#irish medieval food

[thejoyofseax]

Sigginstown Pottage

One of the most basic dishes of the medieval period - and in any culture, pretty much - is the pottage. This is basically "stuff cooked in a pot with water", which is a very broad definition. This particular "recipe" is one that I think is straightforward enough, uses common enough ingredients, and is palatable enough that it was almost certainly made in pre-Norman Ireland (by statistical inevitability, if nothing else). I've given it the name of "Sigginstown Pottage" because I first made it at Sigginstown Castle, and it's useful to have a name by which to refer to it.

1 smoked pale ham, chopped into 1cm cubes 2 onions, chopped (or some celery, also chopped) 2 leeks, roughly chopped 6 carrots, roughly chopped c. 500g pearl barley, bulgur wheat, or other likely whole grain Water to cover

Put everything above into a pot, and simmer until the meat and grains are cooked. Taste and season with some black pepper if needed. Serve hot.

Some observations: Onion is the more "authentic" between it and celery, but both were available. I've been going easy on onions lately due to food sensitivities. Leeks are absolutely a period Irish food, and possibly close to a staple; they're mentioned a fair bit in texts.

The pale ham (I don't know if this is known outside Ireland; it's a small chunk of cured ham, which is pretty salty) provides enough salt that you shouldn't need to add any more. The smoking is pretty solidly attested in period by the number of bones we see with holes for hooks.

You'll see some people claiming that carrots only arrived in Ireland with the Normans, but there are carrot seeds in the archaeobotanic remnants from Viking Dublin, and there's an old Irish word, meacon, which denotes tap-rooted vegetables like parsnips and carrots, but is usually used for carrots. So I'm pretty confident in including these.

The end result is a very solid, stick-to-the-ribs kind of stew; good eating for colder weather or when you've been doing physical work. I've only ever cooked it in cast iron, and it turns out that if you leave the leftovers in the pot overnight, the combination of whole grains and iron results in a horrifically grey stuff, which still tastes fine, but looks absolutely awful. So eat it hot, and don't leave leftovers.

#pre norman ireland #pre norman irish cuisine #pre norman irish food #irish food #irish medieval food #sca #medieval cooking #medieval food #viking ireland #norse ireland #sigginstown #sigginstown pottage #barley #carrots #leeks #onions #ham #cast iron

[arctic-hands]

You know that genre of posts/videos about how our peasant ancestors are behind our shoulders looking at the cheap processed crap we eat and thinking "Huzzah! Our child feasts like a king!" ?

[Image Description: a large steel pan on the stove, its glass lid having a bit of condensation on the inside, partially obscuring the vote view. Still, inside the pan the chunks of beef, small peeled potatoes, and florets of broccoli are visible stewing in a dark brown broth. End I.D.]

Canned potatoes, frozen broccoli, and a microwavable Hornell beef roast, with a broth made of the au jus the beef is supposed to be microwaved in, the salty water from the potato can, and an extra cup of water with Better Than Bouillon Roasted Garlic stirred in. Very lazy, cheap but only because I got everything but the Hornell beef on sale (have you seen the price of even canned veg lately??), and otherwise not impressive unless you're used to solely eating (fuck what did peasants eat in the Middle Ages why is my random trivia nerd prowess failing me now) coarse barley bread, nettles, and dandelion wine because that's all the Lords of the Lands would allot to you

#also seaweed since i have a hefty chunk of Irish in me #actually i don't know if that was a medieval thing or just a Potato Famine thing #btw not knocking the peasant food. especially the seaweed. i actually like eating that on its own #i am knocking barley bread solely because i having celiac cannot eat it #but i do think my ancestors would be pleased with tonight's bounty #image described #food #alcohol mention

[hearthandheathenry]

All About Beltane

Beltane, also known as Bealtaine in Irish, is a Gaelic holiday traditionally held on May 1st or the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. It is believed to be named after the Celtic sun god Belenus. It was widely observed in Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle Of Man, and is one of the 4 major Celtic fire festivals. It is mentioned in even the earliest Irish literature and marked the beginning of summer and used as the marker to drive cattle into their summer pastures. Although public celebrations have mostly fallen out after the 20th century and many traditions have been mixed with other cultural holidays (such as the Roman holiday May Day), many Celtic Neopagans and Wiccans still celebrate, and many local traditions still continue, causing it to now get a cultural revival.

Traditionally, rituals were held to protect the livestock that moved pastures, along with crops, dairy products, and people, and to encourage growth. It was also important to appease the Aos Sí, or nature spirits/fairies, which were believed to be more active then.

According to early medieval texts in 908, druids would make two bonfires and drive cattle between them to protect them from disease. In the 18th and 19th centuries, bonfires continued to be an important part of the celebrations. Before the bonfires were lit, all hearth fires were put out, and then relit using the fire from the Beltane bonfires after the celebration.

Continuing into the 19th century, cattle were still driven over or between flames, or sometimes around the fires or made to leap over. The people themselves did as well for good luck and protection. Once the fires died down, people would dab themselves with the ashes and sprinkle them over their crops and livestock. Torches from the bonfires would also be brought home and carried around the home or boundaries, and also used to relight the hearth.

Food was also an important part of the Beltane festival, and usually included a feast of lamb, which, historically, was sacrificed. In 1769, it was written that a hot drink, called a caudle, made of eggs, butter, oatmeal, and milk was served, along with tossing a bit on the ground as an offering. A Beltane Bannock, a type of oatmeal cake, was also written to be important and had a few traditions around it.

In one tradition, the Beltane Bannock had nine knobs on it and each person would take the bannock and face the fire, proceeding to break off the knobs of bannock one at a time and tossing them behind their shoulder as an offering to the spirits for protection over their livestock and from predators (one for the cow, one for the sheep, one for the fox, etc). Afterwards, they would drink the caudle.

According to other 18th century writers, there was another Beltane Bannock tradition where the bannock would be cut into slices and one was marked with charcoal. The slices were then thrown into a bonnet and everyone would take one out while blindfolded. According to one writer, whoever pulled the marked bannock slice had to leap through the fire 3 times. According to another, the person would instead be pretend-thrown into the fire and for some time afterward people would talk about the person as if they were dead. This may have always been symbolic, or it may have been a tradition from a time where actual human sacrifice was used. This tradition was also near identical to May Day traditions that occurred in Wales and other parts of Europe, however.

Other traditions including flowers and plants were also observed, especially ones that evoked fire. Documents from the 19th century cite that yellow and white flowers, such as primrose, rowan, hawthorn, gorse, hazel, and marsh marigold was used and placed at doorways and windows. Sometimes they were strewn into garland, and other times they were made into bouquets, made into crosses, or fastened to them. They were also fastened to cows and milking/butter equipment.

Decorating a May Bush or May Bough was also a widespread tradition, and it usually consisted of a small tree or branch (typically hawthorn, rowan, holly, or sycamore) decorated with bright flowers, ribbons, candles, painted shells or egg shells from Easter, and more. In some traditions they also decorated it with gold and silver May Balls, which were hurling balls, that were then either given out to children or gifted to winners of a hurling match. It was also known as the only acceptable time to cut a thorn tree, as they were associated with fairies and may have also been a relic of worshipping tree spirits. It would either be decorated where it grew, or branches hung over windows, doors, roofs, and barns either inside or outside. Traditionally, it was the responsibility of the eldest of the house to decorate it.

The tree was usually left up until May 31st, but in some traditions it would be burned in the festival bonfire after singing and dancing around it. In Dublin and Belfast, May Bushes were brought into town and decorated by the whole neighborhood, with each neighborhood competing for the most beautiful bush. These competitions could also lead to neighborhoods attempting to steal others May Bushes, which eventually led to the May Bush being outlawed in Victorian times.

Appeasing the fairies was also a big part in Beltane celebrations, with many traditions revolving around offerings to the fairies and also warding them off, as there were many fears around them stealing dairy. One protection tradition was to leave 3 black coals under the butter churn. Another was to hang May Boughs on the milk pails. And yet another was to hang cattle tails in the barns. Flowers were also used to decorate the cattle's horns for good luck.

Farmers would also lead a procession around the boundaries of the farm and would "carry with them seeds of grain, implements of husbandry, the first well water, and the herb vervain (or rowan)", stopping at the four cardinal points of direction starting at the east, and performing rituals towards each direction at each stop. These processions were said to bring protection of their farm produce and encourage fertility. Some people also made the sign of the cross using milk on the backside of cattle for good luck.

As for fairy offerings, one tradition was to pour milk or leave food at places associated with the fairies such as "fairy trees". In Ireland, cattle were brought to "fairy forts" where a small amount of their blood was poured into the earth with prayers of the herd's safety. Sometimes, the blood would be left to dry and then be burnt.

Visiting holy wells was also a popular way to celebrate Beltane. Visitors would walk sunwise, moving from east to west, around the well while praying for health. They would then leave offerings of coins or cloth. The first water drawn from the well on Beltane was thought to be especially potent, and would bring good luck to the person who drew it.

Morning dew on Beltane was also thought to bring goodluck and health, and maidens would wash their face with it or roll in it at dawn or before sunrise on Beltane. It was also collected in a jar, left in sunlight, and then filtered. The dew was said to increase sexual attractiveness, maintain youthfulness, protect from sun damage, and ensure skin health during the ensuing year.

Modern day celebrations may vary from these more traditional festival activities, but many choose to incorporate or take inspiration from the traditions at least. Popular traditions still revolve around bonfires, feasts, decorating a May Bush, and focusing on protection and growth.

Beltane Associations

Colors - yellow, white, red, green

Food - lamb, milk and dairy, beef, bannocks, caudle, cakes

Animals - cattle, sheep, other herd animals

Items - primrose, rowan, hawthorn, gorse, hazel, marsh marigold, holly, sycamore, yellow and white flowers, flower garland, greenery, morning dew, dairy products

Crystals - citrine, fire agate, fire opal, carnelian, red and yellow jasper

Other - protection, fertility, good luck, fire, smoke, ash, sun, bonfires, farming

Ways To Celebrate

light a bonfire

jump over or dance around a bonfire

decorate a May Bush or May Bough

craft and hang flower garland

bake Beltane Bannocks

collect morning dew

create some caudle

ward and protect your home or property

leave offerings for the fairies

focus on protection, growth, and luck magic

enjoy time in the sun

have a feast

create a bouquet out of yellow and white flowers

visit a farm or petting zoo

#beltane #beltaine #bealtaine #celtic #gaelic #irish #scottish #pagan #witch #witchy #wicca #may day #magick #magic #magickal #grimoire #tradition #celebrate #bonfire #fire festival #witchcraft #spiritual #witchblr #witch community #paganism #pagan witch #celtic paganism #paganblr #about #dairy

[themori-witch]

English Folk/Traditional Names for Common Plants & Herbs

These are known now as folk names, but back in the medieval era and well into the 18th century, these were the common names for some of the herbs and plants in use in witchcraft (and generally!) today.

