#Migration Amendment

[fatehbaz]

was thinking about this

To be in "public", you must be a consumer or a laborer.

About control of peoples' movement in space/place. Since the beginning.

"Vagrancy" of 1830s-onward Britain, people criminalized for being outside without being a laborer.

Breaking laws resulted in being sentenced to coerced debtor/convict labor. Coinciding with the 1830-ish climax of the Industrial Revolution and the land enclosure acts (factory labor, poverty, etc., increase), the Metropolitan Police Act of 1829 establishes full-time police institution(s) in London. The "Workhouse Act" aka "Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834" forced poor people to work for a minimum number of hours every day. The Irish Constabulary of 1837 sets up a national policing force and the County Police Act of 1839 allows justices of the peace across England to establish policing institutions in their counties (New York City gets a police department in 1844). The major expansion of the "Vagrancy Act" of 1838 made "joblessness" a crime and enhanced its punishment. (Coincidentally, the law's date of royal assent was 27 July 1838, just 5 days before the British government was scheduled to allow fuller emancipation of its technical legal abolition of slavery in the British Caribbean on 1 August 1838.)

---

"Vagrancy" of 1860s-onward United States, people criminalized for being outside while Black.

Widespread emancipation after slavery abolition in 1865 rapidly followed by the outlawing of loitering which de facto outlawed existing as Black in public. Inability to afford fines results in being sentenced to forced labor by working on chain gangs or prisons farms, some built atop plantations.

---

"Vagrancy" of 1870s-onward across empires, people criminalized for being outside while being "foreign" and also being poor generally.

Especially from 1880-ish to 1918-ish, this was an age of widespread mass movement of peoples due to the land dispossession, poverty, and famine induced by global colonial extraction and "market expansion" (Scramble for Africa, US "American West", nation-building, conquering "frontiers"), as agricultural "revolutions" of imperial monoculture cash crop extraction resulted in ecological degradation, and as major imperial infrastructure building projects required a lot of vulnerable "mobile" labor. This coincides with and is facilitated by new railroad networks and telegraphs, leading to imperial implementation or expansion of identity documents, strict work contracts, passports, immigration surveillance, and border checkpoints.

All of this in just a few short years: In 1877, British administrators in India develop what would become the Henry Classification System of taking and keeping fingerprints for use in binding colonial Indians to legal contracts. That same year during the 1877 Great Railroad Strike, and in response to white anxiety about Black residents coming to the city during Great Migration, Chicago's policing institutions exponentially expand surveillance and pioneer "intelligence card" registers for tracking labor union organizing and Black movement, as Chicago's experiments become adopted by US military and expanded nationwide, later used by US forces monitoring dissent in colonial Philippines and Cuba. Japan based its 1880 Penal Code anti-vagrancy statutes on French models, and introduced "koseki" register to track poor/vagrant domestic citizens as Tokyo's Governor Matsuda segregates classes, and the nation introduces "modern police forces". In 1882, the United States passes the Chinese Exclusion Act. In 1884, the Ottoman government enacts major "Passport Nizamnamesi" legislation requiring passports. In 1885, the racist expulsion of the "Tacoma riot".

Punished for being Algerian in France. Punished for being Chinese in San Francisco. Punished for being Korean in Japan. Punished for crossing Ottoman borders without correct paperwork. Arrested for whatever, then sent to do convict labor. A poor person in the Punjab, starving during a catastrophic famine, might be coerced into a work contract by British authorities. They will have to travel, shipped off to build a railroad. But now they have to work. Now they are bound. They will be punished for being Punjabi and trying to walk away from Britain's tea plantations in Assam or Britain's rubber plantations in Malaya.

Mobility and confinement, the empire manipulates each.

---

"Vagrancy" amidst all of this, people also criminalized for being outside while "unsightly" and merely even superficially appearing to be poor. San Francisco introduced the notorious "ugly law" in 1867, making it illegal for "any person, who is diseased, maimed, mutilated or deformed in any way, so as to be an unsightly or disgusting object, to expose himself or herself to public view". Today, if you walk into a building looking a little "weird" (poor, Black, ill, disabled, etc.), you are given seething spiteful glares and asked to leave. De facto criminalized for simply going for a stroll without downloading the coffee shop's exclusive menu app.

Too ill, too poor, too exhausted, too indebted to move, you are trapped. Physical barriers (borders), legal barriers (identity documents), financial barriers (debt). "Vagrancy" everywhere in the United States, a combination of all of the above. "Vagrancy" since at least early nineteenth century Europe. About the control of movement through and access to space/place. Concretizing and weaponizing caste, corralling people, anchoring them in place, extracting their wealth and labor.

You are permitted to exist only as a paying customer or an employee.

[moonstruckme]

hiii I'm just here resubmitting my request<3 so maybe r was in a fire (a small or large one, u decide), james was called and when he finds out it was her he gets sooo worried and she goes to the hospital or something? thank u!!

Thanks for requesting my love!

cw: fire, paramedics/ambulance, symptoms of smoke inhalation

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

James starts to stand you up when the ambulance turns onto your block. 

“Jamie, don’t bother them.” You feel a cough building in your chest, but you repress it. “I’m f—fine.” It escapes on the last syllable, and you can barely look at your boyfriend as he raises his eyebrows at you, incredulous.

“Humor me,” he says simply. 

You let him pull you up this time, and he presses a kiss into your hair even though you smell like pollution. James has stripped out of his bulky jacket, but the heavy pants still hang from suspenders wrapped around his black t-shirt. The fabric swishes against your leg as you make your way over to the ambulance. 

“We need oxygen,” he says without prelude, though not unkindly, nodding at the paramedic that gets out first in greeting. 

As if to punctuate this, your throat pinches warningly, and you let out a couple of meager coughs. James’ arm contracts around your waist. 

The paramedic seems to trust his authority, nodding for her partner to get something ready in the back while she walks over to you. 

“Look here please,” she says. 

You obey, flinching slightly when she points a pen light in your eyes. James’ hand migrates up to your shoulder, rubbing lightly. 

“Any dizziness?” 

“No,” you say, coughing a bit. 

She clicks her light off. “Nausea or vomiting?” 

“No.” 

“Headache?” 

“No.” 

James cuts a look your way. “Sweetheart,” he says softly. 

“I did have a headache,” you amend, “but it went away.” 

“Chest pain?” 

“A little,” you admit. 

“Shortness of breath?” 

“I don’t…” You look to James, then feel stupid. It’s not like he knows. “I don’t think so?” 

“Coughing?” 

“Yes,” James says emphatically. 

The paramedic gives him a funny look, then asks you, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirm. A little cough works its way out of your lungs as if to prove it. 

James looks a bit chastised. He rubs your back, touch both firm and comforting. 

She gives you both a smile. “Come sit back here, please.” 

You follow her into the back of the ambulance, perching awkwardly on the gurney in the middle.

“It seems like you have relatively mild symptoms of smoke inhalation,” she tells you. Her partner passes her a mask, and she holds it over your face for a few seconds before letting you do it yourself. Her fingers press to your wrist. “Your eyes are irritated, but it’s a good sign that your headache went away already. There’s probably not much more we can do other than give you oxygen. Your other symptoms should ease on their own.” 

You nod your understanding, relieved even if you’d been the one saying you didn’t need any help. With James, it’s typically best if only one of you shows your worry at a time. And he’s plenty worried enough for both of you right now. 

You glance over at him, standing outside with his arms crossed. It’s doing crazy things to his biceps, and you think that usually he’d grin if he caught you checking him out like this but now he looks like he might start tapping his foot impatiently. You feel guilty for getting him in such a tizzy. 

The paramedic finishes with your pulse and follows your gaze. “That your boyfriend?” she asks. 

Your breath fogs the mask. “Mhm.” 

“He seems fairly rattled,” she notes. “I supposed it’s probably not typical to get called to a fire at your girlfriend’s place, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. 

You’d already been sitting out on the lawn when James’ crew had arrived, the fire already put out and your front door left open. Smoke rolled out of it in one thick, relentless wave. You still have no idea how a fire that couldn’t have been burning more than fifteen minutes had created so much. You suppose James could tell you if you asked him later. 

The others had run inside, but James had gone straight to you. His chief wanted to confirm with you that there was no one else in the home (there wasn’t) and that you’d gotten out quickly (you didn’t have a great answer for that one). Like pulling teeth, it came out that you’d fallen asleep with dinner in the oven, and it was only by coincidence that someone had called your phone and the ringing woke you up. You’d turned off the oven and dumped cupfuls of water on your flaming dinner until it went out, but the smoke had spread throughout your home and your neighbor had already called emergency services. 

This led to you having to admit you hadn’t replaced the batteries in your smoke detector, which had led to a fervent lecture from your boyfriend that you doubt you’ve heard the end of. It was only the arrival of the ambulance that had distracted him. 

The paramedic sitting next to you jerks her chin toward James. That’s all it takes to get his attention, since he’s watching you like you’re going to float away if he doesn’t keep a close eye on things. 

“You can come up here,” she tells him. 

James clambers up quickly, giving her a terse smile at half his usual wattage as she moves to let him take her place next to you. 

