#harry monmouth

[wrench-bench]

hey gargoyles gang remember how i said i think the pack deserve more love?? well i went a bit crazy and decided to rough sketch what i’d want for merchandise of the pack!! (again, rough idea, just wanted to get my thoughts out) felt like sharing my thoughts here!!

i’m in no way a designer, just someone begging for pack merch

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

Dingo (29th March)

Gargoyles

[queen-paladin]

Hello, I will be auditioning for the role of Prince Hal in Henry IV Parts One and Two and I will be singing “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” from The Lion King

[britneyshakespeare]

I wanted to praise David Giles for giving David Gwillim the scar on his face after the Battle of Shrewsbury, that the real Henry V most definitely had from... well

(x)

Because this is the only thing I find really interesting about the true historical Henry V to be honest. And not particularly the wound of it, either. Moreso the fact that he hid the wound and we'll never know what it really looked like. Because we have this miniature of him as a prince, presumably a likeness taken (if taken from life) while he was quite young

And then as far as authentic images of him as King go, they're all taken from the side. Which was not conventional for portraits!

But then whoever put the wound on Gwillim keeps moving it to appear on slightly different parts of his face. Lol. Well.

[latinare]

This is a really vague question maybe you have some insight on.

I'm monolingual; I very casually study Spanish, ie duolingo, very slowly reading Harry Potter in translation, bantering with my mexican coworkers, etc, but I'm barely past where I was ten years ago in college. My grandparents native language was Sicilian, and so that's really been the dream to someday learn Italian. But for where I live, Spanish is a very practical language, and Italian really isn't. I'm scared to stop the small amount of Spanish study that I currently do and lose it, but at the same time it's not my ultimate goal. There are really only so many hours in the day.

How much Spanish do I need to learn before I can put it to bed and start clawing my way through Italian? Can you think of any benchmark I could use? I realize it's not an either/or situation, but I was hoping you might have some advice as someone whose language journey seems to be much more advanced that my own.

Thanks for your time and any thoughts you might have!

This is a good question and I think one all language-learners struggle with. I don't know that there's one good answer, but I have a few thoughts that may or may not be helpful.

When you study something, even if you have to set it aside at some point, you don't lose it completely. The next time you pick it up, it's easier and quicker to get back to where you were. It's okay to study cyclically.

You can study things in the cracks of your day. I have Latin vocab pinned above the sink to learn when I'm washing dishes, and I translate posts for this blog while I'm nursing my baby. I read Geoffrey of Monmouth when I have ten free minutes and feel like it. It doesn't look like enough time to study a language, but it adds up.

Studying a second language in the same family can be fascinating because they share cognates (cousin words) and grammar elements. Digging into this can deepen your understanding of both. (Sicilian and Spanish are both from the Romance branch of the Indo-European language family.)

Finding a way to work a little Spanish into your week may help you retain what you've already learned. (Maybe leave Harry Potter in your backpack to read when you're in a queue or waiting room?)

One of my personal language-learning benchmarks is being able to understand spoken humour, so I'd contest that bantering with coworkers in Spanish makes you more than monolingual. :)

Ugh, I feel like I'm not saying much that's concrete. I really hope you get to study Sicilian though! Best of luck with both, and any future linguistic endeavours too!

[smolvenger]

The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V/fem! Reader Oneshot)

Word Count: 7K

Summary: As his wife and queen, you follow your husband, Henry the Fifth to France for his battles. It is the morning of the battle of Agincourt, and you don't know if he will make it out alive. You spend one last moment of passion together.

Warnings: NSFW 18+ SMUT! SMUT! (We get TWO smut scenes in one onshot! P in V sex, missionary, doggy style, edging, medieval dirty talk, praise, slight degradation and edging breast play, degradation, bits of power play, doing the deed standing up-legit one of the filthiest things I've written in a long time!). Mentions of war and brief mention of sexual assault and death. Lots of angst, but also some fluff.

A/N: Based off of a dream I had. Enjoy!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (you can just skip the wedding night and barn scene and you will be good, bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner@littlespaceyelf@superficialdomina @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr

You never forgot the day you were introduced to the man you loved.

You were sent there to the castle. An alliance between your father and the new king of England was being considered. Nothing confirmed, you were told by your father. Only consideration.

“He is a single man. And young. He needs more for his army, his lands…and that is secured with a marriage,” he told you.

 The one key to sealing it.

You.

A marriage between you and this king. Many men in his army sealed with one woman being brought to his bed. And it might be you.

 You had heard he was a wild boy, Harry Monmouth, Prince Hal. But everyone assured you that he had somehow matured. No sooner than his father died but he had been far calmer, more responsible. He spent his hours studying rather than drinking.

But you were still nervous. When the day arrived for this alliance to be discussed, your father asked you to dress in your best. Looking in the mirror as you squeezed your mother’s hand, you wondered; am I good enough for a king’s glance? Perhaps if you had more jewels and walked in with the richest silks like a shining diamond, then he would take note. Still, bedecked in your finery, you headed off and were greeted at the castle. You were stopped, awaiting the signal.

“If the king decides he would like to meet you…then be ready,” he warned.

It might not happen at all, you wondered.

You did hear voices outside the thick door. Seeping through. No doubt there would be advisors and other lords to talk to the king. But there was one voice-he sounded young, indeed. He had a resonant, powerful voice- rich and commanding. But smooth too. The sort to command a legion but could also whisper gentle words to his lover.

 As you stood, wondering how long you both could wait, the door opened, and you jumped.

“His Majesty, King Henry the Fifth, would like to meet you,” the servant announced.

Just for consideration. Nothing permanent. Not yet, you thought. You were grateful your dresses were long. They would hide your shaking legs. You nodded, remembering basic etiquette as you gripped your father’s arm.  

The door opened and you both walked inside, your steps echoing throughout the stone castle. You took in your surroundings despite the air in your lungs almost stopping. The high windows with the orange sunlight. The long candles for light. The weaving of Saint George on the back wall. A wooden throne with tall, stone steps. There, you saw your father. A few lords in the back-old men with scarves for hats and long cloaks.

And in the center of it, turning towards you, was a young man. A young man with a crown- Henry the Fifth. The young king.

Extremely handsome. A head full of his auburn curls, his small, neat beard. His blue eyes were soft when he looked at you and a red leather doublet framed his lean body well. There were chairs about and you were led to sit in a chair some distance away.

Your father and the king began to talk. Keeping an appropriate distance. But you couldn’t help but admire the handsome, young king. If he were just an ordinary man going down the street, you would have indulged in ogling him. But you could not, you felt yourself get warm as you kept your eyes demurely on the floor when he caught you watching. Their voices became murmurs. Then the king turned to you.  

“You are the Lady Y/N…” he began.

He gestured to you to rise from your chair, you gave him a curtsy.

“I am, your grace,” you replied.

He walked up closer. You could hear his footsteps. You made your own breath slower. You could feel yourself sweat like it was July in Italy. You forced your eyes down, feeling your shaking going to your hands.

“You need not be shy, my lady,” he said.

You then looked up. Eyes onto him.

“Could you take two steps closer, my lady?” he asked.

You did. He walked around you in a circle, seeing all of you. You let him, though your heart was roaring in your ears. Feeling his eyes all over his potential bride- you. Once he stepped out, completing his circle, your eyes met his. Perhaps that was bold, considering his position- your lord and sovereign of your country. But nothing in him deterred.

“Are you well?” he asked.

“Very well, your grace.” You replied.

Henry turned to your father, looking at him, but only taking a step back.

“Sir…you have not offered me some mortal woman…” he began.

You folded your hands and did your best to mask your dread. Oh no, was he about to Call you something bad? How would you endure the humiliation of being not only rejected but insulted by the king of England mere minutes of meeting him!? You would have to spend your life under a rock in the woods to save your dignity. You looked up to him with big eyes and felt your body brace itself. To hold in the tears and anger of such a moment with as much false calm as you could. Awaiting the blow of the king's insult.

But no blow arrived.

Henry then smiled, eyes turning between you and your father.

“Here before me is an angel from heaven! A woman too lovely for us mere men!” King Henry the Fifth announced.  

One did not recover from such a statement quickly. "Shock" was not quite the word fitting for how you felt. No, it was this. Utter and pure delighted surprise. Your breath quickened. You felt a smile grow on you. Your heart picked up again as he walked closer to you.

“Thank you, your grace…do you fear blasphemy from such words?” you asked.

“Not if it is the truth, just as scripture is,” he added with a wink.

Your mind went blank at his wink, his smile. Hot and your mind spinning. Your mouth kept running from the excitement. But still polite.

“You are generous, your grace.”

He went up to you.

“Could you…call me Henry? Or Harry? Hal, even?”

“I could…Henry,” you replied.

 You watched Henry turn to your father and shake his hand. The alliance went through. With a flourish, he signed the treaty and the agreement to marry you.

“Ah, my lucky little girl…now about to be queen of England!” your father would say later, kissing your cheek.

Henry (for now he was more than just the king, but your intended!) would often invite you to visit. Giving you tours of every room and corner of the castle.

“After all, it’s going to be your home!” he would claim.

Or, to the most shock of anyone, he would visit your home himself to see you. Fine dinners would be served, and he would sit by you as you sewed, smiling like a schoolboy just to be beside you.  

A chaperone was always present, but quiet in the back. A smiling shadow upon you two. Henry wrote you numerous letters and you wrote back to him when he was away. It was easier to like him the more he spent time with you. If not, be infatuated with him. Maybe even love him as the months to the wedding passed. He showered you with gifts and lovers’ tokens. Little ribbons and pieces of jewelry and belts and scraps of paper with love poetry.

The first time he held your hand, you thought you saw him tremble a little. His thumb went over the skin of yours. He was very soft- not pressing or squeezing your own. You felt as if you could float.

The first time he kissed you was the day before the wedding. You were both walking in the gardens. With the sun gentle and the flowers in bloom, it was just like a dream. Your chaperone was in the back, her arms folded before her. Then Henry stopped his steps and turned to you.

“Could I kiss you…on the lips, Y/N?” he asked, his eyes hopeful like a puppy.

You didn’t have the heart to say no. How fortunate that you wanted to. You felt yourself swallow hard and then nod your head.

