#begining of the end of constantinople

[richo1915]

The activities of the Venetian residents in Constantinople could be watched and to some extent controlled. The Genoese colony of Galata across the Golden Horn was an autonomous enclave beyond the control of the emperor and his officials, setting its own tariffs and collecting its own dues. In 1348 it was estimated that the annual revenue of Galata was nearly seven times that of Constantinople.

When, as a matter of form, the Genoese asked permission to enlarge and refortify their settlement the emperor refused. They took no notice and did as they wished.

The Venetians were jealous. They had never acquired the kind of independent status which the Genoese enjoyed at Galata. Before they could take any action, however, a catastrophe of global dimensions struck the just and the unjust alike.

In 1346 Bubonic Plague, known as the Black Death, swept the world from east to west. This too had its origins in the Crimea.

Tradition links it with the Tatar siege of Caffa in 1346. From there the plague was carried by the rats on Italian ships. It reached Constantinople and then Trebizond in the summer of 1347. By the end of the year it had reached Marseille; and by March 1348 it had spread to Venice.

Demographically the Black Death was one of the greatest disasters in human history. Statistics are hard to come by. The fullest and most literary account of its effects in Constantinople and the Byzantine world is that given by the Emperor John Cantacuzene in the memoirs that he wrote later in his long life. His youngest son was a victim. But he gives no figures, no roll-call of the dead; and his description of the symptoms and the suffering is derived sometimes word for word from the celebrated account written by Thucydides of the plague at Athens in the time of Pericles.

His contemporary Gregoras rightly records that the infection was brought to Constantinople from the Scythian or Tatar country of Lake Maiotis or the Sea of Azov.

The Black Death left its survivors, in the east and in the west, in a state of shock, of nervous apprehension that it would return, as it did, though in less virulent form, on several occasions in the next hundred years.

In Constantinople and the few remaining provinces of the Byzantine Empire it came at the end of a civil war which had already made normal life impossible. The treasury was empty; the fields and vineyards in Thrace had been devastated in the fighting, not least by the Turkish troops that both sides had engaged to fight their battles. The capital city was falling into ruins and the money could not be found for its upkeep.

[mydeaddad]

"asoiaf is based off the middle ages, they should be wearing this! [posts 16th century fashion]"

?

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Jaroslav Cermak (Czech, 1831-1878) Montenegrin Women in a Harem, 1877 National Gallery Prague Slavery gave rise to the figure of the Odalisque, that is the beautiful, white slave girl, a figure of quintessential beauty. In the late 18th century Johann Friedrich Blumenbach, the father of physical anthropology, the father of scientific anthropology, an 18th century German scholar, assigned the name Caucasian to the people living in western Europe, to the River Ob in Russia to northern Africa, and to India. He called the people in Europe, over to India, well into Russia and North Africa, Caucasians because they were the most beautiful in the world. Blumenbach enjoyed a scholarly reputation that gave his designation enormous heft and it got picked up very quickly. Immanuel Kant stated that the Caucasians, the Georgians, the Circassians, sell their children, particularly their girls to the Turks, the Arabs, and the Persians, for reasons of eugenics, that is, to beautify the race. Before the Atlantic slave trade to the western hemisphere shaped our ideas about what slave trades are all about, there was slave trade from this part of the world, that goes back to before the reaches of time. Herodotus writing in the fifth century BC, writing about the enumeration of taxes and tributes paid to the Persian kingdom, collected from the lands it had controlled and the lands even far away in the distance. He said that the voluntary contribution was taken from the Colchians, that is the Georgians, and the neighboring tribes between them and the Caucasus, and it consisted of and still consists of (that is in the 5th century BC) every fourth year 100 boys and 100 girls. This was before Herodotus could even see the beginnings of it. Herodotus also mentioned the tribute from the southern most part of the edges of the Persian world and that was for the people called Ethiopians, what they owed was gold and ivory, people were not mentioned. So, the Black Sea Slave trade was the slave trade in the western world until the 15th century when the Ottomans captured Constantinople and cut the Black Sea off from western Europe. At that point, 15th century, the Atlantic slave trade becomes the western slave trade. Daniel Edward Clarke, our Cambridge don, also located Circassian beauty, in the enslaved. “The Cicassians frequently sell their children to strangers, particularly to Persians and Turkish Seraglios.” He speaks of one particular Circassian female who was 14, who was conscious of her great beauty, who feared her parents would sell her according to the custom of the country. The beautiful young slave girl became a figure, and she had a name; Odalisque. She combines the powerful notions of beauty, sex, and slavery. Ingres, Jerome, Powers and Matisse specialized in Odalisque paintings. The figure of the Odalisque faded from memory as the Black Sea slave trade ended in the late 19th century, and the Atlantic slave trade overshadowed that from the Black Sea. Today, the word slavery invariably leads to people of African descent. Americans seldom associate the word Odalisque with with slavery in the Americas. Today many American painters use Odalisque figures, Michalene Thomas for instance who has done a series of what she calls American Odalisque. But the phrase and the figure of the Odalisque has lost its association with slavery. And now in American art history and in contemporary American art, Odalisque simply refers to a beautiful woman, usually unclothed. If you want to learn more, listen to professor Nell Painter of Princeton University in the YT lecture “Why White People are Called Caucasian.”

[hungwy]

Some facts about my birthday (October 29):

1390: First trials of witchcraft in Paris

1618: Walter Raleigh, colonialist statesman, soldier, and explorer, is tried for treason and executed

1682: The founder of Pennsylvania, William Penn, lands at what is now Chester, PA

1740: James Boswell, diarist and biographer, is born

1863: The International Red Cross is formed in Geneva

1882: Jean Giradoux, playwright and novelist, is born

1888: The Convention of Constantinople allows for free maritime passage through the Suez Canal; Li Dazhao, co-founder of the CCP and mentor of Mao, is born

1889: N.G. Chernyshevksy, author of "What is to be done?", dies

1897: Joseph Goebbels, the nazi, is born

1901: Leon Czogolsz, anarchist, is executed for the assassination of William McKinley

1910: A.J. Ayer, logical positivist, is born

1914: The Ottomans enter WWI

1923: The Ottoman Empire dissolves; Turkey becomes a republic through the efforts of Atatürk

1924: Zbigniew Herbert, poet, is born

1929: Black Tuesday, the crash of the New York Stock Exchange and the beginning of the Great Depression

1938: Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, president of Rhodesia, is born; Ralph Bakshi, animator, is born

1940: The US begins its first peacetime military draft

1948: Franz de Waal, ethologist, is born

1949: George Gurdjieff, philosopher and mystic, dies

1956: The Suez Crisis begins

1962: The Beach Boys release "Surfin' Safari"

1967: Musical "Hair" opens off Broadway

1969: The first computer-computer link established on ARPANET

1971: Ma Huateng, co-founder of Tencent, is born; Winona Ryder, actor, is born

1975: Franco's 36-year long leadership of Spain ends

1985: Evgeny Lifshitz, physicist, dies

1991: The spacecraft Galileo makes the first ever visit to an asteroid

1995: Terry Southern, screenwriter of Dr. Strangelove, dies

2004: Al-Jazeera broadcasts Osama Bin Laden taking responsibility for 9/11; European Union leaders sign the first EU constitution

It is the Christian feast day of:

Abraham of Rostov

Blessed Chiara Badano

Colman mac Duagh

The Duai Martyrs

Gaetano Erico

Michele Rua

Narcissus of Jerusalem

Theuderius

It is a public holiday in:

Cambodia (Coronation Day)

Turkey (Republic Day)

It is a private holiday in:

USA (National Cat Day)

Everywhere (my birthday)

[maarigolds]

Since we all know how much of a shitshow umbrella academy s4 was, let's revisit the good old days. Here's my reaction to ep1 s1, which I haven't seen in like 5 years:

We're starting off strong with the sudden pregnancy scene: this is how you get the viewer's attention

Cunty shot of Reggie walking with the seven nannies and the seven baby carriers

Viktor playing the violin while all the other characters are introduced 10/10 stunning no notes

Rehab worker saying "We'll see you soon Klaus" and him immediatly overdosing and being reanimated in the ambulance. Now we know he probably just came back to life by himself!

