#salzburg christmas

[davidnajewiczphotography]

Store window in Salzburg, Austria during the Christmas Market

[taehyungsbreadcheeks]

May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white 🎧🎶

White Christmas featuring some of my fav pics taken while visiting Christmas Markets last December. It was magical ✨️

[unsarutsiamplecat]

Parohia ortodoxă română „Sfinţii Arhangheli Mihail şi Gavriil“ din Salzburg, Austria

[tfbotmblr]

Don’t worry, Virginias of Austria.

Should that St-Nicholas-isn’t-real pastor’s vacation to either one of your cities happen on December 5, and he flies out at least 2 days after December 6, I bet that Krampus would come by his hotel, whoop his Grinchy butt with birch branches, and leave twigs and coal in his bigoted boots that next morning.

That would be IF he pulls the same henious stunt in your Christmas markets AS WELL AS anywhere else JUST AS he did so at Westgate Mall in Amarillo stateside.

Photo taken 11/28/2023.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Hi! I've been wondering, how would König react if his darling became too insistent into going to see those Krampus events they do in Austria during Christmas?

Oh, he is actually pretty fine with letting you out if it's to see his culture actually getting appreciated by her! I'm not an expert on all parts of Austria, but I headcanon konig to live around Salzburg, so they have these huge Krampus festivals with masked actors even getting into restaurants and disrupting romantic dinners for fools who think it's cool to sit in a diner near central street. Konig always makes sure you're not overwhelmed or too scared, some costumes and animatronics can get pretty scary for a firstcomer ( even if you are prepared to see a lot of spooks around here, he still protects you from anything too gruesome, even though you are getting into more adult part of the festival, with waaay more blood on costumes and alcohol. Did I mention how insane Konig is with huge alcohol intakes? He is so silly while drunk, protecting his culture and his country like a silly dummy!! Even in the first stages of your relationship, he will just get a firmer hand around yours and drag you with him because he doesn't fully trust you with being away from him, but he also wants you to enjoy the outdoors as much as you can! He wouldn't even drag you with a collar, although he can thrown some goat horns on your head and make everyone think you're doing some funny couples costumes because honestly no one even cares around here. But even if you're too scared or overwhelmed, or just want to enjoy more like a Christmas fair part of those celebrations, he is more than willing to spoil you with hot drinks and little gifts and gingerbread with Krampus because he wants you to enjoy this city as much as he did when he was a kid.

[neiptune]

something's not quite right with them

c/w: 2.4k wc, the secret history au, implied incest, implied dark themes, gojo and suguru and everyone else are secretive annoying & disgustingly elite students, the dark academia setting just really does it for me idk i want to play around with dark themes more

PART 2

The library is empty enough to give you less excuses not to focus on what’s in front of you, thick books piled on top of each other and messy notes taken on isolated pieces of paper you keep forgetting to arrange in an order that would make sense.

Most of the students have travelled back home for christmas but you’re too behind on your study plan and had decided that staying would’ve made you more productive than joining your parents on a christmas trip to Salzburg. What an idiot.

The only things you’ve been able to focus on during the past hour are the specks of dust lazily dancing in the winter sun filtering through the tall windows, and the group of people sitting two tables away from you. Their presence there is so unusual one might guess it holds the reason of almost every single stare in the room locked to them, hesitation laced with morbid curiosity. But, truth be told, they’d be alluring anyway, anywhere.

There’s something weird and unnerving about how they carry themselves, always so elegant and eerily enticing. It doesn’t help that they’re almost never around, only attend one class and spend their time exclusively with one another.

To state that you never wondered what went down behind closed doors on evenings and Sunday mornings would be a lie. An entire classroom shut down, barricated for just six people and the only professor you’d refused to endear yourself to would pique anyone’s interest.

You don’t like them, therefore you never had any reason to feel lured enough to attempt a conversation like so many have, with fairly disappointing outputs no less. You don’t like the haughtiness embedded in their attentive stares, the smug sense of superiority surrounding each component of the clique like a nebulous haze that bodes ill.

You don’t like how that Utahime girl constantly sits on her sister Shoko’s lap, letting the latter card thin fingers through her hair so languidly one might get the wrongest idea. You don’t like the contrast posed by that bubbly Yu guy, always far too excited to discuss whatever it is they study in their stupidly exclusive, obsolete literae humaniores class. You don’t like Nanami Kento and his insufferable, stoic expression: he looks like he’s carved in stone, the cold and sharp-edged kind.

You definitely don’t like the best friends, Suguru and his sickeningly condescending smiles, Satoru with his infuriatingly cocky smirks and jokes blurted out loud in Latin or Greek to complete strangers passing by their table, only to laugh at their confusion. You can’t quite put your finger on it but those two have some odd dynamic going on, although you’ve never been one to believe the weird rumors suggesting secret relationships, clandestine gatherings at night or straight up incest. People love to make up stories about popular students they can’t approach and the group certainly is weird enough to fuel some unusual fantasies.