“Hey, angel.” He takes the mask from you, holding it to your face himself. His other hand slides down the inside of your forearm and interlocks its fingers with yours. “Is she okay?” he asks the paramedic you’d spoken to. 

“Her symptoms are minor,” she assures him. “I wanna keep her on oxygen for ten minutes or so before checking her levels, but she’ll be fine.” 

James nods in thanks, but his sigh ghosts over the shell of your ear when he leans his brow against the side of your head. The paramedics conveniently find other things to do, and you’re grateful for it. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him quietly. 

“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” he says, matching your tone, “if that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh a little. It provokes your lungs, and a cough follows. 

James winces. Kisses your cheek softly. 

“Yeah,” you try again. “That sounds good, thank you.” 

“The next time you set foot in your place, I’m going with you and installing new smoke detectors.” 

Now you wince. “Fair enough.” 

“And I don’t think you should ever cook or nap again.” 

“That seems a bit far.” 

“I dunno, I think I’m being reasonable.” He kisses your cheek again, lingering this time. “I’d prefer to wrap you in some sort of fireproofed bubble wrap, but I think this is a compromise we can both live with, no?” 

You smile, and you can’t tell if your chest hurts because of your smokey lungs or the raw quality to James’ teasing, but it helps when he smiles back. 

“What if,” you say, “you cook, and I nap. Would that satisfy you?” 

He mulls this over for a second. “For now,” he decides. “I think I’d still like to work on fire-proofing some bubble wrap in the meantime, though.”

[exactlymaximumgarden]

900 with schlatt pleasee

900. you're not the only one i know - the sundays (link to req info here)

you'd managed fine on your own. you'd been able to make it just fine without anyone having to hold your hand. where was the harm in that?

that's probably why you'd initially handled the breakup with schlatt so much better than you thought you would. outwardly, anyway. yeah, it was an amicable split. he had to focus on his career and whatnot, yadda yadda. despite that, you couldn't rid yourself of the nagging thoughts that screamed at you. he'd been doing just fine with you, why do you suddenly have to be removed from the picture? what's changed his mind?

no sooner did these questions pop into your mind until long after the breakup actually happened. by that point, there was no point in revisiting them. what's done was done. there wasn't any reason for you to keep mulling over it.

schlatt is not the only man you know. plenty more fish in the sea. you'd find someone better eventually. that someone came into your life far sooner than expected.

charlie, despite being a content creator himself, was the complete opposite of schlatt. bubblier. more excitable. whatever affections you gave him, he returned tenfold. he was almost too good to be true.

part of you knew it was wrong. you were aware charlie and schlatt knew each other quite well, but as far as you could tell, the pair hadn't interacted in some time. and deep down, you yourself were unsure if charlie was what you were truly looking for or if he just happened to waltz into your life at the right moment.

you'd managed fine on your own, yet schlatt had left a void within you that was increasing with every day of his absence, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

still, you stayed silent, continuing to accept charlie's adoration with a feigned smile and a pit in your stomach as the thought of you admitting the truth to him pervaded your every waking moment with him.

you stayed silent then and you stay silent now as you stand beside charlie at this streamer event you honestly couldn't care less about.

schlatt is here. you know he is. you've caught glances of him throughout the duration of the night, but only now has he seen you. you know he has. you can feel his eyes boring into you as you stand beside charlie.

you can't help it. you sneak a glance out of the corner of your eye. schlatt's expression looks strained, as if he's seriously debating coming up to you and saying something.

but you're far too proud to talk to him anyway.

you can't explain what comes over you in that moment, but you purposely make a show of sliding your hand into your chattering boyfriend's, nestling your head against his shoulder.

this feels so unnatural. with schlatt, it would've felt as easy as breathing.

you see out of the corner of your eye that something in schlatt's face drops. he looks crestfallen. confused. after all, the two of you have been no contact since you split. what the hell has he missed since then?

he doesn't want to find out. not anymore. he does a rudimentary scan of the room before quickly migrating over to where mizkif, cyr, esfand, emiru, and other members of the otk crowd gather in a bustling amoeba of people. you note how taken aback and almost hurt he looks, and your heart sinks.

you're far too proud to talk to him still, yet where you thought your flashy show of affection to charlie would fill you with a smug sense of satisfaction, you're only left with a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. as far as you're concerned, all you've accomplished now is digging yourself into a deeper hole.

you'd managed fine on your own, but now, the isolation has garnered a new weight to it. at this rate, any attempts at amending the situation may as well be futile.

but you have to remind yourself once more, just as you always have. schlatt's not the only one you know. and as you peer up at charlie, who is completely oblivious to your inner turmoil, you intend to do everything in your power to keep it that way.

[capybonara]

The Zorca and their Migration Routes

Brain zoomies strike again but I wanted to add visual aid to these particular bits of story that have been running in my brain. Putting it all under a cut FOLLOW ME!

Spring: Lanayru Sea

Taking the events going on in @werewolfsister's comic, the relationship between the Domain and the Zorca have grown. Sardon, Cironus, Kaska ,and sometimes little Kaso, have become frequent visitors while their pod remains out in the bay and ocean area.

The water ways allowed Sardon and Cironus to get into all sorts of trouble when they were younger.

When they were just starting to test the limits of how far they could go from their pod, and small enough not to alarm other hyrulian races(mistaken for slightly taller zora boys) They came upon Kakariko Village by chance and during the late hours of the night raided a pumpkin patch and devoured everything. Not knowing they were the reason the present day Olkin is so protective of them. Maybe one day they can go back and make amends somehow…

The end of spring marks their next journey along with their big courting event!

Summer: Akkala Sea

As spring comes to a close, other pods start to converge in Lanayru so they can all make the trip together to Akkala. The main reason for this is for their courting event called Turning the Wheel. Which is a metaphor for life and death cycles, as well as their destination, the Rist Peninsula!

The younger zorca who are of age participate in a race to get to the end of the spiral at Rist Peninsula. But it's less about who gets there first and more about who they end up racing side by side with ("the treasure is the friends you make along the way!"). Older zorca take their time because they're socializing with old friends and previous partners. Those who participate in the game usually arrive a day earlier before the main group.

The pairings can come about unexpectedly! A zorca may hit it off with someone as they race. Or it can be planned, where partners agree to race together. There's no shame for anyone reaching the end without a partner though as they can try next season.

Non-zorca partners are allowed to participate in this event as well. Couples don't have to finish the race either, if they want to, they can break away and join the slower group, or head off together for more private entertainments. But a many enjoy reaching the end because once the entire group reaches the center of the peninsula they have their own party with food and singing to mark the start of summer!

Cironus and Sardon have played the game several times, and always reached the end solo. To avoid the matchmaking attempts by his grandmother, Sardon found a way to avoid courting by simply being faster than anyone trying to keep pace with him. Cironus enjoys the thrill of the game but no one has matched his pace either.

Once the summer of love is over its time to move on to...

Autumn: Necluda Sea

This is an especially important time for pregnant zorca! Their pregnancy can take over a year, so those who participated in last years courting event are ready for babies and need to be prepared for what's to come.

@werewolfsister's Domain of the Sunken Garden is located between the South East coast of Hyrule and Eventide Island. The Zorca have done gift exchanges with Oley and Tajin since the zorca themselves cannot reach the depths of their home.

Somewhere south of Eventide Island is where the Zorca perform their burial rites. When an individual passes, no matter the season, the pod travels to these waters to lay them down to rest in a whale fall event.

When the temperature shifts, and due dates are getting nearer its time to head on...

Winter: Faron Sea

Faron Sea is where the Zorca go to have their babies! Every baby born is a precious addition to their pod since the Zorca are so few in number. New and experienced mothers work over time with hunting and everyone else pitches in to help care for the little ones. The nursery is closely guarded, and anyone who doesn't have business there sticks around in the open waters.

Because the villagers of Lurelin fish in the same waters, the Zorca offer their assistance in any way they can, by helping them catch fish or chasing off monsters!

When spring rolls around again, they say goodbye to their friendly neighbors, and the newborns are strong enough to make the trip back to Lanayru to begin the seasons all over again.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

John Knefel at MMFA:

At least four organizations involved in Project 2025, a sprawling effort to provide policy and staff to a future Trump administration, have spent years arguing against birthright citizenship — a cornerstone of U.S. immigration policy that is guaranteed by the 14th Amendment.  Project 2025 is organized by conservative think tank The Heritage Foundation — which has opposed birthright citizenship for decades — and has more than 100 right-wing groups on its advisory board. Of those, high-ranking figures at both the MAGA-aligned think tank The Claremont Institute and the Center for Immigration Studies, which was founded by the nativist John Tanton, also oppose birthright citizenship. So does former Trump adviser Stephen Miller; he recently delisted��his organization America First Legal from Project 2025’s board, but his fingerprints are all over it. 

