#less golden ornamentation

[uvuyai]

© uvuyai [MINORS DNI]

ᥕrᥲ⍴⍴ᥱძ ᥙ⍴ 𝖿᥆r mᥱ

Husband!Wriothesley x FEM!reader

–genre. smut, nsfw , starts off fluffy, suggestive before getting gud

–tw. sex by the fireplace, bondage(as in ribbons), gift exchange, reader has winter blush, aftercare, reader is implied to be smaller than wrio, big dick!wrio, creampie, missionary, mating press, breeding, belly bulge, creepy themes but no yan, maybe yan themes idk, yandere Neuvillette??, pet names, blow job, not proof read and small plot, ooc wrio, slow to rough,

–synopsis. You and your husband decide to have a gift exchange(just you and him) to see whose gift is the best. Since he hasn't been inside his wife in a while, he might as well get something that she won't regret.

Mari/yai's message – uhh reader can be viewed as busty if you want or chubby. This was supposed to come out yesterday 😒

December 3rd, ????

It was a miracle sight to see Fontaine covered in a thick white snow blanket. You've lived here for quite a while with your husband.

Since he has been busy at the fortress, he wants to spend time with you, Neuvillette was fine with it. Since he wanted you to be happy.

His boots were making the snow crunch beneath him, he was snuggled in a gray and red fluffy scarf that was wrapped around his neck that was made by you. Your scent was all over it as if you used your own smooth skin to make it.

You were busy decorating the tree with Sigwinne. She purposely put stickers on some of the ornaments and maybe glitter. The Melusine's came to help but they left since you told them that it was all fine and they can go back to what they were doing. You were finally done with the tree. Now you just had to place the star on top. You tried to place it but due to your height and the stools height it was still not enough.

You held Sigwinne by her waist and hoisted her up to the top of the tree(not on the tree like she isnt stuck up there). She was able to slide the star on top but it was leaning far off left.

You heard the knob to your home rattle and then a bundle of keys jiggled. You knew it was your husband and let out a relaxed sigh.

The door opened, snow slowly creeping in. He quickly shut the door and kicked his boots off and placed them next to the door. He shrugged off his coat and scarf and hung them up on the rack. His eyes quickly landed on you. Your small body glowed in the golden light that was cascaded on the tree.

“Hey baby, I see you and Sigwinne put up the tree together.” he slid his hand around your waist and pressed kisses onto your chubby cheeks, occasionally nibbling on them.

“Eww! Get a room!” Sigwinne gagged slightly. You giggled at her child antics.

You placed a hand on his face to stop him but he pressed himself into you more, as if he wanted to merge himself into you(which he has already). “Mmm.. Wrio let go..” you whined but that only made him squeeze harder. Sigwinne already left so you have one less thing to worry about.

You wheezed as he squeezed harder than ever. You tapped on his bicep, desperate for a few breaths. You love the way he is cuddling you right now as you are enjoying his warmth. He noticed your struggle and released you. Already missing the warmth that was coming from your body.

You were left panting. If only you could see the look on his face. “I appreciate it wrio, but next time, not so hard.” he nodded. “I'm sorry bunny, I just miss you that's all.” he scratched the black and grey tuffs on his head. he placed his scar filled hands on your chubby cheeks which sent a jolt down your spine from how cold they were.

“C'mon Wrio, let's get you warmed up.” you dragged him to the living room and made him sit on the couch. You placed more logs to create a strong fire(but not too strong or else,) enough to make the room warm. You were oblivious to the lovesick eyes he was giving you. There was a hint of worry in his eyes since he was the one usually putting longs in the fire.

You brought yourself to the kitchen to warm up some hot chocolate (or his favorite tea) for you and him. These were given to you by Sigwinne since you mentioned that you wanted to get some but Wriothesley refused to let you out in this freezing cold weather. You had winter close but he would blame you if you got sick and he'd have to take care of you. You put water into the kettle and placed it on the stove, turning the heat on for it to warm the water.

You put enough water to make two hot chocolates and tea for Wriothesley. Just in case he wanted hot chocolate.

As you let it boil, you ran to your shared bedroom and grabbed a big fluffy blanket for both of you to cuddle up and stay warm.

You ran back to the living room to see Wriothesley with his head leaning back on the couch. He looked as if he was in pain. Or maybe he was cold and getting a fever. “Wrio, are you alright?” you carefully and slowly step towards him. He jumped out of his skin when he heard you. “I'm fine, bunny. Just getting cold is all.” he avoided eye contact with you for as long as he could. You walked towards him and placed the blanket between both of you.

You snuggled more into him, heat emitting off his body. He wrapped his large hand around your waist, nearly engulfing it whole.

You heard the teapot yelling which was your cue to get up. But your movement was restricted by his hands

“Please stay.” he nuzzled himself into your hair. “I promise we'll get back to this when I get back.” you said as you pressed a kiss on his lips. You got up and traveled to the kitchen.

After a few which was not long, you went back to the living room placing the tray on the coffee table. “You must let it cool before you can drink it.” you said as you caught him staring intently at the beverage. “I—I don't want that right now.” he said nonchalantly. “I want you.” he said. You looked down at the blanket to see a tent forming. You guessed it was him.

“Do you want me to help with that?” he nodded as you began to kneel down in front of him. You move the blanket out of the way, revealing his hard-on. His face was flushed red and low pants coming from his mouth. You looked back up at him with your doe eyes.

“Go ahead bunny, do what you want.” you removed his belt slightly pulling down his pants. You tugged the hem of his boxers down. his cock sprang out, nearly hitting you dead in the face.

You gave cat licks down his shaft which was twitching too much to the point you had to grab it. Precum was drooling from the tip. Finally, you bobbed your head down on his cock, already webbed in the wetness of your drool. Your tongue licking the base of his cock as you bob your head up and down, granting him the pleasure he wanted.

“S-shit baby, you take it so well.” he started to tug at your hair softly not trying to discomfort you.

His cock began to twitch in your mouth and his breathing got harsher signaling his release more. Thick ropes of cum splurged at the back of your throat, some leaking from your mouth. He panted, leaning his head on the sofa trying to catch his breath. You gathered yourself on the sofa beside him. He looked over at you as you were clearing the cum from your mouth and chin.

“Swallow.” he grabbed your chin as you swallowed, sticking your tongue out as proof. He chuckled, wiping left over come that was on your chubby cheeks.

“Now bunny, it's my turn for me to help you.” he picked you up bridal style as he brought you to the bedroom.

I guess you could say you hoped for this.

December 24th, ????

You and your husband were currently out and about, roaming the streets of Fontaine. You look so cute with that scarf covering half of your face and blush sprouting from behind it. Since you had the idea of a gift exchange, you got him and Sigwinne a gift as you'd give her hers tomorrow.

You got Wriothesley something special, as you saw him gazing a few times at things at stores that fit his style. You had no idea what Wriothesley got, which was more exciting.

You both arrived home, taking off your coat, sweaters, scarves, and boots and placed them in an organized place and order.

You placed yourself on the reclining chair that was by a window and opened up a book you started to read(as well as recommending it to Wriothesley) and going back to where you book marked it. You didn't realize where Wriothesley went so you figured he went in the bedroom to rest.

Wrio came back with a lace ribbon(?) In his hand. He quickly placed it behind his back as you glanced over at him. “Is something wrong?” you tilted your head as he shook his head no. “Can't I just admire my beautiful wife?” you stayed quiet as blush began to creep up on your face. He chuckled which made you roll your eyes.

“C'mere bunny.” he signaled his hand towards you. You got up and walked to him. “Do you mind if I blindfold you?” he said with a hint of worry. “Yeah you can, but why?” you asked. “It's a surprise.” you signaled him to put the blindfold on. He stepped behind you, placing the black lace ribbon blindfold over your eyes. He chuckled as he led you to the living room, sitting you down on the carpet on the floor. He grabbed a pillow from the sofa, placing it beneath your head.

You felt him tug at the hem of your shirt, the hot pooling gathering at your pussy. He lifted your shirt up taking it off and throwing it somewhere. His hands trailed around your skirt trying to find the zipper. He placed your skirt on the side not wanting to dirty it up.

You were only in your black lace bra(the your husband gifted you) and black stockings with black lace panties underneath. He used the middle and index finger with both hands to rip open your stockings, revealing your wetness soaking through your panties. “Ah, you're already wet. I bet it was just from me touching you.” he said with a seductive voice.

He moved your panties to the side revealing your drooling cunt.

You gasped and shivered as the slightly cold air brushed up against your cunt. Wriothesley felt this and went to the fireplace and threw a few logs inside, the flames gathering up on the newly put fire. He looked back at you to see you stop shivering.

He went back to you and pulled off the rest of your stockings and panties and bra. He placed your legs over his shoulders, leaning down so his nose was touching your cunt. You jolted as he licked at your clit. You whimpered and started clawing at the pillow beneath your head. He thrusted his tongue in and out of you, the clawing at the pillow became apparent.

He chuckled which sent a vibration up your core. “Your reactions are so cute. It makes me mad.” he made circles on your thigh as he continued to swirl his tongue inside you and played with your clit. Your hands latched onto his hair as tears soaked the black lace fabric covering your eyes. Your breathing became harsher, as the knot in your stomach started to tighten.

Before you can climax, Wriothesley removed his tongue. You were a little disappointed and started to pout even though you couldn't see him. “Sorry bunny, but the only thing you'll be coming on is my cock.” he pulled down his burgundy/red(I might be color blind) tie and removed his shirt and accessories along with it. You heard his belt rattle as the embarrassment filled you up more which is why you're red in the face.

Wriothesley grabbed the black and red box off the sofa that you didn't see since you passed by the sofa(or he just placed it there). Although you couldn't see he made a grabby motion with his hand. “Give me your hands bunny,” you moved your hands from your sides and lifted them towards him. You felt something clamp onto your wrist. It was Wriothesley's signature handcuffs.

He placed his hands on your waist, turning you over to your side. You feel some type of silk fabric wrap around your body; up and around your breast, your thighs, shoulders, and arms(that were bound by handcuffs already). You heard his belt jingle and shuffling of his pants. His large hardened cock sprang out from his boxers. It was slightly twitching and a white bead of precum at the slit. He leaned down, pinning his hands on both sides of your head and your legs on his shoulders.

He rubbed his cock on your pussy, coating it in your juices. You flinched at the sudden contact but got used to it and let out a few whimpers and moans. He pushed the tip into your entrance your pussy nearly engulfing the tip whole. He started to sink his cock inside you, wanting you to feel every inch possible. Your moans get more high pitched every time Wriothesley jolts his hips into you. It's like fuel to fire as your moan sends blood down his cock, making it grow bigger every second.

His entire length is sunk deep into your core. The tip almost forces its way into your cervix. Wriothesley starts to rock his hips back and forth. Getting faster as your moans and whimpers become more apparent to him.

The yellow glow from the fireplace cascaded your body, leaving both of you in a sheen of sweat. His cock repeatedly bumped against your cervix, it was big enough to hit your sweet spot and leaving a bulge in your stomach. Wriothesley let out a strangled chuckle and rubbed the bump on your stomach, occasionally pushing down on it. You let out yelp as your cuffed hands tried to cover your mouth. Drool was leaking onto the pillow as you turned your head to the side, your hair sticking onto you and the rest on the pillow.

His thrusts got harsher, he leaned down more, getting deeper into you as you were nearly folded over since your legs were on his shoulders.

His breathing got caught up in his throat as his cock began to twitch, both of those signs signaling his release. You came for the nth time as you arched your back. You didn't realize you came on his cock. Wriothesley leaned down giving cat licks to your chubby cheeks.

He soon came inside you, spurting ropes and globes of pure white cum filling your insides instantly.

You whimpered as Wriothesley pulled out. The sudden emptiness was gone. Your legs went limp and revealed your cunt that was spurting out his cum since you were over filled.

You felt the blindfold being lifted and revealed your bleary eyes to Wriothesley. “How do you like your gift bunny?” you looked up at him still panting. “I-I love it..” you said.

He chuckled. “Glad you do bunny, because we're not done.” your eyes went wide as Your husband flipped you onto your back, grabbing your hips and lifting them up. His hand reached in front of you to grab your chin and tilt it back, it was uncomfortable for your neck, he pushed his tongue inside your drooling mouth. He released your chin as your cuffed hands grasped at the pillow. He pushed himself back inside you with ease, to which earned him a yelp that went to a moan.

