#woman of eger

[artthatgivesmefeelings]

Bertalan Székely (Hungarian, 1835-1910) Woman of Eger, 1867 Hungarian National Gallery On 29 September, 1552, an army of 70,000 Turks gathered at Szolnok and went on to attack the castle of Eger. The defenders of the castle numbered all together 2000, including serfs with no understanding of warfare, and many women and children. Nevertheless, the defenders of the castle, under the leadership of István Dobó, repelled the attacks, and on 18 October, the Turks retreated from the castle. The most famous contemporary account of the heroic defence of the castle was Sebestyén “Lantos” Tinódi’s ballad of 1553, the Fight for the Castle of Eger. Mihály Horváth called attention to the role of women in the siege in his 19th -century work. In his composition, Bertalan Székely wanted to express the Hungarians’ disadvantage in the struggle, as he describes it in his journal. By depicting the central female figure with the attackers in front of her and the castle in flames behind her, he evokes a feeling of true heroism, while creating an eternal symbol of patriotic sacrifice. - Iván Boldizsár explains the historical background to Székely’s Women of Eger: “In the sixteenth century, when the Turks had conquered the greater part of Hungary, Eger became the protecting bulkwark of the northern regions. After Buda, the capital, had fallen to the Turks, they tried to extend their dominion northwards to the Carpathians in order to carry through outflanking movements towards Vienna in the west and the southern territories of Poland in the east. Eger already had a fortress, built by Italian experts in fortification, to guard the valley which was the natural line of advance to the north. It was on these walls that the memorable battle for the defense of Eger was fought. A garrison of not more than two thousand, under István Dobó, resisted the challenge of a Turkish force said to be a hundred and fifty thousand strong. The citizens of Eger fought with dauntless courage, and when the fort seemed to be in danger of capitulation, the women joined the battle, gurling down cauldrons of boiling water and tar against the onrushing enemy. The struggle was finally crowned with victory, and the Turks turned back. This great feat has passed into literature. Not only dies every schoolchild in Hungary learn of it, but works of fiction have been written round it, among them the popular ’Stars of Eger’ by Géza Gárdonyi, a lasting work of Hungarian youth literature…. The fortress consists of a hill enclosed by massive walls, and honeycombed with underground passages at three different levels. It was this complicated system of underground defenses which enabled the defenders to face an enemy of vastly superior strength….Here and there are recesses in the walls of the corridors. During the siege sentinels sat here watching peas placed on a drum. The trembling of the peas showed where the Turks were beginning to undermine the walls, and by this simple device the defenders could know when to take measures to avert the danger by drilling counter-mines.“

[smooth-perceval]

“Make the world go away”

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader is struggling after going public with Charles- reader has a breakdown when Charles returns home.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of depression, reader hating herself a lot- a lot of body shaming, death threats, Charles being so sweet, a lot of tears, fluff, my bad writing.

Word count: 2,041

Music: Make the world go away- Duffy.

Key: Y/N (Your name)

A/N: I’ve been feeling a bit off lately- and there was no other song to describe how I felt than the one I have tagged- it’s a cover by Duffy, original singer Timi Yuro if I’m correct <3

THIS WAS RUSHED I HAVE A VERRYYYY GOOD CHARLES SERIES THAT IM STARTING AND IM EGER TO GET THE FORST CHAPTER OUT BY TOMROROW EVENING!!

Enjoy!!

Charles and me went public roughly 3 weeks ago- not officially public, but I mean it’s official in the sense I had been spotted with him during race weekend- and not exactly in a friendly manner, wrapped up with one and another at the back of his garage- stealing sweet kisses and adoring smiles.

I’ve attended races before- been in exact same spot before yet this time we got caught, and well-

My, oh my you should’ve seen the headlines…

-Charles newest trophy,

-Leclerc at it again,

-Leclerc’s mysterious girl.

-The Ferrari driver and the other woman.

The other woman? It’s been a year since his ex and him announced their split- somehow I’m the other woman? I mean give me a break…

Seriously, give me a break- the hate I’ve received for liking a boy was just unreal. Charles was a saint in their eyes- but me? Oh I was the wicked witch of the west, I somehow bewitched this boy into wanting me- it was all my fault!

Overtime the hate as always gets too much, and now I find myself every night finding a new flaw on my once perfect body. A new feature on me I didn’t realise was so disgusting until that one user online commented about it.

I found myself stuck in rotation infront of a mirror I used to once love admiring myself in. The same old mirror that now shows a broken girl, struggling to breathe like I was drowning in a pool of hatred. The world weighing me down sitting like devils on my shoulders, always reminding me that I am not good enough for the world.

Not ever good enough for Charles.

And just like a routine I was stuck in crying myself to sleep every night and ensure Charles that I was fine, “I’m just tired” I was tired truthfully, I was tired of it all, I couldn’t take it anymore- I hated myself for not loving me more, I hated me for not loving Charles more, I hated me for not being perfect for him. I hate me.

I finally urged myself to get in the shower tonight. Not only the fact I needed one- but because Charles was soon to arrive home, and I had to wash off every piece of evidence that I’ve been feeling so lost and alone.

As the night rolled on more, I laid in bed- Charles robe tied tightly around my body hiding the matching black underwear set, hair still wrapped up in a towel. The mirrors were avoided- I knew for a fact I looked terrible, but couldn’t bring myself to confirm it. My eyes were glued to the time on my phone, expecting the guy I need is such desperate times to walk through the door.

Another 10 more minutes and his back to being mine. Sighing to myself I rolled my head to the side the towel coming loose and sprawling across the bed, finally catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and like a trance I found myself sliding off the bed and over to the exact mirror, watching myself like I was hunting me down. The girl in the mirror wasn’t getting away again, she had to be judged.

My damp hair dripped behind me leaving a little trail from the bed to the mirror, some wet strands sticking to my face. With a huff I brushed them back before untying the robe, revealing my semi-naked self, my bra strap sliding down with the robe- and like my hair I brushed it back up with a defeated sigh.

