#The Shepherd's Calendar

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy struggled up to a higher point on the steep hillside, in the hope of obtaining a wider view of the surrounding landscape and the extent of the woodland, but the dense Scotch mist remained as thick as ever, so it was impossible to see anything much at all, except the lush ferns and bracken which surrounded his perch, and a few trees which marked the beginning of the boundless woods.

Resigning himself to patience, although he was keen to continue his quest, Algy decided that he would just have to wait until the weather cleared sufficiently for him to gain some idea of which direction he ought to take, comforted in the meantime by the continuing glow of his magical pumpkin lantern, which even at noon provided extra light and warmth on a day which "seems turn'd to night"…For at present the landscape was indeed asleep in the mist and Algy could not "mark a patch of sky", nor did there seem any chance at all of the sun looking through…

The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon; And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon, When done the journey of her nightly race, Had found him sleeping, and supplied his place. For days the shepherds in the fields may be, Nor mark a patch of sky— blindfold they trace, The plains, that seem without a bush or tree, Whistling aloud by guess, to flocks they cannot see. The timid hare seems half its fears to lose, Crouching and sleeping 'neath its grassy lair, And scarcely startles, tho' the shepherd goes Close by its home, and dogs are barking there; The wild colt only turns around to stare At passer by, then knaps his hide again; And moody crows beside the road forbear To fly, tho' pelted by the passing swain; Thus day seems turn'd to night, and tries to wake in vain.

[Algy is quoting the opening of the long poem November from The Shepherd's Calendar by the 19th century English poet John Clare.]

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi! So maybe its already explained somewhere I missed but-

How do the dates work in this world? :0 Which "months: are spring, summer, and so on? (Yes this is me asking so I can give my MC a proper birthday date 😔☝🏻)

Hi there, I think this info is in the "Calendar" section of your codex, but to list it out here:

Spring:

Loa

Camoa

Summer:

Kthili

Zellea

Fall:

Coppersun

Ashar

Winter:

Leph

Ysk

Because there are only 8 months in the Blest calendar (each consisting of 63 days), there aren't really direct equivalents to our months, but I'd say Loa has "last vestiges of winter, may still have frost on the ground, at the end of the month pale, tentative buds are beginning to appear" vibes; Camoa transitions into "full spring blooms, mild, sunny days, happy laughter and bustling festivities after winter, and some healthy rain towards the end of the month" vibes; Kthili is "green summer fields, perfect weather, picnics, clear blue skies, lush young growth everywhere, sit for hours by a lake and drink wine" vibes; Zellea is "extremely hot and bright, lazy dusty days, drowsy noontime shimmer, yellow and orange tints, dogs panting in the shade" kind of vibes; Coppersun is like "back to school fall vibes" where it's still quite warm, it's the harvest season for farms, but leaves have yet to change color or transition to true autumnal landscapes, it's a bit drowsy but not as intense as the heat of Zellea, the weather begins to turn cool and crisp towards the latter half of the month; Ashar is like "Halloween" fall vibes where you get the actual autumn colors, the shifting to reds and golds and then brisk winds and colder nights, but it's still quite livable and festive; Leph is sort of November vibes with more downcast days, freezing winds, and lots of rainy, sleety, grayer vibes in the beginning, with true snowfall coming towards the middle or end of the month; and then Ysk is like the "end of the year, December to January, deep winter, silent snowdrifts, white and pale and still" kind of vibes.

Obviously your mileage for all of this will vary depending on where you live IRL, and of course it varies depending on where you live in Blest, as well! I'm going off of the Haven/Damba Plains region, but of course, if you come from the Southern Crescent or the coast, you're not going to necessarily associate Ysk with snowfall. But I hope that all makes sense and is helpful in describing how the calendar moves throughout the game! :)

[no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist]

[sheltiechicago]

Portraits of Indigenous People From All Around the World

“On the shores of a frozen lake near Gya, this shepherd carries dried yak dung in his hood. It’s used as fuel, and to reinforce the insulation of Ladakhi houses.” Ladakhi shepherd, India, 2017

(Photo: © Nadia Ferroukhi)

For over 50 years, Survival International has been working to protect the rights of Indigenous people around the globe.

To help support their ongoing campaigns, they’ve recently released their 2023 calendar, We, the People.

[caterpillarinacave]

my darling little pyromaniac

[tangentmusings]

Here's the return of the wonderful advent calendar hand-made by my mom, based off of one my dad's mom had, that until this year I had mistakenly believed my grandmother made but in fact she bought while they were living in the Philippines.

Anyway. Here's the completed advent for the year. I think it came together rather nicely. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate!

[mistydeyes]

just a cute little moment with ghost i was hoping u could write pls 🤭

imagine simon being gone on a mission and your house was feeling so empty and lonely.

So..... you decide to adopt a dog from the shelter to mend your loneliness and waited to surprise him with the new addition to the riley family!

On the other hand, Simon felt terrible for leaving you for months on end. To keep you company and protected, he brings home *drum roll pls*

another dog!!

The look on both of your faces when he comes through the door with dog in his arms and you with a little pup on your lap already 😭😭

(hope this isn't confusing lmao)

AHHH this is so cute and precious! love simon being a dog person fr fr

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: With Simon gone on some unknown mission, you decide to welcome a new member to the family. However, despite how much you love the friendly little guy, Simon has other ideas on pets.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader

warnings: none :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

"Hi, Simon," you smiled through the phone. "Hello, love, how are you?" he asked and you relaxed into the plush blanket on the couch. "Mhmm, same old, same old," you said, trailing off towards the end as if you had something to hide, "but how have you been, haven't heard any updates." You bit your lip as the line went quiet for a moment, you kicked your feet slightly in anticipation. "Something you want to talk about? Sorry, it's been a while since we've gotten stable service," he said, a soft kindness in his whisper. Before you could reply, a soft bark resounded through your shared flat as a car drove down your lane. "What was that?" Simon asked suddenly, "Someone's dog get loose?" As your newest and surprise addition to the Riley family came running to your side, you struggled to hold the phone and settle him down with soft pats and belly rubs. You hadn't intentionally wanted to adopt a dog without Simon but something about the young pup at the local adoption center made your heart melt. Plus you were no stranger to managing a new pet. However, your failure to answer gave Simon a full assumption as to the current state of your home.

"Did-did you adopt a dog?" he asked almost holding his breath, "please, just tell me." With that, the secret was out and you silently cursed your all too observational fiancé. "I'm sorry," you blurted out, "it's just too lonely without you here and you know how the colder seasons make me feel." You tried to calm your excuses by cuddling up to your big-eyed, gentle Golden Shepherd but were immediately off put by the sudden laugh filling your ears from the other line. "Please tell me it's at least a guard dog breed," he said between laughs and you felt your held breath relax. "Um you could say that," you replied as you smiled down to the bundle of fur curled up to your side, "he can be menacing at times." "To the mail carrier or actual intruders?" he joked a slight hint of sarcasm on his tongue. "I'll send you a photo so you can judge for yourself," you huffed but before the conversation could continue any further, you heard the call suddenly drop.