This list is not an exhaustive one; the names given here are just some of the names that were used primarily in England for common plants within the region.These plants have other unique and wonderful names in many other cultures and languages throughout the world. 

✧ ADDER’S TONGUE (Ophioglossum Vulgatum) A.K.A.: English Adder’s Tongue, Snake’s Tongue, Viper’s Tongue, Serpent’s Tongue, Adder’s Spear, Christ’s Spear.

✧ AGRIMONY (Agrimonia Eupatoria) A.K.A.: Harvest Lice, Cat’s Tail, Liverwort, Sticklewort, Stickwort, Stickweed, Fairy’s Wand, Church Steeples, Aaron’s Rod, Beggar’s Lice/Ticks.

✧ ALDER (Alnus Glutinosa) A.K.A.: Black Alder, Fever Bush, Owler.

✧ ANGELICA (Angelica Archangelica) A.K.A.: Holy Ghost/Root of the Holy Ghost, St. Michael’s flower, Angel’s Food.

✧ ANISE (Pimpinella Anisum) A.K.A.: Sweet Alice, Aniseed.

✧ APPLE (Malus) A.K.A.: Fruit of the Gods, Fruit of the Underworld, Silver Branch, Silver Bough.

✧ ASH (Fraxinus Excelsior) A.K.A.: Bird’s Tongue, Hampshire Weed, Widow-maker, Venus of the Woods, Husbandman’s tree.

✧ BALSAM (Commiphora Opolbalsamum) A.K.A.: Balsam of Gilead, Balm Tree, Mecca Myrrh.

✧ BASIL (Oscimum Basilicum) A.K.A.: Our Herb, St. Joseph’s Wort, Witches’ Herb, King of Herbs, Holy Basil. 

✧ BAY (Laurus Nobilis) A.K.A.: Bay Laurel, True Laurel, Daphne, Noble Laurel.

✧ BERGAMOT (Monarda Didyma) A.K.A.: Horsebalm, Bee Balm, Scarlet Mondara.

✧ BIRCH (Betula Pendula) A.K.A.: Silver Birch, White Birch, Lady of the Woods.

✧ BITTERSWEET (Solanum Dulcamara) A.K.A.: Woody Nightshade, Felon-wort, Felonwood, Blue Nightshade, Fever Twig, Staff Vine, Violet Bloom.

✧ BLACKBERRY (Rubus Fruticosus) A.K.A.: Bramble, Fingerberry, Blackhide, Blackbutter, Thimbleberrym Brambleberry, Gouthead.

✧ BLUEBELL (Hyacinthoides Non Scrupta) A.K.A.: Nodding Squill, Auld Man’s Bell, Ring-o-bells, Wood Bells.

✧ BROOM (Cytisus Scoparius) A.K.A.: Besom, Irish Tops, Scotch Broom, Butcher’s Broom, Sweet Broom.

✧ BURDOCK (Arctium Lappa) A.K.A.: Thorny Burr, Beggar’s Buttons, Sticky Bobs, Love Leaves, Hare Burr.

✧ CARNATION (Dianthus Caryophyllus) A.K.A.: Gilliflower, July Flower, Clove Pink, Sops-in-wine.

✧ CHAMOMILE (Anthemis Nobilis) A.K.A.: Whig Plant, Chamomel, Earth/Ground Apple, 

✧ CHESTNUT [SWEET] (Castanea Sativa) A.K.A.: Marion, Jupiter’s Nut.

✧ CHICKWEED (Stellaria Media) A.K.A.: Starweed, Adder’s Mouth, Scarweed/wort, Tongue Grass, Stitchwort, White Bird’s Eye, Little Star Lady.

✧ CHICORY (Cichorium Intybus) A.K.A.: Witloof, Blue Sailors, Coffeeweed.

✧ CLARY [WILD] (Salvia Verbenaca) A.K.A.: Christ’s Eye, Wild Clear-eye, Vervain Sage, Eyeseed.

✧ CLEAVERS (Galium Aparine) A.K.A.: Catchweed, Beggar Lice, Goose Grass, Sticky Willy, Bedstraw, Robin-run-the-hedge, Goose’s Hair, Hedge-burrs, Milk Sweet, Stick-a-back, Scratchweed, Barweed.

✧ COMFREY (Symphytum Officinale) A.K.A.: Knitbone, Slippery Root, Blackwort, Bruisewort, Ass Ear.

✧ DAISY (Bellis Perennis) A.K.A.: Day’s Eye, Poet’s Darling, Bachelor’s Buttons, Bairnwort, Billy Buttons, Boneflower, Margaret’s Herb.

✧ DANDELION (Taraxacum Officinale) A.K.A.: Swine’s Snout, Blowball, Puffball, Clockflower, Tell-the-time, Priest’s Crown, Lion’s Tooth.

✧ DEADLY NIGHTSHADE (Atropa Belladonna) A.K.A.: Belladonna, Banewort, Black-cherry, Devil’s Cherries, Naughty Man’s Cherries, Devil’s Herb.

✧ FEVERFEW (Tanacetum Parthenium) A.K.A.: Featherfew, Featherfoil, Midsummer Daisy, Nosebleed.

✧ FOXGLOVE (Digitalis Purpurea) A.K.A.: Fairy Gloves/Fingers/Petticoats/Thimbles/Weed, Witches’ Glove, Witches’ Bells, Our Lady’s Glove, Dead Men’s Bells.

✧ GARLIC (Allium Sativum) A.K.A.: Poor Man’s Treacle, Stinkweed, Camphor of the Gods.

✧ GOLDENROD (Solidago Vibgaurea) A.K.A.: Aaron’s Rod, Cast the Spear.

✧ HAWTHORN (Crataegus Monogyna) A.K.A.: May Blossom, Mayflower, Whitethorn, Hagthorn, Ladies’ Meat.

✧ HELLEBORE [BLACK] (Helleborus Niger) A.K.A.: Bear’s Foot, Setter-wort/grass.

✧ HEMLOCK (Conium Maculatum) A.K.A.: Poison Hemlock, Devil’s Porridge.

✧ HENBANE (Hysoscyamus Niger) A.K.A.: Hog Bean, Stinking Nightshade, Henbell, Devil’s Eye, Witches’ Herb, Devil’s Tobacco.

✧ HOLLY (Ibex Auifolium) A.K.A.: Bat’s Wings, Holy Tree, Christ’s Thorn.

✧ HONEYSUCKLE (Lonicera Periclymenum) A.K.A.: Woodbind, Fairy Trumpets, Sweet Suckle, Honeybind.

✧ HOREHOUND [BLACK] (Ballota Nigra) A.K.A.: Madwort, Black Hoarhound, Black Archangel.

✧ HOREHOUND [WHITE] (Marrubium Vulgare) A.K.A.: Bull’s Blood, White Archangel, Eye of the Star, Houndbane, Devil’s Eye.

✧ IVY (Hedera Helix) A.K.A.: Gort, Bindwood, Lovestone. 

✧ JUNIPER (Juniperus Communis) A.K.A.: Bastard Killer, Gin Berry.

✧ LADY’S MANTLE (Alchemilla Vulgaris) A.K.A.: Our Lady’s Mantle, Lion’s Foot, Bear’s Foot, Nine Hooks.

✧ LAVENDER (Lavendula Angustifolia) A.K.A.: Elf Leaf, Spikenard, True Lavender.

✧ LEMON BALM (Melissa Officinalis) A.K.A.: Sweet Melissa, Bee Balm, Sweet Balm.

✧ LEMON VERBENA (Aloysia Triphylla) A.K.A.: Lemon Louisa, Lemon Beebrush.

✧ LILY OF THE VALLEY (Convallaria Majalis) A.K.A.: May Lily, Our Lady’s Tears, Mary’s Tears, Ladder to Heaven.

✧ MALLOW (Malva Sylvestris) A.K.A.: Cheese-cake, Pick-cheese, Round Dock, Wild Mallow, Wood Mallow.

✧ MANDRAKE (Mandragora Officinarum) A.K.A.: Satan’s Apple, Love Plant, Mandragora.

✧ MARIGOLD (Calendula Officinalis) A.K.A.: Bride of the Sun, Drunkard, Husbandman’s Dial, Mary Gold, Summer’s Bride.

✧ MARJORAM (Origanum Majorana) A.K.A.: Wintersweet, Joy of the Mountain, Mountain Mint.

✧ MEADOWSWEET (Filipendula Ulmaria) A.K.A.: Bridewort, Queen of the Meadows, Little Queen, Quaker Lady, Mead Sweet, Gravel Root.

✧ MINT [PEPPERMINT] (Mentha Piperita) A.K.A.: Brandy Mint, English Mint.

✧ MINT [SPEARMINT] (Mentha Spicata) A.K.A.: Garden Mint, Hart Mint, Our Lady’s Mint, Sage of Bethlehem.

✧ MISTLETOE (Viscum Coloratum) A.K.A.: Druid’s Herb, Witches’ Broom, Wood of the Cross, Golden Bough, Devil’s Fuge.

✧ MONKSHOOD (Aconitum Napellus) A.K.A.: Monk’s Blood, Blue Wolf’s-bane, Aconite, Women’s Bane, Devil’s Helmet, Friar’s Cap.

✧ MUGWORT (Artemisia Vulgaris) A.K.A.: Lion’s Tail, Lion’s Tart, Heart-wort.

✧ MULLEIN (Verbascum Thapsus) A.K.A.: Blanket/Velvet/Woolly Mullein, Our Lady’s Blanket, Beggar’s Blanket, Aaron’s Rod, Adam’s Rod, Jupiter’s Staff, Jacob’s Staff, Peter’s Staff, Virgin Mary’s Candle, Lady’s Foxglove, Graveyard Dust.

✧ NETTLE (Urtica Dioica) A.K.A.: Stinging Nettle, Burn Weed, Burn Hazel.

✧ PARLSEY (Petroselinum Crispum) A.K.A.: Devil’s Oatmeal, Persil.

✧ PENNYROYAL (Mentha Legium) A.K.A.: Royal Thyme, Run-by-the-ground, Lurk-in-the-ditch, Pudding Grass.

