#medieval finance

[racefortheironthrone]

If the King/Queen of Westeros decided to implement a national bank of Westeros, how would they navigate relationships with the Iron Bank and any perceived competition? Thinking of the same way that the Rogare Bank might have fallen to Faceless Man assassinations?

I would personally recommend a more cooperative policy, because there are definite ways that a Westerosi central bank could be of benefit to the Iron Bank - especially since central banks don't tend to compete with merchant or commercial banks for the same kind of business.

To begin with, the existence of a central bank acting as lender of last resort to Westerosi moneylenders and merchants is going to be good for the Iron Bank's business in Westeros, because that's going to massively reduce the risk of default, which would mean the Iron Bank's loans would see a higher rate of return even at lower interest rates, and likely would lead to an increased volume of business, as more people would be able to afford to take out loans from the Iron Bank.

If the Westerosi central bank is anything like the central banks of Early Modern Europe, it might be quite possible that the Iron Bank would become a minority shareholder in the Westerosi central bank, and quite likely would be one of the central bank's major customers when it comes to the sale of royal bonds - if only because the existence of a central bank would make Westerosi public debt a much sounder investment than under the medieval model.

[upennmanuscripts]

Ms. Codex 849, written in France ca. 1522, is a small book containing recommendations for Francis I concerning the payment and collection of taxes. It's written in a clear humanist script with delightful gold initials alternating red and blue decoration.

🔗:

[kc22invesmentsblog]

Tracing the Origins of Checking Accounts: Ancient Rome's Influence

Written by Delvin Modern banking services have evolved significantly over the centuries, and one such innovation that has stood the test of time is the checking account. Surprisingly, the roots of this financial concept can be traced back to ancient Rome. In this blog post, we will delve into the fascinating history of checking accounts, exploring their origins in ancient Rome and how they have…

[juliettecousin]

🇫🇷/ Oyez Oyez braves gens !

Le financement participatif de MEDIEVAL GIRLFRIENDS commence dans 1 semaine !!

Rendez vous sur le site des éditions Exemplaire du 23 OCTOBRE AU 23 NOVEMBRE pour soutenir le projet! Il y aura pleins de chouettes contreparties pour les participants, accessible pour toutes les bourses.

À très vite 🌟

🇬🇧/ The crowfunding for my upcoming comic MEDIEVAL GIRLFRIENDS starts in 1 week !!

Be sure to check the website of Exemplaire editions from OCTOBER 23 TO NOVEMBER 23 to support this project !

There will be a lot a merch available for the participants, on a large range of prices !

Though it will be publish with a French edition, this will be a silent comic with no dialogue, which make it accessible to the english audience as well !

More infos to come 🌟

[trippedandfell]

Cole please don’t tell me you’re a business major :(

i… can neither confirm or deny

[dream-world-universe]

Florence, Italy: Florence is the capital city of the Italian region of Tuscany. It is also the most populated city in Tuscany. Florence was a centre of medieval European trade and finance and one of the wealthiest cities of that era. The city attracts millions of tourists each year, and UNESCO declared the Historic Centre of Florence a World Heritage Site in 1982. The city is noted for its culture, Renaissance art and architecture and monuments. Wikipedia

[girderednerve]

this post is old but i saw it going around again & it's driving me nuts. this is an extremely bad historical summary? parts of it are outright wrong & the framing is nonsensical, multiple people have chimed in to add "more" information but no one seems to have taken issue with the content of the original post. anyway it's somewhat strange to say that the church 'began forbidding' christians from participating in moneylending (pawnshops are also moneylenders; banking didn't really exist in europe until the latter middle ages), because the text of the bible itself treats loans as a form of charity which should not bear interest between community members. there are a bunch of patristic commentaries to this effect, but there are also a bunch of rabbinic commentaries to this effect! because it was a moral rule for both groups of people, and indeed for muslims! however, to lend money at any sort of scale, you need to charge interest to cover for the risk that you won't be paid back, so there's friction between practical exigency & ethical doctrine. it turns out that there was a centuries-long moral crisis about the expansion of a market economy & the development of finance, which cannot be usefully boiled down to the idea that money was 'unclean' (extremely vague term; also, if the church simply thought that, why were there so many lavish churches & well-heeled priests?). it is broadly true that medieval european jews were excluded, often violently, from fully participating in christian society & that several engaged in moneylending, using the out-group loophole to lend at interest to gentiles. however, a bunch of christians just lent money anyway; actually, most moneylenders in medieval christendom were christians, and most jews did other work. the idea that jews were substantially engaged in early finance was first an antisemitic myth, propagated by christians who were trying to resolve the moral & practical conflict of moneylending by displacing it; then it was a philosemitic myth, recuperated by late nineteenth century scholars who saw in jewish moneylenders evidence of a unique jewish contribution to the development of europe. but it never reflected the daily lives of most medieval jews & we can do better than this, guys, come on

[cooliestghouliest]

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.

word count: 4k+

cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.

notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈

Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.

As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.

While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:

“You need to pick up more shifts.”

You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.

Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.

Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.

Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.

Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.

You felt like he already did.

This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.

Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.

He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.

The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand. 

The rest is history.

“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.

“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”

He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.

“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”

Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.

“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”

You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.

And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.

“Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”

“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”

He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”

A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.

It was all part of your grander birthday plan.

You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.

Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.

Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.

“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”

Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.

While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.

You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.

By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.

“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”

You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”

But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.

You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.

Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.

“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.

Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”

“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.

He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.

“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.

“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”

His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.

Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?

Jesus, how did he get so lucky?

“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.

He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.

You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.

But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.

You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.

“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.

You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.

All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.

Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.

“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.

He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.

“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.

Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.

“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”

“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”

Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.

“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.

Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.

It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”

Evil woman.

Evil, perfect woman.

Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.

“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.

“Yeah, dude! We got this!”

Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.

Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.

“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.

“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”

You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.

“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.

He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”

“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”

And that’s what does it.

Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.

Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.

You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.

He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.

He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.

Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.

“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.

He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.

That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.

“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.

You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.

Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.

“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”

Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.

“Mean,” you pouted.

Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.

“Oh, I will be.”

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Alan Johnson: "Antisemitism explained in 846 words:

Antisemitism is the rumour about 'the Jews'.

It has taken on radically different forms and supposed ‘rationales’ in different cultures at different times.

Antisemitism isn’t just a prejudice against Jews.

It is also a fear of their supposedly tremendous (but always hidden) power to shape the world.

Antisemitism is an irrational fantasy, often linked to wild conspiracies and apocalyptic visions of the world.