He bucked his hips more intently, you arched your back as he pressed his hand on your back, arching you further. Your breast jiggled with each harsh thrust he sends inside you. You were already stimulated due to the previous round you both went through. “A-Ah! Wriooo~ i-it's too much—f-fuckk!” your face was muzzled into the pillow, you felt the knot coil tightening in your stomach. Your juices webbed his cock, his legs were drenched in your cum. He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Are you gonna cum? Come for me bunny, come for me!” you came on command as he came inside you with a grunt.

You collapsed onto the carpet and laid your head on the pillow with Wriothesley still inside you. He released you from the cuffs and ribbons. He pulled out and brought your limp body to the sofa, now you were cuddling with him. He pushed his cock back inside not wanting any to spill out.

“You did well bunny, I love you so much.”

Im finally done with this bull

Made [ December 14th ]

Finished [ December 25th 9:53 ]

#𓆩ri.𓆪 #[ ♪o(〃＾▽＾〃)o♪ ] #✉️.txt #✎ suggestive 𓆪 #𓆩!smutty.𓆪 #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #Wriothesley x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #✎ other club characters #no yandere fic this time but next bit with blade from hsr #sigwinne #how tf do you spell her name

[eve-of-halloween]

Finished my new fish boi! He is a NG oc 

~~~~ About Prince Link ~~~~

Artfight | Toyhouse

Name: Link (Named after his father's idol/best friend, the hero of Hyrule.)

Title: Prince of the Zora

Sex: Male

Age: Young Adult. (can be drawn at any age from newborn-adult)

Height: Comes up to BOTW/TOTK Sidon's shoulders. (He's still growing)

Race: Zora

Family Tree:

Father: King Sidon

Mother: Queen Yona

Grandfather: Lord Dorephane

Design Elements:

Link's design takes aspects of all members of his family line. He is Green and banded just like his mother, however, the greens are less saturated and have a darker tone similar to the values of his father's red.

He has a yellow belly, cyan and yellow fins, and golden eyes just like his father and his face is much like his.

Link's head-tail takes elements from his Grandfather Dorephane's and has a secondary set of flippers with a trim of fin behind his primary set.

Link's ornaments are a dull gold color with Blue accents referencing the hair and eye color of his favorite uncle who he was named after. (You CAN NOT convince me that Sidon wouldn't name his kid after Link)

#zora #zora oc #zeldaoc #yona the zora #sidon the zora #prince sidon #king sidon #queen yona #prince link the zora #prince link #my art

[meaningofaeons]

Hello! Have you played the latest part of the xianzhou quest? If not ignore this ask lmao.

If yes, holy shi the potential for hurt comfort in the scenes of the final battle against phentylia??

I wanted to ask if you could write a hurt/comfort fic jing yuan x reader, where reader is in the battle and sees all the shit go down and is quite shaken.

Thanks!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ at the end of immortality

⊹ character(s) - jing yuan ⊹ word count - 829 ⊹ notes - SPOILERS FOR 1.2 TRAILBLAZE MISSION !!!, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is like jing yuan's right-hand in battle and in the seat of divine foresight/implied to be a guard of some sort to him, reader and jing yuan are not together but they're both pining hard, a bit angsty but still comfort, not edited sorry

hi anon omg. this ask got me giggling kicking my feet like YES... thank you for requesting!! (＾º◡º＾❁) (also im so sorry I made this a little more angsty than I expected to wtf!!!!)

You were mad. Furious, even.

Jing Yuan could tell without even beholding your expression that you were positively seething with rage.

Towards him.

He dare not say a word about your current state to your face, though. Not when you silently draped new bandages over his wounds, and not when your hands lingered just a bit longer than they should've.

Not when he could feel the near-imperceptible tremble of your fingertips as you carefully nursed him back to health, treating him like a precious ornament that may break at the slightest touch.

"...How bad is it?"

The General's hoarse voice cut the silence like Dan Heng's spear had cut right through his torso.

Your mind flashed back to the scene, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

"General!"

Jing Yuan fell through the air as Phantylia's grip faltered at last. He wasn't a Void Ranger, but...

Seeing the spear of the Vidyadhara High Elder pierce him had just about sent the same level of fear shooting through you. As though the weapon had pierced your chest, instead.

"Y/N, wait!"

"Imbibitor Lunae, what did you—?!"

Your fury came off in waves, your distress even more palpable. The aforementioned Vidyadhara—no, Dan Heng—approached you with the General in his arms, handing him off with little resistance as you helped the man to a stand.

He was still alive. You could've wept. He was still alive.

But he wasn't okay.

"I told you to stay back," you whispered, forcing your hands to still as you finished patching up his wound. They brushed over the space where Dan Heng's spear hit, and you winced at Jing Yuan's flinch.

At his slight chuckle, you worried he might come up with some witty quip that would undoubtedly enrage you into pounding your fist against his wounded back.

Instead, he only turned to gaze at you, golden eyes smoldering.

"You know I couldn't do that."

As angry as you were, you did know.

But still...

What use is a guard if their charge is always the one at the front lines?

As the General of the Xianzhou Luofu... what could you even do for such a brilliant man?

"If it had been you up there, I may have died in my worry. I'm not getting any younger, my dear."

"And neither am I. Do you have no care for the pain you put my heart through?"

Your words were far from proper, your actions even less so as you rested your weary head on the General's shoulder. He seemed to lack any concern for his own propriety, his hand reaching up to grasp your own, his rough thumb brushing your fingertips with a delicate tenderness you didn't want to think too much into.

"...I'm sorry."

Jing Yuan's relenting words were bittersweet to your wanting ears, roughened by his strain. You clutched his hand just a bit tighter.

"Is that an apology for your actions, or an apology for the fact that you'll continue to be reckless until the day you die?"

He chuckled more. The sound sent a warm, tingling feeling through your chest, a feeling that you desperately clutched to in your distress.

"Would you hit me if I said both?"

"I'll be merciful enough to save it for when you're in better shape."

The rumbling laughter continued, and you silently scolded the man for the chance of exacerbating his wounds. He only deflected the blame unto you for your quip, and you sighed out.

Ease. Your anger dissipated, fading into a comfortable silence that the General did not dare break again.

He also did not dare, however, to turn and face you. You were grateful for that.

Because in spite of your assuaged rage, your abated worries, you still fear many things.

You fear seeing new scars on Jing Yuan that you did not have to see before. You fear seeing the exhaustion grow in his youthful features, yet aged all the same. You fear the possibility that he is only a phantasm, that the mara has stricken your mind at last and all you have left of him is a pathetic delusion created by your own longing.

More than any of that, somehow, you fear that if he were to turn around in this very moment, you would cross that one line you had sworn never to touch.

The line that, when crossed, would allow you to abandon all restraint. The line that, when crossed, would mean you grasp your General in the way you've longed to, kissing him slowly to make sure he's really still here with you. To make him promise he would be here with you, forever, until the end of your immortality.

Judging from the way Jing Yuan placed his rough lips upon the back of your hand, you knew he was thinking the same.

Not yet. Not now, not even now.

But perhaps one day, it wouldn't be such a daunting wall to scale.

#jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai x reader #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan #jingyuan

[popatochisssp]

The Court AU has me DEAD!!! If you’d be willing, what sort of outfits would they wear? I’d love to draw them!

Anon, I had so many tabs open looking up medieval-type fashion and armor, we're talking like 30+, felt super awesome finishing this and closing them all 😌

Anyway--

Sans (Undertale): What’s black and blue and white all over? Why, him of course! His jester’s motley features a black-and-white diamond pattern, offset by bright, rich, royal blue—a mark of his service to the king. He doesn’t wear one of those silly hats, though…because he wears a silly hood instead! Less chance of falling off, you see. When not in costume he tends toward simple tunics, of decent material and often still in blue.

Papyrus (Undertale): Almost never out of full plate armor, even in downtime, he has to dress for the job he wants and that means being a shining metal bastion of knightly glory at all times! …Though he does often remove his helmet and hold it by his sword at his hip, or fasten it to his steed’s side. He’s a very handsome skeleton, it would be cruel to deny the people the chance to see their hero’s face!

Sky (Underswap Sans): Soft blues and yellows, as a squire only lightly armored—greaves and pauldrons, a mail shirt beneath his tunic if he’s expected to go into battle—but he considers even that much armoring to be overkill for what he’s doing. Still, his Captain insists, and it makes his brother feel better, so he takes care protecting himself. He has some nicer finery to wear about court, as a nobleman, but tends simpler for anything that might be dirtied or torn in training.

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): Rich green and earthy browns, his clothing tends to be without ostentation—no embroidery, no gold buckles or buttons, or anything especially elaborate. He may be noble but he’s a scholar and a recluse and prefers not to stand out much. Still, the fabrics of which his clothing is made are always fine, as coarse or stiff materials quite put him off. Mostly cottes—long belted tunics—with the occasional robe over, if it's cold.

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Blacks and browns, sturdy plain clothes which can stand up to considerable wear and tear. Often wears a short diamond-quilted gambeson and some leather armor (vambraces and greaves), but always has a sword belted to his hip and a cloak made of dire-wolf’s fur draped over his shoulders. If ever he should need to acknowledge his denounced family name, he does have some finer clothing stored away somewhere—in red—and a shiny gold signet ring with his family crest on it.

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate armor, dark metal heavily scratched and scorched, dents meticulously hammered back out. He also wears a tattered red cape about his shoulders that billows quite majestically behind him when he rides or runs into battle. He will occasionally dress down in laced tunics and breeches, still in red and black, fine but not too fine as to raise suspicion about his heritage. Should all that ever come out, he does have a suit of pristine night-black armor he’s been dying to inherit and a silken cape to pin about it with a golden clasp of the family’s crest.

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Mostly black but flaunts his privilege and royal ties with purple accents wherever possible. Brigandine armor with a fine gold-plated gorget and pauldrons and a few other ornamental trappings—he is the Empress’ personal guard and must in some capacity be as elegant. Very fine doublets and tunics for his (rare) downtime, often with gold threading, but not fond of most jewelries.

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): Dark colors and crisp whites, noble yet eccentric, he has a lot of fine doublets and other such court-wear but tends not to actually…wear them. He can mostly be found in loose-fitting cottes, baggy sleeves often penned up by leather armlets to keep them out of his paints. He has a fur-hooded cloak for travel or cold weather, but he rarely leaves his rooms, much less the castle, so he doesn’t don it often.

Slate (Horrortale Sans): Dark browns and off-white cream, simple rough-hewn clothing showing signs of wear and occasionally odd stains. He works in the stables, with animals, and being around animals so much makes it difficult to keep clean. He has a somewhat decent dark blue cloak that he’ll wear into town for errands, or in polite company—it has a hood to conceal the great jagged hole in his head that tends to make the squeamish or timid flinch away from him.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Still hasn’t quite shaken the habit to be armored, even when it isn’t necessary, but he’s cut down from full plate to chain mail only, much lighter and easier to move around in—which is vital when hurrying to the training field for an accident, or running to meet a wounded knight at the gates. He wears a simple tabard over his mail, blue with red edging (the Queen’s colors), and keeps a pouch of bandages and other aid supplies belted to his waist instead of a sword.

Ash (Undergloom Sans): The livery of the king’s court, gray and gold, but dyed into fabrics suitable for common folk. He still wears gray when not performing at court, tunics so thickly woven they could pass as a gambeson and often paired with hooded cloaks, but he keeps his golds set aside until needed to keep them in good condition. He takes equal care of his shiny brass sackbut (it’s a horn, with a very funny name but an instrument nonetheless) so it always plays well.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): Off-white and tan linens, loose and breathable for hot work in the kitchens, sleeves rolled up and pinned at the elbows to keep them from getting in the way. Always an apron about his waist, occasionally with food stains after a long day’s work but these he quickly tends to as soon as he’s able. He has nothing in the way of real finery but tries very hard to make sure what he has is clean and presentable.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Fine brocaded doublets of rich red and shining gold thread, as a duke and brother to a king, he does have to dress the part a bit. He wears more jewelry, especially rings, but nearly always still has his dire-wolf fur cloak over his shoulders. When called for executions, he dresses down quite a bit, in simple black cloth with only a leather pauldron over one shoulder to help brace the weight of his axe before he swings.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Half plate armor essentially at all times, even formal or polite occasions—he’s the owner of a stolen throne and all too aware that it could be stolen from him the same way he got it. His breastplate is scaled and his pauldrons are elaborately spiked, but it’s all black. The only pop of color on him is his crown, the same worn by Asgore and Undyne, gold and sharp, with rubies inlaid.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Chain mail over a finely-made kaftan and beneath a traveling cloak, the latter two with signs of wear from a long journey. His head is notably absent of a crown—left behind in the kingdom he fled—but a new one awaits him soon, of flashing silver and blue stone, depicting the phases of the moon. When fully established in his new kingdom, he may begin dressing as a proper king again, draping himself in the blue and silver finery of the land that sheltered him.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Browns, greens, and blacks, he wears light leather armor—really just a breastplate and vambraces—and a thick woolen cloak about his shoulders. He has no need of greaves for his shins, legs lost to an accident in the wilderness, but supplanted by magical prosthetics, living blackened wood provided by his land when he called upon it for aid. …Not that he’s fully accepted that it’s his land, keeping his crown of twisting copper and emerald tucked away in a saddlebag instead of on his brow. Maybe someday…

