#appeared whenever the settlers did

[edwinisms]

we all know the cat king is probably at least esther’s age (probably roughly 165-175 based on oregon/washington’s history), but have we ever stopped to think about monty? like yeah as a human boy he was literally only days old, but as an entity in general? who knows when esther conjured him, but it probably wasn’t any time close to the present. so monty is technically, probably older than at least charles, and quite possibly edwin as well. who knows how many decades this corvid has seen

[frodothefair]

New OC for Expats, let's go!

Ok, this wasn't even that hard! I was in the shower, and came up with a character sketch for my movie-star OC for Expats. What do you think? (Any similarities to real people, living or dead, are purely incidental).

Meet Elliot James. He is a Hollywood actor who got his start as a child star, but came to prominence when he appeared in a fantasy epic loosely based on events in early Medieval Britain, where he played a sweet, heroic squire who saved the day, but ended up giving his life in the process. Afterwards, he became a household name and in demand for everyone's epic or period piece anywhere, and while this was certainly very nice, it was somewhat disappointing to be typecast, so he tried to seek out other roles -- in indie films, horror movies, and genre cinema.

In rapid succession in his early 20's, he played a sick WWI veteran in a period piece with a plot like Flowers of Mordor, a prince in the medieval French history franchise Les Rois Maudits, a young Louis XIV, King Francis in a movie about Mary Queen of Scots (ok, yes, a lot of Frenchness here), and Nikolai Rostov in War and Peace. He also played Pip in Great Expectations, and Link in a cinema franchise of Legend of Zelda, and was one of the brothers in a multi-season Regency-era show similar to Bridgerton. He came to see his period piece and fantasy work as a "Jury duty" of sorts, but did it to please the fans and because he had some difficulty saying no. In the end, however, he put his foot down, and instead of taking the role of Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island, which he was all but being bribed to do, he insisted on auditioning for Blind Pew and Israel Hands.

Why does he get typecast playing young literary and historic characters, you may ask? Well, this is because after age 20, he looks like he essentially stopped aging. He is also short and slightly built, and looks like he stepped off a renaissance painting. He has striking hazel eyes that look like liquid gold, and naturally curly dark blonde hair.

In terms of personal history, he hails from South Dakota, from a long line of ranchers and early settlers to the area of Swedish and German extraction. (Hello, inspiration from Mr. Nisilë's white heritage). His mother raised him and his sister alone, and he has a very loving, down-to-earth and supportive family of origin. However, work as a child actor gave him a lifelong hair-pulling habit, to the point of trichotillomania at times, and he is completely unable to grow a beard of his own as a result.

In his personal life, he gets together with a fan named Marina who is an immigrant from Ukraine and has both Ukranian and Russian heritage. They connect over his upcoming work on War and Peace, and impending trip to Eastern Europe to film it. (This is obviously well before the present day). During his (very ample) free time, Elliot enjoys collecting and listening to vinyl records, attending live concerts, traveling as incognito as he realistically can with his distinctive looks, and watching off-off-Broadway plays (or whatever the LA analog is for this). Ironically, he has never been in a play himself, except for a school play at a very young age.

With his girlfriend and later wife, he is a total sweetheart, and his mental illness helps him understand hers. He is also a complete and utter goofball, slightly disorganized in his household and self care, and unassuming and slightly awkward whenever the cameras are off. The weirder the topic of conversation with him, the better.

His partner, Marina, works as a medical malpractice lawyer who defends doctors, and has a crazy, domineering mother who both loves and dislikes Elliot, and belittles his work behind his back, comparing him to old Soviet actors who she thinks are the true greats. However, she has no qualms about accepting gifts and financial assistance from him. (Guess who this is based on, haha).

Elliot never went to college himself, but he paid for the college education of his sister and Marina's law education. The only thing he asked for in return was that Marina and his sister share the particularly interesting things they learned whenever they could.

What do you think?

@konartiste @emmanuellececchi

[dukeofdogs]

Gernichora

Chest 1: Gernichora, as the legend goes, was once a princess on her way to wed one of King Cedric's sons in Vizima when her retinue ran adrift in Angren, engulfed by the treacherous swamps of Ysgith. The princess, at the last possible moment, caught hold of a nearby tree root before the bog's thick mud could swallow her up. Desperate for help, she screamed and screamed, yet there wasn't a soul for miles. Others arrived at her side, however. The princess was quickly overwhelmed by hundreds of leeches that drained her body down to the last drop of blood. Then, enveloped in the mysterious power of Ysgith's swamps, the princess was reborn – a monster.

Chest 2: Gernichora was, in fact, a post-Conjunction monster whose name derives from the Elder Speech. The elves called her Gvaern Ichaer – the Bloody Mistress. The Aen Seidhe, though incapable of defeating Gernichora, did their best to limit her power. When the last elves left Angren, their warnings fell on deaf ears. It wasn't long before the effects of local ignorance and negligance were felt...

Chest 3: Many rulers have attempted to harness the power of Ysgith: first the Temerians, followed by the Nilfgaardians. Drawn by its potential, they sent vast settler caravans – heavily guarded, of course – into the tepid swamps. But the end result was always the same: affliction, insanity, and the stench of mass graves to whet the appetite of nearby ghouls. Ysgith largely remains uninhabited, and perhaps that's for the best.

Scroll 1: Angren is one of the most treacherous regions of the Continent... And Ysgith is the most dangerous locale within Angren. It is there one can find the lair of the horrifying monstrosity known to locals as Gernichora.

Scroll 2: According to some, Gernichora appears as a tall woman, covered head to toe in blood-gorged leeches. Others claim she resembles a siren, though with the abdomen of a leech in place of a fish tail. The debate is likely to rage on, however, as no one who's had the pleasure to examine the beast firsthand has ever returned alive.

Scroll 3: Nevertheless, the inhabitant of Angren's marshes are well-acquainted with her most iconic trait: the fruits of Ysgith. From afar they appear to be thirst-quenching apples – so plump, red, and juicy that the branches bend under their weight... Yet whenever a wayward traveler—delirious with hunger—reaches for one, he grabs naught but an enormous leech, engorged on blood near to the point of bursting.

Scroll 4: Gernichora's not wholly unlike a vampire, though rather than feast on the blood of others, she feeds them with her own. She latches parasites to her body, then dangles them from trees. Then any beast or monster which tastes of her fruits shall become completely subservient to her will...

[whitepolaris]

Giant Indians and Baffling Burials

The Europeans who settled what is now the United States were always loath to believe that the native population had ever been anything but what it appeared upon the settlers' arrival. So whenever skeletons were unearthed measuring a bit taller than the contemporary indigenous people, a hullabaloo was raised over the discovery of "giant Indians" from what were presumed to be members of ancient civilizations unrelated to contemporary inhabitants. It's true that some of the remains did appear to have physical characteristic that differed from those of the native people of the area, raising legitimate concerns about who these people were and where they had come from.

According to one legend, a Native American skeleton seven feet tall was found buried in a large mound in Theresa. And in March 1911, a discovery on the shores of Delavan Lake in Walworth County made various newspapers, including the New York Times. Two brothers, Ernest and Chester Phillips, had purchased the lakefront property known as Lake Lawn and were curious about the great number of mounds located on their farm. They found conical mounds, which often contained burials, and various effigy mounds, constructed in the shape of strange animals and abstract formations.

The brothers toted shovels out to one of the mounds one day and dug a trench seven feet deep. Inside the mound, three feet below the ground's surface, they found a stone pit measuring seven by nine feet. The pit was filled with fourteen skeletons, which the astonished brothers ascribed to a "powerful pre-historic race." The Delavan Republican said, "The skeletons appear to be those of warriors of powerful frame and immense size when compared with people of this day and age."

The newspapers described one skull as possessing a very large cranium. The skeletons' breastbone were said to be much more prominent than those in ordinary skeletons, and the skulls were "flat-headed," suggesting these people may have belonged to one of the tribe that shaped the skulls of their infants by binding them to cradleboards.

The grave was met with meticulously constructed of cobblestones surrounded with gravel. At the base of the burial chamber, layers of white sand and blue clay, "sacred soils," has been added. The bodies all faced south-toward the lake-and had been covered with a foot-high mixture of clay and dirt baked hard by a fire; the process was repeated several times to build the grave to mound height.

No artifacts were buried with the skeletons, but the Phillips brothers decided to take the bones as souvenirs. They coated them with shellac for preservation, then trundled them off to their house in the city of Delavan, according to historians Gordon Yadon. The bones would not prove to be good-luck charms. Chester later committed suicide, and Ernest lived alone in the house until he died. When the contents of the place were sold at auction, the ancient skeletons were nowhere to be found.

For the record, at least one Ojibwa (Chippewa) man, by the name of Ekiega, stood six feet six. So the tall skeletons may have a logical explanation after all.

The Lake Lawn farm is now a resort and gold course, located just west of Delavan on highway 50. All together, there were over one hundred mounds on the property, but less than a fourth remain. A turtle mound still survives, minus part of its tail, along with oval, linear, and other effigy mounds, and the flagpole at the main driveway once stood in the center of a conical mound. Other burials were found in excavations conducted in 1955 by a Chicago archaeological society, and some of the unearthed artifacts are on display in the resort's restaurant.

The restaurant is constructed directly over what used to be a very large mound, and many of its past and current workers whisper that it is haunted. One nighttime phenomenon mentioned by many is the sound of voices speaking in another language coming from the direction of the lakeshore. The noises have been loud enough to set off sensors, one staff told us, but when the security people check, nothing is ever found. Perhaps they are hearing the ghostly voices of those sturdy ancient warriors asking the long-gone Chester and Ernest to please bring back their bones.