✧ ROSEMARY (Rosemarinus Officinalis) A.K.A.: Dew of the Sea, Sea Dew, Elf Leaf, Guardrobe, Rose of Mary.

✧ RUE (Ruta Graveolens) A.K.A.: Herb of Grace, Herb of Repentance, Mother of Herbs.

✧ [CLARY] SAGE (Salvia Sclarea) A.K.A.: Clear-Eye, See-bright, Eyebright.

✧ ST. JOHN’S WORT (Hypericum Perforatum) A.K.A.: Scare-devil, Balm of the Warrior’s Wound, Rose of Sharon.

✧ SORREL (Rumex Acetose) A.K.A.: Green Sauce, Sour Sauce, Cuckoo Sorrow.

✧ SWEET WOODRUFF (Galium Odoratum) A.K.A.: Wild Baby’s Breath, Master of the Woods, Ladies in the Hay.

✧ TANSY (Tanacetum Vuulgare) A.K.A.: Bitter Buttons, Golden Buttons, Cow Bitter.

✧ TARRAGON (Artemisia Dracunculus) A.K.A.: Dragon’s Wort, Little Dragon.

✧ THISTLE [BLESSED] (Cnicus Benedictus) A.K.A.: Holy Thistle.

✧ THISTLE [MILK] (Silybum Marianum) A.K.A.: Our Lady’s Thistle, Saint Mary’s Thistle, Sow Thistle, Marian Thistle.

✧ VALERIAN (Valeriana Officinalis) A.K.A.: Garden Heliotrope, St. George’s Herb, Bloody Butcher, Cat’s Valerian, Vandal Root.

✧ VERVAIN (Verbena Officinalis) A.K.A.: Herb of Grace, Enchanter’s Herb, Britannica, Juno’s Tears, Divine Wood, Pigeongrass, 

✧ WITCH HAZEL (Hamamelis Virginiana) A.K.A.: Spotted Alder, Winterbloom, Snapping Hazelnut.

✧ WORMWOOD (Artemisia Absinthium) A.K.A.: Absinthe, Crown for a King, Green Ginger.

✧ YARROW (Achillea Millefolium) A.K.A.: Woundwort, Nose-Bleed, Thousand-Leaf, Arrowroot, Carpenter’s Weed, Devil’s Plaything, Devil’s Nettle, 

Sources, References and Cross-Checks: Breverton's Complete Herbal (Terry Breverton), Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs (Scott Cunningham), Medieval Plant Names and Their Modern Corollaries (The Met Cloister).

If you like my content and would like to help me keep providing free stuff for my gorgeous Ghoul Gang, you can tip your witch here: [Paypal].

#herbs #herbalism #folk magic #folk witchcraft #the mori witch #witchcraft #botany

[targaryen-realness]

Witchling chapter 3

Title: Witchling

Pairing: Osferth x Druidess!Reader

Warnings: Canon depiction of violence, mention of slavery, wounds and scars, magic, historical innacuracy (sorry medieval Scotland is not my specialty), talk about faith and christianity. The reader is fem but there is no physical description except for the fact she is a scot from the Highlands. Spoilers for season 3 of the Last Kingdom

Summary: As they are riding away from Winchester, Osferth and Lord Uhtred’s group come across a mysterious woman. She needs help but the power within her is obvious. Captivated, Osferth hopes she will stay, but as Uhtred asks her to travel with them, he cannot help but wonder what is going on in his lord’s head.

Notes: Thank you for the support on this work so far! I hope you will enjoy this chapter! 

You dreamed of death. The cries of pain and sadness woke you up, and it took you seconds before you realised this was all in your head. You took your head in your hands trying to collect your thoughts and stop the shivers that travelled through your body.

“Are you alright lady?”

It was Finan and his comforting irish accent that was approaching you. You looked up and found him carrying some bread. 

“Had a rough sleep?”

You nodded, simply accepting the food. You did not know if you should tell the truth. Someone had died or was going to die. You knew it. You felt it. The intense pain and  fear. The cries of life and death. 

“It’s okay. It’s time to get up anyway.”

You understood immediately the reason for your dream. People will die today. You did not approach the top of the wall before Uhtred screamed at you:

You understood immediately the reason for your dream. People will die today. You did not approach the top of the wall before Uhtred screamed at you:

You understood immediately the reason for your dream. People will die today. You did not approach the top of the wall before Uhtred screamed at you:

“Osferth and you, open the door! Finan, come with me!”

Everything was in shambles as you heard the king behind you. You saw Osferth for the first time since last night and tried to avoid his gaze as much as possible as you made your way to the door. 

“Let me do it, go somewhere you’ll be safe,” he said. 

You frowned, taken aback by his words. You had known greetings that where more welcoming during your years as a slave. 

“We are just opening a door. I think I’ll be fine” you answered with as much pettiness as you could. You did not wait to see his reaction simply grabbing one of the doors and hoping he would do the same on the other side. You were now as close to the danes as you could without being outside the walls. You could hear the cries of terror from the women and children and it made you bite your lip hard, so much you could taste blood. You hated this, death and pain. The way men always choose to abuse the one that could not fend for themselves. You had seen first hand, you had been one. 

“They are killing them” you whispered hoping no one could hear. 

“They have women and children my lord”, shouted Osferth. 

“The gates!” screamed Uhtred 

You put yourself in action and opened the gates for the lord and his witch to pass. For a brief moment, your gaze met the one of the blond woman, and you thought you could see the hint of a smile on her face. You watched half hidden behind a guard as the lord negotiated with the dane called Blood hair. His energy, his aura, was as poisoned as Uthred’s. His curse, though, seemed to run deeper. It was now one with his bones, his blood, his very soul. When Uhtred punched the witch in the stomach and she fell down you cringed. You wanted to turn around and leave, not to have to look at this, but you could not. That was until you saw him. Your blood froze and your stomach turned. You could have thrown up on the spot if it wasn’t for the lack of things in your stomach. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?”,you heard a voice but was unable to distinguish anything. Because in front of you, behind Sigurd, was Gorn. He looked exactly the same as the last time you saw him. Still as tall and terrifying. You could not move but thankfully you were well hidden behind the guard. Him seeing you would probably kill you on the spot. You felt arms shaking you and as if you just had fainted and regained consciousness you emerged from the fog of your own mind. Osferth looked worried and he was holding you close to his tall and lean body. 

“He is here” you simply said, scared to say more. 

He did not seem to understand but kept you close, shielding you from the view of others. 

“It’s okay”, he said, his voice calm and soothing, “no one is going to hurt you”

And for a brief moment, you believed him. You find yourself seated, a very concerned Osferth fussing over you. He had given you water, asked if you wanted something to eat, or if you needed to lie down. You did not need any of these things. You needed to go back home, back to Alba, back to your parents house. The safety and comfort of a known place, this was what you needed. What you wanted though, was probably different. You wanted them dead. All of them. 

“The man behind Blood hair. He was one of the men who kept me-”, your voice cracked. You saw a torrent of emotions cross his face and tears almost started rolling on your cheeks. Someone called for the both of you, but the voice seemed far away. Osferth gently led you inside. Lord Uhtred was speaking with the king, everyone surrounding them. You could not pay attention, so you just stood next to him in a dark corner of the room. You were grabbing his robes hard, trying to peak around his shoulder. The atmosphere was tense, and as you looked around you did not miss the side look of Osferth toward his father. You clenched your hand tighter and he seemed to feel it. He did not look at you but you felt his hand grab yours. Your skin against his had you blushing, but you found comfort in it. Way more than you should have. 

When Finan left, you prayed for him to return safely and to find the mercians easily but when you found yourself on a horse next to Osferth and lord Uhtred, you started to pray for yourself. The adrenaline was pumping in your veins, making you forget about Gorn being somewhere in these woods. You needed to leave and with a bit of help from the gods, you would reach your goal safely. You rode until you reached Fearham. It was empty. No Finan and no army. Osferth looked like he shared your doubts because he immediately said:

“Is this the place lord? Is this Fearham?”

But almost as soon as the words left his mouth you could feel something happening. Finan was here, he was approaching, and the mercians with him. You smiled and looked at Uhtred who seemed to understand. 

“Perhaps Finan did not make the journey.

-He did” you simply answered.

The moment you pronounced those words, Finan emerged from the top of the hill, the soldiers just behind. You did not miss the look of Sihtric and even less the one of Osferth. You did not wait for the fight to start and you made your way up the hill to join a woman with Osferth and Skade. As the sun was slowly appearing from behind you, you all watched the battle unfurl. The danes had the numbers, but the saxons had the advantage of the site. The fight was violent and deadly. Plenty of soldiers died, slayed by the blades of the enemy. Finally it was clear the saxon army had taken the advantage, and it only became clearer when you saw Blood hair, and even Gorn ride away like cowards. 

“Do not yield Blood hair.” you heard Skade say. 

For a second you pitied her but then you just said:

“Seemed like your master has definitely abandoned you this time”

She looked at you and you holded her gaze. 

“We’ll see how that mouth works when Gorn will get you back.

-I’ll slit his throat before it happens.”

She probably saw in your eyes how serious you were, because she did not answer. Osferth was looking at you and you simply nodded at him. The victory was not celebrated for long as you and the rest of Alfred’s men all rode back to Winchester. You wished you could have been happy like the others, but the weird feelings of death you felt during the night did not disappear. You had thought that this dream had been about the hostages, even the battle. The feeling did not leave you, even when you slept a little this night. You were having the same dream, except this time you could hear the screams more distinctly. It was a woman. You woke up sweating and in pain. You could not explain it but you knew something was wrong. You wanted to say something, tell Uhtred that something was going on, but you did not want to spoil the happiness of everyone. You could feel the joy of Uhtred and Sihtric especially, as they were about to return to their wives and children. You kept quiet. Osferth had not said a thing about the events of a few days prior, he offered you polite smiles and when his pretty eyes fell on you, you could feel your heart beat faster. The casual conversations he initiated, just to make you feel less isolated you presumed, were the highlights of those days on the road. You had met a lot of men in your life, some you had loved from fraternal and deep love, and some other you had hated with a passion that could burn. None had ever made you feel like you did now. Which made the distance between you even more painful. You almost regretted having a horse of your own now, missing the feeling of his body. You felt like a lunatic, having thoughts like this about someone you barely knew. You probably were just starving for affection, having forgotten what gentle touches and genuine kindness felt like. You felt selfish for a moment but even that feeling of guilt did not stop the warm feeling in your chest. A question remained though. Once at Winchester, what would you do? You obviously could not leave just yet. You had made a promise to Uhtred that you would find a way to break his curse, but you knew that once in Winchester you won’t be able to do so. You needed nature, and time. Maybe you could sneak out with Finan or Sihtric outside of the walls to perform your ritual. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” said Sihtric, his horse walking next to yours. 

