#republic day essay

[blackswaneuroparedux]

“France is in the throes of violent birth”: Thomas Jefferson and the 1789 French Revolution

"The deputies retired, the people rushed against the place, and almost in an instant were in possession of a fortification, defended by 100 men, of infinite strength..."

• Ambassador Thomas Jefferson report on the events on 14 July 1789.

The excerpt shown here is from a letter in Jefferson’s own hand to Secretary of Foreign Affairs John Jay. In great depth, he describes the events of July 14, 1789, including the storming of the Bastille in Paris. The Bastille was a symbol of the old regime, and housed arms, gunpowder, and prisoners.

On 14 July 1789, the U.S. Ambassador to France, Thomas Jefferson, was a witness to the events of  a day in Paris that is commonly associated with the beginning of the French Revolution. Jefferson recorded the events of the day in a lengthy and detailed letter to John Jay, then Secretary of Foreign Affairs.

The American Revolutionary War began as a conflict between the colonies and England. In time, what began as a civil disturbance turned into a world war drawing France, Spain, and the Netherlands into the hostilities. France would send troops, ships, and treasure to support the American effort.   During the war, one of the first priorities of the French government and its allies was to raise funds to fight the war.

When the Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, France was virtually broke and on the edge of social catastrophe, the result of decades of war with England and other countries. The poor suffered hunger and privation. By 1789, revolution would come to France.

In 1785, Thomas Jefferson arrived in Paris to replace Benjamin Franklin, who was retiring as ambassador to France. At the age of 81, Franklin returned to the United States where he would serve as President of the Pennsylvania Assembly and also participated in the Constitutional  Convention of 1787.

John Adams was reassigned to London where he would be the first American ambassador to the Court of St. James. Jefferson remained on duty in France until late 1789 when he returned to the United States. While in France, Jefferson reported on developments at the court of King Louis XVI, the country at large, and the rest of Europe.

Jefferson was sympathetic to the revolution, opening his home in Paris to its leaders and assisting his friend the Marquis de Lafayette with drafting the Declaration of the Rights of Man. As the first Secretary of State under the Constitution and George Washington, his support for France and the revolution continued.

His friendship to the Marquis de Lafayette, who served in the War of Independence and lived almost 10 years in the USA, became very important in the beginning of the French revolution. The Marquis was the General of the french forces 1789 and tried to prevent a civil war and turmoil. He corresponded with Jefferson, who came from a country with the same experiences. Jefferson and the Marquis agreed that France was not mature to become a republic but a constitutional monarchy, like in Great Britain. However, this was the decision of the national assembly, of which the Marquise was a member. Jefferson went daily to Versailles to inform himself about the decisions. During Jefferson’ s visits, they passed the following laws:

1. Freedom of the person by habeas corpus 2. Freedom of conscience 3. Freedom of the press 4. Trial by jury 5. A representative legislature 6. Annual meetings 7. The origination of laws

This totally fit to Jefferson’s principles. In addition, there was passed a bill, which was prepared by Lafayette and Jefferson and which abolish any title or rank to make all men equal.

Thomas Jefferson also helped his friend Lafayette to bring the different opinions in his party about the constitution to an agreement. France should become a constitutional monarchy.

However, after this, Jefferson recognised that he is not allowed to interfere in the French domestic affairs and that he should be neutral and represent his country. He left France in the thinking that the Revolution was over and that France would grow to a constitutional monarchy. Jefferson was proud of the achievements in France and after his return to USA he declared: “ So ask the travelled inhabitant of any nation, In what country on earth would you rather live? - Certainly, in my own where are all my friends, my relations, and the earliest and sweetest affections and recollections of my life. Which would be your second choice? France."

For all his francophile fervour, as the chief American diplomatic representative, Jefferson’s Enlightenment had been a conventionally English one, dominated above all by John Locke. And Jefferson’s first impressions of America’s principal ally in the Revolution were not positive ones. “The nation,” he confided to Abigail Adams in 1787, “is incapable of any serious effort but under the word of command.”

The stars of the French Enlightenment - Voltaire, Diderot, d’Holbach - were frivolous and useful only for manufacturing “puns and bon mots; and I pronounce that a good punster would disarm the whole nation were they ever so seriously disposed to revolt.”

The events of the spring of 1789 soon changed all of that before Jefferson’s very eyes. “The National Assembly,” he excitedly wrote to Tom Paine, “having shewn thro’ every stage of these transactions a coolness, wisdom, and resolution to set fire to the four corners of the kingdom and to perish with it themselves rather to relinquish an iota from their plan of a total change of government” had excited Jefferson’s imagination as nothing before.

Even when the Paris mob seized the Bastille and beheaded the hapless officers of the Bastille, Jefferson shrugged it aside as a mere incident, since “the decapitations” had accelerated the king’s surrender. As Jefferson would write later, “in the struggle which was necessary, many guilty persons fell without the forms of trial, and with them some innocent.” But rather than seeing the French Revolution fail, “I would have seen half the earth desolated. Were there but an Adam and an Eve left in every country and left free, it would be better than as it now is.”

Jefferson’s admiration for the French Revolution seemed to increase in direct proportion to his distance from it. And once he returned to America at the end of 1789, one of his chief motives for taking the post of Secretary of State was to observe and encourage the French eruption, when the National Assembly seized and redistributed the lands of the Catholic Church, when the king foolishly attempted to flee France, only to be captured, placed on trial and executed.

And when a Committee of Public Safety began a national purge - the “reign of terror” - Jefferson continued to describe the French Revolution as part of “the holy cause of freedom,” and sniffed that “the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.”

There is no question that Jefferson’s influence in the beginning of the French Revolution was very important. His initial moderate counsels and ideas helped in the beginning to prevent a civil war. His opinion that France was not mature to become a republic is probably right, because after 600 years of monarchy and aristocracy they people were not used to have any rights or take part in political matters. Jefferson thought that a republic had to develop from a constitutional monarchy. When you look to the cruel end of the French Revolution, Jefferson’s assessment was right up to a point.

