#the parliament of fowl

[werkboileddown]

https://lucysante.com/visual-work/

[agnesandhilda]

chaucer girl I can't fucking do this

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest. 

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

[schwarzwaldcr]

QNTAL - Parliament of Fowles

[marzipanandminutiae]

hello! this is your annual reminder that Valentine's Day as a celebration of romantic love was not "invented to sell cards" or whatever other minor conspiracy theories are floating around

the earliest known association between the day and romantic love was in Chaucer's The Parliament of Fowles, a poem written in 1382. the oldest known Valentine tribute exchanged between lovers was written by Charles, Duke of Orleans to his wife in the 15th century. it's also mentioned in Hamlet

have a happy Valentine's Day, Pal-entine's Day (my alternative to Galentine's, because as a lesbian I'd be having that even with a partner), or just a wonderful day in general!

[rebelliousstories]

I Know Now

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Angst, Light Fluff

Word Count: 1,032

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Part One: Did You Know?// Part Three: Somebody Knows// Part Four: What We Know

Summary: When it comes time for Reid to come home, everyone is happy. Everyone except the one person he wants to see more than anyone else.

“Cherish every moment with those you love, because tomorrow is never promised.” - Unknown

Spencer had no idea what was going on as he was brought into the visitors room. He was not sure what was going on, but within a few minutes, he got his answer. Jennifer walked into the room with a teary smile on her face as she looked at her best friend.

“We’re taking you home.” For the first time in three months, Spencer voluntarily touched another human being. Weight was taken off of him as he hugged her close, but he was waiting to see one specific person.

Checking out of the prison felt amazing. He was never going to go back to those walls again if he could help it. Reid dressed in the suit he wore in again, and waited for the gate to be opened. On the other side, he was delighted to see his friends and coworkers. Garcia came up and wrapped him up tightly, to which he smiled at, but as he looked around, he could not help but be disappointed. His wife was nowhere to be seen. Pulling away, Spencer realized that he must have had a confused look on his face because Penelope spoke up.

“We tried to get into contact with her, but she wasn’t answering her phone.” She whispered, ushering the man into the SUV that was awaiting them. With everything happening with his mom, Lindsey, Scratch; the one thing he needed was her to keep him sane.

Penelope gave him a portable battery charger for the drive, because after three months, his phone was definitely not charged enough for a call. Spencer sat impatiently as he waited for the phone to power up. They turned the corner to go into headquarters and he felt relief at seeing the beautiful building again. He thought he would never see it again. Once his phone was online, he immediately began to try and call his wife, only to be met with her voicemail every time.

Jennifer offered to take Spencer by their apartment to check, as Cassie’s phone was also going to voicemail. It was starting to become weird for the team as they tried to piece together the pieces of this puzzle. Spencer stepped inside of his apartment and immediately spotted the scrapbook that was left out in the open. Two pieces from the book were not where they were supposed to be. A picture that he had made of himself and a tightrope walker, and a picture from the very first time that his mom had met his future wife. Spencer remembered that day so clearly after all these years.

“Mom, hey. How are you feeling today?” Spencer spoke softly through the room as he walked inside. Sitting in a chair, facing the window, was his mother. She turned her head at the sound of his voice and was shocked to see her son, and someone behind him.

“Spencer, what a pleasant surprise. I’m feeling okay today. They had pancakes for breakfast so it was a good start. Who’s this?” Diana jumped straight to the point. Stepping to the side, Spencer presented the young lady that was behind him. She gave her full name as she made her way to the elder Reid.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Reid. Spencer couldn’t stop talking about you the entire time here.” She held out her hand, and waited, but the older woman only looked at it. Sensing the awkward tension beginning to arise, the younger woman held out the present in her hands towards her boyfriend’s mother.

“Spence told me you weren’t a fan of flowers, or chocolates, or anything of the sort so I thought this would be a good thing to bring.” Diana took the object, and look down inquisitively. In her hands, rested a book. Not just any book, no; this was a gorgeous ornate version of Parliament of Fowls. The same stories she used to read to Spencer as a young boy. Trailing her hands over the cover, she felt the embossing and looked up at the stranger with her son.

“Are you two going to stand forever, or come sit down and join me?” Turning to her boyfriend, she smiled as he walked her over to where two chairs sat side by side.

“Spence, are you okay?” JJ asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. He jolted out of his seat at the touch, causing the woman to step back with her hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry,” came his panted breaths, “just realized that these two pictures aren’t where they’re suppose to be.”

“Is there anything significant about them?” She inquired, looking over his shoulder.

The one of him as a child looked unmarked, but turning it around showed him the note in lipstick. XX-XY. However, the other picture was very clearly marked. The same red lipstick was scribbled over his wife’s face and stomach. He knew what the first clue meant, but what on earth did this mean? Spencer stood up abruptly, and went to look around his apartment. There was no sign of his mother or wife all through the humble abode, sending him further and further to the edge. Cassie was not there either, which added another layer to his frayed state already.

It should have been more of a shock to find Cassie dead, and Lindsey on the run, but it was not. At least not to Spencer. This was the natural escalation of things, he supposed. He felt relief when he heard that the victim at the gas station was male; his mother and wife were still alive. But as he sat in the BAU again, trying to crack this case, he kept getting tunnel vision. What was he not seeing? What was alluding him?

When they finally got a break in the case, he was not sure whether or not he was thankful. Because the second that face popped up on the big screen, he felt like he could break it. The screen and the person on it.