Odd Skeleton Unearthed

"Cambridge, Wisconsin. The eleventh skeleton that has been dug up in this neighborhood in the last five years was discovered by A. E. Morton while he was excavating for his home on Lake Ripley. The skeleton was entire and is supposed to be that of an Indian. An unusual is the double set of teeth in the lower jaw. The skeleton measured six feet three inches from head to base of foot. It will no doubt be presented to the state historical measure at Madison by Mr. Morton." -Eau Claire Leader, Wednesday, November 27, 1907

[crionic-dubs]

A frequently recurring theme when discussing the history of Palestine, is the question of “who was there first?”. The implication being, whoever was there first deserves ownership of the land. I have lost count of how many times I have encountered the argument that “The Jewish people have been in Palestine before the Muslims/Arabs,” or a variation thereof. This has always struck me as an interesting example of how people learn just enough history to support their world view, separating it completely from any historical context or the larger picture of the region.

[...]

The argument is simple to follow: Palestinians today are mostly Arabs. The Arabs came to the Levant with the Muslim conquest of the region. Therefore, Arabs -and as an extension Palestinians- have only been in Palestine and the Levant since the seventh century AD.

[...]

The second problem with this is that there is a misunderstanding of the process that is the Arabization of the Middle East and North Africa. Once again, we must view the Islamization of newly conquered lands and their Arabization as two distinct phenomena. The Islamization process began instantly, albeit slowly. Persia, for example took over 2 centuries to become a majority Muslim province. The Levant, much longer. The Arabization of conquered provinces though, began later than their Islamization. The beginning of this process can be traced back to the Marwanid dynasty of the Ummayad Caliphate. Until that point, each province was ruled mostly with its own language, laws and currency. The process of the Arabization of the state united all these under Arabic speaking officials, and made it law that the language of state and of commerce would become Arabic. Thus, it became advantageous to assimilate into this identity, as many government positions and trade deals were offered only to Muslim Arabs.

So although the vast majority of the population of these lands were not ethnically Arab, they came to identify as such over a millennium. Arab stopped being a purely ethnic identity, and morphed into a mainly cultural and linguistic one. In contrast to European colonialism of the new world, where the native population was mostly eradicated to make place for the invaders, the process in MENA is one of the conquered peoples mixing with and coming to identify as their conquerors without being physically removed, if not as Arabs, then as Muslims. Following from this, the Palestinian Arabs of today did not suddenly appear from the Arabian Peninsula in the 7th century to settle in Palestine, but are the same indigenous peoples living there who changed how they identified over time. This includes the descendants of every group that has ever called Palestine their home.

[...]

We must separate the political nationalist identity of people from their personhood as human beings, as nationalism is a relatively modern concept, especially in the Middle East. Naturally, no region is a closed container. Trade, immigration, invasion and intermarriage all played a role in creating the current buildup of Palestinian society. There were many additions to the people of the land over the millennia. However, the fact remains that there was never a process where Arab or Muslim conquerors completely replaced the native population living there, only added to them.

[...]

So, what does this all mean for Palestine? Absolutely nothing. Although the argument has many ahistorical assumptions and claims, it is not these which form its greatest weakness. The whole argument is a trap. The basic implication of this line of argumentation is as follows: If the Jewish people were in Palestine before the Arabs, then the land belongs to them. Therefore, the creation of Israel would be justified.

From my experience, whenever this argument is used, the automatic response of Palestinians is to say that their ancestors were there first. These ancestors being the Canaanites. The idea that Palestinians are the descendants of only one particular group in a region with mass migrations and dozens of different empires and peoples is not only ahistorical, but this line of thought indirectly legitimizes the original argument they are fighting against. This is because it implies that the only reason Israel’s creation is unjustified is because their Palestinian ancestors were there first. It implies that the problem with the argument lies in the details, not that the argument as a whole is absolute nonsense and shouldn’t even be entertained.

The ethnic cleansing, massacres and colonialism needed to establish Israel can never be justified, regardless of who was there first. It’s a moot point. Even if we follow the argument that Palestinians have only been there for 1300 years, does this suddenly legitimize the expulsion of hundreds of thousands? Of course not. There is no possible scenario where it is excusable to ethnically cleanse a people and colonize their lands. Human rights apply to people universally, regardless of whether they have lived in an area for a year or ten thousand years.

If we reject the “we were there first” argument, and not treat it as a legitimizing factor for Israel’s creation, then we can focus on the real history, without any ideological agendas. We could trace how our pasts intersected throughout the centuries. After all, there is indeed Jewish history in Palestine. This history forms a part of the Palestinian past and heritage, just like every other group, kingdom or empire that settled there does. We must stop viewing Palestinian and Jewish histories as competing, mutually exclusive entities, because for most of history they have not been.

These positions can be maintained while simultaneously rejecting Zionism and its colonialism. After all, this ideologically driven impulse to imagine our ancestors as some closed, well defined, unchanging homogenous group having exclusive ownership over lands corresponding to modern day borders has nothing to do with the actual history of the area, and everything to do with modern notions of ethnic nationalism and colonialism.

I do think it's interesting how when we're talking about Jewish indigneity, we're completely excluding the fact that Palestinians have always been indigenous to the region and share common ancestry with Jewish people, especially Sephardic Jews. After all, many Christian and Jewish people did convert to either Christianity or Islam, and we have plenty of historical records attesting to the fact that all of these communities have intermingled with each other. In fact, Palestinian Christians are one of the oldest Christian communities, dating back to the first century, whereas the Palestinian Samaritans had a consistent presence in Palestine since 500 B.C.

[everyday-is-brighter-with-you]

In Jerusalem by Tamim Al-Barghouti - Translated by Anas and Amena, based off Houssem Ben Lazreg

In Jerusalem

We passed by the beloved’s house, but were turned away​ by the enemy’s laws and the enemy's wall.​

I told myself, “Maybe, that is a blessing,” for what will you see in Jerusalem when ​you visit it?

You will see all that you cannot endure, when its houses appear by the ​side of the road.​

And not every soul rejoices when it meets its beloved, nor does every separation harm it.​

For if their meetings pleased it before separation,​ That pleasure is not, after their reunion, guaranteed.

Once you set your eyes on Old Jerusalem one time, your eyes will then see it, wherever you set them. ……………………………………………………………………………….

In Jerusalem is a greengrocer from Georgia, annoyed with his wife, thinking of going on vacation ​or of painting his house.​

In Jerusalem is a Torah ​ and an elderly man come from Upper Manhattan to teach Polish boys its commandments.​

In Jerusalem is an Ethiopian policeman closing off a street in the marketplace.​ A machine gun on a settler not yet twenty.​ A hat greeting the Wailing Wall. ​

​And European tourists who do not see Jerusalem at all.​ You see them taking pictures ​of each other ​with a Palestinian woman who sells radishes in public squares ​all day long.​

In Jerusalem the soldiers marched ​with heavy boots ​over the clouds. In Jerusalem we prayed on the asphalt. ​In Jerusalem ​is…​whomsoever is in Jerusalem…but you.​

And History turned to me and smiled: ​ "Did you really think that your eye would overlook them and see other than them? Here they are in front of you; ​The text,​ of which you are the footnote and margin.

O son, did you think ​that a visit would lift​ off of the city’s face ​the thick veil of its reality, so that you may see what you desire?​ In Jerusalem ​is every young man…​but you.​

It is the deer in the distance whom fate decreed stay out of reach,​ you still chase after her ​ever since she said goodbye with a tear​. Go easy on yourself for a moment, ​I see that you have become weak…​ In Jerusalem ​is​…whomsoever is in Jerusalem…​but you.​"

O chronicler of history, wait a minute for the city’s timeline is twofold: One is foreign, serene, with steady steps ​as if sleepwalking​ And there is another, hidden, masked, walking silently, cautious of the first…​

And Jerusalem knows itself. ​Ask the people there everyone will guide you,​ for every thing in the city has a tongue ​eloquent when you ask it.​

In Jerusalem the crescent becomes more curved, like an embryo,​ bending towards its likenesses over the domes, developing with them over the years a relationship,​ as of a father to his sons.​

In Jerusalem are buildings whose stones are quotations​ from the Bible and the Quran.​

In Jerusalem the definition of beauty is ​a blue octagon,​ on top of it, dear friend, lies a golden dome ​that looks to me like ​a convex mirror in which heaven’s face ​is reflected,​ coddled, drawn near, ​ distributed like aid to the ​needy as they are besieged ​ when they appeal to God ​after a Friday sermon. ​ In Jerusalem the sky is amongst us, ​ we protect it and it ​protects us, ​ and we would carry it on​ our shoulders if Time ever ​oppressed its moons.​

In Jerusalem are dark marble columns,​ the veins in the marble resemble smoke. ​ And windows, high on mosques and churches, taking Dawn by hand to show it how engraving in colour is done. ​

Dawn says, “like this,” ​and the windows reply, “no, rather like this.” ​ And whenever this debate lasts long, they compromise. For Dawn is free outside the thresholds, but​ if it ever wishes to enter ​it is bound to the rules of the windows and their Lord.​

In Jerusalem there’s a school built by a Mameluke who came from beyond the river, was sold at a slave market in Isfahan, to a merchant from Baghdad, who traveled to Aleppo, and gave the Mameluke to Aleppo’s Prince, Fearing the blueness in the Mameluke’s left eye, the Prince gave him to a caravan heading for Egypt where soon, he became the vanquisher of the Moguls and the Sovereign Sultan

In Jerusalem is a scent that captures the essence of Babylon and India​ at an herbalist’s shop in Khan El Zeit.​ A scent that I swear has a language ​you will understand if you listen to; And it says to me when they fire tear gas at me “Don’t worry about them.” And it fills the air again as the gas ​fades away and it says to me: “Do you see?”​

In Jerusalem contradictions are in agreement, ​and the wonders people cannot deny;​ they check them out like pieces of cloth, old and new,​ and the miracles there they touch with their hands.

