#chipolata

[sandwichtribunal]

But I'm a Crepe, I'm a Wiener

"The buckwheat crepe was soft and flexible but pulled apart easily. This galette became almost an equal partner in the flavor, and its earthy, nutty flavors complemented the sweetly savory sausage well." But I'm a Crepe, I'm a Wiener

Sausages enveloped in some kind of flatbread–baked inside a pastry shell or a bread roll, wrapped in pancakes, steamed in a yeasted dough or simply dipped in some kind of batter and fried–are somewhat universal. Sausage rolls featuring seasoned minced meat wrapped in pastry and baked are popular throughout the British Commonwealth, Ireland, Africa. Countries all over Europe have similar…

[diyshelf]

Recept voor Gnocchi uit de oven met chipolata, wittekool en champignons | Colruyt Lekker Koken

https://www.colruyt.be/nl/lekker-koken/recept/gnocchi-uit-de-oven-met-chipolata-wittekool-en-champignons

Ingredients (4 people):

2 kippen chipolataworstjes

0,5 witte kool

250 g champignons

500 g gnocchi

2,5 dl lichte room 7 % V.G.

75 g geraspte kaas

2 el pesto siciliano

1 el olijfolie

0,5 blokje groentebouillon

2,5 dl water

zwarte peper

[period-dramallama]

"Do you use AI" my brother in christ i BARELY trust my fellow human beings with my favourite historical figures. WHY would I give them to a MACHINE?

[ephemeriee]

did not fully engage brain when food shopping and now have to use the oven in my already very hot flat

[doxiedreg]

Will hopefully jump back into the fight tomorrow

After a good meal i do feel my strength returning and my want to do art to climb again

But its now 11 pm so I should go to sleep and not draw ogciyfiyc

Might sketch some doodles in my sketchbook to ward of the brain bees

Also I might have forgotten to take my evening meds I should check that

But yeah after 2 break days, I hopefully should be back in business tomorrow

Though let's hope I don't go too hard and overwork myself again

Also lets hope I'll catch some proper sleep, I've been sleeping real poorly lately

Alright that's all for my update byeeee

[beatlepaul4ever]

Personally, I don’t think the girls are tickling or poking him (he might wish they were), I think it’s the cold water splashing on his gonads that is making him squeal!

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[sugaldean]

Cloudward, ho is amazing, but i also just learned that Chipotle isn't a kind of sausage like i always thought but the name of a pepper.

You can imagine how confused i was when Siobhan said "we grow them on the roof".

Basically in french we have chipolatas and probably ten years ago i saw "Chipotle" and thought it was the same thing.

Yes it does also mean i thought the restaurant Chipotle was a sausage/barbecue restaurant up until 5 min ago

[coe-olivier]

PART VI I'm back with this serie! Someone missed it?

XVII. The Mansions of the Gods - Anglaigus I always loved his simple, but nice design and character ofc! Yellow tunic with orange/white accents . Pretty unique hairstyle tho! They make him so scrawny! He's charming young man and he looks cute when he was appreciated by Caesar... when he's smiling in general 🤍🌿

XVIII. Asterix and the Laurel Wreath - Centurion I have no reasonable explanation for this, I'm sorry... I don't have anything in my defence

XIX. Asterix in Corsica - Chipolata SHE IS GORGEOUS! WOMAN OF A DREAM 🤍🤍🤍

XX. Obelix and Co. - Centurion Ignoramus PHAHAHAH He looks like a dad on holiday with his family, who always force him to take recreational activities with them, but he would rather just lie around and drink beer by the hotel pool. I can understand him in 100% HAHAH

Sorry, I had to skip a couple of comic because I couldn't find any character in them that could be attractive or had a pleasing design for me :((

[aaaaaa-musical-trash]

things my mum said during my dead boy detectives rewatch

- (about edwin) “he is 500% gay”

-“*points at edwin’s face when he hugs charles at the end of ep 5* see that? that is gay anguish. look at the parted lips”

