#black money from india

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Merle Oberon (Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Pimpernel)—She was mixed race (born in India and her mother was Sri Lankan) and still managed to make it in the British and American film industries (by passing) despite a rough start in life and industry racism. She was the first Asian person to be nominated for any Academy Award (best actress in 1935)! She also survived a car accident in 1937 and kept on acting until 1973, despite potentially career-ending facial scars. Also, she met her third husband while they were filming a movie together in 1973 (her last movie and she still looks great!). They fell in love and got married in 1975 when she was 62 and he was 36. She died 4 years later in 1979. Iconic.

Jean Seberg (Breathless, Saint Joan)— Some of us watched À bout de souffle as a lil French undergrad and had the trajectory of our lives changed by Jean Seberg. She IS French new wave!! She is the moment!! She sadly had to work with a lot of shitty directors in her career but even so, she has this magnetic energy whenever she’s on screen. In her personal life, she was also very supportive of civil rights causes, and was even targeted/harassed by the FBI for financially supporting the Black Panther Party.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Merle Oberon:

Beautiful. Talented. Biracial. Also please refer to the following promo from the aforementioned A Night To Remember, in which she plays the writer George Sand:

Her performances always give off this perfect blend of of being composed, refined, and aloof while still being deeply passionate and I eat it up every time.

Linked gifset

A rare example of a WOC working in lead roles in this era (mostly because she worked very hard to pass as white and had to hide her south asian heritage sadly). She has this very regal vibe but also a simmering intensity—even holding her own as Cathy opposite Laurence Olivier as Heathcliff.

I need all the gothic fans to STAND UP for our cathy!!

She has such a unique face when it comes to old hollywood actresses - a lot of them start to melt together in my brain - but Merle has always stood out to me<3

Jean Seberg:

anyone who plays Joan of Arc is kind of hot by default tbh

she's gorgeous, she's cool, she has the original blond pixie cut

She donated a lot of her money to civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the black panther party as well as Native American school groups, as a result of this the fbi ran a smear campaign against her and a surveillance campaign which is thought to have led to her suicide tragically.

idk if this is propaganda but the COINTELPRO and the FBI are widely blamed for her death. If the FBI was after her for supporting the Black Panther Party you know she was good

[jackoshadows]

It's so confusing and weird that Bridgerton introduced in world racism both with Lady D and Simon in season one of the show and in Queen Charlotte and at the same time they also want the audience to accept that somehow Marina Thompson or the dark skinned Indian Kate Sharma has more privilege and power than Penelope Featherington?

Kate Sharma was also poor, so much more than the Featheringtons. She depended on Lady D to host them. The Sharmas were looked down on by the ton because Mary Sheffield married an Indian. The Sharmas were disowned and ostracized by the Sheffields.

Kate was also an unmarried spinster. No one was asking Kate to dance. As much as Kate wanted love and romance and to dance at a ball wearing pretty dresses, she got none of that. She was also the woman on the sidelines watching as others danced and fell in love.

Racism and colorism is also very much a thing in eurocentric notions of beauty considering the setting and characters of Bridgerton is 99% white.

We got so little of Kate's backstory, of who her parents where - we didn't even get their names!! - of the trauma (explained for both Simon and Anthony using flashbacks) that had Kate overlooking her own happiness for that of her sister.

Despite bragging nonstop about the diversity of Bridgerton the showrunners thought that the white Featheringtons needed more screentime in season 2 rather than the South Asian family.

And Kate was planning on going back to India and work as a governess to pay for her livelihood. Because, you know, there's more honest ways of being a 'working woman' than running the equivalent of the regency 'Daily Mail' dragging other women down. The modiste Madame Delacroix, Kate planning to teach and Sienna in season one are all working to pay a living. Black, brown and lower class women looking to alleviate poverty.

And considering how much harder Kate already had it as an outsider in the ton, it wouldn't have been easy with Penelope using her gossip rag to describe the unmarried Indian woman as ' a Spinster of a beast'. What did Kate do to Penelope to warrant this? Nothing. Just a way for Penelope to make money at Kate's expense.

That's the thing I dislike the most about the way the character of Penelope is written on the show - her victims don't deserve her vitriol and are often in much worse circumstances than her. From Kate Sharma to the unnamed seamstress who apparently lost all her customers because Penelope wrote falsely about their work in the her tabloid as a bribe for Madam Delacroix.

And I think that's what I find problematic about the writing of the show and even the discourse surrounding it - when characters like Marina Thompson (the poor black cousin who would have ended up destitute on the streets because of Penelope) and Kate Sharma arguably have it far worse than Penelope Featherington as per the show's writing and yet we are supposed to have the most sympathy for Penelope because her crush Colin didn't love her back and she's a curvy white woman?

I guess that's the difference between how I perceive this world and these characters as a woc and the majority white female audience for this show and it's such a huge disconnect for me. I guess this is also partly because the show has this badly written and 'strangely toothless racism' as Ash Sarkar beautifully put it. As in the racism is treated in this world as a little problem solved by handing out a few titles to black people instead of being a white supremacist ideology which treated black and brown people as inferior, serfs and slaves.

From what little we got from season 2, Kate Sharma definitely did not have it easy navigating the ton as a poor outsider and that certainly contributed to her poor choices. She is also put through the wringer, treated like the other woman, is miserable for several episodes, had to apologize again and again and nearly die before Edwina forgives her!

In contrast Penelope's actions have hurt so many and yet she gets a pass by both the show and a fandom that wants Colin to grovel before her because of a single offhand remark and because he didn't return her affections.

Also making it clear here that I am not comparing Penelope to the male characters who always get the better writing, flaws and all. I am comparing Penelope to the female characters of colour - Kate Sharma and Marina Thompson.

