#Cossack House

[ricounterwegs]

Down Under – Western Australia Roadtrip - II

Irgendwann mussten wir auch diese wunderschöne Gegend verlassen und fuhren weiter durch die gefühlt unendlichen Weiten Australiens nordwärts ins Bergbaugebiet der Pilbara bei Tom Price. Dort gibt es mehrere kleine Siedlungen, die ihre Existenz hauptsächlich dem Bergbau verdanken. Es ist beeindruckend die Infrastruktur der Bergbauindustrie zu sehen. Bis zu 2 km lange Züge transportieren Rohstoffe - besonders Eisenerz - aus der Pilbara Region an die nördliche Küste, wo diese auf Schiffe umgeladen werden und dann meist Kurs in Richtung China nehmen.

Östlich von Tom Price ist der Karijini Nationalpark gelegen. Für diesen waren wir leider nicht zur besten Reisezeit vor Ort. Da es tagsüber doch sehr heiß wurde – bis zu 44 Grad – waren hier einige Stellen des Parkes geschlossen. Zum Glück konnten wir trotzdem zum Fern Pool laufen. Mitten in der wüstenartigen roten Gesteinsregion gibt es hier einen natürlichen Frischwasserpool und dementsprechend auch eine reiche Flora und Fauna. Nach einer herrlichen Erfrischung im paradiesischen Pool unternahmen wir noch eine kleine Wanderung durch die Schlucht und fuhren noch ein paar Aussichtspunkte im Park an, bevor es zurück nach Tom Price ging.

Ich kann euch sagen, unser tolles Auto musste dann ordentlich leiden: Von Tom Price aus fuhren wir nämlich entlang einer sogenannten „Rail Road“ welche in Privatbesitz des großen australischen Bergbauunternehmens Rio Tinto ist. Um diese rote Staubpiste zu befahren, mussten wir vor Benutzung der Straße eine Onlineschulung durchführen. Ich fühlte mich hierbei sehr an meinen Arbeitsalltag bei dem Besuch von großen Firmen erinnert. Nachdem einige Erklärvideos geschaut waren und ich die Fragen richtig beantwortet hatte, erhielten wir die Erlaubnis und haben unser Auto dann über die Staubpiste entlang vieler unendlich langer Güterzüge geschickt. Irgendwann kamen wir an der Nordküste an.

Diese ist bei weitem nicht mehr so schön wie die Westküste, was auch sicher an den bereits beschriebenen großen Industrieanlagen für die Rohstoffverarbeitung bzw. den Rohstofftransport liegt. Aber auch unabhängig davon bietet die Küste und deren Strände in diesem Gebiet deutlich weniger Sehenswertes. Wir erkundeten kurz die Industriestädte Dampier, die Geisterstadt Cossack, Wickham und Port Hedland. Die bis dahin zurückgelegten Distanzen in Westaustralien sind wirklich krass. Eigentlich hatten wir ursprünglich im Hinterkopf bis Broome zu fahren. Als wir aber näher recherchiert haben, dass es zum einen nicht die ideale Reisezeit ist und zum anderen viele Dinge in der Umgebung nur mit richtigem 4x4 Auto zu erkunden sind, haben wir uns für eine neue nicht minderkurze Route entschieden. Wir wollten an zwei Tagen einmal quer durchs Land in den Süden Westaustraliens fahren. Kurz nachdem wir in Port Hedland starteten, war diese Reiseroute allerdings schon gestorben. Eine Straßensperre der Polizei ließ uns nicht weiterfahren, da sich ein schwerer Unfall mit einem Roadtrain (extra lange LKW mit vielen Anhängern) auf der Strecke ereignet hat und diese dadurch wohl mindestens für 24 Stunden gesperrt sein sollte. Auf den ersten Blick gab es keine Alternativroute (außer wieder die gleiche Strecke zurück wie wir gekommen sind). Dann haben wir aber noch eine kleine Route über einen der heißesten Orte Australien gen Süden gefunden. Auch wenn es ein Umweg war, so war die Straße über Marble Bar auch ein Highlight. Große Buschfeuer begrüßten uns in dieser Region und so war auch der nächtliche Blick aus dem Auto mit glühend rotem Nachthimmel sehr spannend und die Luft rauchgeschwängert. Allerdings sind Buschfeuer in dieser Region nichts ungewöhnliches und die Dame der einzigen Bar im Ort hat uns auch gesagt, dass wir uns keine großen Sorgen machen müssen. Die „kälteste“ Temperatur im Ort hatten wir übrigens mit 31 Grad am frühen Morgen.

Unzählige Kilometer später, entlang diverser Schotterpisten und Bergbausiedlungen, kamen wir langsam in den südlichen Teil Westaustraliens. Doch bevor die Landschaft sich komplett änderte, besuchten wir noch eine der größten Städte Westaustraliens – Kalgoorlie. Hier hatte ich vor 13 Jahren schon einmal bei meiner Zugfahrt mit dem Indian-Pacific Zug kurz gehalten. Diesmal schauten wir uns ein örtliches Museum zum Bergbau an und besichtigten den beeindruckenden Aussichtspunkt einer der größten Mienen Australiens dem „Super Pit“.

Je weiter es nun südwärts ging, desto stärker änderte sich die Landschaft und das Wetter. In Esperance an der Südküste angekommen, hatten wir nur noch 20 Grad, bewölkten Himmel und auch immer wieder Regen. Dementsprechend fanden wir dort auch eine andere Vegetation und ein völlig anderes Landschaftsbild vor. Zudem ist diese Region nun auch deutlich dichter besiedelt, wenngleich noch immer dünn besiedelt im Vergleich zu Europa.

Durch die von der Antarktis kommende Strömung lud das Meer an der Südküste für Menschen wie mich, die warme Temperaturen bevorzugen, nicht zum Baden ein. Die Landschaft und die Strände sind trotzdem atemberaubend schön. Wir besuchten den Cape Le Grand Nationalpark, fuhren weiter westlich nach Albany und unternahmen eine kleine Wanderung zum Granite Skywalk bei Porongurup. Leider alles wolkenverhangen und teilweise auch im Regen. Entlang unserer Route durch den Torndirrup Nationalpark, über den William-Bay-Nationalpark kämpfte sich im Südwesten langsam besseres Wetter durch. In dieser Region haben wir nun auch sehr viele Kangaroos sehen können. Die sehr dichten – fast schon dschungelartigen - Wälder sind in dieser Region eine Besonderheit. In diesen Wäldern gibt einige Aussichtsbäume, welche erklettert werden konnten und früher als Feuerausschauort genutzt wurden. Leider waren die Zugänge auf diese Bäume zu unserer Zeit wegen Sicherheitsüberprüfungen und Reparaturen gesperrt.

Die südwestliche Region – insbesondere das beschauliche Margaret River – ist neben Wäldern auch von unzähligen Weingütern geprägt. Der Tourismus spielt hier auch eine wichtige Rolle und zumindest in unserer Reisezeit war hier ordentlich was los.

Auf dem Weg zurück nach Perth hielten wir uns nur kürzer an einigen Orten auf und unternahmen hier am vorletzten Tag noch einen Tauchausflug vom Fremantle nach Rottnest Island. Dieser war allerdings ehrlich gesagt nichts Besonderes. Die Bootsfahrt zur Insel war sehr wellenreich, sodass nahezu alle Teilnehmer mit Übelkeit zu tun hatten. Ein Taucher hat sich auch ordentlich übergeben. Auch die Unterwasserwelt bot wenig. Zudem war auch das Essen an Board wirklich sehr einfach - um nicht schon zu sagen ungenießbar – und hat mit Sicherheit nicht zu einem besseren Wohlbefinden beigetragen.

Wir erkundeten noch etwas Frementle und Yanchep nördlich von Perth und unternahmen am letzten Tag noch einen kurzen Abstecher ins Zentrum von Perth. So ging leider eine wunderschöne Reise nach drei Wochen zu Ende. Australien besticht für mich durch die wunderschöne Natur und die teilweise menschenleeren Gegenden. Ich hoffe ich werde Australien in meinem weiteren Leben nochmals bereisen können. Wer auf der Suche nach einem sicheren und landschaftlich einzigartigen Kontinent ist, sollte nach Australien reisen. Ich denke auch, dass die Lebensqualität vor Ort sehr gut ist. Wenn man einen ordentlichen Beruf hat, sind wahrscheinlich auch die höheren Preise vor Ort gut zu verkraften.