“Yes,” you answered.

 He tipped your chin to meet him and kissed you. It was gentle.  Chaste, even. You felt his soft lips and nothing else.  But it was…loving. Your knees wobbled again. You felt the breath from his nose. He was so close. So, so close. He felt…good. He let go, the lips clicking as they retracted. Both of your eyes were still closed. When you opened, he relaxed and let out a smile. You opened your mouth a little but had no words.

“Your kiss has a power to it, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I will use them with caution, then,” you replied teasingly.

You then returned to wrapping an arm around his and continuing walking. Both you and your chaperone shared a look, giving an appreciative nod. Something was growing inside you for him. Something…more.  

 You couldn’t deny that Henry was the most handsome man you had ever lain eyes on. His broad back and his slender waist. His winning smile, large, gentle hands, cheekbones, tall height, soft blue eyes- all beautiful.

And desirable.

He was lean and strong-what did he look like beneath his leather and velvet? If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t wait for your wedding…and your wedding night. You often indulged in secret glances at his codpiece and his behind whenever he turned around-his pants flattered him. And both sides were something to see. The beautiful curls- a mix of red and blonde that he combed back. You wondered what it would be like to touch. Even pull! That was from what you learned from others of what happened between a husband and wife before the big day. Henry’s beard made him look mature and dignified. Not some pranking, whooping boy- a man. A man who knew how to take care of a woman in bed.

Even among your tours of the castle, he never took you to your private chambers. But whenever you passed by the hall with those large, wooden doors right at the end of a small passageway, you couldn’t help but grin.

Already tingly and titillated at the thought of the night, you kept your smile when they dressed you on your wedding day. It was joyous. Your gown was made with the finest while silk with little pearl embellishments and a jeweled belt. No one would doubt you were Queen of England already. Your father led you out. When you were placed on Henry’s left at the door of the chapel, you could see his smile on you- already bedecked in red with his crown. The ceremony felt far too long. But you held yourself together like a giddy child on a festival. The mass and prayers came and went. Henry made his vows before an altar as did you. Then the priest made the sign of the cross over you two.

It was done. You were married to him now. The second the priest let his hand down, bells all over the city- no, not just the city, England itself it-chimed out. Flower petals were tossed your way as you both walked out through the city, presented to the people as a couple.

There were enough guests that it seemed like half the world’s population was there at the feast. Your friends and family, those you loved dearly, were invited.  A thankful distraction from your growing physical desire for your husband (to think! Henry was now your husband!!). They embraced you and wished “Y/N, oh much congrats!” to you. You never felt such beaming love from everyone you cared for as that day. You hugged and chatted and celebrated with the people you loved. Henry smiled at you and kissed your hand with such tenderness your heart could burst. The feast tasted sweet, and the music played even sweeter.

 The room became darker, and servants lit more candles. Guests were leaving. It was announced that there would be a bedding ceremony. It was finally time, you thought with trepidation. Musicians played songs as the party led you to Henry’s chambers through those stone halls. Henry was adorably nervous. You saw his hands twitch and when you brushed close to him. Oh, no doubt you were nervous too. Any rational person in your situation would be nervous. You considered yourself such. But you were also…excited. Ready.

You entered the bedroom. It was large. Fitting for the king. Once it was your father-in-law’s room- the late Henry the Fourth. Now it was your husband’s. It was full of lit candles with tall stained-glass windows, and a white stone floor with black squares. A large bed with a dark canopy full of gold-colored fleur-de-lys patterns, cream pillows, and thick, dark blankets.

Servants undressed you from that beautiful wedding dress. They undressed Henry too until both of you were in your shifts. You couldn’t help but notice how the collar peeked at a beautiful, broad chest-just open enough to see a peek. It seemed as beautiful as you imagined. It made more shivers of desire run through you. You were given a cup of spiced wine that you both sipped from. It felt as sacred as a Eucharist- he looked at you as you drank and as he drank. An offering of something shared-how now you would be joined as one. The bed was now an altar and lovemaking a rite.

 After the bishop blessed the bed, Henry dismissed every courtier. He thanked them for celebrating with him but insisted on privacy. They bowed and left. For the first time, you both were truly alone. He then turned to you.

“How are you, your Highness?” he asked, noting your new title, he took your hands, running a thumb over them.

“It was a long day…but a happy one. I’m a little tired…. but I’m well…,” you answered.

“I’m glad you are, Y/N…” he replied.

Smiling at him, You cupped his cheek and moved his arms to embrace you. He blinked in slight surprise.

“You can hold me…husband,” you said, relishing the taste of the word.

The most you did throughout your betrothal was hold hands. But he obliged and put his long arms around you. He smelled of wine and a bit of incense from the ceremony at the church. With his thumb, he gently traced your face.

“If Satan himself would look at you, he would weep and confess for forgiveness at once…Y/N, Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes- please kiss me,” you replied.

Then he kissed you. But you kept him there. Pressed against you. God’s blood, that beautiful man right near you, against you, on you- feeling his warmth, his body on yours. You wanted more. You then grabbed him and kept kissing him again and again. He felt so warm and soft…except for one part of him you could feel against you. And no codpiece to cover for it. You bit back a giggle at the new feeling, knowing that he really felt the same despite his wide eyes and blushing cheeks. And your body replied in turn. It was as if lightning was coursing through you.  It made you wetter than the sea. Preparing yourself for him.

Oh, and you were more than ready. And this was a perfect time for it. You grabbed onto him. Then began to lead him to the bed with a smile, walking up two little elevated steps that led to the bed strewn with flowers and ribbons for this night. For this moment. For this act. Then right before the bed, your fingers went to the strings of your shift on the collar that held it together-the only layer over you.

Henry’s jaw dropped a little, looking down and then back up to your face. Even if you saw an outline of his desire through his shift, his eyes grew wide.

“Y/N …are you…sure?” he asked.

You undid the tie, showing the valley of your cleavage. You felt his eyes flutter down then forced back up at yours.

“Henry…I want you to take me. Make love to me- make love to your wife tonight!” you insisted quietly.

“I did not wish to…to push you to…to…uh, consummate the marriage before you...you wanted to…” he replied meekly.

The most powerful man in the world and here he was at a loss of words. To think this was once the tavern boy caught with prostitutes!

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Henry…I want you…take me on your bed…you are my king….rule me and have me here then….” You whispered.

You led his hands to push the rest of your shift off. Leaving you bare before him. His eyes finally drank all of you in.

That was enough to persuade him.

He pushed you down and was on top of you.  Like an animal released from his cage, his kisses had a little more fire to them. His hands began to roam greedily over your body. Down your chest, feeling one of your breasts as he kissed you. Then down your stomach, over your hip bones- feeling each bit of you. He began to pant heavily, his eyes full of eager joy and a playful lust in his smile.

Then you helped to take off his shift. You nearly forgot to breathe at the sight of Henry’s naked body. His strong abdominals and arms. His large chest with a few black hairs. Of course, his own cock was so hard and large you bit back the urge to gasp at the sight of it.  You laid down on the bed, smiling at him.

“Please, Henry…I ache for you…” you urged. Splaying your body before him on his bed. Feeling like a siren. Only he was no hesitant prey.

He pulled himself over you, taking one hand of his to position your legs to open, shifting his weight on top of you.

“I always wondered what this night would be like…what it would be like the moment I saw you…” he whispered.

He looked at you, cupping your cheek. Seeking permission as he settled himself, his tip just at your entrance’s beginning.

“Henry…I’m ready…” you urged him.

Not wanting to keep you waiting any longer. Not able for himself to wait any longer. He then positioned himself. Slowly, he entered you. Inch by agonizing inch. You writhed beneath him, moaning as he got inside.

“Oh! Oh-oh God!” you cried. He was big. You could feel him creeping in deep, almost like your stomach could be penetrated from his largeness. You clung onto the sheets tight, and his own hand went over yours.

He himself let out a grunt when he finally shifted all his cock inside you. There was a little pain, but it fizzled out. You were full-and it was heavenly You held onto him. He pulled his hips back and began to slowly enter you again and again. You groaned with each delicious thrust of his.

“Yes…nrgh-my wife-you-gods-my wife-my sweet wife-“he whispered with each snap.

You opened your arms as well as your legs, holding onto him. He repeated your name again. Kissing you tenderly on the side of your head when he could. A mess of groans and kisses and praise was all the king could say. His arms stretching around to keep you in his embrace.

Then he used one hand and lifted your legs up to a new position- a little deeper. Your knees went up. You let out little cries with each slow, sloppy movement. Each welcome intrusion of him to your insides. You had never known pleasure as much as this.

“Yes…oh gods…Henry…Henry I…oh!” you breathed out.

Your head lay on those cream pillows. Soft as clouds. With the dark bed canopy and the roaring fire, the rain outside pattering the windows, there was never a lovelier, more peaceful night. His curls fell before his face. He kept at it- thrust, thrust, thrust. His shallow breathing above you, and the moans that escaped you that were far from maiden modesty.

 He held you. He gave you an open kiss as he thrust forward for one. He began to mutter more.

“Yes…nrgh- yes, -my little queen…doing so well…”

More little noises came out of you. And you heard his voice get only a little higher in pitch. And yet he continued, only barely picking up the pace. You wrapped your hands to him and ran one through the curls on his head- how soft they felt, like little auburn feathers.  How soft the bed was-a feathered mattress against your bare skin as it slide back and forth slowly against it with each snap of his kingly hips. Henry slowed one thrust but would give you a little kiss- your cheek, the side of your face.

“God’s blood-my wife-nrg-sweet wife-oh-yes-taking-taking me…”

He kept at it. Then he reached down. He found your entrance, the very beginning where your lips and walls. He talked softly in between thrusts.

“I’m…I’m close, and I think….I think you are too, my little wife- I…yes…come undone, come undone with me…”

 He reached inside and you gasped from the feeling. He found your bud, his finger curling with it, stroking it with each thrust. You let out another gasp. He smiled.

“Let go wife-nrgh-let it…let it-“

 He began to strum it. Then everything overwhelmed you. You were spinning higher and higher. His kisses and hands already felt your bud and with his playing. You felt yourself winding up, curling up inside. You shook so hard. You wondered if you were going to die from the overwhelm, from the rising feeling, the intensity. His thrusts picked up the pace, you felt it growing, growing, growing.

