#Neolithic burials

[coochiequeens]

No one tell these people that Viking men combed their hair and ironed their clothes and Viking women also joined their battles. Or else we will be seeing articles like “Which Vikings character was TQ+ in real life?”

https://www.bnd.com/news/nation-world/world/article275917576.html

Ok I hate to be one of those people who thinks they know better that people trained in the field but 🤦🏼‍♀️. Have these people every read Vicky Leon’s Uppity Women series? In her Uppity Women of Medieval Times she explains how after the plague a good number of blacksmiths were women. It wasn’t because they were non-binary or TQ+. It was because they were their brothers died and the fathers needed someone to help out with the family business since most professions were passed down within families.

Did they look at the remains of the men with hair decorations versus the remains of men without extras? My amateur guess would be that the men with hair decoration would show signs of being better feed throughout their lives. And that the hair decoration on men is a sign of higher social statues, which would bring more food, not gender identity. As for the woman buried with blades , a boar tusk and a fishing hook is it possible the blades were simple tools for ordinary household chores? Maybe the tusk is also a status symbol? Or that she didn’t got out and hunt it but killed one in self defense or in defense of her home and crops? That the fish hook is because she would supplement the family diet with fresh protein by visiting a local stream or pond? Not because she was some transmasc sportswoman but because back then everyone was involved in food production.

[thesilicontribesman]

Corrimony Bronze Age Chambered Cairn, The Highlands, Scotland

[theemeraldforesthideout]

Carreg Samson, North Pembrokeshire

April 2024

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

stone grave in the libyan desert, Fezzan

Carefully chosen light and dark stones mark the isolated grave of a herder who died between 5,000 and 3,000 years ago. As rainfall dwindled, Fezzan's inhabitants congregated around scattered oases.

[stargoose-photo]

Kit's Coty House (megalithic burial chamber), Blue Bell Hill, Kent, England, June 2024.

[herebecritters]

First of all, let me start by saying, Geshtu is absolutely, completely, and irrevocably insane.

Of the three, he is the least sane. Now this isn’t me saying “HAHA HES COOKOO HAHA WOW WHAT A MANIAC” No it’s not like that at all. You see, the thing about Geshtu is that he doesn’t seem “insane” at all, in fact, compared to Nergal and Dumuzi he comes across as perfectly put together.

The thing about Geshtu is that he is completely convinced by his own delusions. And he has convinced himself so fully of these delusions that he has not only sold them to himself but also to others. The voices he hears, to him, are completely real. He believes so wholeheartedly that he is a vessel for Theias voice that he puts on this complete and divine demeanor. He seems more sane than the others because he carries himself that way.

Dumuzi knows she has problems and she hides from them. Nergal definitely knows he has some screws loose but he embraces it. Geshtu, meanwhile, instead of pushing down his insanity like Dumuzi or embracing it like Nergal, he strides side by side with his.

Now let’s go back to the late Cretaceous where Geshtu grew up. Small groups of family camps were common throughout the Mesozoic, even moreso than villages such as where Cro, Dumuzi, and Nergal were raised. These groups would travel to trade with other family camps, exchanging information, intermingling, ect. But afterwards they’d return to their own family burrow to live their lives. They were foragers and hunters. Geshtus family in particular specialized in fishing and insect hunting.

Geshtu was still Geshtu. He was always a little more quiet and methodical than his other siblings, traits he’s kept with him.

So I’ve mentioned on the backstory posts before how most mammals during the Mesozoic lived nocturnally for their own safety. The large reptilian predators at the time were mostly diurnal so there was less risk of being ripped apart and eaten at night. But there are always exceptions.

One night, as the family was waking to begin their evening routines, there was a scratching above the burrow. And then the ceiling fell through.

A pack of stenonychosaurus, a species of Troodontid, had dug their way into the burrow. They had been invaded. The Stenonychosaurus pack flooded into the burrow and made short work of maiming and devouring the entire family.

Geshtu got hurt, not horribly but enough to cause him to fall and become temporarily disoriented. He would be next if he did not find a place to hide. As he frantically looked around, he noticed a beam of moonlight breaking through the torn overhead of his families burrow. The light washed over a bundle of rocks and debris that had fallen from the ceiling and there was a small gap between them. Small enough for him to fit.

While the troodons were preoccupied with their current meals, Geshtu managed to crawl over to the small opening and discreetly push himself inside it undetected. And he hid there, unable to do anything but watch and wait as his family was torn apart in front of him.

Eventually the troodons finished feeding, were filled, and left. Not much was left behind, save for a few bodies still intact. Geshtu cautiously creeped out of his hiding spot after the coast was clear and went to check on what bodies he could, hoping to find survivors. He found one body that seemed fairly intact, he dragged it out of the pile of death and tried to lift it up into a sitting position. It fell back over with a heavy thud. Blood was everywhere, his tail dragged in it, it coated his hands. No one but him was left alive among the wreckage.

Realizing the hopelessness of his endeavor he backed up against the burrow wall. He covered his eyes with his hands, hoping that by not being able to see the wreckage anymore, it would disappear. Maybe when he removed his hands it would have turned out to all be a nightmare. But when he did, everything was still as it had been.