“It’s me.”

George Eliot wrote, “Only in the agony of parting do we look into the depths of love.”

Tag:

@bringitonhomejohnb

[frankiebirds]

I see Reid not remembering Garcia's name in this flashback cited as a plot hole a lot, but it makes perfect sense to me. Reid specifically recalls everything he's seen/read, not everything he hears, and as Garcia is brand new to the team here, it's entirely plausible he's only ever heard her name. The fact that he doesn't have perfect recall of auditory information is even a bit of a plot point in 1x22, where he initially struggles to recall the Parliament of Fowls because it's only ever been read to him.

I think there is some inconsistency on how good Reid's auditory memory is, but usually when I see this moment cited as a plot hole it's because Reid has an eidetic memory—which is visual.

[ghost-bxrd]

Howdy!

Hope you’re having a owl-some day!

For your Court of Owls Au, I was wondering at what point does everyone accept Tim as part of the flock?

I saw one post that said Bruce takes him under his wing as soon as he realizes his parents go south for the winter (and fall, and spring, and summer lol) without him

And another that said that Cobb wouldn’t view him as part of the parliament until Jason does

I feel like Cass would probably probably love her little owlet brother pretty quick? He joined the fray before her so she wouldn’t have known a time before so I think she would be less inclined to think of him as a cuckoo. Do you agree?

I’m curious at what point Dick would. Canon Dick was teaching Tim flying patterns pretty soon after he accepted Tim as a mentee but Talon Dick had a stronger connection to Jason so I wonder how that would impact their relationship

I’d love to know what makes Jason accept him as a bird of a feather instead of seeing his presence as fowl play

Also would Cobb immediately accept him after Jason says Tim is a part of his party or would he have to do something that proves his loyalty or be in some sort of danger that makes Cobb begrudgingly view him as part of the family?

I’m also curious, once they do accept him, how protective of Tim are they all? Do they keep him close to the nest or let him fly free with the expectation that he keeps them in the loop?

How would they react to him being in danger after they’ve claimed him as one of their own?

(Sorry for all the bird puns, I made one and then couldn’t help myself and had to make more lol)

Hi! So the Talon!Dick Au (Owl Song) is a different universe than the one where the entire batfam is part of the Court of Owls (Court Family Au).

But to answer your question: Cobb would really only accept Tim after Jason has warmed up to him.

Before that, Cobb would only ever see him as an imposter. A poor substitute for the son ward him and Bruce lost. Him threatening to gut Tim was a very serious threat, and also one Bruce had to put his foot down with and straight up order his (slightly deranged) Talon not to act on.

Tim’s attempt to help stabilize the Court (and Bruce) doesn’t help his case very much, because while it sure improves the over all dire situation Gotham’s found herself in after Jason’s death, Tim unwittingly had to take over a lot of the operations and projects that used to be Jason’s.

Cobb was… very protective of the “little street rat” turned “Heart of the Court”. Having someone else “bully” their way into their lives to insert himself into the achingly vacant place Jason left behind dialed his murderous instincts up to a million.

The only reason Cobb doesn’t ignore the command to not hurt Tim is because he can see that both Bruce and Dick take comfort in his presence. That’s it. The moment he thinks Tim is “obsolete”… well. Timbers should keep himself useful is what I’m saying. There’s a proverbial sword of Damocles hanging over him at every step and turn.

As for Cass, she wouldn’t have very many contact points with Tim. She rarely stays at the manor for long, usually opting to oversee Court operations from the Shadows to make sure there are no unnecessary deaths or civilian casualties happening. When she’s home she usually also stays hidden, choosing to observe the manor’s occupants. And sometimes, when Dick or Bruce look particularly sad, she curls up in the seat next to them and leans her head on their shoulders. That always seems to make them happy.

Once Bruce finds out about Tim’s parents being a no-show most of the time and he moves into the manor… well, I think Cass would be intrigued, but everyone’s body language is sending her a lot of mixed signals in regard to the newcomer’s presence.

Dick doesn’t have an issue with Tim. He’s… less than happy about it at first though. Especially when he thinks Tim really is supposed to be a replacement for Jason. But Bruce clears that one up very quickly.

Regardless, Cobb doesn’t agree (he rarely does)

Jason would eventually, and very grudgingly, realize that Tim is the personification of a sad wet cat and extend an olive branch to him in the form of just— existing with him in the same room without spitting vitriol.

Tim straight up thinks he’s going to be murdered. Right now. (Because he can totally see Cobb staring at him from the shadows, he’s got a sixth sense for that look by now)

It’s a slow going progress, but over time Jason’s animosity towards Tim morphs into a fierce kind of protectiveness

And Cobb doesn’t like it, not at all. But Jason’s claimed the kid as part of the parliament, so he’s bound to accept him into the flock as well now.

I’m not sure yet whether Cobb ever truly ends up becoming protective and fond of Tim, but there would definitely have to be another catalyst for it.

[starkraivennemad]

Twelfth to First

Mycroft woke up on Christmas Day excited. Years of being who he was kept that excitement curtailed as a curious Gregory awakened. 

“What magic did you do?” 

“Really, Gregory. I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. It’s not as though there was much to work with.” 

“Riiiight. As if you’d tell me.” Greg, still a child at heart, scoffed. He calmly left the bed, calmly handled his morning ablations, calmly walked to their bedroom door, and opened it…

Then ran like a bat out of hell down the stairs with Mycroft grinning fondly at him. 

