This Is Fred, The Dot.

Sam Gamgee (Wern Mak) & Rosie Cotton (Ruby Clark) 💖

📸 Daniel Boud

Agents of B.A.R.B.I.E. -> Skye (a.k.a. Daisy Johnson)

This Barbie is an Inhuman!

it's funny how often, in the queen's thief books, the sad and shocking twist is that the love was there all along. there's the big obvious one, of course, but it comes up again and again: Dite with his hopeless crush, Sejanus with his mocking cruelties, Relius with his abject devotion and Teleus with his stalwart loyalty, Attolia's ladies closing ranks around her, Sophos telling all his tale and bashfully leaving out how often and how wistfully he thought of Eddis. in other cases it grows silently and catches our narrator by surprise: Costis down the well, Pol on the cliffside.

and it doesn't save everyone. love is not always a gentle thing, and it's not always enough. the minister of war nearly strangled his son to death. Sejanus committed treason. Eddis went to war. but it's always there, unobtrusive as a shadow, pervasive as the sunlight.

I think sometimes of a quote from mwt saying she front-loads the trauma: the worst thing that is going to happen to the characters, emotionally, generally happens in the first few chapters. their world ends, their life shatters, they lose everything, they are alone and afraid with no allies and no hope. and then we rebuild. over the course of slow, painstaking pages, they regain their footing in the world, carve out a new self, discover a new perspective and a new strength. further ills befall, of course, and at the great climax everything seems bleak and dire once again, but it's still not the worst thing to happen to them. they face the dire moment bravely, afraid but not alone, certain now in who they are and how they will face the end if it comes.

I'm still mulling this over, I don't have a tidy knot to tie between these points, but they feel connected. something about the compassion woven through these stories, both for the characters and for the readers. something about how they're tales of intrigue and adventure, yes, but they're also stories about building something good, and about seeing the best in people even when their worst is horrific, and about love as an act of courage in a cruel world. love as an act of faith. love as the last thing left that might be able to save you.

*flirtatiously* die horribly in this time loop often?

Soresu Negotiations

“Get help,” Palpatine said. “You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at the Chancellor. “...yes?” he said. “But he’s also something else – something I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“What?” Palpatine asked.

“A politician,” Obi-Wan replied, turning back to Dooku.

Anakin groaned, then sat down.

“Here we go,” he said.

Palpatine blinked, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan.

“...what do you mean, Anakin?” he asked.

“This happens sometimes,” Anakin replied. “How do you think he got his nickname?”

“Count,” Obi-Wan said, at about the same time. “It’s occurred to me that I never actually found out what the Confederacy wants.”

“Isn’t it a little late for this?” Dooku asked. “We have been at war for several years.”

“True,” Obi-Wan conceded, readily. “The war having started on Geonosis, because of tracing back your clone army which we… appear to have appropriated, mostly because you did it in our name. But that’s how the war started – not your objectives.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“I assume some semblance of a point will be emerging,” he said, eventually. “If you could be so kind as to provide it?”

“Wars begin for all sorts of reasons,” Obi-Wan replied. “But how they end… they end because a mutual settlement has been reached. And it’s occurred to me that I don’t know what you’d want out of a victory.”

He spread his hand, the one not holding the – unlit – saber. “It’s not the conquest of the Republic, I can tell that much. If the CIS annexed the Republic, what you’d have would still be the Republic, just under a different name… it’s not the Republic without the corruption that’s been causing it problems, because most of the corruption in the Republic was – was – the big industrial concerns like the Techno Union, Commerce Guild, Trade Federation. But you seem to have taken all of those off our hands, and they provide essentially your entire military so I don’t think anyone else could honestly believe that either.”

“I wouldn’t expect a Jedi to understand,” Dooku replied. “The Confederacy’s member systems have concerns relating to over-centralization.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment.

“...no they don’t,” he said.

“I hardly think you can have earned your reputation as a negotiator, Kenobi, if you are so willing to be insulting,” Dooku said, archly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan replied. “I mean… yes, now the Republic has an army, though really it’s actually the Jedi’s army and we’re simply letting them borrow it, but four years ago the Galactic Republic was proverbially incapable of doing anything. It took emergency powers for the Chancellor to get the Republic to authorize having any kind of military whatsoever – and the only one available was the one you ordered. That’s not over-centralization.”

He drummed his fingers on his ‘saber. “And I note that I overheard Nute Gunray insisting on the head of Senator Amidala – literally, in those words – as his price for signing a treaty. But I still haven’t heard an actual answer. What does the Galaxy look like if the Confederacy wins?”

Dooku frowned, and after about three seconds Obi-Wan glanced at the Chancellor.

“Didn’t you discuss this at any point, your excellency?” he asked. “Count Dooku doesn’t seem to have thought about this.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t you be fighting him?”

“It’s called diplomacy, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied, before returning his attention to Dooku. “Grandmaster, are you seriously telling me that you never thought about what you would do if you won?”

Anakin checked his comlink, for the time, then the ship trembled slightly.

“Artoo?” he asked. “Can you tell those ships outside to stop shooting at us and give us a wide berth? This could take hours and I don’t want to find out if my name’s literal.”

“Hours?” Palpatine repeated.

“He’s rolling,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I say, I’m used to this.”