[banefort]

Jacques-Fabien Gautier D'Agoty, Two dissected heads, 1764-65 | Ryan Condal, House of the Dragon, 2022- | Richard Kern and Lydia Lunch, The Right Side of My Brain, 1985 | Swans, Love Will Save You, 1991 | Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Hard on for Love, 1986 | Richard Kern, Stray Dogs, 1985 | Anna and Elena Balbusso, Canterbury Tales Illustrated, 2014 | Scott Walker, Cossacks Are, 2006 | Théodore Géricault, Study of Feet and Hands, 1818-19 | Andrew Marvell, Last Instructions to a Painter, 1667 | Francesco Cozza, Death of Cleopatra, 1675

[theophan-o]

360th Anniversary of Bohun's Death

17.02.1664 Ivan Bohun was executed in the Polish military camp

Ivan Bohun (Іван Богун) was a real person, an authentic Ukrainian Cossack hero from the mid-17th century and one of the most important Cossack commanders during the uprising of Bohdan Chmielnicki (Bohdan Khmelnytsky, Богдан Хмельницький), which started in 1648 ('Ukrainian Independence War').

As such, he has many diverse appearances in the Ukrainian culture and in the Polish culture (in literature, folklore, visual arts, music, opera, theater, cinema, etc.). Perhaps, the most famous worldwide (or just Tumblr-wide) of them all is the novel "With Fire and Sword" ("Ogniem i mieczem") by the Polish writer, Henryk Sienkiewicz, from 1883/1884. H. Sienkiewicz changed Bohun's name to Jurko, but described some of his authentic deeds, i.a. the role, he played during the battle of Beresteczko, 1651. The novel itself, as a part of the well-known "Trylogia" (which occupies an important place in the Polish culture), has many adaptations in art, theater, radio and cinema. The most famous of them is the Polish film from 1999, directed by Jerzy Hoffman. So...

Bohun's appearance in that film is not everything, in fact, it is only the tip of the iceberg of Bohun's myth. There is much more to explore and admire.

More information about artworks presented in this post you can find here:

It is a fan&didactic account, existing only for the Cossack Heroes glory and promoting Ukrainian heritage worldwide. Copyright belongs to the Artists/Museums.

[marykk1990]

My next post in support of Ukraine is:

A little different because Twitter was knocked out earlier this evening. I thought I had lost my entire Ukraine thread, which I started on day 1 of the full-scale invasion. I would have been absolutely LIVID if it was gone. So I posted on Blue Sky first, and when I went back to Twitter, everything was back, so my thread is still there. I'm soooo relieved. But anyway, today's post is:

While Twitter was down, I posted this evening's post on Blue Sky first, so doing it a bit backwards but in this evening's post, we're visiting the Ukrainian city of Trostianets (Тростянечь). Dating from the 17th century, the name comes from the Trostyanka River. It grew in population when Cossacks and peasants migrated there after suffering a defeat at the Battle of Berestechko in 1651. That was part of the Khmelnytsky Uprising. The city was captured by muscovy forces on March 1, 2022, and was occupied until March 26, 2022, when it was liberated by Ukrainian forces. Several buildings were destroyed by muscovy, including a house that Tchaikovsky stayed at in 1864 while composing the The Storm. They also mined a local hospital. There was also evidence of executions and tortures.

#StandWithUkraine

#СлаваУкраїні 🇺🇦🌻

Adding that Trostianets is in Sumy Oblast. Apologies that I left that out. I do like to include what Oblast we're visiting. #СлаваУкраїні 🇺🇦🌻

[look-sharp-notes]

Камер-Казак Императрицы Марии Федоровны Тимофей Ксенофонтович Ящик. После свержения монархии Т.К. Ящик остается рядом с императрицей, продолжая охранять ее в Крыму. В условиях Гражданской войны на юге России в 1918 г. Ящик вывез в родную станицу дочь императрицы, младшую сестру Николая II, великую княгиню Ольгу Александровну. В доме камер-казака дочь Александра III родила своего второго сына Гурия. После того, как Мария Федоровна 11 апреля 1919 г. на английском крейсере «Мальборо» покинула Крым, Ящик сопровождал ее и продолжал охранять в Англии, а затем в Дании, куда императрица со свитой прибыла 19 августа 1919 г. Вскоре, по распоряжению Марии Федоровны, он вернулся в Россию, для того, чтобы организовать вывоз в Данию семьи великой княгини Ольги Александровны. В тех условиях это была тяжелейшая задача, с которой Тимофей Ксенофонтович справился блестяще.

Свою императрицу, верный «бодигард» – так он именовался в выданном ему во время пребывания в Великобритании паспорте, охранял вплоть до ее смерти в 1928 г. Тимофей Ксенофонтович оставил в пылающей России, на родной Кубани семью – жену и девятерых детей. Вывезти их в Данию, как он не пытался, ему не удалось. В 1922 г. его жену Марфу расстреляли «за контрреволюцию». Свою службу казак посчитал оконченной, только после того, как бессменно отстоял у гроба Своей Императрицы 3 дня. Произошло это в 1928 году. В Россию казак так и не вернулся. Скончался Тимофей Ксенофонтович в Копенгагене в 1946 году.

Chamber-Cossack of Empress Maria Feodorovna Timofey Ksenofontovich Yashik.

After the overthrow of the monarchy, T.K. The box remains next to the Empress, continuing to protect her in Crimea. During the Civil War in the south of Russia in 1918, Yashik took the daughter of the empress, the younger sister of Nicholas II, Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna, to his native village. In the house of the Cossack chamberlain, the daughter of Alexander III gave birth to her second son, Gury. After Maria Feodorovna left Crimea on the English cruiser Marlborough on April 11, 1919, the Yashik accompanied her and continued to guard her in England, and then in Denmark, where the Empress and her retinue arrived on August 19, 1919. Soon, by order of Maria Feodorovna , he returned to Russia in order to organize the export of the family of Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna to Denmark. In those conditions, it was a difficult task, which Timofey Ksenofontovich coped with brilliantly.

His faithful “bodyguard,” as he was called in the passport issued to him during his stay in Great Britain, guarded his empress until her death in 1928. Timofey Ksenofontovich left his family in his native Kuban, his wife and nine children, in burning Russia. No matter how hard he tried, he failed to take them to Denmark. In 1922, his wife Martha was shot “for counter-revolution.” The Cossack considered his service to be over only after he had stood at the tomb of His Empress for 3 days. This happened in 1928. The Cossack never returned to Russia. Timofey Ksenofontovich died in Copenhagen in 1946.

[sethshead]

"Simon Schama in the Financial Times, Oct. 13, 2023:

"Confronted with enormity: murdered infants, abducted grandmothers, slaughtered villagers, lusty chants of 'gas the Jews' at the Free Palestine demonstration in Sydney, mere words feel like weak carriers of so much horror and sorrow. Journalistic bloviation on the cause of this and the effect of that seems an indecency, at least until the bodies are gathered and returned to families. So context me no contexts, analyse me no analyses, suspend your partially informed diagnoses; leave off your strenuous efforts at even-handedness. Let us be, to grieve, rage, weep; say the mourners’ kaddish.

"Perhaps images, then, not words? Of terrified young people who in a trice went from dancing to frantic running in a futile attempt to escape the spray of bullets; of a kibbutz dog shot as it emerged from a house (that must have helped Free Palestine); a young woman with bloody marks staining her sweatpants as she is bundled away by captors; a knife lying on a sofa in the kibbutz Be’eri, where 10 per cent of the population were killed; or visual evidence of 'resistance' like the video of Mor Bayder’s murdered grandmother uploaded by her killers to Mor’s Facebook page.

