the inside of this ship. As a human, your curiosity was screaming at you, wanting to figure out everything that made this thing tick. You were becoming part of the first group of humans to enter space. Though, with the aid of another species. It was still a feat that wasn’t achievable in this manner until now.

They showed you up the ramp before leaving you in the middle of a small gathering room. The ship itself wasn’t massive by any means. Just a carrier ship for short travel.

Towards the front of the vessel was the cockpit. At first, you missed the figure but your eyes snapped back to him.

From limited pictures, you could still tell this was that Yautja, that unfortunate partner you’ve been paired with. They call him Celtic. It almost gave him a sort of human side to him but immediately narrowed your eyes on the figure. He was your ride? You internally scoffed and fought off the want to cross your arms. That would look bad on your part. And that paycheck was looking really, really nice.

The brute of a man stood up. Never in your life had you been around one of them before. They don’t come to earth. Not unless they hunted before the treaty. That didn’t happen much anymore, unless someone offered themselves up for the hunt. That was part of the deal the government made with the Yautjas.

And he was tall and thick. He had to be at least three times your mass. His sensor dreads weren’t extremely long. They were a dark black, signaling his young age. You were surprised his government had sent someone on the younger side to be part of the treaty. Yet, here you were as well.

A forced smile cracked at your features. It felt more like a grimace. Celtic stopped in front of you and tilted his head down, bright yellow eyes peering into your very soul. It became a staring contest, trying to find the weakness in each other. Whatever you could get to make sure you had the upper hand. He was a beast, a species that knows no mercy. You hated the fact that you had been roped into those by your friend. There was no backing out. All you could do was endure this for however long it was necessary. Get the money, get out. Simple as that.

His mandibles flickered, tongue darting out to taste the air. “You are not what I was expecting,” he speaks in a slower voice. A proper speech as if he just recently learned English. It took a lot of will not to cross your arms and drop the façade at his words. This is part of the reason you disliked this species as a whole. They were all the same. There was no difference between any of them. They all had that rude attitude. It irked you so much too.

Your hand curled into a fist at your sides. You clicked your tongue, eyes roaming from head to toe in a careless manner. “And you’re not as high skilled as I thought you would be,” your snarked and relaxed your grip. It would be best not show your emotions as much to these guys.

One thing you knew about these guys was where to hurt them. Their pride and hunting skills. Hit either of those and they will show they don’t like to be challenged. It didn’t matter what sex, both sex’s aren’t going to back down from a challenge. Especially one they know that could be won. One against a weak ooman that’s defenseless. You read up on some of their culture. To make sure you had everything in your power to survive this to the disastrous end. The people with the white wigs didn’t know a lick about what happens below their boot.

Just think of the money.

The way his eyes darkened, mandibles pulling tight over his alien mouth. Nothing needed to be said that you got under his skin. You held back a proudful smirk and kept your eyes narrowed on his towering figure.

Celtic scoffed then spun on his heel before strutting into the cockpit. You let the grin crack your façade wide open. Ah, that was lovely. You meandered after him and peered into the new space. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it held the most important pieces to fly the craft. Despite your smug feelings, you were in awe at the incredible technology shift. You hid it before taking a seat to the left of him. The Yautja didn’t even glance in your direction.

Ah, you had really hit him where it hurt. Good. He’s probably killed one of your kind. He deserved it.

Underneath you, the ship rumbled, and the engines flared to life. It was powerful to be inside of such a thing. Your grin flickered onto your features for only a second. This wasn’t the time. You shoved it down to the pit of your stomach and gripped onto the armrests. This was your first time launching into space, leaving earths atmosphere. There was no way to stop the thundering of your heart.

Earth’s ground left the landing gear’s feet. You leaned forward in your seat to peer over the edge of console to look out the window. Once a hundred feet in the air, Celtic rapidly presses a few buttons then grabbed a lever. You had no time to react when he punched it. The force sent you flying back into the seat with a soft ‘oof’. The air in your lungs was pushed out but you quickly regained control.

He pressed forward and tilted the craft into a climb. Clouds whooshed passed the window. A sight you’ve never got to see before, even when flying. It continued to push higher and higher into the sky. Soon the day sky turned into night in a matter of a minute. Without light pollution of the cities, the stars were free to shine as brightly as they wished. You leaned forward in awe. The sight beyond anything you’d experienced before.

The craft leveled out without the fighting force of earth’s gravity to pull it down. The lack of gravity pulled at your stomach. Nausea washed over you for a few moments. Then, everything returned to normal. Your grip still clung to the armrests of the co-pilot’s chair. It would take an act of God to get you to loosen up. Fear wasn’t the contributing factor but the unknown of the whole situation made you feel unease. You’ve seen plenty of pictures and 3D models of the vessel you’ll be staying in. That’s fake over the rude awaking of the real world. It was really happening.

A moment passed when your gaze returned to the open vast space. In front of the ship, far away, was the forementioned ship. Your jaw slackened at the size. It rivaled a football field or cruise ship easily. Without any indicator, it was difficult to tell. There was nothing in space to compare it to, to see how big it really was. But it was huge.

That’s where you were going to be staying. A fact you didn’t have hit you in the fact until now. Celtic flew the ship closer to what’s called a mother ship. It’s a hub, per se. It’s where a clan would live and could maintain one as well. Similar to a tiny planet.

With practice ease, Celtic pulls the ship in the docking portion of the ship. He lands nearly perfect with only a bounce then shuts down all the engines. A new silence washes over the two of you. Celtic is up and out of his seat without a word. The lumbering form expertly spins on his heel once up and marches towards the back of the carrier vessel you were in. You jolted at the sudden abandonment and rushed after him like a stumbling fool. “What that fuck!? Wait up for me,” you yelled at him and barely made it to him when the ramp had touched the ground.

There he goes again.

Long strides take him down the ramp. You tsked to yourself and raced after his fleeing form. Clearly, he dislikes your presence. That’s makes two of you.

You ran into his back with grunt and stumbled back. Right as you were about to yell at him for that, a throat clearing stopped you in your tracks. You peered around Celtics form to find three well decorated Yautjas standing in front of him. An ‘oh shit’ moment slapped you straight in the face. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

To look like less than a fool, you calmly stepped out from behind him and stood with your shoulders squared. Four pairs of eyes were set onto your form. You recalled from the information given to you, to not stare into their eyes. It can be seen as a challenge. Something you would never, ever want to deal with. You respectfully bowed your head in their direction, understanding they are at least elders. A high rank amongst their culture. To piss them off meant a death sentence.

One of them called your name and drew your timid gaze to the trio. You are respectful to let your eyes flicker between them or towards the ground.

“We are pleased to see you’ve joined us,” the one to your left politely greets you, mandibles slowly stretching out. “This is a wonderful opportunity for both of our communities to learn from this experience.” You had to shut off your throat to stop a scoff from escaping in their faces. They learned plenty from all the times they visited.

The middle one, an earthy green tone, dips his head a centimeter. “Yes. It is a great experience for all parties. As for your stay, you aren’t obligated to stay. You are no prisoner but a guest amongst the Yautja. If an issue arises, don’t be afraid to reach out to the three of us. We want to ensure you make it off of the mother ship alive.” The joke is crude but seems a normal thing for them.

They all chuckle in a short manner. “Your quarters are different compared to normal ones onboard. You are stationed with Celtic here, as he is your partner for this. There are two separate rooms. He will be your guide throughout all of this,” the one on your right spoke up. “Your things shall arrive at the end of the cycle. We wish the best of luck towards the both of you.”

All of them glanced at Celtic for a fleeting moment before leaving you to him. Celtic watched as the elders left the docking area. The second they were out of sight, he started a fast pace in a certain direction. You were left to scamper after him all over again. You gritted your teeth and practically ran to catch up to him.

“Seriously, wait up! I’m not as tall as you,” you snapped at the still retreating frame. Your legs moved as fast as they could to catch up to him. Celtic didn’t even glance down at you and kept the same speedy pace towards a certain direction.

With the knowledge of how long it will take for your unit to make it up here, you were stuck with the clothes on your back and the phone in your pocket. Nothing else. You grumbled under your pants while forced to jog next to the strutting male. He was fast, you’ll have to give him that. Celtic walked with purpose towards an elevator. The doors opened at your approach. He entered and spun on his heel to face the entrance. His eyes didn’t even flicker in your general direction. They stared out into the open space of the docking port. You barely made it inside in time before the doors closed and sealed your fate with him.

