#this is also not including the impel down stuff ;; like you could make the argument that he wanted out and luffy was his best shot

[scare-ard--sleigh]

okay so let's break it down. sir crocodile;;

protected luffy vis a vis daz bones

tried to kill whitebeard. decided like an hour later that it "wasn't worth it."

saved ace . from the marines .

protected luffy Again when he was passed out in jinbe's arms

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Ficino's whole engagement in the Petrarchan project of Philosophers/Writers Preserve Letters for Posterity and Edification is interesting. He obviously approached it with his Platonic spin, and was doing different things to others in terms of stylistic choices - the "poetic frenzied" approach to his writing which gives it that sinking-into-it lyrical quality was his effort to emulate Plato's own poetic style as well as aiding his endeavour to activate the entirety of people's intellect. So you're whole mind is moving towards understanding the Good/Truth, it's not just a purely Reason/Logos based activity. It's poetic, it's spiritual, it's logical, it's vibes~

Aside: Most of Ficino's letters, like most letters of the time, were meant to be read out loud. Part of the Platonic journey of self-knowledge included participating in the little games of word play and meaning-making that Ficino did. (Reading in general was an oral exorcise in his lifetime. Ficino alone in his study with his books would still have read them out loud, if perhaps quietly or in a murmur. The idea of silent reading is relatively new.) /end aside

His not including people's replies was part and parcel of the genre, tbf - that was sort of the expected norm (of course Ficino liked to transgress in his own way, so if anyone was going to be like "here is twelve volumes of me and Giovanni but trust me, it's educational" it would be him). Those replies that we have the most of are from Lorenzo de' Medici, which is pure Ficino playing the patronage game. The other few responses include one or two from Angelo, Pico, and Cosimo (I feel like I'm forgetting someone but regardless, it would only be one or two letters from them).

All that said. I agree that it remains interesting that we only get one Giovanni response out of twelve volumes of letters (eleven in our time, twelve in Ficino's). Ficino wrote the most to Giovanni out of everyone - one would think that aside from his patron, he'd include at least a few more from his most especial friend.

I had always put it down to Ficino respecting consent and privacy of those replying to him. Ficino can decide what to put in of his own words, but people writing back to him might not want their stuff memorialized for all to see and critique.

I had not considered that the issue might lie in Giovanni just...not being careful. That Giovanni was more willy-nilly with his responses because he knew they were for Ficino's eyes alone and so he could be more bold in any heretical ideas or pagan leanings or queerness in general. But that makes sense!

When we read Giovanni's letter to Marsilio, it's striking in how different their styles are - which is fun in and of itself - but also I can see the argument to be made for perhaps Giovanni being less cautious than Ficino in his wording therefore at a greater risk from the Church going "woah there mate, let's take a look at that, maybe you should come to Rome for a holiday".

Giovanni Cavalcanti to Marsilio Ficino, the Platonic Philosopher. In my opinion you sometimes esteem certain things very highly, and, because you so esteem them, on that account you fear them. Although such things should be valued a very, very little, nevertheless, I think that by so great a man as you they should be valued even less. So, my Marsilio, you will not complain to me of Saturn's malice any more. By Hercules, the stars can do us no harm; they cannot, I say, because they do not wish to. Moreover, for heavenly beings, to wish is to be able. Again, under what law might they harm us, the sons of the highest Good? For they are led by those who draw their origin solely from that same highest Good. And those most fortunate ones impel the stars in their circuits entirely in accord with the principle of the Good itself. [...]

First para' of Giovanni's reply to Marsilio complaining, Again, about Saturn causing his latest depressive episode.

(This letter was likely written circa 1475/76ish. Ficino would have been around 42 or 43, Giovanni 31 or 32 for an idea of their ages when Giovanni is bopping around going BY HERCULES at people. They've known each other for roughly 10(ish) years at this point - give or take.)

There is a thrust to Giovanni's writing that is more meaty, in a way, than Marsilio's. Which makes sense, Giovanni was born, bred, educated, and trained to be a merchant and a politician. Being more forthright in his writing therefore tracks. We also know he was raised in the knightly class, jousts, has more of a martial air about him than Marsilio ever did.

But what I really like about this intro paragraph is both the clear openness between them and Giovanni's use of "by Hercules".

"In my opinion you sometimes esteem certain things very highly, and, because you so esteem them, on that account you fear them." This is a banger of an opening line. It says so much in such an economical fashion. Like, he could have just ended it there. Clearly there is such trust and love between them that he feels he can go right into a bit of a critique of Marsilio - a loving one! you can hear Giovanni's love - but it is a request for Marsilio to do a bit of a perception check. An act, really, of trying to ground Marsilio.