"Sympathy, for the moment, abounds, for as the writer Dara Horn pointed out in the title of her unsparing book of essays, People Love Dead Jews; living ones, especially should we have the temerity to defend ourselves, not so much. There is, rightly, sympathy too for the Palestinians of Gaza who are also victims and prisoners of Hamas and do not deserve to be punished for the wickedness perpetrated by their fanatical tyrants, nor for the delusion that the deaths of Jewish families will make Israel disappear.

"We do not disappear. But we do suffer. The great Columbia University historian Salo Wittmayer Baron spent his career inveighing against the fatalism of what he called 'the lachrymose conception' of Jewish history. I myself have made an effort to go with the positive: to celebrate the poetry, music, religious and secular literature of the diaspora; to think about Jewish history with the human smoke of Auschwitz blown away by time and education.

"But this now seems an idle hope. From reports all over the world in the days following the massacres last weekend, it is obvious that the spectacle of dead Jews can still excite, rather than restrain, antisemitism.

"Apparently it still needs saying that Zionism is not the cause, but the consequence, of perennial, dehumanising, antisemitism. The massacre of Jews not only long predates Zionism but is a constant fact of diaspora existence. Jews were attacked and exterminated in both the Muslim and Christian medieval worlds: six thousand butchered in Fez in 1033; thousands more in Almoravid Granada in 1066; the entire community of York in 1190. A friend of mine, currently in Spain, tells me almost all of the rarefied intellectuals she has encountered have been adamant that the victims were to blame, which, given the murder of thousands of Jews in 1391, is a bit rich.

"Nor was this persecution really about religion. Survivors who converted were, for all their professions of Christian faith, still tortured and burnt alive by an Inquisition suspicious that their blood was too impure for salvation. So Jews have been murdered for being too separate and murdered for being not separate enough. They were killed in vast numbers by Cossacks in 1648; by Russian pogroms in the 19th and 20th centuries. In 1899 an anti-Dreyfusard journal asked its readers what they would like to do with Jews. The responses were enthusiastic and ingenious: use them as targets for new artillery, turn them into dog food and, needless to say, gas them.

"In the face of lethal peril, help has been conditional. Children were rescued by the Kindertransport on condition of being separated from their parents, many of whom they would never see again. A conference on 'refugees' was held in Bermuda in 1943, when the Final Solution was known, basically on condition the word 'Jew' was never mentioned. It was this lose/lose situation that moved Theodor Herzl, the father of modern Zionism, prophetic about a coming annihilation, to insist that in the end Jews must count only on themselves for their protection.

"That core Zionist article of faith collapsed last Saturday, not least because of the Netanyahu government’s obstinate refusal to listen to Israel’s security chiefs, who warned him that the safety of the country was being imperilled by policies that were dangerously divisive. Whatever the immediate unity of the country, his days as prime minister are numbered and his legacy will forever be this catastrophe. But that inevitable departure will not staunch the tears, bring back the dead or heal the trauma. And should there be a ground invasion, innocent Palestinian and Jewish lives will pay a terrible price, not that Hamas cares about either.

"But Israel will survive, revive. If only because, even in this dreadful extremity, one text from Deuteronomy, 30. 19 lies at the indefatigably beating heart of Jewish history:

"I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, a blessing and a curse: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live."

h/t Shoshana Hantman

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy and Lucy enter the madhouse that is the Russian's residence.

Word Count: 3,732

Notes: Warnings for depictions of sexual assault.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 20: Diamonds

Lucy fought the urge not to pick at her nail polish or fiddle with her rings as the car pulled up in front of the Russian’s house. Sliding out of her spot in the backseat after Arthur, she let her gaze drift over the mansion and the grounds, eyeing each guard standing at attention along the walkway up to the front doors while Tommy spoke to his brothers. Each of the Cossacks stared back at them, as they strode past, eyes grizzled and jaws set. 

Tatiana met them a little less than halfway up the path, an intricately woven shawl draped over her bright red dress. A diamond necklace encircled her throat, gleaming earrings swinging from her ears. She greeted Tommy with a lowered voice, smug smile pulling at the corners of her lips before she welcomed them inside. 

They followed her into a small office where Izabella was waiting for them, standing regally by the door with her gloved hands folded in front of her. Lucy kept close to Tommy’s side, not quite touching him but near enough that she could just start to feel the heat radiating from his body. Twice she caught herself fiddling with her rings without even realizing it while Tommy explained to John and Arthur how in Russia, men who were enemies of the royals would sometimes cover their bodies in tattoos. And in order to ensure that neither Arthur or John were assassins or infiltrators, they would like to check their skin.

The horrified look that crossed Arthur’s face made Lucy frown. All four of them knew exactly what they were walking into when they agreed to come to this madhouse. Had he thought Tommy was just joking when he briefed them earlier?

“Now, my and Lucy’s bodies already been checked. Although, at the time, I wasn’t sure that was the reason,” Tommy went on. Lucy snorted. “And now it’s your turn.”

Arthur looked like he was about to be sick, but John was grinning.

Lucy had always strongly suspected that John and Esme had an arrangement not quite unlike the one she had with Tommy. At the very least, she knew John had no qualms with fucking women who weren’t his wife. 

Arthur was another story. There was no way in hell, with her prayers and crosses and piousness, that Linda would ever be alright with something like this. Not even if it didn’t mean anything. And, little as Lucy understood it, Arthur was entirely devoted to Linda. 

But it needed to be done. There was no way around it. And if he couldn’t handle being gawked at a little, how the hell was he going to handle what was to come after? 

Lucy still felt bad for him, though. 

“Come on boys. Take your clothes off,” Tommy snapped his fingers, turning away and taking Lucy’s hand in his, leading her towards the back of the room, past Izabella as she approached the two brothers. Behind them, Lucy could hear Arthur protesting. 

“Get out of my way, both of you,” he tried to rush to the door, still blocked by Tatiana, and Tommy caught him by the front of the shirt.

“Arthur, come here,” he leaned in close, speaking softly in Romani.

“Let the ladies have their fun, eh?” while his voice was soothing, Lucy could hear the barely disguised order underneath. Arthur’s jaw clenched, but they all already knew that he was going to do what he was told. 

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and for a moment Lucy again felt a churning in her stomach at what they were asking him to do. As if his discomfort was contagious.  

Should have just left him at home with his bloody wife, she thought bitterly to herself.  

Tommy’s hand squeezed around hers, giving her a little tug and pulling her with him towards the window. He perched against the windowsill, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her to sit in his lap. Lucy coiled an arm around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck, seeking out both comfort from his warmth and to give Arthur and John at least some semblance of privacy. Their belts clinked and clothes rustled while they disrobed. John was laughing, goading Arthur while he tossed his shirt to the floor. Tommy smirked in mild amusement while lifting a cigarette to his lips. His mirth made her feel a little better. After all, it was harmless. Tatiana and Izabella were just going to look them over and send them on their way.

No real harm done. 

Tommy’s hand rubbed up and down along her thigh, and she relaxed against him, both arms going around his shoulders, her nose squishing deeper into his neck when she angled her face to give him a little kiss there. 

There was the sound of ripping fabric, and Lucy yelped when something small and round bounced off of her cheek. Her head snapped up from its hiding place against Tommy to search out the culprit who had just thrown a button at her.

John had already stripped down to just his shorts. Arthur was shrugging off his shirt, which, when Lucy squinted at it, appeared to be the cause of her suddenly being pelted, as it had been ripped open rather than meticulously removed, all its buttons scattered across the floor.

Tommy’s finger curled under her chin, turning her face back to look at him. His smirking lips pecked the spot where the button had struck her, before guiding her face to rest back in the crook of his neck. Snuggling into him, she fixed her gaze pointedly on Tommy’s chest while John and Arthur rid themselves of the remainder of their clothes, Izabella and Tatiana stalking around them, examining their bare skin like a pair of hungry wolves.   

Tommy gave them a moment, just enough to analyze the lack of traitorous tattoos on John or Arthur’s skin, and then he gave Lucy’s thigh a little tap. She slid from his lap with ease, though she kept her arms still looped loosely around his neck as he stood, her head turned away from his brothers and towards the window.

“All right, I think we’ve seen enough, eh?”