For the antisemite, the powers of the Jew are unlimited: indeed they verge on the supernatural or devilish.

The Jews (but today, often, ‘the Zionists’) are seen to control everything: they run global media, finance and politics, they start wars, run the slave trade, do 9/11 (while warning all the Jews about it the night before), cause financial systems to crash, and organise fake antisemitism crises – such as the one in the Labour Party, supposedly contrived by Jews to bring down Jeremy Corbyn.

In that sense, antisemitism sometimes functions in some different ways to other prejudices, other racisms. (Which is not to say it is any ‘worse’ than any other prejudice. There is no league table. All racisms are unique and all are to be fought.)

The leading US democratic socialist Michael Walzer argues antisemitism has been ‘a tool in many different intellectual efforts, religious and secular, to understand the world and to denounce opposing understandings of the world’.

Similarly, another socialist, Steve Cohen, in his pioneering study of left antisemitism That’s Funny You Don’t Look Antisemitic, pointed out that antisemitism, ‘provides its adherents with a universal and generalised interpretation of the world’.

Medieval priests made one claim about ‘the Jews’, Enlightenment philosophers made another. The Nazi SS officer had his claim, as did the Stalinist Central Committee Member.

Each told a different story about the supposedly alien, all-powerful, always malevolent and always tricksy Jew.

Each story has served to justify a murderous attack upon the Jews who have been indicted, through history, as:

the betrayer and killer of the universal God, drainer of gentile blood, poisoner of the wells, etc (Medieval Christian antisemitism): the tribal anachronism, the enemy of the Age of Reason (Enlightenment antisemitism); the rootless cosmopolitan, everywhere the enemy of and fifth column within organic nations (Counter-Enlightenment antisemitism); the biologically programmed threat to all races, to be eliminated to the last child (Nazi antisemitism); the sons of apes and pigs who will be killed on a Day of Judgment (some forms of Islam and modern Islamic antisemitism); the arch-capitalist exploiter – to be hung from the lampposts as German Communist Ruth Fischer put it (Left antisemitism).

Today, in addition to all of the above (each of which is still with us; they all co-mingle, today), there is a new form of antisemitism which has been the consequence of the birth of a Jewish State – Israel – and the demonisation of it.

‘Zionism’, properly understood as a movement of national liberation for the Jewish people, is demonised by the new antisemitism through the antisemitic ideas of the ‘The Zios’, ‘The Zionists’, ‘Global Zionism’ and ‘the all-powerful Jewish Lobby’.

Once it was ‘the Jew’ now it is ‘the Zionist’ that is absolutely malign, still controlling the world for Jewish purposes, and still string-pulling.

The Zionists’ power is still cast as virtually unlimited, still exercised through their hidden control of global media, political parties and governments, and global finance, still pulling the wool over the eyes of the poor gentiles for Jewish purposes.

They are still uniquely evil, cast as the modern-day Nazis no less. This is antisemitism ‘dressed up’ as anti-Zionism.

Maybe Dave Rich explains things in the clearest terms: ‘Nowadays antisemitism often appears in discourse relating to Israel, either by targeting Israel itself as a proxy for Jews or by repeating old antisemitic slanders with “Israel” or “Zionist” swapped in for the word “Jew”.’ He goes on: ‘Antisemitism in today’s Labour Party … usually involves language that draws on old racist lies about Jews, but reframes the bigotry in a modern, “anti-Zionist” setting that has nothing to do with what Zionism is, or with how Israel actually behaves.’1

In short, that which the demonised Jew once was in older forms of antisemitism, demonised Israel now is in contemporary antisemitic anti-Zionism: all-controlling, the hidden hand, tricksy, always acting in bad faith, the obstacle to a better, purer, more spiritual world, uniquely malevolent, full of blood lust, uniquely deserving of punishment, and so on.

In consequence, as historian David Nirenberg, author of the seminal work Anti-Judaism: The History of a Way of Thinking, puts it, ‘We live in an age in which millions of people are exposed daily to some variant of the argument that the challenges of the world they live in are best explained in terms of "Israel’".

In every single iteration of antisemitism, including the latest, the antisemite believes there is a utopia that humankind could reach if we could just - as they put it - get the bloody Jews out of the way. Every antisemite thinks they are on the 'right side of history'.

And not one ever has been.''

[gavillain]

I was talking with @marciabrady the other night about ships and the aesthetics of our favorite couples, and it made me really want to do a break down of one of my obscure crossover OTPs:

Grimhilde/Cruella, a.k.a. EvilPuppies!

Because I feel like Grimhilde/Cruella, out of all my ships, looks the most like crack at first glance, but there is so much more to it than just sticking two random Disney Villains together.

So, first and foremost, I started shipping them because of Kingdom Keepers Book IV, Power Play:

Despite the fact that Frollo is on the cover of the book and was the heavily promoted new Overtaker before the release of the novel, the main villains of the novel are actually Grimhilde and Cruella. The premise is that after Maleficent and Chernabog were captured at the end of the previous book, the Disney Villains who are trying to take over the parks have had to take on new leadership to get Maleficent and Chernabog out of Imagineer-prison. Grimhilde is the next in the chain of command, so she's in charge and has Cruella De Vil as her companion who follows her everywhere. They are ALWAYS together in the book, and Cruella, naturally, has a very flirty and complimentary demeanor towards Grimhilde that the Queen naturally just adores. Their chemistry is great, and there is even one part where the main hero finds the two of them asleep together on an air mattress and a bundle of furs (it makes sense in context) and, well... yeah XD The novel really glued the two of them together in my head.

And that togetherness, as you can see above, blends over into the parks. Grimhilde and Cruella are the only two main Disney Villainesses who are out with some regularity as face characters in Disneyland. All of the villains in the Disney Parks have a familiarity with each other, and you can get similar gal pal dynamics with them and Maleficent (and Lady Tremaine) around Halloween time. However, because Grimhilde and Cruella are out together for so much of the year, they tend to carry the brunt of that sort of "evil besties" friendship, leading to cute photo op moments like this...

So Disney is already doing a lot of the leg work to make them come across as girlfriends and to give them chemistry and a ship dynamic. However, if that was all there was to it, I probably wouldn't love this ship as much as I do. I need that interesting and thought through layer of shipping, and thankfully, these two have it in spades.

So, despite being from different time periods and wildly different worlds, Grimhilde and Cruella are aristocrats through and through. Grimhilde is literally royalty, and Cruella an over-financed heiress to the remnants of England's aristocracy (and she's the head of a corporate fashion empire in the Glenn Close movies). The House of De Vil dates back to medieval times, and evidence of that extensive and wealthy history is littered all around Cruella's mansion.