Then there's the "by Hercules!". Oh my god you nerd. You slightly rough and tumble nerd. We never really hear Marsilio a) mention the gods in that fashion ever and b) Marsilio doesn't really do "blue language" or anything even approximating it. With the literal exception of his being nasty about Luigi Pulci to the Medici brothers, but even that was just creative insults that make a pun of Pulci's surname.

But here's his beloved hero being sweetly exasperated with him! By Hercules Marsilio get it together! Saturn is fine! It isn't going to hurt you!

I just love the glimpse into Giovanni that we get - a man who is happy to push back against Marsilio, to try and hold him to reason, who gets annoyed, who is very forthright in his opinions and not afraid to state them, who is also loving and caring and wants Marsilio to be happy. He also clearly knows Marsilio so well, with the jesting request at the end that Marsilio sing a hymn to Saturn to apologize for blaming the planet for his depression when it is Saturn who has given him his intelligence, memory, reason etc.

There is also a bit of sly humour in there. Giovanni makes a reference to Marsilio's "robust and healthy body" which we know Marsilio did not have. Being the guy who seemed regularly ill and was known as That Guy Who Has Whatever Is Going Around. (Yet he caught plague in 1479(ish) and survived?? Miracles, man.) Giovanni, of course, means Marsilio's intelligence/his mind in this but it is a bit of cheeky humour. And a jest I think you would only make if you are intimate with Marsilio (granted, maybe others did as well. We can't say for certain. Marsilio certainly made jokes about his small size (short and thin, he says about himself in a disparaging way in a few letters) and poor health, so maybe it was fine for others to touch on it? idk).

Anyway, it's such a delightful glimpse. And I can see through it the argument that Giovanni might have been more blunt and less careful in his letters. So when they're discussing things like the use of talismans or the idea of fate/astrology for the purpose of divination or calling down the power of the planets etc. Giovanni might have just been super blunt.

Also! we know Marsilio wrote plenty of correspondence in Tuscan. He just didn't include much of it in his intellectual volumes. (Opera omnia has some tuscan letters - one to his siblings exhorting them to be better to their parents which lol and another to his parents consoling them on the death of his brother Anselmo who died in 1462 I want to say.)

ok ok ok I'm done.

all I wanted to say really was yes!! give me all the thoughts on Giovanni and Marsilio!!! Giovanni who is so absent from not just the letters but also the broader historical record. By Hercules, the man is a ghost haunting us all with his silence.

One thing that I’ve been trying to articulate in my own brain about Marsilio Ficino’s letters is a question of audience. Yes, he never straight-up says he’s gay and that Giovanni and he are engaged in more than Platonic philosophy. He also never straight up admits to doing magic, so far as I’ve seen, but was a fairly well-known practitioner.

And that’s because this isn’t a collection of letters someone else put together and published posthumously the way many letter collections are. He published them himself. He published twelve volumes of his own personal correspondence. So he and he alone chose the letters, and he chose them knowing who might read them.

And despite that there are risky letters. There are letters that reference magic, astrology, his desire for other men, all the sort of stuff that the Inquisition could come sniffing around for. He walked a very narrow tightrope in his publications, and his letters were no different.

And I think that may be most exemplified by what he omitted. Yes, he omitted a lot of day-to-day correspondence (all the letters were ostensibly supposed to be dialogues and thoughts on philosophy). But he also omits a great number of the letters from his correspondents. I think Giovanni is the prime example of this. Marsilio publishes so many letters from him to Giovanni. The only reason they decrease in later volumes, from what I understand, is that they started writing couples’ letters together instead. Because they were living together a good chunk of the time.

But how many letters from Giovanni to Marsilio do we have? ONE.

Why is that? Is Giovanni the world’s worst correspondent, or was Marsilio much more cautious about publishing the replies to his letter than he was publishing his own works? If he got in trouble for publishing his own letters, that was one thing, but if he got a friend in trouble? If he got the man he loved in trouble?

So Giovanni is noticeable in his absence. In the letters that prompted Marsilio to reply but that we never get to read, and whatever responses he sent back to what we can read. We can’t know what he said, but I am inclined to believe that, if Marsilio is omitting all but one of them, perhaps Giovanni wasn’t quite as cautious in his use of allegory and careful language. Perhaps, for him, there was only one person who was ever the intended audience of his letters, and Marsilio respected that.

I feel like this caution, this crushing knowledge that Marsilio’s worst enemies could also read his letters, and that he chose those letters accordingly (or edited them accordingly), should always be taken into account when reading his correspondence.