Moving side to side, I observed every crease in my body, every mole, every dent, every scratch. I observed everything- stepping away from the mirror I took in my entire body, it was horrid. What did Charles see in me?

The girls he could have and he chose me- I feel sick looking at myself, I don’t know how he must feel… I hate me. I hate that nobody thinks I’m perfect for him, perfect for their Charles.

Lip quivering, and my cheeks slowly getting wetter by the moment, I slid my hands over my stomach and hips- my skin feeling rough, biting my hands at every movement.

Eating me alive- and with shallow breaths I glanced away from the mirror trying to regain some control over myself. The shallow breaths soon eased, and I finally felt like I could breathe again.

Like I wasn’t suffocating anymore, or that the room wasn’t getting smaller and as soon as I could breathe I looked back at myself once again.

“mon chéri-” (my darling)

Spinning around on the spot- caught in the act I stared at a very confused Charles.

“What are you doing?” A little smile on his face as he stepped in the room, forgetting his suitcase and bags behind him.

“I didn’t hear the door go-” swallowing the lump in my throat I quickly crouch down scrambling to grab Charles robe from the floor.

Charles had moved further into the room crouching down to my height. “And even so you still haven’t welcomed me home.” His smile grew even more teasing as he placed his knee onto the robe holding it down.

“Charles move over-” a fake laugh left me as I tugged away at the robe, more self conscious by the second.

“Where’s my kiss?”

“Two seconds let me just cover up-”

“Do I have to kiss you hm?” Raising his eyebrows he brushed my damp hair over my shoulder.

“Charles move.” Looking up at him with a glare, I pulled hardener at the fabric underneath his knee.

Now furrowing his eyebrows, he lifted his knee watching me, like a lion stalking his prey, eyes glued to me just like I was not long ago in the mirror.

Quickly scrambling away, I pulled the robe over me quickly tying it even more tighter around my waist, abruptly standing up.

“Sorry… I didn’t meant to raise my voice.” Chewing my lip anxiously, looking down at Charles, still knelt on one knee, on the floor beneath me.

“What was that all about?”

“What? Me raising my voice?”

Shaking his head, he now knelt on both knees raising himself up a little, his head at waist line as he looked up at me.

“You practically begged for this robe.”

His face showed no emotion. Truthfully he looked like he was still piecing together what just happened. “I was just getting cold that’s all- come stand up so I can welcome you home-” rubbing my hands through his hair, I slid my hands to either side of his face.

And like in a trance guided him to his feet, him now standing tall above me.

“Welcome home” leaning up onto my tip toes I kissed his lips softly.

Charles lips didn’t move against mine, they was stiff. He was now stiff.

“You’ve been crying.” Closing my eyes, I pulled away from him stepping back.

“No I haven’t long showered Charles.”

“I know what this is.” Nodding his head with surety he stepped closer. Guiding his hands to my hips and pulling me in, both of us now inches apart.

“Take it off.” His hands now found the strings of the robe pulling them loose.

“Charles-”

“I’m not asking Y/N.” With tired eyes, they silently begged me to re-undress. Mine? They filled with tears once again, lip trembling as I tired to hold it all back.

“I’m so sorry Charles…” looking down at his hands watching him intently, them now brushing the robe back off my shoulders and back onto the ground, kicking it aside.

Gulping to myself Charles now moved, looking up quickly wondering where he had gone, I then felt his presence behind me. “Look at you.” He brushed my hair over the other shoulder, now resting his head on the bare one, hands now resting on my hips again.

“Look at you mon chéri.” (My darling)

“I am looking at me…” sighing I tilt my head slightly, the tears making their way down and dripping off my chin.

“Why you crying?” His hand reached around wiping both cheeks and cupping my jaw, bringing my head to tilt his way.

“Because-”

With a delicate kiss to my cheek, he then stared at me through the mirror.

“Use your words Y/N”

With another loud sigh, I finally gave in. Pushing my back closer into his chest, his arms in an instinct manner wrapped securely around me holding me tight.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles.”

“Who said so?”

“Everyone says so-”

“My maman thinks your perfect.” Smiling a little at me his hands started caressing my body.

“I think your perfect.” He placed a gentle kiss to the top of my spine and slowly trailed kisses down it.

“I just want them all to leave me alone…” looking up at the ceiling I bite my lip, to stop more tears, and to suppress any other emotions wanting to escape.

“Who?” While once again knelt on the floor he grabbed my waist softly twirling me on the spot.

“the whole world.” Subconsciously my hands now rested on his shoulders squeezing them tight.

“Make the world go away.”

Smiling sadly up at me, his head placed itself resting against my stomach, arms hugging my legs, like a child.

“Get it off of my shoulders.”

Wrapping my arms protectively around his head I bent slightly trying to lower myself to his level. He was quick to move, now throwing me over his shoulders and moving over to the bed, and ever so softly placing me down. Throwing the towel that was once wrapped around my head somewhere else in the room.

“ma jolie fille” (my pretty girl)

Charles started placing sweet kisses over every inch of my body, whispering sweet nothings between each kiss.

“Do you realise, how absolutely gorgeous you are?” Now hovering above me, one arm supporting him up, the other tracing small circles on my inner thigh. Clouding my thoughts.

“Do you realise, that no matter if you was a worm-” pausing he rolled his eyes with a smile, reciting when I asked him a few weeks ago if he would still be with me if I was a worm.

“You do realise I would still love you with my whole entire heart and soul?”

Leaning down his lips brushed mine, hand now stopped moving- but gripping onto my thigh kneading it slowly.

“I’m not good enough for you Charles…” breathing hitched, not for holding back tears- better yet holding back a moan, Charles had me wrapped around his finger always, and the way his making me forget the such hate I have had, and the emotions I have shed. Made me love him.