You had not talked much with him but he seemed like a good person. He was a fierce warrior, you had seen it first hand but there was more to him, in his eyes you could see it. 

“I feel like something bad is going to happen. I can’t explain it.”

He looked at you for a moment and said:

“I always had doubts about seers, you know. I grew up amongst danes and I feel guided by the gods every day, but I did not believe for a long time that some people could see things that had happened or were going to happen. Then I lived and saw for myself that, indeed, some people could see things that I could not fathom” he marked a pause and directed his gaze in front of you.

“You knew Finan was going to come back with an army, didn’t you? 

-I could feel it, when we were on that hill. Seeing the future, it’s not my specialty. I used to heal people, back at home. That’s what I do best. But I have been having dreams. Of someone dying. A woman,I think, that I do not know. I just did not want to ruin everyone's happiness. 

-Are you sure it is that type of dream?”

You wish you could be sure, but the truth is that it could be anything. A reminiscence of your past, of the trauma and pain you had endured. 

“I can’t say with certainty. But-

-But you still think it is. 

-Yes”

He simply nodded at you, words obviously still unsaid. You did not press him to talk more, feeling like he had already said enough. You stayed silent until you reached Winchester and the joyous cries of the crowd. Winchester was bigger than you had expected, and there were way more people you thought there would be. This joy was contagious, as you started to smile despite the uneasy feeling that had made his nest in your heart. You were just behind the king and his son, and this is how you saw the very specific moment where everything went to shred. You saw Uhtred get off his horse, his triumphal look soon whipped away, leaving room for confusion and panic. He walked away to find a blond woman standing, waiting for him. You understood immediately when you saw the young babe in the arms of another one behind them. A cry of death and life. You closed your eyes, trying to contain the tears as your heart settled in that deep pit of sadness. Useless, powerless, that was what you were. You did not miss the reaction of Finan and even more the one of Sihtric. The man looked at you and you met his eyes. You could not decipher his expression but he could see yours clearly. You looked around you, lost, and you met the eyes of Osferth, incomprehension written on his features. Just next to him, it was Skade that was looking at you. She knew too. She had known for a long time, and like you, she had been useless. 

No one said anything, because there was nothing to be said. You did not say anything to Uthred about your dream because what good would it have done?  He needed to grieve, but first he needed to honour his wife. It was Finan that told you that Gisela was a pagan just like you. They still had the nerve to bury her in christian land, which you found insulting. At first you had the intention of staying inside the house and not say a word but it was Uhtred himself that called for you. You followed without a word. There was that same woman that you recognised from earlier. Her name was apparently Hild, and she was an Abbess at Winchester. A close friend of Uhtred, enough so that she had cared for his children since their mother’s death. You had simply nodded at her and walked with them toward the cemetery. You let her ask for her lord’s forgiveness before Finan and Uhtred started digging. You stayed silent, not knowing why exactly you were here. The moment was moving, full of sorrow and regrets. Everything felt heavy, like the air was weighting on you now, trying to put you underground with the other corpses. The body of Gisela was soon put on a pyre, Uhtred ready to light it. 

“Could you-”

His voice cracked but you understood immediately. You came closer, taking the torch from Finan’s hands and you started. The songs of the druidess were famous even all the way down here, so far away from Alba. Even without music, you could feel the energy of nature all around you. They were mourning her too. As your voice elevated in the sky, you closed your eyes, and nodded at Uhtred. You put the torch near the base of the pyre and felt it catch on fire. You did not stop singing. The air was lighter but still full of sadness. But Gisela was going where she was supposed to. Even if she did not believe in the exact same gods you did, she would be welcome there, as their daughter. She would return to nature, to start a new life. Maybe she would even cross the sea all the way to the lands of the immortals. Maybe she will find peace with her ancestors. As you opened your eyes again, to see her remains flying high in the night sky, you thought it was beautiful. She was finally returning to her rightful place after being deprived from it for long enough. You ended the song, your melodious voice resounding all around you. In the language of your ancestors you wished her a good and safe journey, and stepped away. You had not looked around you while you were singing, only watching the dance of the flames, but now you saw how Finan and Abbess Hild’s eyes were on you. Uthred had his head low, but you could see his tears. He looked at you briefly and you simply offered a smile of compassion and understanding. Her soul was safe. 

“The gods will welcome her, she is where she is supposed to be now” 

You were calm, calmer than you had been in a while. Reconnecting with that part of yourself, even in the saddest way possible, was still appreciated. Finan looked like he was on the verge of tears. Even his christian soul had been moved by your song, the song of his people, that was a part of him as well. Abbess Hild looked sad as well. She did not say a thing, but you could see it in her eyes. Gisela had been a friend, and she too, was suffering. It was the noise of Uhtred’s sobs that distracted you. You approached him, your hand taking his. He looked at you, an expression of surprise on his face but he didn’t say a thing. Abbess Hild took his other hand, and Finan put his on Uhtred’s shoulder. And just like this you waited, until the fire was no more, having taken everything from Gisela.

#the last kingdom #osferth x reader #osferth the last kingdom #finan the last kingdom #sihtric #the last kingdom fanfic #reader insert #witch reader #uhtred of bebbanburg #uhtred the last kingdom

[random-thought-depository]

Tangential vagueblogging (about somebody I generally respect, and I don't want to add to the pile-on they're getting), but I'm going to note that I really don't like when people present "predators control the population of prey species and kill off their sickest and weakest individuals" as if this is some kind of favor to the prey species, a merciful euthanasia of beings that are literally better off dead.

It's impossible to know how deer feel about the merits of slowly starving to death vs. being ripped up by wolves, but we can look at human emotions and behavior in comparable situations.

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it." - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein.

I think humans show a strong revealed preference along those lines. Suicide seems to be a minority choice even in the most miserable conditions in the historical record. Take, for instance, slavery in North America circa 1500-1850 or so; pretty awful. Some slaves did commit suicide. But most of them did not. This is just one many examples in the historical record of humans enduring appalling conditions and apparently mostly not choosing suicide (Irish potato famine, Nazi death camps, gulags, classical era Greco-Roman slavery, etc.). This is actually kind of remarkable if you stop taking it for granted. Of course, it makes perfect sense if you think about it in terms of evolutionary theory; for a species intelligent enough to imagine suicide, choosing to live is a selection pressure, potentially a quite powerful one. We're all descended from the people who chose survival, because those who chose death left no descendants. For a species intelligent enough for long-term planning and suicide, an attitude of "my life, though it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it" is an adaptive trait, and it is no surprise that it seems to have approached fixation before the beginning of recorded history.

The predators alive now mostly do not attack humans because they follow mother's wisdom. The conservatism inherent in the mother's wisdom strategy may keep humans safe for a while, but big predators in most of the world have had tens of thousands to millions of years to eat a human (or proto-human), discover we are quite edible, and add us to the mother's wisdom food list that they transmit to their offspring. Why hasn't this happened? Well, what happens to a predator that kills and eats a human? Other humans follow the people-eater back to its den and kill it! The only predators that survived were the ones that did not habitually eat humans, either as a matter of blind luck or because they were smart enough to learn that we're more dangerous than we look. I suspect the saber-tooth cat, the marsupial lion, etc. are not around anymore because they were unable to make this adjustment. Point is, it sure looks like when humans got smart one of the first things they did was give themselves the same circumstances as deer that have no predators to control their numbers!

You'll often find references to early agriculture actually being a step down from hunting and gathering; primitive farmers are not well-nourished, have a lot of diseases, etc.. To me, preindustrial agricultural humans look a lot like those overpopulated deer; there aren't any predators left to control their numbers (a circumstance they arranged for themselves!), so now what caps their population is malnutrition and infectious disease (and the synergy between the two; malnourished animals and humans get sick and die more easily), so they mostly live on the edge of starvation, so they're hungry and sickly and riddled with diseases (and they are a great burden upon the wider ecology). Being an ancient or Medieval peasant sounds miserable in a similar way to how being a deer in an overpopulated park or a city pigeon sounds miserable. And yet, I think most people would agree that ancient Mesopotamia or Medieval Europe would not be improved by adding Blindsight vampires with the crucifix glitch fixed, even if the survivors the vampires don't eat might have better diets and fewer parasites as a result (because the vampires would kill a lot of the people they'd otherwise have to share their food and other resources with).

It's also pretty suggestive that an often repeated theme of human stories is "what if there was something that related to you in the way a wolf relates to a deer?" and the intended and default reaction to that idea is horror. From dragons, vampires, and Grendel to the "xenomorph" from Alien, the human imagination is persistently haunted by the fear that something may target us for predation; even the ostensibly human killers of e.g. slasher horror are in a sense just another kind of predator. Predation is also a favorite metaphor for human exploitation and abuse of other humans; we speak of rapacious rich people and manipulative abusers as "predatory" even though, of course, they (usually) don't literally eat us.

Humans were a prey species once and, gee, it sure looks like we hated it, like it was a trauma that still haunts us hundreds of thousands years later (probably burned into our genes; predator avoidance would have been a selection pressure), and like as soon as we got smart enough one of the first things we did was to give ourselves the circumstances of those overpopulated deer, choosing chronic food insecurity and high disease load as the lesser evil.

How would you feel about your grandma and your disabled son being dragged away and devoured by wolves? How would you feel about somebody who suggested that such predation was a sort of favor to your species?

How would you feel if you were hungry and sick and in pain and had a broken and infected leg and the wolves came for you? I think I would say, "my life, though it may be only an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it!"

Like, my first articulated objection to "predators are actually good for prey species" thinking is "imagine how ghoulish it would be if somebody applied the same logic to humans!"

I'm not an expert on animal behavior, but it seems to me that the behavior of most animals suggests a similar revealed preference. When the wolves come for an injured deer, I would guess the deer will likely try to hobble away. The city pigeons that occasionally walk by my window are likely malnourished and riddled with parasites and some of them have pretty gruesome foot injuries (I remember reading a post about this once), but they continue to go about the business of survival and even reproduction (I occasionally see them doing what I think are courtship behaviors).