-(about maxine) “oh god did she slip on the chipolatas”

[tsarisfanfiction]

Toad In The Hole

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Jerry, Apollo Jerry's mum was a baker. Jerry was not. He was a pretty good cook, though. @toapril-official TOApril day 9 - Feast For the Gods. If Rick is going to give me a British kid, I am gonna roll with it and love every second of it

Jerry’s mum was a baker.  He’d grown up on all sorts of cakes and pastry-related treats, although his own attempts at recreating her masterpieces had always fallen short.  He had fond memories of sitting in the kitchen, sometimes on a stool and sometimes on the counter, kicking his feet excitedly as he licked fingers and spoons clean, and sometimes an entire bowl if he got to it before his mum did.

The cakes he’d ‘helped’ to bake, as a kid, definitely weren’t as good to eat as the ones his mum had baked without his interference, but it had been fun.

Jerry was very much not a baker.  Maybe it was dyslexia making the numbers and measurements seem like a foreign language, maybe it was the ADHD making him too jittery, more interested in eating the batter out of the bowl than waiting for it to finish, but his attempts always came out a little wonky, over-baked or under-baked and half the time chewy when they weren’t supposed to be.

Part of him didn’t want to be good at baking, anyway.  That was his mum’s thing and the idea of being able to do cakes as well as her just felt wrong.

None of that meant that Jerry wasn’t decent in the kitchen the rest of the time, though.  Pancakes might be a risk, coming out too thick and rubbery or too thin and seared to taste of anything except burnt, but somehow the batter for toad in the hole was easy.

He had the chipolatas sizzling away in the oven already, dumped in a splash of oil and decorated with crisp rosemary he could smell even through the closed door.  It was almost distracting, because it smelt good, but Jerry reminded himself that it wasn’t cooked yet, and food poisoning sucked, and that was good enough to keep his hands away from the oven gloves and instead busy whisking together the concoction of flour, eggs, and a slow trickle of milk as the uncooked batter began to form.

Cooking was fun to do, when he had the time for it.  Adult life wasn’t the kindest at giving time for proper cooking, not when he had practice and training and coaching and then more practice again, interspersed with matches and travelling for matches – and if Jerry had his way, made it to his dream – he’d have even less time.

At the moment, he only played for local leagues, travelling up and down England but not leaving it.  If (when, he knew he was being scouted) he made the national team, he’d be spending weeks at a time in other countries.  The odd trip back to the States, perhaps.  Near-constant journeys out to Australia, the West Indies, and Pakistan.

It would be amazing, but cooking would become a rarer and rarer pastime, which was a little bit of a shame.  There was something satisfying about eating something he’d made from scratch himself.

There was something even more satisfying about sharing that food with other people, other loved ones, and that was one of the reasons he was mixing milk into a flour-and-egg mix while skinny sausages started to brown in his oven right then, even though he’d had a long day of training and was pretty tired.

He had a visitor, and no amount of tired muscles and inclinations to shove something in the microwave for two minutes and call it a meal was going to stop him from giving them proper, home-made food.

Apollo was hovering in the doorway, watching.  He’d offered to help, offered to do it for him, but Jerry had shot all of those suggestions down.  He wasn’t a young kid reliant on adults, or immortals, for survival anymore.  He was an adult, and if he wanted to pay his dad back for his help over the years by cooking him a meal, then that was what he was going to do.  Besides, his mum would have his head if she heard whispers of him letting a guest help with the cooking.  Even if said guest was his father.

Browned sausages left the oven, fat sizzling in the heat, and Jerry carefully – because hot oil and fat hurt if it got on skin – poured in the batter mix over the top, listening to the hissing and spitting as cool liquid met scorching.

Then the whole thing went back in the oven, and he tugged off the oven gloves, tossing them carelessly on the side where they could stay until it was time to take the finished food out again, before turning to face his dad.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” Apollo pushed.  Jerry reached out for the tomato-shaped timer that lived on top of the fridge and twisted it until it was set for half an hour.  Roughly.  That was one of the joys of cooking, rather than baking; things didn’t have to be exact.  As long as it was cooked enough to not be raw and threatening food poisoning, and not so long it became a lump of charcoal, it was pretty forgiving.