In Jerusalem if you shake hands with an old man or touch a building, you will find engraved on your palm, ​my friend, lines of a poem or two.​

In Jerusalem despite the succession of calamities a breeze of innocence fills the air, a breeze of childhood.​ And you will see doves flying declaring the birth of a state between two bullets.

​In Jerusalem the rows of graves are lined like they are ​the lines of the city’s history, ​ and the book is its soil. ​

Everyone has passed through here for Jerusalem welcomes all who come to it.​ Walk through it, and read its gravestones in the languages of all peoples of the Earth. There are the Africans, Europeans, Kipchaks, Slavs, Bosniaks, Tatars, Turks, the believers, disbelievers, poor, rich, sinners, hermits. In here are all the peoples that have ever walked the face of the Earth.​

Oh chronicler of history! ​What has happened that you ​have excluded us? Have you found that we are the only ones with no place left for us in the city? Re-write and read again for I see that you have erred.​

My eyes close, then look again. The driver of the yellow car heads north, away from the city’s gates, and now Jerusalem is behind us.

My eyes see it in the right-side mirror, as its colors have changed in the sun before sunset, when a smile surprised me, how it sneaked onto my face, I do not know.​

It said to me after all this pondering: ​ “O you weeping behind the city wall, are you a fool? Have you lost your mind? ​ Do not weep O you who have been excluded from the text of the book. ​ Do not weep O Arab, and know surely that​

In Jerusalem ​is whomsoever is in Jerusalem but…In Jerusalem ​I see no one…but you.”​

-

Original source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVYbsjK4nVA

[downtoearthmarkets]

Pie may qualify as one of the most popular cold weather comfort foods, so it’s no coincidence that National Pie Day was celebrated this past Monday, January 23rd, during the depths of the Northeast winter. Pies have been around since ancient Greeks pioneered the pastry shell by combining flour and water and began baking different foods within the resulting dough. Today, pie of many kinds is featured in cultural foodways across the globe and its different iterations can be enjoyed throughout the changing seasons. A visit to the farmers market this winter will reveal more pie than meets the eye -- from sweet to meat-filled and from American classics to pies with an international profile, all prepared using locally and seasonally grown ingredients whenever possible.  All-American Sweet Pies Americans predominantly consider pie to be a dessert food with fruit, nut, custard and cream filled pies being the most commonly enjoyed varieties. You can easily locate the following types of traditionally American pies at the farmers market during the winter months:  Pecan pie: Did you know that pecans are the only nut that is native to the United States? The pecan tree (Carya illinoinensis) is a species of hickory that originated in the southern United States and northern Mexico and grows best in regions watered by the Mississippi River where summers are long, hot and humid. The earliest printed pecan pie recipes first appeared in Texan cookbooks in the 1870s. Pecans are harvested from early September through November making wintertime a prime time to enjoy freshly baked pecan pie! Stop by Noble Pies in our Larchmont or Park Slope farmers markets this winter for their pecan pie made with a rich, thick custardy filling topped with the largest pecans they can locate in Texas.  Apple pie: There’s nothing as American as apple pie, or so the saying goes. This is a rather misleading statement as apple pie originated in England where it was first made with unsweetened apples baked within a crust and was only later introduced to the colonies by European settlers. You can guarantee that the apple pie being sold in our markets is made using local apples, as many New York State grown apples make great candidates for apple pie filling including Granny Smith, Jonagold and Honeycrisp.   Pumpkin pie: “As American as pumpkin pie” would be a more fitting axiom than the one mentioned above, given that the oversized orange squash is native to the Americas and the dish bearing its name has been a centerpiece of Thanksgiving tables since the Pilgrims first arrived on these shores and prepared an improvised version made by hollowing out pumpkins, filling the shells with milk, honey and spices to make a custard, then roasting the gourds whole in hot ashes. You can find pumpkin pie being sold by our baked goods vendors from early fall through the holidays.   Cherry pie: Although cherry season in the northeast is very brief and typically only lasts for a few weeks between late June and mid-July, pitted and preserved cherries make an ideal filling for preparing cherry pie at any time of the year. Meredith’s Bread has a legion of loyal fans who proclaim their cherry pie to be one of the best around, so stop by their booth in our Ossining or Morningside Park farmers markets to pick one up.  Savory Pies with International Flavor Meat pies: Meat-filled savory pies are probably most notable as a staple of traditional British cuisine as a range of offerings can always be found on the menu of any authentic pub. The famous English pork pie was historically consumed by farm laborers as a calorie-dense, energy boosting snack and is served cold or at room temperature. It consists of roughly chopped pork and fat surrounded by a layer of jellied stock encased in a hot water crust pastry. Simple Fine Foods can be found in many of our winter farmers markets and are best known as purveyors of high-quality British pies, including pork pies made with farm-to-table ingredients. Some of our meat vendors also sell savory pies stuffed with their pasture-raised beef, lamb, pork and poultry.  Quiche: Quiche is a type of savory pie hailing from the Alsace-Lorraine region (now called Alsace–Moselle) of France. Made with eggs, cream and cheese baked in a pastry crust, quiche can incorporate all sorts of locally sourced fillings including meats, vegetables and seafood. Be sure to stop by Eggcellent Quiche’s tent at our Larchmont farmer market throughout winter for their range of quiche packed with fresh, locally grown vegetables baked in a rich custard inside their signature flaky, buttery crust. 3X3 KITCHEN has a gluten-free mushroom and gruyère quiche option for those craving quiche sans the gluten. Spanakopita: Spanakopita, also known as spinach pie, is one of the most popular snacks in Greece. It is made from steamed and drained spinach, sautéed onions, feta cheese, eggs and seasoning baked inside a flaky phyllo dough crust. You can find fresh spanakopita made from scratch by Anthi’s Greek Specialties at all our farmers markets that operate during the winter.   Empanadas: Empanadas are often referred to as a type of “hand pie” consisting of meat, vegetables and cheese wrapped like a turnover inside flaky dough. These savory individual snacks are thought to have originated in Galicia, a region in northwest Spain. Warm up with a piping hot, freshly made empanada by Nana’s Home Kitchen at our Larchmont and Ossining markets this winter.

[answrs]

Ing(o)men AU

This is an AU I’ve been super excited about to share! Ingo falls in Hisui by the will of Arceus, shifted into the form of an absol. The clans have no reference for any negative connotations the species may hold to other cultures, only that this strange creature appears and helps them in their times of crisis. He becomes a guardian spirit (look there’s a lot of angel symbolism to unpack in the species especially in relation to Arceus) to the clans, but even still, he’s a large and possibly dangerous pokemon and thus is still generally kept away from the settlements out of longstanding fear, though they do leave offerings for him much like the Nobles.

When the Galaxy Team arrives on Hisui’s shores, the settlers bring superstition around the disaster pokemon with them, and he is driven off from the village and outposts with great prejudice whenever seen. This does cause conflict between Jubilife and the Clans, but the treaties and exchange of goods outweighs their disagreement over the Guardian.

When a child falls from the sky and is taken in by the Galaxy Team, the suspicion and distrust against them is only aggravated when they meet and befriend the cursed absol. He is quite protective over them, especially considering the dangers of the responsibilities said child has been thrust into, both by Arceus and Kamado.

A few other tidbits:

He is about equivalent to a lion in terms of size (or luxray to use a pokemon comparison) and isn’t above using this size to his advantage to bully certain headstrong children (and leader-children) into their cots when need-be.

Ingo did fall to Hisui in full uniform, but his larger size in this new form meant most was shredded Hulk-style. he could only keep his jacket, which suffers plenty of damage through both fighting and just general environmental hazards, especially as he has no thumbs or thread to darn the tears.

The Gear Station emblem is carved into the black stone on his forehead, which is the same bone-like material of his sickle horn.

As he isn’t human he’s obviously not given the role of Sneasler’s Warden, but he is closest as friends with the large poison-type (though he is on an aquaintance-to-friendly basis with all ten nobles to varying extents).

This is in part because while he often wanders all across Hisui, he has based his den in the Highlands so as to have the quickest access to both Diamond and Pearl Clan Settlements when he senses impending danger.

When all is said and done, he is sent with the young champion when they are returned to their proper time. He is content to act as their guardian, but is blessed to be able to return to his true, human form at will. Which is certainly a shock the first time it happens and all he’s got on is his coat... and doesn’t actually remember being human in the first place. :p

He does eventually find his way back to Unova, and returns to the Battle Subway with his brother. Though his memory slowly returns, after several years as an absol he often feels more comfortable in his fur than skin. The sixth sense and heightened other senses does help considerably when inspecting the trains and lines however, and it’s not uncommon for passengers to see a strange white shadow wandering in the station’s off-hours.

yes his helmet-fur is the shape of his signature sideburn. don’t @ me. ;p

[eievuimultimuse]

     HE WATCHES AS the other undoubtedly seethes at the display, his straight face slowly melting away, revealing the KNOWING LOOK underneath. There is a strong, strong temptation to reply with  “ LOVE YOU TOO “  or  “ YOU KNOW YOU LOVE ME. “  However, for the sake of not drawing any more of Hob’s ire than he already has, he instead replies,  “ I know, “  but in that lighthearted sort of way that clearly indicates that he holds no real weight to Hob’s so-called proclamation.

     When they cross by the wooden archway with its sign, Superfly notably pauses to glance at it. Though subtle, there is something that shifts in his demeanour; his eyes light up slightly and his antennae straighten with intrigue. Whatever he’s thinking at the moment, he still appears reserved as he continues to follow the cat mutant. However, even as composed as he is, it does not take much to notice the way in which he keeps pausing to look at things, his wings giving an excited little flutter. And whenever Hob opens up one of the displays, Superfly makes it a point to bend down to look — something which he, surprisingly, rarely does despite his height.