He rummaged in a pocket of his robes, taking out a miniature toolkit, and began disassembling his lightsaber. “I’m pretty sure I can retune these crystals to give two stable configurations which it’ll snap between, that should give me a length toggle instead of a single adjustable length…”

“Are you taking your lightsaber apart?” Palpatine hissed. “What if you need to fight?”

“It’s okay, Chancellor, I’ll get about five minutes’ warning if the negotiations are going downhill,” Anakin replied. “That should be time to put it back together again…”

Palpatine looked up to Obi-Wan, who – sure enough – was still going.

“...of course, a separate but related issue is what it’s going to be like afterwards,” Obi-Wan said. “In principle the Republic and the Jedi Order could probably accept the existence of Sith so long as we actually knew who they were and they weren’t trying to destroy us. It’s the fact that the first Sith we met in a thousand years tried to run Anakin over and cut Qui-Gon’s head off as an opening move that’s soured us towards them a bit… but are you really going to be content as someone whose whole job is to die for Sidious?”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan, baffled, then glanced at Palpatine and Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“Sidious is your Master, we know that much,” Obi-Wan replied. “Partly because you told me yourself. But has he ever put himself in danger? Or has it all been you dealing with Jedi like myself and my apprentice? Putting yourself out there, in danger, while you do exactly what he says?”

He smiled slightly. “A Jedi would accept that, but you’re a Sith – you’ve said so yourself. Sith are self-interested. What do you think your new master is getting out of the situation? Because if you don’t know, it’s got to be something and it’s probably something he doesn’t want to tell you.”

“My master is quite willing to put himself in danger,” Dooku said, then clamped his lips shut at a frantic mouthed shut up from Palpatine.

“Real or feigned?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you think he wouldn’t manipulate you? He’s been doing it to everyone else – you’ve said it.”

Dooku’s brow furrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” Obi-Wan said, turning to look at Palpatine. “Chancellor, what about this as a starting point? Your emergency powers were granted to resolve the crisis, and I’m sure you want to abandon them as soon as possible… so why not take away the whole reason why the individual systems in the Confederacy had problems with the Republic to begin with? Freely allow the departure of any system which wishes to do so, under the emergency powers legislation; enact a progressive tax, one which hits the Core worlds harder owing to their greater ability to pay, to sustain a carrier based navy able to hunt pirates more effectively than conduct occupations or orbital bombardment, and have the navy established on a sector-federal two-level model?”

Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan for at least ten seconds.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he said, yet again.

“Oh, shut up,” Dooku replied. “You’re a Sith Lord and I don’t see you doing anything constructive.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Palpatine.

“...you know,” he began. “I’m quite sure you’d need to note that on your financial disclosure forms, your Excellency.”

He turned sideways, so he could see both Dooku and Palpatine at the same time. “What was the point of this whole abduction, anyway?”

“As it happens, I was supposed to kill you,” Dooku said. “It’s the only way to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, if you’re out of the way.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked. “Is something up? I’ve almost got the crystals realigned.”

“This plan looked a lot better this morning,” Palpatine muttered.

People all throughout history have seen the same sun. They had red dawn light and warm noons and sunsets reflecting off puffy clouds. History wasn't just illustrated in books; it felt the sun.

ao3 comments will be like “i like this line of your fic” and my reply will be like “fantastic thank you here’s my entire thought process about how i ended up with that particular line and also an outline for another fic i have and fifteen resources i used to research 1980s politics” and nobody asked for that chill

“Public libraries are such important, lovely places!” Yes but do you GO there. Do you STUDY there. Do you meet friends and get coffee there. Do you borrow the FREE, ZERO SUBSCRIPTION, ZERO TRACKING books, audiobooks, ebooks, and films. Have you checked out their events and schemes. Do you sign up for the low cost courses in ASL or knitting or programming or writing your CV that they probably run. Do you know they probably have myriad of schemes to help low income families. Do you hire their low cost rooms if you need them. Have you joined their social groups. Do you use the FREE COMPUTERS. Do you even know what your library is trying to offer you. Listen, the library shouldn’t just exist for you as a nice idea. That’s why more libraries shut every year

She is young; some would say very young. But the light in her eyes is mother-light all the same, purified and holy through exhaustion and pain. She forgets the pain for the joy of a man-child brought into the world, and her gaze rests on him, lying there in the straw.

He is an ordinary child with the ordinary, transcendent beauty of a newborn. The man who is not his father washed the blood from him, hands trembling and so, so careful. This Son of God is a helpless baby, but he is still God's Son.

No words can express the wonder of a birth, of nigh unendurable pain that bursts suddenly into eternal joy. The child is crying with the thin, short bursts of a one so newly born; he is healthy, flushed and swaddled well in the new cloths brought for the purpose. There is a mess nearby, but it is unimportant.

There is a commotion; shepherds, gentled by reverence, speaking in hushed tones of angels singing their praises, of a newborn king. They drop to their knees before the baby, as if no wonder in the world had ever been so mighty. And perhaps it had not.

Mary watches, and she stores up all these things in her heart. There is so much she cannot understand. Someday the whole tapestry of her son's life will be shown to her; for now, this is enough.

She gathers her boy to her, and wonders if she, too, can hear the angel's song.