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Rich purple and verdant green, amidst a sea of black—he favors very fine fabrics with open lacing at the chest. Still not especially fond of jewelry, but wears considerably more decorative leather braces on forearms, shins, and even the occasional full-chest corset. (He has some chronic pain and the extra pressure and support in certain spots helps.) He wears considerably more plain clothes for knight-training purposes and when traveling wears a black cloak with a cowl that comes down over the hole in his face at a point, as the beak of a raven.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Usually in half plate splint mail armor for his patrols along the wall, but favors rusty oranges, brown and black for the tunics and boots and breeches he wears out of it. Often carries a lantern, and always has tinder in a pouch on his hip. Beside his pouch is a war-horn in case an alert would need to be called, loud enough to make everyone come running if it’s ever sounded.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): A cavalierly styled courtier, at first having made do with graciously lent clothing and now being able to buy his own in a whole variety of rich colors—yellow, blue, magenta, and on. His aim is to look at home in court, which means he must dress as other courtiers do, so he has doublets and fine tunics and many, many fashionable capelets with embroidery and stylish pins, as well as a few equally chic plumed hats. The other courtiers look to him now for the latest fashion trends and he couldn’t be happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): A bit more subdued in style than his brother…though only a bit. He favors black frocks, almost as a cleric would wear, but beneath them, elegant doublets in greens and yellows as vibrant as anything his twin wears, with fine silver filigree work in his buckles and pins and clasps. He’s the pinnacle of restrained class and taste and it’s no wonder at all that the king should respect him so highly if his care in thought is as his care in appearance.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): Deep, dark black from head to toe, most prominently a long hooded cloak with two eye-lights glowing in the darkness. He always wears gloves and never lets his hood down, as he’s not especially fond of his metal bones and doesn’t really wish to be seen. It’s difficult to see in the daytime, but at night he’s trailed by faint wisps of ghostly light in all colors of the rainbow, such a strange sight that many a drunkard who’s seen him has poured out their bottle presuming they’d had quite a bit too much.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): Full plate armor, of course, but as he’s now some sort of spectral entity, it (and he!) glows and is slightly see-through. Being ghostly has washed out his colors quite thoroughly which is unfortunate—mostly all white with hints of silvery blue—but on the up-side he seems able to change his appearance some by will alone, donning or discarding his helmet at will, manifesting a majestic cape for himself out of the ether, and so on. It seems a fair enough trade to him!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): A man at court now, he’s donned an eye-patch and abandoned the trappings of prospective knighthood, fully embraced courtier fashion…if a bit ‘eccentrically.’ He favors bright yellows and spring greens, flowing garments of fine cloth layered beneath and over leather vambraces, gorget, and tasset. All these are elaborately, intricately designed and certainly make the similarly intricate gold jewelry (with multicolored gems) that he wears at wrist and neck stand out, but it’s hardly in fashion… Still, the mystic’s thinking is often inscrutable.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): Unlike his brother, very fashionable and eye-catching, in rich amaranths and brilliant turquoises, with even the occasional lavender. He has many fine embroidered doublets, threaded liberally with gold, and wears many pieces of gold jewelry as well—necklaces, bracelets, pins, and brooches. When showing the birds of the crown at court or bidding them on a royal hunt, he wears the livery of the crown-proper—royal purple and gold—and always has a thick leather falconer’s glove on his left hand.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): What’s black and white and red all over? Well, newspapers haven’t been invented yet, so it’s him, of course! He’s no jester so he hasn’t a motley to wear to work, but he is a performer and does dress in the livery of the king, which is red and black. The material is a bit finer than he’s used to, but being that he’s no longer wearing rags and rotting in a hole, he’s quite pleased with it and doesn’t mind the bright colors that help him attract the eyes of many comely nobles at court. Off-duty, he sticks to loose, somewhat open tunics—red still very much preferred.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): Laced linen shirts, not especially loosely fitting due to his largeness in the chest and shoulders but he hasn’t burst any seams in awhile so the measurements must be somewhat correct. He’s fond of white and a true connoisseur of red, all shades from dark to very light. He keeps an array of small carpentry tools—hammers, chisels, things for measuring—in a roll on his hip, a dedicated apprentice to the core.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): All black, pourpoint armor beneath fine silk doublets but almost disappointingly plain otherwise—no embroidery, no ornament, or stitched pattern, or brocade. Over this he wears a cloak, equally fine and with at least some ostentation, a bit of silver stitched decoration that matches the intimidatingly clawed silver gauntlet he wears upon his left hand—a symbol of his wealth, if not his status. These flashy items are for matters of court only, as he has a much more nondescript hooded cloak and less identifiable sharp implement which he uses for matters of stealth and misdeeds when it is important that he not be recognized.

Hunter (Swapfell Frution Papyrus): A prince in princely attire…mostly. He happily flaunts the color purple but proudly wears it with the black of his old family name, and drapes himself in silk tunics, fine (mostly decorative) pauldrons, capes and capelets. He tends to show off a bit more of his chest than seems appropriate for a man of his station, and seems to wear his elegant silver jewelry in ways such that the eye is drawn there, and…other places, but few question the whims of royalty. His pewter crown is heavy and inelegant and he’s talked much with his brother about how angry people would be if he had it melted and recast into something more stylish.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): Plain, rough tunics, in black and dark brown. He wears a heavy fur-lined gabardine as it gets quite cold in the dungeons, though it’s uncertain where he managed to get such a nice garment. He keeps a knife on his belt, large and jagged-toothed, and though he hasn’t had need to use it yet, the threat of it tends to keep most prisoners from attempting to bring him harm.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): He’s traded in his full plate armor for a comfortably fit leather jerkin, accompanied by matching gauntlets to protect his hands and torso (inasmuch as they need protection, without flesh) from the thorns he trims back every day. He mostly wears black and white and brown, all things closely fit to his body, less they snag overmuch and need to be replaced too often. His clothing is simple but well-suited to his work, and he wears it nicely.

#anonymous #headcanons #court au #undertale #underswap #underfell #swapfell/fellswap #horrortale #undergloom #horrorfell #horrorswap #horrorswapfell #gastertale #transcendtale #ascendswap #underfell fruition #swapfell fruition #descendtale

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 1

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome on board Flight CM80072 from London to Ancetol. This is your Captain speaking. My name is…”

The broadcast started as you stuffed your ears with your earbuds. The screeching static along with the horrible noise whenever the captain chewed the mic in his lips and popped every consonant as if he couldn’t speak otherwise.

You should have brought your earplugs.

Or fly your private plane.

Correction: Fly your family’s private plane.

But you guessed they were still mad at you, which was probably the reason why the bodyguard they sent simply handed you an envelope with an airplane ticket inside.

“Would you like to see the menu?” The stewardess asked you with a kind smile, handing you the thick book of menu, “We have foie gras, smoked salmon, or veal rolls for the main course. Of course, you can also choose the vegan meal. All the ingredients are listed below the dishes.”

“I’ll have the veal roll.” You took a sip of the lemon-flavored soda she gave you earlier, “First course - the shrimp, and dessert would be the … ice cream, with extra berry toppings?”

“Excellent choice, Miss Y/L/N.” The stewardess nodded, taking notes of your demands, the impeccable smile still on her lips, “Any drinks?”

The bodyguard to your back coughed. Very loudly. Very spontaneously. As if he would be dead if someone didn’t hand him a glass of water or ship him off to the chemotherapy very soon.

“Cappu…” you changed your mind as soon as you were “reminded” that you were not allowed to drink alcohol, "Screw it, apple cider please.”

“Miss -” The bodyguard in the full black suit tried to warn you, “His Lordship won’t be pleased.”

“His Lordship,” you sniggered, “desperate measure to demonstrate his control over me, huh? Plus, I don’t think I recall our King has issued any announcement on the succession of the title. So, Lord him all you like. Pathetic man. I’m not respecting someone who participated perhaps even less than a minute in creating me.” You muttered the last few words under your breath.

You could practically imagine what “His Lordship” would do when he hears the report from the bodyguard, word for word.

He might throw some crystal ornaments to the wall, shouting at the top of his lungs, as if that would reinforce his authority.

A man to your right chuckled. Like you, he was just approached by the stewardess regarding his meal choice, now sipping scotch on the rocks. You glared at him. He looks like a man in his 30s. Terribly well dressed. The suit fitted his tailoring right up to his cufflinks. Golden cufflinks, you might add. White shirt without a tie. Long hair with a full-grown beard.

“Sorry, can’t help but overhear.” He raised his hands and folded them on his knees, “I’m Guy. Guy Thomas.”

“Mr. Thomas,” you shared your given name with him, but left out your family name, offering to shake his hand.

“Guy.” He stressed, “You’re from Ancetol?”

You were born in the outskirts of Ancetol, the capital of your home country, Ballenia, one of the few countries that are still ruled by a monarch. Your mother was relieved that you were blessed with a quick birth. But your father wanted nothing more than a boy. A boy that could take the family title and carry the family honor. Probably why he didn’t make an appearance until the second day of your birth. Reluctantly. You might add.

You spent the next couple of years of your life in a small town in Ballenia, growing up with your mother who thought innocently that your father would miraculously love you and accept you both as family.

You stopped believing in “a happy marriage” a long time ago. No. You stopped believing in “marriage”. And the fairy tales. And the lovely stories that told you one day, Prince Charming would come to rescue you riding his big white horse and ask you to be his wife, and some happily ever after bullshit.

No.

The reality was, fairly close to the story of your family, where the “Cinderella”, your mother, was abandoned by the prince, who is your father, and he had a couple of mistresses when Cinderella was only allowed to be presented during formal circumstances.

Ah yes, after all, a divorce would destroy the reputation of His Lordship. Making them look bad if they kick a civilian woman out of the door. The press would go frenzy about it, spreading the news that the “Cinderella” had been divorced by the cold-hearted heir of the Duke.

Luckily, or, unlucky for your father, it was your grandfather who carried the Duke title. Your grandfather who was equally displeased with you, a useless girl. Your grandfather, who passed away quite recently. Three days ago.

Hence, your urgent return. And some pretenses for the reputation of your family.

So, sunglasses it is then. During the funeral. With a white handkerchief. No one will see your dry eyes incapable of producing tears, not for that old bastard anyway. You thought to yourself, eyeing the huge bulk of a man next to you.

Did you forget to mention that the late Duke did the same trick as your father? Marrying a civilian woman and keeping a dozen mistresses in the same mansion they live in?

“You sound local.” You commented on the way he speaks English, “Are you from Ancetol as well?”

“Aww, what gave it away?” The man switched to fluent Ballenian, the language you haven’t heard of for years, and asked you, sounding sincere, “Is it the ‘r’? I always mess up the ‘r’.”

“Your name doesn’t sound local though,” you buckled your seatbelt as the stewardess stepped close to inform you the plane was ready to depart, lowering your eyes to fumble with the metal link, “Guy Thomas. Very American.”

Ari, no, Guy, pushed a little smile on his lips.

Of course, this name sounded American. You would freak out if he told you his true name.

“My mother is American and my father is Ballenian.” Which was 75% true because his mother was half American. The other half Danish.

He went by “Guy Thomas” when he was having fun among people and didn’t want to spoil everything by announcing he was Ari. The fucking prince of Ballenia.

Total mood killer.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” You joked, “Or visiting your family?”