Jefferson’s time as Secretary of State coincided with the most explosive phase of the French Revolution. What started as an attempt to dismantle the Ancien Régime and institute a constitutional monarchy blossomed into a radical experiment in creating an entirely new republican society. As his correspondence with Minister to France Gouverneur Morris and Minister to the Netherlands William Short during the emergence of the Jacobin Terror reveals, Jefferson responded to the violent radicalisation of the Revolution with enthusiastic support.

His advocacy for the French Revolution did not signify his emergence as a disruptive insurrectionist in favour of purposeless violence, anarchy and unbridled populism. Instead, he advocated for recognition and support of the Jacobin government as a successful international analog to the republican project he wanted to pursue at home at the expense of the “monarchical” aspirations of Hamilton and the Federalists. 

In practice, the parallels he imagined between the ideal Jeffersonian and Jacobin republics were usually more apparent than real, as Jefferson often ignored the reports of Morris and Short in favour of fanciful idealising of his French counterparts – a problem Jefferson would only come to grips with in retirement.

Despite these dilemmas, Jefferson’s impassioned advocacy for the French Revolution proved effective, emerging as a cornerstone of the burgeoning Republican Party’s foreign policy and remaining important well into the early nineteenth century, until the Revolution ceased to be an important political issue. It was not until he became President in 1801 that Jefferson’s views toward France began to cool and became more pragmatic, highlighted by the Louisiana Purchase Treaty.

[edunnati]

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[1234ahtesham]

[rahul7840]

Republic day is celebrated on the 26th of January every time. On this day Indian laws came into power. Each year a parade is held at Rajpath. Functions get held at schools.

[shortsclubvideos]

ESSAY WRITING ON REPUBLIC DAY || 26 JANUARY ESSAY IN ENGLISH.

[probablyasocialecologist]

In place of blanks on the map, we’re now able to see highly cultivated landscapes with massive infrastructure stretching back to the early centuries BCE. Road networks, terraces, ceremonial earthworks, planned residential neighbourhoods, and regional settlement systems ordered into patterns of geometrical precision can be traced across Amazonia, from Brazil to Bolivia, as far as the eastern foothills of the Andes. In certain parts of Amazonia, the forest itself turns out to be a product of past human interaction with the soil. Over time, this generated the rich ‘anthropogenic’ earths called terra preta de índio (‘black earth of the Indians’), with levels of fertility far in excess of ordinary tropical soils. Scientists now believe that between 10,000 and 20,000 large-scale sites remain to be discovered across Amazonia. Similarly startling finds are emerging from Southeast Asia, and we might reasonably expect them from the forested parts of the African continent too. Of course, the same procedures are changing our picture of tropical landscapes that did witness the rise and fall of great kingdoms, and even empires. Archaeologists now believe that in the year 500 CE, between 10 and 15 million people lived in the Maya lowlands of Yucatán and northern Guatemala. For comparison, the Atlas offers a figure of just 2 million for all of Mexico in the same era, including the Indigenous cities of the Altiplano (at least some of which, we now know, were organised not as empires or even kingdoms, but fiercely autonomous republics, long before the Spanish conquest). It is easy, encouraged by works such as the Atlas, to imagine ancient history as a chequerboard of kingdoms and empires. But it is also very misleading. Ancient polities in the Maya lowlands and Southeast Asia had porous boundaries, constantly shifting, and open to contestation. Authority waned with distance from the centre. Warfare and tribute were largely seasonal affairs, after which coercive power shrank back behind the walls of the capital. As the archaeologist Monica Smith points out, only the most naive historian would assume that the claims inscribed on imperial monuments are a simple reflection of political reality on the ground. Of course ancient rulers loved to present themselves as ‘sovereigns of the four quarters’, ‘masters of the known world’, and so on. Yet no ancient world emperor could even have imagined powers of surveillance, such as those now enjoyed by any minor dictator or oligarch. On a global scale, we are witnessing a revolution in our understanding of ancient demography. To ignore it, these days, is to indulge in a cruel sort of intellectual prank, by which the genocide of Indigenous populations – a direct consequence of the planetary revolt against freedom, in the past 500 years – is naturalised as a perennial absence of people. Nor can we just assume that if we want to understand the prospects for our modern world, the only ‘big’ stories worth telling are those of empire.

5 July 2024

[giantkillerjack]

Exactly! 😁 Neither did I, and I'm guessing this is the case for most viewers! [autistic film theory infodump in 3... 2... 1...]

I think this was by design!

The joke only actually works as a joke on a second viewing at the very least, because if we haven't seen the whole film yet, then we aren't on the lookout for all the little ways this movie is winking and nodding at us throughout!

On the first watch, we are meant to assume that Miles designed the boxes. And so him saying that the boxes must have been reset also functions as a confirmation to the audience that the boxes even can be reset.

It is until later that we realize miles is basically always making confident statements based on next-to no meaningful knowledge of the things he's taking credit for!

So this moment goes from a clever misdirect on a first viewing to a clever confirmation of how shallow miles is in future viewings! Miles probably never even saw those boxes; he doesn't know if they can be reset! He is an empty fool cosplaying as a master of puzzles!

But since it has yet to be revealed that all of his statements are empty, YOU were actually correct to look for meaning in them! As was I!

We were directed to reach the most logical conclusion, which is exactly the same mistake made by brilliant Detective Benoit Blanc! This helps keep us engaged with the story!

---

Another fun thing related to miles' bullshit being purposely obscured by the film was when Miles talks about the meaning of the Mona Lisa, he basically regurgitates the Wikipedia summary for the Mona Lisa as though it is some intelligent original art criticism he personally thought of (when really it is the same interpretation of the Mona Lisa we all learned in fucking grade school).

But what kills me is that I didn't even notice how obnoxious he was being in that moment (twice! I missed this the first two times I watched it!) because the film spends that entire monologue focused on Helen sharing her own secretive knowing look with the Mona Lisa, thus bringing us the audience closer to understanding what Miles is saying than he EVER will be. (What IS behind her smile? What DOES she see??)