Still, that Gojo guy sometimes looks at his friend like he’d want to swallow him whole and you swear you’ve seen Geto tilt his head up with a gentle hold of his chin more than once, speaking in soft murmurs only inches away from his lips.

Whatever they have going on, it’s none of your business. But you do wonder what they learn in that class, if their exams are any different from yours, where the hell they disappear to from time to time, why they all stayed instead of travelling home for the holidays. Don’t they have families? Are the perfect, most elite students of the already disgustingly elite college having trouble keeping up with their study plan too?

Lost in your thoughts, you notice Suguru’s sharp gaze suddenly darting to yours a second too late. You instantly bring your focus back to the notes you have messily scattered across the table but Satoru’s distinctive, petulant chuckle travels all the way to your ears and your hold on the pencil grows a little tighter.

You don’t dare look in their direction again and actually end up getting some work done, taking short breaks every now and then only to reply to your roommate’s texts. Thank god she’s more than a few states away, Hina is never one to shy away from challenges and she also fell victim of an irrepressible (and, quite honestly inexplicable) fascination with the Classics gang, as she likes to call them. She’d meet Geto’s gaze and bluntly ask if she could join their table with one of her charming smiles, not even bothering to mouth the question or get up to discreetly inquire. She wouldn’t care about heads turning and strangers whispering and you can’t shake the feeling that they’d actually end up indulging her. If as a cruel joke or out of genuine interest, you’re not sure.

As you rise from your seat to start collecting all the exam prep materials, a single glance is all you allow yourself. It’s enough. Suguru is elegantly supporting his head on hands clasped underneath his chin, the thought of his feline eyes having been set on you the entire time teasing your spine with a shudder. Satoru follows suit: he’s been clearly chewing the top of his pen and he lets it rest between his pearly teeth as thin lips stretch into a cheshire smile right as your gaze slips away again, the attempt at giving yourself some sort of composure seemingly amusing him.

You clear your throat and unceremoniously shove books and notes into your leather backpack, the pads of your fingers growing increasingly cold as the air in the library suddenly changes. There are less students sitting at the dark, agarwood tables now, the sunset must be a mere half an hour away and for some silly reason, the greenish glow the little electric lamps cast over the chestnut of the shelves and the burgundy of the walls turns unsettling.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Then why are your hands shaking while you gather the few remaining tomes you couldn’t fit in your bag?

Let them look if they want to. You’re going to keep your head up and march by their table and the disturbing, fleeting moment will recede to the back of your mind as soon as you’re out of the library, free to focus on a matter of the uppermost importance: what the hell to get for dinner.

Still, the tweed of your skirt feels itchy on your legs and the opaque black tights are sticking uncomfortably to the skin. You hope the way you loosen your tie is casual enough, as opposed to the booming clacking of your chelsea boots along the polished pavement.

You know you’re not imagining the way the table grows silent as you approach it, every nerve deemed alert by gazes still stubbornly, shamelessly fixed on you. And yet, if they think you’re going to attempt some sort of approach, they better brace themselves for a big, fat, disappointing—

“Excuse me?” his voice is as soft as velvet, melodious in a way you never would’ve guessed. It stops you in your tracks and, for some reason, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the same time.

Suguru offers one of his saccharine smiles when you meet his eyes.

“We have a debate going on. Perhaps you could help us settle it”

Utahime is staring at you with an arched brow, not entirely hostile but indifferent enough to make it clear she’s far from being interested in your opinion on whatever matter. Her sister’s arms are loose around her slim frame, one hand comfortably resting on her naked thigh, skirt sitting shockingly high on her legs. Shoko doesn’t smile but shfits slightly forward in her chair when you glance at her, head tilted to the side in quiet anticipation.

“I doubt it” you reply, not adverse either but certainly resolute enough to elicit a chuckle. Yeah, you don’t fucking like that Yu guy.

“Oh, come on” Geto softly reclaims your attention once more “I’d love to hear your opinion on the matter”

“She doesn’t have any valuable opinion on the matter. Let it go, Suguru” Utahime starts to impatiently tap on the book in front of her with a pencil.

He hums, seemingly pensive.

“Is that so?” the fake disappointment in his voice makes a vein on your forehead throb.

You narrow your gaze and shift the weight of the books you’re holding to your left arm. Whatever stupid game or bet this is, perhaps it’s time for someone to teach these assholes the school is far from being their personal playground.

“What debate?”  

Gojo’s smirk isn’t but a teasing curve in your peripheral.