It began with something silly – as all such do. It was the holidays, and Greg saw the doll in a shop window. He knew he was being ridiculous, but it gave him an idea, and he could not resist. “Sir, Lestrade had this delivered to Diogenes, who brought them over,” Anthea entered the room and placed the ‘bouquet’ on Mycroft's desk. Thus, Mycroft sat utterly confused for a solid thirty seconds as he looked at the printed headshots of men of varying ages attached to drumsticks, presented as a dozen roses. Some were long-haired and some sweaty, but none were Gregory, much to Mycroft’s chagrin. Only when he saw the very last ‘rose’ – a photo of Ringo Starr because even Mycroft would recognize the man, did he understand. Once he made that connection, he recognized a few other faces: David Grohl, John Bonham, and Keith Moon.  He shook his head as he got the joke at last. “Okay, the dates and order are reversed, but this deserves to be returned in kind.” Mycroft chuckled to himself. The next day, Gregory nearly spit his coffee when eleven miniature figurines of plumbers, mobsters, and henchmen appeared on his desk at NSY. Each was brandishing a pipe, of course. Mycroft received renderings of ten people, including Byron, Tennyson, members of Parliament, Jesus Christ, and even the singer of the song “Royals” - all leaping over an icy puddle. Gregory read the attached note: The use of the word 'Ladies’ is up to you to interpret. He snorted with mirth and quickly closed the box on the nine miniature pole dancers on his desk. Mycroft was surprised and a little disappointed when noon reached the Diogenes office, and nothing had arrived from Gregory. Then Anthea walked in, wearing a French maid costume and carrying a tray with photos of seven other ‘maids’ using breast pumps plastered to an old-fashioned glass milk jar. “Oh. My. Dear. God. I have no words!” Gregory ‘just happened’ to find himself the arresting officer of swimmers pretending to backstroke with perfect synchronization in the Girl With A Dolphin fountain. Yes, seven of them. Yes, dressed in copies of Bjork’s infamous swan dress. “I can’t believe they did that in the middle of winter!” Gregory later hooted. It was Mycroft's turn to choke with laughter when Greg emailed an animation of Mycroft's six least favorite politicians of the moment, squawking as anthropomorphic fowl in the delivery of eggs. Their rotten policies as the stench from the cracked shells. Gregory's fifth day had been hectic. Mycroft understood there was no ‘gift’ coming when Gregory claimed exhaustion and asked to meet him for dinner at Diogenes instead of going out as initially planned.  But he should have known better, as with a wicked smile, Gregory stood and unzipped his gift of a five-golden ring-wrapped ‘dessert.’   Mycroft was impressed by the subtlety when Gregory got Anthea, Molly, Sally, and Mummy to annoy him. Only after Mummy made an intentional ornithological joke did he realize he had been called back-to-back-to-back-to-back by the four ‘birds.’    Gregory giggled at the ‘mistaken order’ of the three miniature twirly mustachioed, French beret-wearing game fowl that had arrived on his dinner plate. Mycroft groaned at the pair of dove-winged, laurel-wreathed in their mouth carrying inflatable turtles that floated in their bathtub Christmas Eve.

Now, was Christmas day. Mycroft knew Gregory would not be surprised at all by the David Cassidy doll sitting on a pear-ornament-decorated branch of their Christmas tree. By that point, he knew Gregory had fully expected it, knowing his lover would get the reference to the 1970s TV show.  As he said to Greg, there was not much to work with, so he had to improvise something more… 

Gregory was indeed surprised when the ‘David’ figure started singing “I Think I Love You” via Mycroft's phone. When a smiling Greg turned to him, Mycroft knelt to one knee, ring box in hand. “Life’s full of surprises.”

Yes, the Twelve Days of Christmas should have begun on Christmas Day, but Mycroft found it fitting that it instead ended with the best gift of all when Greg said, “Yes!

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

Read Comment on AO3

@mystradeholidaycollection

@notjustamumj

[the-guilty-writer]

Spencer and Rossi-Reid on Valentine's Day

Nobody asked but I know someone out there is waiting for it so here are some headcanons (or are we at a point where we can consider this a canon derivative?) about Spencer and RR on Valentine's Day.

Made with help from the incredible @doctorsteeb

Growing up Spencer didn't celebrate Valentine's day. The first reason is obviously because his parents split up, and sometimes his mom wasn't even aware of what day it was.

Spencer's only real meaningful connection to Valentine's day is Chaucer's Parliament of Fowls, which his mom used to read to him, but the poem means more to him than the day itself.

You'd think Rossi-Reid would have a bad relationship with the day of love as well, considering her father has three failed mairrages, but that only opened the door for Rossi to be the dad of the century when it comes to celebrating Valentine's day.

Rossi loves his daughter more than anything in the world and he wants to make sure that her standards for a man are HIGH.

When she's little he makes it a tradition that he leaves her a card in the morning if he has to go to work and packs her favorite lunch. When he gets home, he asks her to go on a father daughter dinner date and they get dressed up and go to a fancy resturant.

He pulls out her chair for her, waives down the waiter if she needs anything, pays the bill. She's only 5 years old, but he loves his daughter and again, he wants those standards for a man to be high.

When she gets a older and she can appreciate it, she wakes up to a gift instead of a card.