“Mostly business.” Ari fabricated a lie out of nowhere, “I work as a manager of my family business.” Technically that’s not a lie. He even slipped in some details for credibility.

Family business, the kingdom.

Manager, well sort of, since his dad owned the country.

“And I’m back in Ballenia to secure a deal.”

You lacked interest in business and all that, waving your hand as if dismissal, but allowing the stewardess to come and take away the food and drink in front of you, “hard to do business nowadays, especially when the Minister of Foreign Trade is a jackass.”

“You speak as if you know him.”

“Please, he’s been in that position for fifteen years.” You rolled your eyes.

The minister tried to get you to marry his hideous, lazy, pig-like son who knows nothing more than eating, smoking, and partying. Promising your father to “sweeten the deal” by favoring the company your mother owned but your father controlled.

Your father really would have said yes if it weren’t for the deal years ago, promising you to another man already. A man more powerful than the minister or his son will ever be.

“Of course, he is a jackass. If not now, then somewhere in his 15 years of gripping the foreign trade.” But you were not telling a total stranger about you being promised around like a Ming-Dynasty Vase. “Just look at the new announcement he made with the U.S. What deal did he make? None! Claiming that ‘further efforts are needed’. Further my ass. The Ambassador from the States could barely keep the smile on his face for Christ’s sake.”

Ari took a mental note to look into this “jackass” Minister.

“What about you?” He asked, “Visiting your family? Plan on staying here long?”

You pursed your lips on hearing the question.

Visit your family? How about dead family?

You were here to attend your grandfather, the late Duke’s funeral.

Staying long?

You wouldn’t curse yourself like that.

The longer you stay, the more probable your father and your mother will talk you into marriage.

You loved your mother, but for Christ’s sake, “I hope not.”

Ari didn’t respond to your reply. He simply hummed, making you confused about whether he agreed with you or not.

The plane did not wait for a minute more before departing into the air. A short while of gravity shift brought you 30,000 feet up in the sky. You pulled down the blind as the annoying sunlight burned your eyes, getting up for a bit more leg room and heading to the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, a violent turbulence threw you off your own feet.

The soft ring of the safety belt sign turned the orange light on, while you slowly came to your senses that you weren’t embraced by the ground, but rather a firm body wrapping around you. One arm on your back, holding your upper body, another hung – rather awkwardly – in the air. You were sitting on his thick thighs sideways. Your ankle hurting. You were pretty much sure you twisted it with your damn heels.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The bodyguard hurried towards you, completely disregarding the tremble of the plane, rushing to your side. “Miss, I need you to try and stand up.” He held out an arm, leaning towards you to help you up.

Seeing him trying to assess how hurt your ankle was, you were very touched that he was concerned and reacted quickly. Maybe a small pay rise for him if you get back to your home?

Your bodyguard sighs, shaking his head with a disapproving look, “If this is your way of trying to escape the deal, his lordship won’t be pleased.”

Oh yes, the deal. The deal that simply packed you like a FedEx item and threw you to the palace door. The deal that promised you to the prince, right after you were born. The deal that you were told by your parents to honor for as long as you can remember. The deal lurking in the corner and bit you in the ass whenever you had done something to displease your father, reminding you over and over again that the only reason that you were alive was the fucking deal.

Apparently, your father had left out a most important piece of detail when instructing this bodyguard to “guard” you from running away.

You hardly ever do as you’re told.

“I think my ankle is broken.” You said dryly, pointing at your feet, not even trying to pretend that you can convince no one with your bland facial expression, “Can’t get up.”

Ari bit his lips so that he wouldn’t laugh.

You were sure as hell an interesting soul.

If he had any doubt or concerns regarding marrying you, a complete stranger in a matter of weeks, he now had none.

He thought you were the kind of girl who was a black sheep in the family, a wild child, with tattoos on your eyeballs or something. But you were nothing like his imagination.

Wild? Sure.

Black sheep? Compared to your father, the to-be-Duke, who seemed more like what the term was describing.

Ari raised his eyebrows, “Although I wouldn’t oppose you sitting on my thighs,” he nodded towards the stewardess who lurked behind the thin veil of curtain, “I’m afraid she would be unable to do her job properly if this continues.”

You clenched your jaw. Ignoring the extended hand from your bodyguard, you stood up, feeling instantly a sharp pain stinging your bones.

Bathroom was long forgotten, not that you have a chance to reach there on your own, you slumped down the seat and made sure you pushed the seat back until you could almost lie down like on a gurney. Lifting the hurting ankle on your other ankle, you closed your eyes.

Fuck his lordship.

The pain throbbing on your ankle. Your body dipped in both the coolness of the AC and the heat from your spine and the back of your head.

The few hours on the plane became more and more unbearable.

The veal roll didn’t lift your spirit in any way when it was brought to you.

The meat itself was fine. Only that it tasted like wax to you. You let out a long exhale as you outstretched your leg to ease the stress. Finishing the meal barely, you pushed the plate away, not even looking at the cider that you were thrilled to piss your father off with, and asked the stewardess for some paper. Empty sheets for writing.

She was clearly dumb-founded by your request, but hurried to carry your idea out.

You thanked her when she brought you some sheets, torn from some notepad as there were jigsaw razor edges on the side of the paper.

If the pain and the fact that every second you were closer to Ballenia was bothering you, you only needed something more bothering to take your mind off.

Ari narrowed his eyes when he cast a glimpse that you pulled out a pen from your bag from the overhead compartment and started writing on the empty sheets of paper.

Call him nosey but he wanted to know what you were writing.

Too inconvenient for him, your letters scribbled too small for his eyes to see. Occasional glimpses couldn’t help him read your writing. Nor that the content on your phone was clear enough for him to read either.

He did know that should be a text of some kind.

What text though? That was the real question.

…not some kind of text that could curse the royal family of the Ballenia, right?

Ari was almost amused by his own thoughts, before a shiver ran down his body and stuck an idea in his mind that this was totally and perfectly possible.

…you wouldn’t, would you?

Hard to tell. You weren’t exactly obeying the orders to marry him. Delaying it a couple of times in the past three years. And now, hearing that you had just called a minister “asshole” … or was it “butt ass” (?), anyway, something about ass, behind his back, and that you could mull a long face over your own bodyguard? Ari couldn’t figure out your temper and your actions all of a sudden.

The adjectives, that your father and his father used when they were talking about you, didn’t even come close to you.

“Kind” “Warm” “Considerate” “Perfect Princess”.

“Exceptional”. Maybe this was the right word.

Definitely different and strong-minded.

He could almost imagine the changes you would bring to his family and the kingdom.

He could discuss politics with you. You had your own thoughts and ideas, which was a good sign. Talk about foreign policies. Speaking of, he should really have someone fetch your dissertation from your university to understand where lies your interests. He’d allow gossip on the table too, if that’s what you like.

Ari hated gossip.

And there he was, imagining the future with you, before you were willing to marry him.

“If you want the book, I can lend it to you.” Your voice snapped him out of his fantasies. You had stopped scribing and rubbing your knuckles with your other hand. Pursing your lips together, you had, obviously, found out that he had his eyes glued to you.

“I’m sorry?”

“The History and Nature of International Relations.” You shrugged, twirling your wrist and your shoulder for writing too long, “I gotta warn you though, it’s pretty boring.”

Ari knew the correct answer to his question, but he asked either way, “You are studying it?”

“No. Yes. Hmpf,” You pouted at your change of words, “I did. I was. I was studying International Relations.” Something blipped in your mind, “Did you know this book?”

Ari smiled, “Took a course in International Relations years ago. I’m surprised they are still using it as an example of a textbook – where did you study?”

“NYU.” That’s a plain fat lie. You had a friend studying at NYU, but you were not planning on giving all your personal information away to a complete stranger, “You?”

Ari cocked his eyebrows. You were studying in Cambridge. He read that from your file.

“University of Ancetol.” Because studying there demonstrated the confidence of the Royal family in their country’s educational system. From there, the lies weaved themselves from his lips, “Got an undergrad degree and started to take over the family business. I visited New York last year,” along with his father, the King, but they travelled as quietly as they could, initiating a state visit without disturbing the press, “I miss school, now that I’m thinking of it.” Ari sighed deeply, “Wanted to get a grad degree but work’s too busy.”

“A manager in your family business?” You teased him light-heartedly, “Surely you can spare the time and study for a grad degree.”

Ari chose to evade this question. Reaching for his suit pocket, he fished out a business card with his name (Guy Thomas) and phone number on it, handing it to you, “Grad school doesn’t exactly tolerate me flying all over the world for … my family business.” He pushed his soft brown hair behind his ears, his eyes sparkling with a hint of joy that he had successfully fooled you, “Jewelry, my specialty. Diamonds, pearls, gemstones … call me if you need anything.”

“Oh, and she got her Master’s degree two months ago.” Ari casually dropped this to his parents in the middle of having dinner, he almost felt proud of his future wife, “Majoring in Political Science and International Relations. With a merit… no, distinction. The top 10% of her class.”

“We want a princess, not a college professor.” His father looked rather disappointed, “We were promised a princess.”

Ari didn’t understand.

If it were to be a marriage without love, he’d rather his spouse would be clever than bimbos who need help spelling “distinction”. Clever would mean he has a handful to deal with, yes, but what’s the fun in talking with someone who only cares about mani-pedi and the latest fashion magazines when he would be running the country?

Why wouldn’t they want someone smart as his wife?

“Your father is right, Ari,” his mother, Queen Olivia, reminded him with a softer tone, “we don’t need someone academically outstanding. We only want her to care for your home, you, and your future children.” She then turned to Ari’s father, King Victor, with blame framing her tone, “Told you should’ve just kept her with us when she was born. I knew Y/L/Ns were incompetent in raising our son’s future wife.”

Ari nearly spat out his food, “HOUSEWIFE?” Earning the “Shhh” from the Queen, he ignored the palace rules and the rules of being a prince altogether, “You want a HOUSEWIFE as the future queen?”

“For the moment.” Olivia waved her hand as if all this was not important, “Only temporal. After you get acquainted with the Upper House, you could divorce her and we’ll find you a proper wife.”

Taglist: @irishhappiness @patzammit

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fluff #prince!ari levinson #royalty au

[coolancientstuff]

The Temple of Venus in Baalbek (Heliopolis), Lebanon was built in the 200s CE to honor the goddess of love, sex and fertility. Venus was derived by the Romans from the Greek goddess Aphrodite, who herself was inspired by the Near Eastern goddess Astarte. This temple's cult likely incorporated elements of both Roman Venus and the local Astarte.

The temple itself has many novel and unique features found nowhere else in Classical architecture. Five semicircular exedrae run along the outer wall, framing arched niches decorated with carved doves and seashells that probably contained statues in ancient times. Above each niche a festoon of leaves and fruit hangs, symbolizing fertility. The pentagonal column bases are without parallel in antiquity, and no other examples are known. The interior is less well preserved, but it can be safely assumed by the lavishness of the construction that it was once sumptuously decorated with paintings, statues, colored marbles and golden ornaments.

The temple has an eventful history, being also a site of persecutions of early Christians under Julian the Apostate, the last pagan emperor of Rome. Sozomen, a late antique historian, says in his Ecclesiatical Histories:

The inhabitants of Heliopolis, near Mount Libanus, and of Arethusa in Syria, seem to have surpassed them in excess of cruelty. The former were guilty of an act of barbarity which could scarcely be credited, had it not been corroborated by the testimony of those who witnessed it. They stripped the holy virgins, who had never been looked upon by the multitude, of their garments, and exposed them in a state of nudity as a public spectacle and objects of insult. After numerous other inflictions they at last shaved them, ripped them open, and concealed in their viscera the food usually given to pigs; and since the swine could not distinguish, but were impelled by the need of their customary food, they also tore in pieces the human flesh.

I am convinced that the citizens of Heliopolis perpetrated this barbarity against the holy virgins on account of the prohibition of the ancient custom of yielding up virgins to prostitution with any chance comer before being united in marriage to their betrothed. This custom was prohibited by a law enacted by Constantine, after he had destroyed the temple of Venus at Heliopolis, and erected a church upon its ruins."

Whether Sozomen's account is an exaggeration or not, there is archaeological evidence that the temple was indeed converted into a church, dedicated to Saint Barbara. According to the (comparatively late) Christian legend, Barbara was the daughter of a Heliopolitan dignitary, Dioscorus, who still worshipped the old gods. When he learned that she had been baptized, he killed Barbara and was immediately struck by lightning. Up til the present day, Saint Barbara is invoked if people want to be protected against lightning.