But Izabella raised a hand, voice soft as she turned to her niece. “Tatiana?”

Tommy sat back down on the windowsill, guiding Lucy to settle into his lap once more. There was a rustling of skirts, and then John started laughing. Lucy felt Tommy tense beneath her, and out of curiosity she chanced a glance through her eyelashes at where the brothers were standing. 

Tatiana had knelt down in front of Arthur, hand reaching between his legs. Arthur’s eyes looked to be about ready to pop out of his skull, mouth agape.

“Sometimes assassins hide their allegiances behind their balls,” Tatiana said, as casually as if she were discussing the weather. Lucy felt her stomach clench and churn. Tommy’s hand, where it was still resting atop her thigh, squeezed. John had stopped laughing. “But you passed the test, soldier,” Tatiana looked up at Arthur. “With flying colors,” she stood, but maintained her grip on Arthur’s cock. His eyes squeezed shut, and he looked as if he were in physical pain as Tatiana started to move her hand back and forth. Lucy had to look away, unable to take anymore of the expression on Arthur’s face. Aware that if she jumped up and tried to push Tatiana away from him, the duchess could have them all killed. 

Her fingers clenched into Tommy’s shoulder, gritting her teeth as she fought back memories of how it had felt to be touched without consent. Shoved to rain-slicked cobblestones while hands groped at her breasts and between her legs…

She slammed her eyes shut, face pressed back into Tommy’s neck, grabbing a handful of the fabric of his shirt. 

Make it stop. Please, Tommy, make it stop. 

As if he’d heard her thoughts–maybe he had; she’d never been able to fully rule out the possibility that he was secretly a mind reader–Tommy wedged the cigarette he was holding between his lips and rose to his feet, keeping a hand on her waist to steady her when she was displaced from his lap. Once her feet were steady on the ground he let her go, and brought his hands together in several firm, loud claps.

Then tension that had been steadily building in the room popped like a balloon with every crash of Tommy’s hands. And when he was finished, he plucked his cigarette from his lips, and flashed a charming, amused smile. 

“The real diamonds, eh?” he crooned, but underneath the layer of cheerfulness he had plastered onto his face, Lucy could see tension and anger at what Tatiana had just done roiling underneath. Maybe even a dash of protectiveness. He was only playing nice so as to avoid an altercation. Otherwise, she wondered if Tatiana would have been torn to shreds. 

The duchess in question stepped away from Arthur, the smug smile that danced across her features enough to make Lucy want to slap her. Izabella recovered quickly, inviting them to join in celebrating the successful examination as she whisked away into another room with Tatiana following close behind her. 

The second the Russians had exited from the room, John started to laugh again. Tommy gave Lucy a little squeeze at her hip before stepping around the desk towards his brothers. 

“Well done, boys. Eh? Well done, Arthur,” Tommy tried to smile the whole thing off. Lucy looked away, back towards the window while Arthur and John started to get dressed, running a hand through her hair and flexing her fingers in an attempt to get rid of the jitters that had suddenly begun twitching through her muscles.    

“Now you know what you have to do next,” Tommy was saying. “All right? One last job. Make contact and play nice.”

Lucy swallowed and, still pointedly averting her eyes from the brothers, made her way across the room. Tommy took her hand, leading her through the door Izabella and Tatiana had exited through. 

As soon as they were out of sight or earshot of John and Arthur, Tommy came to a stop, turning to look her over, both hands resting on her shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

Her breath rattled in her lungs when she exhaled. There was still a shakiness in her hands; a prickling, unconscious desire to nervously start fumbling with the simple golden rings encircling her fingers, and her stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. But looking into the deep blue of his eyes seemed to help a little. 

“I’m fine, I just…” she worried at her bottom lip. “That just hit closer to home than I expected it would.”

He rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms, as if trying to warm her, and she realized that she was shivering a little. “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he said, and while his voice was soft she could see the way his jaw ticked with anger, clenching in a way that accentuated the sharpness of his features. 

“Do you think Arthur’s okay…?” it felt like a stupid question to even ask. Of course he wasn’t. 

Tommy closed his eyes, confliction tearing across his face before he schooled it back into place. When his eyes opened again, they were stern, but not unkind. 

It was the same face he made when he decided he needed to fire someone, or cut wages. The look of a man who knew he needed to make a hard decision, even if it was going to hurt someone. 

“Arthur’s a big boy. He can take care of himself,” his thumb swiped along her cheekbone. “He’s not your responsibility, eh?”

Lucy nodded. “Yeah,” she whispered, forcing herself to let it go. “Yeah,” she said it again with more conviction. “They knew what they were signing up for when coming here,” it was half a question, and half a reminder to herself. They’d all heard the rumors about the orgies and other lascivious activities that went on in the Russian’s household late at night. 

“That’s right,” Tommy nodded, bringing his cigarette to his lips. Flattening her palms on his chest, she leaned her head forward, resting it between his pectorals for a moment. The hand not holding his cigarette rubbed her back. “Here,” he held the cigarette still clutched between his fingers to her lips, the smoke helping to settle what little of her nerves remained. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, lifting her face. Tommy just shook his head, pecking her forehead and taking her hand again.

“Come on, let's not keep them waiting.”

Tatiana was lingering at the end of the hall after their next turn, smug smile still in place while she adjusted the shall around her shoulders, two guards flanking her.

“Ready?” she asked, head inclining. Tommy nodded, and her smirk grew. “This way.”

They followed through a maze of winding halls, ornate paintings of old Russian aristocracy staring at them from their places mounted on the walls. Lucy could’ve sworn that their eyes followed them as they passed.

“We are almost there. This way,” Tatiana guided them through another door, taking an immediate left turn to begin the descent down a dark flight of stone stairs. It was cold, a musty, damp scent permeating into the air. Lucy wrinkled her nose against it, thankful to still have on her overcoat to protect against the chill. As they walked, Tatiana explained some of the history surrounding the treasury, coming to a stop at a locked barred metal door. The guard standing at the other side of the door unlocked it and pulled it open for them, the metal squealing as it moved.

Tatiana stepped in, marching authoritatively passed the guards, more like a general than a duchess. The dog standing at the feet of one of the Cossacks started to bark, the man gripping its leash firmly while they waited for the next door, this one solid metal, to be opened. Lucy had to suppress the feeling of entrapment that suddenly shuddered along her spine; that came not just from being underground, but at having so many locked doors and guards between them and the outside. 

They followed Tatiana into the treasury, where Romanov and Izabella were already waiting, with Alfie standing between them, his hands bound with rope, but otherwise unharmed. 

“Your jeweler,” Tatiana said, voice laced with a barely concealed strain of disdain. 

“I don’t think they trust me, Tommy,” Alfie sounded more exasperated and mildly amused than genuinely upset, nodding at the ropes encircling his hands. 

“Mr. Solomons is the only jeweler I trust in London,” Tommy said. Alfie continued to grumble while Romanov unenthusiastically drew a knife and sliced the ropes binding him, letting them fall to the ground with a thud. While Tatiana restated their agreement as to how Alfie was to select items from the treasury which would be stowed away until Tommy completed his side of the arrangement, Lucy allowed herself to wander more deeply into the treasury, taking in the dimly lit, cavernous-like room. An assortment of boxes were set upon the tables that lined the walls of the treasury. They were open, revealing glittering jewels sitting atop plush red velvet lined interiors. The way that they gleamed in the dim light only added to the feeling that they had wandered into a cave. A cave that hosted an assortment of rare, precious jewels.

She paid no mind to Alfie’s ramblings behind her, though she did sneak a glance to the Russian’s faces upon the revelation that he spoke their language. To her delight, they looked shocked; dismayed to have their primary advantage stolen away. 

If only they knew that advantage had never existed in the first place.

It didn’t take long for the darkness, and the damp scent of soft earth, to start to get to her, and almost without thinking she found herself drifting back to Tommy’s side. He had remained standing near the table, watching as Alfie flitted from table to table, magnifier pressed to his eye while he plucked up jewelry and gemstones from their cases on the tables, examining them and tossing the ones he deemed acceptable to the center of the table. There was a little haggling, between him and Izabella, and Romanov seemed incapable of not hovering at Alfie’s shoulder and arguing with every other statement he made, leaving Tommy to have to mediate between the two.