And sure, that's dubious reasoning from analogy. Notably, humans are probably pretty unusual in being intelligent enough to imagine suicide (and also having hands and being smart enough to make weapons, which makes suicide much easier), and therefore present humans are probably the product of a very unusually strong selection pressure for wanting to live. Probably most animals lack the cognitive capacity for suicide, even the passive suicide of suicide by starvation or suicide by predator. I wonder if the point where humans became intelligent enough to imagine suicide is marked by a genetic bottleneck... Deer likely don't have the cognitive capacity to imagine their own death, and if they did they might be more at peace with the idea than we are, because they've experienced no selection pressure for conscious avoidance of death qua death; the injured deer likely tries to hobble away from the wolves because of some combination of pre-programmed reflexive instinct and fear of the pain of the bite, or something like that. If you magically gave a deer human intelligence, it might be much more at peace with the reality of its eventual death than we are.

I guess my truest objection to "the wolves are really good for the deer" thinking is that it feels like another manifestation of Just World thinking and therefore deeply conservative - not in the sense of conventional political conservatism, but I think it's a manifestation of a sort of thinking that's one of the wellsprings of political conservatism; I talked about it here. @aksemmi, I'm wondering if maybe you meant something like that.

#this isn't really about #vegetarianism #but #i'm not sure what to tag this #I feel like this post should have a content warning but I'm not sure what #animal behavior #people are complicated #my big ideas #evolution

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

about that guy I met on my European vacation--

OK, don’t get too excited, nothing that crazy or illegal happened. But I learned a few things about myself in the process that I thought I’d share. GET READY BECAUSE SHE A LONG ONE

So here I am on my 35 day European tour of a lifetime, starting in Barcelona and ending in Greece. When I get to Barcelona I have to meet my tour director after driving from the airport because he has the keys to our rooms. I knew he was Greek beforehand in the group chat--I’ve seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding about a million times and also I’ve played Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, and his accent confirms it. “I like your name,” he says when I introduce myself, and it’s from this point onward that I have two missions for this trip. Number one: have an amazing time. Two: avoid this man at all costs, except when necessary for the tour. 

Avoiding him is simply about survival, even if he seems personable and truly wants to get to know all of us on the tour. I know I’m not that interesting a person and he is quite good looking and also really charming. If I’m not careful, I’ll catch feelings. I know me. He’ll just be doing his job and I’ll mistake it for attraction. I’ve lived through this song and dance before. It’s the curse you wear when you’ve grown up in a body that society doesn’t deem as good enough. Even if time has made me what society would call “prettier,” old thoughts of you’re not pretty enough for him are going to linger, lines forged by the likes of my grandmothers and casting directors. I am the funny side character, not the romantic lead. Hell, in college I wasn’t even on the stage. I remained in the backstage area as the helper. The funny side character stays on the sidelines. She provides funny banter, not the romance arc. She has to protect herself. 

Yet there’s a moment after Barcelona before we head to Paris where he ends up having dinner with me and my friend, myself terrified when he plops down at the same restaurant we’ve chosen. I don’t do much of the talking, my friend does, asking him all sorts of questions about his life I wish I could have asked, and some brazen ones in my mind anyway like are you married or attached? he’s not, come to find out. I glean he’s sort of a wayward traveler and content with that, but he admits he’s getting a bit too old for this tour directing thing. He also lets me try his food. It’s a small kindness I wouldn’t have expected from an American man. I feel brave. I tell him I like the way he says my name. 

“That’s what I said,” he says, twinkle in his eye. (No, it’s not. I let it be. I like the way he says it. To Europeans I even begin introducing myself via his pronunciation.)

Time passes without incident. I follow my promises in Paris, London, and Amsterdam. I know my other friend L likes him a lot and says she danced with him in Paris where they connected. It’s probably true, but I don’t know--I also can’t help but feel there’s something in the way he looks at me. A glimmer of something or other that some part of me recognizes, but doesn’t think can be the case. Not for me. I know my place. Then Prague happens. 

A lot of things happen in Prague. The morning of our tour through the city I get an email asking if I’m still interested in joining the company I applied to before my trip. I can’t believe it. I’m in Europe, and when I come back there is now the possibility I won’t have to go back to teaching. The day goes on, a terrible heat wave in the city. He takes the group out to a medieval dinner--sort of an interactive renaissance fair. We’re all as a unit, very drunk and ready for more drinking and dancing. It may be one of the best days of my life. Here I am in Europe, a world away from last year in the deepest pits of my depression and anxiety, drinking beer with an amazing group of travelers who I get to call my friends. We hit one bar, and then another, an Irish pub where he is, of course--he loves his Irish pubs and makes no secret of it. He flits around and some of my friends chit chat with him, but I of course don’t say anything. Of course we want to keep the party going--so we head out to this eighties dance club where he follows. I admit my eye is on him during the night--he helps out one of my friends who gets so drunk she can’t walk. (And he avoids her attempts to hit on him as well) but mostly I dance and I dance and I dance and I drink and I let loose in a way I don’t think I ever have. I feel beautiful. I feel free. And hell, when I see myself in the mirror--I am beautiful. Later, my friend tells me how cute I was drunk. I let loose. She’s right. Everything is perfect, except for the nagging realization I have to pee.

Upon what I call the pee test, wherein you get to see how drunk you are in the bathroom, I am moderate. I can stand but things are a little wobbly. Not the drunkest I’ve been, but pretty drunk. I emerge from the bathroom. There he is. 

He grabs my hand. He doesn’t let go. He stares into my goddamn soul. One of my friends is prattling on about going to another bar, I think, but it’s so loud because “Here Comes the Rain Again” or something is playing. He is insistent I come along too to this other bar with them all, still looking into the depths of my soul and holding my hand. In my drunken, yet still somewhat lucid state, I ask him why on earth he’s standing outside the girl’s bathroom. No answer, but my hand is still in his, and his eyes are still looking into the depths of my goodman soul. I feel really fucking pretty. So pretty, part of me realizes a good looking man is holding my hand. I hold on tighter.

We don’t end up going to another bar, we end up staying, but still holding my hand he takes me away from the girl’s restroom, finally, and eventually a tentative arm is places around me, something I reciprocate until more people crowd around. Shots are bought. We take a shot together before back to the dance floor we go. He dances with me, our backs turned in this shoulder-to-shoulder sort of shimmy, and I am vaguely aware of my ass grinding against his. When it’s over I am horror-stricken. People definitely saw me grind with our hot as hell Grecian tour director. But I’m in it too deep. I want to dance with him again, and I throw out some joke as I shake my hips about how they are going to hurt tomorrow--to which he laughs. It’s at this point another girl notices and literally throws herself on him. I watch with my mouth agape as he fights off her advances, and watch as he eventually untangles himself and leaves. 

I can’t sleep that night. Number one there’s a heat wave and I’m on the top bunk, and two, I’m swimming with thoughts of what the hell just happened. He started it, but why? The funny side character shouldn’t be treated like the romantic lead. The morning comes and the girls in my room mention his behavior from previous cities after noting how the other girl danced on top of him. They mention behavior I haven’t seen, and are concerned about his professionalism and if tour guides should go out dancing with tour groups. “I think I danced with him,” I say. “You did,” my friend replies. I  can’t help but feel judged. 

We move on from Prague in our trip. In Switzerland I decide to accept the new job. I see more glances from him here and there. He watches me get hit on in Venice. Then there’s this one particular look he gives me before we drive to Florence that I can’t shake away. I tell him good morning and the way he replies, you’d think I made his morning. 

Once in Rome I end up crying. We are deep into the trip and I want to talk to my Mom about my new job and also what happened. It’s confusing and I don’t get it and is this lack of professionalism true or something that should bother me? My friend L tells me a rumor he kissed a girl in Barcelona in our group and confessed his life story to her--and she says she doesn’t like him anymore, albeit for different reasons. I never ask. But there’s something ingrained within me that senses shenanigans will happen, even that night after I kiss an Italian boy. 

I’m right. It’s the second night in Rome. I go to a bar with two other friends. Apparently this is his favorite Irish bar in the whole of Europe, and of course he’s there. He plops beside me, deriding my choice in drinking Heineken when I should get an Italian beer. He asks me what I’m going to do when I come back to the states. I joke about ice water. He teases me. I tell him the truth, that I want to talk to my mom about a few things. I think about Prague, but leave that out and tell him about my new job, and how it’s everything I wanted but I’m nervous to leave teaching and also take a decrease in pay, but it’s also exciting because my head will be clearer to write more during the day, and I get a foothold in a career that’s interesting to me. He’s happy for me. 

From there, we talk, and we talk, and we talk and do occasional shots with the others I came with. The night is a blur, I can’t say everything we talked about--movies for one where he’s impressed I know who Laurence Olivier is. (”Of course I do! I’m a Shakespearean!”) and places he’s been to. he loves architecture, and tells me I could pass as Italian, and even Greek. (He’s right, I get mistaken for Greek a lot a little later) I show him a picture of my grandparents, and when my friend next to me starts showing pictures of the various colors she’s dyed her hair, I casually mentioned I stopped dyeing my hair. “Why would you?” he asks, “it’s a pretty color.” Once, he offhandedly mentions he’s self-conscious about his accent. I tell him I like it. Rather bashfully, he thanks me.

He takes a picture of us in the bar and posts it to the group chat. More people arrive. We kind of remain by each other’s side. He buys me a beer separate from the rest of the group. At some point I have to pee. On my way back from peeing I end up smooching another Italian man. He uses too much tongue too quickly for my taste. On my way back, he follows me. You know who sees this whole exchange and is very amused I got hit on, apparently. I think I mention something or other about my therapist telling me to kiss boys in Europe. Then he’s gone--gone without saying goodbye, and I’m a little upset but mostly I’m elated. I talked virtually all night with a man I find attractive, and not once did I run away. My good mood is only spoiled by the fact that I learn when I call home that my grandma was placed in the hospital.

The next day after the Vatican I’m eating with my friend L and a few others, and she casually mentions how he tried to get her to party with him yesterday. Driven by tiredness and also my news from the previous night, I go to my hotel room and cry. I don’t feel like he played me, but more so that I played myself. I’m just the funny side character after all. Why would I think I’m special? We’re going to Greece in the morning, and my body is just so tired I have no desire to go. 

But go we do, and once in Athens I just feel very, very happy. I can’t even really describe why the city makes me so happy. but I feel safe there. I feel like maybe the past life reader I emailed back in April was right, Greece was once my home in a time before. One thing is sure, I am not wasting my time on my tour director anymore. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the trip. 