Much more Jerry’s speed.

“Nope,” he said sunnily.  “It’s all under control.”  To his credit, if Apollo didn’t believe him, there wasn’t a single sign of it on his face.  Then again, Apollo made a point of listening to his kids, so Jerry was confident that Apollo did, in fact, believe him.

He pulled a stool out from the counter that doubled as his dining table, because tiny studio flats in the middle of London didn’t have space for actual dining rooms, and gestured towards it before dragging out the second stool and sitting on it himself.  Apollo wasn’t slow to accept the invitation.

Jerry had had a few dreams recently, ones he wanted to run past his dad to check he was aware of them, or at least to get his opinion on what they might be, and the conversation ran long and deep.  He was rudely interrupted from discussing the possible significances of croaking crows over a graveyard filled with living people – that dream had been particularly disturbing, and Jerry was mostly desensitised towards death-based imagery thanks to his brother-in-law which just made it worse when it still creeped him out – by the hoarse and throaty trill of the tomato as its timer ran down to zero.

That thing was easily loud enough to wake the dead, that was for sure.  Jerry grabbed it with the same extreme prejudice he always did – even though it was his favourite timer for that exact reason; there was no missing it and accidentally leaving food to burn in the oven when it trilled like that – and yanked it all the way to its stop, silencing it, before tugging on oven gloves and pulling out the casserole dish.

The toad in the hole looked perfect, which was a relief as much as Jerry had already known it would come out just fine, and not even because Apollo wouldn’t let it go wrong if he had any say in the matter.

Two slightly chipped plates were fished out from the cupboard above the sink and promptly found themselves laden with half the food apiece.  Ten seconds of rummaging around the cutlery drawer had knives and forks located and placed on the plates, too, before they landed on the counter-come-dining-table.

“Dinner time,” he said, a little unnecessarily given Apollo was right there and it was only the two of them.  His dad smiled at him.

“It looks delicious,” he said, and he was right because it did, Jerry was pleased with how it had turned out.  “Thank you.”

[dufferpuffer]

~~ Looking at Lycanthropy ~~

Part 5: Wolfsbane vs Wolf - Theories of Treatments

Looking at Lycanthropy (all parts)

Words: Approx. 4000

Potion Information Other Treatments

PRISONER OF AZKABAN

Chapter 8

pg 117 The door opened, and in came Snape. He was carrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing. … … 'Fascinating,' said Snape, without looking at it. 'You should drink that directly, Lupin.'

- Wolfsbane is taken a goblet-full a day. - It should be taken directly, in one sitting. - It smokes faintly.

pg 118 'I made an entire cauldronful,' Snape continued. 'If you need more.' 'I should probably take some again tomorrow. Thanks very much, Severus.'

- Wolfsbane is made by the cauldronful. Since he is letting him know there is more – is this the first potion of the week...? - The same cauldronful can be kept for more than one days use.

'I have never been much of a potion-brewer and this one is particularly complex.' He picked up the goblet and sniffed it. 'Pity sugar makes it useless,' he added, taking a sip and shuddering. … … 'I've been feeling a bit off-colour,' he said. 'This potion is the only thing that helps. I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making it.'- Wolfsbane is a complex potion. Not many wizards are up to making it.

- Sugar makes it useless. - It tastes awful. Love that either it has a flavor that might be palatable with some sugar – or Remus just wants to drown it in sweetness because he's that sort of guy.

Lupin drained the goblet and pulled a face.'Disgusting,' he said. 'Well, Harry, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you at the feast later.' … … The empty goblet was still smoking.