They're nice gifts.

Like REALLY nice gifts.

Diamonds, silver, or gold, always wrapped up in a Tiffany & Co. box with a pink bow.

And of course, they have their father-daughter date.

The year RR stopped ordering chicken nuggets made him a little sad.

One year Rossi was called to take a case. He was going to decline, but RR made him go.

She wants him to be there, but his job saves lives, and at some point that's more important. They can always do dinner some other time.

Of course the entire BAU knew that Rossi went above and beyond for his daughter on Valentine's day, and even though she's the one who told him to go, Hotch still saw that she was sad.

Before his dinner date with Haley, he ran out to the nearest drug store and got RR a box of chocolates and dropped it off on his way to pick Haley up.

He just left it on the porch, rang the doorbell, and left. He didn't even have time to write that it was from him because he was in such a rush.

But RR knew and texted him anyway

"Thanks, Hotch. And don't worry. She's gonna say yes."

"Stop calling me Hotch. Hopefully she says yes."

Haley said yes.

When RR went to college, Rossi would send bouquets of flowers to her and call her that night.

So RR's standards are about as high as they can get.

If you think about the timeline, her and Spencer are married by the time their first Valentine's Day rolls around and Spencer is so nervous about it.

And she's nervous about it too.

RR had a casual boyfriend or two but nothing like her and Spencer (I mean they are married) and she has no idea what she should do for him, what he'd expect from her, etc.

She's honestly freaking out more than he is.

So a few days before, she brings it up in conversation and Spencer freezes.

Then he starts rambling, but RR knows it's his nervous ramble and not his excited ramble so she stops him and calms him down.

And she fully admits that she has no idea what to do either.

So they decide together that for the first year they're going to keep it low-key.

But both of them individually want to make the other feel special.

The day starts casually but Spencer enlisted Gideon's help to keep RR at the office for longer than him.

He goes home and tries to make pasta.

RR tried to make a card with classic Valentine's poems written on it.

By the time RR gets home Spencer has managed to explode tomato sauce in the microwave and severly overcooked two boxes of pasta.

And the card that RR made has coffee spilled all over it.

They're both freaking out until they realize that the other one tried so hard and failed as well.

And they just laugh together.

RR makes dinner and then they snuggle together while Spencer recites poems from memory.

From then on, Valentine's day for them comes in the little things- holding hands a bit longer than normal, lunch break alone instead of with the rest of the team, going home from work early and Spencer reading to RR outloud while she makes dinner.

And gifts are always small things that show how well they know one another- a cardigan Spencer was admiring, the Italian translation of a book that RR loves.

Because even though it's nice to have a day that is a bit more special than the rest, Spencer and RR don't feel like they need a designated day to show or tell one another how in love they truly are.

[greenflower21]

Thanks for the tag @kcrabb88 !!!

Last Song: “Sharei Shomayim” by Naftali Kempeh

Fave color: green, all the greens 💚🥬🌲🌳

Currently Watching: the Bad Batch, Star Trek DS9, and Jewish Matchmaking

Sweet/Savory/Spicy: savory, definitely (shhh I think sweet kugel is gross, savory is the only way to go)

Relationship Status: still looking for my Bashert

Current Obsession: sergeant Hunter from the bad batch, also Jewish religion and philosophy

Last thing you googled: scholarship on Chaucer’s “Parliament of Fowles” (its seminar paper season 🫠)

No pressure tags:

@knaidelmaidel @ruthbaderjaneway @aguineapigcouldntdothis @curator-on-ao3 @stellanslashgeode @iamnmbr3 @hlmoorewrites @madamairlock @cantotallyeven

[themisimagines]

the gang as specific chaucerian poems

Vyn Richter ... House of Fame

meta as hell right from the start because it's a dream vision and simply by profession Vyn seems like the kind to really go for those Freudian interpretations

set in a temple made of glass - reminds me vividly of Vyn's house

weirdly scientific, at one point an eagle swoops down and starts telling Chaucer about gravity, sound, light, and air, and even offers to tell Chaucer about the stars, although Chaucer is like nah, I'm too old for this. Here I feel like Vyn would probably play along and then slowly become part of the landscape, and then it's revealed that his presence was necessary all along because he transforms into the eagle and actually it's a time loop

fame as a literal ice hill that melts because it's fleeting - Vyn's disregard for status and throwing away of his birthright

Artem Wing ... The Parliament of Fowls

Very justice oriented, feels like a fever dream Artem might have where he's turned into a giant owl and has to debate against over giant owls. How does anyone expect him to conduct a debate properly when his wings can't even hold a pen?

Could anyone make looking like an owl regal and majestic? I bet Artem could.

The whole overarching message of this is when Nature allows for free will and deals out proper justice, which would definitely appeal to Mr. Wing

Luke Pearce ... The Book of the Duchess

A running theme of this blog is unfortunately that I will continue to assign the saddest scenarios ever to Luke because of [redacted].

So in this one we learn that the Duchess is DEAD. much like someone will be at some point.

It's about mourning, distance, loyalty and faithfulness, all of which I feel make up Luke's core values because he seems to enjoy finding things to be sad about

The setting of this is also super courtly, which means knights, hunting, metaphorical chess games, etc, but also chivalry. Luke has always been the most proper and courteous of all of them to me, both in thought and deed. Also imagine Luke in a suit of armour!