You pouted a bit as you looked down at Bones, your newest companion for the coming months. "Smile for your dad," you said happily before sending the picture off to Simon to see eventually. At the end of the week, your phone dinged with an incoming message. "golden shepherds are not guard dogs." it said simply and you were sure to spam him with more photos of you and Bones' latest adventures.

You lazily lounged around the flat as you looked at your phone's calendar. Simon's mission had been extended 6 more months from his initial departure date and since that update, you had heard little since. You put down your phone dejectedly before filling up Bones' bowl of food and water. As you turned with the bowl in hand, you practically jumped when the door knob turned. Bones ran towards it rapidly as you chased after him, nearly colliding with your kitchen island. "Easy now," you commanded sharply, pulling him by his collar. "Guess he is a guard dog after all," a familiar voice spoke and your eyes met with Simon's. You immediately jumped to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he levied a cardboard box into his other arm. As you reunited after many long months, you were monetarily blinded to the small bundle of fur peeking out from the top. "What's this, Simon?" you asked as you paused your barrage of kisses. "Look for yourself," he smirked, putting the box in your hand. Inside, a small Belgian Malinois began to lick your face. As you laughed giddily at the affections, Simon led you to the couch with Bones following cautiously. "Since you don't have much of a scary one here," he said pausing to pat Bones on the head, "thought he and you could use a companion." You nodded as you put the small puppy in your lap. "Well now that we have two children," you said turning to him, "you better be staying for a while now, Riley."

[shuichisweave]

costume party

riddler x (sort of bimbo) reader part one

halloween fic

suggestive

“Edward”

Oh dear god. Oh no. Oh fuck.

You did not call him Edward unless he had truly fucked up. What was it now? Had all of his plans of eventually letting you in on knowing who he truly was gone awry? He froze in place, unable to move or even look in your direction, as if he had been plastered down onto the cushion of the loveseat in your shared apartment. 

No. Impossible. It couldn’t be- he had done everything absolutely perfectly, everything falling into place just as it should have, slowly introducing the idea of him being more radicalized than he had let on when he first met you. It was going to be sublime. He realized that by now he had not responded to you for nearly a minute. Better late than never.

“Yes dear? Is everything alright?” He looked over his shoulder to see you behind him tapping your foot on the ground. Looking impatient, disappointed even. “Eddie, baby, what day is it?” His eyes swatted from you to the calendar on the fridge. October 26th. 

“Uhhhh… the twenty-sixth?” You softened your gaze slightly, realizing he had no clue how close the upcoming holiday was. “Eddie, we have a costume party coming up on the twenty-ninth of this month. There's only three days left counting today to get our shit together and put together some costumes. We’re going costume shopping today and that’s final” You turned back into your shared bedroom to get ready for shopping without another word. Edward let out a heavy sign he didn’t realize he had been keeping in.

-

The Halloween surplus store luckily wasn’t too bare bones for it being the end of October. A few shelves were sparingly stocked however most were full. Unfortunately for Eddie that just meant more for you to browse through and drag him into trying on. “Eddie, look at this! How cute! A playboy bunny costume! Isn’t it so pretty!” You showed him the vinyl wrapped costume package with a scantily clad woman with bunny ears on. He audibly gulped at the thought of having to share your presence with others while you wore that.

Even after having been together for over a year he still didn’t know how to respond to you in a situation like this. “It’s er- lovely sweetheart but don't you want these to be matching costumes? That means I’ll either have to be Hugh Hefner or a playboy bunny too, and I don’t know how I feel about having to wear that around some of your coworkers…” You took a moment to think on it, and placed the bagged costume back on its proper hook. “Good idea you’re so right! Plus Hugh Hefner is just ugh you know? I don’t want to think of you as a gross old guy” You went back to peruse some of the stocked costumes, taking your time to look through them carefully. “AHA! It’s so perfect, Eddie look! Look, look, look!” In your hands you held a skimpy little bo-peep costume, complete with thigh highs, a garter, and a baby pink shepherd's crook.

“So what do you think? Should I get it? That way you can be a cute little sheep and we’ll look perfect together! He nearly came in his work khakis at the thought of you, practically nude in that little get up and dragging him around the party like your sex slave. “Y-yes absolutely. I think you’ll look … so so pretty” You grinned and searched for a way to make him have a not too embarrassing sheep costume.

-

Finally making it home you squealed in delight at the thought of Ed seeing you in this costume and making his jaw drop to the floor. Although to him he just thought it was a shriek of happiness from finally having a cute outfit to wear for the party you would be holding. “Alright, I’m gonna go try it on! No peeking okay?” It was then that he realized it would have been a great idea to bug the bathroom, he would have made good use out of the pictures and videos that a hidden camera in there would produce. After a few minutes of hearing the sound of plastic bags and shuffling, the bathroom door opened and you appeared, donning the frilly costume. Your tits nearly spilled out the top of the corset top and the soft pink skirt left nothing to the imagination. You frowned slightly and said “Eddie? I’ve called your name three times by now. What do you think? Too much?” He nearly shouted “No! No no it’s perfect. Truly it’s perfect, you look perfect”

You strolled back over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy you like it Eddie, I absolutely adore it” You gently wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hanging off of him. “So now that I know how you feel about it- do you want to try it out?”

“Try it out? What do you mean?” He looked at you utterly confused. “C’mon Eddie baby” You said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards your shared bedroom. 

“Oh!”

Oh.

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Dionysian Festivals in History

You'll never believe who procrastinated on their thesis by writing this. (It definitely wasn't me, if anyone's asking.)

One of the more common difficulties that comes with being a Hellenic Polytheist (or, really, any follower of a pre-Christian religion) is a lack of knowledge about how certain festivals were practiced. This problem is especially true in the worship of Dionysos, where many of the practices were unwritten about, due to either common societal knowledge of them, or a more mysterious aspect to them.

I'm going to go over a crash course of historical festivals to Dionysos (using @thegrapeandthefig's Attic Calendar, as is usual), and explain what each festival is, and how it would have been celebrated historically.

We start off at the start of the Gregorian calendar year with Lenaia. This year, it took place from the 22nd to the 29th of January, which translates to the Attic calendar as the 12th to the 19th of Gamelion. There isn't too much information known about what the festival specifically entails, although there are some hints about it on what are known as Lenaia vases. The vases show scenes related to Lenaia and Anthesteria, but scholars are able to differentiate it by looking at what is depicted on the vase (if it's wine, it's Lenaia). Obviously, the drinking of wine was a pretty important part of the festival, as Dionysos' epithet "Lenaios" means "he of the wine-press". There may also have been elements relating to Dionysos' infancy.