Cruella is in essence, the remnants of an old world that no longer exists, one of royalty and station that Grimhilde herself was a part of, and though the times have changed, Cruella keeps that class and regality alive. In that way, I think it blends perfectly with her taking on a lover who is quite literally OF that time period, and it also helps tie Grimhilde in with the modern world, giving Grimhilde a sort of immortality and transcendence that I think she'd very much value with her desire to be eternally young and beautiful. And, along those same lines, they are both very strong examples of matriarchal authority and power with Cruella bemoaning the uselessness of men and the pitfalls of women losing themselves to marriage, whilst Grimhilde murdered her own husband in order to reign alone without a man over her. They fundamentally get the sort of twisted villainous feminism that they are peddling.

Next is the themes of beauty and glamor. These are two women who are fundamentally motivated by vanity - Cruella wants to design her original Dalmatian puppy coat and stun the art world with her ruthless originality whilst Grimhilde wants to kill her stepdaughter so that she can reign as the Fairest One of All. For them, beauty and aesthetics are absolute, and they share a willingness to buy their glamorous ambitions with the blood of the innocent. They would fundamentally GET each other in that regard. However, and this is important, they GET that same motivation for vanity, but they don't COMPETE with each other. Cruella is a pretty woman, but she's older and she's a chain smoker whose habits have caused her to become a bit emaciated. She's beautiful in her own way, but she's never going to rival Grimhilde as the Fairest One of All. Likewise, though Grimhilde has extravagant fashions and jewelry, she's not setting out to be at the forefront of clothing design and art. She would certainly WEAR outfits Cruella designed for her, but she wouldn't want to supplant Cruella either. They're going to make the world kneel before their beauty, but they're going to compliment each other rather than rival each other or have to set aside their vanities for each other.

Then one of the big important elements that makes this ship appeal to me so much is the motif of DUALITY. Cruella is noteworthy for her hair that is half-black and half-white. It's her signature style, she's well known for it, it ties in with the black and white dogs, and it ties in with how she has her likable and admirable public face but also her sinister and dark side that the rest of the world doesn't see. Grimhilde also has the duality motif. Hell, she has BLACK HAIR as the Queen and WHITE hair as the hag, and the whole black and white motif shows up in her potions ("Black of Night" and "To Whiten My Hair, a Scream of Fright"). Grimhilde literally has two faces and two forms. She is two villainesses in one, which is such a tasty match for the woman with infamously two-toned hair. And what I like about that too is that Cruella BLENDS with both the Queen and the Hag. With the queen, she has the aristocratic and blue blood regality and beauty that I mentioned before, but with the hag, she has the cackling maniacal bloodthirsty side that would have an absolute riot bringing death to innocents. It's so symbolic, and they're the only Disney villains who have that duality motif in that fashion.

And the fact that they have all of these interesting parallels and motifs while also being from two different worlds and two different time periods (medieval and modern) is a lot of fun purely from a crossover perspective but also as ANOTHER manifestation of their duality motif! And THAT is the type of tasty shipping fuel that I LIVE for!

So with Grimhilde and Cruella being of two different time periods, they also simultaneously coexist in one time period. Cruella in the original animated film may have been released in the 1960s, but her animator, Marc Davis, designed her to be a throwback to the old Hollywood glamor of the 1930s. Most specifically Tallulah Bankhead...

And Marlene Dietrich...

Cruella is pure Old Hollywood 1930s glamor trapped in a late 50s/early 60s modern domestic setting. And you know whose movie was made in the 1930s and has a very 1930s cultural aesthetic to it?

And Grimhilde herself is designed based on ANOTHER 1930s film villainess, She (Who Must Be Obeyed):

A movie that was famous for its Art Deco sets, and Art Deco is one of the main aesthetic motifs attributed to Cruella in the Glenn Close movies. So stylistically speaking, the two of them despite coming from different time periods and different worlds coexist in a way that is very old Hollywood. And with that combined link to the 30s, it helps the two of them to coexist peacefully and harmoniously in the same time period. They meet in this glamorous and mythologized liminal space. Heck, with Cruella's aesthetic links to the 1930s, I personally headcanon that she grew up absolutely obsessed with old Hollywood and making a concentrated effort to emulate that energy in her own style. Since Grimhilde is kind of an Old Hollywood character come to life, it's almost like Cruella can be a fangirl of something that she's admired for her whole life when she gets with Grimhilde, and you know Grimhilde is gonna LOVE that attention.

In addition, I personally like to be very cognizant about my ships with regards to what the individual character is going to look for in terms of a romantic partner and why the character that I've chosen for them suits that specific need. With Grimhilde, we know that she was married to Snow White's father and that she killed him, so we know that she didn't have any real love for that man, possibly any man. She rules over her kingdom alone and doesn't want anyone to rule beside her. In the Snow White comics and deleted scenes from the film, she showcases a sort of romantic rivalry for Prince Florian, but her affections for him are never about wanting an equal. She wants him because he is young and handsome and compliments her beauty and elevates her image in a way that helps give her more power through her beauty. So for Grimhilde, she needs a lover who can fill that niche - not someone to rival her or rule beside her, but someone who can be a perfect accessory to her beauty. Cruella being all about fashion and style is absolutely that person. She's very cognizant of appearances and what can accentuate or take away from beauty and aesthetics. That inherent utility to their relationship means that it would be something that Grimhilde would be open to indulging, and from there deeper feelings can develop under the right circumstances in a way that they wouldn't without having that utility first.

So that's Grimhilde's side of things. But what about Cruella? Well, we see Cruella's relation with love mostly revolving around this sort of one sided attraction that she has to Anita. And at first glance that seems contradictory to her getting with the queen, because Cruella is obviously going after a dainty and demure woman who she can kind of steamroll and collect as another fashion accessory. However, I think what makes this work so well is that it really showcases that Cruella has an attraction to traditional feminine beauty and women in general, and Grimhilde is of course is the fairest woman of all. The Glen Close movie adds an interesting dynamic to Cruella's attraction to Anita in that she enjoys the creative interaction that she has with Anita. Never really noticed Anita until the two of them started to collaborate creatively, and I feel like that's a big thing that Cruella needs and wants in a partner, someone who engages that creative side of her brain and understands her drive for aesthetics and beauty. And, as previously stated, who better to do that than the Queen of beauty herself? Grimhilde is a perfect model of unlimited dramatic creativity wrapped in a feminine and beautiful package that would set Cruella's heart ablaze.