And so! Also! In that moment, the movie is actually providing the fresh, clever take that Miles is pretending he is providing! Imagine! A fresh perspective on the Mona Lisa!! When was the last time THAT happened?!?!

I mean, I never gave a shit about the faded old thing til I saw this movie. I saw it in person at the Louvre. It is a small painting alone in a big crowded room. I went to see it because I had been told it had meaning and I was lucky enough to afford a trip to Europe in college. The personal meaning I took from it was "wow it is not worth being in a room this crowded when you could just look at a replaceable print."

And I'm obsessed with the way this film positions Janelle Monae as the new Mona Lisa: Irreplaceable, living, warm, priceless, real and true - and therefore infinitely more valuable.

I like how it makes that point in many ways, and that one of those ways is by using the very same bullshit that both the Mona Lisa and Helen (wake up boys new Mona Lisa just dropped) seem to see right through. And it's all hidden in plain sight! Which is probably the reason this movie is so eminently rewatchable!

One of the things I love about Glass Onion is the way that the camera and music work together to tell nonverbal jokes.

Like when Benoit basically has to hold Miles' hand to get him to the conclusion that someone reset the puzzle box Benoit lies about receiving:

Benoit asks if it's possible that someone reset the box, and Miles then declares that someone must have reset the box like it is this huge reveal - and the camera zooms out while the music subtly swells as though he really has figured out something smart, when actually he literally restated what Benoit just said.

[nowritingonthewall]

Hi! Can I ask for some random and domestic Poe HC? 🤧

Hello Nonnie, thank you so much for your request! I am sorry that my hcs always appear to escalate into mini-essays, I hope that you enjoy them anyway 🥰

!Content warning for allusions to past trauma (because it’s Poe) but it’s mostly fluffy!

Domestic headcanons with Poe (x gn!reader)

- If you were honest, you would never have expected Poe to actually settle down after the Battle of Exegol and the fall of the First Order. After all, he had been on the run since he had been 16 years old, his family a bunch of rebels, his home scattered across the stars. You had fully expected him to make his new job as a flying instructor his whole new life, filling every second with something exciting to do, always chasing the next thrill, never slowing down and let himself think for even a minute.

Instead, after helping the New Republic to get back on its feet, he had put most of his energy and devotion into making a home with you.

Even though he loves his job teaching students (and spending a lot of time in his x-wing while doing so), he always makes sure to finish on time so that he can spend as much of the remainder of the day with you as possible. It has become one of your daily little rituals for you to wait for him, sitting on your porch, two mugs of freshly brewed caf in your hands. It never stops warming your heart to see that gorgeous crinkly-eyed smile lighting up his face as soon as he sees you waiting for him. Giving you an adorable little wave, he always quickens his pace before pulling you into a long and heartfelt hug.

Watching the suns painting the sky with the most beautiful colours imaginable, you’ll sit snuggled up against each other, listening to each other's daily adventures.

It usually doesn’t take long before Poe’s head grows heavy against your shoulders. The first few times he tried to fight it and wouldn’t stop apologizing, no matter how often you tried to assure him that you didn’t mind at all. But soon these late afternoon or early evening naps become just another part of your daily routine.

Poe spent more than half his life making sure that everyone around him felt safe. Now, with the war becoming a more and more distant memory each day, it’s like his mind finally allows his body to catch up on all the rest that he has been denied during all those years – finally feeling safe in your arms.

And there really aren’t a lot of things that you enjoy more than holding your sleepy boy with his head resting in your lap, one hand intertwined with his, as the other one plays with his hair. You smile at every patch of grey that you find among his inky curls, more than grateful to be given the precious gift of being allowed to watch him grow old with you. It makes the warmest and fuzziest feelings bloom inside your heart to see his worry lines relax under the soft touch of your hand as you listen to his content mumbling and cutest little sighs.

- He still can’t sleep without you around, though. Whenever he is in dire need of a nap, and the weather has gone too cold to sit outside, even under a heap of cuddly blankets, he’ll sit down on the couch, look at you with the most irresistible baby ewok eyes and his softest smile and tap on his chest to ask for his favourite human blanket.

Sometimes he falls asleep within seconds as soon as you snuggle up to him. Sometimes he finds that it wasn’t sleep that he craved after all but simply the comforting presence of you right next to him, listening to the soothing rhythm of your breathing as you drift into peaceful slumber until his breath synchronizes with yours in perfect harmony. And sometimes your planned naps turn into Poe and you talking nonsense for hours, exchanging forehead kisses and nose rubs between giggles.

Poe used to think that the only way to escape the constantly reoccurring ringing in his ears was to drown it out with something even louder. Now he realizes that all he needs to find relief is the soft warmth of you lying on top of him, the shape of your bodies fitting together as perfectly as if they had been custom made for each other.

- And he allows himself to take his time with everything that he does. No more bone crushing hugs that aren’t allowed to last longer than a second and that he’d hoped would convey everything that he hadn’t time for to tell you in case he wouldn’t make it back from a mission. No more quick and chaste kisses to whatever body part they would land on before hurrying off into the next briefing or meeting.

Now he makes sure to pour all of his undying love for you into every single hug until you feel nothing but warm and safe and cared for. Every kiss of him shows you that you are the centre of his universe, from the very first kiss in the morning to the last kiss goodnight. They have become so much more tender and gentler, yet they never leave a single trace of doubt about his feelings for you.

Quick shared showers that used to be a practical necessity turn into long shared baths that last until the water turns cold. Sometimes when you aren’t ready to step out of your cocoon of warmth just yet, you wrap each other in fluffy towels and make yourself comfortable on the heating unit waiting until you’re dried off.

As you cuddle up to each other, enjoying the closeness, you find a new softness and gentleness to your relationship that you had never thought possible. You are no longer clinging to each other for dear life, always scared that you might lose each other the next minute, constantly feeling like loving on borrowed time.

And Poe takes his time rediscovering and getting to know you all over again. Gently scrubbing your back in the bath or giving you a long tension-relieving massage. Learning everything there is to know about how you take care of your hair, while committing every single detail about you to memory. Not because he fears that every time might be the very last chance to do so but because he decided to commit every single fibre of his heart and soul to loving you. Because he chooses you. Over and over again.