Although ending birthright citizenship is an extreme and unpopular proposal, these are not fringe groups. Heritage has been at the center of the conservative policy ecosystem for decades. In a 2018 fundraising email recently unearthed by Media Matters, Heritage bragged, “President Trump has already embraced 64% of our recommendations.” Miller is expected to exert even more control under another Trump administration than during Trump’s first term. Claremont is home to at least two former Trump advisers who oppose birthright citizenship — attempted coup participant John Eastman and Michael Anton, who wrote an op-ed for The Washington Post on the topic. Claremont also serves as a clearinghouse for right-wing media figures who move through their influential fellowship programs. CIS and other nodes of the Tanton network were instrumental in making policy and staffing the Department of Homeland Security under Trump.

As the American Immigration Council explains, the guarantee of citizenship for people born on U.S. soil has been a bedrock of Constitutional law for more than 150 years. And as AIC argued more than a decade ago, ending birthright citizenship wouldn’t slow unauthorized immigration. The conservative argument fails on its own merits but succeeds in advancing Project 2025’s broader anti-immigrant agenda. 

The Heritage Foundation

As lead organizers of Project 2025, Heritage deserves pride of place in analyzing the right’s long campaign against birthright citizenship, not least because the think tank has been hammering the argument for nearly two decades. In 2006, Heritage published a report by then-senior research fellow John Eastman — the same John Eastman who, as mentioned earlier, would later go on to try to help Trump overturn the results of the 2020 election while at Claremont — arguing against birthright citizenship. 

[...]

Center for Immigration Studies

If Heritage and Claremont are the higher-profile opponents of birthright citizenship, the Center for Immigration Studies — which the Southern Poverty Law Center has designated as a hate group — is the workhorse that keeps the issue percolating in the conservative policy world. In 2010, CIS’ Jon Feere wrote a white paper called: “Birthright Citizenship in the United States: A Global Comparison.” Although Feere discusses the 14th Amendment and Howard’s quote, he foregrounds decidedly more nativist concerns: “chain migration,” “birth tourism,” and the supposed “burden” unauthorized immigrants place on the social safety net (a common but false trope).  Since 2010, CIS has published at least 70 posts under the tag “Birthright Citizenship” on its website. One key entry, a companion piece of sorts to Feere’s initial offering, came in November 2018 in response to Trump’s Axios interview. In “Birthright Citizenship: An Overview,” CIS’ Andrew Arthur argues that birthright citizenship “remains an open question,” and that “the costs of births for the children of illegal aliens is staggering.” (Numerous studies have shown undocumented immigrants to be net contributors to the economy.) [...]

America First Legal

Stephen Miller is known as a leading advocate of some of Trump’s most xenophobic policies, including the administration’s “Muslim ban” and its family separation policy. It should come as no surprise then that in August 2019 Miller — then a White House senior adviser — told Fox News that the Trump administration was “looking at all legal options” to end birthright citizenship. 

Four months later, Rolling Stone revealed a series of emails between Miller and Jon Feere, who at the time was serving as a senior adviser in Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Feere — no longer at CIS, though he would return in 2021 — was Miller’s man at ICE, and although the heavily redacted emails don’t appear to reference birthright citizenship, Feere was so closely associated with eliminating it that Rolling Stone highlighted his published work on the subject near the top of its report.  After Trump’s defeat in 2020, Miller founded America First Legal, a conservative advocacy group that bills itself as the right's answer to the American Civil Liberties Union. Although it doesn’t appear that AFL has taken up birthright citizenship, the same can’t be said for Miller. On at least four occasions, Miller has posted content disparaging of birthright citizenship on X (formerly Twitter).

[...] The issue, it seems, is not going away. In this recent history, Eastman, Feere, and Anton have all played outsized roles — not to mention Miller, who remains Trump’s immigration-whisperer. All four are central to Project 2025, which in turn is intended to serve as a specific and detailed roadmap for what another Trump term would look like. The threat these figures pose to a cornerstone of U.S. immigration policy is plain, their shoddy scholarship notwithstanding.

Project 2025 partner organizations, such as America First Legal and The Heritage Foundation, call for the end of birthright citizenship. Such calls are rooted in nativism.

[mightyflamethrower]

Riots have broken out in multiple cities and towns across Great Britain, particularly over the past week. There were already protests taking place, but some of them have now turned violent. The topic driving all of this unrest is the immigration situation, particularly the illegal migrants that have been crossing the English Channel on rubber rafts and boats. Much as we've seen a backlash in the United States to violent crimes committed by illegal migrants, many Brits are clearly fed up as well. Everything seemed to come to a head last week when a series of stabbing attacks took the lives of three young children and left eight other children and two adults seriously injured. This took place in Southport, a seaside town north of Liverpool. Rumors quickly spread that the attacker was an illegal migrant, and that's when the protests turned violent. Hundreds have been arrested as a result. (AP)

Britain has been convulsed by violence for the past week as crowds spouting anti-immigrant and Islamophobic slogans clashed with police. The disturbances have been fueled by right-wing activists using social media to spread misinformation about a knife attack that killed three girls during a Taylor Swift-themed dance event. The violence, some of Britain’s worst in years, has led to hundreds of arrests as the government pledges that the rioters will feel “the full force of the law” after hurling bricks and other projectiles at police, looting shops and attacking hotels used to house asylum-seekers. As Britain’s new government struggles to quell the unrest and announces a “standing army” of specialist police to deal with rioting, here’s a look at what’s happening and why.

The liberal media has a marked tendency to try to blame nearly everything on online misinformation or disinformation, but in this case, they do seem to have a point. The attacker was described in several outlets as someone "believed to be an asylum-seeker or a Muslim immigrant." That report spread across the media quickly, inflaming tensions. But it turns out that the killer's name is Axel Muganwa Rudakubana and he was actually born in Wales in 2006, moving to Southport in 2013. His parents are reportedly legal immigrants from Rwanda. He also reportedly suffers from autism, so the stabbing attack may have been more of a mental health issue than any sort of hate crime.

Even if the deadly attack in Southport turns out to have been mischaracterized, that doesn't mean that the UK doesn't still have a serious problem with its illegal immigration situation and resultant unrest. This situation has been simmering for more than a decade and it now appears to be reaching the boiling point. There is a group over there named the English Defence League that has been operating for more than a decade, running a campaign against massive Muslim migration into the country, and they've been attracting more followers recently.

As far as the response to this situation goes, what we're seeing is a jarring juxtaposition between two different British leaders. The UK recently elected its new Labor Party Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, to replace the outgoing Conservative Party PM, Rishi Sunak. Sunak had previously vowed to stop the flow of illegals into the country by turning back the boats in the channel and deporting illegals already in the country to Rwanda. Immediately upon taking office, Starmer canceled the plan and instead vowed to take care of the problem by "working with other European nations and speeding up the removal of failed asylum-seekers."

Starmer has also vastly increased the rate of arrests... not of the migrants, of course, but of the protesters. Some of the protesters have engaged in vandalism and caused damage, with some even attacking the police, so they will need to be held accountable, but many of them are simply carrying signs and decrying both the current administration and the flood of migrants. They don't have the type of First Amendment protections we enjoy in the United States, so many of them have been sent to jail. Starmer has promised that the protesters will "feel the full force of the law" and established a "standing army" of specialist police to deal with the rioting. The entire situation is a mess, to be sure, but it's yet one more sign that massive migration and lax immigration enforcement are causing unrest far beyond America's borders. And the problem is spreading.

[pearl-kite]

Want to see some neat things about how irises grow?

Remember when I dug up and divided ALL of my irises at my parents' place a few years back? And how I ended up with 50 rhizomes, and I had bought 9 more just a bit before that?

Well, my mom wants to try to amend the soil because it's not great. Most of the irises have just been surviving, but not well enough to bloom, and everything else planted in the area struggles similarly. In order to amend the soil, though, I needed to dig them all up.

Again.

I dug up 44 rhizomes this time, which is honestly a bit better than I expected. I knew that not all of the ones I put in were going to survive, but I was still surprised by how many I just dug up today.

Anyway, the learning bit!

So irises aren't bulbs, they're rhizomes. Each year they put up leaves at one end, and over time they kind of end up migrating in that direction. If they do really well at gathering and storing energy, instead of just continuing forward, they'll fork, putting up leaves on two sides and a stalk with blooms in the center. The following year, the pattern continues, going forward from each side of that fork. If a rhizome does REALLY well, you'll end up with a bunch of forks spreading out.

The one on the left has survived, but not gone very far, and the white at the end shows that I accidentally broke some of the old rhizome off when I was digging it back up. It also happens to be a dwarf variety, so the rhizome is smaller to begin with; all my other photos are of intermediate and tall bearded irises with much larger rhizomes.

The one on the right has done well enough to grow forward for a few years, with the oldest of the rhizome at the bottom (still healthy and full of stored energy!) and the newest year's growth at the top. Looking at the rhizome itself, I'd guess that one is about 4 years (which makes sense, 'cause I think I did the splitting back in 2020).

The one on the left bloomed this year; you can see the flower stalk dried out in the center, and the new fork in the rhizome to the sides. Next year, they'll continue in those two directions, and it won't go forward from the stalk any longer.

The one on the right bloomed a few years back, and though it kept growing forward from there, it hasn't bloomed since. The other side of the fork also died off, and it's now only growing in one direction again.