Not good. It wouldn’t take long for Alfie to lose his patience when it came to that bullshit. Especially not with the added bad history between his family and the Russian aristocracy. 

Lucy picked at her fingernails, tracing carefully underneath them with the tip of her nail, to remind herself that there was no dirt still lodged beneath them. She took a deep breath. Not much longer. And then they would be back up above ground again.  

“Luces!” Alfie’s sudden booming voice nearly made her jump. “C’mere, little demon, come, come, come,” he reached out a hand, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her towards a couple open cases of glittering red garnets, topazes of nearly every color imaginable, and a few red stones she didn’t recognize. “Tommy says you’re to pick a few things out.”

She blinked, casting a glance over her shoulder to find that Tommy had pulled his eyes away from the rather intense staring contest he’d been having with Tatiana and Izabella, watching her with an expression anyone else might have mistaken for being unreadable.

She recognized the hint of tenderness though, just beyond the armor of cold expressionlessness covering his eyes. 

Turning back to the table with a smile pulling at the edges of her lips, she considered the jewels. 

“Hm…these,” she pointed to a pair of garnet earrings, the small, deep red stones looking almost like droplets of blood as they swung side to side from their chains as Alfie lifted them carefully. “And that,” she gestured to an intricate gold ring, a big, oval shaped garnet winking at her from between two tiny pearls inlaid above and below it. She picked out a few other pieces, Alfie gathering them up and meticulously examining each one for flaws before tossing them to the center of the table with the other riches. Garnets were cheap– at least by comparison to what else lay in the treasury–so she was able to select a good several pieces without worry.  

“What’s that?” she asked Alfie, voice lowered to a whisper, a little embarrassed that she couldn’t identify the other red gems settled on the far end of the table. Alfie scooped up a necklace, a red stone the shape and size of a grape dangling from the chain. 

“Red beryl,” he said, holding it close to his magnifier.

“No, no, no,” Romanov immediately began to protest. “That is one of the rarest gemstones on earth–”

“Only found in the south western parts of America, if I’m to be correct,” Alfie said. Lucy bit her lip. The pendant was beautiful, but likely way outside of their price range.  

“It is a thousand times rarer than gold,” Romanov supplemented, looking about a second away from ripping the necklace out of Alfie’s hands. 

“Any yet,” Alfie shot him a grizzled look, “from what I hear about the current market, it only is valued slightly higher above your average emerald.”

Romanov sputtered. Alfie raised his eyebrows, holding out the necklace for Lucy to take. He held up the lantern so that she could get a better look at the solid red hue of the stone. It was cold against her fingers.

“You like it?” she glanced over her shoulder, where Tommy had crept up behind her, peering over her shoulder. She smiled, nodding.

“Yeah.”

He took it gingerly from her fingers. “We’re taking it,” he said, no room for argument in his voice as he set the necklace onto the table to join the other pieces of jewelry she’d selected. 

“You cannot–” Romanov tried to interject, but a raised hand from Izabella silenced him, though his face had turned so red it almost matched the stones Lucy had just been selecting from. 

“Yes, yes, very good,” Alfie spoke right over him. “Can make a good early anniversary present, eh, Tommy?” he gave Tommy a pat on the shoulder as he swept past him. Tommy’s fingers tangled with hers, tugging her back to where he’d been originally standing by the table. She gave his hand a tight squeeze until he looked at her. 

Thank you, she told him silently. He blinked.

I love you, his eyes said back. She smiled, and linked her arm with his, tucking into his side. 

Alfie, still wielding the lantern in his hand, sat down in the chair next to Izabella, leaning in close. 

“Do you have any eggs?” he asked. Lucy tightened her arm around Tommy’s. This was the gamble, and quite possibly a request that could get them at best thrown out, and at worst shot, if the Russians objected. 

Perhaps they played their hand too soon by insisting on the red beryl.  

For a moment, she thought Romanov would have a coronary, but Izabella simply made a calm gesture to Tatiana, and the duchess rose from her chair, going to a closed box tucked away in a particularly dark corner of the room. When she returned, she had a pale pink, intricately decorated Faberge egg clutched between her hands. She set it daintily in the middle of the table, sitting back down while Alfie examined the egg with near reverence.

Once satisfied, Alfie set the egg down, declaring their selection to be complete. Tommy and Romanov–who only hesitated but a moment before realizing that he had no backup in his protests–shook hands, sealing the arrangement. 

“And now, Mr. Shelby, you and Miss. Winters will join your brothers and Mr. Solomons will take his leave,” Izabella declared. Tommy nodded. Lucy shot a look over to Alfie, to find him sharing at the Faberge egg, wetting his lips. She frowned.

But then Tommy gave her a light tug on her arm, pulling her with him towards the entrance to the treasury, and her attention was ripped away from the odd look on Alfie’s face.

She did not think of it again.  

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Is there any OTMA anecdotes at christmas you know about?

Hello anon! Yes there are plenty!!! I’m so happy you asked this because Christmas is today and what better way to learn more about Romanov Christmases than to hear it from their own words! ❤️

“We had a Christmas party for all who live in the house with us. During the evening of the 24th, at 9 1/2 o'cl. we had a vsenoshnaya, rather late, but the priest could not get here calier, and at the table, with all the icons [we] set up a tree and lit it up. It stood there during the entire vsenoshnaya. It was very nice and cozy. We did not hang anything on the tree.” - Letter from Tatiana to Countess Zinaida Tolstaya, 16 December 1917

“Hello my dear Ritka! Well, the Holidays are upon us already. We have a Christmas tree in the corner of the hall and it dispenses a wonderful scent, but not at all the same as in Tsarskoe [Selo]. This is some special kind of tree called "bal-sam." It smells strongly of oranges and tangerines, and there is resin flowing down the trunk constantly. There are no ornaments, but only silver streams and wax candles, of course from the church, since there are no other.” Letter from Olga Nikolaevna to friend Margarita “Rita” Khitorovo, December 26th 1917

“We generally spent Christmas at Tsarskoe Selo. It is less observed than Easter in general, but in the palace it is a great festival. There were no fewer than eight Christmas trees in various parts of the palace. The Empress dressed them all herself, and personally chose the presents for each member of her household, and for each officer, to the number of about five hundred. A tree was arrayed for the Cossacks in the riding-school. The children and I had a tree for ourselves. It was fixed into a musical-box which played the German Christmas hymn, and turned round and round. It was indeed a glittering object. All the presents were laid out on white covered tables, and the tree stood for several days an object of intense interest and admiration to the children. They were very sad when it was dismantled just before we went to St. Petersburg, but they were consoled by being allowed to help, and to divide the toys between the members of their own household.” Six Years At The Russian Court by Margaretta Eagar

“The little girlies were delighted to se her [Empress Alexandra Feodorovna] so gorgeously attired; they circled round her in speechless admiration for some time, and suddenly the Grand Duchess Olga clapped her hands, and exclaimed fervently, "Oh! Mama, you are just like a lovely Christmas tree!" After divine service was finished there was a drawing-room, at which all the debutantes were presented.” Six Years At The Russian Court by Margaretta Eagar

I hope you all have an AMAZING Christmas and a Happy New Year!!! 🎄🎉🤍

[zablife]

Obey

Tatiana Petrovna x Scarlett Shelby (OC)

Summary: Tommy has not yet recovered from his head injury and Scarlett is sent to Hampton Court Palace in his place. Tatiana has some fun with her new guest.

Author's Note: This was requested by a lovely anon who wanted to read a Tatiana x Shelby sis fic. I hope you enjoy it! Scarlett Shelby is my OC-- Tommy's younger sister (John's twin)--from my series Little Harlot.

Warnings: 🔞, language, hint of smut

“I thought they were sending Thomas,” Tatiana said, alarm evident in her large brown eyes.

“They say he’s still too weak to travel. It’s the sister, Scarlett, tonight,” her uncle replied, tugging at his white gloves. 