The beautiful thing about Lenaia is that it was so vaguely celebrated, historically speaking. There was wine, and perhaps some plays put on, but other than that, a lot of the festival can be left up to the practitioner.

After Lenaia comes Anthesteria, falling this year on February 20th to the 22nd (Anthesterion 11th-13th), and about which there are a good number of resources. This festival was supposed to be* a springtime festival, which was separated into three days: Pithoigia, Choes, and Chytroi, which can be translated as "Jar Opening", "Jugs", and "Pots". It is strange that Anthesteria covers so many themes - new wine, love, and, at the end, death. However, the article Athens' Festival of the New Wine, by Noel Robertson, offers some important insights on this. It seems that the festival commemorated the myth of Icarius and Erigone, which, for the sake of space (and my own time), I'll link to here: Britannica - Erigone. In short, this festival follows their gift of wine, the drinking of this new wine among the mortals, and Icarius and Erigone's deaths at the hands of shepherds, who did not understand the gift they had been given.

Pithoigia: As the translated name suggests, this is the day of the opening of the wine casks which, up until that moment, had been *fermenting throughout the year. From these casks, the Athenians would libate the first wines out to Dionysos. This was also a day where wine was enjoyed by all, not just by Dionysos - Robertson mentions that in ancient Athens, this was the day during which the wine was mixed.

Choes: Choes is day two, which is the day of Jugs. For lack of a better word, this was the most boisterous day of the entire three-day experience. People of all ages and social classes engaged in wine-drinking contests, while in secret, rites were performed in which the wife of the current king was married to Dionysos. There *was also a tradition in which public shrines were roped off, although this seems to be related to the story of Orestes, who was considered to be an unclean man. Strangely enough, despite the boisterous and celebratory connotations of the day, it was also considered to be an unlucky day.

Chytroi: This third day of Anthesteria likely commemorated the deaths of the two followers of Dionysos who were given the gift of wine-making from Him: Icarius and Erigone. Icarius was killed by shepherds, who believed him to be poisoning them, and Erigone killed herself after finding her dead father. This is where the (with *context, somewhat grim) tradition of swinging at the Anthesteria comes from. This was also the day in which the wine was ritually mixed. This, from what I can gather, means that the wine wasn't necessarily mixed for use among mortals, but rather mixed and consecrated to Dionysos Himself.

Ultimately, Anthesteria is an incredibly complex festival, and I've barely scraped the surface on it in this post. The days are a bit mobile in celebratory orders as well, as it seems that many of the fine points of the festival can be moved around.

The next festival we encounter in the Athenian calendar is the City Dionysia, or Greater Dionysia. This year it falls on March 19th-25th (Elaphebolion 11th-16th). Thankfully, this celebration is one with a lot less ambiguity about its traditions, mainly because it's turned out a lot of things which have stuck around in the world, and remain to this day, such as the Greek plays. In short, this was a large festival which took place in Athens, and involved the production and showing of multiple comedies, dramas, and satyr plays. As the patron of the theater, obviously Dionysos' name was attached to it.

Beyond the theatrical aspect of it, many sources show that Dionysian processions were a pretty big part of the historical celebrations. To be perfectly honest, my view on it is almost like a weeklong Dionysian Mardi Gras.

From here, we have a massive jump of almost half a year to the next festival, which is Kybernesia. This year, it takes place on September 10th, or Boedromion 8th. I have my own hot takes on this long span in which there are no Dionysian festivals, but that's going to wait until another post in which I can truly unleash my full opinions upon the world.

The Kybernesia is celebrated in the modern day as a Dionysian festival, but in all the academic sources I found, it is listed as an Athenian naval festival. One source says that it linked to Theseus after he sailed from Crete, which would maybe explain the potential Dionysian connection, as it was on this journey from Crete to Athens that Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the shores of Naxos. However, if anyone else has a more in-depth source on a Dionysian connection to the Kybernesia, I'd be really happy to see it!

At some point during the month of December was held the Rural Dionysia, which is similar to the City Dionysia, but just... more rural, more rustic, perhaps a bit more rowdy. Its celebration was determined by various local governments, so there's a lot of flexibility on when it can be celebrated. According to @thegrapeandthefig's calendar, "Popular choices [for celebration] include the 7th, 8th, 11th, or 14th."

This is where the current list of Dionysian festivals on the Attic calendar ends. However, it's definitely not the end of celebrated Dionysian festivals in general. There were plenty more outside of Athens which don't have as many resources on their historical celebrations (Lampteria being one). I might go over these festivals in some other post, but for now, y'all get the Athenian calendar!

*supposed to be in spring refers to the fact that, for most folks living in the northern regions of the Northern Hemisphere, it's almost definitely still winter when the Anthesteria rolls around.

Sources:

Lenaia:

Wikipedia - Lenaia

Sarah Pierce - Visual Language and Concepts of Cults on the "Lenaia Vases"

Anthesteria:

Britannica - Anthesteria

Noel Robertson - Athens' Festival of the New Wine

William Nickerson Bates - The Lenaea, The Anthesteria, and the Temple [Limnais]

B. C. Dietrich - A Rite of Swinging During the Anthesteria

City/Greater Dionysia:

Britannica - Great Dionysia

Kybernesia:

Valerij Goušchin - Athenian Synoikism of the Fifth Century B.C., or Two Stories of Theseus

Stephen D. Lambert - Parerga III: The Genesia, Basile and Epops Again (just a note: if you read through these resources, the information on Kybernesia is hidden in the footnotes or only mentioned once in the text.)

Rural Dionysia:

Leonhard Shmitz - Dionysia

Credits:

Thanks to @just-another-dionysus-devotee for suggesting this as a topic! It was really fun to research this topic!

And the divider design in this post is from @cafekitsune

[chinesehanfu]

【Historical Artifacts Reference】

Chinese Tang Dynasty Female Figurines in “乌蛮髻/Wū mán Hairstyle”

some will put lotus flowers in the middle of the hair

[Hanfu · 漢服]Chinese Tang Dynasty(618-907A.D) Traditional Clothing Hanfu & Hairstyle Based On Tang Dynasty Female Figurines

High Tang Period Women Attire and Hairstyle

————————

📸Recreation Work: @吃货娃娃

🔗Weibo:https://weibo.com/1868003212/MD7GFiYs0

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【Shangsi Festival/Double Third Festival/上巳節】

Double Third Festival or Shangsi Festival (traditional Chinese: 上巳節) is a Chinese festival celebrated on the third day of the third month of the Chinese calendar.

It is said that the origin of this festival comes from the Dinner Party at the Qushui River during the Zhou Dynasty (about 1100–221 BC). Others say its origins come from the ceremonial custom of getting rid of evils by bathing in the river. On this day, people would hold a sacrificing ceremony on a riverside to honor their ancestors, and then take a bath in the river with herbs to cleanse their bodies of filth. Following that, young men and women would then go for a spring outing in which many of these scenes were described in Shi Jing (The Book of Songs).