Together the two of them fulfill that perfect niche for each other and foster a creative, beautiful, and bloodthirsty ruthless energy that would make them feel seen and supported. They effectively create their own little world of 1930s fantasy glamor when they come together, and that's just beautiful to me.

Those are the biggies, but some other really fun pieces of shipping fuel: *I love the aesthetic they have with them both being tall women with dramatic almost drag queen makeup and outfits that have tones of black, white, and red in their own signature styles. And Cruella has the flowing fur coat with the red liner and Grimhilde has the flowing cape with the red liner and so they can be very flouncy and twirly with their styles. *Grimhilde keeps a royal huntsman who can kill all of the animals for Cruella whenever she wants. *They both have similar structures to their stories - they start out on friendly or familial terms with the protagonists before they show their true colors, then they entrust men to kill the innocent creatures needed to enact their plan but those men fail them, forcing Grimhilde and Cruella to take matters into their own hands, and then the finales showcase them both transforming into frightening demented versions of themselves (old hag and crazy demon eyes Cruella during the car chase) madly pursuing their goals until they ultimate bring about their own defeats by the environment turning against them *Cruella has the green smoke of her cigarette which echoes the green and smoke of the Magic Mirror, and also Cruella's chain smoking being a sort of poison in and of itself links back nicely to Grimhilde's literal poisons. *OUAT gives Cruella magic powers and ties to the Author, and Grimhilde also has magic powers and is a literal storybook villain.

So, yes, at first glance, EvilPuppies may seem like just a crackship, but it's really not. There is SO much here in both their canon interactions and in their numerous parallels, and there are honestly probably even more that I'm forgetting. They are the crowning queens of femslash for me for good reason, and I adore them, darlings!

[racefortheironthrone]

Could the Iron Throne be able to issue bonds, to finance its expenses, instead of going to the Iron Bank for a loan?

A government issuing bonds is the same thing as the government taking out a loan. The main difference is that, in the case of issuing a bond, the government is spreading out its borrowing between many lenders by selling bonds on the open market to anyone who wants to buy them rather than having that loan owed to a single entity like the Iron Bank. This means that the government is less beholden to any one creditor and it's less likely that the government's creditors can use their economic leverage to affect government policy.

The second advantage of structuring government debt through bonds is that it allows the government to break its total borrowing needs into smaller, more affordable units. Very few financial institutions would have had the capital to finance the £1,200,000 that made up the government's inaugural loan at the Bank of England in 1690 - but a lot more people could afford to lend the government £10, £25, £50, or £100 pounds.

Between this and later innovations in marketing bonds to the general public, the market for government debt was massively expanded. Not only did this create a class of rentiers who were now personally invested in the government's success, but it also immediately deepened the capital markets by creating a large supply of stable assets that could be bought and sold and borrowed against. While some of the shortcomings of the Hamilton musical and Chernow's biography have become more obvious in hindsight, they're not wrong about the impact of Hamilton's policies as Treasury Secretary on the development of the American economy.

The difficulty facing the Iron Throne in adapting an early modern system of government finance is that it doesn't have the state capacity to run this kind of an operation: it doesn't have a central bank to act as the government's marketer, issuer of banknotes, and lender of last resort; it doesn't have a sinking fund to manage the level and price of debt; it hasn't issued charters to merchant's guilds or joint-stock companies that could combine the small capital of individuals and thus more easily afford to buy bonds; and it doesn't have enough literate people who've studied accounting to staff a royal bureaucracy large enough to coordinate and keep records of all of this economic activity.

[upennmanuscripts]

For this week's #CoffeeWithACodex (Thursday, March 28, 12pm Noon EST on Zoom) Curator Dot Porter will bring out Ms. Codex 19, a 14th century list of rents due to one Ithier Bonea, seignor des Brousses (France). Most of the listings of tenants are by parish, occasionally by town. Note that until the end of March, the US is only four hours ahead of the UK! Plan accordingly!

Register here:

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Analysis on card symbolism of antagonist trio.

Liu Xiao, Vein and Xia Fei.

Tagging @ammiya

The picture:

I already mentioned cards in my previous Liu Xiao's preview analysis but I'd like to repeat it and explain it further. Card games have a profound astrological connection due to the deep astrological characteristics hidden inside the symbols of cards. The four card suits - hearts (♥), Diamonds (♦), Spades (♠), and Clubs (♣) symbolise various aspects of society and human life.

Note the fact that there's different types of cards play such as poker, tarots and etc. All these symbols might have different meanings in different card plays. Hence why I added tarots, Cartomancy and etc here.

Clubs (Liu Xiao) Card Symbol - The Suit of Prosperity and Ambitions:The Club represents the summer season. This suit of cards indicates the " youth " stage when one focuses on education, recklessness, etc. A Club symbol represents the element of earth. In Cartomancy, Clubs are similar to the wands suit in a tarot deck. The club suit defines change and action that’s swiftly coming. Clubs = Wands (also called Staves) in Tarot and they represent activity, energy, business, and work. In Poker, clubs are the prototypical workers. They like both plans and actions. They are about activities and getting things done. They are often driven by success in the business world. I'm sure the definition, except the recklessness, already speaks for Liu Xiao's character. But to add more information, I'd like to mention that the club symbol represents strength and achievement, Growth and Agriculture: The three-leaf clover shape of the club symbol has led to associations with growth and agriculture. In this interpretation, the club may symbolize the planting and cultivation of crops.

Warfare: In certain regions and times, the club symbol has been associated with warfare or weapons, possibly because of its resemblance to a mace or a truncheon. However, this interpretation is not as widespread.

Bastion of Authority: In some contexts, the club symbol has been seen as a representation of authority or power, similar to a scepter or a symbol of leadership. This interpretation is less common but has been proposed by some. Oh Liu Xiao is definitely the type of person to be in charge of things. Even in his preview, we see that he's being worshipped as if he was an emperor or god itself (yet the symbolism of satanism is strong in the preview). He has authority, no matter in what way you will see it. He's leader.