It takes a while for him to get comfortable letting you take care of him the same way that he takes care of you. Yet every time it is your turn to hold him in the bathtub, he finds it a little easier to relax against your chest, melting into your embrace a little deeper. With every soft kiss pressed to his temple, he manages to let go a little further. As he rests his cheek against yours, while your hands are slowly caressing over his arms, he has never felt more vulnerable and at the same time more safe and protected than during those moments.

That’s when the tears tend to flow.

Those are the days when you make sure to take extra good care of him. Letting him rest his head against your shoulder as you carefully pat his back with a towel, gently kissing his tears away before placing a soft kiss on every single one of his scars, putting pain relieving lotion on his arm and massaging his tense shoulder. Only a few months ago this kind of special treatment would have made him feel more than uncomfortable. Seeing his own needs through your loving eyes, he slowly begins to accept that it is okay to take them seriously. And as he curls up against your chest, he doesn’t only allow it but he knows that he can completely trust you to take care of him.

- Poe has always loved to dance. Nearly as much as he loves to cuddle with you. Sadly, the days of the Resistance hadn’t exactly given you a lot of opportunity to do so and reasons to break into celebratory dances had been all too rare. So now he takes any chance he gets to hug you from behind, snuggle up as close to you as possible, rest his head on your shoulder and his cheek against yours while swaying the both of you to some music coming from your holopad or to a secret rhythm that only the two of you seem to be able to feel.

You dance in the morning while waiting for the first few cups of caf to brew, while waiting for something yummy baking in the oven, when you’re trying to dust the shelves, or while doing the dishes.

Doing the dishes never becomes a boring task with Poe. If he doesn’t turn it into a dance, there are bound to be lather battles that more often than not turn into tickle fights. And they always end with him using the dish cloth to draw you in for a long and wobbly-knees-inducing kiss.

This is also where most of your more serious conversations take place. It’s always been easier for Poe to talk about difficult topics while his hands have something to do. So whenever you feel like there’s something on his mind that he has trouble talking about, you’ll ask him “dish discussion?”, to which he answers with a relieved smile.

And, of course, should the topic require some serious hugging action, you can always continue your discussion on the kitchen floor, which proves over and over again to be the best place to solve any problem imaginable. And in case one of you should be in need of an even more comforting atmosphere, your kitchen cabinet features an extra compartment containing all the components required to build a blanket fort. It’s a habit that goes back to the early days of you joining the Resistance. And afterwards your blanket fort of safety can easily be converted into a blanket fort of romantic dinners and cuddle sessions.

- The two of you share a little garden with Rey, who doesn’t live too far away from you (I am sorry, LEGO, I refuse to believe that the trio would ever split up!). At least it was a little garden in the beginning. It all started when Poe noticed how Rey’s eyes would start to sparkle whenever she came across anything lush and green. So he began to present her with a special plant from every place that he visited. Pretty soon even her house was too small to accommodate her (not so) little personal jungle, so you helped her turning her backyard into a little garden. Which just kept on expanding. Because it never stopped warming Poe’s heart to see the way Rey’s face shining brighter than the suns whenever he found a new exotic plant for her.

He helped her create her special place of happiness both in her mind and in the physical world and you two are the only ones apart from Finn she trusts to take care of it. Even if your and Poe’s gardening sessions sometimes turn into several rounds of mud wrestling or splashy water fights.

Poe’s first very own gardening project featured the planting of a row of koyo trees. They weren’t even supposed to be able to grow in this climate but Poe Dameron has never been one to let logic or reason stand in the way of matters close to his heart. After all, he had managed to nurse a force tree back to health without any jedi tricks. And maybe Rey’s and Finn’s way with the force helped a little, too. Though he will always tell everyone willing (or maybe not too willing) to listen that it was your loving care that made the trees grow and flourish and bloom in the end.

His proud little face when he was able to harvest the very first fruit is another one of your many precious and treasured memories. Of course he let you have the first bite, almost a little nervous about your reaction.

The original plan was to turn the fruits into juice and jelly and lots of cakes. Which was a good plan. And it probably would have worked if the koyo fruits hadn’t been so damn tasty that you ate most of them before they ever had a chance to land in a basket. And what better way to spend the last days of summer than sitting lazily in the cool shadow of a koyo tree, taking turns to lie in each others lap while feeding each other freshly picked koyo fruits?

- During the nights when neither of you is able to sleep, you’ll climb onto the roof of your house, which offers a snug little platform that provides the perfect secluded retreat to lie on your back and gaze at all the stars in the galaxy. A galaxy that’s finally at peace.

Poe’s gaze keeps wandering back to you, though, and every time it does, he can’t stop smiling. As soon as you notice, you’ll snuggle a little closer to cradle his head and place the softest little kiss on his forehead, making him smile even wider. Softly stroking your cheek, he returns the kiss. On your nose, on your temple, across your jaw line, all over both of your cheeks, and everywhere he can reach.

You finally dare to make plans for the future again. Talking about all the stars and systems and planets you would like to explore together. Without rush, without being constantly on your guard, actually being able to look forward to visiting them.

The important thing is that Poe is no longer driven by the uncontrollable need to chase every single one of them. Because he has his own little galaxy lying right here by his side.

[letteredlettered]

Hi Im sure you answered this already but i sadly cant find it: how did end up shipping or rather writing drarry fics?

I've actually been asked quite a few times why I ship H/D. I never answer, because it's complicated and long and I have an essay on the subject, so I'll answer the 'how' question without addressing the 'why'.

Once upon a time, the internet was becoming a thing that people used regularly. The news kept talking about how the youths of the day were "surfing the 'net" and this was going to be the new normal. As usual, I could not identify with the 'youths of the day,' even though I was one. What could possibly be of interest to me on the internet? Reading books was far better than talking to other people. Then one day in my senior year of high school it dawned on me that you could possibly talk to other people about books, something I had never done before, as I didn't know anyone but my parents and brothers who ever read for fun, and my parents and brothers did not like to read things like Jane Austen. What if there were people on the 'net who liked Jane Austen??? Seemed fake, but I gave it a try.