The moonlight shone down on him from the burrows exit. Its guidance had saved him from the slaughter, so he decided to follow it again. He limped out of the burrow into the open night and made his way to the family creek that sat just outside to wash the blood off his hands. It was then that he caught his reflection in the water. The blood from his hands had marked his face and he could see it now. And, reflected above his head in the water, he saw the moon. Full and bright and comforting. He took this as a sign that the moon had marked him, and he was reborn under it. So he ceased washing it away, stood up, stared at the moon, and began to follow it.

And so Geshtu walked. And walked. And walked. Staring up at the moon the entire time. He needed to understand. He needed to know why this happened and why it had saved him. He walked for a long time. And when the moon dipped below the atmosphere and the sun rose, he’d slink into whatever shelter he could find to rest. But when the moon arose again, he’d come out, and continue his pilgrimage, always staring directly at the moon, resulting in him moonblinking himself.

The more he walked, the more the pain faded. He grew more at peace the longer he walked and stared. Like the moon herself was taking away all the hurt for him. His circumstance began to feel less like a tragedy and more like fate. Eventually, he could hear her singing. First just a light humming, but eventually he began to hear words along with it. Crisp and clear and ringing throughout him. She spoke her name, Theia.

He walked for a very long time. Probably a few years. Just him and the moon. He traveled far, restaining his markings whenever he had the opportunity. He was born in blood and would be forever stained by it. On his journey, he’d occasionally run into passerby’s and other burrows, but these meetings were short and fleeting.

One night though, the moon led him into a small village. And when Geshtu entered, he knew he heard Theia say, “Here.”

At first the villagers were unsure of him but helping other mammals traveling through was not unheard of for him. And Geshtu looked rough. He was a strange foreign vagabond with even stranger markings. But he showed them no hostility and they took him in and fed him. He was quiet but otherwise was grateful and polite.

Eventually he started murmuring prophesies to the people there. Little ones like “theia says the ridge to the west has the best seed gatherings” or “Theia warns not to go near the badlands on this night, there’s something malicious there…” and, by complete chance, almost all of these ended up true.

So now people were convinced that he really could hear the moon speaking to him and that the Theia was their friend. She was looking out for the little creatures of the night, who lived hiding in fear of the monsters of the daylight. And so Geshtu became trusted as the Villages Shaman, sent by Theia herself. He was the one people went to for divine advice

And that’s how he found his place there. He was convinced that his family HAD to die for this greater purpose. It was all supposed to happen. He was meant to come here and he was meant to save these people. The voices guide him to protect these creatures of the night, he is simply an agent of Theia. He believes wholeheartedly in everything Theia tells him. And…they say if you believe something hard enough the energy can manifest itself into reality. And so they eventually would. He, Dumuzi, and Nergal would eventually will themselves into godhood and bring forth a horror unlike any other.

[rochenn]

Should've listened to my inner child and become an archeologist

[whencyclopedia]

Ancestors: A Prehistory of Britain in Seven Burials

Ancestors: A History of Britain in Seven Burials is a focused yet detailed look at the prehistory of Britain, particularly what burials, skeletons, ancient DNA, and human remains can reveal about the long-spanning time from the Palaeolithic right up to the Iron Age. Alice Roberts is an osteoarchaeologist and physical anthropologist at the University of Birmingham, and she brings her expertise in all things skeletal to the fore in this book. Roberts takes the reader on a journey through time and around the United Kingdom, from the Red Lady of Paviland Cave dating to the Palaeolithic and to the Neolithic ‘Tomb of the Otters’, to visit Rushmore Estate. Roberts essentially does archaeology of archaeology and explores the possibilities of modern technologies and ancient DNA.

Continue reading...

[wandering-cemeteries]

Trethevy Quoit, a megalithic tomb known locally as the "giant's house." It used to be buried by a mound, with the rock shelter protecting the grave. Over time, the mound eroded, leaving the stones exposed.

Cornwall, England. 2012

[survivethejive]

Stills from the new film about the origin of the Megalithic culture of Europe. Watch it here

[mumblingsage]

I always thought Lepenski Vir was ripe for a Lovecraftian story. They have actual fish-human hybrid gods! (With the caveat: do not ever look up what those statues look like if you want to maintain the idea of them being terrifying. Literal sturgeonface.) And then I learned the riverbank settlement was right beside a whirlpool! That's what "Vir" means!

[thesilicontribesman]

Prehistoric Petrosphere, Aberdeenshire, 3300 to 2000BCE, Kelvingrove Museum, Glasgow, Scotland

[theemeraldforesthideout]

Equinox Ritual

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

i hope when i die someone will treat me with the same care and love, gently placing me in my grave and putting my jewellery on...

“Towards the Bronze Age in south-eastern Poland (2300-2000 BC)” by  Piotr Włodarczak

[stargoose-photo]

Kit's Coty House (megalithic burial chamber), Blue Bell Hill, Kent, England, June 2024.

[lexamakes]

Made shirts today!

Feature the Lovers of Valdero.