Marius von Hagen ... Troilus & Criseyde

Listen they are all simps but for me Marius is in particular one of those simps who would feel literal physical illness because of love and this is basically a major plot point of Troilus and Criseyde

Troilus is kind of sneaky - Marius is kind of sneaky! Always tricking you into feeling all these fluffy feelings

Troilus is a prince of Troy and the youngest prince in his family but has great honour, which is really similar to Marius's own standing.

Troilus is also just really cool? (Only in battle, not when he's simping) Marius has that swag but also gets sooo flustered whenever flirting with you

[daimonclub]

Italian influence on English

Italian influence on English Italian influence on English, an article that explains the influence of the Italian language, culture and authors on the English language through the centuries. The Italian language is a Romance language spoken by some 66,000,000 persons, the vast majority of whom live in Italy (including Sicily and Sardinia). It is the official language of Italy, San Marino, and (together with Latin) Vatican City. Italian is also (with German, French, and Romansh) an official language of Switzerland, where it is spoken in Ticino and Graubünden (Grisons) cantons by some 666,000 individuals. Italian is also used as a common language in France (the Alps and Côte d’Azur) and in small communities in Croatia and Slovenia. On the island of Corsica a Tuscan variety of Italian is spoken, though Italian is not the language of culture. Overseas (e.g., in the United States, Brazil, and Argentina) speakers sometimes do not know the standard language and use only dialect forms. Increasingly, they only rarely know the language of their parents or grandparents. Standard Italian was once widely used in Somalia and Malta, but no longer. In Libya too its use has died out. Dante, the main Italian poet, in exile about 1300, began a book meant to guide the development of Italian poetics. He dropped it after a few chapters, but what he finished of "De vulgari eloquentia" contains an explanation in medieval terms of the linguistic map of Europe. In the introduction he begins by stating something obvious to him, and no doubt to his peers, but that might seem strange to us. In most of the world around him, he says, there are two languages in the same place. Call them "low" and "high," or "vulgar" and "classical," or "common" and "learned." Dante calls the first "vulgar" or "vernacular." We moderns can miss something obvious to Dante: we study the language of Cicero and Caesar, and then assume French, Italian, and Spanish descended from that. They didn't. They descend from the common speech of the people going about their lives in the Empire, the "Vulgar Latin," which always was a separate thing from the artificial literary Latin. Dante goes on to make a radical, revolutionary statement, by the way, but a necessary one for his purpose: he identifies the common speech as the more valuable, because the more human. Of these two kinds of language, the more noble is the vernacular: first, because it was the language originally used by the human race; second, because the whole world employs it, though with different pronunciations and using different words; and third because it is natural to us, while the other is, in contrast, artificial.

Dante Alighieri Geoffrey Chaucer, the renowned English poet of the Middle Ages, lived from approximately 1343 to 1400. While there is no direct evidence that Chaucer had personal knowledge of the main literary Italian authors of his time, he was certainly aware of Italian literature and its influence. Chaucer's most famous work, "The Canterbury Tales," includes several stories and characters that are influenced by Italian literature. For example, his story "The Knight's Tale" is based on the work of the Italian poet Giovanni Boccaccio, specifically his work "Teseida," which tells a similar story of love and chivalry. Chaucer also drew inspiration from Boccaccio's "Decameron" for some of his other tales. Additionally, Chaucer was familiar with the works of Dante Alighieri, particularly Dante's "Divine Comedy." Chaucer's "The House of Fame" and "The Parliament of Fowls" show signs of Dantean influence. So, while Chaucer may not have personally known these Italian authors, he was certainly aware of their works and drew inspiration from them, incorporating elements of Italian literature into his own writing. This reflects the broader trend of the influence of Italian literature on English literature during the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The Italian Renaissance had a significant influence on English language and culture during the 15th and 16th centuries. This period of intellectual and artistic revival in Italy had several notable impacts. Italian literature in particulary with works by authors like Petrarch and Dante, was translated into English and inspired English writers such as Geoffrey Chaucer. Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" was influenced by Italian storytelling techniques. Italian humanistic ideas emphasizing the value of individualism, human potential, and classical learning influenced English scholars and thinkers. This led to a renewed interest in classical Greek and Roman texts, which shaped English intellectual discourse. Then Italian Renaissance art, characterized by realism and perspective, influenced English artists and architects. Renaissance ideas can be seen in English cathedrals, palaces, and paintings of the period. In this period the English language absorbed many Italian words, especially related to art, music, and cuisine. Words like "piano," "opera," and "spaghetti" entered the English lexicon during this time. What's more Italian Renaissance advances in science and exploration, such as developments in navigation and cartography, indirectly contributed to the growth of English exploration and the expansion of the English language. Last but not least the Italian Renaissance's political ideas, including the concept of the "Renaissance prince" as described by Machiavelli, influenced English political thought, contributing to discussions on monarchy and governance. In summary, the Italian Renaissance had a multifaceted impact on English language and culture, leaving a lasting imprint on literature, art, language, philosophy, and politics during this transformative period in history.