Because the monument continued to be in use, the temple of Venus is comparatively well-preserved. Unbroken religious activity has continued on almost the same site since antiquity, and there's still a small mosque next to the temple of Venus. The Greek-Orthodox church of Baalbek, which is close by, is still dedicated to Saint Barbara.

[meadowlarkx]

grief and pride - embroidery for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 4, Gardening & Landscape Architecture! I was thinking about memory and how Elves might tell of particular places in adornments on clothing (imagining both of these designs on sleeves.)

First: Years of the Trees Fëanorian ornamentation, reminders of the Gardens of Lórien where Míriel lay, with Finwë's crest.

Second: Late First Age or Second Age Iathrim ornamentation, reminders of Menegroth and the First Kinslaying.

welcome to 'more photos and rambles at length'!!

Working on these little guys for a while I had time to think a fair amount about them. The concept of being literally clothed in one's sorrows feels very Elven and Tolkien to me. It's something about the long years and accumulating griefs, laying claim to and embodying them (powerful!), and the accompanying actions and grudges, and it's a thread that runs through both these groups. Fëanor is one of the first in the narrative to have this sort of memory/shadow on his heart, that of Míriel's passing. I love the similarities and connections between him and Míriel and the way she haunts the story, so I really enjoy the idea of Fëanor (and his sons!) reminding everyone of her absence subtly or unsubtly at every chance, including with their clothing--a mark of family loyalty which is also a nice fuck you to Indis and her children. Lórien is lush and verdant with golden flowers and mountain immortelle, don't @ me silvery tolkiengateway descriptions. I wanted this one to feel bright and vivid to echo the noontide of Valinor and the family's pride and brilliance. Finwë's crest got included in the design partly because it's less complicated than Fëanor's crest (shh), but also because I can completely see Fëanor making a(nother) claim to heirdom by wearing it.

Then of course he sets in motion greater horrors to remember. I am always thinking (@swanmaids has a great post about this) of the support Elwing canonically has in Sirion for her decision not to relinquish the Silmaril. And after seeing the 2nd kinslaying, it had to be a difficult, brave, potentially very controversial decision to hold on to it, but people are with her on this--I imagine motivated partly by real anger and grief over all they had lost and insistence upon memory, pride, dignity, identity etc. which probably remain with the few who survive the Sirion kinslaying too. And remembering Menegroth's beauty goes hand-in-hand with the grief--so I went for a bleaker look here, not the deep forest I usually picture (the 2 green vines, though, symbolizing in my head the surviving royal family/Peredhel!). This design being more of a picture of the place and less "abstract" was an attempt to gesture towards some cultural and stylistic differences in art, etc. I know this one isn't exactly a garden, but if we squint all of Doriath is an enclosed garden, so...!

Also here are the other pics. I'm imagining them bigger, but they are pretty little in real life!

#tolkien ekphrasis week #TEW Day 4 #silmarillion #silm #miriel #míriel #feanor #fëanor #doriath #sirion #elwing #etc etc. #i mean--i was thinking of thranduil full disclosure but #thranduil and maglor <3 dressing up the barbies... but ! #embroidery #my art #my posts #the silmarillion #menegroth #lórien #estë #este #feanorians #peredhel #there i think now i've captured every possible tag lmao #those are birch & sycamore on the doriath one! i don't know anything about ecology i only know colors #proudest of the little needle and thread for miriel

[cypressmoons]

neuvillette doesn’t care for spending money on niceties.

he cares even less about the holidays. he finds the blatant consumerism to be exhausting, the constant pressure to always give, give, and give more, as if he should pretend to care about every person he’s ever spoken to while they pretend to care about him, fake smiles and forced pleasantries like it would cost them a limb if they did anything else. it’s nothing but a façade held up by the sweet coaxing words of material culture.

but when he sees the warm yellow of the string lights reflected in your eyes like the dancing shimmer in a snow globe, he caves in.

his expression softens as he willingly lets you drag him around the christmas market. the air smelled of overpriced fried spiral potatoes from a nearby food stall, and the sky above your heads are lit with a million tiny little starry lights, pieced together by strings hooked on the walls to either side of you. and stretching as far as his eyes can see is the crowd, decked out in hats and mittens and for archons’ sake, reindeer antler headbands.

it would not have been his activity of choice for his sunday evening, but who was he to say no to you?

a surprised gasp escapes your lips as you tug excitedly on his sleeve, pointing at the store window that has every single possible ornament one can think of. your feet are leading the both of you there before he can even react, and the next thing he knows is the strong waft of warm air hitting his face when you pull open the door.

an oversized christmas tree sits in the middle of the store, the branches bending under the weight of hundreds of ornaments, ribbons, and glittery gift tags with people’s well wishes written on them. neuvillette barely takes his eyes off of you for one second and you’re gone, his arm suddenly feeling empty as you’re already far down the aisle, picking up and examining every ornament that catches your eye like a child being shown the entire world’s supply of candy.

he’s not one to like crowded and overheated places, but the lovestruck smile remains permanently etched on his lips as he squeezes through the crowd to find you. noticing him coming, you hold out your arms to show him the ornament you’re holding like a kid proudly showing off their drawing.

“look! it’s soooo cute!”

you spin the little plastic dog around to give him a better look. it’s a clever looking golden retriever with a red santa hat and a string of colourful christmas tree ornaments around his neck.

“it is very cute, love,” he admits, not missing the way your contagious smile seems to grow bigger. he wonders how people around you haven’t started smiling yet.

your eyes slightly widen when you flip the price tag around, quickly putting the ornament back into its place. “oh,” you exclaim softly, more so to yourself before launching into a self-reassuring affirmation, “i don’t need this i don’t need this i don’t need this-”

“y/n.”

neuvillette’s voice cuts off your muttering and you halt in an almost cartoonish way, blinking at him in question.

“you can get anything you want.”

“but it’s twenty dollars-”

“it’s on me.”

your mouth drops open in surprise, but only for a second before you quickly gather your composure.

“it’s so overpriced though, we already have so many ornaments at home-”

“love.” he cuts you off again, this time with a warm hand to your cheek so you could look at him, “you can have anything you want.”

you almost melt, and it’s definitely not from the store’s heater on full blast.

“really?” you eye the little dog again, tempted by such a cute thing but still hesitant. you never liked when other people spent money on you. the happiness from seeing the adorable little face is not worth the marked up price and the guilt that comes with having people buy things for you.

“anything you want,” neuvillette repeats. he probably will not rest until he sees you happy with the small golden retriever toy in your hands.

and so you do. he does not hesitate when the cashier tells him the total price or when he taps his card on the pinpad. even with the million lights on the tree and overhead, all he can see is the bright twinkle in your eyes and your grin as you thank him yet again for indulging you.

neuvillette doesn’t care for spending money on niceties, unless it is you on the receiving end. he would gladly give all the money he has without a second thought just to see your smile, so beautiful and so radiant that it puts the star on top of the tree to shame.

and that night, as you snuggle into him under the blankets, the little christmas tree in your home has a new friend.

© cypressmoons 2023, do not copy, steal, repost, or translate.

masterlist

#moon’s writings 🔖 #favoniuslibrary #i’m violently ill rn #me and who WHEN #all my friends have got bfs WHY AM I STILL SINGLE #there’s such a nice christmas market in my city #but i am alone #and sad #:D #genshin impact #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff

[munsonhoneybaby]

Beginning Traditions | Eddie Munson X F!Reader

Summary: It’s your first Christmas in your new home with Eddie and the two of you are ready to explore the next steps you’ll take together as you form your own Christmas traditions.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, just some heavy making out honestly nothing bad in this one

A/N: takes place in december of ‘94. bit more of a blurb/drabble. this was originally gonna be some super sweet extensive thing with a lil breeding kink and some sex by the fireplace but uh- the month really got away from me. i’ll try and make it up to y’all with whatever i post next <3

The bluesy cadence of Elvis’s voice floated quietly through the main rooms of your home, the old holiday records your family had passed down having been dusted off in the name of the season. It was certainly a change of pace from the rock and metal cassettes you typically had playing. The golden twinkle of the Christmas lights worked hand in hand with the flickering fireplace to fill the room with a warm glow.

Four inches of snow blanketed the ground outside and, according to the weather report, the elements wouldn’t be letting up anytime soon. Inside, however, Eddie had turned up the heat and started the fire while you had made two mugs of hot chocolate ‘with all the fixins’. The Christmas tree was fully decorated, including multiple ornaments the two of you had made together. The only thing missing was the star on top, which was what led you to balance precariously at the top of your step stool, stretching to reach the top of the eight-foot tree.

Warm palms met your exposed skin as your boyfriend of eight years grasped your hips to steady you. “You gotta be more careful, pretty girl. Gonna gimme a heart attack.”

“Eds, babe, the ladder’s like two feet tall. If anything, I’m worried about takin’ the tree down with me.” You fidgeted with the fake branches, “Is the star sitting straight?”

“Looks perfect, honey.” He held a hand out to help you step down, tugging you a few steps back to take a look.

You hummed in agreement as he kissed your temple, your back pressing into his chest. “It’s pretty. You did a good job on the lights.”

He smiled at you before glancing out the window where the wind howled and the tree branches shook. “Thank God I put up the lights outside yesterday. Who knows when this storm’s gonna let up.”

Hip bumping his, you gave him a suppressed smirk. “Oh, I’m sure we’ll find ways to keep busy. I just hope we don’t lose power, even with the heat going I’m still freezing.”

“If we can find ways to keep busy, we can definitely find a way to keep warm. Don’t you worry, honey baby.”

A ding from the oven drew you to the kitchen as Eddie put away the step stool. Grabbing the bag he’d stowed away in the guest room, he met you in the kitchen where you were swapping out the freshly baked sugar cookies for unbaked cookie dough. “Hey, I’ve got somethin’ for us to do tonight.”

“When did you go to Family Video?” You frowned in confusion at the bag in his hands.

Ignoring your question, he asked, “Remember that one kids’ Christmas movie you liked that came out last year? The Tim Burton one?”

“The Nightmare Before Christmas?” The smile spreading on your face had him pulling the brand-new VHS from the bag. With a little squeal, you took it from him to inspect it. He’d even gotten one with a plastic hardcover instead of a paper one. Your arms wound around his neck with a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Eddie!”

Squeezing your waist right back, he chuckled. “‘Course, pretty girl. Why don’t you go turn the movie on and I’ll make us some popcorn, hm?”

Less than a year until he’d turn thirty, and even after so many years with you he still stood in the doorway to watch you bend over and put the VHS in– only then did your boyfriend attend to his task of making popcorn. The hot bag burned his fingers as he dumped the microwaved popcorn into a big bowl. He joined you on the couch after pressing play for you, the festive pattern of your matching pajama pants blending together as your legs curled against his.

Eddie eyed your content expression as you watched the movie with a small smile. It had been a philosophy of yours to try and maintain the spirit of the holiday season for as long as Eddie had known you. Even when he’d still lived with Wayne, you’d insist on coming over to help decorate the trailer. He still remembers asking you about it on your first Christmas together as a couple. My family doesn’t really get along, you’d explained with an expression of shame that made his chest hurt. Not a lot of people show up to celebrate, and there’s always a fight when they do. I guess I just wanna try and enjoy what I have around times like this, y’know? Bring people together. He looked over at the two stockings hanging from the mantle of the fireplace and imagined more hanging beside them. “So, are you gonna leave cookies and milk out for Santa this year?”

Meeting his eyes out of the corner of yours, you smiled and popped a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “I s’pose I could if Santa actually wants to sneak in the living room at midnight to put the presents under the tree.”

“Well, I think he’s going to. He’s gonna need the practice if he’s gonna have a little one or two to deliver presents to in the Christmases to come.” He tried to keep a lightheartedly teasing expression on his face, but part of him tried to gauge how you would react to that.

“Little ones, huh?”

“Doesn’t have to be by next Christmas,” He reassured with a little smile. “All this’s just makin’ me think about it.”

“Yeah?” Your hand soothed over his clothed chest before slipping beneath his shirt to do the same to his skin. “Eddie Munson’s really thinkin’ about kids?”

His face flushed, head tilting down as his eyes darted around. “I don’t know, it’s just…we’re in such a good place– and I wanna stay like this for a while longer, I do, ‘cause this is perfect, y’know? I just think we’re getting there, I guess. Like maybe it’s time to start talking about parenting stuff a little more and preparing together?”

Cupping his cheek, you met his gaze with a small smile. You couldn’t help but kiss him, fingers winding into the loose messy bun that was falling out at the base of his neck. “We’ll talk about it, Eds. I promise.” You could feel his smile against your lips as they molded to his again, his arms surrounding you to draw you into his lap. “Eddie, the movie,” You pouted half-heartedly into the kiss.