The Shangsi Festival activities have changed over the course of subsequent dynasties. The entertainment feast and praying for descendants along the riverside were added in the Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD). It was after the Wei and Jin dynasties (220–420 AD) that the festival developed into the Double-Third (Shangsi) Festival that is fixed on the third day of the third lunar month.

In modern times, to observe this festival, people would go for an outing by the water, have picnics, and pluck orchids. It is also a day for invoking cleansing rituals to prevent disease and get rid of bad luck. The day is also traditionally considered to be a possible birthday of the Yellow Emperor.

The ancient traditions of Shangsi are mostly celebrated by several communities spread out among the provinces today, such as the ancient village of Xinye

The great calligrapher Wang Xizhi mentions this festival in his famous work Preface to the Orchid Pavilion Poems, written in regard to the Orchid Pavilion Gathering during the Six Dynasties era.

The Han ethnic people in some places also have special customs on March 3rd. For example, Hunan and other places have the tradition of "March 3rd, boiled eggs with ground (shepherd's) purse", while Anhui and other places have the tradition of eating Baba( a kind of bread, with meat):

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hii, hello! I am just here to ask how much time has canonically passed between chapter 1 and 8. I am trying to complete the soh templare but I have no idea how old my shepherd is lol. The most I've found in this blog is that mc is slightly older than Prihine, who was 20 in chapter 1😅

Also, another quick question (idk if it was already answered, in that case feel free to ignore it) does an elfheritage!mc/hunterheritage!mc have the same lifespan of a norm mc or do they partially retain some of their heritages' percks/downgrades in that regard?

Hi, I'm pretty sure Chapter 1 takes place in Zellea (the prologue happened in Kthili) and the beginning of Chapter 9 coincides with the start of Camoa. So it's almost been a year, but not quite. Hope that makes sense!

Your second question is in the FAQ! :)

[mimisempai]

You brighten my life like a Christmas light

Summary

Aziraphale is looking forward to decorating the outside of the bookshop with various Christmas lights. But that's not counting the annoying Mr. Brown, who has decreed that Christmas lights will be banned from Whickber Street this year for ecological reasons.

Notes

Thank you @ruby-gold for your donation to Alzheimer's Research UK in exchange for this story.

Thank you for this incredible prompt!

And to all my lovely readers, welcome to this ineffable Advent Calendar!

INEFFABLE ADVENT CALENDER

On Ao3

Rating G -  1486 words

"Doing good again, Angel?"

Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who had just appeared beside him.

His eyes fell on the small goat the demon carried in his arms, then on the long red hair barely concealed by his shepherd's veil.

The demon nudged him on the shoulder and continued, "I bet you're responsible for the roof over their heads and keeping the straw warm." 

Aziraphale whispered back, "The poor souls, no one could house them, and she was about to give birth, I couldn't let them..."

Crowley leaned over and interrupted, whispering in his ear, "Easy, Angel, I wasn't blaming you."

Suddenly, their attention was drawn to a movement in the crowd of shepherds, and following their gaze, they saw three men arrive who were clearly not locals. Their arms laden with gifts, they came to kneel before the woman holding the baby, and the eldest said in an emotional voice, "We have followed the star to find and pay homage to the newborn, the King of the Jews."

Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, a half smile on his lips, "The star, huh? What a coincidence."

Crowley shrugged and replied, "As much of a demon as I am, I can appreciate the effort of three magi coming from so far away to pay homage to a baby."

This time it was Aziraphale who nudged him on the shoulder and said, "You're such a nice dem--"

"Shut up!"

"Shh!"

A shepherd had just turned to them and looked at them with an annoyed expression as he continued, "The little one has finally stopped crying, your bickering will wake him up."

The angel and the demon looked at each other in silence before stifling a giggle.

Aziraphale chuckled slightly at the memory as he finished placing the last of the figures in the nativity scene under the decorated and lit tree that stood in the center of the bookstore.

He stepped back and let his eyes wander over the garlands and other decorations that festively lit up the bookshop. He knew he was going a bit overboard with the Christmas ornaments, but he loved this time of year, so why deprive himself.

He turned to grab the box of outdoor lights and headed for the door.

"Mr. Fell, I hope those aren't Christmas lights you have in that box?"

Aziraphale turned sharply to Mr. Brown, who had just walked up behind him, and asked, "Why? Would that be a problem?"

Mr. Brown replied, "Didn't you read the memo?"

Aziraphale tried to remember what he was talking about, but the other man didn't wait for him to answer and continued, "The use of electric garlands is restricted for environmental and aesthetic reasons.

"But..." Aziraphale tried to protest, but was cut off by Mr. Brown, who added, "No exceptions. Have a nice day."

The annoying redhead walked away without a backward glance, and Aziraphale stood speechless outside the store door for a few moments before returning inside, his cardboard box still in his arms, but looking utterly disappointed.

Little did he know that someone else had witnessed the entire scene.

Taking one last look at the angel's silhouette, whose dejection was visible even from outside the shop, Crowley strode toward the record store. A few seconds later, he emerged with Maggie and Muriel, and the three of them headed for the coffee shop.

**********

"Angel... wake up."

A hand gently shook his shoulder and Aziraphale opened his eyes to see that it was still dark. 

He looked at his old alarm clock on the bedside table and, seeing the time, protested, "Crowley, it's the middle of the night, why are you waking me?"

He felt the demon move next to him and his voice whispered in his ear, "Because I have a surprise for you."

The word surprise was all the angel needed to be convinced, and he immediately sat up in bed, making the demon chuckle.

Crowley planted a kiss on his cheek and said softly, "Get dressed."

"Why?"

The demon simply replied, "Wait and see."

Aziraphale turned sharply toward him and Crowley continued, "Irritating, isn't it?"

The angel replied, "Idiot."

Crowley, a satisfied smile on his lips, watched with amusement as the angel dressed, then he walked around the bed, approached him and, grabbing his hand, dragged him down the stairs. Arriving at the bottom, he paused and, turning to Aziraphale, conjured a blindfold before gently asking, "May I?"

Aziraphale nodded and turned to allow the demon to blindfold him.

Crowley placed his hands on the angel's shoulders and asked gently, "Do you trust me to lead you?"

Aziraphale leaned his head back against the demon and replied softly, "That goes without saying, my dear."

Crowley kissed the angel's hair, nudged him gently before turning him around and walking him to the door of the bookshop. Then he stopped, made Aziraphale put on his coat, and tied a scarf around his neck.

"Oh, we're going out."

"Absolutely, Angel, you really are an excellent detective."