All the way to the desired floor, Celtic was silent. The gears inside of his head were working overtime. You didn’t need to know him long to see what was happening. Not that you cared. There wasn’t a chance you would care about him. Not in a million years.

In a flash, the male was out the door and down the hall. A growl left your throat. You chased after him and slipped past other roaming Yautjas. Some gave you glares while other completely ignored you, unless you ran into them. Then, a threatening snarl would work its way to your ears. You were swift to get out of their way and flail to keep up with Celtic. He was doing this on purpose. There were no doubts about that. All you wanted was to go to the designated room and call it a night. Today’s been filled with plenty of excitement, including packing everything important to your everyday activities. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here. It was best to be prepared.

Celtic stopped in his tracks. Right at the moment you caught up to him. You bumped into his side with your shoulder. A pointed look was thrown at you. Instead of cowering like you would’ve to any other Yautja, you sneered and challenged him silently to do something. Sure, have this whole treaty situation go up in arms right off the bat. You didn’t care. There was a paycheck sitting happily in your bank account. One nice enough to keep you content for a while.

The alien paused his actions from entering the room and crowded into your space. Despite being one-third of his mass and weight, you kept up the challenge and rose on your tippy toes. His bright eyes darkened at the sight. The lower two of his mandibles twitched in thought. The upper ones were pulled tight over his mouth. Your muscles were locked, ready for whatever he decided to throw at you. You weren’t going to let him or anyone else push you around. Especially, him.

Even when he got so close his stomach pressed against your chest, you didn’t waver. Something in his eyes flickered but you held strong. Number one rule in their culture, don’t back down from a fight. Especially so quickly, it makes you look weak and pathetic. You weren’t either of those. You weren’t going to be that.

The two of you stayed like this for a long time. People passed by. Some glancing at the strange sight while other just ignored the scene as if it was normal. But, it was him who faltered.

His eyes rolled in such a human manner you did a double take. A grumble left his throat while he turned away and strolled into the room. You dumbly stood there for a few moments before rushing inside. Just before the door closed shut and sealed off your new space to the rest of the mother ship. You halted in the foyer and glanced around the areas you could see.

This wasn’t what you were expecting. Though, this was a treaty of alliance and such, you weren’t expecting just a large space.

There were at least three doors you could see from your stop in the main entrance. Everything seemed polished down to the modules and made everything perfect. You slowly meander further inside. There was a kitchen, a decent sized one. A dining room as well; as if you were going to have diner with Celtic, let alone share a meal with him.

All you could speculate about the closed doors were those were the bedrooms and a bathroom. There was also a living room as well. Plenty of space to house a party. You huffed and turned towards him.

“Have you chosen a room or…?” you trailed off in hopes of an answer from him. He blinked at you then disappeared into one of the bedrooms without a word. Anger flared to life. You wanted to wring his neck. Instead, you walked into the only other available room and sat down on the mattress. It was extremely low to the ground. By the looks of it, it almost seemed like it was sunken into the floor. Your legs were kicked out straight in front of you.

Out of everything, this wasn’t what you were expecting. From a life on a planet, you were content with the space offered to you. The people on the other hand. That wasn’t something you were fond of. In all honesty, you wanted to smack him so hard he could see straight. Yet, you refrained from violence on the first.

And the second. Then, the third. Until the days began to blur together that point.

It wasn’t hard to keep track though. Out of everything though, the only thing that was exciting or adrenaline pumping was being dragged to the front of the ship. Straight to the captains cockpit to do a video call back home. You preformed a few briefings with your agents or point of contact. Nothing besides that was entertaining.

Celtic was still pissed at you. He kept his distance far from you as much as possible. Unless the two of you are called upon to speak before the important figures of this whole operation. That’s really when you would only talk to each other and truly see one another. Any other time, he’s either out with his hunt brothers or in his room.

As the only lone human on this alien ship, you’ve cornered yourself into the room. The door was locked most of the time and kept you safe from the monsters you were surrounded by. Food was the only time you freely came out. The need to feed so you didn’t starve was a necessity. You would busy yourself during that time. Even if Celtic came in to the shared apartment, he would go straight to his space. Not a word even uttered in your general direction.

One day, the male came in. Unlike every other time he’s been here, he stopped at the island in the kitchen. Celtic bent over the island and rested on his elbows, eyes watching your every move about. You grew anxious, unsure whether he meant harm or not. Not that he ever has shown he wanted to cause you injury, but you couldn’t help this feeling deep inside of you.

After another minute goes by, you tensed up and spun around on your heel. “What in the world is your problem?!” you snapped at him and pointed the spatula in your hand at him. A brow arches. You motioned with the object in hand for him to move along. “Shoo, let me cook in peace.” He continued to stare at you. You narrowed your eyes at him and pressed your lips into a tight, thin line. Apparently, he didn’t have anything better to do at this moment. Your gaze flickered down his body, taking in the sight of the lack of clothes that adorned him. His muscular body easily on display without any remorse. Like the dumbass you are, you stared longer than you meant to.

Celtic just stayed there. A sigh left your lips. You grumbled under your breath before slowly turning back around to face the stove. It wasn’t like you could anything to make him move if he didn’t. The Yautja was three times your mass. It would be easy to figure out how well that would turn out to be without even needing to see anything occur.

The entire time, his eyes stayed on you. The hunk stood in the same spot, not even wavering. Just a predator watching… his prey. You shuttered at the thought and quickened your pace. The faster you finished the process, the faster you could get into your room. Away from him and weirdness happening right now.

Your food was nearly done. The burner was shut off. It smelled like heaven. If one thing about this time away from home has taught you something, how to truly cook. When you have nothing else to do, cooking is a great experience to have under your belt.

Large, warm hands grasped at your hips, nearly encircling your entire waist. A gasp tore from your throat. Your hands braced onto the edge of the stove when a weight pinned you in pace.

An inner instinct deep down commanded you to stay put. You gingerly peeked over your shoulder. Celtic, in all of his glory, stood there. A rumbling purr poured from his throat. A noise that had your muscles relaxing underneath him. You bowed your head and huffed. “What… what is your problem?” you grounded out.

Claws dented your shirt. “You.” The weight shifted. The stove’s edge dug into your stomach, further proving his strength against you. You gritted your teeth at the slight ache that gave you.

He bowed his spine to hover his mouth next to your head. “You’ve been my problem. This entire time. You’ve driven me insane.” The long, forked, pink tongue flickered out to taste the air. “It’s been impossible to keep my hands still every time I get a whiff of you. You’re ooman. I shouldn’t even like you. This is all for formality.”

The grip tightened. His face inched closer to the crook of your neck. “I’ve imagined plenty of times about how I should go about this. But I can’t take it. I need you, little prey.” You shuttered out a whimpered and clenched your jaw tightly. By god’s grace, you shouldn’t be entertaining this, letting him even touch you. The feel of his hands on you was amazing.

Then, you steeled your emotions. One of your elbows strikes him in the exposed side and send him stepping back away from you. A firm look graced your features when you spun around to face Celtic.

In his bent over state, he picked up his head to find your fierce gaze. You whipped out a hand. Your fingers encircled his throat. With whatever power that drove you, you pushed his form back. He was forced back until the couch caught his legs. The towering figure tipped over and landed onto the cushions you. A grin cracked your features. You climbed into his lap and straddled his large hips. Everything about him was larger than life. It would be a challenge, but you didn’t care. Not at this point.

Your hand still held tightly onto his throat. Celtic looked at your commanding form and let you take control. “Guess what, you’ve been my problem this entire time too. Being a bitch every time I do something.” You sat up higher and made him look up at you slightly. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to wring out your neck. You standing around like a weirdo, with this sculpted body.”

Bright, yellow eyes watched your every move. The Yautja was intrigued with what you were doing. Your other hand palmed at his abs to make your point to him.

A deep grumbled escaped his throat, vibrating against your palm. “And what are you going to do about it?” he challenged, a glint filling his eyes.

Instantly, your anger flared wider than a solar flare. You leaned in close enough to feel the breath of his. “I’m going to rip off your fucking pants,” you said more as a question rather than a statement. You wanted his consent, hoping not to be reading off the wrong signs of this whole situation. That would make this ten times worse than before.