Izabella raised Tatiana’s chin with a stern reminder. “It doesn’t matter, Tatiana. The objective is the same.” Studying her niece to be sure she would comply, she asked sharply, “Can you do it?”

Tatiana’s eyes flicked up toward her aunt, shedding any sense of doubt as she snapped indignantly, “Of course, I can.”

Tossing her away, Izabella straightened, clasping both hands to her waist as she nodded. “Good, she’ll arrive within the hour.”

————————————

“Miss Shelby, welcome,” Tatiana said with a neutral, almost bored expression, her eyes roaming Scarlett’s body in silent judgement. “Excuse the reception," she said gesturing toward her guards with a wave of her hand. "Whenever we open the treasury, the Cossacks are on guard,” she apologized with a lack of sincerity.

“They don’t bother me,” Scarlett said, unflinchingly. After all she'd seen in France and at Tommy's side, nothing phased her anymore.

Tatiana could tell the woman wasn't frightened in the least and she gave a small, satisfied smirk before turning lazily toward the house, hips swaying with each step she took toward the entry way. She didn't ask Scarlett to follow her, only indicated with a nod of her head as she adjusted her shawl.

Once inside Tatiana's smile seemed to grow as she took her time circling her prey. “Before we go through, I must know if you have any allegiance to underground organizations.”

“Like what?” Scarlett asked, furrowing her brow.

“Sworn enemies of the royal household,” she spat as though Scarlett were stupid.

“It’s customary in Russian royal households to check for such tattoos before engaging in business of any kind. My family must be sure you’re not an assassin or an infiltrator,” she explained as she paced before Scarlett, eyes boring a hole into her until Scarlett felt naked from her gaze alone.

“What? You’ve asked me here. Of course, I’m not!” Scarlett said defensively, jutting her chin out to show she wouldn’t be intimidated.

“Regardless, I must check your skin,” Tatiana persisted, crossing her arms over her chest to show she wouldn't budge on the issue.

“Check my skin? What does that mean?” Scarlett was confused by the phrase wondering if it meant what she thought. Perhaps Tatiana’s English wasn’t so good.

“I must check your body for markings as I said," she explained in an exasperated tone, rolling her eyes at the inconvenience of having to explain herself a second time. When Scarlett made no move, Tatiana became forceful, commanding, "Take your clothes off!"

“Fuck off,” Scarlett replied reflexively with a toss of her head.

Tatiana raised her eyebrows at the insult. She wasn't accustomed to people speaking to her that way. Her eyes narrowed and she lowered her voice an octave as she issued a threat contained in a single word, “Obey.” 

“I ain’t obeying no one. Never have,” Scarlett said, gathering her coat tightly around her shoulders.

“And yet you do for men. How much?” Tatiana asked, her voice returning to a flat, even register as though she were asking the price of fruit. 

“You think I’m some kind of whore?” Scarlett scoffed.

“Tommy said you have a certain reputation,” Tatiana countered, matter-of-factly, waiting to see how her opponent would accept the wounding sting of the barb.

Scarlett only gritted her teeth as she could see this was nothing more than a cruel game. Tommy never missed an opportunity to make her feel small and insignificant. It was true she had run wild since returning from France, but that was no one’s business but her own. No longer wishing to discuss it, she decided to give in. The roving eyes of a spoiled duchess preferable to this line of conversation.

Tossing her coat aside with force, she slowly began to slip a strap of her evening gown from her shoulder and then the other, never breaking eye contact with Tatiana. The golden sunlight of the afternoon poured in through the windows, illuminating Scarlett's ivory skin and she hesitated to shimmy the fabric past her waist as Tatiana began circling her again. However, by the time the dress had pooled at her feet and the cool breeze hit her shoulders, she forgot any sense of modesty and quickly untied her bra, tossing it to the floor with a flourish and pulling her shoulders back proudly.

Tatiana’s eyes brightened at the sight of her full breasts springing forth and a hint of mischief played in her eyes as she stepped closer, running a hand across Scarlett’s collarbone. “You have skin like your brothers’, you know? The freckles. I wonder, do you fuck like him too?” she whispered against Scarlett’s ear with an impish giggle.

A tingle ran down Scarlett’s spine at the remark though she tried to suppress it. “God, he was right. You're all mad,” she muttered in Romany.

Tatiana cocked her head as she listened to the quiet lilt of a language she didn’t understand. “What was that?” she asked softly, cradling Scarlett’s neck in her hand, digging her nails in slightly at the base of her skull, forcing Scarlett to tilt her head back toward the ceiling.

“I’m nothing like him,” Scarlett said defiantly, wetting her lips as she suddenly felt her throat go dry. Tatiana stood pressed to her side so the beads of her dress scratched roughly against her bare skin. If she’d come any closer, Tatiana might have felt Scarlett’s heart begin to race or perhaps she'd already taken note of the way the vein in her neck thrummed wildly.

Tatiana allowed another laugh to bubble up from her chest as she snaked her opposite hand across the soft, delicate skin of Scarlett’s stomach to the generous curve of her hip and around to her inner thigh. “No?” she asked, rubbing circles into her skin with her fingertips.

Scarlett swallowed harshly before answering, “I won’t let you control me the way you control him.” Her attempt at maintaining the upper hand in the situation was rapidly slipping away as she bit her lip against the sensation of Tatiana’s hand hovering over her clothed core. Her resolve was finally abandoned at the feeling of the other woman's warm palm resting over the dampening spot of her silk underwear. Her need growing as she felt a gentle pressure placed to the area she needed it most.

Tatiana looked up through her lashes at Scarlett’s slack jawed expression as her fingers slipped beneath the satin band of her underwear. She smirked to herself as Scarlett huffed out a little breath and closed her eyes.

“See, you want to be good for me, don't you?" Tatiana asked in a voice dripping with honey. Scarlett heard a low moan, only recognizing it as her own voice when Tatiana began speaking again inches from Scarlett's lips. "Such a sweet sound. You're an angel. Not a devil, I can tell," she proclaimed.

Clutching Tatiana's wrist in a painful grasp Scarlett stuttered, "You-you don't know anything about m-me," feeling a rush of blood in her ears.

"I know that you're right. You're not like your brother. In fact, it is you I want to do business with," Tatiana said, placing a soft kiss to Scarlett's lips. Scarlett found herself leaning toward the kiss, but it ended as suddenly as it began with Tatiana pulling away from Scarlett's flushed body as though nothing had happened.

Scarlett opened her eyes, chest rising and falling with obvious heaving breath. Who was this woman and what did she really want? Did she know of the turmoil between Scarlett and Tommy or was she playing a game? Scarlett knew better than to trust her, but the idea of finding an ally was against her powerful brother was all too tempting.

“You did well,” Tatiana said with a broad smile, offering Scarlett her gown back with outstretched hand. “It is traditional to seal the successful examination with vodka and music. Join me for a drink?” she asked playfully and Scarlett didn't protest.

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

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[unhonestlymirror]

The Cossack Mamaryga

Based on Ukrainian folk tales

Illustrations - M. Yermak

Part 1

For twenty-five years, the Cossack Mamaryga served his master and earned three copper coins only.

The Cossack has been tired of mercenarying since childhood. It's not a Cossack thing, even if the evil forced... He decided to go see the world, to see people, to look for happiness.

Mamaryga walked for a long time. Suddenly, he saw: a poor hut was standing. An old woman was crying near the house.

- Why are you crying, grandma? - asked Cossack.

- How can I not cry? My house will soon fall apart, and I have no strength to fix it.

- Don't worry, I'll fix your house!

Mamaryga did everything right. The old woman thanked him:

- Thank you, Cossack! Take a bag made from magic braided hair. You ask it - it will do any work for you.

The Cossack thanked and went on his way.

Mamaryga walked, walked, and on the way, he met an old grandfather:

- Where are you going, grandpa?

- I go from village to village. I play the kobza, I sing songs about the Cossacks. People are listening. Someone gives a kulish, someone gives a piece of bread...

- Grandpa, take these three coins. I don't have any more. Maybe you will need them.