Then finally, something hit you so suddenly, so hard-your body clenching and releasing all at once you let out a loud cry as the sensation hit you like cold air.

“Ah!”

A last thrust, the king of England came undone and let out his own small shout of pleasure. Then he stopped his thrusts. He stayed inside you, letting his seed rope itself. Then he held you, held you tight as he came inside you. It seemed as if the world itself stopped.

 Once it was done, he pulled out but kept close to you. Caressing your cheek. Panting hard, his broad, strong chest rising with his breaths.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I feel…I’ve never felt so good, husband,” you replied with a giggle as you pulled him forward to wrap your arms and kiss him until both fell asleep.

He did turn out to be a good husband. Always listening, gentle, and enthusiastic about his role. He listened to your own advice and always took you seriously. He was aggressively faithful, shutting down even the idea of a mistress if any lord was foolish enough to suggest it. He spent time with you. There were so many times you would hold him to your chest and hum, playing with his curls. You learned from each other and challenged each other to do better each day. Be it in a game of chess or in court. He made you feel…safe. Wanted. Loved, even. Not to mention he was a passionate lover in bed. If your one duty was to bed the king, then being queen was quite a simple task indeed. And a duty you loved to fulfill again. And again. And again. And again.

You managed your own life as queen well. adapting and figuring it out. Attending parliament by his side.

You were sitting by him when the fateful day came. It was found out he had a claim to France. And the French ambassador mocked him by giving him the gift of a box full of tennis balls. Furious at the insult, Henry declared there and then he would begin an invasion of France.

 He’s going to leave. He’s going to be gone to war. And who knows how long, you thought sadly. You went to your chambers and began to sob. Then the next day, all were discussing logistics. You sat on your own throne, contemplating it all as they talked.

“Yes, my brother- John shall stay. He will lead…” Henry announced. “And by this day, we will gather the army and set sail for France.”

You couldn’t take it. You sat up at once.

“And I will go with you!” you insisted.

The men’s heads turned to you.

“What?!” cried one lord, stepping forward.

The advisors went around you.

“Your Highness…it is not safe!” advised another.

You walked forward, looking down at the table with the map on it. Then you looked at them and addressed them.

“My husband is a warrior. And when we were married, we were made one. This means I am a warrior too, in my own way. And where he goes, there I must go too- his battles are mine as well. Then I say- I will go with him!” you declared, slamming a firm hand on the table.

There was a second of silence. Then your husband took your hands.

“If we can make it safe for her, she will go with me,” he said.

You went off to France with him. You braved the rollicking ships. You both shared a little cot bed as the ship heaved back and forth at night. One night was a storm and the thunder surprised you so much in your bed, you clung to him. He only laughed a little, rubbing your back in comfort.

“It’s only the voice of God, my dove, He is on our side…and protecting you,” he assured, kissing your forehead.

It was not long before it arrived and the army began to set forth. You traveled through forests, riding your horse by your husband’s side through villages and countryside for entire days.  You were a little nervous being the only woman surrounded by men. But they knew how precious a queen you were to their Harry of England, their sovereign. If any of them dared to lay a hand on you, they knew they would face a quick and bloody end on their king’s sword. So, they kept respectful, always greeting you with bows and soft voices.  You would set up camp and then live in a tent rather than a palace.  Some hours you would give your own counsel as you stood by him for planning the army’s next move. When there was an attack, you were put in a safe place with many guards so none would dare hurt the king’s beloved. Other times, you would volunteer with the food or help with medical needs- helping with injuries, cooling warm foreheads with cloths. You saw this fiercer side already of him. He shouted bold, encouraging speeches as they went and attacked towns.

Though you scolded him for the speech he made to the Governor of a city called Harfleur. When they arrived, to your immense shock, Henry coldly threatened his army would pillage the town, set their infants on spikes, and ravish the village women. That was enough to persuade the governor to open the gates and peacefully let them go through without one shred of violence. But his words still rang and made you see red with anger.

You met him in your tent later, and he jumped at your frown. You crossed your arms.

“Henry- you dare to have your men do these unspeakable things to women! You know better! Have you considered I am a woman as well?! And that is our worst fear!”

“I only wished to scare him. I knew it would move him, my dear. And it does happen during wars…”

“You will not let that happen! You will not let the soldiers force themselves on civilian women-or I shall never speak to you, and you won’t be allowed in my chambers either! I’ll sleep in another tent and not allow you to lay a hand on me!” You chided.

It was a threat which, like his to the governor, worked well. He never made a spoke like that again. And you forgave him.

The many ups and downs.  The army was too depleted to move onto Paris so all of you went to Calais. You stopped and fled further realizing the French army was chasing everyone down. You arrived at the small town of Agincourt. The French army had now surrounded you. The Dauphin arrived one cold night. And it was decided-there would be a formal battle tomorrow.

Now here it was- a decisive battle. Only a small handful of soldiers could get a full night’s sleep and Henry himself stayed awake to talk to them. But in your tent, you tossed and turned in your makeshift bed under many blankets. You awoke and then fell again. Your worries had haunted you.

They were going to fight the Dauphin’s army. And the Dauphin’s men outnumbered Henry’s. Five French soldiers for every English.

You awoke shivering and dressed. You gathered your cloak for it was a cold day. Opening the flap of one tent, you saw him. Henry. A small distance away, kneeling in the grass. It was so early that the sky was still grey, the sun barely peeking. You could hear his prayer.

“Lord…strengthen my soldier’s hearts…I’ve made my repentance to Richard and his grave…. please strengthen them…and me…”

Five to one, your mind kept repeating to yourself. Five to one. Five to one.

You wondered at the white horse he brought with him. It was with the others chewing on grass in ignorance of what was about to happen. Why would your husband need it? It would be as if he was a target for their practice! A surefire way to signal this was the man to kill.

How fragile he seemed as he kept praying. He was human. Your husband’s mortality dawned on you. His racing heart could stop. His warm skin grow cold. And his shallow breaths of his anxious prayer would end and there would be none anymore. He dressed in a red doublet- red as the blood threatening to spill from him.

You approached him, noticing him making the sign of the cross to end the prayer. He turned his head to see you.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Only as well as I can be…” he asked.

He easily got up from the grass. Then he went over to a of his lords and guards already armored. He whispered something to them. Nodding, they turned back to camp. He then returned, his gloved hands taking yours.

“I’d…I’d like to spend some time with you…. before…before it starts,” he said.

“Of course, dear husband,” you answered with a smile.

Both of you walked into the woods. It was peaceful- you heard the leaves beneath your shoes and the birdsong. The rustling of trees and the mist as gentle as his kisses at your wedding.  Disguised in your cloaks, you could have been any ordinary pair of lovers wandering in the forest. Not a king and queen of a whole nation.

“Y/N…do you see that? In the valley?” he asked, pointing at a hand.

It was a barn and An old house. The house was abandoned and burned to where the walls were only halfway stood beside it. The barn was intact. He led you inside- the wood creaking and the wind whistling through it. There wasn’t one living life around. No horses. No pigs. Not even an ant.

“We’re a distance off…are we still safe?” you asked.

“It’s alright- you know the path- find the oak tree with mushrooms and keep walking north…Y/N, I asked the guards to leave us alone for a little. I wanted to…to be with you.”

There were no animals around, much less people.  Only you two. Even the sky itself seemed unreal. It was nothing but the grey light of dawn over a cloudy sky. So early, it felt cold. And it was misty and grey.

It was dark and musty in the barn. You saw a wooden bench and stables and troughs. But it was mostly hay- so much hay that there were still tall stalks around the barn.

He then turned to you and kissed you. He took you in his arms. He touched your face, and you realized a tear was rolling down your cheek.

“Y/N…I want this…if this is our last moment together…I….” he began.

He held you closer.

“Yes, Henry….”

He took a deep breath. Then kissed you again, only leaving a trail down your neck. Your heart picked up and you warmed up quickly. He then returned, cupping your face again and looking directly into your eyes, so close. So, there was only him.

“The camp is far off. They won’t disturb us. They won’t hear us. Y/N I… I…I love you….”

“I love you too,” you replied. You kissed him again. You shivered from feeling the cold. And the growing desperation on his face.

“I know this is not the most romantic place. This is not the most beautiful speech I can think of. But…I say it again because it is simple. It is true- I love you, Y/N. And should I die, I want you to know that…”

He paused. Then blinking back a couple tears, he continued.

“If…If this is the day, I’m killed…it is a prayer for you that will be my last word…I’m glad I met you. I’m glad I married you. I have so much shame, so much regret…but you- you were the best choice I made as king. To choose to marry you, love you…”

You cupped him and kissed him again. You felt him press against you. His hands went from your back to your sides. His gloves went up and began to bunch your skirt. Already, you felt yourself grow wet for him. Feeling the bit of cold air on your skin.

“The guards are away…the army is away…they’re far…my wife…please…. here…. love me one last time, lie with me here-so I can feel you-know it is like inside you, to feel your pleasure one more time…”

You grabbed onto him. Feeling his skin, his breathing in his body-his life. His fire.

“Yes…take me. Henry- use me now. I know you feel so much. Take it out. Take out everything on me…just love me…make love to me, husband. Strongly. Strongly as you feel,” you pleaded.

He gave a small smile, giving a last kiss with tongue. Tasting him. He pressed you close.

“You will?” he asked.

“I will,” you answered.

 Then he pushed you roughly and you and you landed with a small laugh against a haystack. One so high it was taller than yourself.   He then backed you to the haystalk in a second. His kisses on your neck had added teeth. He was leaving marks against the skin of your exposed neck.

“Do you like this, little wife?” he asked.

“I do!”

He chuckled lightly.

“Gods, you torment me. Each time you are there in my tent, every meeting you look at me and smile, I imagine you without your gown on. If could, I’d have you over that very table the second they left every meeting…”

Then, his hand turned to a grip. He grabbed onto you. You began to grind naturally against him. He gasped at the feeling but kept talking.

“Perhaps I could grab you and have you on the grass. And have every soldier who leered at you to watch. To have them watch as I take you like a beast. So, they know none of them can make you cum like I can.  Until your name is all you can say on your lips. So, they all know you are mine.”