Aziraphale shook his head with a smile, and Crowley, who had slipped on a warm jacket himself, put his hands on the Angel's shoulders again and led him out of the bookshop, walking a few yards until they were in the middle of the street, deserted at this time of night.

Then he said quietly, "Ready, Angel?"

Aziraphale nodded and Crowley continued, "1... 2... 3... Let there be light!"

He untied the blindfold and Aziraphale opened his eyes to an overwhelming display of light.

Lights everywhere, garlands adorning every shop on the street, a festival of warm, colorful lights. He turned around with a look of amazement on his face, unable to say a word because he was so stunned.

After a few moments, he turned to the demon and said, eyes shining, "Crowley... it's... it's wonderful. But how and why and Mr. Brown and..."

Crowley chuckled softly, then took the Angel's hands in his and said softly, "Easy, Angel, one question at a time. First, the why. I witnessed your conversation with Mr. Brown, and I know this time of year is important to you, so I figured there had to be something we could do, so we'll get to the how. Well, with the help of some friends..." he pointed out the coffee-shop window to Aziraphale, who could see Maggie, Nina and Muriel inside waving their hands at him, and Crowley continued, "we put our heads together, and while everyone was asleep, I miracled all those tinsel, ornaments and Christmas lights."

"But..."

Crowley kissed the tip of Aziraphale's cold reddened nose and interrupted, "My impatient angel, let me finish, will you? Maggie and Nina are the only people here who know about us and our... powers, so they helped me concoct this little lie for Mr. Brown. All these lights are powered by a revolutionary, ultra-ecological component. And with the help of some of our other friends, he won't have to say a word. Because we're going to make Wickber Street the place to be for Christmas."

The demon snapped his fingers and an illuminated Santa Claus flashed across the sky. He snapped his fingers again and a Christmas story was projected onto the front of the music store.

Crowley continued, "Justine will be offering mulled wine to all visitors, Mr. Arnold will be playing Christmas music over the loudspeakers all along the street, and of course, everyone will come to see the gorgeous Nativity scene in front of the bookstore.

He snapped his fingers again, and the bookstore window lit up to reveal an enchanting Nativity scene, similar in every way to Aziraphale's memory.

"So you see, Angel, dear Mr. Brown won't be able to say anything, anything at all, because mmfff..."

Crowley was unable to continue because Aziraphale had thrown himself into his arms and pressed his lips to his in a rather passionate kiss.

When they parted to catch their breath, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon's waist and pressed himself against his chest.

As Crowley closed his arms around him, the angel murmured in an obviously emotional voice, "Thank you, my love. You have no idea how happy this makes me."

Crowley whispered into the angel's hair, "You should know by now, Angel, that all I want is to make you happy."

Aziraphale replied against his chest, "You know I am happy without all that. This year, the most beautiful of my Christmas lights is you, my love."

Crowley chuckled softly and replied, "Oh, no, the Christmas spirit makes you even sappier."

"Don't pretend you don't like it," the angel replied.

The demon merely hummed in response, and as Aziraphale snuggled closer to him, Crowley's eyes were drawn to some movement behind the coffee shop window. 

Amused, he saw their friends smiling broadly and giving him the thumbs up. 

His angel was right, with or without Christmas lights, with their life here and their friends, they were both happy here.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[useless-catalanfacts]

The 2nd of February is the Christian festivity called Candlemas (Candelera in Catalan). It's the date that ends the Christmas cycle, where traditionally people would put away the Nativity scene, though nowadays lots of people take it down soon after Three Wise Men Day (6th of January).

What does this day celebrate?

Candlemas is most likely a remnant of the Ancient Roman festival of Parentalia (last day of the Feralia), celebrated annually in February to remember the dead. During Parentalia, they did processions where they dressed in black and carried little blessed candles to the cemeteries to guide the dead people's souls.

Some say that the origins of Candlemas might also be related to another Ancient Roman festival celebrated in February: the Lupercalia, in honour of the god of fertility and shepherds Lupercus.

In the Christian tradition, this festivity celebrates when Mary brought Jesus to the temple. Biblical scholars explain that it was a tradition for Jewish women to bring their child to the temple 40 days after giving birth. Then, the child was presented to the priests and they were blessed in front of candles, and the woman was purified. Since the Christian tradition says Jesus was born on the 25th of December, 40 days after his birth is the 2nd of February. Candlemas is celebrated every year on this day to commemorate Mary introducing Jesus to the temple. The festivity was introduced officially by Pope Gelasius I in the year 496.

How is Candlemas celebrated?

Believers take candles to be blessed, and some places hold processions with lit candles. The candles are taken home to be kept, because they're believed to have protection powers.

Candlemas procession in L'Ametlla de Mar (Terres de l'Ebre, Catalonia), who celebrates their festa major on this day. Photo: IPCITE.

Unlike other festivals of the Christian calendar (like local patron saint days, Christmas, Three Wise Men Day, Saint Anthony/Three Laps, Saint George, Midsummer/Saint John, Corpus, etc) which are celebrated by everyone in our country, Christian and non-Christian alike; Candlemas is not so widely celebrated by people who aren't Christian believers. But even then, there is one thing that everyone knows Candlemas for: predicting the weather.

In Catalan we have the saying: "Si la Candelera plora, l'hivern és fora. Si la Candelera riu, el fred és viu." which means "If Candlemas cries, the winter is out. If Candlemas laughs, the cold is alive". This sums it up, if it rains on February 2nd it's believed to be a sign that winter is ending. If it's sunny, winter will still go on.

Candlemas is also the day that people in the USA and Canada hold "Groundhog Day", where a groundhog (a rodent animal) is said to predict the same.

Some mountain parts of Europe also remember this date as the day where bears wake up from their hibernation, and many of these places have some festivity about it. In Northern Catalonia, we have the Bear Festivity (Festa de l'Os). In this ancient festivity, which is still done nowadays, some people from the town dress up as bears, while others get all dirty and accompany him running through the town, shouting, whistling and playing music. Others dress up as hunters and run after them. It represents nature waking up from the winter rest, but also the danger that comes with it.

Festa de l'Os in Prats de Molló (Northern Catalonia). Vilaweb and Fabricio Cardenas.

Festa de l'Os in Sant Llorenç de Cerdans (Northern Catalonia). Photographer: Marc Velasco.

The festivity ends when the hunters bring the bear to the town centre and take off his bear skin, turning him into a human. This represents the victory of humans over nature, but scholars also point that it could come from an ancient myth from the Pyrenees according to which humans evolved from bears (for reference, we don't have apes nor monkeys in this part of the world).