“We’ve got it on VHS now, babe. We can watch it anytime,” He argued as his mouth found its way to your neck. Head rolling back to give him more room, you pulled your borrowed scrunchie from his hair. His hands wandered from your hips over your waist and up your back, mapping out each curve as though he didn’t already have them all memorized.

Pulling back slightly, your thumb stroked over his jaw. “You’re gonna be such a good dad.”

“You really think so?” He asked, a little nervousness seeping into his tone.

“I know so, baby. You’re gonna be amazing.”

He pulled you down into another ravenous kiss, mumbling against your lips. “I love you.”

On Christmas that year, he got down on one knee and gave you a ring.

The next year, you bit your nail as you watched Eddie unwrap his final Christmas gift from you– the first of several positive pregnancy tests.

<3

————————————————————————-

————————————————————————-

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson christmas #christmas fic #eddie munson x f! reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson × reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fluff

[raainberry]

Tis’ The Season

« Silly Series - 6 »

Momo x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - a chaotically sweet moment with gf momo as the holidays typically allow

wordcount - 823

T/W - suggestive (very (not) subtle)

A/N - some domestic holiday fluff with momo bc i can and why not🤭

“Do you want to put the star on top?” You asked, handing the ornament to your girlfriend.

Her eyes lit up, and you couldn’t help but smile at her excitment from how infectious it was. You could never explain why or how, but her happiness happened to be yours from the moment you met.

If you cared, you’d try to at least understand where that came from, but it seemed much less enjoyable than just embracing it.

So that’s what you’ve done for the past two years. Trying to make Momo as happy as she made you, embracing her love and what came with it, never missing an opportunity to share yours with her.

Momo loved to feel it through your touch. Your hand in hers, your fingertips on her skin, your lips on hers… She loved it all. But she didn’t expect her arms around you in that precious moment, much less the way you lifted her off the ground.

“What are you doing? There’s a chair right there.” She giggled, pointing at the wooden chair you’d both been using to decorate the tree.

“I’ve been wishing to be this chair for a while, let me have this one.” You whined and she rolled her eyes, hoping it would distract you from the blush creeping on her cheeks.

“I can’t even reach it.” She said, resting the ornament on your shoulder before suddenly getting sent a little higher.

“How about now?” You smiled as the sound of her laughter filled the small living room of your apartment.

“Yes, perfect!” She grinned, putting the golden star where it belonged.

Once she made sure it was secure, she looked down at you with that eye-smile of hers along with the same bright grin you fell for. The combo still made you weak in the knees, but you fought through this one to keep the both of you safe. The cookies you’d baked earlier were already enough of a disaster, you didn’t need a trip to the E.R.

For some reason, the recent memory of her disapproving face after volunteering to test-taste warmed your heart. Sure, it was bad and a waste of ingredients, but at least you tried and it made something more to laugh about until the next holidays.

You couldn’t wait until then already, feeling an absurd amount of love for the woman in your arms. It was overwhelming, pulling at your lips as you fought to keep it under control. You felt crazy at times, how was it possible to love someone so much?

You never bothered to find the answer to that, and you certainly weren’t going to start now. Instead, you decided to release this tension within yourself by laying an innocent kiss on the exposed skin of her stomach.

The butterflies in Momo’s chest were a habit at this point, but the tickling sensation was a surprise. She couldn’t help but bring her hand to where you’d kissed her, folding into it and causing herself to slip out of your grip.

You managed to land her on her feet as her survival instincts pushed her to wrap her arms around your neck. Her laugh was ever so chaotic, yet so sweet to your ears—it sent you into such a blissful daze that you barely saw her coming for your lips.

She left a couple of kisses on them as a thank you, and you could only kiss her back at the second one.

You could have used a warning, but you didn’t mind. You loved her surprise kisses, the ones you expected the least yet practically screamed how much she loved you in fault of not finding the words to.

Those were your favorite.

Momo knew that thanks to the smile adorning your lips every time she pulled away. She considered it an answer to her wordless confession. An assurance that you loved her just as much, if not a little more.

“Thank you for saving my life.” She giggled, cupping your cheeks as you leaned into her touch. “And for helping me even though I didn’t ask.”

“Any time. Whenever you need a chair just call me.” You joked, earning yourself another eye-roll (although still not the one you’d prefer to see) as she pushed you away.

You nearly tripped over one of her dogs, as the commotion had caught enough of their attention to come and see what it was all about.

You couldn’t tell which one it was because it started chasing you as soon as you unwillingly proved yourself to be a threat.

“Yes, Dobby, attack!” You heard Momo yell, and a quick glance towards her offered you a sight you’d have melted over once more if you weren’t busy fighting for your life.

It all went so fast. One second you were melting over your girlfriend’s love and the other you were trying to escape said girlfriend’s enraged dog.

The sound of her laughter reaching your ears through Boo and Dobby’s barking oddly made you think you could go on running around forever.

Gosh, you were so down bad.

#momo x reader #twice x reader #twice momo #hirai momo #boo dobby💀

[mixu]

Naruto and H1n0t0's wedding chapter confirms SNS

While doing research alongside @ilbenmalpensanteus for a fanfic, the subject of Shippuden's last chapter aka the wedding and some misconceptions you might have heard about (promoted by s*s* no less) were brought up. I went to re-watch the scene and found some interesting things that, perhaps not so surprisingly, support sns case.

I want to do this as extensively as possible, so the analysis will be composed of multiple parts.

(pt.1) The usual delusion of Sakura and s*s* fans

It all started because I was informed some s*s* were saying the note Sasuke's summon delivered was meant to congratulate Sakura for her birthday and not Naruto for the wedding. I was pretty sure that wasn't the case but went to confirm it because I only watched the chapter once and superficially.

I confirmed s*s* claims as preposterous right away, as expected.

The kanji written in the note 「寿」 which is read as 「ことぶき」 or "kotobuki" simply means "congratulations" "best wishes" or "longevity". It is a formal kanji used for formal affairs (weddings, duh!) and definitely not for the birthday of a partner or love interest, in which case it is preferred to use some variant for 「誕生日おめでとう」 or "tanjôbi omedetô".

Also, no, the wedding didn't take place during Sakura´s birthday just because it looks like a "Hanami" event because there isn't a fixed date for such a celebration. The date on which it is celebrated depends on the region where it is celebrated, ranging from March to May in the northernmost parts of Japan.

The summon landed on Sakura's arm because at that moment Naruto was indoors and Sakura only smiled and blushed because she gets off on anything Sasuke related and is creepy.

(pt.2) Sasuke's not so subtle fuck this wedding congratulatory note

I don't know who was involved in this wedding thing but I don't think this wasn't on purpose. I can't believe I have not seen any discussion about this, but well, I joined Tumblr relatively recently, and there must have been some mention around Japanese forums that I most likely won't have the time to look for. (let me know if you have more information)

Anyway, for context, there are many social conventions followed by the Japanese people depending on the circumstances. One of the many that apply to celebrations is 「祝儀袋」 read as 「しゅうぎぶくろ」 or "shûgibukuro" which literally means "envelope for monetary gifts". Now, this could apply to funerals, new year and, of course, weddings, and there are strict rules one must follow to avoid being rude.

The amount of money gifted depends on the closeness of the relationship between the new couple and the wedding guests.

The amount of money must match the envelope. In other words, if you are using an expensive fine envelope, you should gift more money and vice-versa.

Even when you won't attend the wedding you should send a "non-attendance" envelope with a fixed amount of money.

The details and ornaments on the envelope the guests choose reflect upon the wishes they have for the newlyweds.

Here I present some examples:

First of all, you can see the kanji used in all the envelopes is the same Sasuke used for his note. The ornament that looks like an origami figure means good luck and the more complex it looks, the finer is the envelope. The same goes for the complexity and color of the knots. A golden-silver cord is better than the red-white one and the more difficult a knot is to unravel the better, because it means the newlyweds have strong bonds. The knot in the first image is one of the bests because the shape is meant to represent a rising sun and the start of a new stage in the couples lives, also its the most difficult to untie. The second one is considered standard and the third one is for no-attendees. The fourth is not recommended because the knot is easy to untie.

There are many other characteristics, but I think this overview is enough to understand Sasuke's note was a direct pronouncement against the wedding. As Naruto's best friend he should have sent half of his Uchiha inheritance inside an envelope like this one

What did Naruto get?

A "Fuck you" would have been more subtle.

Edit: What Naruto got from other wedding guests

****************************************************************

I'll leave it here for today, but expect the analysis of Kakashi and Iruka's conversation. Iruka and Naruto as well as Naruto and Hinata looking at the Hokage monument.

If you are skeptical about the information I shared, here's my source and there are lots of youtube videos where this is also explained.

#sns #sasunaru #narusasu #sns analysis #anti naruto ending #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #japanese culture #anti sakura haruno

[hopelesswritergall]

Not sure your opinions on Bran Stark, but maybe him falling in love with the reader while they’re assorted into an arranged marriage? He grows jealous and decides he needs to keep you in Winterfell with him, so he does everything he can to make you his despite your oath of marriage to maybe a Lannister?

Or just any Bran Stark x Reader content, I love that man so much 🤭🤭

Yesss darling!! Baby I think I made it GN but if you catched a gender thingy let me know!

Summary: Bran didn’t like Y/N at first, so when their parents announced they were to be betrothed he refused. That hurts. But then Tommen came and he disliked that even more. He would show you that he is better than that bastard.

A/N: I do not follow the original storyline cause yeah no. We don’t do that here on this blog. Also fuck their winters and shit. In this story it’s just all 4 seasons in 1 year. And your house is Greenfield a (non-existing) house which is south of Winterfell and often associated with the Vale and shit.

It’s sort of very long headcanons :)

Tag list: @crownedtargaryen

Let me know if you want to be added babes

It was the summer of Bran’s thirteenth birthday, when they got the news. The Greenfield’s were coming to visit and they were bringing their child Y/N Greenfield. They were often talked about, how they would grow up to become one of the prettiest people alive. Bran couldn't care less. He just wanted to learn archery and not much more.

When the Greenfields arrived his whole family was running around making sure that everything looks perfect. "Robb, can we train this afternoon?" "Bran, we do not have the time for training, we need to prepare. Do something useful and go help father or something.” Stupid Greenfields, now they’ve ruined his weekly training session with Robb, what else are they going to ruin? On his way to his father he ran into his mother Catelyn. “Bran! What are you still doing in these clothes?! Go and put on sometching more formal! Don’t just stand here, GO!” His mother looked very nervous and it almost seemed like this visit would determine their fate as a house.

Deciding not to push the buttons of his mother even more he complied, and asked a servant to bring him some formal clothes. (You didn’t think he would do that himself now did you??). Once it was on his bed he begrudgingly put it on, already feeling as if he doesn’t really like the Greenfields one bit.

He begrudgingly went downstairs to meet with his parents. His parents, Robb, Sansa, Rickon,his adopted brother Jon and hell even Arya were dressed up. They all wore their best clothes for the visit

They all waited for the carriage to enter the gates of Winterfell and they didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes after everything gathered a carriage came into view. It was decorated with beautiful green ornaments and golden leaves on the sides.

Your father, mother and your 2 older brothers left the carriage before you and as last but definitely not least you.

“My lord stark, may I present to you. My eldest : Tobas, my second eldest: Darron. And my youngest : Y/N.” Your father spoke

“It’s a pleasure to meet you guys, really! Come on in! Let the kids get to know each other, they’ll be spending lots of time together in the future so…..” Ned spoke the last part quietly not wanting to reveal anything yet.

You stood there swaying on your feet until you spotted Bran, he looked around your age so you approached him, wanting to seem nice.

“Hi! My name is,” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he walked away. “Y/N.” You were confused as to why he suddenly walked away. You were only trying to be nice.

“Don’t pay him any attention Y/N, my name is Sansa! Come, you can sit next to me at dinner.” She joined your guy’s arms and walked with you to where you would be staying at.

Ned and your father had made plans to unite your houses when you were born. Tobas and Darron were too old to be wedded to either Sansa or god forbid Arya. But you, you were the perfect age and being born only a few months after Bran? It was a miracle.

At the dinner the announcement was made and my god was it an experience

“Ned, thank you so much for hosting this amazing dinner for us. We couldn’t be more honoured and I believe that as a host you should be the one to announce it.”