"You got big, Luther! What's your secret, protein shakes?"

Pogo!!! I missed you, you ape butler!

Baby Viktor leaving sandwitches for Five 🥺🥺🥺

Klaus-Allison alliance going strong since the beginning I see

"Did you see Diego?" "Yeah, with that stupid outfit" "Do you think he wears that thing in the shower?" I love siblings being siblings

Ok I had forgotten about the Allison and Luther thing. Maybe it wasn't ALL great.

"Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?"

"Ok, sorry, I'm just gonna go murder mom, I'll be right back"

Klaus is seriously the best

Bank robbery flashback!!!

"Guns are for sissies! Real men throw knives!"

"That's one badass StApLeR" god I miss five's voice cracks so much

*Ben covered in blood* "Can we go home now?"

Back to the present with Klaus spilling Reggie's ashes lmao

I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW AKA BEST DANCE SCENE IN TV SHOW HISTORY

No seriously Diego absolutely killing it, Luther doing the hand-krabs, Klaus dancing with the urne

And then boom! Five is back! Honestly iconic entrance

Also Klaus trying to stop a temporal anomaly with a fire extinguisher whyyyy lmao

Five interrupting his speech about the future to look Klaus up and down and 100% seriously say "nice dress"

Klaus responding with "ah, danke"

"That makes no sense" "well, it would if you were smarter"

Also unrelated but Viktor being such a shy wallflower in s1... he's come such a long way!!!

Luther throwing reggie's ashes on the ground "probably would have been better with some wind"

Luther and Diego beating the crap out each other. Viktor: "stop it!" Klaus: "hit him!"

Also Klaus trying to protect Five and him having none of it, too cute

"An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, and not one single drop of coffee" "dad hated caffeine" "well he hated children too, and he had plenty of us!"

"Alright, guess I'll see you guys in another ten years, when Pogo dies" Diego please 💀💀

"You know, every time I close my eyes I see a diarrheatic hyppo about to shit on my face" this was robert sheehan improvising and honestly what the fuck how does someone even come up with that

The Istanbul was constantinople fight was honestly art. This was really the moment I knew I would love this show with all of my heart. Also masterful way to show exactly who Five is in just a couple of minutes

BEN!!! I MISS OG BEN SO MUCH!!! He was baby

Five going to Viktor when he needed help. Honestly we should have gotten more of them being besties it was so good

"The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it" and that's how you end a first episode! I'm hooked! Except I'm not cause I know how it ends 🫠

Well this is it. This show was honestly so good in the beginning. I have no clue what happened. At least we'll always have season 1.

[thebat-musicman]

The Playlist™

My 12 hour Batfam playlist (with repeating songs!)

The repeating version has 200 songs and is 12 hours. Non repeating has 167 songs and is 9 hours and 54 minutes.

I am so sorry to whatever poor souls are reading this just trying to find good songs for their faves

@batfambrainrotbeloved it’s done

The bat-playlist from hell is under the cut

Alfred

Be our guest

Let it be

Sweet caroline

You are my sunshine

God is really real

Istanbul (not Constantinople)

50 ways to say goodbye (him faking Bruce’s death when he went training)

What was I made for

No time to die

James Bond theme

I got you

Child of Mine

Little Lion man

You’ll be in my heart

Never grow up

Edelweiss

Baby mine

Friend like me

My heart will go on

Bruce

Never grow up

Everything has changed

I hate it here

I look in people’s windows

imgonnagetyouback

Karma (AJR)

Humpty Dumpty

Inertia

Two birds

Cat’s in the cradle

Song for Orphans

Tears in heaven

Heart of stone

Robin

Whatever it takes

ocean eyes

Migraine

I’ll make a man out of you

Under the Sea

Beautiful Boy (darling boy)

Babs

The story of us

Just a girl

Clara Bow

Role Models

Break my face

The DJ is crying for help

Little miss perfect

She used to be mine

Mastermind

Pretty distraction

So high school

How did it end

Fight song

You should see me in a crown

The man

Runs the world (girls)

I bet you think about me

Inertia

Ours

Part of your world

Dick

I can do it with a broken heart

Touchy feely fool

Never grow up

The Bolter

Surface Pressure

You’re on your own, kid

Because of you

Karma (AJR)

Way less sad

Perfect (simple plan)

Father of mine

This is me trying

Count on me

The Greatest Show

No way

Mr. Perfectly fine

Dancing Queen

Show and Tell

How far I’ll go

Used to be young

Cass

Who’s afraid of little old me

Cassandra

The Albatross

Father of mine

You’re on your own, kid

Heart of stone

Fight song

Everybody wants to rule the world

She used to be mine

Family Line

Because of you

Roar

You should see me in a crown

I won’t

When will my life begin

The prophecy

I hate it here

Speechless

I’ve got a dream

Blackbird

Jason

The Prophecy

Mr. Perfectly fine

Better than Revenge

I did something bad

My tears ricochet

Vigilante shit

You’re gonna go far, kid

Time of dying

Deja vu

good 4 u

Because of you

Father of mine

These boots were made for walking

Fuck you

One way or another

Bang! Pow! Boom!

Be prepared

One jump ahead

Vampire

I think I’m gonna like it here (baby jason needs a song)

Steph

Record Player

Turning out Pt. II

The Dumb Song

Just a girl

Cardigan

The Man

But daddy I love him

the manuscript

Guilty as Sin?

Father of mine

Dead!

Teenagers

You’re on your own, kid

Mr. Perfectly Fine

High school sweethearts

Drama Club

My Play

Devil Town

This is love (air traffic controller)

I won’t say (I’m in love)

Tim

Ur gonna wish u believed me

Yes I’m a mess

Karma (AJR)

Mastermind

Don’t blame me

Fool

Wow, I’m not crazy

Humpty Dumpty

Good 4 u

Pretender (Acoustic)

Mister Cellophane

Come hang out

Let the games begin

Heart of stone

brutal

Deja vu

Every breath you take

The sound of silence

Go the distance

Viva La Vida

Duke

Here comes the sun

Walking on sunshine

I see the light

How do I say goodbye

The Prophecy

Turning out

Sunshine lollipops and rainbows

Teenagers

Our song

Demons

I’m still standing

Waiting on a miracle

I’m not famous

Paper rings

We didn’t start the fire

Everybody dies

What was I made for

I’ll follow the sun

Sunflower

Into the Unknown

Damian

Insane

Oh no!

Surface Pressure

Control

The good part

Role models

Mother knows best

Bad guy

What else can I do

Devil Town

Bones

Rät

Maniac

Losing my religion

(Don’t fear) The Reaper

Heathens

Pumped up kicks

Go the distance

A whole new world

I just can’t wait to be king

[sgiandubh]

A tale of two brands

Sophie Mancini's Departures paper on S in NY started a flurry of comments even before the whole content was made available on blogs. That people - mostly in Mordor - jumped in to add their two booing cents on the matter, based on two or three Instagram Story screencaps only, is a testimony to Tumblr's community deep interest in S's slightest PR/sales move and the easiness with which people like *urv managed to push their own agenda, in the process, to her unsuspecting, bicep-loving crowd.

Many of these comments asked just one question, more or less kindly and more or less openly: who are you, Sam Roland Heughan? Some of them, more along my alley, took a different angle: who are you talking to, Sam Roland Heughan?

Let me count the US crowds: the Wall Street yuppie crowd? the old money, WASP Knickerbocker / Colony Club crowd? Tribeca's sophisticated, culture-ish snob crowd? the UN international crowd? the laid-back (-ish) brownstone Brooklyn crowd? the DC politico types? the Boston Brahmin crowd? the Silicon Valley Bitcoin crowd? the Florida Latino crowd? the Bible Belt crowd? the Deep South charmingly old-fashioned crowd? the yee-haw, witty and ambitious Texans? the gourmet, nature-loving Seattle crowd? I am sure I am missing some (it's been a while I haven't traveled to the States and I have to say I miss all 50 of them, plus and perhaps above all my beloved DC :), but you get the idea. And the problem, or rather its first layer.