“You right.” Like a shot to the chest- I started to close up.

“You more than perfect for me.” Sighing a breath of relief, my arms wrapped around his neck pulling him a little closer.

“Je t'aime Y/N.” (I love you Y/N)

Once again my breathing hitched, and my heart skipped a beat.

“I love your smile, your eyes, your nose, your lips, your ears, your neck, your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, yours legs, your feet, even your toes. I love you.”

Eyes welling up I sighed in a bliss.

“I don’t think I can ever stop the hate mon chéri… I wish I could protect you from the world truthfully. But I make you a promise that for every day I’m breathing I promise to love your heart- and fill it with pure utter happiness and love. Whatever them people are saying are wrong, and even if you looked like your little worm, I will still love that caring heart of yours.” (My darling)

Leaning down to my chest, he kisses just between my breast so gently, like if he didn’t my heart would break.

“je t'aime aussi Charles.” (I love you too Charles) Finally with a genuine smile on my face I rest my head back comfortably into the cushions.

“Now let me show you how much I love you.” Biting down on the middle of my bra he pulled at it teasingly. Causing me to giggle.

“let me welcome you home mon beau garçon.” (My pretty boy)

A/N: Okyyy it was very rushed but like I said I have a Charles x Fem!Reader series coming outttt and I wanna let you all have the first chalter as soon as possible!!!

Masterlist

[melanieph321]

Can you write something about Ruben based on “Beautiful liar” by Beyoncé&Shakira? I don’t think he is that kind of guy but I don’t know why I though about him while listening it😂

Yeah, so this request is too good to be a one shot. I'm making it into a three part series!⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ruben Dias x Reader - Beautiful Liar Part 1/3

Enjoy!

"You snore when you sleep, did you know that?"

"I don't." You muttered.

Rubens hands moved under the bed covers, caressing and grouping your naked body.

"You're gonna be late for work."

He grinned. "Let me work on you first."

It had been your first time spending the night. Sex with Ruben was just as you expected, eager and a bit needy. His egerness and need for your body showed long into the early morning. Who knows, you two might have been fucking each other all night.

"Ruben, go!" You groaned. But he rolled on top of you in a pathetic attempt to get a quicky in before work.

"Five more minutes."

He traced sloppy kisses down your body, his head disappearing beneath the duvet.

"Fuck."

His hands spread your legs like butter whilst his tounge swirled your clit like a popsicle.

"You can leave whenever, no stress."

Following a hot shower together, you found yourself in Ruben's kitchen. He was getting dressed for work, whilst you sat nibbling on a cluster of sweet grapes.

"What, no making me breakfast?"

He turned to you, his shirt yet buttoned and a sloppy black tie hanging around his neck.

"Seems like your eating me up right now." He smiled. Your eyes were sinfully scoping out his sculptured body.

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Besides..." He said, working the buttons on his shirt. "I've already had my breakfast this morning. It was delicious."

You held your chuckle, thighs pressing together underneath the table. The sensation of him was still there, Ruben and his slippery tounge.

"Have a nice day at work." You said. He came over to the kitchen Island where you sat, tilting your head back by slightly pulling your hair.

"God you're so sexy." He said and kissed you lips.

"Thanks, you two."

He chuckled "Don't forget to lock the door when you leave. The key is in the little pot by the door.

"Okay, I will."

Your day was much slower than Rubens. Working from home was usually a bore, but Rubens apartment had a nicer view than yours.

You asked yourself if this was supposed to be a one night stand? Ruben had been very relentless about his attraction to you ever since you stepped into his office two months ago. It had gone all down hill from there. Telling him that you didn't date colleagues, let alone your boss' assistant only seemed to make him what you more. Forbidden love. Which hopless romantic hadn't fallen into that trap before? You were glad however, that Ruben had respected you needs to take things slow. He neither saw you as a tease or a office cunt for making him wait two months to get with you.

"Shoot!"

It was around lunchtime. You were headed towards your favorite café in Manchester, when you realized that you had forgotten your purse at Ruben's. You had no intention on going back there once you left. It would be better for Ruben not to hear from you in a while. This way rumors around the office would seize to spread. Nevertheless you needed your purse and Ruben had already told you where the spare key was. Your reaction though, stepping into his apartment and finding another woman in there, a pregnant one at that.

"Hello?" She smiled. "Can I help you?"

She was surprisingly calm for a woman being met by a stranger looking for a purse.

"Um...I just forgot my purse." You said, unsure how to introduce yourself to the woman. Was she Rubens sister, in that case had Ruben told her about you?

"Oh, this one?" She held up the bag in front if her, looking admirable at it. After all, it was your finest Louis Vuitton. Ruben got it for you on your birthday.

"Yes. Thank you." You stepped forwards to grab the bag, forcing yourself not to stare at the womas bloated belly.

"Are you Rubens assistant?" She asked, with a hand to her stomach. The ring on her finger was beautiful. You were a bit of a jewelry enthusiasts so seeing a fine diamond like that always caught your attention.

"No, I'm his....his...we work together. I'm his colleague." You didn't know who this woman was, she could be working for HR for all you know. You and Ruben had agreed to keep things on the low, at least until you switched office next month.

"How nice to finally meet one of Ruben's coworkers. I barely know what he does for a living. " The woman laughed, her laughter seemed to lift the whole apartment. She was beautiful, you thought. Plump lips and thick brown hair.

"Well, I couldn't tell you." You chuckled. "Other than being my boss assistant I barely know anything myself."

It was true, you weren't even sure when and if Ruben had lunch breaks.

"You're funny." The woman said, stretching out a hand for you to greet.

"Y/N."

"Y/N, how beautiful. I'm Charlotte Dias, Rubens wife."

A moment of silence, as time seemed to collapse around you.

"C...come again?"

"I'm Charlotte Dias, Ruben's wife?"

His pregnant wife.