- Even empty – or with just drops left – it still smokes. Very smokey brew. Big vapours from this icky boy. Is it 'smoke', actually? Could very well just be a word to describe how it looks, when it is something entirely different. Harry should know the difference being a third year Potions student, but it could just be slang. - Gross enough to pull faces, even after taking it repeatedly. - Remus and Harry were having a chat – and as soon as the potion is done, he sends him away for the rest of the day... is it possible that it'll have side effects? Make him feel ill? Or does he want to catch up on all the 'disorganised', 'late' work Snape says exists? Chapter 11

pg 170 'I doubt,' said Dumbledore, in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which put an end to Professor McGonagall and Professor Trelawney's conversation, 'that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?' 'Yes, Headmaster,' said Snape. 'Good,' said Dumbledore. 'Then he should be up and about in no time ... Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent.' The first year boy went furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and took the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

- Wolfsbane improves recovery time post-Full Moon. (Love that's the reaction regular students have to being spoken to by Albus. They never see him outside of feasts, he doesn't go to Quidditch games, just paces his office. Same, dude – nice to the kids but avoid them 99% of the time lol)

Chapter 18

pg 258 'I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The Potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform... I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.''Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month.It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.'

- Wolfsbane was invented in the last 15 years – or even more recent. - It 'makes him safe': 'keeps his mind' when he transforms, 'harmless', curls up in his office... but still transforms, still waits for the moon to wane. Without he is a 'fully fledged monster'. - Needs to take the potion 'the week' preceding the Full Moon. As in every day for a week. - There were 'other things' his parents tried – none successful.

pg 259 'My transformations in those days were - were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits.'

Just reminding that this is the experience of untreated Lycanthropy.

'And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.'

I mentioned this before, but 'best times of his life'. He went from screaming so loud the village thought he was a pack of ghosts, biting and scratching himself, feeling 'terrible'... to them being his happiest memories.

pg 260 'They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals,' said Lupin. 'A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. ... Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.'

We know some of that is bullshit. He is a danger to animals as well. But James, Sirius and Peter weren't animals, really: They were people. Just like Remus is a person. They could look and smell like Beasts, but act and think like Beings. Inbetween. Just like him. His mind was less wolfish – 'he keeps his mind under their influence', just like he describes the effects of Wolfsbane. Chapter 19

pg 263 'I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your Potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along.'

I went through this more in Part 3, what I think was happening to make Snape comfortable enough visit Lupins office after dark to serve him his potion but not bring it into the Shack. But for now I just wanna note that it wasn't too late to drink his potion as the sun set.

~~~ HALF BLOOD PRINCE

Chapter 29

pg 517 Harry looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw an unrecognizable face lying on Bill’s pillow, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment. Harry remembered how Snape had mended Malfoy’s Sectumsempra wounds so easily with his wand. “Can’t you fix them with a charm or something?” he asked the matron. “No charm will work on these,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I’ve tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.”… … “No, I don’t think that Bill will be a true werewolf,” said Lupin, “but that does not mean that there won’t be some contamination. Those are cursed wounds. They are unlikely ever to heal fully, and — and Bill might have some wolfish characteristics from now on.”

- Fresh bites are treated – dabbed at – with some sort of 'harsh-smelling green ointment'. - No charms work on werewolf bites. - Werewolf bites are 'cursed wounds'. - Werewolf bites are unlikely to ever heal fully.

pg 524 Mrs. Weasley took the nasty-smelling ointment from Madam Pomfrey and began dabbing at Bill’s wounds.

- Ointment is nasty-smelling as well as harsh.

~~~ DEATHLY HALLOWS

Chapter 4

pg 66 “Will George be okay?” All Lupin’s frustration with Harry seemed to drain away at the question. “I think so, although there’s no chance of replacing his ear, not when it’s been cursed off –”

A different curse, yes – but another example of a cursed wound being difficult to heal.

pg 68 Mrs. Weasley looked around and said, “I can’t make it grow back, not when it’s been removed by Dark Magic. But it could have been so much worse He’s alive.”