The first Jane Austen website I found was Republic of Pemberley, which hosted something they called "Bits of Ivory." Through the "Ramble" board on Republic of Pemberley, I found out that there were "Bits of Ivory" elsewhere. It was called fanfic and hosted on fanfic.net.

Almost all of it that I was introduced to was Harry Potter fic, as HP was the megafandom of the time, and my Sense and Sensibility friend was obsessed with Snape, mainly because of Alan Rickman. I was also obsessed with Snape, though I must say that even though I had been obsessed with Alan Rickman since 1995, I never did like his casting as Snape and still don't. Anyway, I ended up getting interested in Snape/Hermione fic, and continued to be interested on and off for over the next five years.

I should pause at this moment to say that I had been writing fanfic since the fourth grade. I didn't know it was called fic. I didn't know other people did it. It never occurred to me to share it. When I found "Bits of Ivory" it actually took me a while to process that the stories there were in a similar vein to the stories I had been writing all my life, stories based on fiction by other people. It was just so wild to me that anyone would share that stuff, as though other people would want to read the different endings that they came up with, the self-inserts and the cross-overs they came up with.

I should also take this moment to say that I didn't really have slash ships. I was aware that slash existed, and I thought it was great. Sirius/Remus was a background ship everywhere at the time, and even though I didn't really see it in canon and wasn't terribly interested in it, I thought it was a nice thing. And when I started getting into X-Men through Wolverine/Rogue, it seemed obvious to me that Professor X and Magneto had a past sexual relationship. I, in fact, had an original story that I'd started writing in eleventh grade that had similar tension between two male characters, and the idea that they were in love and unable to have sex about it explained so much. And I wrote more original stories in college that were gay.

I think my problem was that the canons I was consuming were quite straight, and while I wasn't obsessed with writing canon-compliant fics, I was (and still am, to some extent) obsessed with writing characters who were true to canon. At the time sexuality seemed some kind of immutable thing to me that was deeply a part of who a character was. Also, sex to me was very Other; it meant something really deep and serious about you that obliterated other things you were. For instance, I was frustrated with all the Frodo/Sam porn, because I felt it obliterated their beautiful friendship and made their relationship about sex and being gay rather than the deep pure bond of friendship. So I was maybe kind of homophobic and confused.

Then I fell in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and while that canon has a lot of heteronormativity, it not only has a character who thought she was straight who realizes she's gay, it also has vampires who have lived for centuries and who have broken every kind of social norm that exists. It seemed silly to me to assume that Spike or Angel were straight, which is how I began shipping Spike/Angel, which is how I got absolutely obsessed with slash. It was so liberating to write porn where the power dynamic wasn't influenced by centuries of patriarchy! It was so liberating to write porn where I didn't have to think about my own anatomy or gender or position in a sexual dynamic! It was so liberating to write porn with a bunch of dicks!

Having discovered slash, I turned back to ye olde faithful fandom, which had ten billion fics about everything. I'm not sure I even tried Sirius/Remus, because I was still so uninterested in it, but now I read all the Snape slash, the majority of which seemed to be Harry/Snape. The thing is, I don't ship Harry/Snape. It can be very hot! But while the porn is fine and some of the stories are fun, these are not two people that I want to live happily ever after. I just think that the power dynamic between them, the history they have, and the personalities they are do not make me want to imagine them as a couple with a happy marriage who occasionally have the friends over for games of Quidditch and Exploding Snap. And while I like queer complicated, angsty stories, I also like a happy ending in a semi-heteronormative sense, especially for Harry Potter, who really seems to want one. So, I started looking for other Harry Potter slash.

I knew that Harry/Draco was a juggernaut pairing, but I just hated Draco Malfoy so much. I honestly could not stand him. I used to go about saying that I hated him not only as a person (like, I also hated Snape as a person; he's a dick, and he's cruel to children! But he's a great character) but as a character. I just didn't like the function he played in the narrative. I like big, dramatic rivalries and evil vs good; meanwhile, Draco Malfoy is a little worm. So I kept thinking about reading HP slash, but resisting.

Then, one day, I was sleeping on the couch, and woke up suddenly with the idea that Draco Malfoy could be reformed. He could be sorry for all the shitty things he's done! He could be really apologetic! He could be really trying to make up for his past, and Harry could find this truly beautiful, and they could have sex about it!

Surprisingly, it was hard to find fic about this. For some reason, in most of the fic, it was Harry having to earn Malfoy's approval, instead of the other way around, which I found absolutely bonkers. But I eventually found Eclipse, by Mijan, which was just what I wanted. Then I was obsessed and was reading every Harry/Draco fic I could find.

Eventually, I even read the ones in which Harry was a cad and Draco Malfoy was a perfect snowflake who never did anything wrong. And then I started finding fics that really emphasized that Draco had a very different point of view of what happened, which showed that he really had no way to understand who Harry was, or what Harry had been through. In these fics, Harry had to do some work to understand Draco, which is what really sold me on the pairing. I still want fics in which Draco has to do a lot of heavy lifting to address his past and deal with the hurt he has caused and the violence of his previously genocidal outlook, but I love it when Harry, too, has to adjust. After saving the world and losing most people he loves and protecting the innocent and doing his exhausted little best to be honest and righteous and true, Harry Potter still has to do work, again, to overcome his past and find a peaceful life. And that's what made me start writing Harry/Draco, the end.

[fruitdaze]

hi friends! i have an announcement: i now have a substack! you can subscribe to DEAD LANGUAGES, & OTHER TRAGEDIES using the link below :')

things you can expect to read about from me there:

roman history, especially the late republic and early empire

latin literature and the translation of it

personal essays on solitude, grief, and day-to-day life

i really do not have a solid plan for what i’m doing with this newsletter, and also i don't yet have a set schedule for posting—but i am hoping to write at least one post a month. above all i’m just there to have fun, to get back into writing, and maybe to have a little emotional crisis that i can write about and share with strangers on the world wide web. if you learn something about a dead roman or find something that resonates with you along the way—even better! i’m glad to have you there.