Except he’s eating lunch the same place me and my friends decide to eat at. We leave him be but he’s as amiable as ever. And then later that night when me and another group of girls decide to go for drinks at a rooftop bar---he tags along. I don’t really speak to him much, other girls in the group dominate the conversation, but I try my best to look wistful and unbothered. He lets me sip from his beer, and when I ask my smoker friend for a cigarette puff  he beats her and gives me a puff of his. He mentions the Irish bar in Rome and how I was there with him. I feel a sort of electricity when he plops by me to smoke and he’s pointed toward me. 

The next day at the Acropolis he gives me this sort of playful, dreamy look I don’t see him give anyone else, and I ask if he thinks I look silly in my hat. “Yes,” he says, and I laugh. Another dreamy look in Paros when we’re by ourselves by the sea for the briefest moment. He looks at me like I’m a revelation. It makes me laugh. It makes me feel like the romantic lead. One last wistful look the next morning before we return to Athens when he tells me “good morning.” Again, I feel a sort of revelation. My friend tells me later there’s a rumor he slept with a girl in our group. I kind of don’t care.

At our last dinner in Athens before we all must leave, I give him his tip. We embrace, we take a photo. He wants me to send it to him. I do, and he gives it a little heart. He comes out dancing with the group, one last time. I don’t see him for a bit, but when he bumps into me in the club he asks me where my drink is. I ask him if he’s going to buy me one to replace it. He teases me before agreeing, and then more people crowd around and suddenly we’re taking shots. It’s at this point I see the rumored girl he slept with in our group cuddle up near him, to which he doesn’t reciprocate. I give a certain look of disgust, one he mirrors. “What happened to the Irish bar?” he asks me. I am possessed. I put my hand on his cheek and I tell him I’ll always remember it. He will too, he says. That’s his favorite in all of Europe. 

I remember that souvenir I bought in Athens a few days ago, my name on a necklace in Greek. He’s supposed to give it me at some point, and when I ask he says he’ll just keep it if he forgets. YOU’RE GOING TO KEEP A NECKLACE WITH MY NAME? I ask, and he just looks sheepishly at me. I know I have to leave soon, so I say my goodbyes. “If I don’t see you, when I leave in the taxi to the airport,” I tell him, “I will kill you.” And then I embrace him again. I kiss his cheek. 

Such a simple thing, a kiss. I always thought I would have to be deliberate about it, because I imagined kissing his cheek in parting before. I wasn’t so. I was possessed, automatic. When he kisses me back on my cheek, an immediate response, it feels like an I see you, you were beautiful, I enjoyed my time with you. It feels romantic. 

So we part a few hours later with an embrace--nothing too crazy. But when I’m home, I message him because he asked us to let him know when we’re home safe. I thank him in Greek, and thank him for everything. I tell him I’m glad I stopped waiting around for someone and did what I always wanted to do. He thanks me. Am I going to leave it there? He lives in Greece, I live here. He told me he wouldn’t live in the US. Fuck, I’d move to Europe for true love, though the chance of him being it for me are very, very slim. I do know he said he’d mention if he was in the US, and asked me to mention if I was in Europe. Of course I’ll go back to Europe. I’ll always return. And I may need to message him. Some of my stories take place partly in Greece. I need research help.

In my therapist’s chair upon my return, she tells me who cares if the rumor about him sleeping with someone is true or not, I know what happened between him and I. He’s a tour director and he probably lied when he said he would never do something like that in Athens. At the end of the day, he’s European, and Europeans have different sensibilities. Good for me for kissing him, and after all, it’s not really about him. It’s about how I felt confident, I felt beautiful, and I held a man’s attention. She’s right of course. She’s always right. This story isn’t about a romance, it’s about the funny side character coming into her own, and knowing she can be the lead. It’s about how I got to know this amazing, incredible woman, and now I know I can’t be without her. And, my therapist says, it’s time for me to write my book. 

I used to be sad I didn’t have a partner, how I would look at pictures of my cousin’s family and be jealous. But I see them now, and I see how beautiful it is, but I also see how that’s not what I want. Not quite yet, I still want to travel. I must, for me. For my soul. For the art that I will make. 

And as for my tour director, I waffle back and forth now that I’m home. I know I can live without him. I’m ready for the man I will marry, but I also don’t want him yet, weirdly enough. There are things I have to do. I learned that in Europe. I learned that with my tour director, talking with him, exchanging heated looks with him he didn’t give anyone else. I was careful to observe that. I admit, there are parts of me that have this knowing that there’s more and I haven’t seen or heard the last of Nikos.  

I guess time will tell. I’m happy either way. I’m still the lead.

#personal #DO NOT REBLOG PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING THAT IS HOLY #FUCK WHY DID I WRITE AND PUBLISH THIS #this is long #warning

[greypetrel]

🙤 Enjoyable Things 🙧Rules: List five things you enjoy and pass it along!

Tagged by @shivunin and @demandthedoodles, thank you very much!! (I am an indecisive ass so limiting myself to five is... a struggle) (also am I the only one that started singing Favourite Things from Sound of Music...?)

Food. I know it will sound stereotypical as an Italian, but eating something I like gives me so much joy. I love eating and quite like cooking, even if I'm lazy. I am a vegetarian with a lactose intolerance, so I end up eating vegan most often, and I'm currently having lots of fun in trying indian recipes which are naturally vegan (or easily so substituting ghee/butter with oil)! This Baingan Bharta recipe by cooking with Manali is something that always gives me so much joy, paired with some jeera pulao!

The sea/going swimming. I don't live close to the sea unfortunately, but I spent quite a lot of time in my youth. I can dive (used to reach 10m with no oxygen back then, now I'm terribly out of shape) and I LOVE snorkeling and seeing the fishes, and when I'll be rich I'll go diving in a cage to see some sharks from up close. All marine life gives me so much joy (the jellyfishes are so pretty! From a distance).

Medieval and Contemporary History. In case you were wondering, I love history and knowing more about it, but I'm very selective when it comes to remember it. The Middle Ages and the first half of the XX century (up until the Moon landing) are my favourite periods. Oh and also Ancient Greece. LOVE Ancient Greece (with all its flaws). I love love LOVE museums. And strolling around Medieval buildings is just!!! AAAAH! The older the better, I LOVE gothic cathedrals, and those old castles! And Oooooh I'm not the biggest graveyard fan but Irish graveyards? I'd be there sketching every day, I visited some when I was there and they were so peaceful. I love trying to read the inscriptions, and they lack the baroque kitsch that I never like. (Ireland is another thing that gives me joy, I wasn't there for enough but every time it was just... Bring me back please)

Sketchbooks. I am a art supplies hoarder, but sketchbooks are the one thing I like the most. I don't go outside without one in my purse, the fact that you have a book to be filled with what you want is just HHHHHHHHHHH so nice, it gives me so much joy. I tend to be a perfectionist, but I'm slowly trying to get rid of it and just... Do it for sketches, who cares if they're ugly.

I love to glimpse of personality in art. For both books and paintings, sculptures, movies, comics... I just love when you look at some form of art and realise the little quirks, what the author didn't like to do, or what they just love. Tolkien going on for two pages to list plants in the Ithilien because he just loved greeneries. Pushkin being overly enthusiastic about feet (Pushkin was the biggest feet fetishist... And you can't hate it for it because the way he uses words...! AAAW.). Michelangelo that was perfect but couldn't bother to paint or sculpt women because he never saw a pair of boobs in his life. It's not highlighting mistakes, it's just... I think it makes authors human, and that much closer to us. What I don't miss about the academic field is this aura of sacrality about classic authors that's... Boring. I just love to spot these little things and remind myself that big ass authors/painter/artists were just humans like you and me, with all their flaws and all the things they didn't really know how to do... but did anyway. You don't need to be perfect if MICHELANGELO can allow mistakes, no?

One more: anything Tolkien. There's just something so soothing about his writing and the way he shapes stories. I know the Silmarillion is heavy but... Consider reading his shorter books. Tree and Leaf is something that always moves me to tears, and please please do yourself a favour and read his children literature. "Roverandom" is a tale he invented for his son Christopher, to soothe him when he lost his favourite toy at the beach. He invented the story of that toy, a dog, to explain to the child that oh no don't worry your toy dog, Rover, was actually a real dog turned into a toy by a wizard, he didn't get lost, he just got home! He loved you very much but he had to return a real dog you see! You helped him find his way back!

... sorry I had to include another, hope you don't mind. :P

And HELLO new followers I'm Arja and when they distributed synthetical abilities I was trying to pet a doggo.

(also doggos gives me so much joy. If the day is grey and a doggo by the street sniffs my hand and lick me or let me pet them, the day is instantly saved.)

Tagging: @salsedine @coloricioso @heniareth @melisusthewee @rowanisawriter @zenstrike @eowyn7023 (hi!) @rosella-writes @scribbledquillz @herearedragons @idolsgf

And YOU!

#personal crap #enjoyable things #raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens 🎶

[harmonyhealinghub]

Unveiling the Spellbinding Origins of Halloween Shaina Tranquilino October 30, 2023

As orange leaves flutter to the ground and jack-o'-lanterns flicker in the night, it's undeniable that Halloween has become a beloved, spine-tingling celebration worldwide. But have you ever wondered about the bewitching origins hiding behind this enchanting holiday? Join us on a captivating journey as we unravel the mysterious history of Halloween.

Ancient Roots: The roots of Halloween can be traced back over 2,000 years to an ancient Celtic festival called Samhain (pronounced sow-in). Celebrated by the Celts in Ireland, Scotland, and parts of Britain, Samhain marked the end of summer and welcomed the harvest season. On October 31st, they believed that the boundary between the living and dead blurred, allowing spirits to roam freely among them.

Trick-or-Treating Takes Shape: During Samhain festivities, people would dress in costumes made from animal hides, attempting to ward off evil spirits or disguise themselves from mischievous entities. They also lit bonfires as a form of protection against malevolent forces—a tradition that still echoes today with our glowing Jack-o'-lanterns.

Christian Influence: In the 9th century A.D., Christianity began spreading throughout Celtic lands. Pope Gregory III designated November 1st as All Saints' Day or All Hallows' Day to honour saints and martyrs who didn't have their own feast day yet. To integrate pagan traditions into Christian practices and discourage Celtic rituals during Samhain, November 1st became known as All Hallows' Eve—the precursor to modern-day Halloween.

Ghostly Evolutions: As time progressed, various customs blended together to shape Halloween into its present form. In Medieval England, "souling" emerged when beggars went door-to-door offering prayers for departed souls in exchange for food or money—a practice that later inspired modern-day trick-or-treating. Similarly, in Scotland and Ireland, "guising" appeared, with people dressing up in costumes to perform songs, poems, or tricks for treats.