“Some of us believe that Roman literature is too derivative of the Greek one to be deemed original” Suguru doesn’t add a question to his statement, he simply leaves it hanging in the air as he waits for you to bite.

And hell, you do.

“Only because genre-defining works are all in Greek. But should all epics be judged against Homer? Should all history be judged against Herodotus, all comedy against Aristophanes?”

Nanami’s eyes lazily travel to you for the first time but you don’t falter, nor you let Utahime’s scoff distract you from Geto’s magnetic gaze.

“So we shouldn’t compare, say, De Rerum Natura to any of Epicurus’ writings?” the challenge he offers is polite. You simply shrug.

“You could, but would that take away the fact that it remains one of the most original pieces of all ancient literature? Lucretius was the first one to write a didactic epic about philosophy. Latin literature found an innovative way to build depth and exist within an already established tradition, why would you reduce it to being merely derivative?”

He stares back for a moment too long before offering another one of his enigmatic smiles.

“It’s six to one, Hime” Yu grins as he faintly throws an eraser that hits her arm.

“Oh, give me a fucking break” she groans, gaze now fiery confronting yours “Latins were assimilators, borrowers. I’m willing to bet your ignorance goes as far as arguing that everything Virgil has ever written won’t be forever inferior to anything Homer’s ever thought”

You ignore Yu’s low, impressed whistle and take a second to weigh each word she’s spat. Then, you offer a gentle smile.

“Comparing works of literature, particularly when composed in two different languages and centuries apart, is awfully subjective. But sure, I will bite. The Aeneid, the Illiad and the Odyssey are all written in dactylic hexameter but I would argue that, in general, Homeric poetry is just not as cohesive, not as harmonious. The Aeneid is briefer and still, it manages to evoke both Homeric epics beautifully. We can’t hold Virgil accountable for the fact that Homer came first, can we? You’re focused on the wrong comparison anyway, you should’ve asked me to pick between Virgil and Ovid”

Shoko’s giggle is sweet enough to dim Utahime’s deep scowl. She kisses her shoulder and whispers something about knowing when to admit defeat, chocolate eyes never leaving your figure.

“Requiescat in pace” Yu sticks his tongue out and effectively dodges the eraser being thrown back at him, boyish grin making his eyes glimmer with malice.

“Would you like to sit?” literal honey trickles from Suguru’s relaxed tone, a closed hand now resting on his cheek, index finger pressing to the temple. He looks absolutely unfazed by his friends’ antics, much more focused on studying you instead.

“Suguru!” Utahime’s hiss is certainly rewarding, just not enough to convince you to accept what suddenly feels like an offer there is no turning back from.

Right as you’re about to speak, Satoru straightens up in his seat and you can no longer resist the urge to glance in his direction. You’ve heard about his eyes before, the not so quiet gossiping involving the group always surrounding him the most. He truy does look as perfect as they say, disturbingly so actually, so much that he instantly reminds you of Aether, son of Erebus and Nyx, personification of the sky.

The way he smiles makes you take a tentative step back for good measure: whatever element balances the blessing of such ethereal beauty, must be extraordinary in its darkness.

“Cubitum eamus?”

It’s impossible to blink back your surprise, one that has the corners of his lips curl further up. The boyish inflection of his voice doesn’t pair well with the wicked glint in that otherworldly, challenging stare.

Suguru lets out a good natured huff, Nanami’s scoff sounds much more sincere. It gives you the courage not to succumb to the blood rushing to your cheeks, undesired heat making your insides churn with sincere revulsion.

“Malo mori quam foedari” you murmur it as a prayer to keep yourself safe and don’t spare any of them a single other glance as the urge to get out of the room finally becomes unbearable.

Some would find the deviant laughter that follows you all the way outside of the building amusing, perhaps even satisfying. But all it does is leave a rancid taste in your mouth and as you make your way back to your dorm, you can’t help but feel as if you have taken one too many steps toward something you really don’t want to have anything to do with.

Satoru watches your upside down figure walk away, chair leaned back as he throws his head back in laughter.

“Suguru” he smiles, the tip of his tongue running along his upper lip while he still eyes the wooden doors that have swallowed you “she’d be fun to play with”

“You’re repulsive” Kento’s eyes run along the page he’s so focused on reading, disapproving frown by now a habit more than a timely reaction.

“I think we should get to have a little fun” Shoko ignores her sister’s glare as she sweetly mirrors Gojo’s smile, hand warm as the pads of her fingers sneak underneath Utahime’s skirt to soothe her irritation.