I mean, Marina Thompson gets so much vitriolic and sexist hatred for not having told Colin Bridgerton the truth of her pregnancy. How dare Marina hurt this privileged white man Colin Bridgerton. When she was desperate to not end up destitute on the streets or get raped by old white men. And yet Penelope gets a pass for hurting women like Marina and Kate.

It continues a trend of white female characters never being held to the same standard as female characters of colour. Daphne sexually assaults Simon in season one and that was not even addressed on the show. Male rape is apparently no big deal because Daphne wanting children is what's important. It's Simon who has to apologize and within one episode resolve his trauma and accept being a father. This is despite both Daphne and Penelope having more screentime and more writing that builds their character unlike the stick thin writing given to Kate Sharma in season 2.

So yeah, I will be checking into season 3 to watch the ten minutes we get with Kate Sharma since we got so little of her in her own season and it's so singular to get dark skinned south Indian characters in a period drama romance like this. It's just the way the writing on the show, the production and even the fandom treats it's characters, especially characters of colour has been disappointing to say the least.

[fatehbaz]

In fact, far more Asian workers moved to the Americas in the 19th century to make sugar than to build the transcontinental railroad [...]. [T]housands of Chinese migrants were recruited to work [...] on Louisiana’s sugar plantations after the Civil War. [...] Recruited and reviled as "coolies," their presence in sugar production helped justify racial exclusion after the abolition of slavery.

In places where sugar cane is grown, such as Mauritius, Fiji, Hawaii, Guyana, Trinidad and Suriname, there is usually a sizable population of Asians who can trace their ancestry to India, China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia and elsewhere. They are descendants of sugar plantation workers, whose migration and labor embodied the limitations and contradictions of chattel slavery’s slow death in the 19th century. [...]

---

Mass consumption of sugar in industrializing Europe and North America rested on mass production of sugar by enslaved Africans in the colonies. The whip, the market, and the law institutionalized slavery across the Americas, including in the U.S. When the Haitian Revolution erupted in 1791 and Napoleon Bonaparte’s mission to reclaim Saint-Domingue, France’s most prized colony, failed, slaveholding regimes around the world grew alarmed. In response to a series of slave rebellions in its own sugar colonies, especially in Jamaica, the British Empire formally abolished slavery in the 1830s. British emancipation included a payment of £20 million to slave owners, an immense sum of money that British taxpayers made loan payments on until 2015.

Importing indentured labor from Asia emerged as a potential way to maintain the British Empire’s sugar plantation system.

In 1838 John Gladstone, father of future prime minister William E. Gladstone, arranged for the shipment of 396 South Asian workers, bound to five years of indentured labor, to his sugar estates in British Guiana. The experiment with “Gladstone coolies,” as those workers came to be known, inaugurated [...] “a new system of [...] [indentured servitude],” which would endure for nearly a century. [...]

---

Bonaparte [...] agreed to sell France's claims [...] to the U.S. [...] in 1803, in [...] the Louisiana Purchase. Plantation owners who escaped Saint-Domingue [Haiti] with their enslaved workers helped establish a booming sugar industry in southern Louisiana. On huge plantations surrounding New Orleans, home of the largest slave market in the antebellum South, sugar production took off in the first half of the 19th century. By 1853, Louisiana was producing nearly 25% of all exportable sugar in the world. [...] On the eve of the Civil War, Louisiana’s sugar industry was valued at US$200 million. More than half of that figure represented the valuation of the ownership of human beings – Black people who did the backbreaking labor [...]. By the war’s end, approximately $193 million of the sugar industry’s prewar value had vanished.

Desperate to regain power and authority after the war, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters studied and learned from their Caribbean counterparts. They, too, looked to Asian workers for their salvation, fantasizing that so-called “coolies” [...].

Thousands of Chinese workers landed in Louisiana between 1866 and 1870, recruited from the Caribbean, China and California. Bound to multiyear contracts, they symbolized Louisiana planters’ racial hope [...].

To great fanfare, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters spent thousands of dollars to recruit gangs of Chinese workers. When 140 Chinese laborers arrived on Millaudon plantation near New Orleans on July 4, 1870, at a cost of about $10,000 in recruitment fees, the New Orleans Times reported that they were “young, athletic, intelligent, sober and cleanly” and superior to “the vast majority of our African population.” [...] But [...] [w]hen they heard that other workers earned more, they demanded the same. When planters refused, they ran away. The Chinese recruits, the Planters’ Banner observed in 1871, were “fond of changing about, run away worse than [Black people], and … leave as soon as anybody offers them higher wages.”

When Congress debated excluding the Chinese from the United States in 1882, Rep. Horace F. Page of California argued that the United States could not allow the entry of “millions of cooly slaves and serfs.” That racial reasoning would justify a long series of anti-Asian laws and policies on immigration and naturalization for nearly a century.

---

All text above by: Moon-Ho Jung. "Making sugar, making 'coolies': Chinese laborers toiled alongside Black workers on 19th-century Louisiana plantations". The Conversation. 13 January 2022. [All bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[bodhrancomedy]

The Bard Who Returned to Fairyland in Search of a Name by Bodhrán M.

It was the ferryman who met the bard first, a beardless lad in a ragged cloak, broadbrimmed hat, and carrying nothing save an iron knife and one small pack across his shoulders. He watched with mild interest as the bard picked his way down the grassy knoll and onto the black-wood of the small dock, coming to a halt directly before the little boat.

Neither of them moved for a long while. Somewhere in the distance, an eagle screamed. 

Finally, the bard spoke.

“I wish to cross the river,” he said.