     “ Yeah, that’s right, “ he confirms the other’s query. “ Man, I can’t believe this stuff is still here… “

     While Hob seems not nearly as interested, the fly seems quite enraptured by it, a smile beginning to form on his features. Brushing off the other’s comment about the wolf teeth making a good necklace  ( which, listen, Fly certainly couldn’t deny that, but— ), he instead points at them, and says,  “ Y’know, some o’ those teeth are over a hundred years old ?  Some guys found ‘em and dated ‘em to the early 1900s, around the time when settlers were huntin’ ‘em down and drivin’ ‘em outta New York. See, wolves tended t’ kill all o’ their cattle, so they needed ‘em gone, ‘cause otherwise the colonies would’ve failed. Except, the thing is, it was those idiots’ faults that they were goin’ after the cattle, ‘cause they depleted all the populations of the wolves’ natural prey… “

     He finally stands up straight, that slightly excited smile softening some. “ That’s what Dad told me, last time we were here. He figured it was important t’ teach us these things, y’know ?  ‘Specially where they aren’t talked about so much nowadays…that, and I think he just liked geekin’ out when he got the chance. “ he adds affectionately. “ I remember him stoppin’ himself, ‘cause I was only a little guy back then. Think he figured I wasn’t understanding what he was sayin’, or wouldn’t remember it or whatever. But I certainly remembered, alright. I dunno why, but I did. “

Hob watched as the colossus is rocked like a baby. Superfly turns back around with that stupid look in his eye and he can meet it. His expression drops. Not amused, not at all. There is a rising heat from his stomach up into his lungs and a feeling just as unpleasant to go with it. “I hate you, so much.” He’d call him a show off but it’s nothing that Superfly doesn’t already know. So they head through as normal. Already lighting another cigarette, the flame illuminating their path, the fake sand etched with tracks of all shapes and sizes. “Like there’s gonna be an actual bear in the museum.” Though, with the displays he wouldn’t want to take that chance either.

The path fades from sand and rock to a smoother surface. Pebbles and shells and etchings in the ground lead into the next section. A wooden archway with the sign “cabinet of curiosities” in big loopy letters. With the carvings of birds and bugs making up its support beams. When you get past the archway is where it opens up and come to life. The table in the center had a massive globe suspended on its axis, scrawls on different expeditions around the world, and from its center the displays radiate around it, in perfect radial patterns.

He steps toward the first display he can see, a drawer left open. A glass sheet separated the outside world from what’s inside. Pressed flowers and feathers from a notebook, a wolf tooth necklace and matching jaw bone cleaned and catalogued. A monocle with its string still connected, though a massive crack keeps it from being pristine. He moves to open the drawer above it, and it’s more of the same. A leather pouch flattened along with a scrap of skunk fur, faded feathers lined next to a piece of parchment with tears on the side. A sketch of a bird in flight, another standing in the water.

“…so this is supposed to be others egghead research then?” If the explorer uniform and its compass sitting behind glass is any indication. He goes to try and pry drawer off its hinges- but it’s as stubborn as ever. “I mean it’s cool and all but, isn’t it,” a possum skull catches eye and he’s quick to look away. He pushes it back as he found it, leaning against the cabinet- just, watching Superfly. “I dunno. The wolf teeth would make a sick ass necklace at least.”

[upwheretheroseslive-blog]

An Open Letter to Latinos Concerned about Brownness

At a young age, I was taught to hate my skin color. To avoid wearing purples and pinks because they made my skin tone appear darker. To avoid playing in the sun because I would become tanner. Though I grew up in the United States, I didn’t learn to look at my brown skin in distaste because of gringos; I learned from you, members of my own community. 

Our culture has taught us to associate whiteness with beauty, and to view dark skin as a shameful feature, one that evidences our indigenous roots. Though over 16 million people in Mexico alone are indigenous, seldom did I ever see actors who weren’t white in the Latino media I grew up watching. In the rare cases that I did see someone with darker skin, they were a villain, a maid, a chauffeur, and never the love interest or main character.

Those of you who when asked whether someone is attractive and automatically respond with “si, esta guerito/a”, and disparagingly say “pues esta moreno/a” when the person is dark-skinned, I do not blame you for your aversion to brownness. Latin America has a long history of colonization and racial stratification. Prior to the arrival of European settlers, between 8.4 to 113 million indigenous people inhabited Latin America. Throughout the colonial period, Latin America was involved in the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, and today the Caribbean, Brazil, and Colombia have some of the largest Black populations outside of Africa. To deal with the predominantly non-white population, Spanish and Portuguese colonizers pushed interracial mixing, or “mestizaje”, and created a racial caste system where the closer someone was to European descent, the more political and social power they held.

Latinos’ aversion to brownness is the byproduct of colonial thinking, which has celebrated whiteness above all else. It is for this reason that I do not blame those who told me to stay away from the sun. For most of you, especially other Black and Brown Latinos, you were taught this type of thinking, and I believe that when you tell younger dark-skinned generations to avoid wearing certain colors in order to appear lighter, you are doing this with the intentions of protecting your children and loved ones from a world of hurt. One that also taught you to hate your skin, that your darkness made you inferior, and that to survive living in a society that privileges whiteness, it was better to shy away from your brownness, your indigenous roots, or African descent. 

However, I beg you to consider the role you play in maintaining these vicious cycles of anti-indigenous and anti-black rhetoric each time you tell a child that their skin tone is displeasing. What message do you send younger generations when you tell them to marry someone lighter than them, so they can “mejorar la raza”? Each time you instill in a child to feel disgust at their brownness, or to view other people’s brownness as unappealing, you contribute to the maintenance of colonial thinking which has harmed and continues to harm millions of individuals around the world. For instance, the president of the Anti-Discrimination Council (CONAPRED) in Mexico, an indigenous woman, could not find an apartment to rent in Mexico City due to discrimination from landlords—in one instance, the person who was meant to give her a viewing of an apartment didn’t even get out of their car after seeing her. In the United States, dark-skinned Latinos face higher rates of discrimination compared to white Latinos; and throughout Latin America, Afro-Latinos make up over half of the poorest population in the region. While you are not culpable for the systemic issues that Black and Brown Latinos face both in their countries and abroad, you uphold these anti-brown and anti-black ideals whenever you imply there is something wrong with dark skin. 

Brown and Black Latino children deserve to grow up in a culture that celebrates their diversity. They deserve the ability to feel pride over their dark skin that is representative of their ancestors—ancestors who survived unimaginable horrors under the reign of European settlers. These children’s skin tone is a testament to the survival of multiple generations against all odds, and it is time to allow children to view their brownness with love and celebrate it. 

 You were taught to fear brownness, but you do not need to continue this generational cycle of anti-brownness by teaching other children the same rhetoric. The media does a sufficient job of upholding whiteness, and younger generations deserve a space—even if it is only a single adult in their life—to remind them that their skin color is beautiful. 

 Sincerely, 

a brown Latina. 

[normalpeopleconfuseme]

Do you have any just in general romance headcanons for warden Ingo? He’s always been my favorite and seeing him in PLA broke my heart, I just wanna love him even more

I do indeed.

CW: some hurt/comfort, ingo being a sad boy for a few moments, FLUFF!

With the warden, his lack of memory has always made him feel isolated from others in hitsui.

He is always plagued with broken memories that never seem to finish.

The smiling man in white is his biggest enemy.

He feels like he is meant to mock him, to ridicule him for losing him memory and his life before hitsui and the pearl clan.

He can not find any comfort with the others of the pearl clan or anyone within hitsui

that is until he meets you

When Irida told him about the recent addition to the Galaxy team he had assumed that they were more settler coming to hitsui for a better life.

When she told him that you has felled form the sky he was surprised to say the least!

Even that story caused the normally stoic man to raise and eyebrow with such a story.

He wasn't one to doubt the clan leaders words but he was a bit skeptical about that story.

Even with creatures such as Pokemon, a person surviving from falling from the sky only seemed to belong in a myth.

When he arrived at the small village, the young children were speaking excitingly about the new member of the Galaxy team.

They spoke of how strong you are, how you were able to take down any Pokemon that stood in your way!

He was certain that their imaginations were exaggerating upon your actions but it did warm his heart to see them so excited during these uncertain times.

Though his memories were still blurred, he knew in his heart that he cared deeply for children, he believed that they could tell instantly how a person was and he was happy that you seemed to be a strong person in their eyes.

It was only when he lead you though the caves that he had gotten an understanding of how you were.

you listened to ever word he said during your track, even when his voice wavered you did not interrupt him, even for a moment.

once you two were out of the caves, you had blindsided him with a hug!

The warden had no idea how touched starved he was before you hugged him but once you did he found himself leaning towards your embrace.

"I promise I'll help you however I can." You whispered into his ear with enough force within your voice to show your determination on your promise.

After quelling the frenzied lord, you became glued to ingos' side.

while your memories were gone as well, you had more of a decent grasp of the time you were taken from.

You two would spend hours with one another either reminiscing of the lives you had or the one you currently were living.

After sometime, ingo had began expecting your appearance at least once a day.

Of course, he didn't mind in the slightest.

When he is around you, he felt a little less alone in this strange land.

He finally had someone who could relate to feeling like an outsider even with other people.

Once the warden realized why his heart grew faster whenever you were around, he was pretty much sure of it.

He is a little flustered and sorta in denial of his feelings for you.

But he wasn't the type to lie, not even to himself.

Ingo is the type who does thing close and personal so when he confessed to you, he did it somewhere hidden but beautiful so improve the message.

"My dear... it has come to my attention that I had made an unscheduled stop within our friendship... I don't believe i wish for you to be my passenger anymore... I wish to become a two cart train!"

He wants to date you... He wants to date you!