“Let me have her first” Satoru feels ignited as he meets his best friend’s gaze, he recognizes the dimmed flame beginning its faint flicker within it “let me ruin her just enough for you”

Suguru knows he’s lying. All Satoru does is take and take until there’s nothing left, he consumes everything he touches way before anyone else has the chance of getting their fair share. He lives for himself and is still arrogant enough to like that Geto can see right through his bluffs, gets a twisted pleasure from pushing his limits more and more to find out when the wire will snap.   

Sure, he’ll let him have it his way yet again. Suguru doesn’t appreciate rush, knows that true corruption takes time and, boy, does he have all the time in the world.

index vocabulorum:

requiescat in pace - rest in peace

cubitum eamus? - will you go to bed with me?

malo mori quam foedari - death rather than dishonor

[bullet-prooflove]

Yes, sorry! Scott Forrester + Christmas market, locket and map

Tagging: @kmc1989 @district447 @gatefleet @jareaulamontagnes @hockeyshmockey

Scott finds the locket in a Christmas Market in Salzburg, Austria. Him and the flight team are taking a little downtime after their most recent case and you’re stuck in Sweden on a refresher course Europol make you do once a year to make sure you’re up to date on European law.

“I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a pencil.” You’d told him over video earlier that morning. “Think of the worst health and safety meeting you’ve ever sat through and times it by ten.”

The fact you’re being so dramatic is a testament to just how bored you are over there.

“You’ll be back in three days.” He reminds you, holding up his fingers to reaffirm that. “Just in time for Christmas.”

“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed, with you and that gigantic dog of yours.” You inform him and he laughs then because him and Tank, they’re a package deal and it usually ends up as a three in the bed kind of situation.

As soon as he lays on that locket he knows it was made for you. It’s an antique piece made of silver, formed into the shape of a heart with a sapphire residing in the middle of it. It reminds Scott of the colour of the tiles in that hotel in Rome, the one where the two of you first made love. He pays the vendor a little extra to gift wrap it, because that’s one thing he doesn’t excel at.

It's on Christmas Eve he gets the phone call you’re not going to make it home for the holiday. All flights are grounded due to a snow storm that’s blew in, you’ll be spending Christmas alone in Stockholm.

“I’m sorry Scott.” You say with such disappointment in your voice, that he can feel your sadness radiating through the screen. “I really wanted to be back home with you and Tank. I miss you guys so much.”

“I know.” He says softly, his gaze straying to the gift bag under the tree, the one that contains the locket and a ring box. “We miss you too.”

Love Scott? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

getting into a relationship mid November is tough when my birthday is December 9th, Christmas is December 25th, and my new boyfriend's birthday is December 29th like thats a lot of gift giving happening all of a sudden at the start of a new relationship and I dont know what to get him for Christmas. this is like that episode of new girl where jess starts dating Paul right before Christmas so she (with nicks help) picks out an anatomically correct model of the heart of a 50 year old non smoker as a gag gift and Paul gets her tickets to Vienna and passes to the salzburg music festival

[octuscle]

Merry Christmas! Or, er, Happy Holidays! Don’t wanna be presumptuous but I haven’t a clue what you celebrate, oh great wise Chronivac Support.

Aw why bother with niceties, you can probably tell I’m buttering you up. I’ll just get straight to it.

I live in the one campus dorm that’s right next to a frat house notorious for its wild, all-night parties. For most of my dorm mates, they love being so close to such a hotspot for booze and babes, but I—an eternally sober fruitcake— don’t really care for all that. Not to mention the loud music and flashing lights outside my window while I’m trying to sleep, god it drives me crazy.

Now, obviously I’m asking you to help me out, but I got a special request. Seeing as it’s the holly jolly time of year, I figured why not spice up my request. So, could you have one of their parties crashed by a real deal, mean Krampus? You know, Krampus, big, brutish, fuzzball that’s all about punishing naughty kids? You think you can have him punish those naughty frat boys and turn them into good little (or big, rather) musclebrats?

First of all, have a great holiday season too. I can't wish you a peaceful holiday season based on the information you've given me. I can understand you, but I don't really know how I can help you either. I'll send you a Krampus mask and a rod, maybe that will help with the next excess next door.

Bloody hell! It's Tuesday! In the middle of the week! Okay, maybe tomorrow is St. Nicholas Day, but that's no reason to make such a racket again. On the other hand… It's Krampus night. The evening of December 5th. There's no better occasion to put on the mask, grab the rod and really shake up the party in the house next door. You quickly put on a tracksuit and sneakers, put on the heavy mask, grab the rod and head next door.