Last but most certainly not least we have THIS beast. This one has bloomed the last two or three years in a row. I honestly can't tell if the guy at the bottom right is part of the same rhizome or another one I planted too close that got subsumed by this monster, because it took ten minutes to get most of the clay off and there was still more. I'll need to actually rinse it off with the hose to really see if it's all one plant or two.

But I'm 95% sure that this guy is going to bloom again next year because of those nubs down along the bottom. They were below the soil, and they're too thick to be new roots, so I'm guessing that's what future growth looks like. Honestly, this guy should probably be divided, but I also don't want to ruin the chance of it blooming next year, so I'm going to put him back in the dirt as is and maybe divide next year after blooming season.

Anyway, irises are my favorite, and I think it's intriguing how they work. I'm hoping that we can get the soil a bit more balanced and that they'll do better after replanting them, because even though I just dug up 44, we only had 4 or 5 bloom this year. They aren't thriving in the soil as-is, because for as long as they've been established we should have had more blooming than that. It was still the best year since dividing them, though.

I've brought a bunch of them over to my apartment and I'm going to try them out in containers, mostly the dwarf varieties I had. ONE of the dwarfs bloomed this year and it was gorgeous, but I'm hoping the rest will do better in new soil with some extra attention.

[samueldays]

Cuck Islanders are mad about free speech again.

Musk replied to an account laying blame for the riots at the “effects of mass migration and open borders” with “civil war is inevitable”, prompting criticism from No 10. He then in turn responded to a tweet from Prime Minister Keir Starmer with “shouldn’t you be concerned about attacks on *all* communities?”, seemingly parroting a far-right trope suggesting that officials don’t care about attacks on white victims – which is not remotely backed up by reality.

correction: which is thoroughly demonstrated by the Rotherham, Telford, and other rape rings targeting white victims.

To call this uncharted territory is the understatement of the century. The world’s richest man has bought what is still by far the most important real-time social network for news. He is not just failing to act over the far right using his site to mobilise and to radicalise one another – he is actively participating in discussions around the present unrest.

Oh no, "actively participating in discussions".

Musk has crossed the Rubicon, and the Government should make that clear. If he is fanning domestic unrest, we have laws relating to that and powers allowing it to take action. These range from travel bans, to sanctions, or possibly even criminal prosecution. Musk might be the world’s richest man, but he is still just a man. Perhaps it’s time for the UK authorities to remind him of that.

it's extraordinary what this guy thinks the UK is in a position to prosecute foreigners for.

Similarly from the BBC, which has weird page structure so the link might break:

The Director of Public Prosecutions says his teams will consider seeking the extradition from abroad of social media influencers who are playing a role in the violent disorder gripping the UK.

"playing a role in". What an open-endedly censorious and totalitarian thing to say.

Stephen Parkinson tells BBC that anybody invovled in the violence should know they will face the most severe possible criminal charges, including terrorism.

I think Stephen Parkinson should face the most severe possible criminal charges for abuse of government power in violation of the First Amendment to the American Constitution. It would be ironic punishment for a guy trying to enforce UK censorship abroad.

"We have liaison prosecutors around the globe, who've got local links with the local judiciary. We can cooperate with our international partners. "We would certainly consider extradition if we are satisfied that an offence has been committed. They must know that they are not safe and there is nowhere to hide."

ordinary dishonest bloviation, or imperialist mindset to censor the world, I wonder?

[acowardinmordor]

Flip the Board - pt 3

Part One - Part Two

This is going to have to migrate to Ao3. I'm incapable of keeping things short. I'll try to catch everyone in tags when I post part four, which will flip this to posting by chapter, rather than by scene.

----

Eddie didn’t skip as he rushed out the side door of the school, headed for the parking lot, but it was close to it. Dustin was standing with his back to the school, next to the van, imitating Harrington’s frustrated mom pose, with a lunchbox hanging from his left hand, and his backpack over his shoulders. Max was leaning against the van, while Lucas argued, and Mike glowered. 

Good progress, but they needed to get moving and were two party members shy of a successful departure.

Eddie hurried over, clapping to bleed off the excess energy, then flung open the door. Ignoring the random stuttered confusion, he snagged his supply and shoved it under the driver’s seat, then reached for bags and whatever else they had on them. 

“What the hell?” Max asked as he yanked the skateboard out of her hands.

“Chill, Red, I’m not stealing your board, you’re coming too.”

“No, really, what the hell?” Lucas added. 

“Shh, Sinclair. Hold your questions til the end of class. Dustin, you’re three for five. Did they not want to skip out? I don’t care. They have to. Do I need to go back for them? Come on. Chop chop. Where’s Robin and Wheeler?”

“I’m right here?”

“Wheeler the Elder,” Eddie amended with a flap of his hand, “You, Sir Michaelmas, are already accounted for.”

“Okay, Dustin, what shit is this?!” Mike snapped. He turned to face off with Dustin, and Lucas turned with him. “You said this was Code Red.”

Dustin was his favorite. 

Kid didn’t blink, didn’t hesitate, didn’t even glance at Eddie for confirmation. Which was one hell of a thing since it was Dustin, who can, did, and would question everything he encountered -- all at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t like Eddie took the time to explain a damn thing after telling him to get the others. Yeah, Dustin tried to ask something after Eddie told him to get the others, but lunch was ending and step one had to start immediately, so Eddie sprinted out of the theater and trusted that Dustin would listen. 

“It IS a Code Red.”

“How the hell would he even know to say that? He probably just overheard you talking about something and thought it would be a good joke.”

“It isn’t a joke,” Dustin insisted. “This is real. He knows something, and it’s serious.”

“Nancy graduated last year, but we’re supposed to think this is real?” Lucas said.

Oh shit. 

“Just because he doesn’t know everything doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Steve gets things wrong all the time and we still listen to him!”

Maybe this meant that the vision thing wasn’t real. Eddie scrambled backwards in his head, trying to figure out if he knew that or not. He saw her around all the time. Around the school all the time. She was in Hawkins during spring break. 

Whoops? 

Apocalypse canceled?

Oh wait. 

No. Dammit. 

He remembered this. He already knew this. Wheeler mentioned it after a couple campaign sessions. Damn. So much for hope. For a second he thought he hadn’t received some insane prophetic revelation.

“She’s working for the paper right?” Eddie interrupted before Mike could yell. “I knew that, sort of. A bit. I knew she was in Hawkins. That counts. It isn’t relevant to this. Got confused. Don’t complain, Wheeler junior, would you rather I know everything your sister does? I know you hate it when Steve talks to her, would you rather it was me?”

Mike’s eyeroll was the most ridiculous, but Lucas and Max joined in. 

Dustin was officially Eddie’s only child now; steadfast little shithead.

Eddie clapped again. 

“Right! Dustin! Where are the other two?”

“Okay. I told the others.” Dustin scowled a promise that all this good behavior was going to be repaid with the mother of all favors, but he answered, “Robin wasn’t sure when Steve finished his shift. She only knew it was before class ended today. She went to call him and see if Nancy was in the newspaper office. She’s either gonna show up with Nancy in a minute, or she’s going to be out here to let us know where Steve and Nancy are.

“And,” he continued, “The rest of Hellfire is pissed at you. Gareth said he was going to plan a coup for Hellfire and for Corroded Coffin. I am being very patient right now. It is taking everything I have to sound This Calm, but, Eddie, Dude, you need to start answering questions before I think you’re a Russian spy.”

Eddie blinked. 

“Uh.” Blinked again. “What do Russian spies have to do with demo-monsters and the Upside Down?” The kids all jumped when he said that name. He waved his hand, clearing it like a bad smell. “Dammit. Okay. Never mind, gotta learn about the communist infiltration later. Mayfield?”

“What now, Munson?”

“Don’t with that tone, Red. You have your walkman with you? Put it on. Kate Bush. Running Up that Hill. It’s your favorite song. Keep rewinding and listening until we can make you a loop tape.”

“What the hell?”

“Just put the headphones on.”

“Why should I listen to some dipshit who didn’t even know about the Russians?”

“Because you’re in trouble. The life-in-danger kind of trouble. Not the ‘you’re grounded’ kind.”

She snorted. For a second, Eddie saw how the others hadn’t noticed. She was good at fronting, if he hadn’t seen her before, he would believe it. 

“Have you been having headaches? Have you been having awful nightmares and thinking you’re hearing things and been thinking about how maybe it would be easier if--” He stopped before he outed any secrets. She heard what he didn’t say, and the suddenly serious look on her face was confirmation. “Just do it. It’ll keep you safe.”

Lucas had her walkman out already, skipping past the need to understand and lunging for her bag the second Eddie persuaded him. Good. That was good. Lucas would be good at this, and if he stuck with her, that was better odds on saving a second one. Their plan, using her, using a kid as bait for the interdimensional hell wizard was bullshit, and he wasn’t doing that again. No fucking way.

He knew the bats dropped, but he also knew the ground shook and there was a noise like the world tore apart right at the end. 

That was the last shot of the movie that arrived in his brain half an hour ago. A sound like the world screaming, louder than Dustin’s yelling, and then; a cafeteria. 