[goldielia]

anastasia grace summers

a part of: temporary fix au

aka. stas, stassie, annie, mouse

born on january 30th 2000 in vancouver

grew up in a house just outside of vancouver and has lived there her whole life

only moved downtown when she started university at the end of august 2018

has a younger brother (noah) and an even younger sister (vienna)

currently attending the university of british columbias school of dentistry after getting her undergraduate degree in dentistry there in summer 2022

works at a bar a few nights a week

has a german shepherd, her name is amy

loves cooking and tries to prioritize it as much as possible next to studying and working

makes sure to keep up with her workouts because her mental health gets worse really quickly if she doesn’t

also got amy because it gave her a reason to get out of bed every single day (she had episodes where she wasn’t able to leave her bed for days sometimes when she was a teenager but they’ve stopped ever since she adopted amy)

likes to go on runs to organize her thoughts

her bucketlist includes running the new york marathon

thrives on routines

her calendar and notion dashboard are what keeps her life together

loves plants, her apartment is full of them and they all have names

tries to read a book a week (depending on her schedule it turns more into a book a month sometimes)

loves playing wordle over morning matcha

drinks coffee if she craves it but usually likes matcha and energy drinks better because it doesn’t make her as jittery

criminal minds is her comfort show

always found the significance of dental records in crime investigations really interesting which kickstarted her interest in dentistry

owns a motorbike and looks really hot driving it (quinn’s jaw drops when he watches her leave on it for the first time)

loves strawberries and anything strawberry flavoured (even has strawberries tattooed)

has a lot of tattoos, they’re small ones but all over her body, very patchwork-ish

loves wine-red nails and rarely wears any other colour

used to hate how alike her and her siblings were but as soon as they both moved away she started loving and missing it

will fall asleep cuddling but eight times out of ten turns away in her sleep in under 10 minutes (stays pretty much only when she’s sick or very very tired)

loves 5sos (and boybands in general)

there was a time in her life when she would’ve sold a kidney to meet luke hemmings

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 9: I Don't Know If I Can Do It

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Chapter 8 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Gif Credit // Chapter 10

“Well done,” You said as you handed Chance two twenty pound notes and sent them on their way.

Čiernik neutralised and Shepherd’s fate in the wind, the debrief was long over. Both teams had waited for you and Price, but only Price would be joining them. Part of you wanted to hear the war stories from the 141, really catch up. Then your stomach flared up and your eyes threatened to steam up and you remembered how fragile you’d let yourself get over this calendar month.

Bronze - still conked out on meds - demanded that someone have his drink for him, so you weren’t the only one missing out. Tonight, you’d spend your time numbing your ribs and hidden away.

A naughty mood plagued your mind, a naughty and self-destructive mood that cranked open a trunk of memories concerning the good old days that Price might’ve brought up via his reappearance in his life. You groaned over being at a point in your life where your twenties were “the old days”.

That naughty mood consumed your thoughts with flashbacks you hadn’t considered for years, even since realising Price was alive. Routine for your training years was what was currently playing. Two pints into a night out, you and John used to arm wrestle – an excuse to hold his hand on your part as well as an excuse to display how much you’d been working out – over a sticky table and damp bevy napkins. If the place had a karaoke machine (like your first local did), you’d always sing “Losing My Religion” like you were trying to convince each other of your perspective. Not once did you look at the screen for the words. You would put it on the jukebox if there was no karaoke, create your own jam session that would result in a warning about getting barred.

First time John convinced you to sing with him, he had his hand on your shoulder and stared intensely at you with his forehead to yours as he sang matter-of-factly, if a little unclear due to the cider. You, on the other hand, giggled through each lyric at how overwhelmed by how his steadfast cornflower eyes held you on that stage, losing yourself in the final chorus and getting cut off by your colleague, dragged home by the collar of your shirt and insisting you weren’t that bad, John egging you on all the while.

Difficult emotions bubbled like the beer you used to drink, forming a cathartic yet strangled cry in your throat as you opened the door to your temporary room. You were too injured to wear yourself out with some exercise. That was your usual cure for avoiding uncomfortable thoughts, the energy expelled causing you to pass out without any struggle of tossing and turning – or of nightmares. Even though you were absent of any gear, or your weighted blanket back at your base, to ground you into a mattress, your ribs would’ve complained the entire night. So today you were forced to recognise that the cork on your anxiety was coming loose, and the presence of Price – paired with your lovestruck Sergeants – was the equivalent of shaking the bottle. 

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself with a hard sniff.

The expletive offered a mild release of emotion, staving off the crying for a little longer. Long enough to raid the medical wing for some more disposable ice packs, long enough to get caught red-handed and by none other than the main cause of your pain.

“You’re back early,” You remarked as if you weren’t using your shirt as a makeshift basket for icepacks.

Price pushed a hand through his hair, smoothing it out whilst stuffing his beanie into his coat pocket, “Had my fill. The boys were insisting it was because I was getting old.”

“You’re not old. ‘Cus if you are, then I am too, and I’m not old.”

“Course not,” Price said wryly. Then he gestured to your haul, “Need a hand?”

Already, he was approaching you and – against your better judgement – you let him scoop a couple out before you both headed back to your room.

Holding your nerve, you made an attempt to be blasé: “Don’t suppose you had a sing-song at the pub?”

“No. Haven’t since I lost my duet partner.”

You winced around the corner, hoping Price would take it in response to your injuries. He must’ve done, for he didn’t allow any silence to linger on his remark:

“Played a few sessions of Shithead to determine whose round it was. You got any other plans for tonight?”

You crushed and placed a pack onto your ribs whilst John opened your door, letting you in first as you replied, “Just lie in a pile of these.”

Price’s hum with approval was masked beneath the bed creak as you carefully placed yourself on the edge of it, your chin in your hand, whilst you awkwardly iced your back. Your eyes closed without considering the extra person in the room, yet you took note of the mattress waning beneath their weight and refused to be shocked by the calloused fingertips that touched over the condensation on your hand.

“Here,” Price said, his voice low in volume and tone.

Fingers slipping out of his gentle hold, you let Price take over holding the icepack against your side. His other hand squeezed your corresponding shoulder, thumbing out the knots on that side of your spine – and there were a lot of knots. Needless to say, you were not expecting this, nor were you expecting to crave this kind of treatment until you found yourself sitting up straighter, following Price’s hand whenever it adjusted its grip on your taut muscles.

Clearing your throat, you opened your eyes, “You always made fun of me for my spa days.”

“Well, I’ve matured now,” John said quietly, his thumb digging around the edge of your left shoulder blade, “Enough to understand the value of a back rub – maybe a good bath bomb too.”

Laughter that coughed and clogged up your throat erupted from you. A tear splashed between your spread legs, leaving a little mark on the thin rug. Another ran through the same track and slipped down your face faster. That laughter slipped into sniffles fairly quickly after that.

Price’s hands stilled, “Did I hurt you?”

You sniffed and shook your head. You massive liar.