He found the blouse of your dress. Desperately, he pulled down the overdress’s shoulders. With one tug, he undid the strap of the shift beneath and pulled it down. Your breasts exposed. He cupped and kissed it. He kept a hand, pinching your nipple as he went to your ear. Then he began to make more biting kisses on your neck You embraced him- touching what you could, kissing what you could.

“Henry…I love you, I love you…” you repeated.

“I love you, and be ready, little wife. You’ve wanted fire-now you have it.”

He lowered his mouth to kiss your breasts. Then he used teeth and tongue. He bit your breasts, licked your nipples, and then used his teeth. You began to moan. It was so loud, that you were grateful not even animals could hear you now.

Then he lightly tossed you around. Then he turned you around, pushing you so that you leaned over a wooden bench that was kept there. Your hands braced onto the wood. He then lifted your skirt up to your hips, your bum exposed to him. He gave you a small smack on your behind. You let out a cry.

“I remember your chiding at Harfleur. That’s what you get, little wife, when you disobey your king. You get punishment.”

He began to undo his pants with a quick click of his belt. He began to thrust into you there- hitting this new angle. It was so obscene; you couldn’t help but give into it. Your own filthy moans and his grunts right behind you.

“There-nrgh-yes-I-I-I-take you, like-like a whore-“

You were moving along, feeling your own body shake with each fast, deep thrust. You let out shouts as he got over. The spinning feeling, coiling in your belly, rising from the delicious degradation.

“Oh…oh gods-Henry-I’m-I’m going to-to cum, I’mgoingtocumI’m-“

Then he stopped. You heard his voice behind you.

“Not yet…. you won’t release yet. I’m not done,” he announced.

He turned you around. His large hands almost ripped off your cloak, and then your dress so it pulled down. If he could rip your dress to shreds, he would. But he only roughly put it all aside. You were fully naked, and he was still clothed. He smiled and licked his lips, his curls freed from his head.

“This- seeing this again- I would fight a hundred battles to see your bare breasts and feel your sweet warmth around my cock again.”

He picked you up. You held onto him. With one hand, he pulled down his pants as you held tighter. Released, his leaking tip is already teasing your entrance. Then he backed you up against the hay. He hooked your leg up to be around him. The hay was so high and sturdy that it held you up.

“My queen among people, but my whore in this barn.”

You gasped a little as he entered you. He was fast, desperate. His thrusts wild. He even freed one hand and slapped your breasts, and you let out a cry.

“How can I not touch these breasts? You make me too hard to even think in this army. Riding my horse when I want to use you like a mare beneath me.”

“Hen-Henry-I-I-“ the words left you.

Your breasts began to bounce with his movement obscenely. He grunted more like an animal. You wrapped your arms around his still-clothed shoulders, trying to keep up.

“I love-love-nrgh-you so much-gods-yes, I love you-nrgh-you’re all I could think about-yes-do you understand-ah!- how hard -yes- it is to speak diplomacy-nrgh- with the French when your cock is raging hard seeing your wife?”

He thrust into you again and your own voice was getting a little higher. Hard, rough, desperate.  The spinning, the rising was happening. You held onto him. Then one glove began to reach down and circle your clitoris, you gasped- letting it out. The hard leather on your wet folds, on your bud was going to break you. You heard his words. You bit on, to fight the rise, to not release yet. Hearing each thing he said.

“If I live- I Want you in my tent. On my bed, over the blankets. I want you naked -and I want your legs spread wide for me-so I can ravish you like this again when it’s done. Do that-do that for your king,”

“Yes, yes-I will!”

“I-I-am-nrgh-your king, am I?” he asked as he thrust.

“Y-yes! Yes, you are!”

“Who is your king?”

“Henry! Henry’s my king!”

He then continued at another violent, rougher pace. You wondered how much of this you could even take.

“I want to take you-nrgh- scream-nrgh-so all of France know who belongs to you-you-yes-NRGH- are mine-as-as as France as mine.”

He began to thrust harder. You gasped, as he kept at it.

“Oh-Oh my god-oh god- it’s-it’s happening-Henry I’m-I’m I’mI’mI’m-“

“Yes-Yes-you’re there, little whore-cum-cum for your king-cum for your king-cum for your king!”

Finally, you did too with a last scream. It echoed across to where the sound pattered through the woods. With a breathy, struggled shout he released as well. He kept thrusting, but slower. His hot speed shot forth and went inside you. Both of you panting wildly- you could see your chests heaving. He then held you, shaking a little as he caught his breath.

“Y/N….darling…thank you…I love you…so much…”

He kissed the side of your head as you nestled together. He kissed your cheek and his grip softened.

“Are you hurt?”

“No…I’m not…I have never felt better…” you said.

He helped you back up. Though you felt a little dizzy from the intensity. You could feel his seed inside you-dripping a little down your thighs. You wanted it to stay. Perhaps you would have a child from this and you would have to one day tell them they were conceived on the morn of a battle. Your legs shook. He picked up your discarded clothes and quickly helped you dress back into them. You combed you both wiped the hay off of both of you.

“That was…that was incredible…” you sighed as he clasped the cloak around you.

“And I must agree with you…” he replied.

You walked out soon. Still holding hands. He blushed bright red and there was a prance to his step. Confidence. Even if he was defeated, he would not go down easily. Not without a fight. The sun was now rising higher. The time was approaching. You watched as he was fitted back to his armor by his servants as you stood and watched. Exchanging small looks between you. But before he faced his men, he went back and gave you a passionate kiss. The deepest, and most loving kiss you ever felt him give you.

“Should anything happen to me- the Dauphin out of mercy he shall make sure you are safely brought home to England as an act of diplomacy. I made him promise. And the remaining soldiers will guard you, as well as my uncle.”

“But if…nothing happens to you…” you asked hopefully.

“Then…you remember your promise…” he said with a grin.

“I will see you in our tent…”

He smiled, then he went down and kissed your hand. Tears in his eyes.

“I never knew one soul like yours. Your courage, your kind heart, your wisdom…the greatest of all queens in all nations, and if I had my choice of every woman, it would still be you…”

You embraced him a last time.

“I love you, Y/N. And you will always be loved by me. Thank you…thank you for everything…”

“I love you too, Henry…”

Sharing a brief last kiss on your forehead, he went on his white horse. You felt tears streaming down your face. Then off he went with his men to battle. You never felt prouder of him. Though you felt yourself crying, you were smiling as well. Proud of your king. Your lover. Your husband.

[greatwyrmgold]

Halcyon Dreams

When you watch any artist for a long enough time, you start to notice patterns in their work—methods they reuse, ideas they return to, themes they fixate on. Watching Harris Bomberguy's plagiarism video made me think about that.

The obvious point of comparison is that Tommy Tallarico exposeé masquerading as a video about a funny oof, since that is the last video Mr. Bomberguy put on YouTube before the plagiarism video. But watching the ROBLOX_OOF.mp4 had reminded me of an even older hbomberguy video, Halcyon Dreams: The Legacy of Dragon's Lair.

The thesis of that video is similar to ROBLOX_OOF.mp4 and Plagiarism and You(Tube). It's about how people with money and fame can use those things to erase the contributions of others, claiming that they alone are responsible for the accomplishments of entire teams.

In the introduction and conclusion of Halcyon Dreams, Mr. Bomberguy mentions how Geoffrey of Monmouth claimed that Stonehenge was constructed by a single legendary wizard, rather than a bunch of skilled but otherwise unremarkable masons and architects.

He compares the way Don Bluth receives credit and recognition for projects that dozens of other animators and other artists worked on (and, in the case of Dragon's Lair, programmers and other technicians). He compares Bluth to Merlin, and it wouldn't be hard to apply that same analogy to Tommy Tallarico or any of the youtubers mentioned in the latest video.

But there's a crucial difference. OOF and Plagiarism are focused on Tallarico and the plagiarists, on Merlin, on showing the depth of the lies by these self-proclaimed wizards, focusing on the man behind the curtain. And Halcyon Dreams does talk about Don Bluth's wizardry for the first bit of the video, but then he pivots to someone else. One of the architects that helped him build Dragon's Henge.

Rick Dyer has similarities to the wizards. Like Tallarico, he named his company after himself. Like Bluth, he mortgaged his house to fund an ambitious creative project, after leaving a more famous company. But there are two crucial, interlinked differences between Dyer and the wizards. First is how few people have herd his name, second is how his creative project failed.

Most of Halcyon Dreams is about the Halcyon, and about Thayer's Quest and Kingdom: Shadoan, the remnants of Dyer's ambitious plan. It's the story of Rick Dyer, or part of it. Most of the video isn't focused on anything directly related to his thesis; Dyer's story isn't really a story about stolen valor. He just talks about Rick Dyer's creation, and just brings up the thesis to explain why he thinks it should be talked about.

OOF and Plagiarism are about people left in obscurity as others take credit for their work, in the sense that they talk about people taking credit for work done by obscure people. Halcyon Dreams is about that, in the sense that it talks about someone left in obscurity as someone took credit for (the most successful part of) his work.

If you want a palette cleanser after watching Plagiarism and You(Tube), I'd like to recommend Halcyon Dreams.

[yr-martyr]

The Amrev people as things my friends and I have said (Pt.3)

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Hale: So, I’ve been hunting my brother for sport…

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McHenry, running into a room holding his wet sock in his hand:CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THE DEVIL THERE’S A BAG OF MILK ON THE GROUND?!

Harrison: …A bag of milk?!

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Hamilton: What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever did in a prestigious place

C. Addams: Um, so I’ve gone to Harvard a lot of times and-

Hamilton: oh buddy…

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Hamilton: I didn’t have much free time as a kid

Lafayette: I didn’t either

Hamilton, sarcastically: Oh yeah, I’m sure you had to work so hard in the palace of the gods

Lafayette: if it was Olympus maybe there’d of been something to do

Hamilton: so you admit it

Laurens: we used to hit my brother Harry with sticks sometimes

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Everyone at Monmouth: I’m going to melt like the wicked which of the west

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Laurens: what are you doing?

Hamilton: Bad bitch shit

Laurens:

Hamilton: finances

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Tilghman: And we are live in 2 minutes!