Maybe Max and the others pulled it off. Maybe they didn’t. He wasn’t gambling on this stuff.

“Eddie.”

“Dustin.”

“Are you going to explain stuff? Cause I’m trusting you right now, but even if I was okay not knowing what the hell, and I’m not, and you know that, even if I was going to be okay with it, no one else is going to be.”

“Yeah. You don’t know about this stuff,” Mike added. 

“I didn’t,” Eddie tossed back, stressing the past tense.

“And you learned about all of this while standing on a table in the middle of the cafeteria?”

For once, Nancy Wheeler’s ability to instantly override any conversation she entered was a blessing. Eddie didn’t know how to answer Mike’s question except with a plain ‘yes’ which would do exactly nothing to clarify any of this.

“Munson, if this is some kind of a joke, I will personally ensure that you do not graduate,” she announced as she joined them, deadly serious. “You have no idea how serious this is, and you can’t decide to use it as a prank the day before Spring Break because you think it’ll be funny.”

Eddie turned and smiled, “Ms Nancy Wheeler, you’re looking as delightfully felonious as ever.”

“Munson.”

“Not a joke,” he cut her off. “Robin, where’s Steve right now?”

“Well he was at Family Video, but I called and told him Dustin called Code Red, and I think he tried to spontaneously teleport to the school to help before I finished the sentence. Luckily he smacked into the edge of the counter, so he stopped to listen for a sec, so I told him to go home and we’d meet him there. But that was a couple minutes ago, so he’s probably breaking driving laws and freaking out right now. By the time we get there, he’s going to be at least half as freaked out as I am right now.”

“What is going on?” Nancy hissed.

“Normal Hawkins shit, apparently,” Eddie said, “It’s the end of the world and I know what’s coming.”

“Bullshit. This isn’t a joke. I don’t know how you found out about any of this, but this isn’t one of your games!” 

The fizz of victorious energy he floated on tempered by a few points. Eddie heard the sharp edge of Nancy’s voice, and held it up against the fear as she described Vecna’s plan. There were similarities. She didn’t believe him yet, but she believed it was possible. 

The others continued bickering while he and Nancy squared off. 

“He isn’t joking,” Dustin repeated stubbornly.

“Oh, so our DM suddenly knows about the Upside Down and we’re just supposed to trust he isn’t making it a story?” Mike yelled.

“It’s Eddie! Of course we trust him!”

“Well,” Robin dragged out the word, “some proof would be nice.” 

“You want proof that I’m not joking, Nancy?” Eddie hummed a little, and kept his focus on her. Goddamn, at least this bullshit was giving him some top shelf opportunities for dramatics. He waited until the quiet got a tiny bit tense, then quietly, simply, said, “In 1983, your shoe boxes were full of shoes. Now they’re full of guns. Pick them up on the way to Harrington’s, would you? All of them.”

“What.” Her face froze, blank.

He had more things he could say, but if he could convince Nancy, he figured the kids would shut up until they got everyone in one place. She was scary enough to buy him a little more time.

“Am I wrong?”

“How do you know that?”

“Told you. End of the world and I know what’s coming.” 

She nodded once, cautious and serious.

Eddie clapped his hands loudly to break the mood, and turned back to the gremlins. “Max, Lucas, Robin, you’re with me. Dustin, Mike, go with Nancy. ”

“No, get back here, Munson, how do you know that? How do you know any of this?”

“Yeah, sorry, I would, but we’re on the clock. I’m not gonna waste time doing this song and dance twice aaaaaaaand, tragically, for me, but excellent news for Henderson; I need Harrington.”

[nohoperadio]

I liked this moment from my current book (which is Tirra Lirra by the River from 1978), on the subject of what gets left out of art. The context is, our narrator is in need of an abortion; it's 1930s London, where she's just migrated from Sydney, Australia; she's very recently reunited with her best friend from her teenage years, who is now a novelist, and who knows somebody who can help, but the friend is hesitant at first:

Olive chewed her lip again, and I waited again. Then she said with sudden resolution, ‘I’ll ask this woman, of course. It’s only that it’s so frightfully embarrassing. She’ll think it’s for me.’ I was amazed that she should care. Here was another problem of reconciliation. Her novels were so worldly, her ‘approved’ characters so far above the current moral laws. ‘Olive,’ I said, ‘what do your characters use?’ ‘Use?’ ‘What contraceptives? They have affairs, so they must use something, unless the men are sterile or the women barren. And they’re not, because they have children, or talk of having them. And what about Aldous Huxley’s characters? And Noel Coward’s? And D. H. Lawrence’s? Yes, his. What do they use?’ ‘You had better ask them,’ said Olive. ‘I can’t. But I can ask you. What do yours use?’ ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Contraception—the avoidance of pregnancy—simply is not part of my theme.’ ‘What is your theme?’ ‘I suppose,’ said Olive, sounding shyer still, ‘the delicate nuances of feeling, you know, between a man and a woman in that position. I mean,’ she amended quickly, ‘in that relationship.’ ‘But wouldn’t those delicate nuances be affected by what they use? You can’t tell me it isn’t a nuance all of its own if a man has to stop to put something on, or a woman has to stop to put something in.’ But now Olive gave a laughing shriek and put both hands over her ears. And as I watched her laughing, and shaking her imprisoned head from side to side, I began to laugh myself. I could hardly believe that I should be shocking her (of all people!) in exactly the same way that the first lot of artists used to shock me at Bomera.

[shadowdaddies]

Can I request Aelin x f!reader and Aelin is very possessive over her

I'm feeling festive right now so I wrote this as a Yulemas piece with Aelin just wanting to spend time with reader more than anything

All I Want for Yulemas

Aelin x Reader fluff

Warnings: suggestive

Leaning over the bathroom counter, you carefully applied the red to your lips, festive for the Yulemas celebrations today. You smiled as Aelin padded into the bathroom, blonde hair a mess as she stood behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist. With a groan, she dramatically buried her head in your neck, mumbling against your skin. 

“I don’t want to do this today,” she whined. Turqoise eyes flicked to yours through the mirror, an all too familiar smirk gracing her lips as Aelin brushed her nose up the side of your neck. Pausing in between words, Aelin kissed a trail down your neck and shoulder. “We could...stay here...just you and me...”

Regretfully pulling away from her soft touch, you turned to face Aelin. “We have to get through temple and the ball.” Her responding groan made you giggle, amending, “okay, we have to make an appearance at the ball, at least. Queenly duties.” Aelin made a gagging sound at the title, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before moving to get dressed for the day. 

You sat in the front of temple, diligently singing along to the songs, holding back your snickering when Aelin was sure to point out the pointlessness of temple when there were no gods anymore. “It’s tradition,” you hissed, pinching her arm playfully as the both of you struggled to maintain your stoic expressions.

After temple, the crowd migrated to the ballroom for the main celebration. You joined Aelin on the dais, your queen raising a toast to the night and the official commencement of the ball. The orchestra struck up a jovial song, encouraging people from all around to rush the dance floor and take part in the merriment. Aelin gently took your hand, giving a discreet nod towards the exit.

“Come with me,” she whispered, leading you out the side door towards a winding staircase. You trailed her down a couple floors until you reached a door to the outside, the heavy wood creaking loudly as Aelin shoved it open to lead you out into the dark snowy night.

“Aelin, where are we going?” you murmured, teeth chattering as she guided you towards the line of evergreen trees at the edge of the forest. Turning towards you, Aelin winked and took off in a run as she pulled you along into the forest. 

You reached a clearing among the trees where the snow had unnaturally melted away, candles scattered around a blanket and pillows on the ground. A joyous laugh escaped you, your excitement palpable as you ran over to the warm haven, laying down on the pillows. Aelin laid down next to you, holding your hand as you both enjoyed the view of the starry sky. 

“I have a surprise,” Aelin whispered, and you whipped your head to face her in shock.

With a slight laugh, you waved an arm in gesture to the scene around you. “This isn’t the surprise?”

The soft look in Aelin’s eyes, her bright smile when she looked at you nearly made your heart burst. Silver lined your eyes as you shook your head in awe of her. “Aelin, you are too good to me. How am I supposed to give you a gift that compares to what you do for me?”

Aelin flipped over, blonde hair hanging in a curtain around her face as she hovered over you. One hand came to brush your cheek, that loving look in her eyes that would bring you to your knees had you been standing. “All I want for Yulemas is to be with you, away from responsibilities. Just to love you,” she whispered, a reverence in her tone. 

“I think I can arrange that.” Reaching up, you threaded your fingers through her long hair and pulled her down into a heated kiss. Legs wrapping around her waist instinctively, you moaned into the kiss, desperate for more of her warm touch. 

Aelin pulled away, breathless as she laughed softly against your cheek. “I haven’t shown you the real surprise yet.” She pressed a quick peck to your cheek, taking your hands to help you sit up as she moved behind you, hands wrapping around your waist. With a wave of her hand, small twinkling lights illuminated the evergreens around you, revealing small figures on the ground. You walked over to one, picking it up to see it was a wooden carving of a Terrasen pine tree. Small carvings and offerings surrounded the circle of trees, each representing something special to you. 