Ingo face was bright red that could match a magikarp scales, his eyes were tighten in embarrassment at his dorky actions, he felt like he was the least charming thing from what he wanted to be.

But its' his dorky charm that nails you!

When you said yes, he stared at you for a moment with a non moving face.

Before tears start to gather in his eyes as he is overwhelmed with joy!

After that, you were became even more glued to ingos' side.

You always make sure to bring him food and remind him to eat and take breaks from training.

Ingo is fucking domestic, he absolutely adores how you care for him.

Everyday he makes sure to remind you of how much he appreciates your care and love for him.

With either a kiss to the cheek or with words that were filled with honey! You can't get enough of this sweet man.

"My darling, you have given this old engine enough fuel to keep on running this track of life, I always wish to be your home station... Please allow me the honor of being yours for the rest of our lives."

He asked as he got down on one knee, he didn't know why he did it but it just felt right to ask for your hand this way. To give you all of him.

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

companions react to a very very very scary sole not only being a good gal but also incredibly witty?

Eeek!!! Okay, first ask and I’m so excited!!! Thank you so much for being the first asker, this was a good question. 💖💖💖💖

I imagined sole as a tall, very muscular girl with a resting bitch face and a witty mouth. But on the inside she means very well and is the pure example of don’t judge a book by its cover.

Nick Valentine: He blinks in surprise when she busts through the door of the office he was locked in and stares him down, but he doesn’t judge her on appearance alone. After all, she did charge through the vault to rescue him. He smiles in pleasure when she ends up actually being really sweet and kind, going out of her way to help other people in need. Her witty remarks end up going well with his sarcastic ones, making it pleasant to have long conversations. Nick does notice that the usual berating from other citizens dies down whenever sole is around with him.

Piper Wright: Nearly jumps out of her skin when the women approaches her from behind outside of Diamond City. But, Piper doesn’t have much of a choice and shakily asks the brooding women to play along. To her surprise, it all went very smoothly with Sole using her smart mouth to pry information out of the Mayor, leaving the man stumbling over his words and sweating like a pig. Piper made sure to invite Big Blue over for an interview and possibly some tips on how to use such wit to an advantage.

Codsworth: Oh the joy he felt when his mistress came stumbling back home looking the same she did 200 years ago! He knows she might look a little off putting to others but with the way she showed loved an affection to Nate and Shawn is more than proof she is a real softie. Codsworth doesn’t bother telling off people who think otherwise because he is more than certain his mistresses witty mouth will shut them up.

Preston Garvey: He feels lucky it was her to stumble upon their little group in Concord and frighten off the raiders with her looks alone. He tries not to stare too much at her, but ends up looking down from piercing gaze. But the women ends up comforting to group in a kind and loving manner, assuring them that she will help them the best she can. After she scares off the Deathclaw and leads them safely to Sanctuary, Preston wastes no time in asking her to be the new General of the Minuteman. He always nearly falls off his chair in laughter whenever she uses her wits to make a clever joke at an unsuspecting settler or Minuteman.

Curie: At first, she doesnt notice how Sole is built like a boulder due to being locked alone for so long in the vault. But once she gets sight of other people who are much smaller and thin than the women she is now travling with, curiosity sparkles in her but she is too shy to ask any questions. But after a few days of traveling around with this new aquaintance, Curie realizes that Sole, despite her appearance, is actually very sweet and makes really witty jokes that send everyone into fits of laughter. So she musters the courage to ask if she can run tests on her unusual figure. Sole agrees with a warm smile and hug, making Curie grateful to be traveling with someone who cares so much.

Cait: She almost backs away when Sole first stands in front of her buying off her contract with her brooding gaze. Cait can’t help but comment on Soles body, asking what the hell she has been eating to get that big. She is caught off guard when Sole just laughs it off warmly while walking away with Cait in tow. It was enraging when Sole preferred to use her wits over muscles when in a fight, but at least they walked away with their limbs intact and it made for a good bar story. She ends up confiding with her struggles in addiction all to soon, which Sole is more than happy to help with.

Deacon: When he first caught sight of her, he almost retreated back to HQ. The only reason he decided to stick around was because of all the great things she had accomplished. He ends up being impressed on how kind and willing she is to help everyone not matter if they were a synth, ghoul or human. So when Sole stumbles into HQ, Deacon is confident in vouching for her, assuring Dez that this was the best choice that they will make. He grins ear to ear when he hears Sole smart off at Carrington for the first time, telling him it serves him right for being so rude. The only thing about Sole was that she didn’t make a good spy, she was much to noticeable. But Deacon does offer a can of green spray paint telling her she could make a great spy for the Super Mutants.

Danse: When Sole first charged through the horde of ghouls to give him assistance, he didn’t give her much of a look until their battle was over. In fact, he had to give her a double take because he could look her straight in the eyes even in his Power Armor. He stuttered as he asked for her help, which she was more than happy to offer and she even joined the Brotherhood after they managed to get back with ease. Sole drew much attention while she earned a reputaion for her jokes and remarks with the other members, including Maxson. Danse wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little jealous on how muscular she was and asked her what kind of workout routine she was doing that gave her such a build.

Hancock: Almost scoffs at Flints pathetic attempt at intimidating someone who could knock him out in one punch. It’s impressive (and kind of hot) on how muscular and tall this new women is as he practically has to lean back to look her in the eye. She ends up being really sweet and good natured, which is something that is rare to find in someone. But Hancock soon learns that the best part of his new friend is her wits that she uses mercilessly. It’s quiet a sight to see this duo charge around the Commonwealth and Hancock can’t help but boast to everyone about his friend that can wrestle a Super Mutant while telling a clever joke at the same time. (I bet you she gives him piggyback rides everywhere)

MacCready: Practically rushes out after the Gunners when he sees her standing beside him in the VIP lounge. He figures she was sent as a intimidation tactic by a former boss or someone he had wronged, because if she was, oh boy was it working. But after she offers him the full amount of caps and a kind smile, MacCready shakily accepts her as his new boss. He soon finds out she uses her mouth more over her muscles, which can be annoying at times but also hilarious. As long as he was getting well paid, he didn’t mind stopping to help people, even if it was a little tedious. But it did give him assurances that Sole was willing to help find the cure for his son.

X6: She is the first person to actually be intimidating to him at first as he almost shrinks back at the sight of her burly figure. But that all fades away when Sole starts to baby talk a random cat she stumbled upon on one of their first missions. Every time he tries to persuade her to keep the mean look on her, he ends up getting berated with her endless witty remarks. The courser cant help but feel a little disappinted that Father hadn’t gotten any of his mothers unique traits other than her piercing, judging gaze that never seems to leave him alone.

Strong: Thinks she is a new weird looking Super Mutant at first, but he quickly changes his mind when she speaks like a normal human. He asks if she ate a lot of raw meat to get so big and strong and if she drank the milk of human kindness. But when she denies all that but offers to help him search for it, he is more than thrilled even if she stops all the time to help tiny useless humans.

Dogmeat: He doesn’t give a fluff on how she looks, he loves her with all of his puppy heart from the very start. The pup gets all proud whenever she makes people laugh around her with only her words. He only wish it was easier to give his human lots of face kisses, she had to pick him up or lay down in order for him to give her proper kisses.

Moral of the story: Everybody be more like Dogmeat and don’t judge a book by its cover. Just don’t go licking random people please.

Whoever sent this request, I thank you so much! 😊💖😊💖😊

[thrassa]

1) You made your first appearence in a post made by a Greek specifically targeted towards foreigners with the sole intent of educating them on being respectful and conducting proper research towards our culture.

Your immediate reaction was to be hostile and to attack them with bullshit accusations.

That, in itself, showcases your intent and overall bigotry towards us.

Tell me, if the same post had been written by a person of another culture which has gone through similar, if not identical, oppression to the one we have faced, would you have reacted in such a manner? Would you have called them a "folkist"?

Also, tell me, if we (Greeks) don't own Greek culture, then who does?

You, perhaps?

2) You didn't stop there. Of course not.

They spoke about respect being offered to Hellenic culture, Hellenic heritage and, consequently, the Hellenic people. How is that "gatekeeping"? How is that "textbook folklism"?

Again, would you spew such bullshit if the person writing the post was anything other than Greek? If they were not a member of the culture you're trying your damnest to insert yourself into without a care about its people just like all the bigots and supremacists like Fallmerayer before you?

3) @dragolie Wrote the following so as to show you just how out of line some of your comments were - especially on this particular day. This is a day of national mourning, in case you weren't aware.

How did you respond?

How did they speak about Turks? What did they say that made you think they were xenophobic against them?

Also, your audacity in trying to dictate what words Greek speakers will use is literally insane. Thank you, I thought I'd seen it all.

Also, trying to make "xenos/xenoi" seem like a slur when it literally means "foreigner/stranger" and can easily be applied to Greeks (and is also applied to Greeks) makes this even funnier.

But you know what takes the prize? The fact that you supposedly practice Xenia and, therefore, acknowledge that you are a xenos (foreigner) when it suits you.

4) What was your next move?

To claim that @dragolie was a "Greek nationalist/ white supremacist who is really weird about Turkey" because they literally educated you on what today signifies for us.

Please, don't create any more strawmen - I didn't say you're supporting the Turkish government but this isn't about the Turkish government, is it?

You spoke of them being "really weird" about Turkey because they told you that on this day, 50 years ago, the Turks not only invaded but also raped, tortured and slaughtered native Cypriots, illegally occupied the northern part of their island and brought over settlers from the Turkish mainland to take over the homes they'd stolen.

You know what I find extremely hypocritical? The fact that you're drowning your page in Pro-Palestinian posts all the while villanising another victim of the exact same oppression. Would you have acted in a different manner if Israel was our oppressor instead of Turkey or would you have sided with them given that they committed their atrocities against us?

You really don't see the bigotry? No?