The second question this very poorly written article prompted is: what are you talking about, Sam Roland Heughan? I mean, what destination are you trying to promote? Scotland, through your Scottish gin, which I truly believe is exceptional? The Big Apple, like a counterpart to Sting, you know - a Scotsman in New York? That's not very clear, since that superficial girl just whirled you to a couple Chinatown speakeasies, rat pitter-patter included (bye-bye, Knickerbocker crowd right there) and that's pretty much it. New Zealand, that you mention at length, Maori tattoo story re-hashed, just because the book comes out next Tuesday? Ha-wa-wee, perhaps in a belated attempt to mitigate Tunagate? California, even, because it takes you back to humble beginnings? Granted, the Frisco one, not LA: that would be a horrible faux-pas, in a NY centered paper, much like me whimsically and idiotically mentioning Istanbul (instead of Constantinople), in a conversation with my Greek friends.

My head spins. And then let's add to that a ladle of recycled talking points, yours and C's altogether, like this gem:

Aspirational. Mmmhm. She said that. You said that. Multiple times, in multiple contexts that probably didn't even call for it. This is *** PR right there. I am not JAMMF. I am not Claire. But we aspire to that. Stop thinking we are these characters. No sane fan ever did: the insistence is unnecessary and has a real backfire potential. Stop thinking, period. But let it be my shipper sin, then, not to believe an iota of it and stubbornly think you people are, by now, way past the aspirational stage.

So, I took a long walk down memory lane today, while driving, trying to understand what the hell your personal brand is. Once upon a time, things were clear: you and C were a single brand. S&C - the fresh-faced, candid, witty and funny and oh, so in love new kids on the block. The spark was real and it was strong (it still is, only dampened and muted by PR-prompted shenanigans) and OL's audience was under its spell. People loved you, both of you, and some of us still do. You showed us as much as you could and for a while, it seemed to be convenient for just about everybody. That created expectations, but at the same time, you could have sold us land concessions on the Moon and we would have bought them, no questions asked.

And then, things happened. We know what: IFH, EFH, Remarkable Week-end. The spell was broken for many, who left in droves. Fans turned into bashing other fans. The S&C brand was progressively compromised and along with it, your Barbour Ambassadorship (for different reasons). Let's stop a bit at this point, in fond remembrance: that was the perfect pitch, for the perfect kind of corporate brand, for the perfect niche, for the perfect guy. A guy who had a credible, authentic story to tell, with a really strong potential to attract people outside of OL's crowd. Image and message perfectly aligned. Best case scenario.

So, with ***'s and your own PR benediction, what once was your solid gold starting point was ridiculed, trampled, shot to shambles, in a (failed) attempt to be sent to complete oblivion. You then had to think of something and try to branch out of both the blessing and curse of it.

MPC suddenly became more important than just any other charity project, of which there were a few (Cahonas Scotland comes to mind, the blood cancer one, as well). Cue in Sam the Athlete, Sam the Healthy Living Evangelist. The project was turned into a lucrative business, with a strong charity side. People bought subscriptions, people changed their eating and lifestyle habits, people lost weight - but really, I shouldn't write 'people', but 'women'. This was a women-oriented endeavor. A problem, again, on the long term.

Ha-wa-wee 1 happened, to more scandal and shrieks (that, I believe, was the reason you lost the Barbour project, another gold opportunity squandered because ten Internet bitches knew better). Then we were told another avatar was born: Sam the Entrepreneur. With a genuine, carefully curated, labor of love first alcohol product that clearly used the discarded S&C brand: The Sassenach and believe what you want, but just buy it. Mommies obliged. Antis obliged. Shippers obliged. All wallets are created equal, as I (often) use to say. And then COVID-19 came, putting a very real, very dangerous logistic strain on it.

Yet, you still had to somehow mitigate delays and losses. The Sassenach went exotic, with that limited edition tequila that probably won't be remembered by many outside OL's fandom, and that is a pity and a shame. The reason it won't be remembered is that you almost did not promote it, spare one or two Tick-Tock and Instagram clips. Does that justify the investment, the trips to Mexico, the very expensive retainers and commissions your tequila friends took for their trouble? I very much doubt it. That was, until being proved completely wrong, a flop. It brought absolutely nothing in terms of personal branding, spare perhaps a new faction in this paranoid cesspool of a fandom: the Gay Crowd, fueled by the image of a Lonely Bandana Cowboy, instead of the intended Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur. Yes, people are stupid, like that. Your PR and Sales team, too - and this comes from a place of deep understanding and appreciation.

We are now talking gin and boy, am I glad we do! This is perhaps an opportunity. Finally, a more democratically price-tagged, carefully tailored (again) drawing card product. But who is selling it to me? The California Boat Party Host? In that case, I won't buy it, but never mind me: maybe the fun-loving California Millennials would (we know the Smuggling Mommies would do it, anyways). The Sophisticated Traveler and Connoisseur you tried to show us again in Mancini's abysmal Departures paper and who is invited to important events, in recognition of his efforts?

You can't have the two of them, Sam, whatever those incompetents told you. You're either a 43-years old midlife crisis-stricken and shirtless clown or an Old World Industrious Thespian, with a stature and a status to match. A real Entrepreneur, not a cartoon scuba diver/beach boy Influencer. Eye Candy vs. Brain Power: after all, you are a '3x NYT best selling author', aren't you? Your pick, not mine. Stop the Sri Mataji-style Hugging and Booze tours: it's nonsense and that geriatric crowd is nowhere near what you need to make your dream come true. Do some real soul searching and stop listening to clueless 28-year old journalists, who tell you tacky rings are fun: they aren't. They make you look like an ageing Atlantic City Sinatra wannabe:

Sam Roland Heughan: currently at crossroads, trying to not choose between two opposite personal brands. Tricky position and an even trickier context, with the strike still lingering on and the pressing need to find an after OL strategy.

I promised you a tale of two brands and I think you wonder, by now, what happened to C, the other half of the primary SC brand?

The answer is, I honestly believe, not much. She has no personal brand, so to speak. Until now, she is just an Enthusiastic Dilettante. Book Club - started, unfinished and with that, farewell to any fan engagement. Cinema production rights - bought and then silence. Botanical Gin - first batch released (?) with no promo, no interviews (mentioning it in a podcast does not count), no reviews. Then teasing, then crickets again: a bit late, now, for the end of year celebrations. And I have to say I miss her or the part of her I never witnessed in real time (is such a thing possible?). I miss that starry-eyed, funny and witty girl. That girl was somehow completely swallowed by an Acrid Matron, who thought it was intelligent to yell at an Internet nobody, on Christmas Day, 'I am not married to Sam!' (ok, you aren't, but you're still lying). And I honestly don't know which one is best (or worst, for that matter): try to build something and make mistakes and try again until you hopefully find your way, or say nothing, do nothing and of course, never be controversial.

Now I am really interested to see how is she going to promote her gin. But you know what, I am not holding my breath, for some reason.

[hunnyy-bunnyyy]

Rhysand's Age, in Perspective

{Old draft from Rhysand's birthday.}

Let's say that on this day, in 1486, Rhysand was born (538 years ago). What we now know as The Renaissance had begun around a century prior, and was now in full swing. At this point in time, a majority of Europe was Roman Catholic. Over in Asia, China was a little over a century into the Ming Dynasty. 33 years prior, in 1453, the Byzantine capital, Constantinople, fell to the Ottoman Turks.

Earlier this year, in January, Henry VII (the seventh) married Elizabeth of York, ensuring the end of The War of the Roses. On the first day of May in modern-day Spain, Christopher Columbus proposed his plan to find a route to India to Isabella I of Castille. A little over a month prior, Arthur Tudor, older brother of the infamous Henry VIII (the eighth) was born.

Six years later, in 1492, Christopher Columbus would reach the Americas, landing on an island in the Bahamas that he called "San Salvador". By the end of the 1400s, the printing press (which had been introduced to Europe in 1439, and existed in Asia for far longer) revolutionized the spread of information.