The door is open. And step inside. Boozing and bawling frat boys are partying to loud music. And you see some of your roommates from your dorm. You shout "Krampus is here to punish the bad guys!" into the roar. And you start beating every jock who gets in your way with the rod. Nobody reacts at first. Then laughter. Then panic! Whoever your rod hits falls to the ground. You go into a sheer rush. Behind you, men lie on the ground with their limbs twitching, the drunken guys flee from you as best they can. But most of them just stumble over each other and make easy work of you. The big bell on your belt announces your arrival. You walk up the stairs with heavy steps. A few of the fugitives try to escape from the windows. A few barricade the doors. But no door can withstand your powerful step.

Apart from your own breathing and the music, nothing else can be heard. You pull the plug of the sound system out of the socket. Dead silence. The guys on the floor breathe peacefully and evenly. Another frat boy is hiding behind the sofa. One last strike with the rod. And your work on Krampus night is done.

Back in your dorm room, you take off your heavy mask. You're sweating in your heavy Krampus costume made of leather and sheepskins. The costume has been in your family for generations. Even your great-grandfather regularly took part in the Krampus runs in your home village in Salzburger Land.

Peace at last! "De verdammtn Gödln hom hodlt as kriagt, wos eana zugsteat!" you think to yourself as you finally take the costume off again and put it away in the wardrobe. And you fall into a deep and undisturbed sleep.

When your alarm clock rings at 07:00 the next morning, it's morning roll call in the fraternity house next door. The fraternity is known as the toughest training ground on campus. And home to the hottest guys. This morning they've been roaming the campus, stuffing candy and condoms into the good guys' polished boots. And now there are a few bare-chested push-ups in the snow. You love this sight.

You really couldn't ask for a better neighborhood.

Your pic found @hairysweatysmelly, the pic of the enhanced frat bros @nation-of-bros

[justforbooks]

The Dead of Winter by Sarah Clegg

From the devilish Krampus legend to a spot of disembowelment, the author takes us on a scary romp through Europe’s most disturbing festive folklore

Shaggy figures with snarling masks and metre-long horns, scenes of wild drunkenness, random assaults on strangers, witches winding your intestines out on a stick, a giant “Yule Cat” who will eat you if you’ve failed to put on new clothes for the day – no, it’s not your annual family get-together, at least I hope not. It’s a compendium of European seasonal lore from the dark side, as explored in this excellent short book by historian and folklorist Sarah Clegg. She combines a trove of good stories with a serious critique of earlier mythographers’ ideas about them, and also takes us on adventures ranging from pre-dawn graveyard walks to the terrors of Salzburg’s pre-Christmas “Krampus night”, named for the monstrous masked figures who prowl its streets on 5 December.

Clegg approaches Christmas by a broad avenue, so we get chapters on Venice’s carnival, Saturnalia festivals in ancient Rome, the witchy shenanigans of Epiphany Eve (also known as Twelfth Night), and the wassails of January, in which good health is wished to apple trees by waving horses’ skulls at them. What all these celebrations share is a mood of maniacal excess and social exuberance. Practices include “guising”, or putting on animal disguises; “mumming”, or enacting plays; and “knocking” – going around banging on doors, asking for treats, and even dragging out unwilling residents to join the merriment. The mayhem can spill over into violence, especially in the town of Matrei in Austria, where the Krampus-like “Klaubauf” figures barge into houses and fight in the streets, to the extent that local authorities advise tourists to stay away and the hospital’s emergency department prepares for an influx of injured people. Even Clegg does not venture to Matrei, but the Krampus night she attends in Salzburg is only slightly less extreme. As she strolls amid the usual market scenes of fairy lights and glühwein stands, she is set upon by a Krampus who whacks her with two sticks. It’s all good festive fun – except that she still has the bruises and welts far into January.

Krampus is traditionally an assistant to Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus, and even the white-bearded chuckling one himself can be less pleasant than we might think. His punitive side now survives mainly in the idea that he will bring no gifts if you’ve been naughty. That’s nothing compared with the punishments inflicted by other characters in the winter-festival tradition. In northern Europe, Saint Lucy is usually visualised as a gentle, white-clad maiden with a feast day on 13 December. But she can turn from sweetness to savagery in an instant if she catches you going to work instead of celebrating on that day, or if you have forgotten to put out snacks for her and her friends. She is the one who likes winching out your intestines, but for variety she sometimes also seizes children, removes their internal organs, stuffs them with straw, and sews them up again.

In the 19th century, a shift took place towards more polite Christmas behaviour, especially in Victorian Britain. Santa Claus became portly and took to riding around with reindeer. The feasting became less about chaotic public drinking sessions and more about a family dinner presided over by the master of the house: it affirmed the hierarchy rather than upending it. The topsy-turvy elements of the season were transferred to other celebrations such as carnivals and pantomimes, and door-to-door knocking and treating became more associated with Halloween. In England today, the tradition of raucous Christmas home intrusions survives only in the (slightly) less scary form of doorstep carol singers.