The ferryman leant on his oar and regarded him with rheumy eyes, pushing a lank hunk of wire-grey hair from his face. “Is that so?” he replied. “Do you have payment, my boy?”

“Yes, I do.” The bard withdrew a coin purse from beneath the green cloak.

“Coin won’t do, boy. Not what I dabble in.”

“I know,” the bard said quietly. He had an odd voice, the ferryman noted, with no hint of fear or trepidation or awe. “I bring seashells from the coasts of Ireland,” he continued, “filled with the songs of the selkies. I bring spices from the borders of India and China with many healing powers beyond that which we can understand, and a trollish crystal gifted by the giantess-queen of Iceland. I deal as little in money as you do.”

The ferryman was impressed, even if he didn’t show it. He dug a filthy black pipe from a salt-encrusted pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He waited, but the bard made no move to light it for him. Finally, he took a tinderbox from another pouch (this one being an oilskin gifted many years ago by a Swedish princess) and struck a spark.

“So,” the ferryman said, his words curled about the billowing black smoke, “you know what is across this river?”

“I know.”

“And yet you wish to cross it.”

The bard shrugged, almost as if to say that the statement was obvious enough that it did not need to be said. “Have I brought enough to pay for passage?” he asked.

“Of course,” the ferryman said as he stepped aside to allow the man to board.

But the bard did not. Instead, he gripped the brim of his hat and pulled it further down over his eyes. His voice was as steady as before, but lower and intertwined with steel. “Both ways?”

The ferryman’s eyes narrowed.

The bard stood there, waiting for an answer, one small hand on his knife.

Hemming and hawing, the ferryman felt a sting of disappointment and suspicion in his gut. He had ferried more hopefuls across this river than he had ferried back and there was almost nothing which he liked more than the faces of those who had returned to his boat having not taken the first precaution. They had thought ahead enough – many of these wanderers and seekers of mysteries and gold – to have gotten his word not to throw them into the cold water or have their treasures taken before they reached human land again, but they had not thought about payment for the return journey.

But seashells and spices were twice the payment for a crossing – and he had never owned a troll-crystal before. He’d heard that they could outshine the sunrises even in the frozen northern plains, that they were rainbow stars from deep within the ground. It would be something to treasure in the dark.

It was through gritted teeth, therefore, which he gave his answer. “Yes,” the ferryman said.

The hat bobbed as the bard nodded. “And I will reach each shore in the same condition as I board your boat, sir? Each way.”

“Yes,” the ferryman agreed sullenly. Then he thought and tried to not brighten in anticipation.

The bard either did not notice or did not care, but he stepped aboard with the ease of one used to the pitch and swell of river boats. He sat in the prow, half-turned so he could look across the water and still see the ferryman.

Clever, that.

Carefully, the ferryman untied the mooring rope and then pushed off the knoll with his oar. He began to pull through the water with broad, powerful strokes and so it was a matter of minutes before they reached halfway.

It was then that the ferryman felt safe in speaking again. Too soon and sometimes the young fools would see the error of their ways and pitch themselves into the water. Once you reached halfway, you were falling into enchantments rather simple cold. It did make him laugh, sometimes, to see them flail and splash their way back to safety. He liked to wave at the ones who lived, standing sopping wet and humiliated on the dock, and sing mocking laments at those who did not.

But he did not think that this young man would do so. Still, he waited.

“You off to fairyland, boy?” he asked cheerfully, “Here to see for yourselves the wonders your bardic forefathers taught you? To see if they’re as real as they say?”

The bard tilted his head and the ferryman saw a flash of white teeth from beneath the hat brim, bared in a savage grin.

“No, sir,” the bard said, “I am not merely going to fairyland, sir ferryman. I am going back.”

“Well, that’s a thing!” the ferryman exclaimed. He rubbed his chin with his free hand and added, “Not many people wish to test their luck twice.”

The bard shrugged again.

“And why have you returned?”

The hat tilted back and suddenly the ferryman saw the bard’s face clearly for the first time. It was even younger-looking than he’d expected, suntanned and heavily freckled, but harsh and set in furious determination. “That is my business and my business alone, sir ferryman,” the bard replied in cold tones. “For I know what you are as we have met before, and you told me in the mistaken belief that we would never cross paths again. And I know that changelings would do what they can to gain favour in the eyes of fairyland’s mistress. I would not give up my slightest advantage to satisfy your curiosity.”

Knocked back a little by the intensity of this speech and suddenly slightly afraid of why he would not remember this young man, the ferryman opened and shut his mouth a few times and said nothing in reply. He rowed on in silence, feeling sweat prickling on his brow. Either this passenger was a grand sorcerer of some great power, or he was an overconfident boy with a head full of stories. But he could not place a finger on either option without some unease. Neither felt right.

“It was curiosity, nothing more,” the ferryman mumbled. “I meant no harm in asking.”

“But you did mean harm in knowing,” the bard replied lightly. “And you could make harm in telling. I am no child, sir ferryman, and I understand how this all works.”

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P3

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 4-

=

Thankfully, as she woke up, (y/n) hadn't moved from her bed throughout the night. She sighed and slowly sat up, rubbing her face, drawing back the curtains of her bed, seeing her roommates all up and getting dressed for the day. It was a Sunday, so it was Hogsmeade day for years 3 and up.

Hogsmeade sounded fun.

(y/n) looked at the diary and grabbed it, popping open her ink well and grabbing her quill, flipping open a book to the now blank page she’d been writing in the night before.

“Morning Tom.”

Tom took a moment to respond, her ink disappearing into the page as his elegant scrawl appeared in its place.

‘Good morning (y/n), did you sleep well?’

“yes I did, thankfully. Woke up where I should be too, in my bed.”