In 1517, when Rhysand was 31, Martin Luther published "The Ninety-Five Theses" -- this would mark the beginning of the Protestant Reformation. In 1521, when Rhysand was 35, Spanish conquistadors conquered Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire. In 1543, when Rhysand was 57, Europe's Scientific Revolution began.

Rapid Fire Events and Ages:

1533, Queen Elizabeth I takes the throne - 47 years old

1776, American Revolution - 290 years old

1789, French Revolution - 303 years old

1837, Queen Victoria takes the throne - 351 years old

1912, The Qing Dynasty (the last of China's Imperial Dynasties) falls - 426 years old

1914, World War One - 428 years old

1917, The Russian Revolution/Birth of the Soviet Union - 431 years old

1939, World War II and the Holocaust - 453 years old

1952, Queen Elizabeth II takes the throne - 466 years old

1954, The American Civil Rights movement begins - 468 years old

2002, Feyre is born - 516 years old

[orthodoxydaily]

SAINTS&READING: MONDAY, MARCH 3, 2025

february 18_march 3

Beginning of the Great Lent. Great Lent. By Monastic Charter - Full abstention from food0

St LEO THE GREAT POPE OF ROME (461).

Saint Leo I the Great, Pope of Rome (440-461), received a fine and diverse education, which opened the possibility of an excellent worldly career for him. He yearned for the spiritual life, however, and so he chose to become an archdeacon under holy Pope Sixtus III (432-440), after whose death Saint Leo was selected as Bishop of Rome in September 440.

These were difficult times for the Church, when heretics assaulted Orthodoxy with their false teachings. Saint Leo combined pastoral solicitude and goodness with an unshakable firmness in the confession of the Faith. He was in particular one of the basic defenders of Orthodoxy against the heresies of Eutyches and Dioscorus, who taught that there was only one nature in the Lord Jesus Christ. He was also a defender against the heresy of Nestorius.

He exerted all his influence to put an end to the unrest by the heretics in the Church, and by his letters to the holy emperors Theodosius II (408-450) and Marcian (450-457), he actively promoted the convening of the Fourth Ecumenical Council, at Chalcedon in 451, to condemn the heresy of the Monophysites.

At the Council at Chalcedon, at which 630 bishops were present, a letter of Saint Leo to the deceased Saint Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople (447-449) was read. Saint Flavian had suffered for Orthodoxy under the “Robber Council” of Ephesus in the year 449. In the letter of Saint Leo the Orthodox teaching about the two natures [the divine and the human] in the Lord Jesus Christ was set forth. All the bishops present at the Council were in agreement with this teaching, and so the heretics Eutyches and Dioscorus were excommunicated from the Church.

Saint Leo was also a defender of his country against the incursions of barbarians. In 452, by the persuasive power of his words, he stopped Attila the Hun from pillaging Italy. Again in the year 455, when the leader of the Vandals [a Germanic tribe], Henzerich, turned towards Rome, he persuaded him not to pillage the city, burn buildings, nor to spill blood.

He knew the time of his death beforehand, and he prepared himself, with forty days of fasting and prayer, to pass from this world into eternity.

He died in 461 and was buried in Rome. His literary and theological legacy includes 96 sermons and 143 letters, the best known of which is his Epistle to Saint Flavian.

Source: Orthodox Church in America

VENERABLE COSMAS MONK, OF YAKHROMSK (1492).

Saint Cosmas of Yakhrom was the servant of a certain Boyar, whom he comforted during his long illness by reading to him from books. And so, travelling from town to town, they stopped at the Yakhrom River. Exhausted by their long journey, they fell into a sound sleep. Suddenly, Cosmas was awakened by a vision of extraordinary light. In a tree, Cosmas saw an icon of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos, and he heard a mysterious voice say: "Pay attention, Cosmas, and understand the words of life. Lead a God-pleasing life and seek the joy of the righteous, so that you may receive eternal blessings.”

The voice also commanded him to become a monk and to build a monastery.

Reverently, he took the Icon of the Mother of God and brought it to his sick master. As soon as it was placed on the old man, he was healed of his infirmity. When his term of servitude expired, Saint Cosmas went to the Kiev Caves Lavra. After giving the Icon to the brethren, he was tonsured in that Monastery. After he was tonsured, he astonished even experienced monks by his asceticism. The Saint contested there for many years, and then he had a vision of an Angel telling him to leave the Lavra and to take with him the Icon of the Mother of God which had appeared to him.

He asked the monks for the Icon, and left Kiev, arriving at the place where the wonderworking Icon had appeared to him. There, with the help of some pious donors, he built a temple dedicated to the Dormition of the Mother of God. He remained at the church, engaging in various monastic struggles which he had imposed on himself. Disciples began to gather around the Saint, a Monastery was established, and Saint Cosmas was chosen as its Igoumen. During this time, word of his ascetic struggles even reached the ears of the Great Prince.

Saint Cosmas reposed at an advanced age on February 18, 1492, and was buried in the Monastery which he founded. He is also commemorated on October 14, the Feast of the Yakhrom Icon of the Mother of God. (1)

1 Many sources indicate that it was an icon of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos which appeared to Saint Cosmas, but only a reputed copy of the Icon has been preserved, which depicts the Mother of God according to the "Tenderness" category of Russian icons.

Isaiah 1:1-20

1 The vision of Isaiah the son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and Hezekiah, kings of Judah. 2 Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth! For the Lord has spoken: “I have nourished and brought up children, And they have rebelled against Me; 3 The ox knows its owner And the donkey its master’s crib; But Israel does not know, My people do not consider.”

4 Alas, sinful nation, A people laden with iniquity, A brood of evildoers, Children who are corrupters! They have forsaken the Lord, They have provoked to anger The Holy One of Israel, They have turned away backward. 5 Why should you be stricken again? You will revolt more and more. The whole head is sick, And the whole heart faints. 6 From the sole of the foot even to the head, There is no soundness in it, But wounds and bruises and putrefying sores; They have not been closed or bound up, Or soothed with ointment.

7 Your country is desolate, Your cities are burned with fire; Strangers devour your land in your presence; And it is desolate, as overthrown by strangers. 8 So the daughter of Zion is left as a booth in a vineyard, As a hut in a garden of cucumbers, As a besieged city. 9 Unless the Lord of hosts Had left to us a very small remnant, We would have become like Sodom, We would have been made like Gomorrah

. 10 Hear the word of the Lord, You rulers of Sodom; Give ear to the law of our God, You people of Gomorrah: 11 “To what purpose is the multitude of your sacrifices to Me?” Says the Lord. “I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams And the fat of fed cattle. I do not delight in the blood of bulls, Or of lambs or goats 12 “When you come to appear before Me, Who has required this from your hand, To trample My courts?

13 Bring no more futile sacrifices; Incense is an abomination to Me. The New Moons, the Sabbaths, and the calling of assemblies— I cannot endure iniquity and the sacred meeting. 14 Your New Moons and your appointed feasts My soul hates; They are a trouble to Me, I am weary of bearing them. 15 When you spread out your hands, I will hide My eyes from you; Even though you make many prayers, I will not hear. Your hands are full of blood.

16 “Wash yourselves, make yourselves clean; Put away the evil of your doings from before My eyes. Cease to do evil, 17 Learn to do good; Seek justice, Rebuke the oppressor; Defend the fatherless, Plead for the widow. 18 “Come now, and let us reason together,” Says the Lord, “Though your sins are like scarlet, They shall be as white as snow; Though they are red like crimson, They shall be as wool.

19 If you are willing and obedient, You shall eat the good of the land; 20 But if you refuse and rebel, You shall be devoured by the sword”; For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.