“Thank you Duncas,” Ned cleared his throat before he said the words that ruined it all for Bran. “The Starks and Greenfields will be united through a marriage. Bran and Y/N are destined to be wedded as soon as Y/N turns eighteen. Until then they will spend much time together. Let’s all celebrate this alliance!”

Bran felt like he was going to puke. He didn’t want to marry anyone and why them?! They weren’t special or anything, so he sulked and pouted the entirety of the dinner.

You on the other hand already had a feeling when your father announced that you would be visiting Winterfell. You knew that it would be good for your family and Winterfell would be an important ally. Besides Bran wasn’t that bad looking. Wink wink

“Do you hear this Y/N?! We’ll be sisters!” It seemed like Sansa was more excited than your future husband. This was off to a great start.

Over the span of the following 5 years, Bran would be 18 and you would turn 18 later that year, you were forced to spend a lot of time together. Sansa had already accepted you as her sister and you really liked her. Bran on the other hand…..

He was a CUNT. Always ignoring you, making snide remarks about your looks or manners. “No Y/N, I don’t know how you do it down south but we don’t do that here in the North.” He would always make you feel insecure, like you didn’t belong there.

Bran wasn’t the best with women and he didn’t despise you contrary what you might believe. He just didn’t really express him self that good. Alright, he was just shit at communicating and thought it would be better to just make you stay away. :)

You practically lived in Winterfell and the Starks would be receiving some royal visitors. The Queen and her son Tommen would come to visit Winterfell. You were very excited because you never met them before and heard great stories about the future king.

“Sansa! Imagine that the prince would like one of us? Then we’d become the next queen! Isn’t that just a dream?” That is what Bran overheard when he was walking around the place.

“Do you think he could end your betrothal to my brother? If he does, promise me you will remember me!” “Sansa, I will never ever forget you!”

Next day at dinner he decided to do a teeny tiny bit of questioning, did you really like the prince? Were you so desperate to get away from him?

“So Y/N, excited for the visit of the prince?” He gave you a sweet angelic look

“Yeah! I’ve heard great stories about him. Did you hear that he is great at archery and sword fighting?! Like that’s so cool!”

Bran scoffed a bit and replied snarkier than he intended “Pff well I am good with bow and arrow as well you know?”

The day of the visit

You were practically running around, trying to look your absolute best for the prince. You were very intrigued by all the stories you heard the people tell.

“Children, please come to the courtyard, they are arriving!” You could hear Ned’s voice coming from downstairs. With a last glance at the mirror, and deciding you looked amazing as usual you went downstairs.

You took your spot next to your husband to be, who looked extremely happy to see you as he always does haha not. “Good morning Bran! Excited for the visit?” You almost shined with excitement. “Cant wait.” Bran first wanted to cancel the betrothal by making you and the prince a thing. But now as he heard you speak about the prince already without ever seeing him, and now seeing you radiating with energy he started to doubt his intentions.

Could it be possible that he didn’t want to lose you?

Well no time to think about it, Tommen is leaving the carriage and approaching him and you.

“Hello Bran, very nice to see you again. But who is this beautiful person next to you? Excuse me, but I never had the pleasure to mee you I think.” Tommen extended his hand which you gladly accepted, and he planted a gentle kiss on top of your hand.

“Your grace, my name is Y/N of the house Greenfield.” You were delighted that the prince even spoke to you.

“Ah the youngest of the Greenfields, I’ve heard stories about how you are considered one of the prettiest people alive. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Alright Bran was getting more annoyed by the second now, so the little devil he is decided to meddle a bit.

“I’m so lucky to have Y/N as my betrothed,” Bran wrapped his hands around you which took you by surprise. “I really have to thank my father for that.”

“Ah so you are the man lucky enough to be the betrothed of the prettiest person? Well consider yourself lucky Bran, I know a lot of people who would think not twice before offering their hand.”

“Yeah….. Very lucky indeed.” With that the Prince left to enter the castle and settle into a room.

“Alright what the fuck was that Bran?” you hissed at him.

“Whaaattttt? Can’t I appreciate my future wife?” He replied as if he had done nothing wrong.

“Well you didn’t do anything of the sorts the past 5 years so it’s a bit suspicious don’t you think?!”

You tried to walk away but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back in. “I meant what I said just now. Thought you should know.”

With that the future lord of Winterfell left you there standing alone in the middle of the courtyard. Very confused and stunned

You never truly disliked Bran but it seemed he did for a while. So where was this coming from?

“Y/N can you help me with my hair?” That was Sansa shouting at you from the window.

“I’m coming!”

The dinner disaster

What is it with people and placing people where they do not want to be?

On the head of the table was Ned, on his left side were Cathelyn, Arya, Sansa and Robb. On the other head was Cersei. To Ned’s right were Bran, you and then Tommen.

You were placed directly between them, how awkward.

“So Y/N, what do you enjoy doing these days here in Winterfell? I can imagine that it is very different than in the Vale.” The queen spoke to you. Oh my god she acknowledged you.

“Well you highness, even though it is indeed very different from the Vale I don’t think it are bad differences. The main one I had to adapt to is that it’s a bit colder. But as to what I enjoy doing, I really like to ride my horse in the woods. I enjoy reading in our library and recently I have followed some lessons alongside Sansa and Arya in stitching. Although I don’t know if that’s my thing or if it’s too “girly” for me.”

Next to speak was Tommen. “Reading and horseback riding? So many talents in one person, I imagine that the Gods decided to not divide it evenly and that someone missed out.” He said while clearly looking at Bran with the last statement.

Bran deciding to try to ignore Tommen as much as possible spoke to you in such a kind voice you thought he was a different person. “Y/N, what did you read as last again? I remember being very intrigued by it and I would like to read it as well.”

“Oh well, it was something called The history of the Throne. It was very interesting, the stories went back to almost the beginning of the Targaryen dynasty. It also described the dance of the dragons and all that drama in great detail!” You replied back sweetly, but speaking to Bran caused you to turn your back to Tommen which he didn’t really appreciate so he spoke again.

“Aha speaking about the dance of the dragons, do you like them? And who do you think was the rightful heir to the throne?”

So you turned around again now facing Tommen. “Do I like dragons? Who in their right mind doesn’t? The rightful heir, that a very difficult question. I fully understand Rhaenyra, buuuuutt I also understand where Alicent came from. She just thought that Viserys meant their son Aegon and from that point it all became very very confusing.” Tommen was smiling at the attention, Bran however was not.

Before he had the chance to speak the Queen spoke up and you were relieved to hear someone else speak for a while. You weren’t really listening so you were surprised when you heard your name being called by her. “Y/N, darling did you hear me?” “Sorry my Queen I was a bit distracted, could you repeat it for me please?” “I asked you if you like it here in Winterfell and if you look forward to your marriage with Bran?”

Bran grew anxious, if you said no he would be fucked and lose the person he loved.The queen would probably suggest you coming along with her and then marry the prince. Wait hold on did he just think that he loves you? Nono that must be a mistake right? I don’t love Y/N, or do I?

You noticed Bran spacing out and gently placed your hand on top of his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. This seemed to bring him back and he looked a bit surprised at you.

“My queen I can assure you that I’m really enjoying Winterfell and I coudnt be more excited for the wedding.” This seemed to shock almost everyone at the table, including Ned and Catelyn. Who tried on numerous occasions to change their sons mind.

“That’s good to hear. Tommen my dear, is everything okay? You look a bit pale.” All of your eyes went over to Tommen who indeed looked paler than normal, probably hoping you weren’t happy. You knew how Tommen must feel and pitied him a bit, so you leaned in close to him and whispered “I know a woman who would be lucky to meet you my prince, she is prettier than I am. Her name is Margaery Tyrell.”

Tommen instantly felt a lot better and couldn’t wait to leave Winterfell all of a sudden.

You and Bran? You guys got married the week after you turned 18, he is your little grumpy man.

#bran stark #bran stark x reader #game of thrones #x reader #game of thrones headcanons #game of thrones headcanon #brandon stark #starks of winterfell #house stark #game of thrones x reader #got imagines #game of thrones imagines

[bijoumikhawal]

Coptic Women's Headpieces: padded headbands and Palmyran strips

Neither of these have much (...in the first case, any) information out there to make their own post about, but they're both interesting.

The first are these padded headpieces. In the past I'd only seen the one made of leather with flowers on it in the V&A, which notes its possible usage. However it was only until recently when I began poking around on the French internet when I found more, and better yet, an undeniable depiction of a woman wearing the headpiece. Before this I'd seen some depictions that may be the headpiece being worn, but usually seem much flatter than these were made to be or like they're a more standard gold diadem.

In addition to this, there are a few depictions of Coptic figures wearing these flower bud/petal crowns (more popular in the earlier part of Roman Egyptian art history), which makes me wonder if these were ever used as a base for those.

It's also possible this was out under the turbans worn by women in Coptic art. An example of a bust from Byzantine exists of a woman wearing a turban from Constantinople, and when viewed from the side it can be seen that the volume at the front of her headdress terminates in points near the nape of her neck/her ears. However, this bust also lacks the volume one would expect from the examples if a roll like the extant examples was used.

The other piece is one I noticed before, and isn't specific to Egypt, or originated from there. It seems to have come from Palmyra, and is fairly common in the funeral busts we have from there.

These are small plaques of metal and gems, typically with a few small beads dangling over the forehead. Currently it's supposed that they were attached to a woman's bun in some way.

Here's a Roman-era Greek bust and a Roman- era Tunisian example.

Heres some Roman-Egyptian portraits with similar head jewelry. So far, I haven't found a definitive later Coptic depiction of one being worn, but I don't think that means they stopped being worn before Christianization. It's possibly just a matter of what art has survived and what I've personally seen. Generally, Coptic jewelry is similar to the jewelry from earlier Roman-Egyptian examples, with some more unique examples and examples that were inspired by later trends in the Byzantine Empire.

One of the possible Coptic examples is from the tomb of Theodosea (full disclosure: Theodosea herself was Greek Christian living Egypt, not a Copt in the sense we mean it now, but she's dressed in a way generally common in Egypt at the time. I use "possible Coptic example" here to indicate the contemporary cultural majority of Egypt, which is distinct from the pre-Christian cultural identity of native Egyptians). Theodosea here is identified by Engy Hanna as wearing some type of golden hairnet, with a green pendant with 3 hanging pearls and two strings of hanging beads attached. Because of her palla, it's impossible to tell if she has only one medallion attached to her hairnet or if this is a strip. The overall composition of elements (a cover over the hair, the two strands, center ornament, and a shawl over top the head) are very similar to Palmyran headdresses, though she doesn't wear a turban or the patterned fillet they do.

Recently, I found a bust on an auction site labeled "Roman, probably made in Egypt" from the 1st century, with this ornament but made of a more pliable material- probably fabric. And another on the same site, maybe Egyptian (the information mentions both the terms Gandhara and Greco-Egyptian), with the more typical jeweled look, 2nd-3rd century (which is more into the swing of Christianization in Egypt).

The last aside is another jewelry piece resembling that of Palmyra, though less so: a kind of circlet that appears to be made of chain with a center pendant. The star pendant worn by the second woman also notably resembles the pin holding the strip to the Greek girl's updo. The hanging strands of Theodosea are more blatant, but it's possible these were elaboration on the fashion. This style of jeweled forehead circlet, unlike the headband and strip (I have seen art of Syrian and Egyptian women with a strip, as well as Nubian art of women with a fillet/circlet and a center strip. The latter seems to be a more widely used item than the former two, which I have only seen one depiction each of so far), has remained consistently popular in West Asia and North Africa. Additionally the padded band worn by one of the Palmyran women featured here could be a related item to the padded headband; to know one would have to see the back of her head or find an artifact connecting the two. Even if a relationship can be proven between the Byzantine, Palmyran, and Coptic padded fillets, there is no clear indication of where it originated.

*I am a Copt, and if you are not, do not tag this post talking about "recreations". I find that offensive given the actions taken by Albert Gayet in regard to the clothes he took from graves. It is a simple boundary and you will not "enlighten" me to see how it's fine.*

Sources/Further reading:

https://art.rmngp.fr/fr/library/artworks/femme-assise_terre-cuite_polychromie-technique

https://art.rmngp.fr/fr/library/artworks/bourrelet-de-coiffure-postiches_laine-textile

https://art.rmngp.fr/fr/library/artworks/bourrelet-de-manteau_laine-textile

https://art.rmngp.fr/fr/library/artworks/bourrelet-de-mantelet_laine-textile_textile-matiere_lin-fibre | sources for 3 of the padded fillets and the figurine

https://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O353014/pair-of-fillets-unknown/