Dark Magic seems to have the effect of making things difficult to heal.

~~~ Wolfsbane

Wolfsbane is a complex potion to brew. Not many are up to the task. It is disgusting, drinkable but difficult to get used to. It might make one feel unwell after consumption. It is a modern potion – invented in the last 15 years or so. Brewed by the cauldronful for more than one day's use. It is taken, one gobletful a day, for the whole week preceding the Full Moon. It is to be had directly, in one sitting. It 'smokes' faintly – persisting even in tiny amounts. Sugar negates the effects.

When taken for the entire week before the Full Moon, it will help the Werewolf 'keep their mind' when he transforms: Not a 'fully fledged monster' but a 'harmless wolf' that can stay calm and wait for the moon to wane. Some of that may be a little hyperbolic. It also helps speed up recovery time after the transformation. (Perhaps because the werewolf is resting, rather than running around or lashing out.) … As it is: Wolfsbane is a barely functioning 'treatment'. I'd say it's almost not worth the effort. Remus goes through every painful, debilitating and humiliating symptom he normally does, takes days to recover – and it has its own down-sides to boot. He probably isn't even fully safe. It just makes him less of a danger to others, shortens recovery time to two days... and probably stops his self harming. But he is still locked away, shunned, hated, feared, humiliated... still in pain. After every Full Moon Remus still looks thinner and worse. The potion barely helps him physically. It's 'best effects' are making him calm enough to stay inside – and faster-recovering to work a job.

But it is a recent potion. Perhaps it can be improved...? + Just being easier to brew would be enough to greatly increase its usefulness: it might not be perfect, but being easy would give werewolves more agency in caring for their own condition. It'd also help if they got to go to school and study Potions – maybe a treatment or cure would have been found by now if Werewolves could learn to study themselves. + Having the dose be smaller than a gobletful for a whole week. Going through such discomfort for a treatment is crushing in its own way and makes it less likely to be taken correctly. + Ideally, being able to prevent the transformation altogether would be amazing, even if they still felt like shit. The transformation is painful and literally dehumanizing. + If it's impossible to prevent, than keeping total sobriety is good, too. A lack of bloodlust even amongst humans. Remus could catch up on reading essays and be safe – like an Animagus. Edit: This might be what Wolfsbane actually does. I don't read it like that - but that could be my bias. From what I think: I'd like it to do it better. Not feeling like he has to curl up and wait 'as a 'harmless' wolf', but be a full human mind in his wolf body - no wolfish instinct and no sedation. Regular Remus sipping tea.

'Other Things'

We are given no information on the things Remus' parents tried... but the fact 'none of them worked' is pretty harrowing. It suggests a wide array of rumours and snake-oil treatments, meaning its a condition people are especially desperate for help with – and that desperation is abused. There's the funny or scary way of imagining this, where his parents are getting him to do weird things in the vague hope of a cure – but... all in all, it's very sad. Damaging.

The constant false hope that 'maybe this one will work'. Putting money into something for it to be a dud, meticulously following a formula and yet he still transforms just as painfully.

That sort of thing hits parents hard. They're desperately trying to at least ease the suffering of their sick child and are powerless. But it hits the child harder. Because they suffer... and are watching their parents struggle to stay positive. They feel like THEY are failing them by being sick. Ask me how I know. This one little line from Remus... says a lot.

'Harsh-smelling Ointment'

Werewolf bites are 'cursed wounds' – Lycanthropy is, at least partially, a type of curse. It prevents the wound from healing fully. No charms are known to work on werewolf bites, or perhaps on any cursed wounds. Dark Magic seems to have the effect of making wounds difficult to heal. (a cursed-off ear can't be reattached or regrown.) There is a treatment for fresh werewolf bites at least: 'A harsh, nasty smelling green ointment dabbed frequently and directly on the wound.' The only effect we see it have is its non-effect: as in its hardly closing up the wound with magic. It's not described as doing anything. It works slowly, which is rare for magical remedies. Perhaps it stops bleeding? Encourages healing? Removes cursed interference of natural processes?

We are told there's no charm known to work – but we do see Severus using a charm to heal Draco after Harry's Sectumsempra. Is that a different case? Is his spell a different type of curse? Has Severus invented a healing charm that will work on Dark Magic? I wouldn't put it past him – the fucker can fly. It's unknown. I will say that, knowing Severus, if he had invented a healing charm that could work on all Dark Magic wounds, he would probably have shared it. He enjoys when people don't die – and the Dark Lord and his followers use Dark Magic. But I still wonder, if he were there, if there was anything he could do for Bill. Albus, too. Tragic.