Proverbs 1:1-20

1 The proverbs of Solomon the son of David, king of Israel: 2 To know wisdom and instruction, To perceive the words of understanding, 3 To receive the instruction of wisdom, Justice, judgment, and equity; 4 To give prudence to the simple, To the young man knowledge and discretion— 5 A wise man will hear and increase learning, And a man of understanding will attain wise counsel, 6 To understand a proverb and an enigma, The words of the wise and their riddles. 7 The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, But fools despise wisdom and instruction. 8 My son, hear the instruction of your father, 9 For they will be a graceful ornament on your head, And chains about your neck. 10 My son, if sinners entice you, Do not consent. 11 If they say, “Come with us, Let us lie in wait to shed blood; Let us lurk secretly for the innocent without cause; 12 Let us swallow them alive like Sheol, And whole, like those who go down to the Pit; 13 We shall find all kinds of precious possessions, We shall fill our houses with spoil; 14 Cast in your lot among us, Let us all have one purse”— 15 My son, do not walk in the way with them, Keep your foot from their path; 16 For their feet run to evil, And they make haste to shed blood. 17 Surely, in vain the net is spread In the sight of any bird; 18 But they lie in wait for their own blood, They lurk secretly for their own lives. 19 So are the ways of everyone who is greedy for gain; It takes away the life of its owners. 20 Wisdom calls aloud outside; She raises her voice in the open squares.

[gerlionrise]

Tongues of Conquest

Pairing: Mehmed ii x servant!tutor!reader Synopsis: When the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire seeks mastery of the Italian tongue, he enlists an unlikely tutor—a young servant fluent in ten languages. Their lessons begin as mere diplomacy, but amidst the exchange of words, unspoken feelings surface. In a world where loyalty and ambition intertwine, will language become a bridge between hearts or a barrier to truth?   Tags: Slow Burn, Forbidden Romance, Jealousy, Historical Fiction, Tutor/Student? Dynamics, Mutual Pining, Ottoman Empire

The conquest of Constantinople had marked the dawn of a new empire. Sultan Mehmed II, now the conqueror of two worlds, found himself in need of a new skill—mastery of the Italian tongue. His ambitions stretched far beyond the Bosporus, and to communicate with the Italian envoys, traders, and rulers of Rome, he required someone both capable and discreet.  

That someone, improbably, was you.  

Your origins were humble, a servant captured during the siege of the city. But your gift for languages had not gone unnoticed. Within weeks, whispers of the girl who spoke in ten tongues reached the Sultan’s court, and soon after, you were brought to him.  

---

The first time you saw Mehmed, he stood with the weight of an empire on his shoulders. His presence was magnetic, his dark eyes sharp with intelligence and scrutiny.  

"You are the one they speak of," he said, his voice smooth but commanding.  

You bowed low, keeping your eyes on the marble floor. “Yes, my Sultan.”  

He studied you, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “Italian is what I require. I trust you can teach me?”  

“Yes, my Sultan.”  

"Good," he said simply, dismissing the room with a wave of his hand. "We begin tomorrow."  

---

The lessons began in a grand library adorned with ornate carvings and shelves stacked with books in languages you could only dream of reading. Mehmed sat opposite you, his posture rigid, his gaze focused.  

Your relationship was formal. He was your Sultan, and you were his servant. You corrected his pronunciation, guided him through verb conjugations, and drilled him on vocabulary. He was a quick learner, his mind as sharp as his sword.  

“You speak Italian like a Roman,” he remarked one day, his tone almost playful.  

You smiled faintly, uncertain of how to respond. “I’ve studied it for many years.”  

“And yet you ended up here,” he said, his voice soft but probing.  

You hesitated. “Fate has curious designs, my Sultan.”  

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded, the conversation ending as abruptly as it began.  

---

It was during one of these lessons that the first spark ignited. Mehmed stumbled over a particularly complex sentence, and you couldn’t suppress a quiet laugh.  

His brow arched. “You find this amusing?”  

“My Sultan, even you cannot conquer grammar as swiftly as you conquered Constantinople.”  

For a moment, there was silence, and then a soft chuckle escaped him. It was the first time you’d heard him laugh, and the sound warmed something deep within you.  

“I suppose even I must have my limits,” he said, his voice lighter than usual.  

From that day, a subtle shift occurred. He began to ask you questions—not about Italian, but about yourself. Where had you learned so many languages? Did you miss your homeland?  

You answered carefully, always aware of the line between servant and sovereign. But with each conversation, the line seemed to blur.  

---

It was a quiet afternoon in the grand library. The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the air. You sat across from Mehmed, a thick tome of Italian grammar open between you. He was focused on his writing, his brows furrowed as he attempted to conjugate verbs in a letter he was drafting.  

Out of nowhere, he looked up and asked, “How would one say ‘beautiful’ in Italian?”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “Bello or bella, my Sultan.”  

“And... ‘love’?”  

You hesitated, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Amore.”  

He nodded slowly, repeating the words under his breath, as if tasting them. “Bella. Amore.”  

“What do you need these words for, my Sultan?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.  

He smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair. “Perhaps I will use them one day for some beautiful Italian lady.”  

Your heart tightened at his words, though you masked it behind a polite smile. “I see,” you said simply, turning your focus back to the book.  

But the thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You knew it was foolish, but the idea of him using those words for someone else stirred a flicker of jealousy you could not quite suppress.   ---

The court buzzed with whispers of your lessons. Though your position was strictly professional, not everyone saw it that way.  

One day, a Venetian envoy arrived at the palace. Handsome and confident, he spoke fluent Italian and attended one of your lessons with Mehmed, a beautiful act from Sultan. The Venetian greeted you warmly, his gaze lingering a moment too long.  

Mehmed noticed.  

When the envoy complimented your teaching skills, Mehmed’s jaw tightened. And when the Venetian suggested you might be better suited as a translator for his own court, Mehmed’s voice was cold as steel.  

“She belongs here,” he said, his words final.  

Later that evening, after the Venetian left your study room, the lesson was tense. Mehmed was curt, his usual curiosity replaced by a brooding silence.  

“Have I done something to displease you, my Sultan?” you asked cautiously.  

His gaze flicked to you, dark and unreadable. “No. But I do not appreciate others thinking they can claim what is mine.” The words sent a shiver through you, though you weren’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely.  

---

As the weeks passed, the formality between you continued to erode. Mehmed began to linger after lessons, speaking to you of things far beyond Italian—his dreams for the empire, his love of history, his fascination with languages.  

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he asked, “Do you think of me as a monster?”  

The question caught you off guard. “Why would you ask that, my Sultan?”  

“Many romans here do,” he said, his voice quiet. “For what I’ve done. For what I must do.”  

You hesitated, then spoke carefully. “A ruler must make difficult choices. There is always a side that will judge you, but those who follow you will remember the strength you showed.”  

For the first time, his gaze softened, and he said, “You see more than most.”  

---

The turning point came one night during a lesson on poetry. You’d selected a sonnet in Italian, its words rich with longing and beauty.  

As you read aloud, Mehmed’s eyes never left you. When you finished, the silence hung heavy between you.  

“You speak of love as if you’ve known it,” he said, his voice low.  

You met his gaze, your heart pounding. “The words are not mine, my Sultan.”  

“Perhaps,” he said, leaning closer, “but they stir something in you, do they not?”  

Before you could respond, the door opened, breaking the moment. But the tension lingered, unspoken and undeniable.  

---

From time to time, Mehmed would slip into Arabic during your lessons. At first, he was just talking to himself. But then it became more deliberate, the words directed at you.  

One day, as you handed him a fresh quill, he murmured, “Jamila.”  

You froze for a moment before recovering, pretending you didn’t understand.  

Another time, when you struggled to reach a book on a high shelf, he said, “Habibti,” the word rolling off his tongue like silk.  

You knew exactly what it meant—“my love.” And “Jamila,” beautiful. Arabic was one of the ten languages you spoke. But you chose to stay silent, curious to see how far he would go.  

His voice softened when he used those words, the usually commanding tone replaced by something gentler, almost intimate. Each time, your heart raced, though you told yourself it was nothing. He didn’t mean it. Or did he?  

---

One evening, long after the court had gone to sleep, Mehmed found you in the library. You were bent over a stack of books, your hair falling in soft waves over your shoulders. He paused in the doorway, watching you for a moment before stepping inside.  

“I need to ask you something,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You looked up, surprised to see him at such a late hour.

“Of course, my Sultan.”  

He sat down across from you, his gaze unusually intense. “Do you think it is better to show love with words or actions?”  