Very easily, John could’ve just offered you a tissue from the box on the bedside table. Instead, he moved to kneel in front of you, and he went to cup your face. Tilting your head away, you pushed his hands down.Temptation was enticing you to rest your forehead against his for just a second, how it would heal all torment he’d caused you – inadvertently and otherwise. You knew this was beyond a slippery slope. It was a straight drop down a crevasse with the bottom masked by fog. Shaking your head, you looked to your bedside lamp instead of him.

Without forcing you to look at him, John spoke, “I know I’ve got no right to ask you. But I’m a selfish man.”

Stubborn, yes. Ruthless, agreed. Cold. At times. But you’d never describe Jonathan Price as selfish. Not until now, at least. You realised you were still holding his hands away, a light grip he could’ve escaped from easily but hadn’t. Your face crumpled on itself and more tears fell, your head knocking against John’s as he lowered himself to his knees between your own

“Even just a scrap of that time to apologise, properly – now I know you’ve said you’re okay with what happened, but I’m not-”

His hands curved around your wrists. There, his thumb traced over your wrist where your pulse jumped under your Viking helmet tattoo – the one he argued wasn’t accurate because it didn’t have horns.

That night you got it, he’d jeered with a beer in his hand, “I should know; it’s my damn call-sign!”

You had been so drunk on his company but so jilted by his accusation that you were prepared to cross the country with him there and then to retrieve your GCSE History certificate and wave it in his face as you declared that Vikings never actually had horns on their helmets. But then you would’ve lost your spot at the parlour, and you really liked that tattoo artist’s style so you had a juvenile John sat beside you, mumbling under his breath how wrong you were to wind him up.

Your brimming tears shocked you back to the present day, having ignored most of John’s apology in favour of reminiscing of when things felt easier.

You tuned in to the end of his speech: “I kept you in the dark and lost you. I’m sorry for that and the pain I’ve caused you. I don’t expect anything. But we’re on borrowed time already. I don’t wanna waste any more of it.”

At that, you snatched your wrists back, for his words had breathed new life into the anger you convinced yourself was dormant. “We could’ve had all the time in the world, but you left me! Why did you leave me? Don’t patronise me with the “I wanted to protect you” shit. Why didn’t you come back for me?”

And you broke down sobbing, gasping for breath as your head lolled in shame, your neck and gut rife with rile. You’d never felt so pathetic, weeping over him like this after saying it was all okay. Nothing was okay. You wanted all the years of your mourning back. You wanted them back and your John back too.

He was looking upon you with pain pinching in his brow, and his voice was as gentle as he could be: “Because I’d pick you over everything.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave for me!”

“You wouldn’t have to. You never did.”

God, you wanted Chance or Ghost to use you as a punching bag to block out this agony that wracked your entire body with the vines of grief. Worse still, John’s honesty struck worse than any condescending comment he could’ve conjured. It told you all you needed to know about him, and it asked you something new about yourself: if he asked you to leave team Banshee, would you? Your hesitance frightened you to your core, and you know it did the same to John and his commitment to the 141.

“I’m so sorry I took you for granted, that I never came back for you. I’ll spend my life and the next making it up to you. And at the moment all I can offer you is when our leave aligns, a flat by the Mersey, and a bottle of bourbon. But I’ll give you all I am, all of it.” John sealed his promise with a kiss to your forehead,“I’ll be behind whatever you want to do about this.”

The vines were wrapping around John now, constricting you two together, interlocking your bodies together until your anguished lips found his. He tasted like the mint he’d sucked on during his walk back to base.John’s stubbled chin grated as if your face wasn’t melting with tears, desperate to print onto him. Your irreverent fingers ploughed through his cropped hair, too short to hold onto. Teeth pressed uncomfortably together. You couldn’t picture any of the romantic whirlwinds you’d conjured on lonely nights in times gone by; your mind only allowed you to take in how you and John clawed at each other, as if a loose enough grip would lose him to you forever.

As your tears blurred your sights, the truth came clear in your mind. Through an exhale that tremoured like a needle on a gauge, you pushed away from him and heaved out, “I can’t take the trying to get on without you again, I can’t. I can’t go to your funeral again. Don’t make me.”

And how you begged him, when you knew he couldn’t guarantee you a damn thing.

John’s misty eyes clung to your form without breaking contact once as he swore, “I won’t.” He renewed the vow to every plea you made, each one a plate of glass placed around you two until you were surrounded by the fragile promises that would shatter as soon as one of you left the room.

He kissed you again, simple and sweet like nothing else in your lives. You finally touched him with those hands you’d killed with, cradling his jaws as your noses slanted together, chests levitating both your bodies up and down in asynchronous panting.

But even as you felt his touch prickle across your goose-pimpled skin, the rest of your truth pushed out of your mouth and into his:

“I wanted to forgive you, I really did. But I can’t.”

Your sobbing ceased the second you finished speaking, nothing but your wrecked breathing and tears left behind in the shock that you’d finally said it. In its wake, you were faced with John’s broken expression as he stared unmoving at you. His lips parted with a shuddering and short exhale. In that moment, you knew then that he thought you would forgive him. All you could respond with was a touch of your hand to his cheek in an offer of little comfort when you repeated yourself:

“I can’t.”

John’s eyes flickered but still did not blink, as if you would vanish the second he dared not to keep you in his sights. Nowhere in those eyes did you see him imploring you to change your mind. He simply reeled in the agony of reality crashing into dreams, splintering them beyond repair. You looked, really looked, past the youths you used to be. Borrowed time indeed, in your line of work, the flecks of grey in John’s beard and minute scars in his skin hinted at what remained of his life.

You decided to let yourself yearn for your history one more time.

“But can we…” You wiped your nose and sniffed, “Can we pretend, for the next few hours, that I have forgiven you?”

John swallowed and nodded. His eyes were wet, but he released nothing until you kissed him again, and you felt the first splash from where his cheek bumped yours, salt soaking together.

Trembling and keeping your lips to his, you removed John’s watch and touched over the nerve diagram, your not-so-matching tattoos. Your fingertips treaded along where his pulse ran on tracks through thick hairs and collected the sleeves as they went. Forming fists, you tugged at the bunched-up fabric, gently at first, then growing rapidly impatient, soon grappling with his shirt just as his tongue made an intrepid entrance in your mouth. An intrusive hand beside your injured ribs spun you around and into his lap, John now perched beside where you’d been, his shirt somewhere else. He was holding on tightly, and you were scratching his furred chest too harshly, the kiss clunky and incoherent.

Grief was forcing its way back up your throat, rejecting this attempt to compel reconciliation. Your last ditch effort to keep it at bay made you press your lips hard against hard down his neck until your broken cries were bleated against his collarbones.

John’s agitated chest kept you trapped with his arms warped around you. His trembling tongue whispered over and over “I’m sorry” beside your ear, his intentions clear but muddied by the impact of his words, stabbing you in your heart with every repetition.