Hamilton: I have this friend, Eliza

Tilghman: is that short for Elizabeth or is it just Eliza

Hamilton: Well her grandmother died on the day she was born so she’s named after her

Tilghman, crying laughing: YOU CANT SAY THAT WERE GONNA BE LIVE!

Hamilton: my mom died

Tilghman: THATS NOT BETTER

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Tallmadge: well how’s the spy work going

Hale: I got attacked by a dog and then I got into a physical fight with a literal 12yo

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Hale: I’m not having the best luck today… or ever.

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Hamilton: *spits on the floor*

Laurens: That is literally so disgusting

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Hale: so, I don’t think anybody cares but ZYDRATE COMES IN A LITTLE GLASS VILE!

Tallmadge: A LITTLE GLASS VILE?!

Washington: this is a serious meeting!!

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Brewster: Once I drank gas station gas and I used a leaf to wipe my ass

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*over text*

Shippen: Adel and I took a train down to the morgue once

Andrè: ????

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Tallmadge: Jekyll and Hyde more like Jackal and Hyde

Billy Lee:…

Tallmadge: *screeches*

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Hale: I’m scraping gunk of my horn

Hale: that sounds really gross I’m like,, genuinely scraping gunk of a powder horn right now

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By JENNIFER PELTZ

September 11, 2023

NEW YORK (AP) — Americans are looking back on the horror and legacy of 9/11, gathering Monday at memorials, firehouses, city halls and elsewhere to observe the 22nd anniversary of the deadliest terror attack on U.S. soil.

Commemorations stretch from the attack sites — at New York’s World Trade Center, the Pentagon and Shanksville, Pennsylvania — to Alaska and beyond.

President Joe Biden is due at a ceremony on a military base in Anchorage.

His visit, en route to Washington, D.C., from a trip to India and Vietnam, is a reminder that the impact of 9/11 was felt in every corner of the nation, however remote.

The hijacked plane attacks claimed nearly 3,000 lives and reshaped American foreign policy and domestic fears.

"On that day, we were one country, one nation, one people, just like it should be. That was the feeling — that everyone came together and did what we could, where we were at, to try to help,” said Eddie Ferguson, the fire-rescue chief in Virginia’s Goochland County.

It’s more than 100 miles (160 kilometers) from the Pentagon and more than three times as far from New York.

But a sense of connection is enshrined in a local memorial incorporating steel from the World Trade Center’s destroyed twin towers.

The predominantly rural county of 25,000 people holds not just one but two anniversary commemorations: a morning service focused on first responders and an evening ceremony honoring all the victims.

Other communities across the country pay tribute with moments of silence, tolling bells, candlelight vigils and other activities.

In Columbus, Indiana, 911 dispatchers broadcast a remembrance message to police, fire and EMS radios throughout the 50,000-person city, which also holds a public memorial ceremony.

Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts raise and lower the flag at a commemoration in Fenton, Missouri, where a “Heroes Memorial” includes a piece of World Trade Center steel and a plaque honoring 9/11 victim Jessica Leigh Sachs.

Some of her relatives live in the St. Louis suburb of 4,000 residents.

“We’re just a little bitty community,” said Mayor Joe Maurath, "but it’s important for us to continue to remember these events. Not just 9/11, but all of the events that make us free.”

New Jersey’s Monmouth County, which was home to some 9/11 victims, made Sept. 11 a holiday this year for county employees so they could attend commemorations.

As another way of marking the anniversary, many Americans do volunteer work on what Congress has designated both Patriot Day and a National Day of Service and Remembrance.

At ground zero, Vice President Kamala Harris is due to join the ceremony on the National September 11 Memorial & Museum plaza.

The event will not feature remarks from political figures, instead giving the podium to victims’ relatives for an hourslong reading of the names of the dead.

James Giaccone signed up to read again this year in memory of his brother, Joseph Giaccone, 43. The family attends the ceremony every year to hear Joseph’s name.

“If their name is spoken out loud, they don’t disappear,” James Giaccone said in a recent interview.

The commemoration is crucial to him.

“I hope I never see the day when they minimize this,” he said. “It’s a day that changed history.”

Biden, a Democrat, will be the first president to commemorate Sept. 11 in Alaska, or anywhere in the western U.S.

He and his predecessors have gone to one or another of the attack sites in most years, though Republican George W. Bush and Democrat Barack Obama each marked the anniversary on the White House lawn at times.

Obama followed one of those observances by recognizing the military with a visit to Fort Meade in Maryland.

First lady Jill Biden is due to lay a wreath at the 9/11 memorial at the Pentagon.

In Pennsylvania, where one of the hijacked jets crashed after passengers tried to storm the cockpit, a remembrance and wreath-laying is scheduled at the Flight 93 National Memorial in Stoystown operated by the National Park Service.

Harris’ husband, Doug Emhoff, is expected to attend the ceremony.

The memorial site will offer a new educational video, virtual tour and other materials for teachers to use in classrooms.

Educators with a total of more than 10,000 students have registered for access to the free “National Day of Learning” program, which will be available through the fall, organizers say.

“We need to get the word out to the next generation,” said memorial spokesperson Katherine Hostetler, a National Park Service ranger.

[period-dramallama]

Review: Katherine by Anya Seton

I know I know I said I would have time at the end of last year, but then I got bitten by a plot bunny and after that I had my annual New Year holiday at my mum’s, AND THEN I got bitten by another plot bunny…

TLDR: an enjoyable read, but my high expectations were disappointed.

The plot

At times the novel was very slow, but it felt slice-of-life looking at different aspects of the 14th century: the plague, jousts, pilgrimage, murder, the Peasant’s Revolt. The title ‘Katherine’ is rather misleading because the world around her is much more interesting than she is, frankly. And while the pace is slow, the murder of [SPOILER] is a good source of dramatic irony: waiting for the characters to find out the terrible secret.

You can see the seeds of the dynastic dispute that will become the Wars of the Roses: Mortimer thinking that his descendants by Philippa will get the throne sooner than John’s descendants. Cob’s subplot with Katherine was good.

Also good on Anya for not lazily confusing her history and remembering that the young Hotspur of Shakespeare is not the same as the historical dude, who was much older than Harry of Monmouth. It was good to see Hotspur, although I think his fame from Shakespeare is probably the reason he’s in the book. At times the book is like a who’s who of 14th century England: Katherine meets Julian of Norwich. It’s also fun to see Chaucer and the references to his work and historical people influencing his writing. I liked his perspective on the Peasants’ Revolt: he’s hidden in his rooms, passing the time with his stories, so he comes out to see the destruction like that gif of the man who enters the burning living room with pizza.

Gaunt confronts the archbishop at St Paul’s and it’s a great set piece.

More Wycliffe and John of Gaunt, please! I loved seeing John of Gaunt use Wycliffe for his own political ends. “John was truly devout in a hearty male way… he believed as his father and mother had believed, so Wyclif had ended by horrifying him.”

Whoever wrote that placard calling Gaunt a Flemish changeling…truly the winner of the Darwin Award. My guy, at least disguise your handwriting.

I did get a sense of the importance of religion to medieval people, which was good:

“What then was certain? What was there that would not shift and veer at the mercy of the winds of feeling?”

“Sanctity, the clergy said. Prayer. The practice of religion. The benevolence of the holy saints. The Grace of God.”

“He had not pointed out that the devil’s hand with the five fingers of lechery gripped a man by the lions, to throw him into the furnace of Hell.”

The action scenes, for want of a better phrase, are also well-written: “But on the second course he shattered the boy’s spear and, though his own lance point was broken off by the shock, he swerved Morel and, coolly slanting the butt of his lance into the boy’s armpit- beneath the breastplate, lifted him from his saddle and deposited him on the ground.”

The writing

“During the time of terror and hideous death there had been no dignity of mourning, and now in the honours done the Duchess they could weep quietly for their own dead, too.”

The plague sequence was well written: atmospheric, full of doom and dread.

Sometimes the writing was….IMHO, bordering on the silly. “Lay bathed in a moony light” “the blue Percy lions on their surcoats jigged in and out with their fierce breathings.” Anya, baby, don’t write under the influence. It’s not a good idea.

The medieval songs were a welcome inclusion that made the world feel more real.

There are some good turns of phrase in this book: “He’s swollen with pride and no doubt March has been puffing it with the hot air of promises.”

“Bloodshed-“ the friar smiled faintly. “Blood is all you knights understand.”

“There’s still the bishops! May the devil’s pitchforks prick their fat rumps until they’ve bled out all the gold!”

“like released bowstrings, the two hundred diners jumped to their feet and waited.”

Anya writes crowds and the mood of crowds well, she is good at depicting mass hysteria and mob mentality. “Already a dozen heads had rolled into the central gutter, which ran crimson. Vultures and kites perched high above on the house gables, watching as intently as the crowd did.”

There are some lovely expressions of emotion. “Humility struck Katherine, even shame that she had dared to expect love from such a man as this.” “Am I then nothing of myself? She thought with anguish. Can I not live apart from memories of him”

There’s humorous moments too. “The excited fishmonger had just caught sight of Katherine standing like a church statue beyond his angry wife.” “She held out a fat dimpled hand so loaded with diamonds that Katherine, as she curtsied, could scarce find space to kiss.” “There he may cool his ardours by taming the Scots, who are rampaging as usual. God bless them.” “They were recounting with relish the horrors of the revolt in London two months ago, while a Norfolk man insisted that they had had a worse time of it up here than any Londoner could know.” “Five children stood by a thatched stable which enclosed crudely painted homemade figures of the nativity, and loudly disputed whether the Baby were smiling or not.”

The characters

Take a shot every time Katherine’s beauty is mentioned or described. You will pass out.  There are fewer references to her beauty as the book goes on.

“She had beauty still, the thinness of her flesh but exposed the grace of her bones and sinews.”

…mostly fewer references.

“He reached out his finger to touch the white streaks at her temples. “Age on you has but added swan’s wings to your fairness,” he said wryly, “while I’m grizzled and hacked like an old badger.”

I said FEWER references, not none.

“They stared at each other in a struggle that racked them both, and she clung to the sudden enmity between them as a shield.” “They stood looking at each other, breathing as though they raced with time.”