~~~ GREYBACK VS. LUPIN

(Not to the death. But Greyback would absolutely win btw. Lupin would get caught up in his feelings, flub a spell and rattle about like the bag of bones he is while Greyback gnaws on him.)

So its pretty clear that there's some massive differences between werewolves – not just between genetics, but the way their Lycanthropy affects them... and nobody bats an eye. It's normal. Fenrir Greyback has whiskers. Sharp teeth. Hair on his face. Strong, hardy, fast, heavy – comfortable and powerful on all fours. He wasn't always this way: about 30 years ago his Lycanthropy was unknown. Most werewolves seem to be unknown-looking – they hide amongst society, if they don't leave it entirely. Remus Lupin is unknown-looking, too. He looks like a regular Wizard... a sick one. Thin – and thinner after every Full Moon. Pallid. Shadowed eyes. Ill. He can barely fight a dog, even transformed – and looks like 'one good hex could finish him off'. What is with this difference...? Remus has been a werewolf for about 30 years... that's 360+ Full Moons. Fenrir has been a werewolf at LEAST that long, but probably longer. Potentially decades longer.

Would Remus, at 360 Full Moons, be facing an inevitable future of 'becoming obvious'? He desperately wants to hide his 'shame' – but will he get hair and whiskers on his face, too? It feels a bit arbitrary: How many Full Moons do you have to be a werewolf to simply have whiskers? Somewhere over 360...?

I suppose it could be an age thing: when you become an older person your body stops being able to fully shift between two forms. An ageing werewolf doesn't just get wrinkles - they get fur and fangs. I think the more likely answer, even if age still plays a part (I am rather attached to Remus' grey hair being a sign worsened by stress) is 'engagement'.

Remus is thin, sickly, suffering... desperate to restrain that whole part of himself – his illness – and pretend it doesn't exist. Every Full Moon he gets thinner. Fenrir is strong, heavy, thriving in his older age – so accepting of his illness he indulges in the pleasures of it even outside of the Full Moon. He stays strong, perhaps gets stronger.

If Remus were to be more accepting of his illness, if he were to let himself feed on Full Moons and indulge in blood etc. even as a human... if he kept his 'wolf' fed: He would be stronger. Healthier. But he is too self-loathing for that. He can't even handle his patronus being a wolf, let alone not hating his wolfish tendencies.

If Fenrir were forced on Wolfsbane potion, unable to hunt as a wolf or as a man – he would be hit by the Full Moon's harder. He'd be more ill, like Remus is. His 'wolf' is used to being 'overfed'.