One of his mandibles quirked up. “Best of luck, little prey.” Your teeth grounded against one another. He chuckled nonchalantly. You ripped your hand off his throat and used both to unbuckle his pants. It was easy to figure out how they open and tugged them down enough to expose the slick slit of his sheath.

This was something you weren’t going to admit but you did some research on their anatomy. They had a sheath compared to everything hanging out, including internal testicles. You were jealous of their anatomy and wish humans had that.

A smirk broke across your features. “What’s this I see? Mister high and mighty is aroused from a little human being dominate, isn’t that right?” you taunted the beast of an alien underneath you. Your thumb ran along the wetness of his slit and barely pressed against it.

Two hands grasped at your hips again and pulled you down to grind against his groin. You choked on a gasp and slapped your hands down on his shoulders. Celtic rutted his hips up against your clothed crotch. Immediately, your dick began to stir to life, hidden away in your pants. A bulge began to form at the stimulation.

“Does the little human think he can take charge? When I could easily pin you down and take you on the floor like some animal?” Celtic snarled and tilted your hips just enough so the side of your cock rubbed against his open pants. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent a moan from escaping. Pleasure raced up the base of your spine. “Pants. Off. Now.” There was a slight hint in his voice that gave you the chance to back out.

You struggled out of your pants until they were on the floor. Your cock was erect and throbbing at the lack of attention.

The Yautja purred at the sight, hands palming at your exposed thighs. Long, black claws dragged across the skin and left behind red marks in their wake. He grasped the globes of your ass and lifted you up against his chest. You scrambled to hold onto his shoulders for purchase. The length of your cock rubbed against the muscle of his torso. Your toes curled at the feeling of pleasure again.

He used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. You were forced to lean against him for support and gazed down at him. “Now, do you want this knot inside of you or not?” You took the hint to reach down and encircled your hand around his pulsing cock. It was hot to the touch and wet from his shaft.

The pointed head poked at your exposed hole. You couldn’t stop the way you tensed at the feeling. He was large in stature and size. There was without a doubt this would hurt. But you wanted it. To teach him a lesson. Because fuck him. You were about to. You gritted your teeth then sank down.

Only the head was able to fit on the first try. Your body desperately wanted to curl in on itself when the ache hit you hard. It took all of your power not to. The beast snarled, claws digging into your malleable flesh and created dents in your skin. But, he didn’t notice nor cared. Celtic used his superior strength to force you down while also thrusting his hips up.

Skin slapping against echoed in the shared space around the two of you. A high-pitched keen left your cracked lips. You leaned back to rest your hands on his thighs and hold on. In his eyes, a dangerous looked entered them. You clenched around the intrusion inside of you. His irises darkened. His grip caused blood to trickle down your fragile skin. The pain of that was the last thing on your mind. You knew instantly by the expression he held you were in for it. Your jaw stayed tense, gritting your teeth against one another.

The slow drag of his cock out of your stretched, abused hole had you feeling more sensitive than ever before. Celtic slammed you down and kept the pace like that. You were being used as a flesh light for him. Every noise you made echoed back at you. It sounded like sin and heavenly sex at the same time. Your moans loud and needy as his entire length rubbed against your prostate, never leaving the pleasure spot alone.

Each bounce caused your cock to slap against each other’s stomach. The sensitive tip grew flush with blood. Pre leaked out and wettened both of your skins. It was dirty and needy all at the same time.

All you could do was brace on his knees and relax your muscles. Yet, when the pain finally waned, you pushed off of them and fumbled against his chest. The Yautja growled his warning. Not like you cared.

You were able to stable yourself on his torso before starting to meet each of his thrusts. He looked nearly as much as a mess as you were. “Can’t, ah, can’t handle it, Celtic?” you taunt him with an shit eating grin. Said male narrowed his gaze on you, thrusts messing up slightly. “Thought you were all, all game and whatnot? But, you truly can’t handle a human’s ass. Little bitch.”

His claws continued to draw blood freely from your skin. Celtic stopped. The only sound in the room was the combined panting from the two of you. His bright eyes were nearly a dark shade of yellow. It was scary.

“Oh, little prey. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He leaned into your personal space, panting hot air on your neck. “I have more stamina than you. You’ll be a whining, crying mess by the time I run through your ass. You won’t have anything left in your balls,” he challenged back, tongue flickering out again.

With an arm, you curl it around the back of his neck and tried to rise up higher on your knees. “I don’t think you’ll even last more than a round. You’ll be drooling by the first time you come. And, you’ll come quick. So pathetic.” His hands were so tight around your waist, it was impossible to move. Instead, you reached between the two of you and grasped at your own aching cock. You spat into your hand and started to stroke yourself in need of relief.

“Say’s the one-“ he lets you rise “-needily stroking himself in my lap.” He forces your form back down on his shaft. You screamed out and nearly pinched the base of your cock. The motion causes you to fall on to his torse, still pumping away. “See? Pathetic. Still jerking off with a cock deep inside of him. Such a needy, little ooman. Greedy little hole, needing my cock to fill it.”

The muscles on his stomach are chiseled. You pressed one side of your cock with a palm on his abs and thrusted against his toned muscles. A whined surged passed your lips. “S-shut up,” you snarked back weakly, not caring as much as before. Not with the edge growing near. “Fuck, yeah. Gonna come. I’m gon-gonna make a mess all over you. Teach yo-you a lesson.” It won’t work. You hoped it wouldn’t work.

Celtic grinned widely with his mandibles and angled his hips. Each thrust forced his length to slide against your prostate with all the strength he has. “Teach me a lesson? Sure. The lesson is how tight a ooman’s ass is. So fucking tight. I can’t wait to knot you.” You keened and quickened your thrusts. “There you go, desperate whore. Needing an alien to fuck you in the ass to get you to shut up.”

“I wish I had known that when I met you. Would’ve done it a long time ago,” he snarled, voice growing deep with each word.

At this point, you couldn’t think straight. The pleasure was rampant. It took over every sense you had. All you knew was the need to come. You came hard.

With a choked scream, head bowed down into his chest, cum spurted from the head of your dick and coated his entire torso. Each thrust only caused more to cover him. Your length throbbed hard, trying to soak Celtic. You mewled and squirmed in his hold, trying to get him to ease up. That only seemed to spur him on more. He somehow quickened his pace.

The skin on the back’s of your thighs and ass were going to be so sore tomorrow. You knew sitting down was going to be next to impossible. He held you place though, not allowing you any reprieve from his assault. “You’re going to take my cock like the good little prey you are. Fucking take it!” he snarled and grounded his hips against yours one last time.

Hot, thick spurts of cum filled you. A thick ball of flesh plugged you up, sealing every drop of Celtic’s seed inside of you. You were a limp mess on his torso, unable to even raise your head.

He collapsed against the couch with a deep, content purr that vibrated throughout his entire body. Strong, massive hands petted down your sweaty back. “Paya, I can tell it’s going to take forever for my knot to go down.” Shit, right… Yautja’s have knots. That’s why you felt fuller than normal. You groaned and rubbed your face against his similarly sweaty chest.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and stayed against him. It maybe sticky and a little gross. Yet, with his knot pressing against your prostate, you were trying not to go into overstimulation.

A chuckle left the creature’s chest. Celtic ran a hand from the base of your spine all the way to your neck. Said limb stayed there and cradled you close him. Your eyes shut, letting the dopamine fill your veins.

[astra-ravana]

Celebrating Samhain

Samhain, pronounced "SAH-win", is the eighth Sabbat and final spoke on the Wheel of the Year. With ancient Celtic origins, Samhain was one of the four fire festivals, and falls at the halfway point between the Autumn Equinox ans Winter Solstice. Opposing Beltane on the Wheel, Samhain also similarly features a 'thinning of the Veil', a time when the barrier between our world and that of spirits and other magickal entities is weakened and easier to cross. While Beltane famously is a strong time to interact with the Fae due to the Veil thinning, Samhain is most known for interactions with spiritual entities, the dead, and ancestors.

Samhain is also known as the third and final Harvest Festival (the first being Lughnasadh, and the second Mabon). The frost is coming, and most of the produce has been collected from the fields and stored away. As people prepared for oncoming harsh weather and lack of food/resources, they had to cut back on everything that wasn't crucial to their survival. Thus, this festival was the time of the animal harvest. All creatures who could not be fed through the harsh Winter were harvested during this time, and celebrated for their sacrifice.