Diamonds (Vein) Card Symbol - The Suit of Luxury and Elegance:This card suit represents the autumn or fall season. It symbolizes advancing one's career, embodying progress, ethics, stability, commitment and the air element. In Cartomancy, Diamonds are similar to the disks or pentacles suit in a tarot deck. The diamond suit is all about money, confidence, and finances. That's not all. Aside from card games, diamonds symbolise strength and resilience. For many spiritual seekers today, diamonds hold significant meaning. They are believed to enhance spiritual enlightenment and provide clarity of thought and purpose. The way diamonds capture and reflect light serves as a potent symbol of the divine, guiding individuals toward higher consciousness and inner peace. In history, the ancient Greeks believed that diamonds were the teardrops of these heavenly spirits or gods. Consequently, the Ancient Greeks had a complex relationship with diamonds – they were either revered, feared or tremendously treasured.Moving on from the Greeks to the Romans, who believed that diamonds were invincible and couldn’t be pierced by a sword or splintered by merely being trodden upon, they would use them in a way that would be considered sacrilege today. Unbelievably, they wore a diamond as part of their armour, believing that it made them invincible. In particular, the leader of an army such as a king would wear a breastplate studded with diamonds. This tradition was then adopted by medieval knights who believed the same myth.Meanwhile in the ancient Far East, different diamond theories were brewing. Because of a diamond’s brilliant, mirror-like reflective effect and hardness, diamonds were thought of as being able to ward off a range of unwanted ‘things’ or circumstances. These included ill health, poverty, bad spirits, fire, snakes, rats, poison and more.The Egyptians were famous for sending off their deceased loved ones with food and finery so they’d be fine on the next leg of their journey. And it was the same with gold and diamonds. Don't think that the diamond was chosen for merely any form of jewellery for crowns but was literally set as the crown jewel, denoting dominion, influence, superiority, power and status. Aristocrats and world leaders would also exchange diamond gifts as signs of allegiance, or wear diamond jewellery as a show of power once a new territory had been conquered.

Now to assign these to Vein, (firstly, please note the fact that I have not analysed Vein's preview as thoughtfully as Liu Xiao's and Xia Fei's.) he's confident man, quite rich and money doesn't seem to be his problem. Vein is viewed someone as of high status and hence is both feared and worshipped, just like diamonds. About ill health, I'm not sure if Vein dyed his hair or if it is natural but if it is then he probably has oculocutaneous albinism (OCA). People with genetic changes in both the OCA2 and MC1R genes have many of the usual features of oculocutaneous albinism type 2, including light-colored eyes and vision problems. However, these individuals typically have red hair instead of the usual yellow, blond, or light brown hair seen in people with this condition. And while humans do not naturally have red or violet eyes. Occasionally, though, people with albinism can appear to have red or violet eyes in certain lights. This is a product of light hitting blood vessels at the back of the eye. On top of that, he has light skin which is common in albinism. Albinism doesn't equal to ill health, but I wanted to mention this since it's a condition and rare at that.

Spades (Xia Fei) Card Symbol - The Suit of Challenges and Resilience:The Spade symbolises the winter season. When humans gain knowledge, acceptance, and transformation, it is called the gift of “old age.” This symbol represents the element of water. In Cartomancy, Spades are similar to the sword suit in a tarot deck. The spade suit represents communication and challenges. In poker, spades is the highest suit. And during the Vietnam War, the Ace of Spades was the symbol of luck for our soldiers, the emblem used to identify friendlies, and the psychological weapon used to instill fear into our enemies known as the Death Card.

Let's not forget that Spades is a card game that uses a regular deck of cards, sometimes with the Jacks included. It’s a strategy game that requires a good mix of skill and luck, with players aiming to get points up to a predetermined score, similar to other points-based games like Cribbage.The objective of Spades is to obtain a certain score, typically set at 500 points. Players accumulate points by ‘making a contract’–playing the same amount of tricks bid at the start of each round. A ‘trick’ is a play, while a ‘bid’ is a prediction. If a player bids five tricks, then their goal is to win five times in a round, which would constitute making five contracts. They may win a few more times than that but to a given limit.Spades is traditionally played in pairs, but it can also be played solo with up to five players. In a two- or four-player game, every player is given thirteen cards. In a three-player game, players are dealt seventeen cards each. In a five-player game, everyone gets ten cards.At the start of each round, players make a bid. The first player then leads the game with a suit, with all other players required to put down a card within the same suit. If a player can’t do so, they must play a Spade, which is this game’s trump card, or discard.If a Space is played, everyone must follow suit. If a player doesn’t have a Spade on hand, they’ll likely have to bid zero at the beginning of the round.Every contract is awarded ten points. ‘Overtricks,’ also known as ‘bags,’ which refer to tricks made above the declared big (i.e. extra wins), are given one point each (within limits–if a player goes beyond, they may be penalized with negative points). For example, if a player bids five and wins eight tricks, they receive fifty-three points (fifty from the five contracts, plus three for the overtricks).

Lot of people describe Xia Fei to have heart's characteristics which is big mischaracterisation. Heart symbolizes childhood, emotions and sincerity. Xia Fei is not being sincere and genuine, especially to himself. Someone like him, who puts on masks, can't have heart as his card symbol and hence why I think Spades is good choice for him. Not only can it be tricky game, but it has tons of different meanings and definitions (and Xia Fei puts on tons of masks to hide himself). Like how Spade is both good luck card and death card which will confuse you: which one are you supposed to believe? Well, are you an ally? Or enemy? As I mentioned, for soldiers/allies it was good luck card but enemies feared it as it was death card for them. I don't think anything can describe Xia Fei as good as this. He's both good luck and "death" at the same time. This, again, tells us that Xia Fei could be two faced person and also that there's lot more in him than meets an eye. While an enemy can't imagine him as Good Luck Card, an ally can't imagine him as Death Card.

Honestly, we even see great example of this in Liu Xiao's preview. When he's playing against his (and Xia Fei's) opponents, he uses Ace of Spades (a death card, which can be said that it's Xia Fei).

I mentioned that in poker (which, here, is being played in the preview) Spades are highest suit. I'd argue and say, Xia Fei is strongest card out of all cards (Liu Xiao & Vein) because of whatever his ability is. But it probably has something to do with death itself.

On top of that, his symbolism concerns communication and we know from his preview how he, in fact, can't communicate his feelings well. His card symbolism also points at transformation. Now, what is transformation? It's a process by which one figure, expression, or function is converted into another one, a dramatic change in form or appearance. We have seen this in Xia Fei quite often in his preview.

He immediately changed once he was left alone, yet with people he's all smiley and completely different person. Also how he changes his jobs.