Italian language and English John Mullan explores how Italian geography, literature, culture and politics influenced the plots and atmosphere of many of Shakespeare’s plays. John Mullan is Lord Northcliffe Professor of Modern English Literature at University College London. John is a specialist in 18th-century literature and is at present writing the volume of the Oxford English Literary History that will cover the period from 1709 to 1784. He also has research interests in the 19th century, and in 2012 published his book What Matters in Jane Austen? So frequent and thorough is Shakespeare’s engagement with Italy in his plays that it has been suggested that he travelled to Italy some time between the mid-1580s and the early 1590s – the so-called ‘lost years’ when we have no reliable information about his whereabouts. There is no evidence to support this claim, but it is clear that Italy was his primary land of the imagination. Unlike other countries – such as France, Austria or Denmark – in which he set particular plays, his representations of Italy are diverse and usually precise. Different cities in Italy are chosen for different plays and given distinct qualities and associations. When he so often chose Italian settings for his plays, Shakespeare was exploiting his contemporaries’ lively interest in the country. It was the destination of many Elizabethan travellers and the subject of many travel writings. (In As You Like It, when Jaques tells Rosalind that he has the ‘humorous sadness’ of a ‘traveller’, she naturally assumes ‘you have swam in a gundello ’ (4.1.19–21). Any serious traveller would have been to Venice.) If Shakespeare did not know Italian, many of his educated contemporaries did. It is likely that he encountered educated Italians in London – he might well have known leading humanist scholar John Florio, an Italian who was tutor to his patron, the Earl of Southampton. Italy had a special hold on poets. The very forms of Elizabethan verse and the terminology of its patterns (stanza, sestina) often came from Italy. The sonnet (from the Italian sonetto) was introduced to English in the 1550s in explicit imitation of Italian models, and especially of the Italian poet Petrarch. In Romeo and Juliet, a play whose very prologue is a sonnet, Mercutio, mocking Romeo for his lovelorn posturing, tells Benvolio to expect from him the poetry of unrequited passion: ‘Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch flow’d in’ (2.4.38–39). The 14th-century Italian poet Francesco Petrarca (known as ‘Petrarch’ in English) was greatly admired in England, especially for his sonnets, which elaborately expressed his hopeless love for the nearly divine ‘Laura’. John Florio was an Italian-born linguist and scholar who played a significant role in influencing the English language through his works. His influence primarily stems from his contributions to English lexicography and his translations of Italian literature. In 1598 and in 1611 he published the first two Italian-English dictionaries: A World of Words, and Queen Anna's New World of Words. Unlike the lexicographers that preceded him, he didn't use just Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch, but as a wide a variety of works as possible. This dictionary was a valuable resource for English speakers seeking to learn Italian and helped introduce numerous Italian words and phrases into the English language. It facilitated cross-cultural communication and enriched English vocabulary with terms related to art, music, literature, cuisine, and daily life. This scholar also translated several Italian literary works into English, most notably the essays of Michel de Montaigne. His translation of Montaigne's essays introduced English readers to Montaigne's humanist philosophy and literary style, influencing English prose writing in the process. He is recognised as the most important humanist in Renaissance England. John Florio contributed to the English language with 1,149 words, placing third after Chaucer (with 2,012 words) and Shakespeare (with 1,969 words), in the linguistic analysis conducted by Stanford professor John Willinsky. He was also the first translator of Montaigne into English, the first translator of Boccaccio into English and he wrote the first comprehensive Dictionary in English and Italian (surpassing the only previous modest Italian–English dictionary by William Thomas published in 1550).

Firenze Tuscany Italy Florio was also known for his playful and inventive use of language. He often incorporated puns, wordplay, and creative expressions into his writing. His linguistic experimentation contributed to the development of a more flexible and expressive English language. Some scholars suggest that Florio's translations and linguistic style may have inspired aspects of Shakespeare's works, including the use of Italian words and phrases in Shakespearean plays like "Romeo and Juliet" and "Othello." On December 2020, Bbc aired a documentary titled "Scuffles, Swagger & Shakespeare: The Hidden story of English", in which Dr John Gallagher uncovered the real, complex story of how English conquered the world. John Florio was there too, described as a man who wanted to bring European culture and literature to the English masses. Gallagher reminded the audience that while in Italy and France a renaissance had been transforming art and literature, in England it had struggled to put down roots, and some thinkers were worried that the country was falling behind. But John Florio was determined to change that. He made his mission to bring continental ideas in England. Gallagher showed the difficulties that immigrants faced in Elizabethan England, by reading the words John Florio wrote in 1591: "I know they have a knife at command to cut my throat. An Englishman in Italian is a devil incarnate." Italian literature, and indeed standard Italian, have their origins in the 14th-century Tuscan dialect - the language of its three founding fathers, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio. The thread of literature bound these pioneers together with later practitioners, such as the scientist and philosopher Galileo, dramatist Carlo Goldoni, lyric poet Giacomo Leopardi, Romantic novelist Alessandro Manzoni, and poet Giosuè Carducci. Women writers of the Renaissance such as Veronica Gàmbara, Vittoria Colonna, and Gaspara Stampa were also influential in their time. Rediscovered and reissued in critical editions in the 1990s, their work prompted an interest in women writers of all eras within Italy. Italian music has been one of the supreme expressions of that art in Europe: the Gregorian chant, the innovation of modern musical notation in the 11th century, the troubadour song, the madrigal, and the work of Palestrina and Monteverdi all form part of Italy’s proud musical heritage, as do such composers as Vivaldi, Alessandro and Domenico Scarlatti, Rossini, Donizetti, Verdi, Puccini, and Bellini. Music in contemporary Italy, though less illustrious than in the past, continues to be important. Italy hosts many music festivals of all types - classical, jazz, and pop - throughout the year. In particular, Italian pop music is represented annually at the Festival of San Remo. The annual Festival of Two Worlds in Spoleto has achieved world fame. The state broadcasting company, Radiotelevisione Italiana (RAI), has four orchestras, and others are attached to opera houses; one of the best is at La Scala in Milan. The violinists Uto Ughi and Salvatore Accardo and the pianist Maurizio Pollini have gained international acclaim, as have the composers Luciano Berio, Luigi Dallapiccola, and Luigi Nono. Contemporary productions maintain Italy’s eminence in opera, notably at La Scala in Milan, as well as at other opera houses such as the San Carlo in Naples and La Fenice Theatre in Venice, and the annual summer opera productions in the Roman arena in Verona. Tenors Luciano Pavarotti and Andrea Bocelli were among Italy’s most acclaimed performers at the turn of the 21st century. As Michael Ricci explains in an article, Italian-American citizens have influenced both our language and our society. With the immigration of many Italians to our country, they not only have contributed to our language, but also to our culture. Words used in English that are borrowed from the Italian language are commonly known as loan words.