Other names for Samhain and similar celebrations include:

• Halloween

• All Hallow's Eve

• The Witch's New Year

• The Third/Final Harvest

• Calan Gaeaf, "The First Day Of Winter"

• Oiche Shamnhna

• All Soul's Day

• All Saint's Day

• Devil's Night

Common Samhain Traditions

• The Dumb Supper is when a meal is hosted and consumed by the living, but the dead and spirits are invited to participate and given seats and places at the table as a sign of respect. Often the windows are all open during a Dumb Supper to invite the spirits into a home. Sometimes specific spirits or ancestors are invited or the invitation is simply left open to any spirits that wish to attend. The living attendants traditionally eat in silence to honor the spirits and hear their messages.

• Carving Jack-O-Lanterns originally came from the myth of "Stringy Jack", which is an Irish folktale about a man who tricked the Devil and now has to wander the world with a lit piece of coal protected inside a carved turnip. This evolved into people carving their own turnips and potatoes and placing them in windows or doorways to scare away Stringy Jack and other tricky or potentially harmful spirits. Once Irish immigrants came to America, the tradition was continued with pumpkins.

• Trick-Or-Treating is also derived from old Samhain traditions. The Celts believed that by dressing up they were disguising themselves from negative spirits who wandered the Earth on Samhain. In the Middle-Ages, "guising" was when children or impoverished people would dress in costumes and go door-to-door begging for food in exchange for songs or prayers. This practice was known as "souling" and the participants called "soulers". In Ireland, the practice of "mumming" involved dressing up in costumes and going door-to-door to sing in exchange for tasty cakes and baked goods.

Samhain Correspondences

Colors:

• Black

• Green

• Orange

• Purple

• Red

• Silver

Crystals:

• Black Obsidian

• Bloodstone

• Amethyst

• Black Tourmaline

• Carnelian

• Jasper

• Jet

• Malachite

• Iolite

• Onyx

• Vivianite

• Ruby

• Smokey Quartz

• Garnet

Herbs/Plants:

• Cedar

• Allspice

• Cinnamon

• Hemlock

• Sage

• Rosemary

• Patchouli

• Hazel

• Dittany of Crete

• Bay

• Clove

• Belladonna

• Dragon's Blood

• Wormwood

• Mandrake

• Mugwort

• Snapdragon

• Gourds

• Nutmeg

• Frankincense

• Ginger

• Pine

• Hyssop

• Marigold

Animals:

• Bats

• Snakes

• Cats

• Spiders

• Scorpions

• Coyotes

• Jackals

• Dogs

• Wolves

• Foxes

• Crows

• Ravens

• Owls

• Rats

• Stags

Food/Drink:

• Pumpkins

• Cider

• Beef

• Chicken

• Pork

• Cranberries

• Turnips

• Potatoes

• Garlic

• Soups/stews

• Pears

• Corn

• Ale

• Apples

• Grain

• Pies

Deities:

• Hekate

• Lucifer

• Anubis

• Loki

• Lilith

• Morrigan

• Nyx

• Hades

• Persephone

• Osiris

• Apollo

• Cerridwen

• Hel

• Freya

• Demeter

• Bast

• Mercury

• Yama

• Dis

• Herne

Magickal Workings:

• Spirit Work

• Ancestral Work

• Banishing

• Cleansing

• Divination

• Baneful Magick

• Shadow Work

• Rebirth/Resurrection

• Transformation

• Creativity

• Defensive Magick

• Preparation

• Ambition

• Purification

• Protection

Bonus: Samhain Incense Recipe

• 2 parts Rosemary

• 1 part Frankincense

• 1 part Cinnamon

• 1 part Cloves

• 1 part Patchouli

• 1/2 part Sage

• 1/4 part Hyssop

• Pinch of Sea Salt

[whencyclopedia]

The White Horse of Uffington

The cutting of huge figures or geoglyphs into the turf of English hillsides has been going on for more than 3000 years. There are 56 hill figures scattered around England, with the vast majority on the chalk downlands of the southern part of the country. The figures include giants, horses, crosses and regimental badges. Though the majority of these glyphs date within the last three hundred years or so there are one or two that are much older.

The most famous of these figures is perhaps also the most mysterious, the Uffington White Horse in Oxfordshire. The White Horse has recently been redated and shown to be even older than its previously assigned ancient pre-Roman Iron Age date. More controversial are the Cerne Abbot Giant in Dorset and the enigmatic Long Man of Wilmington in Sussex. What was the purpose of these giant figures, who carved them, and how have the oldest examples survived for perhaps thousands of years?

The method of cutting these huge figures was simply to remove the overlying turf to reveal the gleaming white chalk below.

The method of cutting these huge figures was simply to remove the overlying turf to reveal the gleaming white chalk below. However, the grass would soon grow over the glyph again unless it was regularly cleaned or scoured by a fairly large team of men and women. One reason that the vast majority of hill figures have disappeared is that when the traditions associated with the figures faded, people no longer bothered or remembered to clear away the grass to expose the chalk outline. Furthermore, over hundreds of years the outlines would sometimes change due to the scourers not always cutting in exactly the same place, thus changing the shape of the original glyph.

The fact that any ancient hill figures survive at all in England today is testament to the strength and continuity of local customs and beliefs which, in one case at least, must stretch back over millennia.

The White Horse of Uffington

The oldest and most famous hill figure in England is the 110 m long and 40 m high Uffington White Horse, located 2.5 km south of the village of Uffington on the Berkshire Downs, Oxfordshire. This unique stylized representation of a horse consists of a long sleek back, thin disjointed legs, a streaming tail, and bird-like beaked head. The elegant creature almost melts into a landscape rich in prehistoric sites. The Horse is situated on a steep escarpment, close to the Late Bronze Age (c. 7th century BCE) hillfort of Uffington Castle and below a long distance Neolithic Track called the Ridgeway.

[image:357]

The Uffington Horse is also surrounded by Neolithic and Bronze Age burial mounds. It is only 1.6 km from the Neolithic Chambered long barrow of Wayland's Smithy and not far from the Bronze Age cemetery of Lambourn Seven Barrows. The carving has been placed in such a way as to make it extremely difficult to see from close quarters, and like many geoglyphs it is best appreciated from the air. Nevertheless, there are certain areas of the Vale of the White Horse, the valley containing and named after the enigmatic creature, from which an adequate impression may be gained. Indeed on a clear day the carving can be seen from up to 30km away.

The earliest documentary reference to a Horse at Uffington is from the 1070's CE when 'White Horse Hill' is mentioned in Charters from the nearby Abbey of Abingdon, and the first reference to the Horse itself is soon after, in 1190 CE. However, the carving is believed to date back much further than that. Due to the similarity of the Uffington White Horse to the stylized depictions of horses on 1st century BCE Celtic coins, it had been thought that the creature must also date to that period.

Scientific Dating of the Horse

However, in 1995 CE Optically Stimulated Luminescence (OSL) testing was carried out by the Oxford Archaeological Unit on soil sediments from two of the lower layers of the Horses body, and from another cut near the base. The result was a date for the Horse's construction somewhere between 1400 and 600 BCE, in other words it had a Late Bronze Age or Early Iron Age origin. The latter end of this date range would tie the carving of the Horse in with occupation of the adjacent Uffington hillfort, and may perhaps represent a tribal emblem or symbol marking the land of the inhabitants of the hillfort. Alternatively, the carving may have been created for ritual / religious purposes.

Cult & Mythology

Some researchers see the Horse as representing the Celtic horse goddess Epona, who was worshipped as a protector of horses, and also had associations with fertility. However, the cult Epona was imported from Gaul (France) probably in the first century CE, which is when we find the first depictions of the horse goddess. This date is at least six centuries after the Uffington horse was carved. Nevertheless, the horse was of great ritual and economic importance during the Bronze and Iron Ages, as attested by its depictions on jewellery, coins and other metal objects. Perhaps the carving represents a native British horse-goddess, such as Rhiannon, described in later Welsh mythology as a beautiful woman dressed in gold and riding a white horse.

Some researchers see the Horse as representing the Celtic horse goddess Epona, who was worshipped as a protector of horses, & also had associations with fertility.