[edunnati]

Article on Republic Day

Visit on our website: https://edunnati.blogspot.com/?m=1

Visit this video on YouTube: https://youtu.be/vhY_DCZlyE0

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Michael Rubin

Secretary of State Antony Blinken smells like desperation. After meeting with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu for more than two hours, Blinken said the current proposal to achieve a ceasefire in Gaza and win the release of Hamas-held hostages is "maybe the last" opportunity.

Blinken is wrong. The last opportunity to win a ceasefire and release Hamas captives came when he agreed to negotiate with a terrorist group whose covenant embraces genocide and whose ideology envisions Islamic rule with religious and sexual minorities condemned to second-class status if not slavery or death.

When diplomats fall back on process, too often they lose sight of the forest through the trees. The fact remains: Hamas invaded Israel on Oct. 7, 2023, during a ceasefire to which the terrorist group had agreed. Its members raped, slaughtered, and took civilians hostage. The return of those hostages should always have been the precondition to negotiations rather than the conclusion. If Palestinians in Gaza did not want to see their territories' collateral destruction, they could return hostages under their control or inform about their whereabouts. This is not farfetched considering that Hamas has kept hostages in supposedly civilian hospitals, in private homes, and even with U.N. employees.

To negotiate with Hamas over its blatant violation of humanitarian law not only empowers Hamas, but it permanently degrades international law.

Blinken's second mistake was his choice of mediator. A good rule of thumb: Never place strategic interests in a mediator ideologically committed to your destruction. Egyptians may be aloof and, as the tunnels under the Philadelphi Corridor show, double-dealing, but Qatar too often uses its vast wealth to promote the Muslim Brotherhood's ideology that at its core rejects all aspects of Western liberalism and democracy.

Blinken has also tried to include Turkey in any post-conflict order. This, too, is bizarre. Years of pandering to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan combined with the Turkish despot's similar Muslim Brotherhood-infused ideology makes Turkey far less a partner for peace than an undesignated sponsor of terrorism. To offer Erdogan influence over post-Hamas Gaza would be akin to putting white supremacist David Duke in charge of post-apartheid South Africa.

Blinken's third mistake is treating the Palestinian Authority as a moderate alternative to Hamas. Palestinian Chairman Mahmoud Abbas is now in the third decade of his four-year presidential term. As Blinken has restored funding to Abbas, Abbas has shown his true colors. Speaking in Turkey just the other day, Abbas declared, "America is the plague and the plague is America."

There is no substitute for moral clarity. Moral compromise, meanwhile, substitutes groveling for justice.

After Iran released its 52 American hostages on President Ronald Reagan's first day in office, former Deputy Secretary of State Warren Christopher published a collection of essays by Carter administration alumni crowing triumphant for their success. Their thesis? The persistence of diplomacy led Ayatollah Khomeini to release his prisoners. Peter Rodman, a former Kissinger aide, responded in an article that Christopher and crew got it backward: The Islamic Republic let its hostages go when the cost of their captivity grew too high to bear.

Rather than pressure Netanyahu and have aides, underlings, and surrogates slime a duly elected leader, Blinken should be introspective. Had Blinken at every opportunity not indulged Hamas's conceits or played into the agenda of the group's enablers such as Qatar and Turkey, the hostages today might be free and the Hamas-imposed war over. President Joe Biden's base might hand wring and indulge in an orgy of antisemitism, but the road to peace rests on bringing so much pain to bear on Hamas that it has no choice but to release its captives and end its reign of terrorism over Gaza's 2.5 million Palestinians.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Ancient Necklace from Georgia (South Caucasus), c. 100-200 CE: this necklace is almost 2,000 years old; it includes an amulet case with a ram's head carved in amethyst, a garnet-studded perfume vial, and a chain woven from gold

This necklace features two pendants:

The uppermost pendant is a hollow, puck-shaped medallion with a removable lid that opens from the front, allowing the pendant to be used as a container/locket (possibly for a textual amulet or similar item); the lid is decorated with an amethyst relief of a ram's head, along with a ring of alternating turquoise and garnet stones. Turquoise tiles can also be seen running along the outer edge of the amulet case, and a chain is attached to each side, with a second pendant hanging below.

The second pendant is a hollow, pear-shaped container used for storing perfume or incense. The body of this second vessel (and its cap) is decorated with a series of garnet "spikes."

Both pendants are made of gold, as is the primary chain, which is crafted from a series of gold strands that have been twisted into a thick wicker-work pattern.

The necklace was found in the ancient necropolis of Armaziskhevi (located near Mtskheta, Georgia) which is a site that was once used by members of the local aristocracy, including the provincial governors (Pitiakhsh) and high-ranking nobles (Eristavi) of Kartli/Iberia, in what is now the Republic of Georgia.

I know I've mentioned this in some of my previous posts, but just for reference, here is a map showing the location of modern-day Georgia:

Sources & More Info:

Georgian National Museum: Necklace with Medallion & Perfume Vial

Caucasus Travel Guide: Archive of Georgian Artifacts

Georgian National Museum: Archaeology of the Roman Period in Georgia (essay & catalog)

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

I have a request for your brain cleanse if you’re open to something a little more in the feels.

I’m currently moving houses but I’ve lived here for my entire life. 20 years of calling this place home and in a few days I’ll never be able to call it home again. Tonight is the last night I get to sleep in my bedroom. Long story short it’s been a very emotional few weeks.

I was wondering if you could write something with either echo or hunter or maybe all of the bad batch as a group comforting the reader as they process moving out of their house or the marauder? Or maybe as they say goodbye from something/someone from their childhood? Or whatever you come up with.