‘Very good. Are you feeling better?’

“yeah, much better, thank you. Im going to go to Hogsmeade today, would you like to come with?”

‘Well, I wouldn’t be able to do much, would I?’

(y/n) hummed in thought, Tom had a point, as he could only see what she wrote/illustrated in the book.

“good point, but I could maybe bring you to the bookstore there and get some ink you’d like?”

‘I don’t eat the ink (y/n)’

“not what I meant but that’s a very funny visual thank you.”

(y/n) giggled to herself, imagining the book eating the ink instead of just absorbing it to write back to her.

“I meant like, would you like some fancy ink? I saved up some money from my allowance and can get some good ink from the store if you would prefer it?”

‘How…generous of you, (y/n)’

“thank you :)”

Tom took a very long moment to respond, as if he was thinking long and hard about her offer. Finally, after a few minutes, he wrote back-though he did so while (y/n) was getting dressed for her outing to Hogsmeade, putting on an oversized sweater for maximum comfort.

‘I suppose it couldn’t hurt if you brought the diary along, I certainly don’t mind good inks to write with, I myself was never able to afford more than the most basic brands.’

(y/n) tilted her head a bit, a smile growing on her face. Tom was opening up to her a bit! Okay-play it cool-don’t overreact.

“aww really?”

‘I don’t need your pity (y/n)’

Oops.

“not pity! Im sorry! Just…idk”

‘What in the merlin does ‘idk’ mean?’

“Oh-I don’t know-its an abbreviation.”

‘Why don’t you just write ‘I don’t know’, it’s not hard?’

“idk, just easier.”

She felt like she could hear him sigh, which made her giggle and she finished getting dressed before writing to him again.

“okay okay, im going to go eat, ill be back to grab you before everyone heads out to Hogsmeade.”

Tom didn’t respond so (y/n) closed the diary and put it back on her bedside table, capping her ink well and cleaning her quill before leaving her room, heading out to the great hall for breakfast.

-

Hogsmeade, thankfully, took the rest of the events from the night before off (y/n)’s mind as she went from store to store, starting at the book store and writing down ink brands and types to Tom, who eventually picked out a non-expensive India ink, but it was definitely more costly than the usual ink she got.

She closed the diary and put it back in her bag, taking the new ink to the front and buying it, the shopkeep wrapping it in paper and then giving it to her in a paper bag.

She counted how much money she had left as she walked down the main path of the village, nodding to herself as she pocketed the coins. She had enough to do someday after Halloween candy shopping.

She hopped straight into Honeydukes, where loads of other students were buying their own discounted candy, and quickly got some candies that were under the discount.

Including a bag of candy corn, and it was the type made in shop-which was even better.

“What is it with you and candy corn (n/n)?” one of her friends that had accompanied her to Hogsmeade asked teasingly, attempting to steal one of the candies (y/n) had bought.

“It’s good!” (y/n) defended the candy, holding the box to her chest. She knew candy corn wasn’t a worldly liked candy-but it was hers and her dad's favorite, so it not only tasted good to her, but it also was nostalgic.

(y/n)’s friend snickered, taking a caramel apple lollipop from (y/n)’s bag full of discounted Halloween candy. (y/n) rolled her eyes, the two catching up with the rest of their friends, hanging out at the three broomsticks for a while before heading back to the castle.

Upon getting back to her dorm room, (y/n) poured out the candy onto her bed and spread it out, sorting it and eating a few pieces here and there as she separated the chocolates from the hard candies, and the lollipops from the taffy.

She took out the diary and the new well of ink, opening the wax around it and setting it aside, testing the ink on her actual notebook before writing to Tom.

“back from Hogsmeade! Using the new ink as well :)”

‘I can tell, it’s far smoother than the ink you were using before.’

“I’m glad you like it! I also got a lot of candy from honeydukes, they were having a day after Halloween sale, I got nearly 5 pounds of candy for one galleon.”

‘Sweet tooth?’

“big one.”

(y/n) smiled brightly as she continued her conversation with Tom, which turned to her asking Tom what his favorite candy was…is.

‘I haven't tried much candy if I must be honest, though I do like treacle tarts.’

“yum, those are pretty good”

“great now Im craving treacle tart thanks Tom.”

‘You’re welcome, (y/n)’

­-

(y/n) happily painted on some Slytherin green and silver face paint onto her cheeks, today was the first quidditch game of the year, and the Slytherin team had gotten a new seeker-the spoiled as fuck Draco Malfoy, who everyone knew bribed his way in but he still wasn’t a terrible flyer-and brand new brooms.

The whole Slytherin house was excited, ready to win the first match of the season against Gryffindor, since they hadn’t won a game against Gryffindor since Harry Potter joined the team the year before.

“You almost ready (y/n)?!” her friend called from the bathroom as she herself finished her makeup.

“Yeah!” (y/n) said, hopping to her feet after pulling away from her desk mirror. “I’m all done!” she wrapped a scarf around her neck and hooked her arm with her friends and they all went down to the quidditch pitch together, the roar of excitement already humming through the stands.

The game started quickly after that and it was exciting! The Slytherins were walloping the Gryffindors easily-quickly overtaking them 90-30. (y/n) whistled and cheered for her team, throwing her fists into the air with each score. “Woah what the fuck?!” she heard her friend suddenly exclaim and (y/n) turned to see where she was looking, her brows furrowing as a bludger began to deliberately chase Harry Potter.

“Is that a rouge bludger??” (y/n) said, her lip curling in confusion. “What the hell they’re like-impossible to tamper??” (y/n) and her friend stopped paying attention to the game as a whole, watching in near horror as Harry was chased around by a bludger.