You couldn’t stop the tears that fell, thinking of how much time must have been devoted to creating these gifts for you. Aelin kneeled next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders. “The Little Folk made all of these for you, recognizing how special you are to me.” 

Setting down the carvings, you pulled Aelin in for a hug, holding her in your arms as if she would disappear if you let go. “Thank you, thank you all,” you whispered, to Aelin and to any Little Folk who might be listening. 

Aelin pulled back, brushing the hair that had fallen in your eyes as she wiped your tears. “Come on,” she whispered, guiding you back to the nest of pillows and blankets in the clearing. There was a small wicker basket you hadn’t noticed before, Aelin opening it to pull out a bottle of wine and - of course - chocolate truffles. 

Laughing, you settled into the pillows next to her, curling into her side as you took turns drinking from the bottle and eating chocolates. After hours of talking, whispering sweet nothings and sneaking intimate touches, Aelin drifted off to sleep - her golden hair splayed across your stomach that she used as a pillow. You stroked her hair absentmindedly, deep contentment settling in your bones as you fell asleep under the stars with her.

[fictionadventurer]

I’m not from the US so I don’t know much about it, but someone once told me that the civil war was fighting for two different things. The north was fighting to end slavery and the south was fighting because they didn’t want the government to be able to dictate to them what they did with their property (the only problem was that the south saw people (slaves) as property).

How much of this is correct? Or is it a simplistic view?

It's complicated. There are a lot of historical forces--social, economic, religious, political, legal, cultural--surrounding the lead-up to the Civil War, and you can take as simplistic or as detailed a lens toward it as you'd like.

Before the war, the South did want to protect their property. Slavery in the territories became such a huge issue because slave owners wanted to be able to migrate to these new territories with their property, which included slaves. The majority of the soldiers who'd fought in the Mexican-American War had been Southern--were they going to be barred from the territories that they had fought and bled to win?

Of course, the North argued that people couldn't be property, and their insistence that slavery was evil only made the South get more defensive over it. At the end of the 18th century, a lot of Southerners believed that slavery was an unfortunate evil--not an ideal situation, but not one they could realistically do anything about. (What were they supposed to do with all these free blacks, for one?) But as the South got more defensive, they started to argue that slavery was a moral good, giving these slaves much better lives than they'd have in Africa, and allowing for a white upper-class that could devote itself to civilized culture rather than the rat-race of industry in the North. Their way of life, they believed, depended upon maintaining slavery.

So the war absolutely was about slavery, but the South considered it the main issue long before the North did. Secession started pretty much as soon as Lincoln was elected, because he'd been painted as a "Black Republican" who was going to free all the slaves as soon as he came into office. In his famous "A House Divided" speech, Lincoln argued that the long history of maintaining balance between slave and free states wasn't going to be sustainable. Because Southern slave owners wanted to be able take their slaves through the whole country, and wanted to get their slaves back if they escaped to freedom, either the nation had to abolish slavery or slavery would take over the whole nation--there was no middle ground that would be acceptable to either side. Because everyone knew Lincoln considered slavery a moral wrong, the South thought this speech proof that Lincoln was going to free all the slaves, so they seceded to protect their "states' rights".

The ironic thing was that Lincoln didn't believe he could free the slaves. He was a lawyer through and through, who held the Constitution as a nearly religious document. The Constitution explicitly protected slavery, so as much as Lincoln would have liked to end slavery, he didn't believe the president had the power to do anything about it--that was up to the states. Not long after Lincoln came into office--in an attempt to bring the seceding states back-- both the House and the Senate passed a constitutional amendment that would have explicitly prevented the federal government from interfering with slavery; the war was the only reason it never went to the states for the vote to make it official.

Once the war started, the North was very clear that the purpose was not to end slavery--it was to keep the Union together. Lincoln believed that the Constitution as written did not give the states the right to secede, and that doing so was traitorous and made the Constitution meaningless. Remember, a democratic-republican government had never been attempted on such a scale before; several other similar governments had fallen in recent decades. If this American experiment was going to succeed, the nation needed to prove that an elected government could maintain power even when there was disagreement among its citizens. The war couldn't be about slavery--the North had to bring the rebel states back into the fold and then solve the slavery issue through civilized legislative and judicial measures.

So the North was very careful not to make the war about slavery early on. Early in the war, the ardent abolitionist general John C. Fremont took over Missouri, declared martial law, and issued a proclamation freeing all the slaves. Lincoln was pissed, and he immediately reversed the order. Several border states in the Union still allowed slavery; if they thought the war was about ending it, they'd join the Confederacy, and the problem would get even bigger.

That view only began to shift after the war dragged on. After so much bloodshed, could the North really be okay with going back to pre-war business as usual, with the issue that had led to secession unresolved? Black soldiers were beginning to fight for the Union and showing immense bravery--could we let them fight for freedom and then send them back to slavery?

Ironically, Lincoln was only able to issue the Emancipation Proclamation as a war measure. He still believed the president didn't have the power to end slavery--it's why the order didn't free any slaves in the Union. But slaves were an important resource in the Confederate war effort; men were able to go off and fight because they could leave their families and farms in the care of slaves. Slaves were being used for physical labor in army camps, freeing up the white men to do the actual fighting. By freeing the slaves, Lincoln was furthering the war effort by depriving the South of a vital resource--a legitimate use of his expanded wartime powers, with the added bonus of ending a horrible system of bondage. If the South hadn't seceded, such a measure wouldn't have been legal.

By the end of the war, the North was fighting to end slavery, and the South was desperately trying to spin the narrative to prove that it had been about anything other than slavery. But no matter how you spin it, the South seceded specifically to maintain slavery, and the resulting war was the only reason it was able to end.

[gatheringbones]

[“The history of the transatlantic slave trade and chattel slavery looms large in contemporary trafficking conversations – often in the form of claims, subtle or not, that modern trafficking is worse than chattel slavery. Politicians and police officers meet to tell each other that ‘there are more slaves now than at any previous point in human history’; a UK former government minister insists that ‘we are facing a new slave trade, whose victims are tortured, terrified East European girls rather than Africans’. Matteo Renzi, then prime minister of Italy, wrote in 2015 that ‘human traffickers are the slave traders of the twenty-first century’. The Vatican claimed that ‘modern slavery’, specifically prostitution, is ‘worse than the slavery of those … who were taken from Africa’. A senior British police officer remarked that ‘the cotton plantations and sugar plantations of the eighteenth and nineteenth century … wouldn’t be as bad as what some victims [today] go through’.

A 2012 anti-trafficking ‘documentary’ that was screened for politicians and policymakers around the world, including in Washington, London, Edinburgh, and at the UN buildings in New York, proclaims: ‘In 1809 the cost of a slave was thirty thousand dollars. In 2009, the cost of a slave is ninety dollars.’ White people co-opting the history of chattel slavery as rhetoric is grim, not least because the term slavery names a specific legal institution created, enforced and protected by the state, which is nowhere near synonymous with contemporary ideas of trafficking. Indeed, the direct modern descendant of chattel slavery in the US is not prostitution but the prison system. Slavery was not abolished but explicitly retained in the US Constitution as punishment for crime in the Thirteenth Amendment of the Bill of Rights, which states that ‘neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction’ (emphasis ours).

The Thirteenth Amendment isn’t just a vestigial hangover. In 2016, the Incarcerated Workers Organizing Committee released a statement condemning inmates’ treatment in the prison work system:

Overseers watch over our every move, and if we do not perform our appointed tasks to their liking, we are punished. They may have replaced the whip with pepper spray, but many of the other torments remain: isolation, restraint positions, stripping off our clothes and investigating our bodies as though we are animals.

There are more Black men in the US prison system now than were enslaved in 1850. Seeking to ‘end slavery’ through increased policing and incarceration is a bitterly ironic proposition.

White people in Britain and North America have been very successful at ducking any real reckoning with the legacies of the slave trade. Historian Nick Draper writes, ‘We privilege abolition … If you say to somebody ‘tell me about Britain and slavery’, the instinctive response of most people is Wilberforce and abolition. Those 200 years of slavery beforehand have been elided – we just haven’t wanted to think about it.’ By rhetorically intertwining modern trafficking with chattel slavery, governments and campaigners have been able to hide punitive policies targeting irregular migration behind seemingly uncomplicated righteous outrage.