Your writing always brightens my day and I’m always excited when I see that you’ve updated and I look forward to seeing what you come up with. And if inspiration doesn’t strike you with this request or you don’t feel comfortable with it then please don’t strain yourself either. I’d be just as happy to see your favourite gifs of each of the batchers if you have some ;)

(Sorry for written an essay lol)

Oh, anon, I’m sending you so much love. I remember when I had to move out of my childhood home, too, and it broke my heart, so I was very much in the feels writing this. And please don't apologise for writing so much, it's lovely!

I added in a memory from my childhood home, and thank you for sharing some of yours with me so I could weave one in, too.

Hold on to the memories from that house, and don’t forget to make some incredible new ones in this next chapter of life <3

As One Door Closes

As the Empire’s grasp on the galaxy deepens, you have no choice but to move your parents to the safety of Pabu. While having them close once again is a blessing, it means closing the door on your childhood home one last time.

Pairing: All Batch x f!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: leaving behind childhood home, bittersweet, comforting, happy memories, supportive and soft Batch, fraternal polyandry (aka the boys are all with reader).

“That’s the last crate, cyare.” Echo’s voice is soft as he stands beside you in the entrance hall of your childhood home. Footsteps behind you let you know that the rest of your boys had stepped inside, too.

You had them all back now. Utilising the network Rex had built, you’d hit Mount Tantiss hard, rescuing Omega and Crosshair and finding Tech clinging to life in a bacta tank. Every other clone shipped off to Hemlock had been saved, too, and you’d all returned to Pabu. Things had been almost normal until you’d received a transmission from your parents.

The Empire was closing in on your home planet, and they no longer felt safe staying there. During the war, your father – a prominent businessman – had been vocal and proactive in supporting the Republic, and your parents feared retribution if the Empire took hold of the planet. Options had been limited, and, in the end, the only solution had been to move them to Pabu. Having them closer would be a blessing, especially as they’d taken a shine to your boys and Omega, but it meant saying goodbye to where you’d grown up.

Head tilting to the side, you caught sight of the marks etched onto one of the doorframes. “They stopped measuring when I was ten.” You murmured, moving your fingers across the ridges carved into the surface, each denoting your height over childhood.

The next few steps took you up the stairs, and your ascent was silent as you missed every creaky piece of flooring. The boys followed behind you, albeit not as quietly. You grasped the railing on the landing, glancing down to the ground floor. “When I was six, my father bought home some wooden toys he’d found at the market. I remember him lifting me up so I could drop them over the edge of the railing.” You recall wistfully. A small laugh slides from your lips as you glance towards the five men crowded around the top of the stairs, their attention focused on you. “They were toy soldiers with tiny parachutes. Father would put me down, and I’d race to the bottom of the stairs to catch them so they’d never be hurt.”

“That explains a lot.” Crosshair quipped, leaning against the newel post.

More laughter leaves you as your gaze moves back to the ground floor, the memories washing over you. “Over the years, I lost them, one by one. The last one went missing about six months before the war broke out. I guess the galaxy figured I was about to get the real deal and wouldn’t need the toy ones.” You can’t help but tease, enjoying the varying chuckles that filled the air.

You sighed, your gaze lingering on the staircase as if trying to imprint every detail in your memory. Turning, the door to your childhood bedroom loomed ahead, and you pushed it open gently, the soft squeak of hinges echoing in the quiet house. You’d never seen the room so empty before.

The walls were still the exact colour you’d picked out when you’d been sixteen – so mature for your age, confident on your path in life. Funny how a galactic war, a handful of men, and a young girl had led you down a different way.

Stepping further into the room, your gaze lingers on the inbuilt desk near the window, where you’d often spent hours daydreaming and studying. You trace your fingers along the edge, feeling the grooves worn by years of creative exploration.

“Any stories from this room, darling?” You turned to find Tech leaning against the door frame, his eyes fixed on you with a softness that warmed your heart.

Memories flooded back like a tidal wave. “Oh, plenty. This room saw the birth of my first attempts at poetry. Terrible stuff, really. I used to think I would be a famous poet or something.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “Do you have any of those poems saved?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Absolutely not. Some things are best left in the past.”

The room echoed with laughter, the sound bouncing off the now-bare walls. “I remember leaving the window open just a crack once to pry it open after sneaking out to attend a party. Got caught, of course. My mother nearly had a heart attack.”

Wrecker grinned. “Always been a troublemaker, huh?”

“Just a bit.” You admitted with a smirk. “But it was all in good fun. This room was my sanctuary.”

You moved to the inbuilt closet, fingers tapping against the door. “On my fourteenth birthday, my parents went out for the night so my friends and I could have a girls' night. But one of them decided to tell some of the guys at school, so there were quite a few of us.” You recalled. Head tipping towards your boys, the corners of your lips curved into a smile. “Ever heard of seven minutes in heaven?”

The room filled with a chorus of amused groans and smirks. “Oh, please tell me you didn’t play that.” Crosshair teased, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You leaned against the closet door, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “Guilty. Of course, my parents’ bedroom was off-limits, but the closet here seemed like a fine alternative. It wasn’t exactly seven minutes, and heaven was debatable, but it was a memorable birthday, to say the least.”

Echo raised an eyebrow. “And who, may I ask, was your lucky companion?”

You feigned innocence. “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

Wrecker scratched his head. “I don’t get it. What’s the point of being in a closet for seven minutes?”

Hunter chuckled, placing a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder. “It’s a game, big guy. You go into a dark closet with someone, and things happen.”

Wrecker’s eyes widened in realisation. “Oh! Got it.”

You shared another round of laughter at Wrecker’s sudden understanding, the camaraderie between you and your boys filling the room with warmth. As the mirth settled, you couldn’t help but feel a bittersweet twinge. This room held countless memories; now, it was time to say goodbye.

Slowly, Tech offered out his hand, encouraging you across the room. Though hard, you slowly stepped back to him, fingers interlacing. It was poignant that while you were leaving this room behind – this house – you were going with them. That this had been home until they’d come along.