The Weasley twins tried to bat it away from him but it kept coming back.

“that’s not good-we should tell a teacher-“ (y/n) stuttered, turning to head off the stands, maybe catch Madam Hooch’s attention and stop the game before someone got hurt. (y/n)’s friend nodded and followed her through the crowd of Slytherins and down the stands.

Just as they reached Madam Hooch, the bludger had slammed into Harry’s arm as he reached for the snitch and he hit the dirt soon after; though he had the snitch in hand, Gryffindor had won the game. “Oh shit,” (y/n) muttered under her breath, looking at Harrys very broken arm, as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, ending the game.

The Weasley twins somehow caught the tampered bludger, getting it back into the box and locking it down. Madam Hooch instantly saw to it, and while that all happened-the idiot Lockhart…erm…mended Harry’s arm.

“Ew,” (y/n) muttered as her friend gagged at the rubber look Harry’s arm had taken. Lockhart hadn’t mended shit; he’d removed Harry’s bones!

“That is so nasty,” (y/n)’s friend muttered, and (y/n) nodded in agreement, heading back to the castle after Headmaster Dumbledore told everyone the match was over and to head back to the castle while Harry, and any other injured players, went to Madam Pomfrey.

“Gotta be honest, Gryffindor deserved that win, I mean-odds stacked against them, with those new brooms and that bloody bludger, they won. Shame Potter’s arm got broken for it though.” (y/n)’s friend ranted as they walked back to the common room, (y/n) nodding in agreement. “I have to wonder who tampered the bludger? I mean Madam Hooch checks them right before the game, and if it wasn’t tampered then, how could’ve someone hexed it within the minutes before the game began?”

(y/n) shrugged as her friend continued to rant. “Maybe someone tampered with it mid-game? Because it wasn’t doing it at first, if it was tampered with before the game-it would’ve gone after Harry straight away? Wouldn’t it?” (y/n) suggested, walking into the common room after several other students and her friend nodded, tapping her chin.

“That does sound logical, though I’m not sure how or why anyone would do that, I mean-he’s just a 12-year-old kid? Who’d want to charm a bloody iron magic ball to hurt him?” (y/n) shrugged in response to her friend's rhetorical question.

“Someone fucked up,” (y/n) answered anyway and her friend sighed, the two entering their dorm room. Her friend went to wipe the Slytherin-themed makeup off her face while (y/n) went to her bed and grabbed the diary.

“Potter almost got killed by a bludger at the quidditch match today.”

(y/n) could almost feel the sense of ‘!!?!?!’ from Tom as he hurriedly wrote back to her.

‘Who starts a conversation like that? also what? how? I never liked Quidditch but I’m sure those Quidditch gear chests are impossible to get into?’

“that’s what I said, I think someone jinxed it mid game because it wasn’t going after him at first.”

‘How odd. And it was going after Potter specifically?’

“yeah! Only him, the Weasley twins kept batting it away from him but it would go right back after Potter. Its really weird.”

‘I cannot tell you it isn’t, because it is very odd.’

“yeah”

(y/n) perked up as her friend came back out of the bathroom. “I’m going to go get lunch, you coming?” her friend asked and (y/n) nodded.

“Yeah, lemme just wash my face,” (y/n) said, looking back down at the diary and telling Tom she had to go, setting the book down on the bedside table and going into the bathroom to wash her face.

-

(y/n) woke up very late that night, a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes, feeling kinda nauseous. She groaned lightly, realizing she’d fallen off her bed, her head pounding as she attempted to get up, pressing her palms to her eyes as they ached.

“What the fuck,” she muttered, rubbing her face. She’d never fallen off her bed before, but considering the odd dream she had-she wasn’t surprised. She eventually got to her feet after the nausea had passed and climbed back into bed, yawning.

She laid back down, but couldn’t get back to sleep. Her mind kept going back to that odd dream. She had been walking through the halls of Hogwarts, at what seemed to be a late hour, and went into one of the bathrooms and…spoke a strange language-a hissing language, and the…sink had come apart??? After that she woke up, having fallen off her bed mid weird dream.

She huffed and drew the curtains around her bed, grabbing her wand, the diary, and her quill. “Lumos,” (y/n) murmured and the tip of her wand began to glow and she opened the diary, flipping through pages and pages of notes, and doodles.

She dipped her quill and began to write to Tom.

“I fell out of my bed,”

‘And why is that so important to tell me? It’s late I’m sure, you should be asleep.’

“you’re right but I cant get back to sleep, I had a weird dream and woke up after falling out of my bed, which ive never done”

“or at least I havent done since I was a kid?”

‘Interesting. What was your dream about if I may ask?’

(y/n) wrote down what she remembered from the dream, and then added a small detail she hadn’t realized till now.

“it felt like I was having an out of body experience, or like I was watching through someone elses eyes? You get what I mean?”

‘I suppose I do, though im sure there’s nothing to worry about, everyone has odd dreams sometimes.’

“have you ever had an odd dream?”

‘Yes, I’m not divulging that information though, you’ll tease me relentlessly about it.’

“no I wont!”

(y/n) huffed as Tom didn’t respond, and she could imagine the expression of ‘sure you wont’ on his face. She wished she knew wha the looked like…wait maybe she could find him in the gallery! He did say he was a prefect in his time, maybe there was a picture somewhere of the 1942-1943 prefects.

“you’re no fun.”

‘Go to sleep (y/n),’

“fiiiine, goodnight Tom.”

‘Goodnight, (y/n)’

-

“A first year got petrified?!” (y/n) asked in a hushed tone, her eyes wide as she gripped her friend's hand tightly as they walked to breakfast Monday morning.