Others, however, see the White Horse as connected with the worship of Belinos or Belinus, 'the shining one', a Celtic sun god often associated with horses. Bronze and Iron Age sun chariots, mythological representations of the sun in a chariot, were shown as being pulled by horses, as can be seen from the 14th century BCE example from Trundholm in Denmark. If, as is now believed, the Celts were settled in Britain at the latest by the end of the Bronze Age, then the White Horse could still be interpreted as a Celtic horse-goddess symbol.

An Ancient Dragon?

There are some who believe that the great carving does not represent a horse at all but a dragon. A legend connected with Dragon Hill, a low natural flat-topped mound situated in the valley below the White Horse, suggests that the Horse depicts the mythical dragon slain by St. George on that hill. The blood of the dying dragon was supposed to have been spilled on Dragon Hill, leaving a bare white chalk scar where to this day no grass will grow. Perhaps the St. George connection with the White Horse is a confused memory of some strange prehistoric ritual performed on Dragon Hill by its creators, perhaps as long as three thousand years ago.

Up until the late 19th century CE the White Horse was scoured every year, as part of a two day Midsummer country fair, which also included traditional games and merrymaking. Nowadays the accompanying festival has gone and the task of maintaining the Horse is undertaken by English Heritage, the organisation responsible for the site, the last scouring taking place on June 24, 2000 CE.

Why were Hill Figures Created?

The reasons for the creation of these hill figures are probably as varied as the figures represented. New archaeological and geological evidence is increasingly indicating a medieval date for the giant naked human figures, which some historians have argued were products of an age of civil war and extreme political turmoil in England, when satire was sometimes the only weapon. Compared to the huge stone permanence of structures like the Avebury Monuments and Stonehenge, hill figures are much more transitory, ten or twenty years without scouring and the carving could be lost forever.

The fact that the figures could disappear so easily, along with their associated rituals and meaning, indicates that they were never intended to be anything more than temporary gestures, which have only survived either by accident, or in the case of the White Horse of Uffington, by the continued existence of extraordinary tenacious local tradition. But this does not lessen their importance. These giant carvings are a fascinating glimpse into the lives and minds of their creators and how they viewed the landscape in which they lived.

In June 2010 CE vandals sprayed part of the White Horse with purple paint. A banner that read 'fathers 4 justice stop the secret family courts' was recovered from the site by police, although the Fathers 4 Justice organization denied any connection with the senseless act. Fortunately, the monument was restored by National Trust workers soon afterwards, and at least one has the satisfaction of knowing that the White Horse will still be galloping across the Berkshire Downs long after those responsible for the vandalism are laid under the sod.

Continue reading...

[funeral]

Celtic tradition holds that the earth’s geography contains “thin places.” Heaven and earth are only three feet apart, the adage goes, but in such liminal zones, the distance is even less. Thin places are thought to be those areas where the temporal and spiritual converge, where the invisible and visible worlds coalesce. It could be a mountain or a river, some geographic axis, some threshold of rock, earth, or water, some pleat in the river or fold in the land that has the capacity to advance human spirit. It might be a place that becomes the site for a temple or monastery or shrine, but it could just as well be the snow settling on a frozen lake, an eclipsed sky, an unexpected conversation. Thin places refer not simply to geographic features but to how these allow people spatial and psychic realignment.

Akiko Busch, How to Disappear

[witchboxco]

Samhain Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Samhain is the Celtic festival that marks the end of the harvest season and the thinning of the veil between the living and the spirit world. It's a time to honor your ancestors, connect with the spirit world, and plan ahead for months of darkness.

Altar Ideas

Altar Cloth: Choose dark, earthy colors like black, deep purple, or dark green to set the foundation for your altar.

Candles: Black or orange candles represent the energies of Samhain. You can also include white or silver candles for purification and connection to the spirit realm.

Seasonal Fruits: Apples, pomegranates, and grapes are commonly associated with Samhain and can be offered as symbols of the harvest.

Fallen Leaves: Gather fallen leaves, especially those with vibrant autumn colors, to represent the changing seasons and the cycle of life and death.

Acorns and Nuts: These symbolize the potential for new beginnings and growth and can be placed on your altar to honor the harvest.

Pumpkins and Gourds: Decorate your altar with small pumpkins and gourds, which are quintessential symbols of autumn and Samhain.

Ancestral Photos: Include photographs of deceased loved ones to honor and connect with your ancestors.

Ancestral Mementos: Heirlooms, jewelry, or items that belonged to your ancestors can serve as a link to their energy and presence.

Divination Tools: Samhain has historically been a time for divination to predict the upcoming year. Tarot cards, runes, a crystal ball, pendulum, or scrying mirror can be placed on your altar for Samhain divination and communication with the spirit world.

Crystals and Gemstones: Obsidian, onyx, amethyst, or garnet.

Broom (Besom): Place a besom on or near your altar to symbolize the act of sweeping away negativity and making room for positive energy and transformation.

Incense and Smudging Materials: frankincense, myrrh, or sage.

Offering Dishes: Use special dishes or bowls to hold offerings for your ancestors or spirit guides, such as food, drink, or tokens of appreciation.

Seasonal Flowers: Add fresh or dried flowers that are in bloom during the fall, like marigolds, chrysanthemums, asters, or dried lavender.

Personal Letters or Messages: Write letters or messages to your deceased loved ones, expressing your thoughts and feelings. Place these on your altar as a form of communication.

Symbols of Death and Rebirth: Skulls, bones, or representations of the God and Goddess in their transition from one phase to another.

Bells or Wind Chimes: These can be rung to invite and communicate with spirits, serving as a way to signal your intentions and presence.

Samhain Correspondences

Colors: Black, Orange, Red

Deities: The Morrigan, Hecate, Persephone, Cernunnos

Herbs: Mugwort, Cinnamon, Rosemary, Tobacco, Pumpkin Seeds, Rue, Wormwood.

Foods and Offerings: Apples, nuts, pumpkins, mulled cider, pomegranates. A silent dumb supper may be held to celebrate the harvest and connect with departed loved ones.

Intentions: New beginnings, transformation, death and rebirth, reflection, ancestral connection, spiritual protection, divination.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A rare cloudless picture of Ireland , from the lads in the International Space Station.

* * * *

I am the wind which breathes upon the sea, I am the wave of the ocean, I am the murmur of the billows. Amergin Glúingel, The Song of Amergin I hate much of what’s written about Celtic spirituality. Dreamscapes of ancestors who lived at one with the earth are drawn without any question about how they ate, where they shat, how they grieved or fought. It is all well and good to think about the thin places where the living and the dead interacted, but what about the winter? I heard a retreat leader – a visitor who spoke not a word of Irish – speak about a valley in Wicklow once. Wicklow is known as the garden of Ireland. It has heathers that are purple and green and yellow and moss brown. “Look at the inherent spirituality of the valley,” he said. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I thought. Landscapes don’t have spirituality; this one had heather, or, in Irish fraoch. It comes from a word meaning rage, or fury, or fierceness. Fraoch is gorgeous on the eye, tough for eating. I wondered about people –from thousands of years back – from that valley. It must have been admired for generations, beauty in the eyes of the ancestral beholders. But what animals would thrive in such thick bracken? What could a mammal eat from there without ripping its tongue? What farmers farmed there? What invaders claimed there? Where is the blood spilt? Who has wept there? Who ran away from there? What is the story that the landscape has held? If we are to speak about spirituality, we must speak about breathing and dying. Spirit, from spirare, meaning to breathe. To be spiritual is to breathe, to be unspiritual is to die; it is the most concrete thing we can think of. After you die, you die. * * * And then you show up in dreams, but we know that already. * * * © 2019 The Lutterworth Press

SAMPLE  :: The Place Between 

— Pádraig Ó Tuama

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Scents of Samhain OC Ask List.

Celebrated from October 31st to November 1st, Samhain heralds the end of the harvest season and the onset of winter, or what the Celts considered the “darker half” of the year. As one of the major Celtic fire festivals, Samhain holds a place of significant importance, marking a period when the veil between worlds is thin and spirits are more likely to make an appearance.

Patchouli: Grounding, protection, and spiritual growth.

What does your OC use to anchor themselves emotionally during times of stress, or when they are feeling afraid? Do they think of a specific person? Focus upon their religious faith? Reflect upon a firmly held belief? Or something else?

Does your OC have any particular rituals or actions they perform for good luck, perhaps before embarking upon a risky venture or new activity?