The woman looked at you with furrowed brows. "Haven't Ruben told you about me?

"Um...no, no he hasn't." You felt lightheaded and a sudden need to vomit.

"Is everything okay hun?" Charlotte stepped forward, her hands looking ready to catch you if you fell.

Your steps were wobbly, however you had to get out of there.

"I'm sorry I..." You moved to the door, fumbling with its handle.

"Wait, do you need me to..."

The door slammed shut behind you before Ruben's wife could finnish her sentence. Coming down the elevator, you stepped onto a busy street, feeling like you've gone crazy. Ruben had been lying to you. Lying to you about everything. You felt a need to hold in your tears but the pain that came with it was unbearable to withstand and so you weeped. Right there on the busy street you sat down on the sidewalk and weeped. How could he do this to you? That fucking liar.

[the-busy-ghost]

Men Called Him Sir Gray Steele

Having many Strange and Norrell thoughts at the moment, but since I'm not exactly the type of fan who goes through and annotates and analyses I'm probably missing things or overthinking other details that have already been noticed.

That being said I've arrived at Chapter 51, "A Family by the Name of Greysteel" and this reminds me of my old theory about Flora Greysteel's name. Potentially the most famous Flora in British history was Flora MacDonald, who in 1746 assisted Charles Edward Stuart in escaping to Skye in the aftermath of the failed Jacobite Rising. I may be overthinking this aspect, since as a Scot I'm naturally conditioned to associate the name Flora with both that story, and stories about women who help historical and mythical "heroes" generally (note- no opinions are to be given on the character of Jacobite claimants in this post, but I have many).

What I am now less convinced that I'm overthinking is the 'Greysteel' aspect. Now Greysteil was a ballad which was extremely popular in sixteenth century Scotland (though like many popular ballads and poems from this period it may have its roots on the other side of the border in northern England as well). The references to Greysteil in Scottish history are probably related to the poem Sir Eger and Sir Grime, which may be fifteenth century in origin, but chiefly survives from 17th century versions, including in Bishop Percy's collection. The plot synopsis on wikipedia makes it clear that this is a poem replete with strange knights, and, perhaps more importantly, helpful female characters who go around giving gifts of magical swords to the heroes or generally acting as 'cunning' leeches (a leech was the term often given to a medical person, but it's more ambiguous than the rather more specific terms 'surgeon' or 'physician'). The name Greysteil refers to the antagonist of Eger and Grime in the poem- he is a mysterious knight who lives in the 'forbidden' country.

In preparation for reading chapter 51, therefore, (and while my food is cooking), I'm skim-reading a copy of the version of this poem in the Percy folio and trying to keep any important details in mind so I can compare it with Strange and Norrell. (Copy printed here)

What I do notice immediately is that when Greysteil (clad in red and gold) defeats knights who have the misfortune of coming across him, as a prize he takes the little finger of the man's right hand. This is his calling card.

It's a bit early in my read to say for certain but this absolutely calls to mind the fact that the gentleman with the thistle-down hair takes the little finger of Lady Pole's left hand as a token of the agreement when he agrees to help Norrell bring her back to life. Now taking a little finger may be a common motif in other literature too, I'm not sure, but given that there are other reasons to connect Strange and Norrell to the old poem Greysteel I have to wonder if this is significant.

In heraldry, the man's coat of arms often went on the right or dexter (viewer's left) and the woman's on the left or sinister. From what I've come across over the last decade this tends to be seen in other depictions of male-female relations in mediaeval and early modern culture, with maleness associated with the right and female associated with the left (bearing in mind that these were often married couples where the straightforward gender binary was at its most evident). So I have to wonder if Greysteil taking the little finger from the right hand of his (presumably all) male enemies, and the fairy in Strange and Norrell taking the little finger of the left hand of the woman he enchants, can be compared.

Again I have no idea yet what this may mean for the significance of Flora Greysteel, and whether we are to assume that her family has some connection to either the figure in the ballad or the gentleman with the thistle-down hair- I have yet to actually re-read chapter 51 and find out. But I'm posting this here in case it's useful to more observant fans than me and in case anyone can offer any insight. It was always a question I'd have loved to ask the author if there was ever a Q&A but I may be twenty years too late on this one.

Anyway, on with my re-read of Sir Eger and Sir Grime (and dinner)!

[stephensmithuk]

A Scandal in Bohemia

This is the first of the short stories to be published in The Strand. The character was of course clearly established by this point in A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of the Four, which were both serialised in other magazines.

Holmes as aroace - we've got some pretty clear textual implications here. Baring-Gould's belief Holmes and Adler became lovers is rather unfounded, IMHO.

Trincomalee is a port city in what is now Sri Lanka. That would have been a rather long trip for Holmes!

A "slavey" is a maidservant. Watson's wife has let her go for incompetence.

Egria seems to be a mis-rendition of Eger, now the Czech border town of Cheb. Albrecht von Wallenstein was a mercenary commander on the Catholic side in the Thirty Years' War, considered one of the most successful mercs of all time - until he got caught plotting against the Holy Roman Emperor (seemingly trying to negotiate a peace deal behind his back) and was assassinated by his own commanders.

Carlsbad is now Karlovy Vary in Czechia. The German name is used by no less than three American cities.

There was a King of Bohemia, but it was one of the titles held by the Austro-Hungarian Emperor by this point. Franz Joseph I did have a long-standing platonic relationship with an Austrian actress, but was otherwise pretty restrained by the standards of European monarchs.

One popularly cited inspiration for Adler is Lillie Langtry, an American actress who was one of the then Prince of Wales' many mistresses and had a very interesting life, including being the first celebrity "endorser".

A brougham is a four-wheeled carriage with an enclosed compartment for four passengers and an open seat at the front for a driver plus footman. Named after a politician called Lord Brougham.

"Adventress" is a euphemism for courtesan. The king is implying Irene Adler is a high-class prostitute.