https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/468716 | the marble bust

https://www.persee.fr/doc/bch_0007-4217_1969_num_93_2_4903 | in German, has photos of carvings with the hair ornament

https://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2016/ancient-marbles-classical-sculpture-art-l16260/lot.59.html | carving of the short haired child

https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2022/ancient-sculpture-and-works-of-art/a-roman-marble-portrait-head-of-a-girl-circa-2nd | carving of a girl with a jeweled strip, may be Egypt as the notes say an image of it was published in a work on Greco-Egyptian art and the girl has an "Isis lock" hairstyle

https://www.jstor.org/stable/4241695 | overview of Palmyran jewelry

https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/G_1903-0717-3 | Tunisian example of strip

https://www.livius.org/pictures/greece/thessaloniki/thessaloniki-museum-pieces/thessaloniki-portrait-of-a-girl/

https://womenofegyptmag.com/2020/02/11/what-coptic-artefacts-tell-us-about-women-in-ancient-egypt-part-one/

#Coptic art #Coptic culture #Late Antiquity #Late Antique Egypt #Masr #Copt #Actually Egyptian tag #Cipher talk

[shanastoryteller]

(for @somebitofeverything who’s ask I accidentally deleted)

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

As far as Sizhui knows, his father has never been interested in anyone which is why it’s so strange that he’s going off to Lanling to get married. 

He’s gotten plenty of warnings from everyone about how terrible his father’s bride is going to be. She’s a Jin, so likely hopelessly spoiled and arrogant, and she was chosen for this alliance last minute so she’s going to be resentful and mean but Sizhui shouldn’t let her push him around and mistreat him. 

Jingyi had been very emphatic about that last one, but Sizhui doesn’t know if he can bring himself to disrespect his father’s wife even if she is awful. 

They’re all assembled out front, the golden palanquin the Jin had sent to bring the newlywed’s back home carried up the many steps to Cloud Recesses by a procession headed by his uncle. 

It stops in front of all the gathered clansmen, there to greet the new Madame Lan. His father steps out first, hesitates a moment, then offers his hand to help his wife out of the palanquin. 

Jin Xuanyu bypasses it entirely, jumping out of a carriage like a child. She raises her arms above her head and stretches. “Flying would have been faster,” she complains, “and less work for the disciples.” 

She’s pretty. She has on a cream robe with golden embroidery that’s reminds him of his father’s cloths, only warmer. Her hair is help up with a single golden hairstick, which a lot less than Jin women usually wear. 

“It is tradition,” his father responds, but Sizhui can tell he agrees with her. He locks eyes with him and smiles, gesturing him forward with a shift of his head. Sizhui nervously steps forward and goes into a deep bow. He’d really been hoping that his father would introduce Grand Uncle first. “Xuanyu, this is my son.” 

Sizhui swallows, trying to hold himself perfectly still, hoping his neat robes and hair and everything he’d anxiously done while getting ready this morning makes him look like a step son she could grow to tolerate. 

“Sizhui!” she says, grabbing onto his elbows and pulling him upright. He blinks, taken aback, but her eyes are crinkled in the corner with her grin. “Your father has told me nothing about you, but your uncle has! Look at what a handsome boy you are!” 

She reaches out resettle his robes on his shoulders, a maternal gesture that immediately makes his throat close up. 

“Oh, I should have brought you something, but everything happened so quickly - next time I’m in the city I’ll get you a proper gift, okay? You’ll have to tell me what you like.” He wants to reassure her that he doesn’t need a gift, but before he can she reaches up and pulls the golden hairstick from her hair, causing it to tumble inelegantly down her shoulders. “Here, the rule against ostentatious displays is silly anyway.” Grand Uncle makes some sort of choking noise, but he can’t focus on that as Jin Xuanyu slides the hair stick into his own hair, just behind his silver hair ornament so it peaks over the top. 

He loves her. 

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #somebitofeverything #untamed

[kydrogendragon]

Dec 23 - Twinkling Lights

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

The greenhouse is warm inside. It makes sense, given that the plants inside of here require more heat and humidity than the current climate outside can provide. Hob had suggested visiting the greenhouse lights before they closed down for the season. It was after Christmas and the new year was just days away. Because of that, it was significantly less busy and crowded than it would have been if they had gone the week before.

“First impressions - what do you think?” Hob asks to his left, staring at him with a hesitant expression. Morpheus looked around, his eyes trailing across the various exotic plants and greenery, all wrapped and spun with various lights and ornaments. The lights twinkled, the rainbow of colors softly glowing against the green and purple leaves. It truly was a breath-taking sight. Morpheus couldn’t help but be reminded by dreams he had wove for children back when he was Dream.

He gives Hob’s hand a gentle squeeze and turns to look into his warm brown eyes. “It looks magnificent.” Hob smiles, the warmth of the sun shining over Morpheus’s face at it’s sight.

“Good. I thought you might enjoy this.” He pulls them forward along the path. “C’mon. They decorated one of their large trees further in. It’s supposed to be the highlight of the tour.”

“Should we not save such a treat for the end?” Morpheus rebuts with a sly smile.

“Touche.” Hob looks around their immediate sphere and nods to the first grouping of plants. “Well then, my dear. Shall we take the scenic route?”

“Gladly.”

They weave their way through the expansive greenhouse. In truth, it was closer to a zoo, but just for foliage. Or an expansive indoor garden. There were multiple plaques littered across the pre-planned paths, all describing the different types of plants that could be found in the small section in front of it. Morpheus enjoyed reading the details on each one. From the scientific names to the preferred climate to the uses of each plant, he read each one, taking their teachings to heart.

Hob pointed out some that he’d seen on his various journeys to foreign lands in his long life. He promised Morpheus that he’d show him the world one day. And when humanity figured out how to make space travel a constant, he’d take him out among the stars as well.

Morpheus, with his long life as an Endless, has, in theory, seen all of this before. But the human mind was only meant to hold so many memories in it at one time, so many of the details have been lost. But the idea of experiencing the wonders of the Waking world again, with Hob at his side, no less, was a thrilling one. It fills his heart with a joy he is beginning to learn comes whenever he is with Hob. It is a feeling he would not trade for anything.

They continue their journey through different times and regions, different climates and soils, until they finally weave their way to the center of the greenhouse. This dome is the largest of all the others and for good reason. Various trees, taller than those that fit within the other modules they had visited before, are nestled in groups that hug close to the dirt walkways. Each tree is strung with lights, the soft warm glow giving the entire place a sense of otherworldly grace. The moment they cross the threshold, Morpheus gasps at the beauty.

There is a photographer station in front of the large tree in the center. A small line extends out of people waiting for their turn. A vine covered arch, also strung with lights, rests in the background. Looking up at Hob, Morpheus asks, “Could we take a photo together?”

Hob looks down at him, the glimmering lights dancing in his eyes and the soft golden glow highlighting the curves of his face with such beauty that Morpheus can feel himself falling in love with his man all over again. Hob cups his cheek and smiles. “Of course we can, duck.”

And so the pair make their way into the line. There are only a few parties ahead of them, mostly other couples, but there are a few families present as well. Hob releases Morpheus’s hand so he can wrap it around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. Morpheus relaxes into the familiar position.

“Successful date then?” Hob mummers into his inky black hair.

They move forward as the next group is called forward. “Yes. Very successful, I would say.”

The photograph gets hung on the fridge right beside the Polaroids Hob took of Morpheus on Christmas morning, the terrible printed out selfie from their skiing adventure and their night out at the opera from much earlier on. I’m going to need to buy a new photo book, he thinks to himself as he stands back from the fridge. New book for his new life with his best friend, his boyfriend, his old Stranger. He turns around to gaze lovingly at the sight of his boyfriend curled up on their couch, a plethora of blankets piled on top of his form as he pecks away at the keys on his laptop.

“Hey!” He calls out. Morpheus’s head lifts, not unlike a meerkat hearing an unexpected noise. “I love you.”

Morpheus huffs, but can’t hide the smile nor the blush on his cheeks. “I love you as well.”

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #december writing list #kydrogen's december drabbles 2023

[paganimagevault]

The Issyk kurgan of the 'Golden Man' 6th-3rd C. BCE

"The Issyk kurgan, in south-eastern Kazakhstan, less than 20 km east from the Talgar alluvial fan, near Issyk, is a burial mound discovered in 1969. It has a height of six meters and a circumference of sixty meters. It is dated to the 4th or 3rd century BC. A notable item is a silver cup bearing an inscription. The finds are on display in Nur-Sultan. It is associated with the Saka peoples.

The burial complex located on the left bank of the Issyk Mountain River, 50 kilometers to the East to the Almaty city. The unique archaeological complex found by a small group of Soviet scientists led by archaeologist Kemal Akishevich Akishev in 1969. The burial ground consists of 45 large Royal mounds with a diameter of 30 to 90 and a height of 4 to 15 meters. The Issyk barrow is located in the Western half of the burial ground. Its diameter is 60 meters and its height is 6 meters.

Situated in eastern Scythia just north of Sogdiana, the kurgan contained a skeleton, warrior's equipment, and assorted funerary goods, including 4,000 gold ornaments. Although the sex of the skeleton is uncertain, it may have been an 18-year-old Saka (Scythian) prince or princess.

The richness of the burial items led the skeleton to be dubbed the "golden man" or "golden princess", with the "golden man" subsequently being adopted as one of the symbols of modern Kazakhstan. A likeness crowns the Independence Monument on the central square of Almaty. Its depiction may also be found on the Presidential Standard of Nursultan Nazarbayev.

There were two burials in the grave complex: the Central one and the Southern one (to one side). Unfortunately the Central burial site had been robbed but the side grave was undisturbed. The burial chamber in the side grave was constructed from spruce logs. The tomb and its contents remained intact and buried. The skeletal remains were found in the Northern half of the chamber. More than 4,000 gold items were found in the chamber, as well as iron sword and dagger, a bronze mirror, vessels made of clay, metal and wood, shoes, headdresses, gold rings, statuettes, bronze and gold weapons, and an inscribed silver bowl dating from the 6th to 5th century BCE. Many clothing ornaments made of gold, a headdress and shoes were found on and under the remains. Next to the remains were an arrow with a gold tip, a whip (the handle of which was wrapped with a wide ribbon of gold in a spiral pattern) and a bag containing a bronze mirror and red paint. Scientific research, particular that of the anthropologist O. I. Ismagulov, shows that the remains belong to a member of the Saka peoples of Semirecheye, who have a European appearance with an admixture of Mongoloid features. The age of the body at death is estimated at 16–18 years, and its sex is indeterminate. The form of clothing and method of burial suggest that "The Golden Man" was a descendant of a prominent Saks tribe leader, or a member of the Royal family.

A text was found on a silver bowl in Issyk kurgan, dated approximately VI BC. The context of the burial gifts indicates that it may belong to Saka tribes.

The Issyk inscription is not yet certainly deciphered, and is probably in a Scythian dialect, constituting one of very few autochthonous epigraphic traces of that language. János Harmatta, using the Kharoṣṭhī script, identified the language as a Khotanese Saka dialect spoken by the Kushans.

The Wikipedia page has a possible (partial?) deciphering of the Issyk inscription as: "The vessel should hold wine of grapes, added cooked food, so much, to the mortal, then added cooked fresh butter on".

...

Kazakhstan will rebury an iconic ancient warrior in a time capsule this year (2019), in the hope that future generations will be able to establish who he really was, Kazakh TV reports.

Since independence in 1991, he has become a symbol of Kazakhstan's national heritage. His armour takes pride of place in the national museum in Astana, and tours the world as a calling card of Kazakh culture.

The bones were only rediscovered recently at a forensic institute, stored in a cardboard box with a scribbled note reading "The Golden Man, May He Rest in Peace".

"We know his age and social status, while DNA tests could provide us with exhaustive data," researcher Dosym Zikiriya told Kazakh TV.

But Yermek Zhasybayev of the Issyk Museum held out little hope of this. "The bones are in a bad state. They have been kept in a cardboard box for 50 years and been exposed to all sorts of bacteria and viruses, including modern ones. It is now impossible to get a full DNA transcription - if only we had the skull, or just one tooth," he told the TV channel.

Scientists say their only hope is to seal the remains in a special time capsule to prevent any further decomposition, so that technological advances might allow future generations to glean more information about the long-dead warrior.

In recognition of the Golden Man's status, the capsule will be "ceremonially buried in keeping with ancient royal traditions", Kazakh TV said.

Archaeologists are confident that the remains date back to at least the 2nd-3rd century BCE, when south-eastern Kazakhstan was home to the Saka people, who are believed to have been part of the broader Scythian nomadic confederation.

They were gradually displaced by the arrival of the Kipchak Turk ancestors of the Kazakhs, but modern Kazakhstan has taken the Golden Man to its heart."

-taken from wikipedia and bbc

#saka #scythian #scythian gold #archaeology #anthropology #history #ancient history #antiquities #antiquity #artifacts #museums #ancient jewelry #pagan #6th century bce #3rd century bce