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Ok I’m writing a short little thing of Marsilio/Giovanni—they’re being dramatic about dumb things and are also going to be very reasonable about sex while in a field
I shall share when done 💕🪐💕🪐
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How many first cousins do you have? A first cousin is any offspring of your parents' siblings.
I have no first cousins
1 cousin
2-3 cousins
4-5 cousins
6-7 cousins
8-10 cousins
11-15 cousins
16-25 cousins
26-50 cousins
51+ cousins
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when a character is written inconsistently because nobody thought about it that hard and you're like it's time for me to get in there.. and think about it that hard
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Right now, Plato paces the room as Marsilio reads Timaeus. When someone borrows one of his people for a long duration, it feels as if a fibre of Marsilio’s soul has been severed and he must beg to have that person returned so he can restitch everything back together inside of himself. "The manner of his arrival home," Agnola wrote. Very mysterious, very strange. Tomasso left., she says, then he returned. Now he is ill. Marsilio turns a page as he turns this over. There is a matter here worthy of digging into, he is convinced. There is a matter here that might be quite grave. ‘I would have you pay attention to my words,’ Plato begs. ‘I think my sister has need of me rather urgently.’ ‘I would have you reread what you pretended to just read now,’ Plato insists. ‘Tomasso left,’ Marsilio says. ‘Then he returned. But there was something beneath left us that I wish to know.’ ‘I’m asking you kindly,’ Plato whispers. ‘I shall leave tomorrow. Either he is very ill indeed, and with something potentially rare or unknown, or there is something else wrong and she cannot write me directly about it. And mark me, my dear Plato, it must be very wrong indeed if Agnola is writing me about it.’
Marsilio talking to his books as if they're real people will always fill me with the greatest delight.
It's up there with the fact that he referred to his letters as his children and would become increasingly vexed if people kept his children from him for any length of time.
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also, some Pico:
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Out here causing drama and troubles.
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oh Ficino and his lack-lustre personal horoscope
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In my past life in Academia I helped on the DECIMA project, which is a cool mapping tool of 16th century Florence.
Anyway, I was revisiting it for Reasons and forgot the opening line to their data page:
Florentine governments of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were obsessive data collectors, even if they didn’t always know what to do with all the data they collected.
Notary: We have oodles of information.
Signoria: Great. We love this.
Notary: And I presume you all have a plan for this.
Signoria:
Notary:
Signoria:
Notary: I ... presume there is...a plan? for this?
anyway, I recommend people play around with it! It's a cool tool and lots of fun. There are thematic maps as well as the main map based on data from the 1551 and 1632 population census and the 1561 property census. 
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due to my love of all things Cavalcanti and Ficino related, I went on a search for Cavalcanti's home. And la, I found at least what currently exists as the former Cavalcanti estate.
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[...] as far back as the Middle Ages the Cavalcanti, a powerful Florentine Guelph family, owned numerous holdings in the locality of Murlo between the Pesa river and its tributary, the Virginio. The old feudal property was destroyed by the Ghibellines after their victory over the Guelphs at the Battle of Montaperti. What remained of the estate was divided up between various members of the Cavalcanti family, and Lorenzo Cavalcanti undertook the task of reconstruction and improvement, as well as buying back neighbouring land, as recorded in a survey from 1498.
I presume this is the same Lorenzo Cavalcanti who was near Lorenzo de' Medici during the Pazzi Conspiracy and helped to save him from the would-be assassins.
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The present structure, commissioned in the early 18th century by the Baldocci family, and was designed by the architect Bernardino Ciurini. Between 1723 and 1740 teams of artists decorated the structure, including the stucco artist, Giovan Martino Portogalli. Also employed were the Bolognese painters Anton Domenico and Giovan Filippo Giarré who executed the frescoed classical landscapes, vedute, in the salons on the ground and first floors. At the south west end, those parts of the villa dating from the 16th century were enlarged, incorporating the old 15th-century workers' house.
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The above is an aerial shot of the current villa. Now this isn't what Giovanni would have lived in, but it's a good view of the lands that belonged to the family. No wonder Ficino wrote to Giovanni one time saying something like "I understand why you've not returned to me Florence because where you are is so beautiful."
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Yeah, I think I could live here happily enough.
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I can see why Ficino was so happy to stay with Cavalcanti for extended durations of time. I'd happily write philosophy if I had some of the views presented from this vantage point.
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Now, I'm not sure if Giovanni had access to this specific land and whatever house/palazzo was on it during his lifetime given that the land had been divvied up between family members. But they all were in roughly the same area, so it gives a good idea of what he and Ficino would have been looking at while writing their Very Married We Have A Shared Email Account joint letters to people.
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Their letters really give off peak Married Couple vibes. It's because, at least by the time Marsilio dies in 1499, they've known each other for circa 35-40 years. Something like that. God(s) bless them.
This is undated, but I put it around 1479-82. It was probably written during one of the times Marsilio was staying with Giovanni while avoiding the Hashtag Complicated Relationship with Lorenzo. He really kept out of Florence for a goodly chunk of time after the Pazzi Conspiracy and lived for much of it at Cavalcanti's estate in Rignano. When he wasn't there he was down in Celle near Figline which is only a half a day to a day's ride from Cavalcanti's house.