“Yeah, apparently it happened Saturday night, or well, early Sunday morning if you think about it that way-but Professor Dumbledore found him in the middle of the night-just-stone still, petrified.” (y/n)’s friend rambled and (y/n) frowned, squeezing her friend’s hand tighter.

Early Sunday morning…she’d had that weird dream and fell out of her bed Sunday morning.

“What time did the first year get petrified?” (y/n) asked and her friend shrugged.

“Dunno, I’m only telling you what I heard from the grapevine, all I know is Sunday morning, a first year got petrified.” (y/n) huffed nervously in response, swallowing harshly, that weird feeling of paranoia returning to her gut.

Just a coincidence, just a coincidence. It had to be; besides, she’d just fallen out of her bed this time, she hadn’t sleepwalked, she hadn’t even left her dorm room.

…right?

-

“I’m leaving.” (y/n) huffed as dumbass Lockhart came onto the long dueling stage that was set up lengthwise in the great hall, replacing the house tables. Her friend grabbed her arm as she attempted to escape, tugging her towards the edge of the stage-making them be front and center.

“Oh, come on (y/n)~ it’ll be fun!” her friend said cheerfully, she’d didn’t understand why (y/n)…disliked ‘Professor’ Lockhart, even thinking he was hot.

It was one of the few things (y/n) vehemently disagreed with her on.

“it’ll be cringe as fuck that’s what it’ll be.” (y/n) grumbled, crossing her arms as she pouted. She expected maybe Professor Flitwick to be the head of the dueling club, but noooo it had to be the obvious fake Lockhart.

Though-Professor Snape had agreed to…help Lockhart in a demonstration, and that, was going to be fun.

(y/n) couldn’t help the peal of laughter that came from her as Snape sent Lockhart across the dueling stage, her friend gasping as Lockhart landed with a thump. “Is he okay?” her friend asked and (y/n) just snickered with the rest of the Slytherin members of the club.

“Who cares? That was funny.” (y/n) chuckled, smirking as her friend gave her a glare. After that everyone got paired into groups, Lockhart nearly putting the little 1st and 2nd years with the 5th and 6th years attending, Snape correcting that mistake and putting (y/n) against a fellow 6th-year Slytherin, though (y/n) hardly knew his name.

“Remember, disarm only!” Lockhart said and (y/n) rolled her eyes, bowing her to dueling partner with her wand at her side and then holding it out in front of her, her other arm over her head for balance.

The dueling began moments later, and spells shot out of their wands every other moment. (y/n) began with the disarming charm, expelliarmus, but her opponent blocked it and returned with a Stupefy. (y/n) went to block but it felt like she wasn’t in control of herself anymore, she stepped to the side-avoiding the spell-and held out her wand in a grip that wasn’t her own.

“Relashio!” With a wave of her wand her dueling opponent was forced to drop their wand and then (y/n) twirled her wand again. “Depulso!” A blast of white magic flew towards her dueling opponent and they flew back, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

There was an intense satisfaction that ran deep in her bones for a split moment, and an odd feeling to finish her opponent off-but that quickly went away and (y/n) pocketed her wand, rushing over to her dueling partner. “Are you okay?” (y/n) asked, offering her hand and her dueling partner chuckled painfully, rubbing their lower back as she helped them stand.

“I’m okay-that was wicked casting though,” (y/n) only nodded in response, licking her teeth as the dueling groups were stopped, a green haze in the air from the dueling 2nd years. She began to leave the great hall as Potter and Malfoy began to duel, only stopping when she heard a strange hissing coming from the stage.

She turned, the hissing sounding too familiar, coming from Potter as he…hissed at a black snake? Her ears began to ring, her vision going a bit blurry as she stared at Potter, the boy hissing at the snake before Snape destroyed it.

What the fuck?

That was the same hissing she’d heard in her dream on Sunday.

-end of p3-

im very happy with this part and i hope you guys are too-taglist!!!

@dracosslxt4eva @dream-your-own-way @slaggylemon

@slytherinbackintomyroom @starryhiraeth @larallott

[aloysiavirgata]

She walks in beauty, like the night

Scully in the simplest, blackest silk. Scully pale, moon-kissed, vulnerable. Scully’s hair and eyes like where the stars are born.

***

Scully comes to him when even the moon is all but asleep, like a single calla lily from a secret admirer. Unbidden. Unexpected.

Unparalleled.

“Mulder,” she says, outside his open door, in a negligee that last shade of sky blue before it goes pitch black.

Spaghetti straps and a low décolletage, though not shockingly low. Lace trim, mid thigh. It looks like something Katharine Hepburn would wear to slap you.

Not you. Him.

Specifically him.

She looks up at him through her heavy-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes.

He stares at her for his own sake because deep in his 12 year old heart, no one would ever, ever, believe that nerdy Fox Muld-

Scully takes another step closer onto the sad oatmeal carpet of his hotel room. She has such pretty ankles, she has such pretty calves. She smells like honeysuckle and hot bike tires and buttery lobster rolls and the sweetest, purest moments of his life.

She tips her face up to him, Agent Scully does, all eyes and lips and cheekbones like a geometric proof.

“God,” he says. And he means it.

***

LA belongs to the sun and Scully is a San Diego baby but he knows, he knows, she is an East Coast girl at heart. He knows she loves the first retinal purple-orange sunrises of America and the first sapphire kisses of night. He knows she loves the stars by which her father learned to navigate. He knows she loves the distant moon.

He knows she loves blue crabs and wool duffel coats and khaki shorts and aspires to East Hampton in her most secret, silent heart.

One day he will make love to her in London because she will, he knows, hark to the call of the City. She is a creature of old stone and lichen and liminal space.