- Thank you, Cossack! And you accept my boots for that. They are not average - in a moment, you will relocate you to anywhere you need to go. And if evil happens - they will save you.

Mamaryga went further. Suddenly, he saw: people ran towards him.

- Who are you running away from? - asked Mamaryga.

- Evil is chasing us - the people answered. - He settled on that mountain, a six-headed zmiy. He kills people and takes away their good. And whoever he does not kill, he will take prisoner, he will forever imprison in the mountain.

- There are many of you, but there is only one zmiy, will you not overcome him?

- You can't recognize him right away... Sometimes, he turns into a warrior, and then he turns into a zmiy again. There is no one stronger than him in the world.

***

Zmiy - "snake", a dragon, an evil spirit.

Kulish - a dish of Belaruthian and Ukrainian cuisine: in Belaruthian cuisine it is porridge made of flour with lard; in Ukrainian cuisine - a millet dish on meat broth or on water, which is rubbed with lard with onions and garlic

[flamen1801]

The relationship between Pavel the First and Arakcheev, part 2: the corporal's shoals and short anger

In the first part, I talked about the good part of Pavel and Alexei's relationship, but there is never a perfect relationship. Pavel was very demanding, and Arakcheev did not always manage to perform everything perfectly.

Pavel was so passionate about artillery that the slightest violation of any order in it led him to displeasure, or even just anger. Arakcheev also did not avoid mistakes in the service. On December 11, 1794, the Tsarevich burst into the following note addressed to him: "What you sent, Mr. Lieutenant Colonel Arakcheev, is a special case today, being current, and beyond that, in its essence, and not deserving of any research, then I wonder why you sent a special Cossack with it, and did not wait for the established in The Gatchina post office, especially since there is nothing under your command except artillery, and in order for you to beware of such cases ahead. However, considering the non-compliance with the form of the investigation performed on furleyt Egorov, which is returned, because you should know that we have the name of seconds- and an example-majors do not exist, then I cannot, so as not to let you know about my surprise, recommending that you try to avoid such news in the future."

Once, almost in his first year of service in Gatchina, Arakcheev, being a guard officer, made some minor mistake. Pavel became angry and cursed him with the last words. Poor Alexey fell into a state of the deepest grief. And from the feeling of his innocence, from the thought that he was forever deprived of the mercy of the heir to the throne, he really sobbed. Shaken by grief to the depths of his soul, he ran to seek solace in the church. At that hour it was already empty, only the sexton was extinguishing candles in it. Rushing into the church hall, Alexei fell to his knees and began to pray desperately in complete silence. Suddenly, footsteps with the sound of spurs were heard behind him. He jumped up in surprise, wiped his eyes from tears and turned around: Tsarevich Pavel was standing in front of him.

— What are you crying about?- he asked the officer, who was wet with tears, affectionately.

— It pains me to lose the grace of Your Imperial Highness.

-"You didn't lose her at all!" Pavel replied and, putting his hand on Alexei's shoulder, continued: "And you will never lose it when you behave and serve as you have until now. Pray to God and serve faithfully, and you know that prayer is for God, and service is not for the king.

Alexey threw himself on his knees in front of Pavel and, overwhelmed with feelings, exclaimed:

— All I have is God and you!His Highness told him to get up and follow him. They left the church in silence and walked some distance. Pavel stopped, looked at Arakcheev and said:

—Go home… In time, I will make a man out of you!

Later, Alexey Andreevich would claim, recalling his service under Pavel, that he showered him with favors "not according to his merits, but according to his goodness."

Despite all his poverty, Alexei never turned to Grand Duke Pavel Petrovich with a request for a salary increase or the allocation of some one-time sum to him. Pavel was an extremely thrifty person, especially in monetary expenses, however, knowing his attitude towards the "servant" Arakcheev, it can be assumed that he would hardly refuse to provide him with assistance. But Alexey not only did not ask for money, but even managed to evade receiving the few benefits that were due to him according to his positions.

In December 1794, Grand Duke Pavel Petrovich granted Lieutenant Colonel Arakcheev a leave of absence. Alexey himself asked for it. He stayed at his parents' house for two and a half months. Andrey Andreevich was already in his seventh decade and he perceived every date with Alexei as his last. That's why I wanted my son to stay at home longer. But Alexey was eager to join the service. Saying goodbye to his son, who was leaving for Gatchina, Andrei Andreevich said in his heart: "Alexey is like a wolf: no matter how you feed him, he looks into the forest!"

In 1795, Andrei Andreevich visited his Alexei in Gatchina and, apparently, it was then that he had the opportunity to meet Tsarevich Pavel.On July 29, 1796, Andrei Andreevich passed away, not having lived three and a half months before such a rise in the career of his eldest son, which he, a poor nobleman and a retired lieutenant, could hardly imagine in his wildest fantasies.Alexey received the news of his father's death a few days later. The Tsarevich hastened to comfort him. "Now I have learned about the sad news you have received," Pavel wrote to Alexey in his note. — Knowing my disposition towards yourself, you cannot doubt my participation, especially since I knew him, and there was a man of the old schlag (training). God, comfort you."

Unfortunately, there is very little information about the relationship between Arakcheev and Pavel during the latter's reign. I dare to assume that they remained the same as they were in Gatchina.

In early October 1822, the wife of Paul I, Empress Maria Feodorovna, invited Arakcheev to Gatchina for the consecration of a new church church. The Count will respond to this invitation immediately: "Having been honored at this hour to receive Your gracious Imperial Majesty's Rescript, I hasten before my arrival to bring my sincere and true loyal gratitude for allowing me to be at the consecration of the Temple of God in Gatchina, to this place of the beginning of my happiness, where I was brought up and instructed in the service and all my the concepts of my late benefactor, Sovereign and father, whose memory will forever remain in my heart, truly devoted to your August House."

The end

[starlightshadowsworld]

Differences between season one of Bungou Stray dogs and the first 16 chapters of the Manga.

Thinks it's neat seeing whats changed and I really like making lists.

Spoilers for the first season of the Anime and first 16 chapters of the Manga.

For context I watched the Anime subbed and read the Manga in English.

In the Anime Atsushi's flashbacks are usually the same one but in the Manga we see different ones of his time at the Orphanage. 

In the Anime the Orphanage has stain glass windows.

Akutagawa coughs a lot more in the Manga. 

(Also Bones did him dirty. 

And Yosano, her hair is so much better in the Manga. Chuuya looks okay but man he do be looking very gremlin like.)

The Azure Messenger stuff isn't in the Manga but is in the Anime. (I think it's taken from the light novel on Dazai's entrance exam.)

When Atsushi bumps into someone while shopping with Yosano who flips out at them and her when she apologises. 

In the Anime the guy tries to guess what her job is, she says she's a doctor. And that he has one arm to many, before breaking the one in her grasp.

In the Manga he calls her a bitch, she breaks his hand and says "then shall I xxx your puny xxx by stepping on them like a proper bitch."

Which he brings up on the train later, blushing and asking did she really mean she'd do, whatever that was.

She's disgusted and bashes his head against the wall.

In the Manga while captured, Dazai calls Chuuya paranoid and tells him his hair will fall out of he frets so much.

Implies it already is and Chuuya takes his hat off to show he's not hiding a bald spot. 

Also in his "you can fool Akutugawa but not me" bit. 

In the Anime Chuuya calls himself Dazai's old partner and in the Manga calls himself Dazai's old friend.

When rescuing Atsushi on the boat, Kunikida in the Anime says no ones getting paid for this rescue. 

And in the Manga says the entire agency is working to save you.

In the Manga Dazai puts on glasses and waves to a random Mafia member saying long time no see before going to archives. 

In the Anime we than see Fitzgerald commenting on the bounty plan being a failure.

But in the Manga we see that he's talking about it to Agatha Christy.

Who's listed as, the commander of the order of the clock tower. With the ability "And than there were none."

Before seeing Fyodor Dostoyevsky, head of the underground organisation, "Rats in the house of the head"with his ability "Crime and Punishment."

(Which I think is written in Russian.)

After Fukuzawa agrees to take Kyouka in.

Minoura, the police guy who had to arrest his own subordinate in that case Ranpo took over, comes in. Says he had a case.