The chemistry between John and Katherine has promise, but the development of the attraction is pretty thin. There is attraction between them but at almost halfway through the book, I still didn’t get what Katherine’s appeal was to him, apart from her beauty. She’s the main character, yet I didn’t get a sense of a personality. Philippa ‘Pica’ Chaucer might be brash and grating to the people around her, but at least I could describe her to you. What’s Katherine’s personality? Um…she’s beautiful? She’s a controlling parent to Blanchette? She’s a loyal friend to Blanche? And….um…yeah.

John goes from desiring Katherine to suddenly saying he loves her: it’s a very abrupt change in his feelings.

“Inclination and good taste” prevent Katherine from interfering in politics. It’s “men’s business” and she’s framed as better than that meddling realm-ruiner Alice Perrers (boo!hiss!)

It might seem hypocritical of me to criticise Katherine being apolitical- didn’t I just say I wanted Katherine to have more personality and now she has a definable personality trait I’m criticising it for not being the personality I wanted?

But I do think it’s a missed opportunity. Yes, I’m biased, I like scheming women, but I really do think it would be a more interesting book if Katherine paid attention to John of Gaunt’s activities, maybe even advised him. It would serve as a window into John of Gaunt, who he is, what drives him. There’s nothing wrong with wanting the quiet life but it does make Katherine rather passive. Dozens and dozens of pages go by without Katherine and the duke interacting. Their reunion at the end is lovely, but it would be even better if their relationship was well-developed. “This castle was his, the bread she ate, the clothes she wore came from his bounty. Like the hundreds in his retinue, like his children, like this young squire who stood waiting respectfully before her, she had no course but submission.” I like the realism of this passage, but again, it does feel like a missed opportunity to get closer to John of Gaunt’s inner workings. There is a scene where John confides in Katherine by her coaxing, and it’s a pleasant scene, but it’s all the more frustrating because it’s the only time. “His need for her deepened, he talked to her more freely about all his concerns, and he kept her with him constantly, showing her many public as well as private signs of his love.”

That’s the good stuff! I don’t want that information in passing, I want to see it happen! That’s what I want to read! Not Reminder no. 312 that Katherine Is Beautiful!

(Maybe this is a sign that I should be reading a novel about Alice Perrers instead. Or writing one? Eyes emoji.)

“But by night, sometimes she was with him in dreams. In these dreams there was love between them, tenderness greater than there had really been. She awoke from these with her body throbbing and a sense of agonising loss.” I was struck by the nuance and the pessimism of this passage. It was a different kind of love story than I had expected from a ‘classic romance’.

“She was no longer simply ‘Katherine’ she must adjust again to the various labels that the world would give her, and the demands fair and unfair that it would make.”

That’s great but I still don’t know who Katherine IS beneath all these labels!!

I did like this moment with Katherine during the Peasants’ Revolt. Anya astutely summarised some historical truths: she gets it right where Margaret Mitchell got it wrong:

“A good manor lord cares for his serfs,” she continued. “He gives them ale feasts and alms. In time of trouble he protects them, feeds them, and he administers justice for them that they have not the understanding to do for themselves. They’re like his children.”

The friar gave his rare chuckle. “You voice the arguments for slavery that are old as Babylon and have satisfied many. There are however others who prefer freedom to any benefits – I don’t know,” he added half to himself, “what is God’s law.”  

I was not expecting Katherine to imprison her daughter for disobedience, especially as the real Blanchette seems to have died younger.

(However, espousing the views of the time is still not a personality.)

“Katherine, who was always just, stroked the dark curls.” Always just??? Anya?? My sister in Christ, she bullied Blanchette into marriage, that’s not just!!

Anya definitely has Opinions about gender roles. Katherine’s femininity is Good and Modest and Natural, Richard’s femininity is Sinister and Unnatural.

“Ay, there was perversion of all sorts dwelling behind those tinted beardless cheeks, the gold-powdered curls, the tall slender body that bore itself so haughtily in violet brocade which gave forth a wave of scent as he passed.”

“Next came a giggling, mincing group of young men in skintight hose that showed their thighs, and more, and who wore velvet shoes with points half a yard long – Richard’s contemporaries and cronies.”

Why is literally everyone in this novel more interesting than Katherine? This novel is like a bagel: a hearty ring, but the centre is a hole, a void.

[une-sanz-pluis]

I was curious about a footnote in James Hamilton Wylie's The Reign of Henry V, Volume II (1415-1416), where he corrects the tendency of 19th century writers to mistranslate Gesta Henrici Quinti's account of Richard Courtenay's death or present Henry V as performing or helping the clergy perform extreme unction. So I decided to look up the full versions of the accounts.

The thing that struck me is just how... well, tender, these accounts of Courtenay's death are, as well as the whole "he was acting the role of the churchman" thing.

First, we have Harris Nicholas' The History of the Battle of Agincourt (1833) which is, in part, a translation of the Gesta Henrici Vita. I've already posted the more modern translation of the passage, but these are the notable sections:

"Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, who died on the 15th September … having received from Henry's own hands the last offices of religion and friendship"

"the King, who covered his feet with extreme unction..."

James Endell Tyler, Henry of Monmouth (1838):

Whilst Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, one of the victims of the dysentery, was lingering in the agonies of death, we find Henry in the midst of his besieging army, at the height of a very severe struggle, war and disease raging on every side, not in a council of his officers, planning the operations of tomorrow, nor on his couch, giving his body and mind repose from the fatigues and excitement of his opening campaign, but we see him on his knees at the deathbed of a dying minister of religion, joining in the offices of the church so long as the waning spirit could partake of its consolations ; and then not commissioning others, however faithful representatives they might have been, to act in his stead, but by his own hands soothing the sufferings of the dying prelate, and striving to make the struggle of his latter moments less bitter. Had Henry visited the tent of the good Bishop when he first knew of his malady, and charged any of his numerous retinue to pay especial attention to his wants and comforts, it would have been regarded, at such an hour of pressing emergence, as an act worthy of a Christian King. But Henry, who in no department of his public duties ever willingly deputed to others what he could personally attend to himself, carried the same principle into the exercise of the charities of private life ; and has here left a pattern of Christian sympathy and lowliness of mind, of genuine philanthropy, and the sincere affection of true friendship, worthy of prince and peasant alike to imitate. Bishop Courtenay is said to have been among Henry's chosen friends, recommended to him by the singular qualities of his head and his heart. He was a person (we are told) endowed with intellectual and moral excellences of a very high character ; and Henry knew how to appreciate the value, and cultivate the friendship, of such a man. Having enjoyed the satisfaction and benefit of his society in life, now, when he was on the point of quitting this world for ever, Henry never withdrew from his bed ; but, watching him with tender anxiety till the ministers of religion had solemnized the last rite according to the prevailing practice of the church in those days, even then, " in his own person," he continued to supply the wants of sinking mortality, "with his own hands wiping the chilled feet" of his dying friend. The manuscript proceeds to say, that, when life was extinct, with pious regard for his memory, Henry caused his body to be conveyed to England, and to be honourably buried among the royal corpses in Westminster.

George Makepeace Towle, The History of Henry the Fifth (1866):

Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Norwich, one of the King's best beloved friends, became a victim of the pestilence. As he lay suffering in his tent, his loving pupil and sovereign came alone to him, and, kneeling by his couch, prayed with him and comforted him. In the presence of death Henry bore himself meekly and with humble heart. He received with tender anxiety the dying words of the venerable prelate, and, with tears of proud hope, pictured to the departing soul the glories which were in store for it. As the end approached, Henry supplied the bishop's wants with affectionate care, and "with his own hands wiped the chilled feet of the dying man." Thus Henry could find time, amid all the anxieties of an active siege, to devote himself to the solemn and tender task of soothing the last hours of a faithful friend.

[alaturkanews]

Here’s What’s Keeping Democrats Up at Night Ahead of the Debate

After weeks of Democratic exuberance surrounding Vice President Kamala Harris’s sudden rise to the presidential nomination, the party’s joyous August has given way to a season of anxiety, as it braces for another nail-biter against former President Donald J. Trump. Asked what should be keeping Democrats up at night, Patrick Murray, who directs the polling institute at Monmouth University, replied…

[favficbirthdays]

Happy Birthday

Dingo (29th March)

Gargoyles

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Christian Paz at Vox:

Look around and you might see it: the telltale signs that the #Resistance has been born again. A-list celebs are rallying for and endorsing Vice President Kamala Harris; Zoom calls of Black, Latino, female, and young voters are reaching capacity; the coconut-tree and brat memes keep coming. Even cringe and earnest #Resist merch is back — now in the form of organic Kamala Harris merch.

The political movement that materialized organically, protested policy decisions, and eventually helped end Donald Trump’s presidency may now be taking on a second political life with the goal of not just beating Trump, but electing the first woman president. None of this was a sure thing. Just a few months ago it looked a lot like the anti-Trump #Resistance was dead. Progressive organizers and activists were exhausted; Trump fatigue had settled in. And voters of all kinds were tuned out and unenthusiastic about the candidate choices they had. That dynamic has flipped — for now. But what remains uncertain is whether this energy can mobilize record numbers of voters like it did in 2020, or if it exists in a bit of an echo chamber, like the energy that fired up Hillary Clinton’s hardcore supporters but failed to produce a winning coalition.

How the #Resistance fell off

The sour vibes earlier this year were a far cry from the energy that dominated during the Trump years. The Resistance was born after the unexpected election of Trump in 2016. The pink hats marched on Washington the day after his inauguration; plenty more college-educated Americans, women, young people, suburban voters, and LGBTQ people were mobilized in those early Trump years to protest the Muslim ban, gun violence, and the separation of families at the southern border. The energy carried on. “Resist libs,” as they were sometimes derisively called by both disapproving leftists and hostile conservatives, voted in record numbers during the 2018 midterms and helped flip the House of Representatives. They rallied around special counsel Robert Mueller’s investigations into Trump and Russia, and they cheered then-Speaker Nancy Pelosi during the first Trump impeachment.