Bill, though not a werewolf, indulges in his new taste for blood and accepts his new contamination, his new wounds, without self loathing. I'd say that's probably good for him. Like Fenrir.

~~~ MY THEORY ON: HOW BEST TO TREAT LYCANTHROPY B^)

Remus says some of his happiest memories are when he could run free on Full Moons with his friends. When he was accepted as what he was, protected, cared for. He stopped hurting himself. That is exactly the life Fenrir lives every day – and tries to make for other werewolves. He leads and cares for his fellows, he encourages Werewolves not to interact with people who would think ill of them and prioritise their own needs first. To relish in the blood they deserve.

Remus is sickly, weak and suffers because he starves his wolf. Fenrir is strong because he feeds it. I bet Remus being the only one not feeding his wolfish instincts in a werewolf commune would make him harder to trust. The only one without any fur on his face, who doesn't grow his nails out, who needs to force himself to partake in fresh hunts – and avoids violence. Hating himself is the biggest mark of 'having lived among Wizarding society'. We see a reflection of this in the Wolfsbane potion: It's difficult to make. It's arduous to stomach. It might even make you feel sick, in the short term... and for what? So you still go through a painful transformation – but are at least sober enough to miserably curl up, alone, sedated? A 'cure' my ass. It's a horrible treatment. Sedating ones wolf is painful, arduous and unhealthy. The Wolfsbane potion isn't made for Werewolves – it's made for healthy Wizards to control Werewolves with.

He would hate and be bitter, about having to spy on 'his equals' like Dumbledore wants – because it means engaging with 'his wolf' to fit in... which he finds conflicting and unsettling. Because he has had a taste of that better treatment.

“I’ve been living among my fellows, my equals,” said Lupin. “Werewolves,” he added, at Harry’s look of incomprehension. “Nearly all of them are on Voldemort’s side. Dumbledore wanted a spy and here I was... ready-made.” He sounded a little bitter, and perhaps realized it, for he smiled more warmly as he went on, “I am not complaining; it is necessary work and who can do it better than I? However, it has been difficult gaining their trust. I bear the unmistakable signs of having tried to live among wizards, you see, whereas they have shunned normal society and live on the margins, stealing — and sometimes killing — to eat.”

HBP, ch16

I believe living – and god forbid, spending Full Moons – with these Werewolves, who shun society in order to love their wolfish selves, would cause physical changes in Remus. Eventually. Starting off with growing out his nails and learning the mannerisms to fit in... but the more Full Moons spent running with a pack of human-minded animals, free and wild and indulging in joy rather than screaming in lonely pain... I think it would change him: Into a healthier man.

That's what being with Animagi mimicked. Humans are too much for his instincts to resist, and animals probably act and run in ways that are fun to chase or whatever – but a Stag with the mind of a Man does neither.

'And they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi.' … … 'Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.'

POA, ch 18

The marauders plan wasn't a perfect solution. They were sneaking around, having close-calls – Remus might have more of his mind with his 'pack' but he is still a danger out in the open. What Greyback does isn't perfect, either. They starve, they struggle, they get filthy and stink and rot within dreams of changing the world through violence. Remus' 'solution' sucks. Hate himself, slash himself open all alone and try to grow accustomed to the emotional hell that is society...

...Because society thinks them dangerous. They sneak around to avoid being spotted, they make communes because they aren't welcome, Remus needs to hate himself to fit in... But accepting the Wolf actively makes it safer for everyone.

That is the BEST treatment. Not just in a 'everyone can hold hands and be happy friends' way – but in a physical safety-oriented way: The issue is inevitable – so make room for it rather than push it out.

- Supported werewolves keep sobriety. - Supported werewolves are healthier, stronger people who aren't - chronically fatigued, who can work hard enough to even please Voldemort's standards. - Werewolves are easy enough to keep 'on a leash' – with simple enclosures and the help of Animagi.

There will always be werewolves. Perhaps a total cure could be found one day, or a better Wolfsbane constructed – but in the mean time there is a better way to keep the population safe... and its infrastructure and support.