With the others having returned downstairs, you pause at the door for a second, looking back at the room you’d grown up in, where so many of your firsts had happened – your first steps when this had been your nursery, your first words, your first kiss, and your first heartbreak. Where you’d laughed until your sides had hurt and sobbed when the weight of the galaxy had felt too much. Where you’d gazed out of the window at the stars and dreamed about the future. “Thank you.” You silently acknowledge the part this little room had played in raising you before you step out of it for the last time, letting Tech guide you back down the stairs.

You circled into the living room, the furniture gone, and the final crates of belongings safely stowed on the Marauder, ready for their next life on Pabu. Indents marked the floor, reminders of where the furniture had once stood for years, and the colour of the walls was far more faded than it once had been, though bright patches still remained where family photos had once hung.

“We watched so many holofilms in here. As a family, we used to stay up as late as possible when I didn’t have school to see how many we could marathon – I used to love the ones about the wizard who went to magic school. But I’d always fall asleep before we could finish them all.” The memory made you smile. “Whenever I had friends over, father would make a blanket fort for us so we could watch the latest holodrama, and mother would bake a Jogan fruit pie and hide packets of sour berry sweets down the side of the couch for us to find.”

“Bet everyone was desperate for an invite.” Hunter watched as you looked around the room, more curious now about what you’d been like as a child.

Glancing over your shoulder towards him, you gave a small laugh. “I wasn’t a popular kid, unfortunately.”

“With how lovely you are, darling, I find that hard to believe.” Tech countered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

Warmth seeps into your cheeks – regardless of how long you’d been with them, you’d never be able to gracefully accept their compliments. Hand sliding from Tech’s, your feet carry you to the large window at the back of the room, overlooking the garden. More memories come back – running across the grass with your parents during a game of tag, building snowmen when the weather turned bad, and, in your teens, learning how to shoot with your father’s old blaster.

Crosshair stands beside you, close enough that your shoulder brushes his arm, a steadfast presence even after everything he’d been through. Those hawkish eyes take in the shrubs and flowers your mother had spent years cultivating, and then they find the scorch marks on the fences. “Hm, your aim hasn’t improved.” He teases, a smirk tugging at his lips as he glances down at you. Although he couldn’t understand being sentimental about a place, he knew how important this was to you.

“Rude.” You mutter in response, though there’s no bite to your words as your gaze shifts to look up at him, hand reaching out to give his arm a gentle shove.

Your boys' rich cacophony of chuckles follows you into the kitchen, and for a moment, you’re grateful they’re here with you. Doing this on your own would’ve broken your heart.

You lean back against one of the kitchen counters to take in the whole room. “Mother used to sit me on the counter as a child so I could watch her bake.” You share, lifting a hand to point across the room. “If there’s one thing I won’t miss, it’s that nanowave stove. Makes the most obnoxious noise when the timer runs down.

“Think your mother will bake in her new kitchen?” Wrecker asks, already imagining all the delicious new food he’ll get to try. He was looking forward to branching out.

“Oh, I hope so. If there’s one thing I’ve missed over the last four years, it’s been her Roonan lemon cakes.” Your mouth waters at the thought. At the start of the war, you’d signed up as a liaison officer, and you hadn’t really had the time after that to return home. When shore leave had come around, you’d wanted to spend it with your boys.

A few weeks ago, after receiving your parents’ transmission, you returned here with them and Omega to talk through a plan. Your parents had fawned over the young girl, and the impressed look your mother had given you when she’d realised that you had all five men wrapped around your little finger would forever be seared into your mind. Ushering your parents onto the Marauder, you’d introduced them to Pabu, and they’d immediately fallen in love with the sunshiny island. Your childhood home had gone up for sale quickly after, and someone had snatched it up. The credits had paid for a gorgeous little villa on Pabu for them, and they’d invested the rest. 

One night, when you’d stopped by to see how they were getting on, you’d caught the tail end of one of your father’s calls, where he’d been discussing setting aside some credits in case Omega, or any other grandchildren, wanted to go to college in the future.

You’d cried like a baby at the sweetness of it once you’d made it home and told the boys. Children weren’t something you had thought about – too busy fighting a war and escaping the Empire – but they’d exchanged a few glances as you’d been drying your tears.

The last room you ventured into was the dining room. The large dining table had already been transported back to Pabu, but the marks from where it had been shoved against the wall still lingered. So many family meals, so much laughter, and many late nights spent doing your homework had happened in this room.

As Hunter watched your gaze move to the marks on the wall, he knew what you were thinking. “It’s in their new home, cyar’ika. You won’t have to stop making memories around it – think of it that way.” He comforted.

“I know.” You concede, offering him a thankful smile. “And now you all get to sit around it too.” Your mother had already insisted on hosting a family dinner once a week.

“Sap.” Crosshair teases in his typical fashion.

Snorting, you shake your head fondly. “You love it.” You counter.

“I love you.” He corrects, shooting you a playful wink.

Laughter fills the air again, and as a group, you slowly return to the entrance hall. One by one, your boys file out of the house. Echo stops to kiss your forehead before joining his brothers outside, giving you a moment.  

Alone in the entrance hall, you look around, fingers ghosting along the familiar walls. The memories embedded in the house's very foundation flood your mind, and Echo’s kiss lingers. The final moments you’ve experienced here – of laughter and love with the men you’re building a new life with – offer you comfort.

With a deep breath, you step out onto the porch, closing the door behind you for the last time. The cool breeze coils around you, and as you descend the steps, you cast a final glance at the house that helped shape you.

“Goodbye, old friend.” You whisper, letting go of the home that cradled your history. The embrace of your blood family and the family you’ve found awaits. And while you're excited to make new memories with them all on Pabu, you’ll always treasure the ones you made here.

[obikinbb]

✨ Academic Treatises and Narrative Canon✨

Author: @buying-the-space-farm Artist: @rancidmice

Word Count: 13,776 words Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala-Naberrie/Palo Jemabie Content and Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Key Tags: epistolary fic, essays, prose and non fiction, academia, NOT academia au though, canon divergence, GFFA setting

Summary: The narrative canon is a wide and confusing one. What actually happened a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away?

OR

A look at what the final days of the Republic were like from both the perspectives of Anakin and essays about the time period.

[Link to fic and art]