The Victorians themselves frequently viewed ladies acting is not that far removed from prostitution and certainly quite a lot of actresses at least dabbled in that.

A prima donna is the leading female performer in an opera company. They had a reputation of being well, prima donnas, hence the term becoming common.

A "cabinet" is roughly equivalent to a 4"x6" photo in size. Not hugely easy to conceal.

A grand in upfront expenses? No wonder Holmes could afford to stage an entire street fight!

A landau is a convertible carriage - the roof can be lowered. They're commonly used for ceremonial occasions, such as royal weddings.

The Inner Temple is one of the four Inns of Court - a professional body for barristers and judges: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inner_Temple

An ostler was someone who looked after the horses of someone staying at an inn.

"Nonconformist" is a term, falling into disuse now, for Protestants who do not belong to the Church of England, such as the United Reform Church. They were discriminated against, although to a lesser degree than Catholics and nearly all the legal restrictions had gone by 1888. They became a major voting bloc for the Liberal Party and later Labour, with the Church of England historically being "the Tory Party at prayer", although the latter has moved a good deal to the left economically under recent Archbishops.

Women playing male parts - especially young male parts - became a thing in the Restoration period i.e. the reign of Charles II when women were finally allowed on the stage and became rather popular due to the fact these ladies were wearing tights or trousers... so, yeah.

By the late Victorian period, it was still pretty common in burlesque (not that sort!) and pantomime; the tradition of the 'principal boy', a male panto lead character, like Aladdin or Dick Whittington, played by a young woman has gotten rare, but is still a thing. Oh, yes it is, just ask Bonnie Langford.

1880s evening dress was modest by modern standards, it seems.

[slowtides]

Reading List for 2023

I have settled on my reading list for the year and my reading goal. The books below encompass the books I will choose from (I don't expect to finish all of them). My goal is to read 52 books this year, not including JAFF. I will probably return to this list several times just to discuss how it is going.

Nonfiction

This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate by Naomi Klein (2014)

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde (1982)

Warrior Poet: A Biography of Audre Lorde by Alexis de Veaux (2006)

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (2007)

Blue Nights by Joan Didion (2011)

Let Me Tell You What I Mean by Joan Didion (2021)

A House of My Own: Stories from My Life by Sandra Cisneros (2015)

A Taste of Power: A Black Woman’s Story by Elaine Brown (1992)

Some of Us Did Not Die by June Jordan (2002)

On Call: Political Essays by June Jordan (1998)

The Cultural Politics of Emotion by Sara Ahmed (2004)

Upstream: Selected Essays by Mary Oliver (2016)

Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America by Firoozeh Dumas (2004)

The Choice: Embrace the Possible by Edith Eger (2017)

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner (2021)

Ohitika Woman by Mary Brave Bird (1994)

And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos by John Berger (1991)

Time is the Thing a Body Moves Through by T Fleischmann (2019)

Ex Libris by Anne Fadiman (1998)

The Care Manifesto by The Care Collective (2020)

Dancing at the Edge of the World by Ursula K. Le Guin (1997)

Fiction

A Book of Common Prayer by Joan Didion (1977)

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami (2014)

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (2019)

The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante (2013)

Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay by Elena Ferrante (2014)

The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante (2015)

The Lost Daughter by Elena Ferrante (2008)

The Bone People by Keri Hulme (1986)

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (2006)

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (1811)

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814)

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (1817)

Atonement by Ian McEwan (2003)

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich (2021)

The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams (2021)

The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien (1954)

The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien (1954)

The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien (1955)

Babel by R.F. Kuang (2022)

Moonflower Murders by Anthony Horowitz (2020)

The Word is Murder by Anthony Horowitz (2018)

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce (2013)

Poetry

Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong (2022)

Blue Iris: Poems and Essays by Mary Oliver (2006)

Work

The Hidden Inequities of Labor-Based Contract Grading by Ellen Carillo (2021)

Queer Silence: On Disability and Rhetorical Absence by J. Logan Smilges (2022)

Our Body of Work ed. by Melissa Nicolas and Anna Sicari (2022)

Teachers as Cultural Workers by Paulo Freire (2005)

Living a Feminist Life by Sara Ahmed (2017)

The Cultural Politics of Emotion by Sara Ahmed (2004)

The Vulnerable Observer by Ruth Behar (1997)

Getting Lost by Patti Lather (2007)

Race, Rhetoric, and Research Methods by Alexandria Lockett, Iris D. Ruiz , James Chase Sanchez, and Christopher Carter (2021)

Opening Spaces by Patricia Sullivan and James Porter (1997)

Decolonizing Methodologies by Linda Tuhiwai Smith (2021)

Counterstory by Aja Y. Martinez (2020)

The Courage to Teach by Parker Palmer (2017)

We Make the Road by Walking by Paulo Freire and Myles Horton

Writing with Power by Peter Elbow (1998)

Writing without Teachers by Peter Elbow (1998)

The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop by Felicia Chavez (2021)

[schmem14]

10 books to get to know me! 

No one tagged me, but I want to do it, so there. Ha!

And Then There Were None- Agatha Christie GOLD. There are so many of hers I love, but this one takes the cake, best UHEA I have ever read, bar none. If you only read one Agatha Christie in your life, this is it. Consult me if you want more recs. 

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings- by Maya Angelou is such a richly told autobiography. Heartbreaking, beautiful, and captivating.

A Tale of Two Cities- Basically EVERYTHING by Charles Dickens is delectable, but nothing beats the scene of Sidney Carton going willingly to his doom. Do I love tragedy? I think I’m sensing a theme here. 

Flowers for Algernon- by Daniel Keyes CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY FOREVER. Seriously. This is a fucking masterpiece, told through the eyes of a mentally disabled man who gradually undergoes an experimental operation to increase his IQ.

Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine- by Gail Honeyman. What a beautiful, heartfelt story this was. Eleanor is endearing, wounded, and deeply troubled. I adored her transformation with my whole soul, and the discourse this opens about mental health and healing as a never-ending process. 

The Choice: Embrace the Possible by Edith Eger. Holocaust stories never fail to break me, and this was no exception. I cried through this whole book, raged against everything evil and horrid the holocaust represented, and made me resolve to absorb the sadness into myself as a lesson on how to heal. Many sleepless nights over this one. 

Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men- by Caroline Criado-Perez. This book angered me. I’m still angry about it. It was fucking brilliant, but I can’t stop seeing gender inequity in literally all aspects of life. The best part, it’s not an opinion piece. It’s all data delivered deadpan, and it’s shocking as hell. EVERYONE should read this. 

How to Be an Antiracist- Ibram X Kendi, this book is one of my favorites about fighting racism, though there are a lot out there. This is just the one I keep returning back to again, and again. 

Sourdough- by Robin Sloane. You may have heard of Mr. Penumbra’s 24 hour library, but THIS is the unsung hero in his published works. It’s a quirky love story about learning to enjoy life in all its flavor, turbulence, and catastrophe, in a world where everything is blah. Plus, I’m a sourdough baker, so I enjoyed the tall-tale aspects of sourdough starters in all their wild complexity. One of my favorite discoveries of all time. 

Jane Eyre- by Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre gets a bad rep for so many reasons, but damn, this woman is my hero, in so many ways. I love this unremarkable, tenacious character with my whole soul. (and don’t talk to me about Mr. Rochester. Yes, we know he hid a whole WIFE in the attic, but remember, Jane LEAVES him to wander in the moors until she’s almost dead from hunger, and doesn’t go back until it’s on her terms. This woman is Goals.)

I seriously wish I could do more, but I will not oversaturate ;) tagging @the-francakes, @wolfpants, @vukovich, @nanneramma, @sliebman10, @foxfoots, @lumosatnight, @nv-md, @peachpety, @vdoshu, @lqtraintracks, @crazybutgood if you want to participate! (AND SERIOUSLY, it was so fun to go down memory lane. Join in if you want, I can’t always remember which mutuals like doing these things. Tag me and I’ll check out your list, too!)

[marimeiastories]

Seven books about mental health

I want to share positive books, which talk about improvement and positive outcomes, hoping that these books can bring you comfort.

1. It’s Kind of a Funny story by Ned Vizzini

Craig is a 16-year-old teenager who struggles with depression and anxiety. Because of this, he decides to be admitted in the psychiatric ward of his neighbourhood, and there he meets people and lives situations which will make him think more positively about the future.

This is a hilarious book full of fun interchanges between the patients of the ward, but it also touches deep topics, like depression related effects and stories of people who are trying their best to get better, in a down to earth matter. It was made into movie, which I recommend too.

2. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman

Eleanor is a middle aged woman who is used to be alone and does not seek company, as she knows that the moment she will create meaningful connections it will be the moment in which she will get hurt. She frequently talks with her mum, altough the latter treats her coldly and constantly judges Eleanor’s actions and beliefs.

This is a novel about a person who numbed her emotions after going through trauma. It talks about post-traumatic stress disorder and the inheritance of creating meaningful connections despite the uneasiness felt in doing it.

3. Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig

A book in which the author writes abour his own approach to his suffering from depression and anxiety. Through his journey he gathered some reasons for which it is worth to live in spite of a mental health condition, and he writes them in this book to invite others to reflect and help them in their own journey.

4. Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert

Although in this book there’s no mental health condition specified, this is a real story of a person who mentally hit rock bottom after a divorce and picked herself up. The author opens up completely about days spent crying, her seeing no happy future for herself. Through a journey that will take her through three countries, she finds herself again. There is also a movie on this, but, in my opinion, it does not reflect the depth of the book.

5. The Choice by Edith Eger

This is my absolute favourite. Edith Eger is one of the survivors of the Holocaust, and she tells the story of how her childhood was stolen by being deported in a concentration camp. But the book does not stop here, and Edith goes on describing her recovery from the traumatic experience and her willingness to become useful to others in the treatment of post-traumatic stress disorder. She describes how she saw hell and from it she learnt how to use her pain to serve others by becoming a psychologist. She’s a great, inspirational woman.

TW: being the Holocaust the subject of this book, the story contains some crude scenes.

Have a look at Edith Eger website: 

6. The girl who dated herself by Susannah Shakespeare

This is a novel about a girl who learns to love herself after a breakup. After the separation, she realises she never loved herself the way she deserved and starts doing things alone, from going to the cinema to having a fancy dinner.

This is a book about self-love and how it is good and healthy to want to spend some time alone.

7. The curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time by Mark Haddon

This is a novel about a boy on the spectrum of autism and how he deals with it through seeing the world as a mathematical problem that needs to be solved. In the story, he finds himself involved in a mystery to solve, which starts with a dog found dead in the neighbour’s garden.

This book describes well the struggles of someone with autism and how their vision of the world is different, but this doesn’t mean worse.

Please let me know if you have any book recommendation for me, I'd love to hear your suggestions!

Marimeia :)

[quackburmanicgaysex]

being called a woman makes my skin crawl dont say thay shot to me eger fuckint again kay thanks you fuckingndickhead

[sweetrays]

do you like to read books? what is your favorite genre?

if you want name three books you like and tell why you like them

I do read on the occasion. I'd have to say my favourite book genre is historical.

Picking out a top three is kind of tricky though but I'll try

I'd say The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton is my #1 because it was great inspiration for the parts in my book series about youth gangs and poverty in America. Also it's just a really touching, yet sad story.

My #2 is Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate which I used for inspiration on my novel character Prissy Delphine. It's a tragic story about the Tennessee Children's Home Scandal. A really good read if you're into the more dark parts of history.