The question caught you off guard. “Both, I suppose,” you said cautiously. “Words can inspire, but actions prove their truth.”  

He nodded slowly, as if weighing your words. “And if someone could not find the courage to say the words?”  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. “Then... perhaps their actions would speak loud enough.”  

For a long moment, the two of you sat in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, quietly, he said, “Thank you, for your wisdom.”  

He rose to leave, but before he could reach the door, you called after him. “Sultan?”  

“Yes?”  

You hesitated, then shook your head. “Nothing. Goodnight.”  

He lingered for a moment before nodding. “Goodnight, Jamila.”  

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone with the sound of your racing heart.  

[elbiotipo]

One of the Spelljammer-like settings I worked the most on was and alternate history where the Byzantines went into an alchemical industrial revolution, conquered Venus and Mars and then the stars (the classical constellation plus many many more made up ones). So you got this Space Roman Empire that has conquered many other civilizations, still ruled from Constantinople on Terra. So the technology is industrial but the asethetics are very much all over the place, with sailships flying on the aether powered by crystals and such.

The characters are communist revolutionaries (as in, literal communists, of course with some other kind of referents since this is alternate history) who want the overthrow the Empire, not because it was once good and now corrupted by evil forces (though of course there's a Space Rasputin) but because they're communists and so they oppose empires and want to establish the People's Galactic Republic. They don't want to return to olden days or to defeat a coming evil: they want to change established society. So you have these pair of aristocrats who join a "pirate" crew and slowly as they travel from world to world in their Space Sailship they learn about what the Empire is truly like for those outside the palace. Slowly the revolution begins. They are by the middle of the story the first ones to open fire on the gates of the Astral Palace.

The story is from then on basically taken from the Russian Revolution and Civil War with some Warlord Era China and Napoleonic France for good measure. The revolution intially triumphs, then reactionary forces gather, there is warlords and ideological infighting and tyrants who take over and more. A new order is finally established, through great sacrifice, but the story doesn't end in an utopia, just with a revolutionary state that might or not endure the tests to come. Of course, with space battles.

[ryttu3k]

Hello mutual of my mutual,

I would like to ask a vykos question to the knower of vast vykosian knowledge (ie you if Dusty's reblogs are correct).

Basically, I've been starting the clan novel saga from the beginning (previously i had only read the nosferatu, malkavian, and tzmisce ones) and I never quite figured out who had been writing "love" letters to sascha.

My first thought was illias cel frumos. As they were lovers. But I heard someone say it was vitel? Which makes no sense to me and don't know if they were correct either.

So out of curiosity, who is sending these letters to Sascha in the clan novel saga? If its not their lover, then why is someone else doing it? I sadly am not that knowledgeable on vykos.

Hello, mutual-in-law! SPOILERS for the Clan Novel Saga ahead!

It is indeed Vitel! He's playing all sides - posing as a loyal Camarilla Ventrue as 'Marcus Vitel', actually being a Lasombra methuselah with his own agenda of ruling absolutely, slipping information to Sascha as 'Lucius' (his real name is Lucius Aelius Sejanus) in the hope that the Sabbat will help fuck up the Camarilla for him (while also trying to manipulate the entire Sabbat in the process).

He is... quite good at what he does. By the time Sascha and Parmenides try to assassinate Vitel, not even they realise that he and the 'Lucius' they've been getting information from is one and the same, meaning 'Lucius' is obliged to keep up the impression of a loyal and passionate admirer and information-provider even as Sascha takes over his city as Archbishop of DC, while secretly trying to manipulate them into doing what he wants.

Some of the later letters are quite funny. Like they're still written romantically but they're also super thinly veiled threats. Sascha's last letter, after they learn who 'Lucius' is:

"I find your city in good order and commend you for having left it so. There is no step I tread, no sight I behold, that does not usher thought of you to my mind. Fear not that you will lack reward for your sojourn among the infidels. No good deed goes unpunished, or so the wits are wont to say. For now, however, I languish in your absence, wishing only that I might lay hands upon you."

Translation: "Hahahahaha I'm gonna turn you into a throw rug :)"

Anyway, eventually he gets revealed to the Camarilla, and gets taken down by Theo Bell and his companions (including Christof from VtM Redemption). He re-emerges in BJD a few years later, determined to take back DC and declare war against Vykos' Sabbat!

(Sascha, for their part, has gone "you know what, fuck this" and has abandoned DC. It's quite funny. Vitel gives Beckett nigh-unlimited funding to go in search of information, including multiple private planes, which means that he's more or less directly responsible for Beckett saving Sascha's unlife then making out with them in the men's bathroom of a huge gay club in Rio, but anyway...)

Anyway! If you're not too far in, I super recommend that instead of reading the original novels, you read the compiled versions instead! They're called The Fall of Atlanta, The Eye of Gehenna, Bloody September, and End Games. Not only do they compile everything chronologically, but, and more importantly, they include a lot of extra content from short stories, other novels (like the Lasombra Trilogy, which is super important for Lucita's storyline), and, my favourite part, content written exclusively for the compiled versions! Highlights include a gorgeous Sascha-centric story in Bloody September by Lucien Soulban, writer of Constantinople by Night and thus Sascha's creator, and the exclusive epilogue in End Games by Janet Trautvetter, which beautifully concludes Jan's story, reveals a great deal about Hardestadt, and also has Sascha in it too. That epilogue deals with Gehenna and so has technically been retconned, but the reveal about Jan has been continued through to BJD, and so is still canon!

However you read it, have fun! It's a bonkers adventure!

[velnat004]

Hi! I love the idea of Turkish qunari, I was wondering if you'd be willing to share your headcanons about them? No pressure, I just think it's a fun concept to explore!

DISCLAIMER: This is not a meta but rather just self-indulgent stuff, if you headcanon the qunari as a different ethnicity OR have a non-qunari oc that is turkish-coded,  that’s completely fine by me!

“Before their arrival in Thedas, the aforementioned race were once a part of the kossith that predated the Qun. The earliest known kossith contact with Thedas was when a colony of them had settled in the southern Korcari Wilds in -410 Ancient. It was overrun by darkspawn during the First Blight, and it is presumably this colony which led to the darkspawn developing ogres. There were no other recorded sightings of the horned race for another 1000 years.

They returned as the Qunari en masse on warships, called dreadnoughts, and arrived in Thedas from the north in 6:30 Steel. It's said that they originate from an unknown eastern land across the Boeric Ocean. Some scholars theorize that the Qunari come from the supposed eastern continent known as Amaranth.[20] They once threatened to conquer all of the known world, but after several Exalted Marches during the Qunari Wars they have lost much of the conquered land. Since then, peace has been made since with every nation except the Tevinter Imperium; with whom they are still involved in a prolonged war for dominance of the north.” (https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Qunari)

Turkish history extends back thousands of years before the founding of the Turkish Republic in 1923. Turks, originally a nomadic people from Central Asia, established several empires, including the Seljuk Empire and later the Ottoman Empire, which was founded in Anatolia by Turkish ruler Osman in 1299. The Ottomans took Constantinople in 1453 and became a dominant world power encompassing Anatolia, the Maghreb in North Africa, southeastern Europe, parts of the Arabian Peninsula and Persian  Gulf, modern day Iraq, and portions of the Caucasus. Consequently, the Ottoman Empire had a religiously and ethnically diverse population. Ottoman loss of territory starting in the 17th century prompted constitutional, educational, and military reforms to begin in the late 18th century. However, due to fragmentation of national groups within the empire, slow economic and technological progress, and the Ottomans’ ill-fated alliance with Germany, the empire collapsed at the end of World War I. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, who had risen to prominence as a war hero in the Battle of Gallipoli (Gallipoli Campaign, (February 1915–January 1916), in World War I, an Anglo-French operation against Turkey, intended to force the 38-mile- (61-km- [https://www.britannica.com/event/Gallipoli-Campaign]) long Dardanelles channel and to occupy Constantinople., subsequently united disparate Turkish forces against the foreign occupation of Turkish lands and in favour of national sovereignty. (https://www.tc-america.org/issues-information/turkish-history-28.htm)

-----------------------------------

"The Qunari do not have a concept of personal identity. While they possess names, they do not use them, primarily using titles rather than names to identify and present themselves. The names are in fact simply strings of genealogical information used only by the Tamassrans for record-keeping. Some of the name-titles include Sten, Arishok, and Tallis. However, they do make frequent use of nicknames."