Mustering enough energy to hold yourself together, you shut him up with your mouth on his, determined to make this easier for you both. Smoothing out his sticking-up hair did precious little to conjure the comfort you were seeking. Your face slid away from his in the rush of tears pouring down John’s face like rain on a car window. Resigned, you slumped against his chest, letting your breathing hiccup in your aching chest. John drew you back into his arms, applying an icepack to your side as he somehow manoeuvred you both under the blankets. At least he wasn’t apologising anymore.

You began phasing between light sleep and wake. Though you were roused from sleep by your ribs, each time the vines’ grip he held you in squeezed intermittently and kept you safe in a bubble whilst acting as if you weren’t in these impersonal quarters, maybe even in that apartment he mentioned. A few times, both of you were awake, having moved away to the far edges of the bed in your soporific turmoil. He returned to you every time and did just as you asked: pretended that this you could have each other like this, every night past the sunrise.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“When I next wake up, I want you gone.”

Silence for a minute. And then:

“Ok.”

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

AN: Black Viking was an access code for Captain Price, so I reworked it as a callsign for this fic - though it's more like "Viking" as the callsign.

Thank you for your patience with the uploads! Only two chapters more to go! Thank you also @bunnyreaper for being a Beta on this chapter <3

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @algor-babe

[arcane-trail]

Do Pagans Celebrate Christmas?

Christmas is a Christian festival (the hint is in the name), so it is not a festival that you would expect to see celebrated by Pagan communities, old or new.

But Christmas is a Christian adaptation of the Winter Solstice, which, in the northern hemisphere, is the shortest day of the year and usually falls around 21 December. For communities that observe the wheel of the year and the changing of the seasons, this is an incredibly important day.

It was around this time that ancient Pagans no longer had food to feed their cattle, so they would slaughter them and have fresh meat for the solstice. This was also the time when the beer and wine brewed earlier in the year were finally fermented, so there were lots of good things to drink. If that is not a good enough reason for a holiday, the moment when the days start lengthening was also considered by many Pagan communities to represent the sun’s rebirth.

So, if you look at the festival calendars of the Pagan communities of the northern hemisphere, most of them have a major festival around the time of the Winter Solstice. The existence of these festivals is also why Christmas falls on December 25th.

The Invention of Christmas

Christmas was invented by the Roman Catholic Church in the 4th century. Before this, Easter was the main Christian holiday.

The Bible does not mention when Jesus of Nazareth was born, but it does seem unlikely that it was in December. Temperatures drop as low as 40 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius) in winter in the area surrounding Jerusalem and Galilee. Shepherds were unlikely to be tending their flocks, and the Romans probably would have conducted their census in warmer months.

But the Church decided to celebrate the birth of Jesus in December to coincide with the major Roman festival of the Saturnalia. This is a week-long festival that occurred between 17 and 24 December to celebrate the fertility god Saturn. For all the reasons already mentioned, it was a major festival period in the Roman world.

The 25th of December was chosen as the actual birthday of Jesus, rather than another day during the Saturnalia, such as the day of the solstice, because this was the festival day of the god Sol Invictus. His temple was inaugurated in Rome on 25 December 274 by the emperor Aurelianus. It was probably not inaugurated on the solstice because this was already a feast day for Dionysus, Hercules, Adonis, and Mithras.

Sol Invictus was the most important god in the Roman Empire before its conversion to Christianity, so it made sense for the Church to conflate Christ with this deity.

The Christmas festival absorbed many of the customs of the Saturnalia and was exported around the rest of Europe with Christianity.

As Christmas spread, it also adopted other Pagan traditions associated with the Winter Solstice. For example, when King Haakon I of Norway converted his country to Christianity in the 10th century, he changed the date of the traditional Norse Yule celebration to coincide with Christmas. Many Norse Yule traditions were incorporated into Christmas. Similar things happened wherever the Church took its new holidays.

Christmas Traditions with Pagan Roots

So, which of the many Christmas traditions that we practice today have Pagan roots? Let’s take a look at just a few examples.

Gift Exchange

It was traditional to exchange gifts as part of the Saturnalia, but it was very different from modern gift-giving. It was traditional for Romans to give one gift to another person (kind of like a Secret Santa), and the gift was almost always a statuette of a god that could be placed in the household shrine.

This may also have been the origin of the nativity scene. The Romans renovated their household shrines with new divine images, and today families create nativity scenes each year.

Christmas Trees

The Romans would decorate their homes with evergreen trees during Saturnalia as part of rituals to ensure the prosperity of farms and orchards in the following year. This was very likely the origin of the Christmas tree.

Deck the Halls

In the Norse world, the Vikings would gather in their temples and long halls for the Winter Solstice. They believed that at this dark time of year, the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest, and dark spirits could cross over. Staying inside and together was a form of protection.

The Vikings would bring animals to sacrifice. The blood of the animals would be drained, and the meat sent to be cooked for the festival. Meanwhile, the blood of the sacrificial victims was smeared on cult images and the temple walls as part of a ritual of protection. This may be the origin of the idea of decking the halls.

Yule Log

The Yule Log also has Viking roots. The Vikings would select an oak log that would be burnt on the fire throughout Yule. The fire offered protection, and letting the fire go out was a very bad omen.

The log was specially prepared and engraved with protective runes. A small piece of the log from the previous year was kept to be added to the Yule fire the following year.

Santa Claus

The idea of Santa Claus is a Germanic-Norse tradition. They believed that during Yule, Odin, the most important god, led a group of gods in the Wild Hunt. They would rampage through the world, removing everything dead and no longer useful, clearing the way for new growth. One of the reasons that the Vikings stayed indoors at Yule was not to be accidentally caught up in the Wild Hunt.

But while abroad, Odin might also choose to visit household, leaving behind presents and good fortune. In the Volsunga Saga, Odin gives Sigmund a magic sword that helps him complete his quests. In the Saga of Hrolf Kraki, the king refuses gifts of hospitality, armor, and weapons from an old, bearded man missing an eye. This turns out to be Odin, and Hrolf later dies for lack of the weapons that he needs.

Santa’s reindeer also seem to be inspired by Odin’s eight-legged steed Sleipnir, which could carry the god anywhere in the Norse cosmos.

Christmas and Modern Pagans

So, does being a Pagan today mean that you can’t celebrate the festive season with your loved ones? Not at all!

For those who honor the wheel of the year, the Winter Solstice is an incredibly important time. It represents rebirth and renewal. Like the new moon, it is a time to set new intentions that will grow with the years. Some Wiccans celebrate the solstice specifically as the day on which the sun god is reborn.

But the winter festival has always been a season rather than a single day in Pagan communities. It has always been a time for feasting, rejoicing, and spending time with family and friends.

This means that Pagans can embrace the festive season without embracing the Christian religious beliefs associated with Christmas. Gift-giving, hall decking, and eating far too much are all respectable Pagan traditions.

You might find the perfect Pagan gift in our store.

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