[whencyclopedia]

Henry VIII of England

Henry VIII of England ruled as king from 1509 to 1547 CE. The second Tudor king after his father Henry VII of England (r. 1485-1509 CE), Henry had inherited a kingdom which enjoyed both unity and sound finances. Famous for his six wives as he searched for a male heir, the king was charismatic and domineering. In order to escape his first marriage, Henry set himself against the Pope and so began the Reformation of the Church in England whereby it broke away from Rome and the English monarch became its supreme head. A larger-than-life figure, Henry centralised government, further absorbed Wales into his kingdom, saw to the Dissolution of the Monasteries, formed the Royal Navy and built magnificent palaces such as St. James' in London. When Henry died, though, in 1547 CE, he was succeeded by his juvenile son Edward VI of England (r. 1547-1553 CE) and he left him an impoverished kingdom split over religious issues.

Henry Tudor

Henry Tudor had defeated and killed Richard III of England (r. 1483-1485 CE) at the Battle of Bosworth in August 1485 CE in the last major action of England's dynastic dispute known as the Wars of the Roses (1455-1487 CE). The House of Lancaster had finally defeated the House of York but Henry, crowned Henry VII of England in October 1485 CE, was intent on creating a brand new ruling house: the Tudors. Henry married Elizabeth of York (b. 1466 CE), daughter of Edward IV of England (r. 1461-70 & 1471-83 CE), on 18 January 1486 CE and he even combined the livery badges of York and Lancaster to create a new royal symbol: the Tudor Rose. England was about to enter the post-medieval era with a new look and a new type of monarchy.

Continue reading...

[juliettecousin]

✨ Here comes the Big announcement !! ✨

I'm currently working on a Medieval Girlfriends comic book with @exemplaire_editions, more specifically their new edition @kopi_editions, a manga-inspired comics collection !

I'm super thrilled to finally give a proper story to these characters I've been drawing for so long, I can't wait to show you more !

This comic will be financed through a crowdfunding that will be launch next month, more infos on this new project soon !

[sseomtada]

being [ruben dias]

your move to Manchester signifies a triumph - the result of nearly a decade of relentless, hard work. However, your sweet victory is quickly turned sour when you reencounter the person you once deeply loved.

a/n: remade secretly only to be back on my bs...here's to praying for me to finish this fic? | 1/??? | 4191 words

This weather was nothing short of an utter atrocity.

It was the kind of bone-chilling freeze that overpowered even your skin's ability to raise its own flesh. Every ounce of energy repurposed instead to turn that evolutionary feature inwards. A futile effort, at least in your case. Even back home in Amadora, you suffered from genetic lack of internal warmth.

Miserable environment aside, the move would be worth it. Everything that you’ve done for the past few years - nearly a decade of sleep deprivation, being the brunt bearer of power trips and clinging to the slimmest sliver of rarely presented opportunities - had led to this.

Not the brutalist view spanning the length of your new floor to ceiling living room windows, but what it signified. Growth. The expansion of your firm here, in Manchester.

“Estou exausta…”

You pulled your eyes from the endless clouds to see your right hand, Aki, draped limply over the last of your boxes.

“Careful.” You bent to rip open the tape sealing the one near your feet.

“Oh, sorry.” She blew her overgrown bangs up to no avail. “Am I crushing your precious CB2 ceramics?”

“Actually, you’re slowly sinking onto my very sharp surgical steel kitchen knives.” The box cutter in your hand gestured vaguely to the label beneath her hips.

Aki’s yelp echoed off through the empty loft as she sprang from the impending mockup of a medieval torture method. Your laughter joined in when she grimaced and muttered something threatening to the thick cardboard that remained dent free.

“Thanks for helping me with all this.” You exhaled. “I owe you.”

“We’re even when you think about it.” She fetched a box opener of her own.

Your eyes widened. There was never a moment in your lifelong friendship when she didn’t take up on an IOU card. Not even when she purposefully served a suspension for knocking the lights out of a girl who blew gum into your hair in the fifth grade.

“I mean, you brought me along with you to open Bana. Full executive package, no less.” Aki beamed and then sneered upon unboxing her newfound arch nemeses.

That was true. Since she was the company’s Head of Finance, her immigration to Manchester was completed covered. Housing located right across the hallway, a brand new car of choice and an increase in salary to accommodate for the higher price of living wasn't the worst package to receive.

It didn’t feel like much of a repayment for her efforts when all things were considered. Bana wouldn’t be close to what it was today if it wasn’t for her. Any business was only as successful as how well they manage their finances, an aspect that she can solely and proudly take credit for.

Not to mention that you both would be extremely busy while trying to fully establish this new branch. If anything, she at least deserved the building’s penthouse suite for the headaches bound to come throughout this journey.

“So…is that a pass on the 1982 Bruno Giacosa?” You dangled the proverbial carrot.

Aki didn’t miss a beat, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Getting ready for your first day at the office never felt this good.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that your first ever job was, understandably, anxiety inducing. Being an intern for a well-known marketing firm wasn’t known to be a glamorous position - the multitude of reasons for that not stopping at being a coffee gopher.

After climbing the ladder to a mid-level position within your previous company, it became painfully obvious that the older leaders had no intention of making room for you soon. To eradicate any dreams of that from your mind, they even outright said it.

That led to your next go at a first day, the start of your own consultancy which would then go on to become Bana. Even though you had established your presence in the marketing world and had a few loyal clients, no amount of seminars you’d attended or books you’d read could’ve prepared you for the monster of a task you’d taken on.

This time felt different. There was always going to be an element of nervousness when stepping into a new venture. Even though this was a new branch on a tree you knew well, there was a lot to learn about operating in a new country and little time to do so.

What you had now, however, allowed you to convert that nervous energy into excitement. Experience, establishment and esteem. Those things among the equally as important trustworthy team behind you left you more confident than anything else that this could potentially only be the beginning.

“There better be a good reason why you’ve got me out early on a morning like this.” Aki’s poor facial muscles have yet to relax since the move it seemed. This time their scrunch was due to storm clouds looming in the distance.

“I think our very lovely AD has something exciting to share.” You nodded to give her the go ahead.

“Ladies, as you know I’ve been working on getting us an in with a certain business through my various sources and I’m happy to report that Bana was among the firms selected to pitch.” Cindy could barely contain her excitement.

Her optimism was infectious and part of the reason you recruited her. Another reason for bringing her into the fold to establish the new office was the insane network she had.

The blonde Londoner was in a similar predicament to you when you were starting out not long aog. Even hungrier, if you admitted it. Her former employer didn’t see the potential she clearly possessed, so you had no problem poaching her from them.

“And do we finally get to know the name of this state secret level business?” Aki leaned forward.

“Nike!” Cindy couldn't hold back any longer.

Even your face dropped at that. Not in the way that one’s expression would if they just found out that they’d been rejected from their dream school. It was something akin to finding out you’d won a fucking Oscar.