She is the answer to Samson’s riddle.

***

He’d rented a jet black ‘57 Chevy Bel Air because Christ, this girl. Abductions and cancer and the most awful brutality and stolen ova and Christ; this brilliant, moonbeam girl.

She sees the car and she says nothing. But her eyes, her eyes. Her Star of India eyes.

Scully sees the car and she smiles, shy. Scully squeezes his hand.

***

He fucks her - hard, desperate - in the Chevy out over Mullholland and she cries out for him because even Saint Teresa writhed in ecstasy.

He kisses her the way a mariner kisses his homeland soil because she is his human credential. He kisses her like a Torah scroll. He shudders, murmurs I love you, I love you into the hot, sweet dark of her mouth.

***

She is bleeding, just a little. She is bleeding in the warm caress of a Southern California night. She is bleeding as though she were a virgin and maybe she is; maybe there is sex and there is fucking and there is making love and there is This.

Are you there, god? It’s me, Dana.

She touches his sleeping rosebud lips. She touches his funny nose and his beautiful jaw and she doesn’t say I love you aloud like he had because she’d learned it was shameful. She’d learned to salute.

But it’s 3 AM, neither properly morning nor properly night. It’s 3 AM and she isn’t LA pretty, not by a long shot, but she’s here with him, with Mulder, who is very LA pretty and has money besides.

She’s too short and too pale and her nose is patrician rather than cute and she gets burnt instead of tan. She doesn’t laugh in the right places at movies. She likes copper because it burns green, she likes moths more than butterflies, she can quote Jane Austen’s most acerbic lines.

She thinks of Mulder swimming hard across the Vineyard tides, Mulder with his cinnamon skin in the whipped cream breakers. Riding a red fixed-gear along Lake Tashmoo, tugging his tiny sister along. Mulder basking on the beach like a young god of summer. Mulder with his heart afire like Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Her father is dead and look, look Mulder has such a tender soul even if he’s Jewish and atheist, Daddy. Mulder has eyes like fern moss.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears, her eyes bright as the newest stars.

[morsmordream]

my random HP family headcanons that i firmly stand by

(not canon compliant)

creature blood was remarkably common in the older family lines that existed before modern-day laws. it is rather rare that these families produce true creatures themselves, even half-blooded creatures, but the blood can often manifest into family gifts. for example, creature blood is how the slytherin line have their ability to speak parseltongue.

the black family are world-renowned in various fields. they’ve produced countless scholars, and some of the finest duellists of each generation. but the family specialty, that everyone learns, is curse-breaking and it’s inverse. there’s a terrible item in the family vault that could kill you if you touch it? contact the blacks. you need an object enchanted to persuade someone into supporting a wizengamot bill? contact the blacks. expensive as their services may be, it’s always worth the money. customer satisfaction guaranteed.

the black family have held their reputation for dabbling in the darkest of arts, even black magic, since their very beginning. their family name comes from their reputation of practicing black magic. this is separate from dark magic, and is a dead art today. whilst books exist in the darkest corners of very few family’s vaults and libraries, the sacrifices required have deterred anyone who picked them up for centuries. a branch of black magic involves the summoning of beings from beyond our world, ‘demons’ as they are often referred to. the summoning of a shape-shifting demon, and subsequent procreation with, is a potential reason why only the black family have metamorphmagi in britain today- though this claim is unproven, and no longer proudly claimed by the family itself.

the malfoys have veela blood, especially these days. it was a rather scandalous affair when abraxas malfoy married a french witch, amelie bonnacord, who had been adopted into a notable pureblood family and happened to be a veela. the malfoys already had distant veela ancestry, making abraxas resistant to the veela allure. their children, lucius and lydia malfoy, were therefore half veela, and her grandchildren, including draco malfoy, a quarter veela. the veela allure seemed to work differently with men, and little was known about it as men born to those with veela blood was rare. the malfoys spend most holiday seasons in france, visiting family, and all speak fluent french.

the potter family never have been, and never should be seen as, a sparkling beacon for light magic. as necromancers by blood, no matter how much time passes since their amalgamation with the peverells, they naturally lean towards darker magic to facilitate practicing the art. not every potter has dabbled in their family gift, it’s not a requirement, but the ancient books in the family vault cannot be destroyed and will always return to the vault after a necromancer passes.

a few centuries into the past, the potter family migrated to india before a couple of branches returned to britain in the early 20th century. fleamont potter and his cousin, charlus potter, were the first potters to be born on british soil for centuries. fleamont potter married euphemia patil, a half-indian british witch, and had james potter. james potter, upon marrying lily evans, had harry potter- who was half indian.

the lupin family have a long history of naturally born werewolves, hence their family name. as time went on, and laws changed, werewolves born into the family would assimilate into packs instead of living as wizards with a dark secret. with time, fewer and fewer werewolves were born into the family, and the werewolf blood appeared dormant. remus lupin became a werewolf through an attack from fenrir greyback- the first werewolf in the family in several generations. his condition did not pass onto his son, but it is possible that remus being a werewolf may awaken the possibility of future werewolves in the lupin line in generations to come.

the weasleys hail from an old irish clan, one which they no longer practice the traditions and magic of- deeming them outdated in an age where they are deemed ‘blood traitors’ for their love and acceptance of muggleborns. the family magic is largely based around the elements, and is only really practiced by bill and charlie- though fred and george dabble in it from time to time. due to turning their backs on tradition, the weasley manor wards refused to grant entry to those in the family who did not practice their family magics- which is why they live in the burrow instead.