Before that, Turks, as well as other ethnicities living in the Ottoman Empire, had no surname. People were addressed with titles like "hadji" (pilgrim), "hodja" (teacher), "agha" (master), "pasha" (general), "hafiz" (someone who have completely memorized the Qur'an), "lady/madam" and so on.  (https://www.aa.com.tr/en/turkey/surname-law-a-profound-change-in-turkish-history)

-----------------------------------

"The Qunari call outsiders bas ("thing") and consider them unfortunate beings who, however, have a potential to grow if the Qun's wisdom is imparted to them.The best an outsider can hope for amongst the Qunari is to be considered a basalit-an, "worthy of respect"; a basalit-an is a worthy foe, and one that can be negotiated with to an extent, but still bas regardless."

Giaour/Gavur (a Turkish adaptation of the Persian gâwr or gōr, an infidel), a word used by the Turks to describe all who are not Mohammedans, with especial reference to Christians. The word, first employed as a term of contempt and reproach, has become so general that in most cases no insult is intended in its use; for example in parts of China, the term foreign devil has become void of offence. A strict analogy to giaour is found in the Arabic kafir, or unbeliever, which is so commonly in use as to have become the proper name of peoples and countries. (https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Giaour)

---------

Aside from the historical jazz, the word "Kadaan" sounds and translates similar to "Kalbim" in Turkish <:

Kadan: Literally, "where the heart lies;" friend. An all-purpose word for a "person one cares about," including colleagues, friends and loved ones. Also means "the center of the chest."

Kalbim : "My heart" in Turkish, an endearment word

i couldn't find her reply under one of my posts but @loghainderolo mentioned that Seheron is the Thedas equalevent of Cyprus

Thank u for the ask! :D

[cosmic-day]

Having seen the final season of The Umbrella Academy: I didn’t hate it quite as much as most of fandom seem to, but I also didn’t love it. Rambly thoughts and massive spoilers under the cut:

First of all, I don’t know how much the compressed episode count affected things, but I felt like adding  ‘could/would have worked better if fleshed out more’ at the end of every sentence in this review.

As far as positives go, I was OK with the ending. It has been baked into the show from the beginning that the Hargreeves siblings only break whatever they try to fix, and their erasure from the universe being the only thing that restores the timeline does make sense. I kind of respect the show for committing to that, rather than finding a last minute “they died but not really” cop out.

I loved Abigail’s role in it as well and think that is a really underrated bit of satisfying writing: Abigail who has been literally and figuratively fridged for three seasons gets to tell Reginald that she never asked for this and never wanted it, and most importantly gets to not only seize control of the narrative but end it. That part really worked for me.

Viktor had a decent arc and also got to confront Reginald about his shitty parenting which was also satisfying.

Unfortunately, there the positives end.

Most of the other characters got short changed. Klaus was stuck in an irrelevant subplot, as he often is, but here it felt more irrelevant than usual, and also gratuitously dark – I mean, it’s a dark show at times but this felt like trauma porn for the sake of it. Allison had some good moments, but not much of an arc. Diego and Luther were both reduced to goofy, borderline pathetic comic relief in a way that just felt mean spirited at times. Ben and Jennifer needed way more time to work properly.

And then there’s the Five/Lila of it all.

I love these guys. Not only are they my favourite individual characters, but I loved their enemies to chaotic besties arc, and I really wanted more of that friendship. The subway plot was a brilliant idea, and I could have watched a whole episode (I’m thinking the Last Of Us episode ‘Long Long Time’), following them surviving together and developing their friendship (and also maybe addressing little irrelevant details like Five being the killer of her parents). But they just had to shoehorn in a romance, by Steve Blackman’s admission, because they ‘had to have a love story’ for Five. OK, but why? Why does a character ‘need’ a romance? Also, protip, but if you do something because you feel it ‘has’ to happen, and not because you want to develop the characters in any way, it shows.

I should say I don’t particularly care about the age gap issues. Nor do I entirely agree with the argument that it’s ooc for Five, because our precious blorbo Would Never betray his brother like that. I love Five, but he’s a little shit. Also, I’ve seen many complaints that he spent decades in the apocalypse and never gave up so why is he giving up now, but maybe he gave up because he spent decades in the apocalypse. Maybe he’s just tired. Everyone has limits, and Five has hit his.

I just hate that platonic relationships are always erased, sidelined and overwritten in favour of romantic relationships because those are obviously more important and more interesting. Five’s friendship with Lila and devotion to his family are also love stories, and they’re not lesser because they’re not romantic. I also violently hate love triangles. This one was particularly annoying and not even properly resolved.

Overall the season just felt lacking. Where were the great big goofy, joyous setpieces, or alternatively, if such is your jam, the dark and deranged pieces of ultra violence set to a banger of a pop tune. Where, in short, were Footloose and Istanbul Not Constantinople. (Though I will admit Baby Shark made me laugh.)

Anyway. I wouldn’t say the show is ruined for me, but it was a disappointing conclusion and my least favourite season by far.

[thecrenellations]

me running around in circles about the parallels that come together at the end of Checkmate:

(yeah)

what it says on the tin, below. Contains maximum spoilers.

(also contains references to themes of suicide, sexual violence, live chess, etc, because everything is connected.)

and because everything is connected, this is something like how it flows together in my brain. I’m not sure if it makes sense outside of it, and it’s certainly not exhaustive. I was mostly thinking about Marthe and Francis vs Kuzúm and Khaireddin. Bringing Sybilla, for example, more directly into it is a whole other spiral…

anyway:

As Francis decides whether Khaireddin or Kuzúm will die, Jerott asks, Which? The one who had experienced love and a modicum of happiness, or the one who had not.

Lymond said, “Marthe.” Marthe is the piece that takes Khaireddin. I think about Khaireddin as Marthe, sacrificed, while Francis and Kuzúm, loved by Philippa, are saved. Strangers switched as infants; siblings switched at death. In Amiens, Marthe convinces Sybilla to bully her son back to life. In Edinburgh, Philippa convinces Francis to spare Gabriel in order to save the son he has just learned exists. “I will not fail you, ever.”

Which child? The one whose life had been innocent, or the one who had been earliest corrupted and whose first uncertain steps had just been taken towards his birthright of friendship and joy?

Philippa rides to St. Mary’s with information that will destroy Joleta and Gabriel. Francis lets Gabriel kill Joleta when he could have died in her place, and I think about it as a sacrifice of his sixteen-year-old, vilified self. Like how Francis lets Khaireddin die to finally kill Gabriel. Khaireddin is Marthe, but he’s also another version of Francis, whether or not he’s his son. And the knight was the child who had not yet known happiness; the child Lymond had drawn to himself. Who is corrupted, and who is innocent? Who gets to know happiness?

“Then allow me to take the child’s place. I have no objections.” Roxelana and Güzel refuse, Khaireddin dies, and Philippa makes Francis promise to live. Marthe has told her he will not want to and told her brother that Philippa will not be thinking of herself. The marriage holds longer than the promise, but he still lives.

When Güzel is dead and Francis has made a new promise to his mother to live and return home, Marthe rides to Philippa’s home with news that would destroy Richard. Richard tries to save Marthe, but Austin destroys her, and they both do so thinking she is Francis. Depending how you count, there are four Crawford siblings and two of them are bastards. “Your father’s two sons will never meet again.”

“Like your son, I am a bastard.” “No, my dear. Forgive me, but I think you are a bastard like nobody else.” Marthe comes to England and dies before reaching Scotland. Francis tries to leave Scotland forever, to keep his brother safe. He fails. “Richard will be safe.” For the sake of someone he is just beginning to love, he does not let himself drown. The irony of “not yet.” He fails that Richard, too. It is an impossible task. The Crawford brothers take turns riding through the night to find each other alive and fracture again. Richard can never learn why Francis left, because that is the truth that would destroy him. And the sacrifice Francis made was unnecessary.