A sprawling Democratic primary field in 2019 helped to keep this cohort of liberal, college-educated, and suburban voters galvanized. By the time the 2020 election came around — and despite the pandemic hampering some of these organizing efforts — the primarily liberal movement had grown along with a loose alliance of disaffected independents and Republicans, progressive youth, and many voters of color to form a winning coalition that ousted Trump from the White House and delivered a Democratic majority in Congress. That movement quickly splintered once Biden won, and those divisions only grew as his presidency continued. The overturning of Roe v. Wade in the summer of 2022 did fuel a short-lived revival, as pro-abortion rights voters and the remnants of the Resistance turned out in that November’s midterms to stop election deniers and anti-abortion candidates, holding back a red wave. But the outbreak of the Gaza War, stubbornly high inflation, and concerns over Biden’s age all worked to tamp down that anti-Trump energy.

[...]

The vibe shift is real

Now with Harris at the top of the ticket, much of the Democratic base has reconsolidated. The enthusiasm that a lot of the media coverage has picked up on is real — specifically among Democrats. Whereas only 62 percent of Democrats were enthusiastic about voting back in February, 88 percent of Democrats say that they are now, according to a CNN comparison of polls by Ipsos and Monmouth University. The switch-up is so dramatic that Democrats are now outpacing Republicans in terms of how excited they are to vote for their party’s nominee.

Of course, part of this bounce back in support can be attributed to just how unhappy Democrats and voters in general were with Biden as the nominee. But there are plenty of signs that a new kind of energy has reanimated the disparate constituencies that make up the Democratic base and were at the heart of the first incarnation of the anti-Trump resistance movement. Within days of Biden dropping out of the race and Harris becoming the presumptive nominee, tens of thousands of Americans have joined organizing calls specifically focused on mobilizing identity groups: 44,000 people joined a “Win With Black Women” Zoom call the same day Biden dropped out; 45,000 joined a “Win With Black Men” call; 164,000 joined a “White Women: Answer the Call” Zoom meeting; similar meetings were organized for white men, for Latina women, and will be held for Latino men.

A revival of the Trump-era #Resistance movement is under new management: The Kamala Harris campaign. #Harris2024 #KamalaIsBrat

[brookston]

Holidays 6.26

Holidays

Alexandra Rose Day

American Lottery Day

Anti Drugs Day (India)

Armed Forces Day (Azerbaijan; UK)

Bar Code Day (a.k.a. UPC Day)

Beautician's Day

Bike to Work Day (Colorado)

Boardwalk Day

Canoe Day

Crimean Tatar National Flag Day (Ukraine)

Festival of the Tarasque (France)

Flag Day (Romania)

Forgiveness Day

Global Africa Day

Good Earth Day

Good Manners Day

Guru Rinpoche Day (Bhutan)

Harry Potter Day

Human Genome Day

International Angel Shark Day

International Day Against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking (UN)

International Day in Support of Victims of Torture (UN)

International Stitch Day

LGBTQ Equality Day

LP Demonstration Day

Murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne Anniversary Day (Batman)

National Beautician’s Day

National Cancer Wellness Awareness Day (Canada)

National Canoe Day (Canada)

National DCE (Director of Christian Education) Day

National Fossil Day (Australia)

National Milkman Day

National Ranboo Day

National Rat Catcher’s Day

National Report Trade Agreement Act Fraud Day

National Sarah Day

National Sports Day (Fiji)

National Toothbrush Day

National Zachary Day

Ommegang Pageant begins (Belgium) [Ends 7.6]

Pied Piper of Hamelin Day (according to the Brothers Grimm)

Prosecutor’s Office Employees Day (Belarus)

Public Prosecutors’ Day (Turkmenistan)

Reserves Day (UK)

Same Sex Marriage Day

Senior Citizen’s Day (Mason County, Michigan)

Shallot Day (French Republic)

Shreya Ghoshai Day (Ohio)

626 Day (Lilo & Stitch)

Sunthorn Phu Day (Thailand)

Supply Chain Geek Day

Support. Don’t Punish. Global Day of Action.

UN Charter Day

World Bunny Chow Day

World Nupe Day (Nigeria)

World Refrigeration Day

Wrong Trousers Day (Wallace & Gromit)

Ziua Tricolorului (Flag Day; Romania)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Chocolate Pudding Day

National Coconut Day

National Haskap Berry Day

Tropical Cocktails Day

Independence & Related Days

Batanes Day (Philippines)

Madagascar (from France, 1960)

Schwanensee (Swan Lake; Declared; 2009) [unrecognized]

Somaliland (from UK; 1960)

St. George (Principality Declared; 2007) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Wednesday in June

National Day of Joy [Last Wednesday]

National Parchment Day [Last Wednesday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 26 (4th Full Week)

Glastonbury Festival (thru 6.30) [Last Weekend]

National Tire Safety Week (thru 7.2)

Festivals Beginning June 26, 2024

Beauregard Parish Watermelon Festival (DeRidder, Louisiana) [thru 6.29]

Carnival of Veracruz (Veracruz, Mexico) [thru 7.2]

Flavors of Albany Park (Chicago, Illinois)

Fusion Festival (Lärz, Germany) [thru 6.30]

Glastonbury Festival (Pilton, United Kingdom) [thru 6.30]

Linn County Fair (Central City, Iowa) [thru 6.30]

Monmouth Fair (Monmouth, Maine) [thru 6.29]

Niort Jazz Festival (Niort, France) [thru 6.28]

Seoul International Book Fair (Seoul, South Korea) [thru 6.30]

Smithsonian Folklife Festival (Washington, DC) [thru 7.1]

Sun Valley Center Wine Auction (Sun Valley, Idaho) [thru 6.28]

VidCon Anaheim (Anaheim, California) [thru 6.29]

Feast Days

Anthelm of Belley (Christian; Saint)

Archie McPhee Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Branwell Brontë (Artology)

Carbonara Day (Pastafarian)

Centre Earth Secret Entrance Reveal Day (Mount Scartaris; Ancient Iceland)

Corn-Ripening Ceremony (Native American Corn Mothers)

Daoud Corm (Artology)

David the Dendrite (Christian; Saint)

El Cid (Positivist; Saint)

Enzo Apicella (Artology)

Feast of All Saints

Feast of Salavi (Spruce Tree Rain God; Native American)

Handing Back of Tiger-Get-By’s Presents (Shamanism)

Hermogius (Christian; Saint)

Isabel Florence Hapgood (Episcopal Church)

Jack (Muppetism)

Jan Paweł Lelewel (Artology)

Jeremiah (Lutheran)

John and Paul (Christian; Martyrs)

John of the Goths (Christian; Saint)

José María Robles Hurtado (One of Saints of the Cristero War; Christian)

Josemaría Escrivá (Christian; Saint)

Lev Grossman (Writerism)

Lynd Ward (Artology)

Mar Abhai (Syriac Orthodox Church)

Maria (Muppetism)

Maxentius (Christian; Saint)

Milton Glaser (Artology)

Pearl S. Buck (Writerism)

Pelagius of Córdoba (Christian; Saint)

Pelayo (Christian; Saint)

Salvius and Superius (a.k.a. Suave; Christian; Saints)

Solstitium I (Pagan)

Summer Poem Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Vigilius of Trent (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

After the Rain, by Nelson (Album; 1990)

Arctic Antics (Silly Symphony Cartoon; 1930)

Baby, I Love Your Way, by Peter Frampton (Song; 1976)

The Bear and the Hare (MGM Cartoon; 1948)

The Big Clock, by Kenneth Fearing (Novel; 1946)

Darby O’Gill and the Little People (Film; 1959)

Delta of Venus, by Anaïs Nin (Short Stories; 1977)

Die Walküre (The Valkyrie), by Richard Wagner (Opera; 1870) [Ring of the Nibelung #2]

Donald in Mathematic Land (Disney Cartoon; 1959)

The Dower House Mystery, by Patricia Wentworth (Novel; 1925)

Dragonslayer (Film; 1981)

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (Film; 2020)

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, by Hunter S. Thompson (Political Book; 1973)

For Your Eyes Only (US Film; 1981) [James Bond #12]

Freeway Fracas (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1964)

Full Metal Jacket (Film; 1987)

The Gold Rush (Charlie Chaplin Film; 1925)

Goo, by Sonic Youth (Album; 1990)

The Great Muppet Caper (Film; 1981)

A Hard Day’s Night, by The Beatles (Album; 1964)

The Hurt Locker (Film; 2009)

Illustrated Daily News (Daily Newspaper; 1919) [1st illustrated daily newspaper in U.S.]

I Wanna Be a Lifeguard (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1936)

Jean de Florette (Film; 1987)

Little Rover (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1935)

The Lottery, by Shirley Jackson (Short Story; 1948)

The Mad King (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1932)

Muzzle Tough (WB MM Cartoon; 1954)

My Spy (Film; 2020)

Never a Dull Moment (Film; 1968)

The Nine Lives of Fritz the Cat (Animated Film; 1973)

Out of Sight (Film; 1998)

The Philosopher’s Stone (a.k.a. Sorcerer's Stone), by J.K. Rowling (Novel; 1997) [Harry Potter #1]

Pink-A-Boo (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1966)

Spaceballs (Film; 1987)

Sparky the Firefly (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1953)

The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (Film; 1952)

Stripes (Film; 1981)

Suffering’ Cats (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1961)

Sweet Sioux (WB MM Cartoon; 1937)

Symphony No. 9, by Gustav Mahler (Symphony; 1912)

Tax Man Tax (Money Rock Cartoon; Schoolhouse Rock; 1995)

Ted 2 (Film; 2015)

Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake (Novel; 1946) [Gormenghast #1]

A Tough Egg (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1936)

Who Let the Dogs Out, by the Baha Men (Album; 2000)

Wilful Willie (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1942)

Yankee Doddle Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1943)

Today’s Name Days

Anthelm, Vigilius (Austria)

David (Bulgaria)

Ivan, Pavao, Vigilije, Zoran (Croatia)

Adriana (Czech Republic)

Pelagius (Denmark)

Manivald, Vaane, Vaano, Vaino, Vane, Vanevald (Estonia)

Jarkko, Jarmo, Jarno, Jere, Jeremias, Jorma (Finland)

Anthelme (France)

David, Konstantin, Paul, Vigil (Germany)

Makarios (Greece)

János, Pál (Hungary)

Elisa, Filippo, Rodolfo, Vigilio (Italy)