How in touch is your OC with the spiritual beliefs and traditions of their culture of origin? Have they ever moved away from these? Perhaps only to return to them later?

How protective is your OC of those about whom they care? Does this ever come across as controlling or stifling? Or do they provide a quietly reassuring presence?

Are there specific times or places where your OC feels particular in touch with things beyond the everyday - whether the divine, the occult or the world of the dead.

Cinnamon: Warmth, prosperity, and vitality.

Does your OC enjoy feeling cosy? Perhaps being snuggled in blankets or wrapped in furs? If so, then is this something that they get to enjoy very often? And is it something about which they are quite private?

Is your OC someone who tends to store resources to get through the winter (or times of hardship in general)? Or are they more inclined to assume that things will work themselves out somehow - or even rely upon the generosity of others?

Does your OC feel more energetic or motivated during warmer seasons or when in hotter climates? Conversely, do they feel inclined to "hibernate" during colder weather?

Is your OC someone who enjoys feasting and carousing? If so then are they likely to be hosting such an event? Or more likely to be attending as a guest? If they don't enjoy such things, then what is the reason for their aversion?

Is your OC generally quite healthy? Or do they often come down with colds and minor ailments? Are they perhaps even a bit of a hypochondriac?

Nutmeg: Clarity, spiritual fortitude, and insight.

Would those who know your OC describe them as being rational and clear-thinking? Or are their thoughts often muddied by conflicting emotions? Or are they easily distracted by irrelevant details?

Does your OC find it easy to explain their views and opinions? Or do they find themselves grasping for the right words? Or perhaps stumbling over how to phrase something?

Is your OC easily able to empathise with others? Can they put themselves in someone else's shoes? Or are the motives and actions of others frequently a mystery to them?

Does your OC have the courage of their convictions? Or are they often beset by self-doubt or paralysed by indecision?

Was there a specific event or conversation which opened your OC's eyes to a particular reality? Do they ever regret learning the truth and feel nostalgic for their former innocence?

Clove: Safety, cleansing, and amiability.

Is your OC someone who makes those around them feel safe? Or is there something about them which others can find rather unsettling? If so, then is this the case constantly, or only in certain circumstances?

Is your OC generally easy-going? Or are they sometimes fussy, irritable or curmudgeonly? What tends to put them into a bad mood? Are they good at concealing the fact? Do they even try?

How important is cleanliness to your OC? Are they keen to wash and bathe as often as possible? Or can they go for extended periods without being troubled by any social expectations around personal hygiene?

When away from the comfort and convenience of amenities such as baths and showers, how does your OC keep themselves clean and fresh? If they do at all?

What does safety mean to your OC? Is it emotional or financial security? Or protection from physical harm? Is safety something for which they aim - either for themselves or others?

Frankincense: Connection, introspection, and purification.

Is your OC prone to introspection? Or do they not often look within themselves? If so then is this purely by inclination, or do they fear what they might discover?

What makes your OC feel an instant sense of connection to another person? A shared sense of humour? A common cultural heritage? Enjoyment of the same activities?

Is your OC a model of purity and innocence? Or are they prone to bawdy humour, sexual innuendos and cynical retorts? Perhaps they give the appearance of purity, but underneath things are a great deal murkier?

Does your OC ever do things and then afterwards find it hard to explain why they acted the way that they did? Or are they always clear on why they spoke or behaved in a certain way, even if they choose not to admit it to others?

Is your OC someone who other people consider easy to get to know? Are they, in fact, quite wrong about this?

Myrrh: Meditation, spiritual awareness, and grief.

Does your OC believe that their ancestors or dead relatives watch over them? Does this bring them comfort? Or would they actually rather they didn't?

Is your OC able to sit in silence with their own thoughts? Are they able to clear their mind and meditate? Or would they quickly become fidgety or bored?

Is there a particular date or season when your OC is more likely to reflect upon grief and loss? If they are grieving for a specific person then do they find times such as anniversaries or namedays particularly difficult?

To what degree is your OC mindful of the religious and spiritual beliefs of others? Even if they do not share them?

Is your OC sensitive to locations where great loss or suffering took place? Do they believe they can sense the echoes of past events? Or are they oblivious? How do they respond emotionally to being in such places?

[yaut-jaknowit]

okay, okay, I got an idea for a while that you mightttttt enjoy

Basically, Nsfw idea lesgo 🔥, imagine an Elder just fucking you in a empty council room after a frustrating meeting (amab reader if you’re comfortable with it because i’m lowkey incapable of reading smut with any other gender💀)

Stress Reliever

Pairing: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Warnings: rough sex (usual for these guys), knotting (again), mlm sex, anal sex, abandoned cock, no foreplay, no prep (straight to the point), aftercare, hints of voyeurism, blood and biting, sort of cnc (concent giving but not said, agreed upon before story starts), use of ‘good boy’, light aftercare.

Word Count: 2101 (I wish this was longer)

Summary: Wolf is frustrated after a meeting gone wrong. He has to release that pent up anger some how. Oh, how generous of you to be in the room with him.

Author Note: I'm more than happy to write AMAB stuff for you! If there's anything incorrect in here, please let me know. I don't have the body parts soooo I tried! I know you like Celtic but he's not an elder so I hope Wolf is fine for you. I do love that old, grumpy elder. If only I could get my hands on him

Masterlist

Ao3

From his chair at the meeting table, you could feel the tension in his body. Strung tighter than a bow ready to snap. Halfway through the council meeting, Wolf had placed a heavy hand on your thigh, claws lightly biting into your flesh. The pressure grew over time till blood had been drawn at the conclusion of the meeting.

The mighty hunter ordered everyone out in an instant. His thundering voice echoing back at him like a storm ready to unleash its strength. A storm you were trapped in. The ridged grasp on your poor thigh had yet to waver, even as the last Yautja evacuate the council room.

It was only a breath before Wolf had strike like a predator on its prey. In one instant, Wolf pinned you, chest down, bent over the council table. His unbearable heat blanketed your feeble body. Chitters and snarls vibrated your back and raced up your neck, creating goosebumps in their wake. The elder had you promptly at his will.

A hand found its way to your hip, claws biting through the shirt to graze your skin. You shuttered at the feeling and released a shaky breath. Those unsteady noises were drowned out by the heady, dominating growl that had blood rushing to your undeniable growing shaft. “Wo-Wolf,” you breathed his name as if it was a sin to speak a decibel louder.

Warm, thin tresses created a partial curtain. Wolf’s hand on your hip tightened. “Paya,” he murmured barely above an inhale. Then, he tore the clothing covering your waist and legs clean off. The sudden rush of air hitting the exposed skin had you yelping, thighs clenching together. As if the male wouldn’t just pry them open if he wanted to.

In an uncoordinated, rushed move, Wolf slithered a hand to the back of your knee and jerked it up. Your leg was forced onto the table. The toes on your other foot scrapped, barely touching the ground now. He had you folded into the position he wanted.

You squirmed under his hefty, muscular weight for only a moment. The Yautja snarled and snatched the back of your neck. “Stay,” he bit a domineering command that shook you to your core. Your cock jumped and bumped into the table. A hiss coming from clenched teeth at how sensitive the tip had already become.

All you could mange was a whimper and weak nod, body resting pliantly on the stone table. Wolf stayed for a few moments before pulling his weight off of you. In this position, you weren’t able to fully see his figure from the corner of your vision.

His hips were pulled away from you. Sounds of metal and leather being mess with hit your ears. Before you had the chance to act upon thoughts of disobeying him, the Yautja returned in full force.

Thick, sticky, and hot. His shaft rested at the end of your tail bone and slowly slide across your soft skin. The weight was all too familiar. But, it always felt better inside, knotted, and milked dry.

One of his hands grabbed the entire of one globe and spread it. Your tight, although, plenty stretched hole, throbbed. Without hesitance, Wolf jerked his hips back and lined up the tip. The sharp head resting between the ring of muscles.

With a single thrust, the entire length was shoved inside of you. Despite the pain of the stretch, sounds of pleasures spilled from your lips like gold. A cry echoing back at you, ringing through the chambers like a choir. In the mixture of your own sounds came with the snarl and grunts of the lethal predator taking you. His hips slapping to yours in fervor, releasing all the pent anger of the last two hours.