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Another joint Giovanni and Marsilio letter! This one to Naldo Naldi, who was Marsilio’s oldest friend. Like since they were children. Of the four letters to Naldo in the volumes, two of them are written jointly.
The ending to this letter to Naldo is Hilarious. Just like “we’re not inspired to be long winded, ciao bella”. Which to an old friend is a fine ending because obviously Naldo knew Marsilio (and Gio) loved him.
Gio & Marsilio: we love you but the muses aren’t talking to use right now. Love & kisses etc
Naldo:
Naldo: you two were either horny and distracted or down a platonic rabbit hole and distracted or some combo of the above.
Naldo: it’s fine.
I’m including the notes to this one because of the astrology references.
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Another joint Giovanni and Marsilio letter! This one to Naldo Naldi, who was Marsilio’s oldest friend. Like since they were children. Of the four letters to Naldo in the volumes, two of them are written jointly.
The ending to this letter to Naldo is Hilarious. Just like “we’re not inspired to be long winded, ciao bella”. Which to an old friend is a fine ending because obviously Naldo knew Marsilio (and Gio) loved him.
Gio & Marsilio: we love you but the muses aren’t talking to use right now. Love & kisses etc
Naldo:
Naldo: you two were either horny and distracted or down a platonic rabbit hole and distracted or some combo of the above.
Naldo: it’s fine.
I’m including the notes to this one because of the astrology references.
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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Poirot - Agatha Christie, Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Arthur Hastings/Hercule Poirot, Eventually - Relationship Characters: Hercule Poirot, Arthur Hastings (Poirot), various OCs Additional Tags: PTSD, First World War, Ghosts, Slow Burn, some descriptions of battle, they're not too intense, very much Show! Hastings and Poirot, Ratings may change Summary:
Two years after the war, Arthur and his sister are invited up to Yorkshire to stay with an old friend of the family. Naturally, with anything mystery related, Poirot is never far behind. What awaits them are strange noises in the night, unexplainable events, and the secrets all families keep hidden away.
--
Obligatory Excerpt: 
Arthur wakes, a small hour, his room is shadows with the moon all creamy and low making ribbons of milk slice across his floor. Some landing where the broken mirror had scattered itself. No signs remain of that incident, though, except for the empty frame, which lords itself on the washstand, and his feet who smart from their brief war with the glassy floor.
Arthur stares at the canopy hoping to bore himself to sleep and is convinced he is half arrived at his destination of slumber when a flutter of mothwings interrupts.  
Barney is in the room.
Barney’s torso is in the room.
When Barney shifts in and out of sight, flutter-flutter. Many wings exhaling against fabric. The small, blind moths that eat forgotten wedding dresses in attic trunks. It sounds as if they’re speaking: ohgodnoohgodno.
Barney had scream-moaned oh God no before he died and Arthur, when there was a moment of reprieve to collect the dead from no-man’s land said-wept Oh God no when he found Barney’s body.
Does that sound ever stop?
Arthur’s crossed water and time but still ohGodno ohGodno ohGodno shatters his head.
Sleepless, Arthur stares at the ghost of Barney’s torso until sunrise.
/
The mirror incident is written off through a myriad of vague, neither here nor there excuses. All, to Arthur, seem to be saying: we suspect you somehow did it, but as you’re the poor mad soldier, we’re not going to look you in the eye and be honest about it.
Or, that’s how Arthur feels though Charlie says he’s being unkind. Not to mention a little sensitive. Only, she doesn’t say that. Not exactly. She just says, ‘I’m sure that’s not the case at all, Arthur. No one blames you and no one thinks that of you. Poor soldier indeed.’
‘Poor mad soldier,’ Arthur corrects. ‘You’re forgetting the important bit.’
Oh my god what is this?? An update??? 
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as always define the question however youd like and take your best guess
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[Image ID: The poem “One Source of Bad Information”, by Robert Bly.  There’s a boy in you about three years old who hasn’t learned a thing for thirty Thousand Years. Sometime it’s a girl.  The child had to make up its mind How to save you from death. He said things like:  “Stay home. Avoid elevators. Eat only elk.”  You live with this child, but you don’t know it.  You’re in the office, yes, but live with this boy  At night. He’s uninformed, but he does want To save your life. And he has. Because of this boy  You survived a lot. He’s got six big ideas.  Five don’t work. Right now he’s repeating them to you. 
/end id]
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I will make a longer post about this later but I got access to the library's vault and asked if they had any rare Arthuriana and I am Indiana freaking Jones right now and I have this in my hands
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I am happy, ancestors, that I sought out the same stories of King Arthur that you thought worth recording in Yiddish. I am honored that I hold this volume from the 16th century that you printed in my hands.
I am sorry and ashamed that I cannot read it.
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Apparently there's going to be a Law & Order: Toronto, and I really desperately need them to make the world's most niche joke and have a detective from Chicago who came to Toronto on the trail of the killers of his father, who stayed - for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture - because In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories.
This is a post that will make sense to . . . I think actually literally nobody on my feed, but is nonetheless really entertaining. I promise.
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