Ausma, Dzejs, Ingūna, Inguns, Ulvis (Latvia)

Jaunius, Jaunutis, Viltautė, Virgilijus (Lithuania)

Jenny, Jonny (Norway)

Jan, Jeremi, Jeremiasz, Paweł, Zdziwoj (Poland)

David (România)

Adriána (Slovakia)

José, Pelayo (Spain)

Lea, Rakel (Sweden)

Arley, Harlan, Harlene, Harley, Thelma (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 178 of 2024; 188 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 18 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 21 (Xin-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 20 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 19 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 28 Blue; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 13 June 2024

Moon: 72%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 9 Charlemagne (7th Month) [El Cid]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 7 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 6 of 31)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 6.26

Holidays

Alexandra Rose Day

American Lottery Day

Anti Drugs Day (India)

Armed Forces Day (Azerbaijan; UK)

Bar Code Day (a.k.a. UPC Day)

Beautician's Day

Bike to Work Day (Colorado)

Boardwalk Day

Canoe Day

Crimean Tatar National Flag Day (Ukraine)

Festival of the Tarasque (France)

Flag Day (Romania)

Forgiveness Day

Global Africa Day

Good Earth Day

Good Manners Day

Guru Rinpoche Day (Bhutan)

Harry Potter Day

Human Genome Day

International Angel Shark Day

International Day Against Drug Abuse and Illicit Trafficking (UN)

International Day in Support of Victims of Torture (UN)

International Stitch Day

LGBTQ Equality Day

LP Demonstration Day

Murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne Anniversary Day (Batman)

National Beautician’s Day

National Cancer Wellness Awareness Day (Canada)

National Canoe Day (Canada)

National DCE (Director of Christian Education) Day

National Fossil Day (Australia)

National Milkman Day

National Ranboo Day

National Rat Catcher’s Day

National Report Trade Agreement Act Fraud Day

National Sarah Day

National Sports Day (Fiji)

National Toothbrush Day

National Zachary Day

Ommegang Pageant begins (Belgium) [Ends 7.6]

Pied Piper of Hamelin Day (according to the Brothers Grimm)

Prosecutor’s Office Employees Day (Belarus)

Public Prosecutors’ Day (Turkmenistan)

Reserves Day (UK)

Same Sex Marriage Day

Senior Citizen’s Day (Mason County, Michigan)

Shallot Day (French Republic)

Shreya Ghoshai Day (Ohio)

626 Day (Lilo & Stitch)

Sunthorn Phu Day (Thailand)

Supply Chain Geek Day

Support. Don’t Punish. Global Day of Action.

UN Charter Day

World Bunny Chow Day

World Nupe Day (Nigeria)

World Refrigeration Day

Wrong Trousers Day (Wallace & Gromit)

Ziua Tricolorului (Flag Day; Romania)

Food & Drink Celebrations

Chocolate Pudding Day

National Coconut Day

National Haskap Berry Day

Tropical Cocktails Day

Independence & Related Days

Batanes Day (Philippines)

Madagascar (from France, 1960)

Schwanensee (Swan Lake; Declared; 2009) [unrecognized]

Somaliland (from UK; 1960)

St. George (Principality Declared; 2007) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Wednesday in June

National Day of Joy [Last Wednesday]

National Parchment Day [Last Wednesday]

Weekly Holidays beginning June 26 (4th Full Week)

Glastonbury Festival (thru 6.30) [Last Weekend]

National Tire Safety Week (thru 7.2)

Festivals Beginning June 26, 2024

Beauregard Parish Watermelon Festival (DeRidder, Louisiana) [thru 6.29]

Carnival of Veracruz (Veracruz, Mexico) [thru 7.2]

Flavors of Albany Park (Chicago, Illinois)

Fusion Festival (Lärz, Germany) [thru 6.30]

Glastonbury Festival (Pilton, United Kingdom) [thru 6.30]

Linn County Fair (Central City, Iowa) [thru 6.30]

Monmouth Fair (Monmouth, Maine) [thru 6.29]

Niort Jazz Festival (Niort, France) [thru 6.28]

Seoul International Book Fair (Seoul, South Korea) [thru 6.30]

Smithsonian Folklife Festival (Washington, DC) [thru 7.1]

Sun Valley Center Wine Auction (Sun Valley, Idaho) [thru 6.28]

VidCon Anaheim (Anaheim, California) [thru 6.29]

Feast Days

Anthelm of Belley (Christian; Saint)

Archie McPhee Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Branwell Brontë (Artology)

Carbonara Day (Pastafarian)

Centre Earth Secret Entrance Reveal Day (Mount Scartaris; Ancient Iceland)

Corn-Ripening Ceremony (Native American Corn Mothers)

Daoud Corm (Artology)

David the Dendrite (Christian; Saint)

El Cid (Positivist; Saint)

Enzo Apicella (Artology)

Feast of All Saints

Feast of Salavi (Spruce Tree Rain God; Native American)

Handing Back of Tiger-Get-By’s Presents (Shamanism)

Hermogius (Christian; Saint)

Isabel Florence Hapgood (Episcopal Church)

Jack (Muppetism)

Jan Paweł Lelewel (Artology)

Jeremiah (Lutheran)

John and Paul (Christian; Martyrs)

John of the Goths (Christian; Saint)

José María Robles Hurtado (One of Saints of the Cristero War; Christian)

Josemaría Escrivá (Christian; Saint)

Lev Grossman (Writerism)

Lynd Ward (Artology)

Mar Abhai (Syriac Orthodox Church)

Maria (Muppetism)

Maxentius (Christian; Saint)

Milton Glaser (Artology)

Pearl S. Buck (Writerism)

Pelagius of Córdoba (Christian; Saint)

Pelayo (Christian; Saint)

Salvius and Superius (a.k.a. Suave; Christian; Saints)

Solstitium I (Pagan)

Summer Poem Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Vigilius of Trent (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

After the Rain, by Nelson (Album; 1990)

Arctic Antics (Silly Symphony Cartoon; 1930)

Baby, I Love Your Way, by Peter Frampton (Song; 1976)

The Bear and the Hare (MGM Cartoon; 1948)

The Big Clock, by Kenneth Fearing (Novel; 1946)

Darby O’Gill and the Little People (Film; 1959)

Delta of Venus, by Anaïs Nin (Short Stories; 1977)

Die Walküre (The Valkyrie), by Richard Wagner (Opera; 1870) [Ring of the Nibelung #2]

Donald in Mathematic Land (Disney Cartoon; 1959)

The Dower House Mystery, by Patricia Wentworth (Novel; 1925)

Dragonslayer (Film; 1981)

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (Film; 2020)

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72, by Hunter S. Thompson (Political Book; 1973)

For Your Eyes Only (US Film; 1981) [James Bond #12]

Freeway Fracas (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1964)

Full Metal Jacket (Film; 1987)

The Gold Rush (Charlie Chaplin Film; 1925)

Goo, by Sonic Youth (Album; 1990)

The Great Muppet Caper (Film; 1981)

A Hard Day’s Night, by The Beatles (Album; 1964)

The Hurt Locker (Film; 2009)

Illustrated Daily News (Daily Newspaper; 1919) [1st illustrated daily newspaper in U.S.]

I Wanna Be a Lifeguard (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1936)

Jean de Florette (Film; 1987)

Little Rover (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1935)

The Lottery, by Shirley Jackson (Short Story; 1948)

The Mad King (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1932)

Muzzle Tough (WB MM Cartoon; 1954)

My Spy (Film; 2020)

Never a Dull Moment (Film; 1968)

The Nine Lives of Fritz the Cat (Animated Film; 1973)

Out of Sight (Film; 1998)

The Philosopher’s Stone (a.k.a. Sorcerer's Stone), by J.K. Rowling (Novel; 1997) [Harry Potter #1]

Pink-A-Boo (Pink Panther Cartoon; 1966)

Spaceballs (Film; 1987)

Sparky the Firefly (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1953)

The Story of Robin Hood and His Merrie Men (Film; 1952)

Stripes (Film; 1981)

Suffering’ Cats (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1961)

Sweet Sioux (WB MM Cartoon; 1937)

Symphony No. 9, by Gustav Mahler (Symphony; 1912)

Tax Man Tax (Money Rock Cartoon; Schoolhouse Rock; 1995)

Ted 2 (Film; 2015)

Titus Groan, by Mervyn Peake (Novel; 1946) [Gormenghast #1]

A Tough Egg (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1936)

Who Let the Dogs Out, by the Baha Men (Album; 2000)

Wilful Willie (Terrytoons Cartoons; 1942)

Yankee Doddle Mouse (Tom & Jerry Cartoon; 1943)

Today’s Name Days

Anthelm, Vigilius (Austria)

David (Bulgaria)

Ivan, Pavao, Vigilije, Zoran (Croatia)

Adriana (Czech Republic)

Pelagius (Denmark)

Manivald, Vaane, Vaano, Vaino, Vane, Vanevald (Estonia)

Jarkko, Jarmo, Jarno, Jere, Jeremias, Jorma (Finland)

Anthelme (France)

David, Konstantin, Paul, Vigil (Germany)

Makarios (Greece)

János, Pál (Hungary)

Elisa, Filippo, Rodolfo, Vigilio (Italy)

Ausma, Dzejs, Ingūna, Inguns, Ulvis (Latvia)

Jaunius, Jaunutis, Viltautė, Virgilijus (Lithuania)

Jenny, Jonny (Norway)

Jan, Jeremi, Jeremiasz, Paweł, Zdziwoj (Poland)

David (România)

Adriána (Slovakia)

José, Pelayo (Spain)

Lea, Rakel (Sweden)

Arley, Harlan, Harlene, Harley, Thelma (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 178 of 2024; 188 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 3 of week 26 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Duir (Oak) [Day 18 of 28]

Chinese: Month 5 (Geng-Wu), Day 21 (Xin-You)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 20 Sivan 5784

Islamic: 19 Dhu al-Hijjah 1445

J Cal: 28 Blue; Sevenday [28 of 30]

Julian: 13 June 2024

Moon: 72%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 9 Charlemagne (7th Month) [El Cid]

Runic Half Month: Feoh (Wealth) [Day 3 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 7 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of June)

Zodiac: Cancer (Day 6 of 31)