“W-Wolf!” you sputtered his name, hands clawing at the stone underneath you. Your nails dragged across it and couldn’t find an ounce of purchase to ground you for a moment.

“Pauk-de take it! Take it, little mate!” he spat out harshly in the wild fury of his pounding thrusts. “Those tarei’hasan are clueless.” Wolf laid more of his weight on top of you which effectively crushed you. “They had no clue to how Kainde Amedha hunt.” Sharp, lethal fangs scrapped across the skin on your neck. “Know it all’s!”

A particular thrust had you seeing stars while your body began to shake. “And I get to you use you.” Wolf clamped down on the crook of your neck, drawing blood. “All mine to release my rage on.” When your muscles fluttered around him at that last sentence, his hips stuttered with a groan. “Yeah, you pauk-de don’t mind it. Pauk-de loving it.” You practically heard the smirk in his guttural voice.

Yet, the Yautja lost himself to his frustration and need for release now. The oh-so levelheaded male was drowned in his emotions he hadn’t felt the way you were tightening on his. The way his deflated knot was already catching on your muscles.

Time slowed for the seconds leading up to an exploding climax. Everything kept building up despite this all being about Wolf releasing his frustration. At the top of this razor sharp edge, you were shoved over without a care in the world. Your cock twitch as it burst out the first rope of cum onto the underside of the table onto the ground.

Wolf snarled deafeningly straight into your ear when he felt your walls capture him in a vice grip. It forced his hips to stutter to an exasperated speed. In the heat of the moment, a hand curled around you throat. He pressed you against his chest and snarled a deep growl.

The moment he could slip out, he did only to shove the entire length of him straight back into you. A sputtering, nonsensical blabber spilled from your drooling lips. The oversensitivity far greater than you were expecting. And, you didn’t want it to stop. He let loose like a cannon destroying a fleet. This wasn’t about you. Not in any way shape or form.

A Yautja in need of release of pent up, boiling rage.

At every new slam into you had your spent cock hitting the table. The shocks of oversensitivity had your mind reeling to grab at yourself. But your muscles were locked tight, making it hard to even breathe.

“I’m the Payasaken Kainde Amedha specialist! Knowing…” his words trailed off into Yautja. A deep, nasty Yautja that had you shivering at the sounds.

He straightened up. Both of his scaly hands groped at the flesh of your cheeks and spread them as far as possible. His fire-filled eyes zeroed down on the way your abused hole was forced to stretch wide at each thrust. The way his deflated knot was shoved in then pulled back in a manner that conveyed his rage. He craved the sight of this small, vulnerable ooman struggled to take his cock. You were already a mess of wasted, spent cum and sweat blanketed your skin.

He was far from done with you.

A shift of his hips had the sharp tip of his cock driving down into your prostate then the knot to press against it. The double whammy had your vision swimming as you squirmed wildly underneath him. The overstimulation growing nearly painful.

Wolf released a threatening snarl and draped his weight over you again. Once more, without choice, you were trapped underneath. “There’s no escaping this, mate. You’re going to take what I give you.” The hand around your throat had tightened to a point that slowed the blood flow to your brain. You being to the effects of lack blood to your brain quickly.

Even in a fervorish state, Wolf knew when to release the pressure on your throat just to do it all over again three more times. Until he could smell the tall tale sign of your climax rising again. A Cheshire grin on his alien face as his thrusts begin to lose their coordination. The predator focusing on short but powerful drivers of his hips.

The hand not around your throat slithered between the two of you to press down on the small of your back. Enough to tilt your hips further down. One thrust and it was done.

Electricity shot through the taunt body of the Yautja as he slammed his hips flush to you. He bellowed a mighty roar that could be heard through the halls. The ball of flesh that sat at the base of his heft shaft swelled with a rush of blood. Ropes of hot, burning cum was milked at each squeeze of your stretched walls.

The entire frame of muscle that towered over you rested upon you like a heavy blanket. Deep, guttural breaths came from the spent creature that had just plowed you. You whimpered at the feeling of your asshole on the verge of splitting from the size of his girthy knot locked inside of you. Not a single drop of cum to be spilt past the ball of flesh nestled within you.

Purrs poured from Wolf’s throat. Sweaty, well-worn palms stroked down you side in a calming manner. Scratchy shushes falling from his mouth. “Good… good little mate. Such a good boy. Taking my knot. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Until this point, you hadn’t realize your entire body was shivering from the oversensitivity he forced upon you. You couldn’t tell if your cock or hole ached worse. You whined.

“Paya, look at you,” he murmured and stayed above you. “The feeling of you tight around my knot drives me crazy.” Wolf let an arm to curl around your torso and timidly picked up. With the size difference, Wolf kept you suspended, toes unable to touch the ground. “Makes me want to pull out and take you all over again.”

In the haze of your mind, you felt him sit back down on his chair and put you in his lap. The two of you are trapped for the unforeseeable future. Your legs were spread to be on the outside of his legs, letting the empty room see the way he has filled you. Your spent shaft lying limp, resting where your thigh meets your torso.

The purr that still resonated from him vibrated along your skin. They sent a wave of goosebumps. Your head was lolled back to rest on his chest, eyes closed. Warm, rough hands soothed the skin on your inner thighs. “You’re still so tight, mate,” he purred straight into your ear. “No matter how many times I stretch you.”

For the moment, you could only airily huff and rolled your eyes. Claws ghost down your inner thighs to stop where your cock rested. When a hand swaddled the softened shaft, you stuttered a gasp and whined in discomfort.

His hand engulfed you and added a light pressure that had you squirming in his lap. “Look at you.” There was a Chesire grin planted on his face. Little, minute spurts of post-cum escaped and pathetically down the head only to be used as lube. Wolf softly twisted his wrist. You choked on air, body tensing up. A threatening snarl tearing from the elder’s throat as he locked his muscles. “At my hands wills.”

“Soon, I have another meeting.” Wolf’s words echoed in your brain. Your body locked up, eyes snapping open to thankfully found the room still empty. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way your cock jumped at the notion. “A magnificent sight of my knot locked deep inside of you. Something to walk into. Smell, taste,” he murmured lowly and gently stroked your deflated cock.

Sparks of hot, blazing electricity fired off of ever nerve in your body. Due to the knot still inside your stretched ass, there was no place to scuttle off to. Only you could just sit there and endure the hand stroking away at a teasing but maddening pace. Every sound made was consumed by the elder’s ears in an instant. All just for him.

Before he could push you too far into a dumb state, Wolf released his hold on you. Slowly, he reached over to grab an item then pressed it to your lips. “Drink,” he commanded. Unable to fully think, you just simply listened to his order. Your lips parting to consume the liquid provided for you.

Once he was satisfied with your intake, Wolf pulled the glass away and discarded it on the table. A purr started back up like an old farm truck to vibrate your bones. You laid there, content from his hands softly petting you.

[whencyclopedia]

Celtic Bronze Shields

The ancient Celts produced magnificent bronze shields in Iron Age Britain which were most likely for ceremonial purposes and display. Several fine examples have miraculously survived as evidence of the imagination, skill, and artistry of Celtic craftworkers. The outstanding example is the Battersea Shield, now in the British Museum, but there are several other complete bronze shields and bosses which amply illustrate that the Celts commonly decorated shields whether they were intended for battle, display, or as votive offerings.

Celtic Shields - Design & Function

Celtic warriors had distinctive shields which were most often large and oval or rectangular in shape. These shields were made of wood and leather with buckles in metal with a central boss for added strength. The reverse side typically had one handhold. Such shields are frequently represented in art from the Gundestrup Cauldron to figurines of warrior gods. The Greek historian Diodorus Siculus, writing in the 1st century BCE, described Celtic shields as:

...man-sized shields decorated according to individual taste. Some of these have projecting figures in bronze skilfully made not only for decoration but also for protection.

(in Allen, 22).

Another category of shields was those made not for the battlefield but to impress off it. Such shields were made from sheets of bronze and are so thin and fragile as to be of no practical use in actual Celtic warfare: the millimetres-thick bronze could have easily been slashed by a sword blade. However, some bronze facings would have originally been attached to a wooden or leather backing for greater strength. These shields were probably carried in processions and important tribal events as they displayed the wealth and power of the Celtic rulers who were the most likely owners of them. Buried in the tombs of such important figures or given as votive offerings in religious rituals, remarkably, several of these shields have survived for posterity. They were typically found by accident by workers and not archaeologists. As the historians J. Farley and F. Hunter state:

Many of our finest pieces of Celtic art are chance finds like this, often from wet or out-of-the-way locations such as rivers, bogs, lakes or mountains. These were not just casual losses; it is unlikely people would be so repeatedly careless with such valuable things. It is also unlikely they were buried for safekeeping; a river is not a good place in which to hide something. These items were deliberately deposited, perhaps as sacrifices to unknown gods, during rites of passage, or to seal agreements between individuals or groups. (103)

Continue reading...