So, yes. Marsilio was a philosopher and a priest and a doctor. He was also a gay wizard.

[officialtrashbusiness]

Hidden Gem - Katsuki Bakugou

info : fluff, cursing, gn! reader, ( kinda? )self indulgent , mostly bakugou’s pov

word count: 1889

synopsis: You’re the quiet and forgettable student in class 1-A that is until you tell Katsuki Bakugou to ‘shut the fuck up’.

Amongst the eccentric students of class 1-A, you were a part of the quiet and reserved minority-- including but not limited to: Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda. Compared to your quieter (and shyer) classmates, you were physically plain. You could say the same about your quirk as well. It was not eye catching compared to the heroic and whimsical wonders that were your classmates. If the people outside of class 1-A were to have a sudden fascination with you, they would conclude that you were part of general education-- the much blander courses of UA. These variables formulated a simple conclusion: You were forgettable, and you were fine with that.

So it wasn’t much of a discovery when the infamous firecracker of a blonde had zero fucking clue as to who you were. So much so that when you had uncharacteristically told him to ‘Shut the fuck up’, after some built up tension of one bad examen score and his constant yowling that you had to deal with as you sat in behind him, he was stunned alongside the class of 1-A. His bubbling brain tried to place the crude nickname that he so humbly gave you just like he did with every bumbling idiot in the classroom.

But his brain turned out blank.

His scrutinizing, carmine eyes traced your complexion as he tried to spit up some basic yet negative nicknames for you that are usually attributed to your physical features. He couldn’t find a defining detail that he could dub you with. It fucking irked him.

What the fuck? He thought. Who..

“Who the fuck were you, hah?” Bakugou snarled. His back was slightly hunched as he leaned forward towards you. His fingers slightly curled at his side as if he was threatening to trigger his quirk in the classroom. His pose and threatening scowl were used as tools to intimidate you. The quirk of his lip exposed the canine of his teeth while his hair seemed to bristle with vexing rage.

Kinda like a cat, you inwardly chuckle as you try to ease the trepidation riddling your brain. The unusual amount of eyes on you were unorthodox and felt like a sunburn. The murmurs and giggles amongst the students of class 1-A had turned your brain into mush. You did not mean to say that out loud.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You shot back without thinking.

A howl of laughter makes you jolt as well as the sudden realization that hits you once you have processed what you had said. Bakugou’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before transitioning into a jaw clenching growl. You could see his whole being vibrate with rage.

The class president marches up from the other side of the room. His instincts pull him from his seat as he predicts that Bakugou’s going to have hissy fit with one of the (supposedly) quietest students in class. His sense of responsibility did not want a scorch mark on the walls.. Or on your face.

“Enough, you two!” Iida scolds as he towers over the both of your sitting figures. “We do not tolerate inappropriate language!” His hand slices through the air, ashamed as he has to scold the two students for fowl language. He turns over to the spiky haired blonde, “I expected this kind of behavior from you, Bakugou but (L/--”

“Shut the fuck up, glasses!” Bakugou spat out as his glare was now pointed at the dutiful class president. Iida’s eyes widen behind his glasses with offense. His mouth parts, ready to fire another scolding towards the mouthy blonde. “Quit your fucking nagging! I’m tired of your uptight ass!”

“(L/N),” Sero calls out. His laugh cuts through the argument and grabs your attention. “I never knew you had it in you to tell Bakugou off!” He tilts his head back with laughter.

Kaminari pats a hand on Sero’s shoulder. His body doubled over with snorts and howling. “Yeah!” He snorts before wiping a fake tear away causing Sero to giggle. “We all thought you were shy and stuff! You’re always so quiet!” He points an accusing finger towards Bakugou. “You even got him to shut up for a second! You’re a miracle worker!”

You chuckle before giving the two jokesters a smug smile and shrug, feeling your heart lighten at the sudden praise.

“Shut the fuck up! This nobody didn’t do jack shit, you fucking dumbasses!”He fumed before hearing the chimes of your giggles enter his ear. His ego deflates as his body bristles. He whips his head towards your direction. “What’s so fucking funny, extra?!” He screamed.

“I just didn’t expect you to listen to me.” You smirked.

An unexpected acquaintanceship between you and the two knuckleheads from Bakugou’s group began to slowly form after that-- much to Bakugou’s chagrin and your surprise. They’re stuck to you like a pair of parasites feeding off of you for nutrients, Bakugou mentally grumbled. He instantly knew the relationship between the three was reminiscent of him and the other parasites in his group. You had grown to warm up to the two boys after they relentlessly poked and prodded you, just like Bakugou did-- although, he would be caught dead admitting any positive comments relating to his group.