Bonus: Everyone who attempts to show you your bigotry is suddenly a "folkist/Greek supremacist" - my oh my, doesn't that sound familiar. . . Now where have I heard it before . . . Oh yes, the Zionists who call people "antisemitic" whenever they are judged for their actions and bigotry.

Huh, fancy that.

Show me where I was bigoted against Greeks. Post the screenshots. Show me where I said I endorse or support the Turkish government. I'll wait.

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

I have a theodicy-adjacent question if that's alright. How can I offer prayers of thanksgiving without implying that God "likes me better" than They like other people? For example, I often want to thank God for keeping my loved ones safe through this pandemic, but it feels weird when so many have lost dear ones. I've learned a lot about how to wrestle with God through your ministry, but how to bring your positive feelings to God without toeing the line of a prosperity gospel-esque mindset?

Anon, I feel you! Some point a few years ago I had a similar unsettling realization. I knew that gratitude is important not only for our relationship with God, but for our psychological wellbeing — yet I felt so guilty for thanking God for things i knew others didn’t have. Did attributing the good things in my life to God imply that God wasn’t with those who lacked those good things? 

I brought that guilt and discomfort to God (and still do, whenever it arises anew). asked Them to help me sit with it, accept it, and then transform it into something more fruitful.

guilt transformed to motivation. discomfort transformed to commitment. what i was left with was an understanding that i did not need to stop my prayers of thanksgiving, but to expand them.

i take time to really feel and express my gratitude for the abundance i experience. and then i ask God to help my gratitude move me to a desire for others to experience that abundance too. I ask for guidance in how i can help make that abundance happen in the the lives of those around me and far from me. 

___

i also make time for lament. many of us are taught how to ask God for things and how to thank God for things, but grief and lament are not taught. however, thanksgiving and lament are not opposites, but work together. they enrich one another. we need to take time for both.

a book that helped me embrace lament was Barbara Brown Taylor’s Learning to Walk in the Dark. You can read quotes and whole passages from it in my tag over here.

one of my favorite songs/psalms to sing/pray in lament is this one. The psalmist empowers us to question God, to ask why and how and when? and then the psalmist leads us to praise God anyway — to praise in spite of and with our doubts and our questions. 

when we look at all the pain in the world — in our own lives, the lives of loved ones, the lives of those we don’t even know, and in the struggling pulse of all Creation — we feel all sorts of things. Distress, despair, anger, grief. But some of us are afraid to bring those feelings to God. We’d rather avoid the feelings in general, repress them, not sit inside them for a while. (And certainly, we should not wallow in the bad all the time.) Bt when we dare to assign intentional time to sit in those feelings, God sits in them with us. 

And there is a strange thanksgiving in there, too — that we aren’t alone in the lament. We come to see that it is true that God does not will suffering upon any one of us — that the fact that sometimes i experience blessing while you struggle, or you find success while i go without, is not because God is choosing which happy few to bless that day. God really does will abundant life for all, and grieves when sin (individual, systemic, the rot that eats at this world) blocks that abundance for anyone. 

___

in continuing to make time to feel and express gratitude, and then to make time to lament and to both desire and participate in abundance for others, thanksgiving does not elevate me above others as “better” or “more blessed” than they are. instead, gratitude reminds me of how interconnected we are with one another. In the Body we all share, “If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it” (1 Cor 12:26).

___

When abundance wins out in spite of sin, we rejoice! When it is we who enjoy that abundance, our gratitude should not lead to smugness or self-congratulations, but to humility. it should shape us, move us to bring similar abundance to others.

A book that has really helped me understand that concept is Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass (which you can read online for free).

Christian texts have told me that the appropriate response to all God’s gifts is gratitude, but it’s Kimmerer’s book that helped me digest and embody just what that means. We acknowledge abundance, and we use that gratitude to connect us to the giver, and to others to whom that giver would also share Their gift.

Here’s one passage from her chapter “The Gift of Strawberries,” starting on page 33 of the webpage linked above:

Even  now,  after  more  than  fifty  Strawberry  Moons,  finding  a patch  of  wild strawberries  still  touches  me  with  a  sensation  of surprise, a feeling of unworthiness and gratitude for the generosity and kindness that comes with an unexpected gift all wrapped in red and green. “Really? For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have.” After fifty years  they  still  raise  the  question  of  how  to respond  to  their generosity.  Sometimes  it  feels  like  a  silly  question  with  a very simple answer: eat them. 

But I know that someone else has wondered these same things. In  our Creation stories  the  origin  of  strawberries  is  important. Skywoman’s  beautiful daughter,  whom  she  carried  in  her  womb from Skyworld, grew on the good green earth, loving and loved by all the other beings. But tragedy befell her when she died giving birth to her twins, Flint and Sapling. Heartbroken, Skywoman buried her beloved daughter in the earth. Her final gifts, our most revered plants, grew from her body. The strawberry arose from her heart.

In  Potawatomi,  the  strawberry  is ode ��min, the  heart  berry.  We recognize them as the leaders of the berries, the first to bear fruit.

Strawberries first shaped my view of a world full of gifts simply scattered at your feet. A gift comes to you through no action of your own, free, having moved toward you without your beckoning. It is not a reward; you cannot earn it, or call it to you, or even deserve it.  And  yet  it  appears.  Your  only  role  is  to  be open-eyed  and present.  Gifts  exist  in  a  realm  of  humility  and  mystery—as with random acts of kindness, we do not know their source.

...Gifts  from  the  earth  or  from  each  other  establish  a  particular relationship,  an  obligation  of  sorts  to  give,  to  receive,  and  to reciprocate. The field gave to us, we gave to my dad, and we tried to give back to the strawberries. When the berry season was done, the plants would send out slender red runners to make new plants.

Because I was fascinated by the way they would travel over the ground looking for good places to take root, I would weed out little patches  of  bare  ground  where  the  runners  touched  down.  Sure enough, tiny little roots would emerge from the runner and by the end of the season there were even more plants, ready to bloom under  the  next  Strawberry  Moon.  No  person  taught us  this—the strawberries  showed  us.  Because  they  had  given  us  a  gift, an ongoing relationship opened between us.

...It’s funny how the nature of an object—let’s say a strawberry or a pair  of  socks—is  so  changed  by  the  way  it  has  come  into  your hands, as a gift or as a commodity. The pair of wool socks that I buy at the store, red and gray striped, are warm and cozy. I might feel grateful for the sheep that made the wool and the worker who ran  the  knitting  machine.  I  hope  so.  But  I  have no inherentobligation  to  those  socks  as  a  commodity,  as  private  property. There is no bond beyond the politely exchanged “thank yous” with the clerk. I have paid for them and our reciprocity ended the minute I handed her the money. The exchange ends once parity has been established, an equal exchange. They become my property. I don’t write a thank-you note to JCPenney.

But what if those very same socks, red and gray striped, were knitted  by  my grandmother  and  given  to  me  as  a  gift?  That changes everything. A gift creates ongoing relationship. I will write a thank-you note. I will take good care of them and if I am a very gracious grandchild I’ll wear them when she visits even if I don’t like them. When it’s her birthday, I will surely make her a gift in return. As  the  scholar  and  writer  Lewis  Hyde  notes,  “It  is  the  cardinal difference  between  gift  and  commodity  exchange  that  a  gift establishes a feeling-bond between two people.”

That  is  the  fundamental  nature  of  gifts:  they  move,  and  their value increases with their passage. The fields made a gift of berries to  us  and  we  made  a  gift  of  them  to  our  father.  The  more something is shared, the greater its value becomes. This is hard to grasp  for  societies  steeped  in notions  of  private  property,  where others are, by definition, excluded from sharing. Practices such as posting  land  against  trespass,  for  example,  are expected  and accepted  in  a  property  economy  but  are  unacceptable  in  an economy where land is seen as a gift to all.

Lewis  Hyde  wonderfully  illustrates  this  dissonance  in  his exploration of the “Indian giver.” This expression, used negatively today as a pejorative for someone who gives something and then wants to have it back,  actually  derives from  a  fascinating  cross- cultural misinterpretation between an indigenous culture operating in a gift economy and a colonial culture predicated on the concept of private property. When gifts were given to the settlers by the Native  inhabitants,  the  recipients  understood  that  they  were valuable and were intended to be retained. Giving them away would have been an affront. But the indigenous people understood the value of the gift to be based in reciprocity and would be affronted if the  gifts  did  not  circulate  back  to  them.  

Many  of  our  ancient teachings counsel that whatever we have been given is supposed to be given away again. From the viewpoint of a private property economy, the “gift” is deemed  to  be  “free”  because  we  obtain  it  free  of  charge,  at  no cost. But in the gift economy, gifts are not free. The essence of the gift is that it creates a set of relationships. The currency of a gift economy is, at its root, reciprocity. In Western thinking, private land is understood to be a “bundle of rights,” whereas in a gift economy property has a “bundle of responsibilities” attached.

...

In  material  fact,  Strawberries  belong  only  to  themselves.  The exchange relationships  we  choose  determine  whether  we  share them  as  a  common gift  or  sell  them  as  a  private  commodity. A great  deal  rests  on  that choice.

For  the  greater  part  of  human history, and in places in the world today, common resources were the rule. But some invented a different story, a social construct in which everything is a commodity to be bought and sold. The market economy  story  has  spread  like  wildfire,  with  uneven  results  for human well-being and devastation for the natural world. But it is just a story we have told ourselves and we are free to tell another, to reclaim the old one.

One  of  these  stories  sustains  the  living  systems  on  which  we depend. One of these stories opens the way to living in gratitude and amazement at the richness and generosity of the world. One of these stories asks us to bestow our own gifts in kind, to celebrate our  kinship  with  the  world.  We  can  choose.  If all  the  world  is  a commodity,  how  poor  we  grow.  When  all  the  world  is  a gift  in motion, how wealthy we become.