The Immigrant Influence: Halloween as we know it today found its way to North America through Irish and Scottish immigrants during the 19th century. In the United States, these traditions merged with Indigenous harvest celebrations and other European customs. The result was a uniquely "American Halloween"—a time of community gatherings, parties, parades, and spooky festivities that captured hearts across the nation.

Modern-Day Celebrations: In recent decades, Halloween has gained immense popularity worldwide. It has evolved into a holiday celebrated by people of all ages—both young and old. Festivities range from creatively carved pumpkins to haunted houses, costume parties to horror movie marathons—all embraced as part of this spirited celebration.

As darkness descends on All Hallows' Eve each year, we're reminded of the fascinating history behind Halloween's enduring magic. From ancient Celtic rituals to religious adaptations and cultural exchanges, this captivating holiday has grown into an enchanting blend of tradition and fun.

So whether you find yourself mesmerized by ghostly tales around a bonfire or joining the chorus of tiny witches and superheroes chanting "trick-or-treat," remember that Halloween is more than just costumes and candy—it's a bewitching journey through time connecting us to centuries-old customs and shared human experiences.

#Halloween #Halloween Origins #Halloween History #Samhain Traditions #Celtic Festivals #Pagan Roots #All Hallows Eve #Ancient Beliefs #Harvest Celebrations #October 31 #October #Spooky season #Happy Halloween #Trick or Treat #jack o lantern #spooky #spooky time #hello october #autumm

[shinsouslightningbug]

Lmao ask and you shall receive 🖋️📚🍲 for you and Shinsou :)

🖋️: Have you tried learning another language because of your f/o? Did you stick to it after the initial idea?

Me: I've learned a few random words in Japanese, but I keep tripping over the pronunciation. Let's see... I know how to say "die", "idiot", "itadakimasu", "fuck", "shit", "bitch", and "I love you".

Shinsou: Why am I not surprised that you learned all the curse words first?

Me: Because you like antagonizing Bakugou, and that guy is LOUD when he's mad... which is all the time. Anyway, I'm kinda slow at languages (my middle school French teacher and my high school Italian teacher can confirm), but I'm working on it, I promise.

Shinsou: You could just download one of those language apps like Duolingo.

Me: I refuse to interact with that homicidal green owl.

Shinsou: ...what?

📚: Are there any folk tales / local legends that you've told your f/o about?

Me: Okay, so I don't really have much in the way of "local legends" unless you count cryptids like Mothman or the Jersey Devil, but I do know I'm some flavor of North European (AKA White As Fuck), so I know a lot about medieval English and Irish legends like King Arthur, Fionn Mac Cumhaill (pronounced "Finn McCool", which I love), Bonny Janet, Robin Hood, etcetera . Oh, and I know a fuck ton of Norse myths.

Shinsou: Nerd.

Me: Your nerd.

*⚡⚡⚡*

Shinsou: I don't actually know many local legends or myths, other than a handful of yokai. Tengus, kitsunes, kappas, tanuki, that kind of thing.

Me: I know one myth about the sun goddess Amaterasu hiding in a cave after her brother Susanoo threw a horse into her weaving hall and getting lured out by a striptease from the dawn goddess Ame-No-Uzume-No-Mikoto, and then one about how Susanoo was exiled and then found the legendary sword Kusanagi No Tsurugi.

Shinsou: Grass-Cutter?

Me: it's a lot more epic than it sounds, trust me.

🍲: Let's talk food! Are there any culturally-unique dishes you've tried making for your f/o? Are there any they've made for you?

Shinsou: I've made chili for Sparky a few times after he's had a bad day at work, since it's his favorite.

Me: He's getting a lot better than when he first tried.

Shinsou: Hey, I hadn't ever heard of chili before you made it for me. Give me a break, kitty.

Me: You forgot the CHILI POWDER. The thing that gives chili it's NAME. You forgot that.

Shinsou: And you've burnt water. What's your point?

Me: For the love of- That was ONE TIME!

*⚡⚡⚡*

Me: I've tried my hand at mochi a few times. I think they turned out pretty good! I've also made yakitori before, since that's basically just putting some chicken on a stick and grilling it.

Shinsou: Not bad for someone who's burnt water before.

Me: IT WAS ONE TIME!

Shinsou: Still not sure how you managed to do that.

Me: Oh, and I've made ramen, but everyone and their mother knows how to make ramen.

Shinsou: Putting a plastic container in the microwave and pushing a few buttons doesn't count as "making ramen".

#ask sparky #ask game #shinspark #Sparky speaks #The burning water thing is a true story #No I don't know how I did it either

[shamandrummer]

Honoring the Ancestors on Samhain

Samhain, or Halloween as it is now called, is a celebration observed in many countries on October 31, the eve of the Western Christian feast of All Saints' Day. It begins the observance of Allhallowtide, the time in the liturgical year dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints (hallows), martyrs, and all the faithful departed. The origins of Halloween customs are typically linked to the Gaelic festival Samhain. Samhain is one of the four cross-quarter days (the midpoint between two seasons) in the medieval Gaelic calendar. Samhain marked the end of the harvest season and beginning of winter or the 'darker half' of the year. It was seen as a liminal (or threshold) time, when the "veil" or boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead is at its thinnest, making it easier to communicate with those who have left this world. It is also the season of divination, using the connection across the thin veil to ask the spirits for answers.

According to Irish mythology, Samhain (like Beltane) was a time when the 'doorways' to the Otherworld opened, allowing supernatural beings and the souls of the dead to come into our world. Samhain was essentially a festival for the dead. Samhain was marked by great gatherings and feasts and was when the ancient burial mounds were open, which were seen as portals to the Otherworld. Some Neolithic passage tombs in Ireland are aligned with the sunrise at the time of Samhain. The souls of dead kin were also thought to revisit their homes seeking hospitality, and a place was set at the table for them during a meal. Mumming and guising were part of the festival from at least the early modern era, whereby people went door-to-door in costume reciting verses in exchange for food.

Honoring and Connecting with the Ancestors

To honor your forebears, create an ancestor altar with a cloth, a candle and photos of those loved ones who have passed, whether that be ancestors of blood or kin. Include memorabilia and other items that you connect with the departed, and light the candle. You can spend some time with each picture and with each item, connecting with those, or name those ancestors whose names you know followed by "may they be remembered." Dedicate a round of drumming to your ancestors and their memory. When you have finished, put out the candle. You may want to leave the altar in place for the rest of Samhain, or until it feels right to take it down.

You can connect with your benevolent ancestors by taking a shamanic journey to the Lower World -- the realm to which departed souls travel upon physical death. The desire to communicate with our ancestors is an innate part of the human experience. Benevolent ancestral spirits can guide, protect and heal the living. Your ancestors and the collective spiritual power of all those who went before you reside in the Lower World. When your own time comes to pass on, you will become part of this vast collective unconscious. If you embark on a journey with the intention of connecting with those who have passed, they may come to meet you. Keep in mind that spirits choose to come into relationship with the person seeking. You can seek ancestral spirits, but the spirits must choose. Have a happy and soulful Samhain!

#shamanism #shamanic journey #samhain #all hallows eve #ancestors #shamanic drumming #ceremony #ritual #divination

[thejoyofseax]

Steel-Cut Oats

What I think of as "ordinary" porridge is made with rolled oats. However, there are also steel-cut oats (aka pinhead oats, or "Irish oats"). Steel-cut oats are the groat (the oat grain without the kernel) chopped into a few small bits. I bought a pack of them in order to try them out; they almost certainly represent a more period-accurate form of oat porridge.

They have a much longer cooking time than rolled oats (which are steamed, and thereby part-cooked); 8-10 times as long. As such, they're far more likely to burn at the bottom in a moment of inattention. Ask me how I realised this, go on.

So far, I've only made this form of porridge once, and used milk as the liquid. For completeness, I'll also try water and buttermilk. I have to say I'm not as keen on this form, so far, but I suspect that some of that is that my ASD brain has settled on rolled-oats-buttermilk-and-raspberries as the "correct" porridge, and everything else hereafter is going to be wrong unless it's distinct enough to come across as a different dish.

It does resemble the US grits a lot more than rolled oats ever do, though, and I'm given to wonder if there's a rolled corn equivalent.

Thinking about the process of preparing oats to make into porridge, I'm guessing that the actual early Irish preparation is running oat berries (maybe groats) through a quern once or twice. That would, I think, result in a variety of sizes of oat pieces; some quite large and very like this modern form, and others smaller, down to what would essentially be oat flour particles, if the quern caught it just the right way. So the cooked porridge would likely be a bit less homogenous than this, but quite possibly in a pleasing way. That'll be an experiment for a future point, when I have access to some sort of grinder. Or indeed, an actual quern.

Standard (Rolled Oats) Oatmeal Porridge

Back to The Irish Porridge Project

#the porridge project #medieval food #irish medieval food #pre norman irish food #steel cut oats #irish food #flahavans

[foreheadlicker69]

I was just on the welcome home site and I need to get this out

So just like with Coraline and DHMIS, symbolism is a HUGE deal when it comes to WH. For example; Wally's little pose ⬇️

means "As Above, So Below" which has been paraphrased from its original English translation; "That which is above is like to that which is below, and which is below is like to that which is above." (It's a quote from the Emerald Tablet in case anyone is interested) You might recognise the quote from the movie of the same name, or the pose from Jack's picture at the end of The Shining.

Basically, it means that the two planes of existence present within the WH ARG correspond with each other.

Other common symbolisms include:

Apples - beauty, sweetness and the hope for prosperity, strength, growth, death, immortality, temptation, knowledge, rebirth.

"In Celtic tradition, apples were buried at Samhain as food for those souls who are waiting to be reborn." - Some dodgy website so take it with a grain of salt.

Not to mention how apples were also associated with the Underworld in Greek mythology.

Butterflies - Transformation, growth, renewal, rebirth, bravery, hope, positive change, freedom. ("Black butterflies are associated with sickness in many Native American cultures")

"Celtic mythology regards butterflies as a symbol of the soul. There's an old Irish saying that goes "Butterflies are souls of the dead waiting to pass through Purgatory." They're thought to be able to cross into other realms and also represent transformation, creation, and rebirth." - The exact same website.