Where the wilder rituals remain, they have become more self-consciously folkloric. Clegg introduces us to the wassailers of Chepstow, with their horses’ skulls on poles, and the Marshfield Mummers of Gloucestershire, who dress up like giant ragged mops and put on a play. These events are well-attended, suggesting a revival of interest; Krampus runs have even become popular in parts of the US. Clegg suggests that this might reflect an increasing disenchantment with the tame, Victorian-style Christmas, especially now that it’s so commercialised. The frenzies of last-minute gift shopping or trying to get a train or plane ticket home can’t compete with the frenzy of running around with an animal head.

If so, these mixed feelings about the 19th-century family Christmas were there from the start. Clegg notes that the century that created that kind of Christmas also created a new kind of historian, keen to find dark and ghastly “pagan” rituals lurking behind the politer ones. In 1890, James Frazer’s The Golden Bough sought a key to all mythologies in a supposed long-lost midwinter rite, during which a king was killed so as to be reborn as a new king in spring. The idea was exciting, and the book became a bestseller. The problem, says Clegg, is that there was no good reason to think any such rite ever existed. The book was “a collection of wild, unsubstantiated statements”, built upon a titillating fantasy of “primitive” fertility rituals.

Frazer has been demolished many times before, but Clegg sees his ideas living on in our tendency, even now, to assume that modern practices are rooted in a timeless hinterland of mysterious, pagan antiquity. This is misleading in several ways, she argues. First, we know too little about what really went on in the undocumented past. Second, it casts the people of long-ago Europe as passive transmitters of tradition, rather than as active agents who reimagined and adapted their celebrations through time. “Never mistake folklore for something ancient and unvarying,” she writes. Like most of what humans do, it is “creative and dynamic”.

Also, the notion of solemn and ancient mysteries ignores the idea of having fun. When the fifth-century Bishop of Ravenna, Peter Chrysologus, inquired into local festivities, people assured him that it was all “just for fun”. He thought they were putting him off the scent of something more sinister. For Clegg, they were probably telling the truth. If people, given a day off work and a good excuse, choose to race around dressed as animals, drink a lot and bash each other with sticks, perhaps they do it because it’s a holiday and it’s a laugh.

I’m not surprised Clegg is so attuned to the possibility of fun as a major cultural force, because she has a strong sense of it herself. Her book is both thought-provoking and filled with amusing asides and quips. Like Gibbon, but with more brevity, she puts many of her best jokes in footnotes. We need all the fun we can get, because, as she reminds us in one of her own more serious moments at the end of the book, “beyond the glow of firelight, the shadows are waiting”.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[davidnajewiczphotography]

Christmas decorations on a window ledge- Salzburg, Austria

[wordstome]

hi, new könig fan here 🙃(i was able to delay the brainrot only for so long and now he has bewitched me body and soul) so...i've stumbled upon you and went through your whole königcore tag and *chef's kiss*, yes to all of that 😌(i'm sure as hell that i'll dive into your works for sure💓) although what i've really barged in here for is to offer a few headcanons that my brain has been cooking (and you can choose not to post them if they are not your cup of tea lmao): -deployed!könig (since we're in december let's set it in this month) going back to rural austria to his family and bringing his gf with him, he'll probably even dress up as a krampus and partake in the krampuslaufen cause he's such a cryptid (also mask>>> and stalking/chasing people around, scaring the hell out of them>>>) -and to connect to this one a bit, cause food is my love language and this 6'10'' man has to like function, right? right. so he's deployed and he can 'take it easy' and cheat a bit (specially since it's the christmas holidays), so his abs are not as defined as they were 2/3 weeks ago and he might be getting soft here and there...he'd probably get self-conscious a bit and hide/avoid close contact with his gf until the issue get talked between them and she has to reassures him and all (sorry i'm exceptionally soft for him, it will happen again) and that was it, hope you have a great day ✨

Welcome to the König fandom! We're clinically insane <3 I'm glad you're here and thank you for checking my stuff out 🥺

I THINK ABOUT DEPLOYED KÖNIG ALL THE TIME! He would 100% partake in krampuslaufen (I saw a video recently of a parade in Salzburg, it looks like so much fun ;;), probably chases his s/o around a bit when he's in costume (he 100% uses tactical gear for it)

König strikes me as a guy who takes great personal pride in his ability to keep things tight, which is why I like it so much when he's portrayed a bit thicker and his s/o adores him. I love the idea of someone feeding him as much good food as he can handle (and he can handle a lot, that big ass boy) and still doting on him even when he feels insecure.

[princesssarisa]

I love those rare productions of The Magic Flute that let either Tamino or Papageno cry over Pamina's heartbreak in the short scene that follows "Ach, ich fühl's." Fortunately, we have a few filmed productions which fill that need.