[djmarinizelablog]

Ultimate Bonding Experience

Summary:

Hange and Moblit follow Levi and Petra on a date. It's a disaster.

Tags:

one-shot, fluff and humor, nonbinary Hange, they/them pronouns for Hange, officemates, best friends forever, friends to lovers, jealous Hange

Notes:

This is for the Levihan Filo Week Day 4 Prompt, Tourist Destinations, featuring Greenbelt, Makati (Yes, the audacity of me.)

—

"You're going out on a date with Petra?” Hange stood up too quickly, knocking down the pen holder on their office desk in process. “As in�� Petra Rall? From the Marketing Department? As in, sweet-as-candy, honey-bunny, gorgeous glam girl Petra?”

Levi swiveled his computer chair to face his best friend. "She asked me out."

"Hmm. And you didn't say no?" Hange was absentmindedly tapping the end of the pencil against their lower lip.

He gave a half-shrug. "Wanted to try something new for a change."

This was really new. Hange was incredulous. Levi never went on dates. Levi went on food trips and grocery shopping and karaoke nights (mainly due to Hange’s persistent nagging), but he never agreed to a date. There were always other people around whenever they hung out. The two of them had been best friends since college, and now as colleagues, Hange could tell from the numerous awkward and sort-of romantic encounters with Levi that Petra wasn't exactly his type.

"Is this a joke? Is this for a dare?" Hange kept prodding. They would bombard him with questions nonstop until he gave in. “Did you hit your head somewhere? Are you dying?”

"No, I just told you, Four-Eyes, I wanted to try something new.” Levi returned to his work and continued typing on his computer. “She said she already has planned something for tomorrow."

"This isn't you, Levi. You don't like itineraries," Hange said, sitting down to compose themself, gripping the pencil in their hand and holding it too tightly against the notepad.

"Maybe it's about time I do."

“So you’re choosing her over me?” Hange was already upset. Their hand was already shaking at this point, the tip of their pencil threatening to break. Levi would usually hang out with them to binge-watch a show or series on Saturdays over pizza and cheap beer, which reminded her, “What about our UBE?”

“Our—what?” He looked over his shoulder, confused.

Hange gave him a hopeful smile, hand still resting on the paper. “Our Ultimate Bonding... Experience?”

Levi glued his eyes to his computer screen once more. “You can Netflix and chill on your own for one night.”

The pencil snapped in half.

—

It was only 6 pm and Hange had already downed half a bucket of beers this Friday evening. Tomorrow morning, Levi would meet up with Petra somewhere for their date, maybe have lunch, a movie, some hand-holding and kissing, and then the two would possibly end it up with a bang. Something was really boiling deep inside Hange as these imagined scenes flashed through their mind.

And Erwin had to bear with them for tonight.

"I just don't understand, 'Win," Hange started, "Why would he do this? Why would he trade our pizza night for a girl he can't even relate to?"

Erwin was Hange and Levi's colleague in the same department before he got promoted to an executive position in corporate. Times like this, he would lend an ear to his friends' complaints and act as some sort of a part-time counselor, part-time therapist, and full-time drinking buddy.

Hange should be thankful Erwin had never charged them for these sessions before, but now with all of their whining, he was probably regretting that he gave them for free.

"Last I checked, you guys are just best buddies," Erwin commented. "Have you ever told him how much he means to you?"

Hange pouted.

"I'll take that as a no," Erwin said.

Their friend had a point.

"I can imagine it already, " Hange mused, eyes already watery, "I can imagine him walking down the aisle with pretty-face Petra and making babies with her, while I end up becoming that unknown relative who sends them presents for Christmas every year."

"Ah, I can imagine all the regrets you'll be having for the rest of your life."

Hange grabbed a fistful of hair in both hands. "What do I do now? I want Levi to be happy, I really do. I want to see him be happy, even if it's not with me. But why am I getting all riled up about this?"

"Then follow him," Erwin simply said as he wiped the beer of his mouth with his sleeve. "Follow him to the ends of the earth. Maybe you'll see for yourself."

Erwin had meant it as a figurative speech. When he said follow, he meant Hange supporting Levi all the way through. He never meant Hange stalking their best friend on his date.

Obviously, Hange had gotten it all wrong, because now they just blinked once, twice, a grin forming on their face. As if an epiphany had appeared before them. "Hmm. You're right."

Follow him.

This could be the greatest thing that Erwin Smith had ever come up with. Brilliant idea. Superb, even. One-of-a-kind strategy by none other than the genius Erwin Smith—oh, yes, yes, yes.

Erwin was still finishing up his beer when Hange tackled him into a hug out of gratitude, their smile wider than before. "You really are the best of the best, you know that?" They told him. This could work, Hange thought.

The plan was to follow Levi, literally.

—

"Boss, why did you pay me a hundred bucks to follow them?"

Hange was wringing their hands together. "We’re doing this together, Moblit! I wanna see how Levi acts around this girl."

"That's it?" Poor Moblit couldn't believe what he's hearing.

"I just wanna make sure he's making a good impression!"

They’re both sitting in a cafe right across Levi’s apartment. He and Hange were dressed up in plain clothes with matching sunglasses and baseball caps. Moblit had no choice; Hange was going to strangle his neck if he declined.

Moblit rested his head against his palm. "Aren't you jealous?"

"Pffft, me? Jealous?" The sour look on Hange's face was enough to tell Moblit that they weren't fooling anybody. It was just Levi’s attitude towards the entire ordeal that was tearing Hange apart. “I’m sure I’m not being rude.”

Moblit scratched his head and sighed. Hange as a boss could be really demanding at times, but the two of them were also friends in real life, which is why he agreed to this. "I thought Petra was head over heels for Oluo?"

"I thought so, too."

"He's dense, though," Moblit said. "Maybe this was just a ruse to get Oluo to confess?"

But Hange was already distracted by the sight of Levi coming out of the building.

"Ooh, he's leaving." Hange pointed towards the familiar figure. They then put their shades on as part of their undercover mission. "Let's go."

The two of them hid behind the fast food mascot of the big fat stupid ugly bee. Levi really knew how to dress up, Hange had noticed. He was wearing a plain button-up with dark pants, his hair neatly trimmed and his face cleanly shaven. He never dressed up like this whenever they hung out. It hurt Hange to see him this handsome. Levi then headed straight for the nearest station and waited for the next train to arrive. Hange and Moblit then took the same train but stayed on the other rail cart, catching a glimpse of Levi every now and then to make sure that he hadn't alighted by then.

“What would you do if they do end up together, Boss?” Moblit had to ask.

“I'd sign my life away as a single person for the rest of my years. Be an old cat person, maybe.”

The skyscrapers of Makati were passing them by, huge billboards left and right of commercial ads and government campaigns looming over them. If they looked far enough, they could see shanties and informal settlers nested in small alleys here and there. Hange had been seeing this for the past few years of their lives; Metro Manila could be daunting, but they wished they could spend away from the noisiness and busyness of the capital.

“He's getting out at Ayala Station, Boss!" Moblit pointed out. "They’re probably meeting somewhere in Greenbelt.”

“Ah, fancy-schmancy. Who could have known?”

Makati was the place only for the very rich, or for the very poor. There was no in between. Nobody dared to bat an eyelash at the rickety houses behind the skyscrapers. The shopping district and the high-end restaurants where affluent people would gather: celebrities, business executives, expatriates, anyone who could call themselves rich, rich, rich. Hange was none of those. Levi wasn't either, but he could easily pass off as one if he wanted to.

When they got off at the station, Hange and Moblit crouched behind the dumpster, craning their necks enough to get a glimpse of Levi coming up to Petra who stood waiting in front of the fountain.

“Ah, I’m so glad you’re here,” Petra said, her smile warm and happy as Levi walked alongside her. “Shall we?”

Petra was effortlessly gorgeous. She had her hair clipped into place, her slender figure matching the nice summer dress that she wore. She had also put on some light makeup, but even without it, Hange could tell that Petra would still be as breathtaking.

There really wasn't anything that Hange could hate about Petra Rall. Petra was attractive and alluring, sweet and shy, probably the ultimate dream girl of every person in their office. Hange would date Petra if she were even into them, provided the two of them had a spark.

But Hange's attention was all for Levi. Always had been. Always will be.

"Shall we, Boss?" Moblit interrupted Hange's train of thought.

"Right."

Tonight they felt that they had to accept the possibility of Levi ending up with someone else. Regardless of how this would end, Hange had decided they'd be there for him.

—

They didn't really blend in with this fancy-schmancy place. This was one of the most expensive fashion malls in the area; the price tags made broke people cry, and the restaurants were considered artisan for their taste. People were dressed up in crisp polos and cocktail dresses, the faint smell of perfume wafting here and there. The gardens had a beautiful landscape, stoned paths paving the way, and the lights were carefully draped on the trees around them, glowing like stars. It was a romantic setup for lovers.

Petra was pointing out all the different sights around the area, holding onto Levi's arm. Levi remained stiff all throughout their date, not even shedding a single ounce of emotion when Petra popped a joke. It ended up being a lousy one, though, since Levi didn't even scoff. Hange felt smug after that; their own jokes were terrible as well, but at least Levi would call them out for that.

"I think it's going well, don't you, Boss?" Hange's assistant teased.

“Oh, yeah, perfect, I can see how compatible they are.” Hange was being sarcastic.

Petra had chosen a place called People's Palace. It had a five-star rating on the internet, and even the cheapest item on the menu could break a whole in someone's wallet. There was no way they could eat there. Levi didn't even protest, though. He must have been saving up for this all along. Thankfully, the restaurant's walls were a solid transparent glass, and Hange could see the two of them from afar without having to go in.