Among the celebratory cheers and shimmies, you thanked Cindy greatly for her hard work. And although it was a moment of uncontainable joy, the wheels had already began to turn in your mind.

There was absolutely no room for error if you wanted this pitch to be chosen. Being a newer firm undoubtably going up against major competition, Bana’s proposal had to be more than just that.

It had to be a statement. One that said you were not only a major player in this field, but that you also were to be seen as a direct rival.

You got to delegating tasks quickly. The sooner you got the bare bones of the pitch down, the quicker you could work on perfecting it. Aki was on budgeting as always - pricing presentation materials, researching and pricing the estimated budget for the product rollout for Nike.

Cindy was mostly on recon regarding the target audience. The product being launched was a new pair of their iconic AirMax, so you anticipated her using historical data as a guideline.

You’d have to do a fair bit of research yourself - getting into market research, the brand’s positioning and messaging - all while putting your firm’s spin on where you think Nike is hoping to go with this launch.

It was needless to say that the midnight oil would be burning. You set up a co-working space in the conference room to make communication seamless in brainstorming and building. This was the energy you missed so much, and a more sentimental reason behind your expansion.

Back home in Amadora, Bana was a well oiled machine. With a strong staff beside you, the hands on aspects of marketing were placed on the back burner by your own doing. In order for your employees to grow, you had to let them lead projects of their own and you trusted them to do so.

Now, you were back to inhaling concerning amounts of dry erase marker fumes and getting carpal tunnel from extensive mood boarding. That along with a side of meal deliveries and an equally as hard-working coffee machine made the long hours seemingly fly by.

“I’m so tapped, I need to power down for the day.” Aki stretched her back dramatically.

“Feel free to head out too, Cindy. Get some well deserved rest.” You took a moment of your own to release tension in your neck. “I’m good here for the next few hours.”

She was visibly grateful to be given the go ahead to clock out. From past experiences, you were able to sympathize all too well. You also made a mental note to have a conversation with her regarding working hours. There was never going to be an obligation of staying behind under your watch.

Cindy and Aki neatly organized materials for their return in the morning while you made your way to your office to continue outlining. With all of the research required collected, all you had to do at this point was place the information into their allocated areas.

There were three short raps at your door before you called her in.

“Still being here wasn’t exactly what I meant by rest, Cindy.” You chuckled, not looking away from your monitors.

“I’m on my way out now! Just wanted to bring you over the client mailing list I got from my source a minute ago.” She slid a USB drive onto your desk.

Your brows raised appreciatively, “Thank you, really. I mean it when I say that your presence here is essential and invaluable.”

Cindy waved a hand, her head shaking in time.

“I’m just happy to be helpful. See you tomorrow!”

You bid her goodbye and immediately got to taking a look at the information she left behind. It would be very useful in filling in some gaps you needed to flush out ideas that would attract the goal audience for the new product.

Influencers, Performing Artists, YouTubers…Athletes.

The last of those categories was obviously a given considering the brand. It also wasn’t the first time you’d come across that group in your line of work. This time though, seeing the label suddenly formed a knot in your stomach.

You were brought back to all of the avoidance in the aftermath - everyone in your life completely air-gapping the football world from your path. They did that to protect you, a gesture you still couldn’t bring yourself to thank them for verbally.

The mouse beneath your hot palm slowly shifted as you moved the cursor to click and expand the list. That knot grew to the size of a boulder. It squeezed your insides painfully within and forced a broken little noise past your lips.

One look at the name Ruben Dias was all it took to rattle you to your core.

o passado

At the age of seven, you moved to Portugal.

There wasn’t much you missed about your hometown, or even remembered for that matter. All you knew was that you were eerily calm for a child whose entire life up until that point had been uprooted. It was possible that your serene state of mind came from your mom.

She was all you had in the world. There was virtually no relationship had with her family - the only photograph you ever had with your grandparents was at your christening.

When it came to your dad, she put it as kindly as she could for a kid. You were smart enough to read the inference in her tone and the look on her face in the handful of moments he was brought up. He wasn’t in your life because he didn’t want to be.

Yet still, none of that made you sad or shaped you into a person defined by traumas. You intended to live the life that your mother encouraged you to. Be a kid, climb trees and get dirty, make friends along the way.

And that was just what you did. The first of them being the girl in your class that waved you over to the empty seat beside hers when you transferred. My name’s Akenna, but I hate it so I make everyone call me Aki instead.

She was the only person other than your mom who made you feel safe enough to confide in, just as easy to talk to as it was to listen to her wild recounts of her own life story.

Aki quickly became a regular in your home and you in hers. The giggles and secrets held in the various forts sprawling from your living room to bedroom would stay under lock and key until long after you both passed.

The next person you met would be the one who arguably shaped you the most. Loud shouts and tussling with a ball in the neighborhood park with his siblings was where you met Ruben. His tattered football rolled to your feet that touched the ground after you’d leapt from the swings.

With a weak kick, you returned it. Ruben shook his head in disapproval before he shot it right back at you. Try that again, with the left this time. You didn’t know if it was anger at being challenged by some random kid or genuine hidden talent, but when you hit the ball with your instep, it flew powerfully and directly into his own.

She’s on my team!

Inseparable wasn’t a strong enough word to describe you two. After finding out that you lived only one house down, he would come to your school to walk with you back home. On many of those occasions, Aki was there too. Your mom would be waiting with snacks and a warning, don’t play too long out in the sun, patifes.

Somewhere and somehow along the years, you and Ruben had become so close that it seemed you two were dating. Ivan jokingly asked one day as you were sharing a vanilla ice cream cone, ew, are you boyfriend and girlfriend? Ruben grabbed your hand, laced your fingers with his, and simply said, yes.

And that was that.

As for when you began to realize you loved him, that was harder to pinpoint. Maybe it came once you began to notice how helpful he was to you and your mom.

Ruben was always willing to lend a hand with repairs around your house, even if it meant searching up how-to videos when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how he’d go out of his way to walk your mom home when she worked night shifts.

Aki often griped and rolled her eyes at how you two were making her feel like a third wheel. Those complaints were always quickly followed with rebuttals that she’d spent a grand total of fifteen days as a single girl since she was thirteen.

Just make sure my maid of honor dress isn’t fugly at your wedding.

It was all but a given that marriage was pending in the future for you two. Ruben never had eyes for any other girl and you…God, you were terribly devoted to him. Even your posters of Justin Bieber found themselves catching dust in the closet, replaced by a collage of photos you and Ruben had taken together over time.