In the Anime that's where the scene ends. 

But in the Manga it carries on, he spots Kyouka and mentions she looks like the orphan girl turned ruthless assassin who has a warrant for her arrest. 

He asks about her parents, if she has any legal documents. 

Atsushi cuts in saying he found her after receiving a request from the government to look for this child.

... Just as he was doing the cossack dance in a wheat field. 

(Which is apparently also known as the Hopak, a Ukrainian folk dance.... Which, is quite the story Atsushi.)

Junichiro internally says that it's a great improvisation while Kunikida internally calls him a moron.

Fukuzuwa than interjects and says she's his grand-daughter and seeing them both eye him, Minoura is just like... They're cut from the cloth and apologises for his rudeness.

In the Anime Junichiro tells them the case for the car being stuck in a building. 

In the Manga Kunikida asks for the present from the police and Kenji holds up a folder saying you mean work. 

In the Anime Kunikida says it'll be good for Atsushi to shadow other agents and quickly learn the ropes.

In the Manga he tells Atsushi he can't keep being pampered (weird thing to say to a guy who was just kidnapped) and needs to start working with his fellow agents to get used to his job.

But Kunikida does pat Atsushi's shoulder and says he should be alright.

In the Manga we see Higuichi find Akutugawa in the sea.

In the Anime during her conversation with Mori about Akutugawa's condition, Elise is drawing with crayons on the floor.  While in the Manga she's sat at Mori's side.

In the Manga while explaining the rules of Anne's game, Lucy says violence is prohibited in the room and they can't destroy anything in there.

In the Manga after Dazai returns and tries to get Atsushi to write his report, Kunikida ponders that Dazai is always messing with Atsushi.

But there's a note saying "and yet he doesn't stop him.” 

[thirteen-cats-in-a-trenchcoat]

This random au I can't stop thinking about is where John, Ian and Yassen come back to life, and they have to live with Alex and Jack (we're gonna ignore the lack of rooms in the house to fit so many people). It'd be so chaotic and tom would come often cuz yeah, and everyone would make sure Blunt goes on a one-way trip to hell, and alex would adapt to this new normal and yeah I guess?

I can imagine the interactions between everyone, like, Yassen would come to the understanding that at the end of the day, John was only human, and didn't have all the answers. But John might not be able to forgive himself for what he though he 'caused', and takes longer to get that it's not his fault yassen became a contract killer, at least not wholly.

Yassen would at one point, share his journal with everyone, when he feels completely safe. He would also escape Scorpia. People may know he's alive, including Mi6, but they also know he's too good to be caught, or they think he's dead.

Alex would be a happy with his escape from Mi6. Ian would quit. John would see his son grow up to be a good man.

Yassen sorta saw alex as John when he was rescuing him from Sayle, but at some point, that morphed into him seeing alex as Yasha. Yassen protecting alex would almost be like closure to him, like getting peace, knowing his past self would be proud. Proud that he's not Cossack anymore.

Ian and Yassen reconsile, after all, they both care about alex, and understand death is an occupational hazard.

Jack is helping everyone through like, everything, and also becomes a lawyer, in England.

This is basically a fix-it au, but the thing is, this will never come to be.

Because there are no time machines

Because actions (the ones taken *and* the ones not taken) have consequences

Because really, John got blown up by his best friend

Ian got shot in the head while trying to go back to his nephew

Yassen got betrayed by everyone, and fell into a downward spiral since 14, and died in his 30s,though he wasnt truly living for over a decade

Jack got blown up, trying to get free, and she was never meant to be part of any espionage in the first place, she just wanted alex to be happy and safe.

And alex is always left behind, and he's on borrowed time, and it's running out, while every single good thing was snatched from him in one brutal year.

[theophan-o]

Bohun's Postage Stamp

The Ukrainian postage stamp with an image of Ivan Bohun (c. 1618-1664), emitted by the USEP "Ukrposhta" and the Publishing House "Marka Ukrainy" in 2006, as a part of the block commemorating famous Ukrainian Cossack heroes from the 16th-18th century:

The postal envelope from the first day of its emission, 18.08.2006:

These beautiful artifacts have been designed by Ukrainian artists: Volodymyr Taran (Володимир В. Таран, b. 1960), Oleksandr & Sergiy Kharuk (Олександр та Сергій Харук, b. 1960).

The image of Bohun continues here the tradition of Mykola Arkas & Piotr Stachiewicz:

[romanovsmurdermystery]

On the photographs: top left: Hvidøre House, present day, top right: A Summer's Day at Hvidøre, painting by Ferdinand Richardt; bottom Hvidøre House in 1920s

Hvidøre House - the last residence of Maria Feodorovna (Dagmar of Denmark).

The Hvidøre House was purchased in 1905 by Maria Feodorovna (26 November 1847 – 13 October 1928) and her sister, Alexandra of the UK, as their summer residence during their visits to Denmark. Until 1914, Maria Feodorovna and her sister spent every year from September to November in the Hvidøre House.

After the October revolution of 1917 in Russian, in April 1919 Maria Feodorovna immigrated first to the UK and then moved to Denmark, where in November 1919 she took residence in the Hvidøre House. Later, in 1920, she was joined by her daughter, Olga Alexandrovna, her daughter's husband Nikolai Kulikovsky, and their two children Tikhon and Guri.

In 1925, the residents of the Hvidøre House amounted to 24 people apart from the immediate mentioned above family the residents of the house were:

The lady-in waiting, Zinaida Mengden

Chambermaid, Cecilia “Kiki” Grunwald

Two other chambermaids: Martha Ozer and Emilia Tenzo

One wardrobe attendant, Olga Wassiliewa

One maid, Maria Iwanova

Life Cossacks: Yaschik and Poliakov

The waiter, Ivan Wiagis

Two danish kitchen maids: Alpha Ellen Margrethe Jensen and Maria Johanne Willers Nielsen

One Housemaid, Emilie Johanne

One Maid, Thora Elvira Munch

A married couple Andersen the husband being gardener Knud Emil and their maid Anne Kirstine

Maria Feodorovna lived in the Hvidøre House till her death in 1928.

Two years after her death in 1930, the Hvidøre House was sold by her daughters, Olga and Xenia.

On the photographs: the interiors of the Hvidøre House.

[wearewilynumbers]

Wily stalked off to his quarters trailed by a myriad of his own creations urging, no badgering, him to take a rest. He had gone for months with little to no rest which while not an uncommon occurrence he wasn't getting any younger and that was a point many of them bluntly stated.

While not as vocal Shadow was also part of the crowd urging their creator to rest his mind and body. It was practically a miracle when the stubborn old man had relinquished.

It ended up being a double edged sword for the ninja. He was glad that Wily was finally taking care of himself but now that the doctor wouldn't need his services for a bit it left Shadow with is thoughts.

Had it really almost been a year since their fight?

He had not heard anything directly from Blues since that day. The most he had gotten was a confirmation that the eldest was still alive from Gemini but even now it had been a long time since even his brother had heard from him.

Desperately, he tried to push those thoughts away. Blues had made his feelings clear that day. Still, he felt a ping of worry that nagged and clawed at the back of his thoughts. None of the usual parts that went 'missing' from the store houses had been conveniently lost since their fight. He had been checking daily for any signs of number tampering or missing items and nothing. Perhaps that close call with Metal was too much for Blues in all his disrepair.

A sigh slipped past his lips. His mind was made up and later that night those key parts would once again no longer exist according to the ledgers.

Hours would pass as he carried the delicate packaged tucked in his arms. Each of Blues' hideaways was just as empty as the last. The search itself had started to become an ordeal in frustration. Daylight would break in a few hours which would delay his search further.

If Blues or Tango weren't found soon then he would have to relinquish and give the package to the young Cossack. There was enough time for him to investigate one more of Blues' main hiding spots.

This one was promising. Disturbed dirt around the door was enough to conclude someone had entered the abandoned building fairly recently. Slipping through the shadows to enter was child's play as per usual for someone with his skills. If it was anyone else he was searching for they wouldn't know he was coming.

Blues though, he was frustratingly different.