Petra was saying something in a hushed tone when Levi came over to her side. He then put a hand on her face, tenderly brushing her cheek, as if he were about to go in for a kiss.

The moment Levi held Petra that close, Hange had to stifle their gasp which ended up like a strangled cry.

The sound made Levi look over his shoulder. Moblit had to cup his hand over Hange's mouth to shush them up, pulling them down behind the huge pots of plants.

"You alright?" Petra asked him, craning her neck towards the source of the sound as well. "What was that?"

Levi clicked his tongue. "Probably some lost bird. Well, more like a dying one."

The two went back to their meals and didn't bother to check if they were being followed. Moblit then let go of Hange and sighed in relief. They were safe, for now.

Everyone in the restaurant looked classy and elegant, soft lights all over the room. After Levi had paid for the meal (he didn't look too happy when he saw the check), he and Petra stood up and exited through the other door on the farthest end. Hange had forgotten about that. The People's Palace had an entryway connecting to the indoor gardens. They would have to enter the premise in order to follow Levi and Petra.

Without any further thought, Hange immediately stood up to barge into the restaurant, urging their assistant to follow. "They're probably confessing to each other in the gardens!" Hange was already right through the entrance. "Moblit, hurry up, I need to—"

"Boss, watch out!"

The warning came in too late. Hange had already knocked down a drink from the waiter's tray right behind them, the liquid spilling all onto the customer sitting nearest to where they were. The huge beefy man was furious, the steam already coming out of his reddened ears.

"Why, you, son-of-a-gun—"

Hange held up both hands in front of their face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

"Do you even belong here, you prick?" The stranger grabbed the front of Hange's oversized shirt. There were gasps from other customers, and one of the servers left to call the manager.

"Please, don't!"

The man started shaking Hange. "Filthy, pathetic, piece of—"

Somebody grabbed his wrist before he could even do anything else. "Let go."

It was Levi.

"And who the fuck are you?"

He was small, but his presence was intimidating, firm. "My friend already apologized. Isn't that enough?"

The stranger released his hold of Hange and held out the stained fabric. "Fucking pay for this shirt, asshole!"

Hange was mouthing 'sorry, sorry, sorry,' to him, their eyes filled with apology. Levi didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, he quickly took out twenty bucks from his wallet and shoved it into the huge man's hand. He then grabbed his friend by the elbow. "Hange, come on."

"Hey, this isn't enough, shortstack," the stranger grumbled, crumpling the bill. He gestured once more to his stained shirt. "Do you know how much I bought this for?"

"You could buy a similar one from one of the thrift stores downtown for less than half the price. I doubt anybody would notice." He tugged at Hange again and headed for the exit.

"What did you say, you little—"

They were out of the restaurant before the man could even finish. The manager had kept the customer in his seat, trying to console him with a discounted coupon.

Outside was a breath of fresh air, the coolness of it enough to clear their minds.

“You alright?”

Hange was still trembling. Their lips quivered, too. They had never been roughly-held like that before. Levi calmed them down by rubbing their back, urging them to take slow, steady breaths.

"Levi?" Petra called after the two of them. "Are we still heading to the movie?"

Hange had feared this all along. They didn't want to ruin his date with Petra; they merely wanted to see Levi, and now they had done it. Hange held their own face in both hands. Levi saw it and knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry, Petra, but we should probably call it off at this point.”

"Should we re-sched?"

Levi paused before responding. "I had a good time tonight, Petra. But I think... once is enough.

“Oh. Okay.” Petra stood still for a moment, disappointed. They expected her to cause a scene, to thrash at him or at Hange, and then complain about her evening. But to Petra's credit, she merely broke into a smile and said, "Thanks for giving me a chance, Levi. I had a good time, too. You guys enjoy the rest of the night."

The huge beefy man suddenly burst out of the glass door, the restaurant manager no longer able to hold him back. "You fucking punks, I'm going to call the police—"

Hange hid behind Levi out of instinct, which didn't make any sense, considering that he was a couple inches shorter than them. "What now?" Their hand was still in his.

"Go ahead, Petra's safe with me," Moblit assured them. "I'll text you guys once we get home safely."

Levi nodded and took off with Hange.

They ran past the gardens, past the expensive shops, past the fountains and the bright lights. Everything seemed like a blur. Hange's senses had overloaded their brain at this point, especially since Levi's hand was still holding on to theirs. It was warm. They never expected any of these to happen. Levi would look over his shoulder once in a while to see if Hange could still keep up. They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, and with every tug of their hand, Hange felt like they were living in a dream. The two of them had already reached the station, heavily panting as they clutched their chest.

"So much for trailing me all this time, Four-Eyes," Levi heaved. He knew.

Hange was beyond apologetic. "I'm sorry, okay! I just wanted to see how you'd act around someone while on a date."

Levi made another scoffing sound. For a minute, Hange thought he was mad. But the intensity in his eyes was full of longing, like somehow, he did want Hange to follow him. And then Levi sighed. "Erwin told me you might be spying; my suspicions were confirmed when I saw you hiding behind the plants."

“Oh.” Hange had nothing else to say. “Well, then, I, uhm, I should probably head home. Sorry for ruining your date."

They were about to leave when Levi held their hand once again, stopping Hange in their tracks. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"You already ruined my date, so you might as well hang out with me for the rest of the night."

Hange couldn't believe what they were hearing. It was almost too good to be true. But the reality dawned upon them; they were still in Makati, and they couldn’t really afford any of these places. "Uh… well, I don't really have any money, and I'm not really sure I want to dine here…"

"It's fine,” Levi said. “I know a place to go."

-------

Part 2 coming up soon!

[nanshe-of-nina]

Favorite History Books || Verneuil 1424: The Second Agincourt: The Battle of the Three Kingdoms by Richard Wadge ★★★☆☆

The four great land battles in the Hundred Years War are Crécy in 1346, Poitiers in 1356, Agincourt in 1415 and Verneuil in 1424. In terms of popular knowledge of what are thought of as key events in English history, they probably fall into the following order: Agincourt, Crécy, Poitiers and Verneuil. In fact, in terms of popular knowledge it’s doubtful that Verneuil should even be on the list. Why is this?

... If you have read this far you will be aware of the significance of the Battle of Verneuil. While it is the only one of the four battles without a reigning king on the field, a king’s direct representative, John, Duke of Bedford, regent in France, was present. Like Crécy, both sides had sought battle, so when it came the battle would be bound to have significant consequences for them both. It is probable that it was the second biggest of the four battles in terms of numbers of men involved. The English victory broke the morale of the Armagnacs, leaving them in the sort of paralysis that affected the French after Agincourt whenever Henry V was campaigning. If the English had lost, it is difficult to know how much of northern France they would have been able to hang on to. It is also likely that the Duke of Burgundy would have reconsidered his position very quickly. The writer of the Parisian Chronicle, who was a supporter of the English and Burgundians, as were many citizens of Paris, makes clear the sense of impending disaster that they felt if the Armagnacs won at Verneuil, ‘for it was said that they had boasted that if they had beaten our people they would have spared neither women nor children, heralds nor musicians; all would have been put to the sword’.

Like the small-scale uprisings in Normandy after the false reports of an English defeat at Verneuil, these blood-curdling statements may have been part of a deliberate attempt by the Armagnacs to destabilise Paris as part of the strategic objectives of the battle-seeking campaign which culminated at Verneuil. If the Armagnacs had won at Verneuil, it is quite likely that the small uprisings in Normandy would have increased in scale and scope, if only because Bedford had had to draw so many men from the Normandy garrisons to make up his army for Verneuil. If these men had not returned because of a defeat, the English garrisons would have been too thinly spread to restore civil order, and resist the resurgent Armagnacs. So one of the reasons that the Battle of Verneuil is largely forgotten is that the English victory achieved a negative result! Because the English won, disaster did not befall the English-ruled lands in northern France, and so the event that prevented disaster was soon forgotten. There is plenty of evidence that men recognised the battle as important at the time but it soon fell out of memory. Why? One reason has already been noted – victory meant that things continued to go well for the English in France. Maintaining the status quo in France, the state of steady English progress towards the young Henry VI being king of both countries, was not something that fired up the imaginations of the mass of the English people in the way that the rich booty Edward III brought back from France did in the fourteenth century. While Bedford made sure that his nephew’s subjects in France were aware of their deliverance from the Armagnac peril, he doesn’t seem to have broadcast it widely in England. He probably left it to the council to do so, and they had more parochial matters on their minds, as has been noted above.

The victory ensured that the war in France went on, which pleased the military classes in England. These included men from all social and economic groups because of the importance of archers for the English military effort. But these military men seem to have been becoming detached from English society at large for two reasons. Firstly, the English forces fighting in France were becoming increasingly professional, with men serving for years through a sequence of contracts. This probably led to them having relatively little contact with English civilians to tell their stories. Also, many of them settled in France, either on land grants received as rewards for service or as veterans/settlers who just remained in the area they had served in because that was where they knew people.

Secondly, unlike the French wars under Edward III in the 1340s and 1350s, the wars between 1418 and 1430 did not bring great wealth into England from the ransoms and the spoils of war. In fact they cost money. Even before the death of Henry V, who had achieved so much to boost English self-esteem, the English were becoming very reluctant to keep on paying for the wars. After his death it was a continual problem for Bedford and subsequent English commanders in France to find enough money to pay for anything like enough troops to keep the French at bay. All this meant that the events of the wars in France after Verneuil were probably not that well known in England and there was no reason for them to be widely popular. So, the victory at Verneuil appears to have had less importance than the other great battles because the people of England were not greatly concerned about the wars in France, so long as they didn’t have to pay taxes to support them. But, if the battle had been lost, with the result that the English holdings in France were under serious threat, it is probable that there would have been some sort of popular outcry about it. There certainly was in the early 1450s when the French regained all of their country except Calais.