Five years saw graduations, proms, college acceptances and many, many firsts experienced together. His arms were the only man’s you’d ever laughed in, cried in, slept in. His eyes were the only one’s you saw when you closed your own. His lips were the only thing you wanted to taste on the good and bad days, and everything in between.

So, what happened on September 15th 2017?

To this day, you still had no answers to the why behind that question. Nor could you allow yourself to wrack your brain for them any longer should you want to hold onto your sanity.

As for what. Simply put, it was the worst day of your entire life to date.

On the eve of his debut for Benfica’s first team, an event he’d dreamt of and worked so hard for, one that become just as significant to you by extension, Ruben broke up with you. Over the phone, no less - which added humiliation onto a violent erupting volcano of destructive emotions.

Cold turkey, brutal, cruel. It’s over, don’t contact me, I don’t love you anymore.

There were no warning signs, no moments in retrospect left unturned during your spiral, that could’ve possibly made what you read true. You initially thought it was some sick joke. Maybe one of his teammates had taken his phone. Or perhaps there was some girl that wanted him and was jealous that he was yours, so she decided to play dirty.

It was none of that or the million other scenarios you came up with on you walk over to his home. You came to learn that it was, in fact, not a joke. Ruben meant it when he said he was done with you.

He made that painfully clear as he looked at you standing under the faint glow of the lantern on his front porch through the window. Those eyes you once dreamt of fondly seemingly someone else’s as he drew the curtain and shut off the light.

You don’t recall much of time that passed in the months following that night. Every now and then you’d get flashes - Aki crawling in and out of the bed you temporarily became one with, your mom scooping you up to help you bathe and wash your hair.

It was better that way, you think. A blessing in disguise to not be able to clearly recall the most devastating period of your existence.

When your memory resumed, it always picked up at the same place. You siting with Aki on the steps of an abandoned subway station in total silence.

In your mind, you were there with him years ago when the line was still functioning. The rush of the train brought wind along that rose your hair like lightning was about to strike. Ruben grinned toothily as he smoothed it back, tilting your face upwards.

He said I’d always be home when I was with him. Where am I supposed to go now?

The silence returned even louder following the question that neither of you had the answer to.

Instead, you sat there in it with your best friend and shed the last tears you ever would over Ruben Dias.

o presente

Seven years was a long time.

It came with two college degrees, laser focus and an ability to compartmentalize so strongly that it would terrify artificial intelligence.

Whatever threatened to upend you at the sight of his name was snatched up and contained to be dealt with sometime in the future. You didn’t put literal blood, sweat and tears into your career to let one old wound derail it at such a pivotal moment.

With the same vigor you scrapped up to move on with your life, you poured every ounce of energy you had into absolutely nailing your pitch. Five all nighters, thirty six edits and ten complete run throughs later resulted in Bana being chosen as the firm to brand the newest AirMax.

“I always knew you were a genius, but this project was just,” Aki kissed the air as she took the next left to drive back to your shared building.

“Team effort, Aks.” You mumbled.

The thing about throwing yourself entirely into one project was that when the hard work was done, all the was left was the shit you were avoiding. You could feel it there, gnawing at the back of your head like a mice on a fresh piece of cheese.

“What if we watched an old coming of age movie like we used to on nights like this? Pop out some wine, get in our pj’s…real wild stuff.” She nudged your elbow with hers.

You casted a fond glance at her. Aki would never come outright and say it, but it was her way of checking in with you. The client mailing list was no secret to her since she needed it for the budgeting, so there was no way she missed him being on there.

The mice grew hungrier. Throughout all of your breakdowns and pain, she held all of hers in unselfishly and arguably stupidly. You weren’t the only one who lost someone important to you on that night.

“We do that after product launches. The deal has only just been sealed.” A smile was managed to form on your end.

“Ah…best not jinx it then, huh?” Aki blew a raspberry.

In order to keep her worries at bay this time, something you silently promised to do ever since your senses had returned, you squeezed her arm and doubled down.

“Besides, I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in nearly three weeks. I think I’ll just go for a short run, take a shower and hibernate.”

She nodded, liking the sound of that plan. You would’ve felt proud of your disarming skills had you not known the real reason for her shoulders relaxing. She was looking forward to having the next two days off more than anyone else.

“Don’t forget to text me when you get back.” Aki stuck out her pinky.

“Always.” You locked yours in tight.

The repetitive beat of your feet meeting the ground had the ability to still your mind nearly as much as pouring yourself into your work did. Left, right, left, right, left. When you added in the accompanying swing of your arms, the constant reminder to keep your breath in control and music that made you feel like you could punch a hole through a wall - you were nothing short of a machine.

It was one of the healthier coping mechanism you’d clung to back home. Every day, you’d take to the streets of the new neighborhood you moved to and then to the track at you university.

You’d gotten so good at it that you were scouted to run for the school’s team. Going pro was never a part of your plan, though. You only accepted the offer because it came with a free ride.

A drop of water hit your face, but it was cold.

Your treads slowed a bit as your eyes turned skyward. The clouds illuminated against a murky purplish background with the warning of distant lightning approaching. You refocused and pumped your legs faster. Fucking Manchester.

In between your songs transitioning, you heard a faint rumble. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the sound distorted by the headphones muffling your ears playing tricks that twisted the noise to sound partially human.

Whether it was or not, you weren’t trying to stick around to find out. It was late at night and the weather was going to get hellish soon.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a shadow ripping behind the streetlights - closing in on yours with each meter. Lactic acid built painfully in your muscles as you pushed even harder, breath control thrown to the wind.

It was gaining on you while rain began to fully fall.

Within a matter of seconds, which is all you had, you came to a decision. You were too exhausted from sleep deprivation and being nearly an hour into your run to beat whoever was chasing after you. The only option you had now was to steel your nerves and use the keys in your pocket as a last line of defense.

Your right hand blindly reached down and was met with lint. Terror hadn’t been felt until that very moment. A thousand and one scenarios raced through your mind with you reaching for the ones that would allow you to leave this situation at least narrowly unscathed.

The one you got a firm grip on using the element of surprise to hopefully distract them from whatever intentions they had for an instant. You took one last deep breath before spinning around swiftly and throwing out a fist.

A man in a baseball cap dodged the punch to his credit, albeit not very ideal for you. His balance, however, was in your favor. He slipped on the slick sidewalk and landed flat on his back with a pained groan.

You were the last thing you should’ve been given that you’d been granted an escape - frozen. On your behalf, you would’ve been halfway down the street and barreling towards your building had it not been for the wide eyes staring up at you.

Those eyes…Ruben’s.