[talonabraxas]

Kernunnos 𐂂 Talon Abraxas

Samhain Deities

As Samhain marks the thinning of the veil between worlds, various deities associated with death, rebirth, and transformation are honored. While the deities listed below are commonly revered during Samhain, traditions vary widely, and many practitioners may choose to honor other gods or spirits that resonate more closely with their personal or cultural beliefs.

The Morrigan (Celtic – Ireland)

The Morrigan, often appearing as a trio of goddesses, represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. As a warrior goddess, she presides over fate, especially foretelling death in battle. Her connection to death and transformation makes her particularly revered during Samhain.

Cernunnos (Celtic – Gaul)

Known as the ‘Horned God’ and associated with wild and forested areas, Cernunnos is often invoked during Samhain for his connection to the cycle of life and death. He is a mediator between humans and nature, and between the physical and spiritual worlds.

Hecate (Greek)

Hecate is the Greek goddess of witchcraft, magic, crossroads, and the spirit world. Given her ability to communicate with the dead and travel between worlds, her influence is especially powerful during Samhain, when the veil between worlds is thinnest.

The Cailleach (Celtic – Scotland and Ireland)

The Cailleach is a divine hag, often associated with winter. During Samhain, she starts her reign, wielding her staff to freeze the ground. However, she is not just a winter goddess; she also embodies the cycle of death and rebirth.

Hel (Norse)

Hel is the Norse goddess of the underworld, who presides over those who die of illness or old age. Her domain, also named Hel, is a place of peace and rest where the dead await rebirth, reflecting the themes of Samhain.

Anubis (Egyptian)

Although not a traditional deity of Samhain, some modern pagan practices have incorporated Anubis due to his role as the Egyptian god of death and mummification. He is known for guiding souls in the afterlife, fitting the theme of spirit communication during Samhain.

[the-hermit-at-midnight]

Celebrating Samhain

Samhain, also known as Samhuinn or Calan Gaeaf in Welsh, is a time of profound transformation and spiritual significance. It marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is said to be thinnest.   

Historical and Cultural Significance

The origins of Samhain can be traced back to pre-Christian Celtic cultures. It was a time for honoring the ancestors, appeasing the spirits, and preparing for the harsh winter months ahead. Bonfires were lit to ward off evil spirits, and feasts were held to celebrate the abundance of the harvest.

Celtic Beliefs and Practices

The Celts were a polytheistic people who believed in a pantheon of gods and goddesses. They lived in close harmony with nature and had a deep respect for the cycles of the seasons. Samhain marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, a time of darkness and death.

According to Celtic beliefs, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was believed to be thinnest on Samhain. This allowed spirits of the deceased to return to the earth and interact with the living. To appease the spirits and ward off evil influences, bonfires were lit, and offerings were made.

Celtic Festivals and Customs

Samhain was one of the two most important festivals in the Celtic calendar, along with Beltane. Both festivals were associated with fire, and it was believed that fire had the power to purify and protect.

Bonfires: Bonfires were a central feature of Samhain celebrations. They were believed to have the power to ward off evil spirits and to provide warmth and light in the darkness of winter.

Offerings: Offerings of food, drink, and other items were made to the spirits of the dead. These offerings were often placed on the altar or thrown into the bonfire.

Costumes: It is believed that the tradition of wearing costumes on Halloween may have originated from Samhain. People would dress up as spirits and demons to scare away evil influences.

Divination: Divination practices were common on Samhain. People would use various methods, such as reading tea leaves or throwing bones, to predict the future.

In modern times, Samhain continues to be celebrated by many people, including Wiccans, Pagans, and those who simply appreciate the rich cultural heritage of the Celtic people.

The Symbolism of Samhain

Death and Rebirth: Samhain is a time of endings and beginnings. It symbolizes the death of the old year and the rebirth of the new.

The Thinning Veil: It is believed that on Samhain, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its thinnest, allowing spirits to cross over.

The Wheel of the Year: Samhain is one of the eight major festivals in the Celtic Wheel of the Year, representing the turning of the seasons.

Celebrating Samhain

As druid, celebrating Samhain involves connecting with the natural world, honoring the ancestors, and reflecting on the cycle of life and death. Here are some in-depth ideas:

Create a Sacred Space: Decorate your home or a special outdoor area with autumnal symbols such as leaves, pumpkins, and candles. Consider incorporating elements from nature, such as stones, feathers, or pine cones.

Honor the Ancestors: Create a memorial altar to remember loved ones who have passed. Light candles, offer libations, or leave small gifts.

Connect with Nature: Spend time in nature, such as taking a walk in the woods, collecting autumn leaves, or meditating by a body of water. Pay attention to the changing of the seasons and the natural cycles around you.

Divination: Samhain is an excellent time for divination practices. Try scrying in a bowl of water, reading tarot cards, or casting runes.

Feast: Enjoy a feast of seasonal foods, such as apples, nuts, and pumpkin. Consider incorporating traditional Celtic foods into your meal.

Rituals and Ceremonies: Create your own Samhain ritual or participate in a group celebration. You might include elements such as lighting a bonfire, offering sacrifices, or performing sacred dances.

A Samhain Ritual

Materials:

A small altar or table

A white candle

A black candle

A bowl of water

A handful of autumn leaves

A piece of paper and a pen

A small offering (e.g., a piece of bread, a pinch of salt)

Instructions:

Set up the altar: Place the white and black candles on the altar, representing light and darkness, respectively. Place the bowl of water, leaves, and offering on the altar.

Meditation: Sit quietly and reflect on the past year. What have you learned? What do you want to release?

Offerings: Place the offering on the altar as a symbol of gratitude and respect.

Divination: Perform a divination ritual, such as scrying in the bowl of water or reading tarot cards.

Release: Write down anything you want to release or let go of on a piece of paper. Burn the paper in the black candle's flame.

Intentions: Write down your intentions for the coming year.

Blessing: Sprinkle yourself and your space with the blessed water.

By delving deeper into the symbolism and traditions of Samhain, you can create a more meaningful and personal celebration that connects you to the ancient wisdom of the Celtic people.

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Samhain Deities

As Samhain marks the thinning of the veil between worlds, various deities associated with death, rebirth, and transformation are honored. While the deities listed below are commonly revered during Samhain, traditions vary widely, and many practitioners may choose to honor other gods or spirits that resonate more closely with their personal or cultural beliefs.

The Morrigan (Celtic – Ireland)

The Morrigan, often appearing as a trio of goddesses, represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. As a warrior goddess, she presides over fate, especially foretelling death in battle. Her connection to death and transformation makes her particularly revered during Samhain.

Cernunnos (Celtic – Gaul)

Known as the ‘Horned God’ and associated with wild and forested areas, Cernunnos is often invoked during Samhain for his connection to the cycle of life and death. He is a mediator between humans and nature, and between the physical and spiritual worlds.

Hecate (Greek)

Hecate is the Greek goddess of witchcraft, magic, crossroads, and the spirit world. Given her ability to communicate with the dead and travel between worlds, her influence is especially powerful during Samhain, when the veil between worlds is thinnest.

The Cailleach (Celtic – Scotland and Ireland)

The Cailleach is a divine hag, often associated with winter. During Samhain, she starts her reign, wielding her staff to freeze the ground. However, she is not just a winter goddess; she also embodies the cycle of death and rebirth.

Hel (Norse)

Hel is the Norse goddess of the underworld, who presides over those who die of illness or old age. Her domain, also named Hel, is a place of peace and rest where the dead await rebirth, reflecting the themes of Samhain.

Anubis (Egyptian)

Although not a traditional deity of Samhain, some modern pagan practices have incorporated Anubis due to his role as the Egyptian god of death and mummification. He is known for guiding souls in the afterlife, fitting the theme of spirit communication during Samhain.

Image: Cernunnos – the Horned God