Men of colour become ‘modern enslavers’ who deserve prosecution or worse. Their ‘human cargo’, figured as being transported against their will, are owed nothing more than ‘humanitarian return’, and the racist trope of border invasion is given a progressive sheen through collective shared horror at the villainy of the perpetrators. Meanwhile, in crackdowns and deportations, European governments position themselves as re-enacting and re-writing the history of anti-slavery movements to make themselves both victims and heroes. Of course, these actions by European governments do harm. For example, their policy of confiscating or destroying smuggling boats has not ‘rescued’ anyone, only induced smugglers to send migrants in less valuable – and less seaworthy – boats, leading to many more deaths. This policy continued for years, despite clear evidence that it was causing deaths. But, faced with twenty-first century ‘enslavers’, there is little need for white reflection. Instead, Renzi later wrote that European nations ‘need to free ourselves from a sense of guilt’ and reject any notion of a ‘moral duty’ to welcome arrivals. At the time of writing, the Italian government’s ‘solution’ to the migrant crisis is to pay for migrants to be incarcerated, stranded in dangerous, disease-ridden detention centres in Libya. As Robyn Maynard writes,

By hijacking the terminology of slavery, even widely referring to themselves as ‘abolitionists’, anti–sex work campaigners … in pushing for criminalization … are often undermining those most harmed by the legacy of slavery. As Black persons across the Americas are literally fighting for our lives, it is urgent to examine the actions and goals of any mostly white and conservative movement who [claim] to be the rightful inheritors of an ‘anti-slavery’ mission which aims to abolish prostitution but both ignores and indirectly facilitates brutalities waged against Black communities.

What does the fight to save people from ‘modern slavery’ look like on the ground? In 2017, police in North Yorkshire told journalists that they were fighting to rescue ‘sex slaves’ and asked members of the public to call in with tips, adding that the ‘sex slaves’ themselves ‘are prepared to do it [sell sex], they believe there is nothing wrong in it … We have just got to … educate them that they are victims of human trafficking.’ It seems fairly obvious that women who are ‘prepared to do it’ and ‘believe there is nothing wrong with it’ will not particularly benefit from being ‘educated’ about the fact that they are victims of trafficking – which in England and Wales means a forty-five-day ‘respite period’ (frequently disregarded) followed by a ‘humanitarian’ deportation.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

[drst]

May 16, 2024 (Thursday)

Seventy years ago, on May 17, 1954, the Supreme Court decided Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Kansas. That landmark decision declared racial segregation in public schools unconstitutional.

Brown v. Board was a turning point in American history.

It established that the U.S. government would, once and for all, use the Fourteenth Amendment to protect American citizens from discriminatory legislation written by state legislatures.

Added to the Constitution in 1868, in the wake of the Civil War, as southern state legislatures were writing laws that made Black Americans subservient to white Americans, the Fourteenth Amendment asserted that the federal government could, and must, stop such discrimination. It established that “No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.” It gave Congress the power to enforce the amendment.

In the late nineteenth century, the Supreme Court nodded to racial segregation in the 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson decision, getting around the Fourteenth Amendment by asserting that separate accommodations were fine, so long as they were “equal.” But in 1954 a unanimous court under Chief Justice Earl Warren, who had previously been the Republican governor of California, ruled that racial segregation established by state law in public schools denied to Black children the equal protection of the laws guaranteed by the Fourteenth Amendment.

“Separate educational facilities are inherently unequal,” it wrote.

Just two weeks before it decided Brown v. Board, the Supreme Court had decided Hernandez v. Texas, which established that not only Black Americans, but also Mexican Americans and all other nationality groups, were entitled to equal protection under the Fourteenth Amendment.

Over the following decades, the Supreme Court used the Fourteenth Amendment to strike down state laws against interracial marriage and gay marriage, and to establish equal rights for women, including the right to abortion. It also ruled the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which prohibited discrimination on the basis of race, color, religion, sex, or national origin, constitutional.

That new legal framework, embodied in Brown v. Board, both established the equal rights that were central to the modern era and sparked a backlash against them.

The federal requirement that states desegregate their public schools spurred southern state legislatures to pass laws and resolutions to block or postpone desegregation. In 1956, ninety-nine congressmen, led by South Carolina Democrat Strom Thurmond, wrote the “Declaration of Constitutional Principles,” quickly dubbed the Southern Manifesto, denouncing desegregation as unconstitutional.

Lawmakers also found ways to transfer tax dollars to private schools, which were not covered by the Supreme Court’s decision. Attendance at so-called segregation academies exploded. By 1958, more than 250,000 students had migrated to segregation academies, a number that jumped to a million by 1965.

Those opposed to racial equality made common cause with those businessmen determined to get rid of federal regulation of business. In 1955, William F. Buckley Jr., the son of an oilman, started National Review, a periodical that promised to stand against an active government that protected labor and regulated business. Buckley said he would tell the “violated businessman’s side of the story.”

In National Review, Buckley gave Virginia newspaper editor James Kilpatrick a platform to assure readers that desegregation challenged American values. Black Americans had no right to the equality declared unanimously by the Supreme Court, Kilpatrick wrote. Rather, the white community had an established right “to peace and tranquillity [sic]; the right to freedom from tumult and lawlessness.” Desegregation would lead to bloody violence, he promised, implying that Black Americans would rage and riot, although, in fact, it was the white community that was attacking Black Americans.

In 1964, Arizona senator Barry Goldwater brought these two themes to his presidential campaign. He stood firm on the idea that the federal government had no business either regulating business or protecting equality. In The Conscience of a Conservative, published under his name in 1960, Goldwater asserted that the federal government had no power over schools at all and certainly could not order them to desegregate.

Goldwater accepted the Republican presidential nomination in July 1964, less than a month after three civil rights workers registering Black Americans to vote had disappeared in Mississippi. Goldwater told his cheering supporters: “Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice, and…moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue.” Strom Thurmond publicly announced that he would vote for Goldwater.

Goldwater lost in a landslide, but his loss fed the backlash against federal protection of equality, especially after Congress passed the 1965 Voting Rights Act to expand Black and Brown voting, moving many of those voters into the Democrats’ camp. In 1968, Republican Richard Nixon courted Thurmond and white southerners with a promise to slow down desegregation and a defense of state’s rights. The so-called Southern Strategy moved the former Dixiecrats to the Republican Party.

Religious traditionalists, particularly those among the Southern Baptist Convention, also opposed the federal government’s support for equality, although they got less press in the early years of that expansion. In their view, the Bible laid out hierarchical social arrangements, especially patriarchy. Government defense of women’s equality was a direct assault on their worldview.

When he ran for the presidency in 1980, former California governor Ronald Reagan courted those religious traditionalists, and in 1985 his people made them a key part of the Republican coalition. Americans for Tax Reform brought together big business, evangelicals, and social conservatives under the leadership of Grover Norquist, who had been an economist for the U.S. Chamber of Commerce. “Traditional Republican business groups can provide the resources,” Norquist explained, “but these groups can provide the votes.”

In the following decades, Republican leaders used racist and traditionalist dislike of equal rights to turn out voters who would let them put their economic policies—cuts to taxes and deregulation of business—into place. But those opposed to equal rights found themselves out of step with a majority of voters and unable to get their policies enshrined into law as courts continued to uphold equal rights for racial and ethnic minorities, LGBTQ+ individuals, and women.

The backlash against the federal protection of equal rights based on the Fourteenth Amendment entered a new era with the election of Donald Trump. In contrast to his predecessors, Trump let the racist and sexist voter base of the party drive policy. White evangelicals, especially, found in Trump an answer to their frustration at being sidelined by the courts and a majority of American voters.

Despite his own lack of personal virtue, Trump was willing to smash through the laws and court decisions that had supported equality since the 1950s, offering to center the country on traditional religion and racial hierarchies in exchange for power. Under him, traditionalists saw the courts stacked with extremists who would prioritize their evangelical faith across society, including by ending the federal protection of abortion rights.

Their fight to return Trump to power is part of their fight to establish traditional religion, rather than the equality promised in the Fourteenth Amendment, as the nation’s fundamental law. As Trump’s chief of staff Mark Meadows wrote to Ginni Thomas, the wife of Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, as they plotted to overturn the decision of voters in 2020 to reject Trump: “This is a fight of good versus evil. Evil always looks like the victor until the King of Kings triumphs. Do not grow weary in well doing. The fight continues. I have staked my career on it.”

Today, almost exactly seventy years to the day after Brown v. Board ushered in a new era of equality and democracy in the United States, MAGA Republican lawmakers Andy Biggs (R-AZ), Lauren Boebert (R-CO), Michael Cloud (R-TX), Eli Crane (R-AZ), Matt Gaetz (R-FL), Bob Good (R-VA), Diana Harshbarger (R-TN), Anna Paulina Luna (R-FL), Ralph Norman (R-SC), and Andy Ogles (R-TN) traveled to Manhattan to stand with Trump at his criminal trial for falsifying business records to interfere in an election. The lawmakers made it clear that their determination to control the country has made them give up not only on the equality promised in the Declaration of Independence and defended by the Fourteenth Amendment, but also on democracy.

Echoing the promise of the right-wing Proud Boys to Trump before they stormed the U.S. Capitol to install Trump into office despite the will of the voters, Gaetz tweeted: “Standing back and standing by, Mr. President.”

--Heather Cox Richardson. May 17, 2024

[rreskk]

4am shenanigans

-A/N: This is a fanfiction I made for myself AGES AGO. I’ve decided to post it as an apology for procrastinating on requests and asks. MUCH LOVE!