Feathers - I'm getting lazy

Spirals - Spiritual development and our identity with the universe. Came from the idea of a "stairway" to heaven. In the occult system and esoterica, the single spiral is representative of the way to the higher level of consciousness. It represents the pattern of growth and the utilizer of nature’s life-inducing, life-protecting, and life-supporting energy. (aka my favourite symbol ever)

Hearts - The heart icon becomes a major symbol for medieval heraldry, where it is used to signify sincerity and clarity. In art and chivalric literature, the heart is increasingly seen as synonymous to the Holy Grail. In fact, early decks of playing cards even use the Grail instead of the heart symbol as an icon. The heart symbol is assiociated with religious and spiritual symbolism as well as the profane and sexual, or even with evil.

Have you ever heard the phrase "Home is where the heart is"?

Stars - Positivity, happiness, renewal, and in the context of certain industries they symbolize excellence, professionalism, quality, and imagination.

Eyes - Good or evil. Focus, truth, clarity, light, vision, prophecy, awareness, observation. The spiritual eyes is a reflection of the cosmic energy entering the body and sustaining it.

Circles - Totality, wholeness, original perfection, the Self, the infinite, eternity, timelessness, all cyclic movement, god.

That's the gist of it

Also I made this list a while ago and I really don't feel like going in and altering everything

so I'm not going to. Sorry.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home wally #welcome home website #frank welcome home #wally welcome home #barnaby welcome home #sally welcome home #welcome home howdy #julie welcome home #poppy welcome home #eddie welcome home #symbolism

[randomisocahedron]

Theory: the Shire is idyllic because of potatoes

Middle-Earth generally has a medieval level of technology, but potatoes were only introduced to Europe in the mid-to-late 1500s.

If you're a peasant, potatoes are bloody amazing. They're rich in nutrients, relatively easy to farm, and fairly robust. Irish farmers were able to sustain their families on a small potato plot, and hunger was not a big concern.

Until it was, of course. But the potato famine was only really a disaster because of British exploitation of the crisis and the absentee landlord system. Food could have been shipped in, but the British government prevented Ireland from importing food for political reasons.

Now, canonically one of the most important traits of hobbits is their lack of ambition. A hobbit is truly happy with a warm fire, a warm meal, and a warm community. The Shire clearly has some sort of socioeconomic hierarchy, but it doesn't seem very exploitative. There are no poor hobbits; some are simply less well-off than others.

And it all comes down to the potato. Men and Elves grow wheat, but Hobbits grow potatoes. If Men or Elves were to gain access to potatoes, they would do what the British did and use them to squeeze their peasants harder. Instead of using the increased productivity granted by potatoes to increase their wealth and power, Hobbits use the potato to increase their leisure time.

That's why the Shire seems so upper-class: even the farmers get a fairly good share of the resources. The Bagginses are among the wealthiest hobbits, but they aren't aristocratic: their wealth is limited to having a nice house and doing little work. Hobbits are able to live together, to sing together, and even the poorest hobbits can afford to eat a good seven meals a day... and all because of potatoes.

#fan theory #lotr #the hobbit #hobbits #bag end #the shire #potatoes #boil em mash em stick em in a stew

[miz-chase]

Rizzles Knight/lady medieval au scratch

Duke and Dutchess Isles are not especially well-loved. They gained the port keep of Botwulftun through force, chasing the Dubhghall clan into hiding. Childless themselves, they took the clan heir as their own. Marian Isles, once Maura Dubhghall, was raised in a sheltered, though well-read life.

Roughly siting this on the borderlands of the English Pale in Ireland, Giovanna Rizzoli has little stake in either side. She is good with any weapon you can name, by foot or by horseback, and she is glad to take a job that pays. Someone has to feed their family, given their merchant ship was long gone, dashed on the rocks of the Irish Sea.

She’s skilled enough she works her way up in the Isles household, discreet enough the Dutchess trusts her with the young heir, and pious enough to take serious her oaths before God. She swore she would protect this Lady Isles, and by God, she would keep her promises.

When you’re a mercenary, you know all kinds of people and hear all kinds of things. It’s a necessary part of the job. She had long heard murmurings that the lady was really Dubhghall’s, though it had never been more than a murmur. Not her business, not relevant to the job of keeping the lady safe.

However, when she heard an uprising was brewing, that did become her business.

Of course her brothers got involved in the fight. When someone else was putting food on the table, they were free to chase their ideas and passions. It had been a brutal winter, the people were hungry, but the Duke and his English court never lacked for food. When your children are hungry while the Duke puts on lavish feasts, well. It was the kind of thing that made people hungry for more than just food.

Giovanna’s brothers and the people they ran with saw her as a great asset, an inside woman to let them attack from the inside. She herself could easily throw the Lady Isles to the crowd. It was a perfect plan.

Only, Giovanna had made an oath before God. And of course she detested the woman, with her jewels and gowns and beautiful golden hair. Who smiled at her, read aloud to her from her endless books, who pouted so prettily when caught trying to sneak into the city. Giovanna should have been glad to turn her pampered English behind over to justice.

So she did help, she did. She helped the rebels sneak into the keep, drew them maps to get around, showed them the servants passages that would get them where they needed to go. But when the fight began, Giovanna was nowhere to be found.

Instead, immediately regretting her choices, she found herself half-dragging a particularly stubborn fancy lady out the servants’ kitchen garden, cursing at her to keep quiet and stop fussing.

She swore before God she’d keep this cursed, spoiled woman safe, and by God’s grace she would. She just hoped she’d survive the ordeal long enough to earn her reward from the Tiarna-in-hiding Patrick Dubhghall

Fill this void here with bickering, Jane putting her life in danger for Maura without a thought, soft wound tending, bedroll sharing, dramatic Doyle family reveals, Rizzoli family infighting, conflicts of loyalties, and smoochin

But Giovanna made her oaths to protect Marian Isles, not Maura Dubhghall. When she delivers Maura to safety with her father, more than one person protests when she wants to go back to Botwulfston to help her brothers. Jane sneaks out in the night, but she forgets Maura is even more stubborn than she is. Turns out Giovanna’s ‘spoiled princess’ learned fast than she realized and she chases after Jane

#rizzles #i am cringe but i am free

[covenawhite66]

Tuatha de Dannon of the Celtic Pantheon

Celts were a nation of loosely confederated tribes who originated in central Europe and spread westward as far as Spain and the British Isles, the latter of which being the place where the Celtic legacy of language and culture best survives today. The pantheon of Celtic gods was made up of more than 400 different gods and goddesses representing all aspects of day-to-day life. Ancient Roman sources, early Christian writers, and stories that survived into medieval Irish mythology.

However, it's hard to know much about most of these gods, with many of them only surviving as single references in inscriptions.

THE DAGDA, CHIEF OF THE TUATHA DE DANANN

One of the chief gods of the Celtic pantheon was the Dagda, whose name means "the good god." As the World History Encyclopedia explains, this epithet likely refers to his wide variety of skills, which included being a talented craftsman, mighty warrior, powerful magician, and wise ruler. He owns cauldron that always had enough food in it to feed whatever party sat down by it; a tree that was never empty of fruit; a magic harp that can cause those hearing it to fall asleep, laugh, or weep; two magic pigs, one ever alive and one forever cooking; and a magic club so heavy it had to be carried on wheels, that could kill nine men with one blow and also raise the dead.

THE MORRIGAN, BLOODY GODDESS OF WAR

Her role as the representation of the bloodthirsty nature of war, and she is typically described in a manner befitting that role. Like war itself, the Morrigan is said to be both terrible and alluring, terrifying and tempting. She has a frightening aspect that she can use to inflict terror on her enemies during battle, but she is also supposed to be sexually provocative, as seen in her annual duties ringing in the new year by getting rutty with the Dagda. She can change shape at will, becoming a beautiful young woman, the wind, or a wide variety of animals or birds, though her most common shape is the crow, a carrion-eating bird that many northern Europeans associated with war and death.

LUGH OF THE LONG ARM

That said, using ancient Roman sources, early Christian writers, and stories that survived into medieval Irish mythology, we can get a pretty decent idea of who the key figures of the Celtic religion were. Here are some of the most important gods, goddesses, and heroes of the ancient Celts.

BRIGID, THE CELTIC ATHENA

Brigid was the daughter of the chief god, the Dagda, and her remit included crafts, prophecy, divination, and poetry. Her role as the patron of the art of metalwork and smithing led her to be associated with fire as well. As History points out, Brigid's powers of healing and wisdom.

DANU AND THE DIVINE MATRIARCHS

The unknown Mother Goddess

AENGUS, GOD OF YOUTH

The god of youth, love, and poetry. As Mythopedia explains, he was the son of the Dagda and the river goddess Boann.Aengus' role as god of poetry and inspiration gave him a way with words that often allowed him to get the better of his elders, and his position as the god of youth gave him some control over life and death, including the ability to resurrect the dead with the breath of life.

CERNUNNOS, THE HORNED GOD

Cernunnos, an antlered god whose name means, appropriately enough, "the Horned One."

CU CHULAINN, HOUND OF ULSTER

A mighty warrior and the son of the god Lugh. The name Cu Chulainn means "hound of Culann,"

He was known for his great strength, agility, and supernatural rage, as well as his magical spear that can inflict 30 wounds on a person with a single strike. Additionally, he was notable for being beardless and for having seven fingers on each hand, seven toes on each foot, and seven pupils in each eye.

MEDB, WARRIOR QUEEN OF CONNACHT

Medb was the daughter of Eochu Feidlech, the High King of Ireland, and she was beautiful, demanding, and fantastically strong. She had numerous suitors, lovers, and husbands, from whom she demanded that they never act afraid, mean, or jealous toward her, which might be a natural response from them as she was stronger, both mentally and physically, than any man who approached her. When she heard a prophecy that her hated first husband would be killed by someone named Maine, she changed the names of all of her sons to Maine, just to increase her chances of revenge.

EPONA, MOTHER OF HORSES

Epona was invoked and worshiped as the protectress of horses and other equine animals, such as mules and donkeys. Horses were extremely important to the Celtic way of life, especially among the Gallic cavalries,

BELENUS, THE SHINING ONE

There are about 31 surviving inscriptions to Belenus, which is an unusually high number for most Celtic deities. The locations of these inscriptions show that Belenus was worshiped in northern Italy, the eastern Alps, southern Gaul, and probably even up into Britain. He was a pastoral god associated with healing.

The May 1 festival of Beltane, was probably originally connected with the worship of Belenus. On Beltane, all the cattle would be purified by protective bonfires before being put out for pasture for the summer. The shining god Belenus would help oversee this.

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