"Five years—even five such as these—can’t tear me drop by drop from your blood." Francis thinks of 1547-8 as the year he fought his brother. Richard’s sole, desperate purpose is to kill Francis, and he saves him instead. Francis’s purpose is to save Richard, and he tries, so hard, to kill himself. “I’m here to help you. You’re going to be free.” What can ten years tear apart?

Ten years later, Marthe says, “I am going to move the pieces. I am going to direct the end of the game.” Nostradamus tells her her part is still to come. In Constantinople, Francis is king and Marthe is queen. But Roxelana watches, and Güzel watches, making sacrifice necessary. In Dumbarton, the father of one pawn finds the mother of the second in his room. Adam watches, and then Richard finds them both. “So this is the outcome of it all. This is why Tom Erskine preserved you; why Christian Stewart died and Gabriel has worked to redeem you … for this. Francis, I would sooner have discovered you dead.” Richard doesn’t mention what he did that year, himself. The year he saved his brother. “Francis! I can’t let you take your own life.”

Lymond screamed once with agony, and then screamed and screamed again.

Joleta screamed three times, a thin, breathy kind of scream, with her hands spread rigid, like shining, flesh-eating plants before her.

In Volos, Francis will not let himself scream. He recites, and Marthe joins him. “I called you sister. Was I right?” “Yes. What made you sure?” “The luggage of poetry you carry.” In the sweet summer’s dell north of Hexham, Richard tells stories of everything but their father and does not want Francis to explain about Eloise. But, before that, it’s Richard who brings her up minutes before Francis stabs himself with his brother’s knife. God, Francis had screamed.

"My sister … Who will speak for her? ... Are you so short of rods that you must despoil young trees: so short of stones that you need to walk the very graveyards for them...?"

It’s a series bookended by dead sisters, dead by powder. Francis asks those questions when his own trial drags up rumors. If they were about Gabriel’s abuse of Joleta, they would be true. In Moscow, the night Francis comes to her room, Güzel says, “I too have had my Margaret Lennox and my Agha Morat and my child-whore Joleta Reid Malett.” But who is she? I think of Joleta, Míkál, and Philippa in his rooms in Dumbarton, Thessalonika, Constantinople, and Paris. Those are four very different nights. On one, he calls out to Eloise.

“I am going to call on Philippa, when we get to London. What will you do if I take her straight to my lodging and rape her?” Austin was very white. “Kill you,” he said. “If I can.”

Is Joleta innocent or corrupted when her brother kills her on the stairs? How much does it change the meaning of what Francis did to her at Dumbarton? That year, Philippa’s moves in the game are to tell Trotty Luckup’s version of Joleta’s story and to spare Gabriel to save Khaireddin. Which child?

Two great women who play with fate steer Philippa towards Kuzúm and towards Francis. In Algiers, a pawn’s mother dies and Oonagh turns to fire. Lymond was dedicated. And she…she was the sacrifice. He doesn’t know she is alive, and then he doesn’t know that he will find her dead. To Francis Crawford, this unknown son was a tragedy of which he must never learn. But he does learn. He sees her, but she will never see him again.

There were other children, and nothing to tell her whether the bubbling purr she heard at night, of a baby full and content, was his. … She did not know Khaireddin’s scream, or the sound Francis Crawford might have made when once he too was branded for the galleys.

This child; this unknown son of his blood, was worth one life: his own. … This, one felt of one’s son. Was it not also true of Gabriel’s?

In the chess game, who knows whose child is whose? Who makes sure they are there? Kiaya Khátún, with her whims, switches children and lovers. Marthe and Jerott marry each other as substitutes for Güzel and Francis. Philippa marries Francis because he promises to preserve his own one life. Francis believes that to live and return would be to kill his brother. Forced to go home, he believes he will return to Güzel.

Güzel, who was dead.

Francis reminds Archie that Philippa has released him from his promise. Archie has saved him so many times before. So has Jerott, who knocks the opium out of Francis’s hands and turns it to powder. So Francis decides to die joyfully, in fire and flood, ground by a burning mill on a river. Jerott pulls him from the river anyway, and holds him in his arms as he faces his mother and comes back to life, surrounded by love and tapers burning like Oonagh’s. "My life has a rudimentary value in that you were moved to preserve it." In Amboise and Blois, Oonagh leaves his survival to chance, but she also saves him.

“No. Oh Christ, no. It should have happened long ago.” Jerott knows that he has taken away a death Francis wanted. He stops Richard from intervening and lets Austin kill the rider none of them know is Marthe. “Don’t stop it. No one else could do it for him.” Jerott kills Austin without knowing whose death he’s avenging. It is the death of Marthe, who wanted her own life. The words from the garden in Djerba come to Jerott once he knows, as Francis and Philippa embrace. My beloved is dead. 

As he aims, Austin is so sure he’s the only one who sees the real Francis Crawford, rotten and arrogant and undeserving of life. “Is it for this thou wast created?” thinks Philippa, who first saw Marthe as a shadow and a voice and mistook her for Francis. For Marthe, the answer to that question is yes. “Poor sister. A pawn more helpless even than…”

They had used a knife, so the child’s face was not distorted.

He aimed into the fair, weary, rancourless face, and then at the heart, and both balls found their mark and brought death in the end.

“Consider: who — stretching the imagination, of course, to its most grotesque outer limits — might be taken for my younger brother.”

Acting and not acting, Marthe speaks with the voice of the woman who created both of them, a dead chessmaster who won’t be silent. “You will harm her,” Francis warns Camille. Marthe tells Jerott, “I enjoy acting, as he does. The human scene is well rid of us both.” Many agree. Richard says to his brother, “My dear, you are only a boy. You have all your life still before you.”

“God damn you both. You summon and you throw away. You treat love like a bird for the table… Like a pawn, now in frankincense, now discarded and thrown in the dirt. You don’t know what love is, either of you. And God help us and you, if you ever find out.”

“Whatever made you think you were free? But because of you there will be something, I promise you, by which men will know Francis Crawford has been.”

“There’s an unnatural conspiracy to keep me alive, that’s all.”

“How do you take leave, for all time, of a brother?”

They set off that evening to take Marthe Crawford to the home of her fathers, which she had never known.

And they bury her in the dirt of Midculter, which her brother owns and will never own, where Kuzúm knows happiness.

[smoke-in-the-wind]

The Story of Everything

Volume One: “The Beginning” - Beginning of the Universe to Star Formation and Death 

Volume Two: “The Heavens and the Earth” - Planet Formation to Abiogenesis 

Volume Three: “From Dust…” - Cell Formation to First Animals 

Volume Four: “Atlantis” - Cambrian Explosion to Permian Extinction

Volume Five: “Here be Dragons” - Early Triassic to Late Cretaceous Extinction 

Volume Six: “Ecce Homo” - Early Paleogene to Evolution of Humanity 

Volume Seven: “The Word” - Early humans to founding of first cities 

Volume Eight: “Kings of Old” - First Cities to Bronze Age Collapse 

Volume Nine: “Post-Diluvian” - Bronze Age Collapse to Fall of Assyrian Empire 

Volume Ten:   “Empire” - Rise of Babylon to Death of Alexander

Volume Eleven: “Marble and Blood” - Diodachi to Crisis of the Third Century” 

Volume Twelve: “God” - Fall of Han to Muhammad 

Volume Thirteen: “Dark Age” - Tang to Otto the Great 

Volume 14: “ The New Kingdom” - Abbasids to Fall of Baghdad 

Volume 15: “Book of Fires” - Yuan Dynasty to Fall of Constantinople 

Volume 16: “Homo Homini Lupus” - 1492 to 1648

Volume 17: “Brave New World” 1648  to 1815 

Volume 18: “Armageddon” - 1815 to 1945 

Volume 19: “…to Freedom” - 1945 to 1968

Volume 20: “A New Heaven and a New Earth” 1968 - 1991

Volume 21 “The End of History” - 1994 to Present