For Tamino, there's the two productions directed by Göran Järvefelt: the 1986 staging from the Sydney Opera House and the 1989 staging from the Drottningholm Court Theatre. Both productions have Tamino – Gran Wilson in Sydney, Stefan Dahlberg at Drottningholm – collapse as soon as Pamina leaves, and lie on the floor sobbing uncontrollably as Papageno drunkenly tries to comfort him.

(The Ingmar Bergman film also has Tamino cover his face with his hands in anguish after Pamina's aria, although it's not clear if he's actually crying or not. His heavy breathing sounds as if he is, though.)

Then there's Jean-Pierre Ponnelle's 1982 Salzburg Festival production. Christian Boesch's Papageno delivers his boasting about having kept silent in front of Pamina – which in other performances seems clueless and unfeeling, which is probably why it's often cut – with a shaky, forced cheerfulness that fails to hide his sadness. Then he finally breaks down and sobs as he indulges in more wine and tries to get Tamino to join him in drinking.

It's hard to say which version I like better.

Papageno crying in this scene is obviously less "out of character," since he's always more vulnerable than Tamino, and it is touching to give such poignant moments to a comic character now and then. (It reminds me of Rizzo the Rat crying after "When Love Is Gone" in The Muppet Christmas Carol – except with more alcohol involved.) Besides, it's more in keeping with the warm rapport he shared with Pamina in Act I to have him be distraught by her pain rather than callous about it.

But if I had to choose, I think I slightly prefer seeing Tamino cry. In Act II he becomes such a stern, stoic paragon of courage and Masonic values, in contrast to the ardent, naïve, impetuous young man he was in Act I. In some performances, he almost loses his humanity and becomes hard to like anymore. It's gratifying to see his "manly and composed" veneer finally break, and be reminded that he does still have feelings, that he's truly distraught to be forced to let his beloved Pamina suffer, and that at heart, he's still a young boy trapped in a grueling, overwhelming situation.

I love both stagings, though, and I'm glad they both exist.

@leporellian, @deathdecayglitter

[dk-wren]

Buddy Daddies & “Silent Night”

Happy holidays and Merry Christmas!

I’ve been busy working on other projects, so no time to write a fic for Christmas. However, I still wanted to do something, and thinking about the work I do outside of here, this is what I came up with. So, to celebrate the season, and the anniversary of Miri falling into the lives of Kazuki and Rei, I present a brief history of “Silent Night” and its relevance/connections to Buddy Daddies!

Brief History:

"Silent Night" was first performed in 1818 at the St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf bei Salzburg, Austria. The lyrics were written by Father Joseph Mohr, which were originally adapted from a poem he had written two years previously, while the melody was composed by Franz Gruber. The song was originally written in German for two voices and an accompanying guitar, though an organ accompaniment was composed several years later (presumably along with an arrangement for a choir since it is traditionally performed in Austria during Christmas Eve Mass).

In Buddy Daddies, Miri is heard singing the first of six verses, which is probably the most well-known verse. When translated to English (first in 1858), and what I gather as the most common/used translation, or the one I am most familiar, only three verses are translated (verses 1, 6, and 2, in that order). Since its original performance/publication, "Silent Night" has been translated into over 300 languages and dialects.

Connections to Buddy Daddies:

(Just to be upfront, this is more my interpretation. I also want to acknowledge that there are a lot of religious elements in this song, which I do not feel I can adequately address/discuss. Though I may be wrong, I also don't think the religious elements are really at play in Buddy Daddies)

First things first, it is more than a little ironic how the first time "Silent Night" is heard in Buddy Daddies, or when Miri enters the hotel in ep. 1, an instrumental version is heard in the background, and in ep. 12 during Miri's Christmas recital (also kind of in ep. 11 when Miri is practicing), a gunfight precedes or succeeds this song.

That being said, it works since those moments then act like the calm before or after the storm. While there will always be some craziness or hecticness in raising a four/five year old, the moments that Kazuki and Rei spend with Miri, especially after these fights, act as moments of comfort or reassurance that their family is all together and they have each other.

The final line we hear Miri sing, and of the first verse, "Sleep in heavenly peace," arguably represents Kazuki and Rei's wish for Miri: that she is safe, has nothing to truly worry about, and knows she is loved. Their drive and desire to let Miri sleep soundly at the end of every night is what causes them to choose their family over the organization and to fight back knowing that the organization disapproves of such "attachments" or the idea of Rei, Kazuki, and Miri being a family. While this scene is not connected to one of the times "Silent Night" is heard in Buddy Daddies, this comfort of having each other and being able to rest easy because of this feeling is also clearly seen in the ep. 3 after credits scene. The events of ep. 3 is the first time Kazuki, Rei, and Miri all seem to acknowledge that they are a family and will be staying by each other's side in the long run, which may then be why Rei quickly falls asleep as they are all relatively on the same page about their relationships to one another (and everyone he loves, whether or not he fully processes this yet, is safe next to him).