Dumbledore was on the right track with treating Remus like a person. Sticking his own neck out to create things to support him – things that meant the world to him, that made him feel loved and accepted as a worthwhile person in Albus' life. Finding the balance of keeping others safe but not shunning Remus for being sick. I'm sure he would have loved the information that Remus felt so good amongst Animagi. Instantly gotten Minerva to help ease his Full Moons.

Am I saying every werewolf needs support Animagi? Yes, basically.

Facilities to keep others safe on the Full Moon – but the ability to have packs and socialisation that isn't shameful. A monthly animal bookclub with unique employment opportunities for Animagi. An occasional night-shift for healers or aurors, maybe part of their training. “We need more people to supervise and feed the London Werewolf Facility this Full Moon. You'll be paid overtime.”

- Werewolves are better registered – being taken care of is better than trying to hide. - Their whereabouts every Full Moon are known and accounted for. Safer for everyone. - They suffer less during their transformation, have a clearer mind, easier to control. - Less sickly werewolves like Remus – strong, healthy, can work and enjoy life better. - Less anti-Wizard werewolves planning to overthrow society via a bloodbath. - More job opportunities, for all you capitalist economists out there B^) - More research opportunities for the development of treatments and/or cures.

It is a win for quite literally everyone – for a small upfront cost of Ministry spending. But I am sure having more healthy Witches and Wizards in their small, secretive community would make up for it... rather than throwing people in the bin if they get sick.

Albus would have wanted to get involved, as he has an example of this very thing working: A small cost of providing a safe place to transform, some potion and a couple of days off a month... and Hogwarts had not only a dedicated student and Prefect – but a productive teacher that left such a mark on his students hearts that they still think of him as the best teacher they have ever had.

[an-na-el-le]

06/12 JUIN

Résumé de ce mois-ci en chiffres (ouais je m’améliore)

- 247 heures de taf, réparties équitablement entre chez moi et le bureau pour que mon équipe de pépite reçoive leur première prime (et pas des moindres)

- 165 heures de sommeil, et franchement on applaudit, parce qu’on partait de loin

- 16 heures sur l’A75, entre la maison et la maison bis

- 13 heures à me faire engueuler par Charline (mon coach ou mon bourreau ? vous avez 4h) parce que, apparemment, j’ai le cardio d’une chipolata

- 14 heures de footing avec Ulko entre les champs de maïs et le bassin de thau, sans faire le drapeau, ce qui est un exploit à célébrer avec minimum un kebab (partagé avec mon partenaire de run)

- 50 km dans les guiboles, mes cuissots n’applaudiront personne ici soyez en sûr

- 11 heures sur une piste d’athlé, à hurler comme une ultra-fan pour ma petite flèche supersonique (telle mère tel fils déso pas déso)

- 11 heures sur un terrain de rugby, les yeux embués de fierté devant les plaquages (presque) réglementaires de mon casse-cou

- 4 heures à acclamer mes mini-stars 6-8 ans pour leur gala de danse

- 6 heures à recadrer mes 12-17 ans, qui veulent briller plus fort que la boule à facettes de leur ego, mais « on va dead ça Anna c’est carré » (à l’aide envoyez-moi des renforts)

- 21 heures de révisions, à coacher mes trois étoiles du bac pour leur Grand Oral (mention ou rien)

- 52 heures au tel avec Phil, moitié call pro, moitié mamans dépassées, moitié potins. Oui, ça fait trois moitiés

- 12 heures de négo intense avec Manon de Manpower pour choper les meilleurs intérimaires de Clermont (spoiler : j’suis à pas grand chose d’embaucher Manon directement)

- 6 chiffres de CA encaissés, ching ching le tiroir caisse

- 2 stagiaires sous tension, et moi à deux doigts de leur offrir un aller simple vers une carrière dans la poterie (ça va vous et la patience ? Moi pas tant)

- 40 jours avant Royan (merci seigneur j’fais la meuf sûre d’elle mais c’est nécessaire une coupure là)

- 30 kg passé sur la balance pour mon Ulko (il bouffe mon poids en blanc de poulet un troisième enfant finalement)

- 2 jours muette, à cause du relais intercommunal de Nono (élue mère la plus hystérique mais supportrice de mes 23 p’tits champions et devinez qui a ramené la coupe à l’école ? Voilà j’ai pas crié pour rien)

- 5 sauvetages d’urgence de mon Ali (visiblement toujours pas croisé l’ami modération dans sa vie cette vieille poche)

On se donne rendez-vous le mois prochain pour pas mal de vadrouilles, d’apéros et de copines (parce que y a que ça de vrai finalement) ⛽️🌶️

PS : pas de photos pour illustrer ça j’ai pas eu le cœur, bisous

[quelconque]

j’ai fait des hotdog maison ! c’était délicieux, j’ai ajouté des oignons fris, une bonne chipolata et de la spicy mayo !