My #3 is probably The Choice by Edith Eger. It's a true story about a woman who went to Aushwitz and survived. She later moved to NYC and became a psychologist. The book has some great advice that has helped me at even the toughest points of my life so I really recommend.

[infernal-general]

War was all she had known. Born, raised, lived in one that simply seemed eternal. Instead of learning etiquette worthy of her rank, Countess, Rozália fenced, made bows and arrows, rode horses at alarming speed. She was educated regarding warfare and politics, no room for pretty flowers or embroidery. Her upringing laid in her roots: Véghváry; meaning 'from the border fortress'. Her family history stretched back to King Matthias' rule, many great, loyal, talented fighters, tacticians, leaders, advisors were born from this blood and served brilliantly to such levels it caught the eye of the King and the bloodline was granted noble ranks along with southern territories of Hungary.

With the Ottoman expansion, land had shrunk, the fighting spirit strengthened. Women also learned how to defend themselves and even the fort if it came to it. Despite being aristocracy, arranged marriages weren't practiced, even same sex couples tolerated. They were waging a war, how could've they prohibited who to love in this short life? Even if it was the handsome warrior or the daughter of the maid instead of a noble lady. They faced and conquered fear every day, with every breath, one should find safety instead of dread in family, no matter who they fell in love with. Regarding finances, it all went to repairs, salaries, ammunition, to the poorer families and serfs. They dressed as soldiers instead of aristocrats, only a few items they considered luxury to have.

Rozália was born in 1531 to an Italian aristocrat mother Lorella and Count Attila Véghváry, five years after the catastrophic Battle of Mohács. The damage was immeasurable and a permanent turning point of the country; the chain of southern forts protecting the border had fallen. The remaining had to relocate to northern strongholds to avoid a complete wipeout after two centuries of holding the opposing force back. Countess Rozália Bianka Véghváry grew up in a crumbling, tearing country with both parents determined to teach her all skills necessary to survive, perhaps even follow her father's footsteps as Lorella couldn't bear more children.

She was a fast, eager learner, wanting to reach the heights of the heroic tales she was told, to truly earn the weight of the looks she was regarded with. The heir. The only one and all eyes were watching. War was in her veins, to such prominence that she was the one to warn Attila they should prepare for a raid more effectively or relocate again entirely. She was only a child and scared, of course her concerns were brushed off, Attila knew better. Or so he thought until his daughter's prophecy manifested on a moonless night. Chaos, senseless bloodshed, women, children screaming until they couldn't anymore. Suffering heavy losses, Attila could barely escape with his daughter whom he had dragged away from an Ottoman corpse; her first kill. His wife laid lifeless among the debris, torture evident.

Nobody knew what the ten year old Rozália saw happen with her mom. The relationship with her father was fundamentally changed, she never forgave him for Lorella's death. For putting his pride first, for not listening to her. She grew bitter, resentful, only acknowledging him as if he was her superior instead of father. They relocated to Tiszagyöngye (Pearl of Tisza), a fort near Eger, right next to the unpredictable Tisza river. Rozália trained harder, pushed her limits till she almost collapsed from exhaustion, spent the remaining time sharpening her intellect, fully preparing to replace her father now when the occupants eventually reach Tiszagyöngye. She knew it was only a matter of time.

She was right, again. After the unsuccessful siege of Eger, they came for Tiszagyöngye in 1553. Although the damage was almost minimal at that time, a deep infected laceration claimed Attila Véghváry's life, making Rozália the captain of the fort at the age of 22. No longer a child, perhaps she was never one, the already battle hardened young woman took the title with almost voracious thirst, eager to be rid of her incompetent father and the spineless German mercenaries paid by him. So her reign began. Brilliant strategist, master of many weapons, excellent rider, fearless, courageous, inspiring, commanding and cunning. Her merciless slaughter of Turk raiders raised attention, yet no matter who or how many was sent in her way, they all were cut down with precision. Selim Pasha requested a duel on a nearby hill upon hearing the seemingly overexaggerated prowess of one woman. A woman! When he was greeted in his language with a twirl of twin sabers was when he started to realize what he had heard was not colored but rather watered down. They fought for hours tirelessly in the afternoon sun, so long that her soldiers decided to check. Upon the unexpected reinforcement Rozália declared the duel over, showing even though they were enemies, she fought with honor as well. Selim Pasha in that moment knew she had to die. Too much talent, ambition, bloodthirst, knowledge and fairness in one person; he respected her enough to acknowledge the danger the young Fort Captain embodied.

A brutal siege with overwhelming numbers followed the next year. Rozália knew it was lost the second she assessed the powers laid out, lost unless... She gave up Tiszagyöngye. Left the fatally wounded and the most valiant within the ruined walls. From a distance she watched the Ottoman army pour into her fortress and after a few minutes explode as the remaining ignited all gunpowder within the walls, flammable debris purposely left around the only entrance creating a hellish death trap. She watched flames reach sky high, cries of agony rising with it till it was silence and white smoke from the ruins. The rebuild started immediately, all of her remaining inheritance funding it with some assistance from neighboring fortresses and lesser nobility. The reconstruction was complete by 1558, the fortress christened to Főnixvár (Phoenixfort) after with the dragon protecting it.

Location:

Layout and bastion names:

Victorum (Conquest) points towards Eger

Bellum (War) bears the most of the damage, facing straight at the occupied territory, her usual resting/lookout place

Fames (Famine) and Mors (Death) are the closest to the Tisza river prone to floods

Providentia (Providence) points towards the remaining Kingdom of Hungary

Nowadays Countess Fort Captain Rozália Véghváry when not fighting an endless war is often seen among common people, encouraging, listening, helping with matters considered trivial to her rank and status. She often patrols the border or simply taking a small break from the monumental duties placed on her, riding a blood bay coated horse, Vihar, whose fur seems to burn infernal red in the sunlight.