Venice in Italy Our language contains many Italian loans words. These words encompass many areas of our society like food, music, architecture, literature and art, the military, commerce and banking. The Italian loan words are the most dominantly descriptive in the subject area of our foods. We are all familiar with pizza, ravioli, pasta, bologna (baloney), coffee, pepperoni, salami, soda, artichoke and broccoli, but the more discriminate gourmets might find many other foods and drinks found here to excite their palates. Other delicious offerings are available at many choice Italian restaurants like panini, an Italian sandwich made usually with vegetables, cheese, and grilled or cooked meat. Ciabatta an open textured bread made with olive oil. Foccacia is a flat Italian bread traditionally flavored with olive oil and salt, and often topped with herbs and onions. Fish items are available like calamari, a squid prepared as food; or scampi, which are large shrimp boiled or sautéed and served in garlic and butter sauce. Most people in our society who are not Italian-Americans refer to all kinds of macaroni as pasta; we Italian-Americans like to call them macaroni. Some macaronis are used with soup and are often given to infants because of their small size, like acite de pepe and pastina. Besides servings being given to babies, these are also used in soup. These small macaronis are sometimes used as toppings on salads. Other macaronis like spaghetti, linguini and ziti are cooked in seasoned tomato sauce. Manicotti is stuffed with ricotta or other soft cheeses. Lasagna is a favorite as a baked macaroni, which is layered with cheese, and ground beef baked between the sheets of precooked lasagna. Tortellini is a specialty pasta in small rings, stuffed usually with meat or cheese, and served in soup or with a sauce. Pesto is a tomato sauce consisting of, usually, fresh basil, garlic, pine nuts, olive oil and grated cheese. Many of these meals are topped off with many delicate sweet foods like biscotti, crisp Italian cookies flavored with anise, and often containing almonds and filberts. Tiramisu is a dessert of cake infused with a liquid, such as coffee or rum. Tortoni is a rich ice cream often flavored with sherry. Amaretto is a sweet, almond-flavored liqueur. Maraschino is a bittersweet clear liqueur with marasca cherries. Food words are only the tip of the Italian-American iceberg. Other Italian loan words can be found in music. By far, music seems a topic dominated by Italian loan words. The more familiar musical ones are alto, soprano, basso (voice ranges); cello, piano, cello, piccolo, viola, oboe, violin and harmonica (musical instruments); largo, andagiettio and fermata (musical tempos); crescendo, forte and sforzando (volume); agitato, bruscamente and affettuoso (mood); molto, poco and meno (musical expressions); and altissimo, acciaccatura and pizzicato (musical techniques). Examples in the literature category are novel and scenario; in art, fresca (fresh painting) and dilettante (amateur); in architecture, balcony and studio; in banking, bank and bankrupt; military: alarm, colonel and sentinel; politics: ballot, ghetto and bandit. Italians formerly used balls in their voting, and the word “ball” eventually became “ballot.” Read the full article

[aaronburrdaily]

May 19, 1809

We were up at 1 last night gathering and packing for removal this morning. Rose at 6 and to work at packing. Sent for Mr. Gahn, the apothek,¹ the son of the member from Falun, to interpret and assist in settling. At 9 he came. Our host, determined to make the most of us, charged 12 rix dollars per week for the two rooms which he would gladly have let for 5; 12 sch.² per day for the servants’ attendance. We finally settled at 21 rix dollars, 10.24 each. We had breakfast and tea with them. Paid 1 rix dollar to the boy. Our new quarters, two handsomely furnished and pleasant rooms, with the use of a third in common with one other person, at 7 rix dollars per week. The rooms are worth double those we left, yet the price is double what it would be if the Diet³ were off. No person in our new quarters speaks a word of French or English; hence much vexation. Unpacked and settled ourselves. At 1/2 p. 2 to dine with Baron Munck. Y: The Baron et ux. and a little niece (12), Professor Arnt, and Dr. Domcier, the German physician to the Duke of Sussex, who is here a missionary for benevolent purposes from the Philanthropic Society, invited, but did not come. The sideboard and brandy before dinner. At dinner, eggs, and slices of salt salmon; roast beef; fish, then soup, veal, and spinach; wild fowl. At table about two hours, then all rose together. Our bows, &c. Adjourned to the saloon. Y: coffee. At 1/2 p. 5 came off with Professor Arnt. On our way he took me to the German doctor's (Sussex) to introduce me; out; left card. Arnt came home with me and sat a while. At 6 Mr. Gahn (nev.⁴) came to take us to the ball. Hosack, not being able to make his toilet, was left. On our way met Mr. ——— of the City College, who went with us. Took boat (to save about five hundred going by the bridge); all these boats rowed by women. Paid 1/2 sch. At the ball about sixty ladies, (not so splendid as that at the Exchange); Countess of ———  and her niece; Baron Wrangle; Baron Armfelt, who introduced me to his daughter, the Baroness of ——— , a very fine woman; a physiognomy of great intelligence; tres belle. La Baroness de B. cru la plus belle. Pas par moi.⁵ M’lle Sergei fl. nat. du statuaire.⁶ Left the ball at 10; mal. a. t. ayant tro. bu.⁷ Hosack came in at 9; left him there. Home at 1/2 p. 10. Rhea.⁸ Couche at 11 on the canopie⁹; can’t endure the down bed.