Summary: Set in North Yankton, 2000s, you shared an interestingly intimate moment with Trevor Philips while in his car, beside a Church graveyard.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reade/Trevor Philips

Word count:  1583

In the middle of absolutely nowhere, Trevor’s (stolen) car was sat between a churches graveyard and a field of frosty grass that had dried out over the winter temperatures. It was around early morning hours, 4am to be exact; the sky being darkened and black as a void. Despite the peaceful atmosphere, the random car was rocking heavily, windows steamed up, unusual groaning and moaning emerging to interrogate the silence. The crows that were nesting in the trees evacuated for the sakes of the disturbing noises, hoping to find some peace in the state of North Yankton.

The car had no rest. It kept on rocking continuously for half an hour. There was not a soul from outside of the car… The church remained empty and still while the devilish activities made amends until it was all prosecuted and finished. The groaning was ongoing though… While the car was stationary, both pitches of male and female were blasted from the closed off (and sweaty) windows. It was a heavenly sound, a sense of relief and satisfaction.

Sooner than later, the headlights turned on, and the car sped off with high mobility. It drove through the misty morning and out of the Churches courtyard, leaving behind a faint smell of sex and no regrets.

  1 hour earlier ­­– 3AM – North Yankton, Ludendorff

  He fastened your leather jacket to see only your black lacy bra. He didn’t know whether he wanted it on or off, the sight was impeccably divine and saintly. You both had migrated into the backseats after a long, and frustratingly heated make out session that had led to you dry humping his thighs, towering over him as he lied there – enjoying the view while his boner only strained more.

Trevor rested his head against the door handle, having the VIP view. There was a wide and charming smirk on his face. He was beginning to sweat from the intensity, his thinning mullet dampening by the seconds counting.

“Ride me, ride me hard.” His voice hoarse and cheeks blushed shades of red. Trevor began biting his bottom lip as you slowly unbuckled his belt. He watched the way your hands zipped down his flies relentlessly. Your gorgeous fingers… His mouth watered at the thought of sucking them.

He wasn’t what you could call a “dominant” man. He hated labels, he hated acting one way. You’ve seen Trevor being as dominant as ever, but then you’ve seen him cradled in your lap like an inferior puddle of submission. Trevor had the reputation in North Yankton of being quite the ladies man. However, no matter the number of his body count, no lady has experienced such erotic moments with him. Unlike you.

Trevor dialled your number a few hours beforehand and this is where it got him. While his whimpers and whines of his ugly arousal was saved onto your shitty little mobile phone via voicemail, it’s a special reminder of how willing and needy he was to feel you around his skin again, besides… you’ll use it indifferently if he was in fact unavailable for lonely night shenanigans.

“[y/n]-“ Trevor spat out in impatience. You had daydreamed too long for his liking. He had his hands adventuring in your leather jacket as he grabbed onto your naked waist, pulling you closer. His force was incomparable. He practically pulled you with zero strength, easily guiding you to be sitting on his clothed boner that hid behind his underwear. You both gasped at the sudden contact, even through the fabrics.  

“Shit…” You breathed and began grinding against the hardness beneath you. Why waste anymore time? Trevor, wearing a leather pilots jacket, was under your bodyweight. His gleaming eyes, his flared nostrils, his crazy mullet and soft moustache (that had recently left stubble burns between your thighs days ago) was very much apparent, even though it was dark outside. The car light helped out more than you’d thought.

Trevor gagged in contentment and arched his back, pressing his hips against yours as his hands began perverting your bra. Those dirty and criminal fingers latched onto the hem, pulling it down enough so your nipples were free from the accessory he called “prison”.

“Trevor-“ You whimpered, “Oh God.”

“Oh, yeahh… Come on, baby.” He began toying with your breasts, pinching the nipples and rubbing them against his sweaty palms. Trevor looked like a kid at Christmas as you edged forward, proceeding to grind faster against the heated bulge in between his legs. He immediately moaned your name.  

Instinctually acting upon his natural response, he clawed your undergarments and tore them off, literally. You shuddered when fragments of your panties were now thrown in different sectors of his car. It almost made you forget that your sex was officially on display until he draped his thumb over the opening, determining whether or not you were wet enough for his cock. He always liked it soaked before he could fuck you, it was a simple preference that you had to deal with… And when it wasn’t wet enough, it gave him an excuse to whine and edge you until proven deserved of the “Trevor Philips treatment” – His words, not yours.

“Ahhhh, hah! You are soaked to the brim, ay?” He grinned widely, “So fuckin’ desperate for me, ain’t cha?” His thumb detached from your clit and moved towards his own dick.

You didn’t want to sit there on his lap and look pretty. While you were dressed in this oversized leather jacket that cupped your tits so effortlessly, it made you look like a sexy whore from the 90s pornos, but you wanted to act more than this. As Trevor pulled out his throbbing erection, your hands suddenly grasped his neck; causing his head to fall back against the hard car door handle. He whimpered and tensed up. His eyes pierced into yours with extreme arousal, no sign of bitterness behind your roughness.

“Choke me, choke me… Do it.” In fact, he ordered you to.

You saw his chest rise as you began tightening your grip around his clogged up throat. Trevor continued to whine before he weakly lined his cock to your entrance then signalling you to sit. You didn’t have to be told twice… As soon as he rubbed his foreskin against your flaps, you rammed your hips down and suffocated his needy dick with your pussy.

“FUCK!” Trevor cried out with the hand around his neck.

You had also moaned, beginning to ride him raw. There was no chance you’d find balance without having both hands around his throat now. Trevor panted and loved every second… While you choked him through the intercourse, he allowed his hands to squeeze, tickle, slap, pinch your breasts. He watched them shake due to the pace of your bouncing.

“Trevor, Trevor!” You couldn’t help but preach his name. You stared down at him and his face was dripped in sweat. Trevor had distorted moans escape his closed throat since your grip had tightened throughout the intimacy. However, he smirked. He loved hearing his name fall out of your horny mouth.

The car was rocking heavily now. You were mounting his lucky dick with your aggressiveness. The leather jacket around your naked skin flapped, your left shoulder gradually becoming exposed as the jacket failed to stay around you. Trevor’s hand immediately groped the newly accessed skin, fondling your shoulder between his fingers with enough power to bruise it. It only motivated you to carry on riding.

“Fuckkk…” His raspy wheezes was heard from under the sound of his tires squeaking. Trevor felt himself growing closer, holding onto your shoulder and waist for security, “Ohhh… Gonna cum, gonna cum!”

You winced and refused to decrease the pace. You carried on ramming him until the man was nothing but a pool of mush.

“[Y/N]!” Trevor arched his back again and nailed your pussy in time for his climax… “FUCK!” He grabbed onto your jacket and pulled you forward so you were lying on him, skin to skin contact. His cock slid out and he came all over your thighs and car seat, this orgasm being extremely rewarding considering it left him speechless, his tongue hung out of his mouth and eyes wide like he was drugged with ecstasy.

Moaning, your nose nuzzled into his sweaty neck as you rubbed your sex quickly after his absence, managing to climax seconds after Trevor. He gasped again, feeling another load of hot fluid paint the car seat underneath you both.

“Trevor, oh fuckkk…” You whispered against his stumbled jaw, “Mmmm, so good.”

You felt his hand rub your back gently and he slowly found his stamina, “You’re a fuckin’ woman to remember, sugar. Fuck me.” He praised with a grin.

The car shuffled as you both emigrated from the backseat, deciding it was best to leave before you’d fall asleep and risk getting caught beside the Church. He kept giving you cheeky smiles and winks during the process of putting on clothes. Once you decided it was time to leave, Trevor ruffled up his hair and turned on the engine. He gazed into the rear mirror then hitting the pedal and speeding off, leaving the scent of fresh sex and no regrets.

[lol-jackles]

"Anonymous:Hi. Why do you say that Jared fans are the most chill and nice part of the spn fandom, when in twitter, they were the first to be happy and mock jensen's work? I dont care about anyone but it was cringe to read the pettiness and bad taste of JP fans" lollll considering there are not one but TWO heller cults that we know of that abuse their own members and encourage them to abuse others this is the most hilarious tale of fake woe

Oh yeah, I saw on my dash that escapees from Destiel-heller Jaistiel's merry band of mean girls cult are apologizing for their own non-specific crime of toxic behavior. Notice that the escapees aren't confessing and making amends, their apologies are largely about making themselves feel better, but still, could be step in the right direction.

Before Destiel hellers, there were and are the Ackles Army and I've told my story many times that my petty bickering with them on the defunct IMDb forum was half the reason why I started this blog on this hellsite. These two groups of fuckwits all have the same goal: to get rid of Jared because that is the only way Jensen and/or Misha can succeed in their careers, not because, you know, no producers wanted them as leads for expensive tv projects.

I recall Will of The Teamfreewill2pointo blog said many times that escapees of Goob's cult have contacted him saying how terrified they are of Min/Occam/Aaron and their merry band of make-believe-terrorist. Speaking of Goob, that blog is gone. I'm guessing they're just show up under a new identity, complete with new gender and racial identity looking to grift SPN new fans or migrate to another fandom to terrorize. They're still active on twitter and this is one of my favorite of their's ...

Look at that, no retweets and no likes and barely a hundred people read it. Buddy, it's you who is going away because none of your claims panned out. You took nothing. The SPN fandom has and will always belong to the fans of Sam and Dean and Codependeny Bro Bonds.