In having Miri sing this song at the end of ep. 12, the lines "All is calm, all is bright" also stand out because that is how Kazuki and Rei are seeing their future now. They've done everything in their power to walk away from the organization for good, and they did it without losing their lives. Now, their sole mission is to look after Miri and raise their daughter to be the best person she can be. The two walking into Miri's concert and standing in the back (not just because they were late, but because of their injuries) may give them some time for reflection about what they did that day and how that provided them the opportunity to successfully go after the future they've dreamed of.

Not directly related to the song, but during my research, I also found that another big accomplishment for lyricist Joseph Mohr was his role in building the first school in one village and setting up a fund that would help to cover the cost of education so that children from poorer families could still attend/be educated. His work as a priest could be interpreted as him having an affinity for providing for or working to better the lives of children. Considering how much Kazuki and Rei do to look after Miri's happiness and well-being, the personal life of the lyricist of "Silent Night" then adds some more depth into this song being featured throughout Buddy Daddies given Mohr's connections to looking after and taking into consideration the needs of growing children.

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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this quick little exploration into "Silent Night." There were more things I wanted to include in the history section, but I felt it would have been too much or gotten too long. I hope the little bit I included was enough though and not too boring.

Happy holidays, everyone!

-Dakota Wren

(P.S. gonna slide this announcement into the bottom of my post, but you know how I wrote at the top I've been busy working on "other projects?" Well, that's because I am currently planning to do a celebration week leading up to the 1 year anniversary of Buddy Daddies premiere. If all goes according to plan, I will have something posted each day from Jan 1st-Jan 7th. If I need to switch to plan B, then expect a mega-post or multi-posts throughout the day on Jan 7th. So while I don't have any new content for the holiday season, expect some relatively soon with the new year. Thanks for reading and again, happy holidays!)

[tinydooms]

Merry Christmas, everyone! This is for Hale, part of The Mummy Discord group, as part of our Secret Santa!

Blizzard on the Orient Express

Austria, January 1929

Somewhere on the track between Zurich and Salzburg, the train slowed to a crawl. Snow poured down out of the sky in angry white sheets; wind buffeted the train back and forth as it crept along the track, mile by painful mile in the whiteout. 

“Well,” Evie said, turning away from the window of their compartment, “I don’t think we’ll be reaching Salzburg on time.”

“Shame,” Rick replied. “I was so looking forward to climbing in the Alps.”

Evie grinned at him; if Rick was making jokes, she needn’t feel too worried just yet. But Alex, looking out the window at the blank white of the storm, looked round at his parents with wide eyes. 

“Are we in trouble?”

“No, bucko,” Rick said, lifting their boy onto his lap, “we are inconvenienced, that’s all. We’re nice and safe on the train.”

Alex nodded; at three he was already a seasoned traveler, and still small enough to trust his parents’ words as fact. But Evie and Rick shared a glance over the top of his head: both recognized that the storm was getting worse and the train was getting slower, and who knew what would happen if they were trapped in the snow?

“Well, the Orient Express doesn’t just get snowed in ,” Rick said at last. “It’s far too expensive for that.”

Evie grinned a little; seven years together and Rick still couldn’t quite get used to luxury travel, even when it was the most practical way to go. They were heading to a conference in Budapest at which Evie had been invited to speak, and the Simplon Orient Express was by far the most sensible train to take, taking them as it did directly from Paris to Hungary. But they hadn’t counted on January in the Alps. 

An hour into the storm, the train had stopped almost completely, and it was noticeably colder. They put their heavy sweaters on and walked down to the dining car for coffee and hot chocolate, talking lightly to keep their worry from Alex. It worked, too, or else it was the magic of the legendary train itself that had everyone in the dining car acting like they didn’t have a care in the world, the waiters showering Alex with biscuits and hot chocolate with cheerful smiling faces. Yet it wasn’t long after they had returned to their compartment, where despite the late hour the beds had not yet been turned out, that the announcement came: the train would be stopping–actually stopping –for the night to sit out the storm at a provincial station. 

“Well damn,” Rick said, closing the door behind the porter, “it seems the Orient Express isn’t invincible, after all.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[nievesmorena]

Christmas time in Austria! 😍🎄

📍 Vienna

📍Sölden, Tyrol

📍Innsbruck, Tyrol

📍Hallstatt, Upper Austria

📍Tux, Tyrol

📍St. Wolfgang, Upper Austria

📍Salzburg

📍Zillertal, Tyrol