1  This word means in Swedish apothecary's shop, not the apothecary himself, which should be apotekare. 2  Evidently Burr's abbreviation for the Swedish shilling, a copper coin now worth about a cent in American money. 3  The national parliament, then in session. 4  For neveu. Nephew. 5  Believed to be the most beautiful. Not by me. 6  Miss Sergei, natural daughter [fille naturelle] of the statuary. 7  For mal à la tête, ayant trop bu. Headache from having drunk too much. 8  Probably meant for Latin of rhubarb. See Glossary. 9  For canapé. Sofa.

[onethousandrarchive]

it took years, but i finally got to do a parliament of fowls joke

[nebris]

You can blame Geoffrey Chaucer for Valentine’s Day.

No matter how you personally feel about Valentine’s Day (which is this week, in case you hadn't noticed), don't forget that you can blame Geoffrey Chaucer.

Chaucer, you say? What does Chaucer have to do with it? After all, St. Valentine was a third-century Roman martyr, whose saint’s day is February 14. Hence, Valentine's Day. Simple, right?

Not so much. According to Professor Lisa Bitel, no fewer than three (3) different martyrs named Valentinus died on February 14th, all of them during a two-year period towards the end of the third century. Jack B. Oruch reports that the name was so popular that over 30 Valentines, not to mention “a few Valentinas,” ultimately achieved sainthood. However, no matter which Valentine you look at, their traditions and texts actually have . . . absolutely nothing to do with love or courtship.

As Oruch has noted, despite the claims of some critics, there is no evidence of any “Valentine convention” (as we understand it today) in “literary or social customs, before Chaucer.” Instead, St. Valentine—whittled down to one—became known in the centuries after his (their) death(s) as the patron saint of epilepsy. And beekeepers. 

And that was that, just looking after bees and seizures, until one Geoffrey Chaucer stuck his pen in.

The earliest known suggestion that Valentine’s Day was a day for lovers comes from Geoffrey Chaucer’s 14th-century poem “The Parliament of Fowls,” in which “Seynt Valentynes day” is the day “whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make” (i.e., in case it’s been a long time since AP English, when birds come to choose their mates). Considering Chaucer was basically the equivalent of a Kardashian in his day, the people—starting with his friends, of course, notably poets Oton de Granson III and John Gower—followed his lead and began to use the feast of St. Valentine for their romantic purposes.

The earliest surviving explicit “Valentine” we have is from about a hundred years later—in February 1477, Margery Brews wrote to her fiancé John Paston, calling him her “right well-beloved valentine.”

Why Chaucer thought spring was in mid-February is another matter. It’s still cold, my dude. Possibly it was due to the fact that “the date of the beginning of spring was far from being set firmly in the 14th century,” Oruch writes. Calendars were wildly different from each other, and in Chaucer’s day, if you looked at a calendar, you “probably would have found the beginning of spring marked at February 7 or 22 or (much more likely) at both.”

At the very least, Chaucer’s February 14th would have been more like our February 23rd, which at least gets us within spitting distance of March. So was Chaucer was just really ahead of his time on the whole global warming idea, or is this really is when birds choose their mates? According to Oruch, “quite a few birds do pair during February in England, including the missel thrush, raven, partridge, rook, heron, grebe, lapwing, and blackbird.” Okay, then. 

Poets like William Shakespeare and John Donne continued Chaucer’s tradition in their poetry, Bitel explains, further cementing St. Valentine’s reputation as a patron of romantic love. And, she writes, “by the 19th century, English consumers were ready and eager for cards with poems already printed on them, preferably decorated with love birds, hearts and Cupid (rather than the image of a headless Roman bishop).

The London Journal of 1858 supported the custom of exchanging observance love tokens on Valentine’s Day, declaring that it was both ‘natural’ and ‘proper’ that, at the start of spring, ‘the predominating sentiment in the human mind should be the sentiment of love; and to this accordingly the anniversary of our saint is directed.’ However, the publication preferred home-made cards to mass-produced Valentines, about which the editors opined: ‘If we were to give a general character, we would say they are very trashy and not a little vulgar; and . . .the production of mercenaries for hire.’

So whatever your hippie parents say, rebelling against the corporate nature of Valentine’s Day isn’t exactly new. But now at least you can blame all the lovey-dovey stuff on Chaucer—whether that makes you ignore or celebrate it depends entirely on your own temperament.

from

Literary Hub