By the time you had opened up, the rest of the group had followed suit and made friends with you. It was only natural seeing that you have been recruited by one of the two dumbasses of the group. Having two friends from the group, you naturally melded in.

The quiet demeanor you held in front of class seemed to unravel once you had made your home in the sociable group. You had separated yourself from the distant and shy minority and began to feel more secure conversing amongst your fellow classmates. Although you weren’t friends with everyone in the classroom, you had the ability to smile and approach them with ease.

Amongst all of this, Bakugou was the outlier of the classroom. In contrast to everyone, he talked to you even less than before. His pride and embarrassment impelled him to ignore you, in which you did back-- you didn’t have the gall to bother him. Although the communication between the two of you was dead, he would watch you from afar.

Bakugou identified people by physical appearance but never by name. His mind was too busy bustling about becoming the number one hero for him to care about names. He always remembered faces and the different (most of the time negative) facets of people’s appearance, but he didn’t remember yours. He had never seen your face and he couldn’t deem a nickname based off of the quirks of your appearance, and it pissed him right the fuck off.

So, he watched the way you move, the tone of your voice and the way you talked. He watched your hands move as you talk confidently with his little group of stalkers from the corner of his eyes. His ears picked up the loud chime of your laughter and noted your thoughts and opinions as you broadcasted them to the group.

He had noticed that you were honest and straightforward when the time really appreciated it to be. You were a bit opinionated, but held an air of understanding. He wants to laugh at the fact that you’re a little mean hearted despite seeming to always lend a hand when there was any sign of needing one.

You were different from what he perceived. You weren’t some plain wuss of an extra, and he didn’t know what to think of it.

You were a diamond in the ruff, an intruding thought whispers.

Bakugou stomped away after an excruciating match with Todoroki. His usual hunched back was heavier and the trample of his feet was louder than usual. His heavy set growl seemed more menacing as he grumbled out curses. His red eyes glowered at the floor.

He found himself under the shade where the bleachers were. He snatched his plastic bottle from where it resided underestimating the weight as he realized it was empty. He rips out a growl of annoyance before tossing the bottle into the large blue recycling bin near him.

“You want one of mine?” An all too familiar voice called out.

He whipped his upward to see you sitting two benches up. The upper half of your body was slightly hunched as one of your elbows rested on your knee. Your face leans against the heel of your palm that is being supported by your knee. The arm closest to him is extended towards him as it tries to offer him a cool bottle of pocari sweat.

For the second time, he pauses. His eyes blink as he observes your sitting form, trying to slew some sort of nasty nickname at you, but it comes out blank. Your eyes are a bit sleepy from the sun’s beating and the harsh one-on-one between you and one of your classmates. Your expression is relaxed and seems a bit spacey (or maybe a tad bit soft) as you look down at him. Your cheeks look pillowy as the hand against it pushes out a subtle pout from your lips. You let out a soft ‘here’ before tossing the bottle at him, which he snatches from the air effortlessly.

This was his second time directly talking to you, he thinks to himself as he stares down at the bottle. You had only made comments about him, but never talked to him. He starts to wonder if you also observe him from the corner of your eye or listen to his snappy remarks.

“It hasn’t been tinkered with, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He can tell by the tone of your voice that you were joking, so he looks up to see if there’s a sleepy smile on your face. There was one. “I bought an extra one because I noticed that your bottles are always almost empty as soon as the hero's class is over.” You stated honestly.

Bakugou realizes he’s been too quiet, so he tuts and looks away. Your hotheaded classmate reluctantly twists the white cap as the air around his face begins to warm up.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need you to be my fucking mom.” He hisses before taking a swig as he tries to avoid the pressuring gaze of your eyes before turning to glare at you as he tightens the lid.

“No need to be embarrassed, Bakugou.” A smug smirk appears on your lips as you chuckle at him. Your sleepy eyes look unintentionally sultry as it accompanies your smirk. It doesn’t help that your relaxed pose enhances the way you. His stomach tightens. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

The flushed blonde reddens even more, realizing that his reaction had been caught red handed. “L-Like hell, I’m fucking embarrased!” He exclaims.

You mirror the wide eyed expression on his face at the realization of his stutter. Your smiles widened as you let out a laugh. It dawns on him as he watches you laugh as to why he couldn’t find a kink in your appearance. The blissed out look on your face as well as the melody of your laughter makes his heart stutter.

You’re fucking beautiful and he hates it.

Please Reblog if you enjoyed it! I might make a part two, but only if y’all tell me to!