Timeline:

Base interactions take place after 1561 when she's past 30

Born: 1531

Buda fell in 1541 (age 10)

Ottoman raid resulting in the death of her mother & forced to retreat to Tiszagyöngye: 1545 (age 14)

1545-1553: honing, perfecting her skills and learning new ones, preparing for her fate

First Siege of Tiszagyöngye, death of her father, becoming Fort Captain: 1553 (age 22)

Duel with Selim Pasha: 1554 (age 23)

Second Siege of Tiszagyöngye, ending with her burning the fort down with the army trapped inside: 1555 (age 24)

Rebuild of Főnixvár complete in 1558 (age 27)

Verse headcanon post

[travopo]

Fun Things to Do in Eger | Travel Guide (2023) | Best Tourist Places

[talesofloreandlegend]

Greysteel

SERIES · I  EPISODE · VIII

Host: Rick Scott Storyteller: Sebastian Odell

I heard tell of a venturous knight, who kept a hidden country, both day and night; and he that over that  river should ride, strange adventures should abide.

      As I heard told, the keeper of this realm is no man, and yet is the greatest knight in any land. They call him Sir Greysteel. They say no man of woman born can make him yield one man to one. His name will make any mortal tremble. For they say that more then a hundred knights have fallen to his blade...

The Greysteel ballad was performed before James V and James VI of Scotland, and there are numerous references to it in historical sources and literature. Our version of the tale of Greysteel is based upon a romance poem popular in 16th century Scotland. The story may have originated there, or earlier, in the north of England - the most recent research is said to favour a Scottish origin. The nickname of ‘Graysteil’ was given to various Scottish noblemen in the sixteenth, seventeenth and even the twentieth century. The story centres on the knightly friends Sir Eger and Sir Gryme. Sir Eger is defeated by the supernatural strength and might of Greysteel, the lord of a realm called the Forbidden Country, losing him the respect of the Lady Wynglaine, whom he is trying to win over. Sir Gryme rides in place of Sir Gryme, and overcomes him with the help of a magical sword bestowed by Eger’s aunt.  Greysteel’s initial invincibility, his description as a night with red hands and riding a red horse, suggests that he is intended to be an elfin knight. The motif of removing the supernatural Knight’s hand as proof of victory is repeated in other tales of Elfin knights.  Sir Eger and Sir Gryme may have been based upon the characters of Ywain and Gawaine from Arthurian romance legends.

In our telling, the 'Forbidden Country' becomes another name for the mysterious and a-temporal realms inhabited by the denizens of the fey, and identified with 'Avalon' and the 'Fortunate Isle'. However, some identify the site of Greysteel's land and fortress with Loch Ragnag in Scotland.

IN FOLK SONG

Elements of the Greysteel narrative are mirrored in the folk ballads Sir Cawline and Sir Colvin, where the protagonist must travel to an Elfin Hill, defeat an Elfin knight, and return with his hand in order to win the courtship of the King’s daughter.  Greysteel itself was performed as a romantic ballad, and was sung by two fiddlers to James IV at Lecropt in1498 who were 'paid 9 shillings for their performance’. The tune for Graysteil was preserved in transcriptions from the lute-music book of Robert Gordon of Straloch (1580-1661). You can hear the original medieval poem set to music on Spotify, but the delivery is not very clear.

SOURCE MATERIAL

Romance Sources 'Eger and Grime: an early English romance' Edited from Bishop Percy's folio MS., about 1650 A. D. by John W. Hales and Frederick J. Furnivall (Published 1897)

'The Story of Gray-Steel' on Elfinspell.com (Online Text of the following source)

'Early Metrical Tales: Including the History of Sir Egeir, Sir Gryme, and Sir Gray-Stiell' by David Liang (Published 1826)

'Early English Romances in Verse' by Edith Rickert (Published 1908)

​

Research Sources

'Eger and Gryme' on the  Database of Middle English Romance

"Greysteil." on Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 9 May. 2019. Web. 17 Sep. 2019.

​'The Epic Romance of Graystiel' on The National: The Newspaper that Supports An Independant Scotland​

​

[slowtides]

Reading List

I'm starting to put together my reading list for next year. This year, I have read 27 books so far and am hoping to get to 30. Next year, I'm planning to hold steady at 30 books. This is what I have so far, but I might add some or take some away depending on how I feel.

Nonfiction

This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. the Climate by Naomi Klein (2014)

Zami: A New Spelling of My Name by Audre Lorde (1982)

Teachers as Cultural Workers by Paulo Freire (2005)

The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (2007)

Blue Nights by Joan Didion (2011)

Let Me Tell You What I Mean by Joan Didion (2021)

A House of My Own: Stories from My Life by Sandra Cisneros (2015)

A Taste of Power: A Black Woman's Story by Elaine Brown (1992)

Some of Us Did Not Die by June Jordan (2002)

On Call: Political Essays by June Jordan (1998)

Living a Feminist Life by Sara Ahmed (2017)

The Cultural Politics of Emotion by Sara Ahmed (2004)

Upstream: Selected Essays by Mary Oliver (2016)

Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America by Firoozeh Dumas (2004)

The Choice: Embrace the Possible by Edith Eger (2017)

Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner (2021)

Queer Silence: On Disability and Rhetorical Absence by J. Logan Smilges (2022)

Ohitika Woman by Mary Brave Bird (1994)

Fiction

A Book of Common Prayer by Joan Didion (1977)

Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage by Haruki Murakami (2014)

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (2019)

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante (2012)

The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante (2013)

Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay by Elena Ferrante (2014)

The Story of the Lost Child by Elena Ferrante (2015)

The Bone People by Keri Hulme (1986)

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson (2006)

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (1811)

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814)

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (1817)

Atonement by Ian McEwan (2003)

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich (2021)

The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams (2021)

[arinewman7]

Wonder Woman Smoking by Diana Catherine Eger Drawing Digital, Ink, Marker, Pastel and Pencil on Aluminium