the weasleys fall from grace is infamous in pureblood circles. before the first war, they were actually a rather wealthy family. arthur weasley’s auror wage was enough to live off with two less children, and their vault was plentiful. molly added to their income by authoring books on household charms and tutoring pureblood daughters in etiquette. unfortunately, molly encouraged arthur to funnel money into the order of the phoenix to help with the war- they were not active participants, rather financial backers. by the war’s end, the family vault had been halved, they had two more children, and molly had quit authoring books to raise the children. she soon quit tutoring too, turning her back on other pureblood families due to her paranoia that anyone who hadn’t aided the order in the war were all dark and thus contributed somehow to her brothers deaths. soon after, arthur left the aurors and moved to head the misuse of muggle artifices office at molly’s insistence, due to her persistent paranoia- this time that something horrible would befall him as an auror. this caused another significant drop in the family’s finances, gaining them their reputation of being a poor family with more children than they can clothe.

the nott family are descended from viking clansmen in norway, and the majority of the family are still based there today. they’re very proud of this heritage, and every child born into the family is trained extensively in hand to hand combat from a young age. the nott family additional pre-schooling education also includes the language of old norse, nordic history, ancient runes, and runic magic. the england-based branch of the family add norwegian on to this as well.

the gaunt line, and subsequently the slytherin line, are only extinct in britain (the cursed child is not canon to me idc about delphini). a branch of the family, descended from one ominis gaunt, live on in france and have long abandoned their practices of inbreeding. the branch or branches of the family that remained on british soil rapidly squandered all that remained in their vaults by the turn of the 20th century, leading the family to financial and societal ruin with only their heritage and a few heirlooms remaining intact.

the lovegood family are rather notable as one of the few remaining seer lines in britain. pandora lovegood, upon marrying xenophilius ollivander, found her own seer ability passed down to her daughter luna. many overlook their seer lineage and focus more on the family’s eccentricity, forgetting that true seers rarely speak in plain language- they cannot always just speak the truth of what their visions show them, they must relay what they have seen in a way that makes others search for the answer. it’s not that hard to understand when you actually try it.

[tiredwitchplant]

Everything You Need to Know About Crystals: Bloodstone

Bloodstone (The Blood of Purification)

Color: Green with bright red splatter. Some have white mixed in

Rarity: Easy to obtain

Hardiness: 7

Type: Chalcedony

Chakra Association: Root, Heart, Solar Plexus, and Sacral

Deities: Brigid, Dione, Persephone, Christ (believed to be his blood in Christian mythology)

Birthstone: March

Astrological Signs: Aries, Pisces, Libra

Element: Fire

Planet: Mars

Origin: Australia, Brazil, China, India, USA

Powers: Open Doors and Remove Walls, Prosperity, Strength, Courage, Purification, Vitality

Crystals It Works Well With: Red jasper, Black Tourmaline, Hematite, Amethyst

How It is Created: Bloodstone is a variety of chalcedony quartz with a distinctive dark green color combined with specks and clumps of red jasper inclusions

History: The distinct blood red marks within the stone are often used for talismans because it is believed that the stone protect one from evil spirits. In medieval times, it was believed the blood specks came from the blood of Christ while he was being crucified as his blood dripped down onto the rocks. Legends such as the tale of Percival, one of King Arthur’s knights who went on the quest for the Holy Grail, illustrate the combined qualities of bloodstone. Percival was a knight trained in the physical aspects of combat, but his quest took him into the spiritual realms, teaching him lessons about illusion and the power of unconditional love. In ancient times, it was believed that this stone could heal, banish negativity, and guide people who were lost. It was worn by warriors on their arms to help heal wounds during battle and to stop the bleeding quickly. It was also worn on the breast of a warrior to feel them with courage and strength. It was said to keep their morals high, even after very heavy casualties.

What It Can Do:

Banish evil spirits and negativity

Heal wounds and one’s mental state

Used to draw money and increase wealth

Clams fear and anger

Ensures victories in legal battles

Balances and ground the energy in one’s heart to promote action

Gives courage and teaches on how to avoid dangerous situations

Heal the ancestral line

Benefits blood-rich organs, regulates and supports blood-flow, and aids in circulation

Egyptians believed it shrank tumors

How to Get the Best Out Of: Wearing it as a bracelet or something on the arm area and a necklace near the heart is a great way to utilize bloodstone to its full potential as it works well near the bloodstream and blood-rich organs like the heart.

How to Cleanse and Charge: Cleanse it by running it under water or bury it in your garden for a deeper clean. Charge it by placing it under a full moon or using green and red candles around it.

Crystal Grid:

General Well Being

Layout: Lemniscate

1 clearing crystal

1 light-bringing crystal

1 immune-balancing crystal

Crystals to Use:

Bloodstone

Green Aventurine

Que Sera (Llanoite)

Quantum Quattro

Cherry, Rose, Smoky, or Emerald Quartz

Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

Lie down.

Place a clearing crystal beneath your feet (sit up to do so).

Place a light-bringing crystal above your head.

Place an immune-balancing crystal halfway up your breastbone over the

higher heart chakra.

Use the power of your mind to connect the lemniscate over and around you.

Remain in the grid for five to fifteen minutes, focusing your attention and breathing gently

into the immune-balancing crystal. If you become aware of energy that needs to shift out of

your body, send it down to the crystal at your feet for transmutation.

Remove the crystals in the reverse order in which you laid them, then cleanse them

Heart and Immune System

Layout: Lemniscate

1 grounding crystal for the feet

1 pinkish-burgundy crystal or immune stimulator

1 emerald-green crystal or immune soother

Crystals to Use:

Emerald

Emerald Quartz

Fuchsite

Cherry Quartz

Rose Quartz

Ruby

Garnet

Green Aventurine

Lepidolite

Bloodstone

Que Sera

Quantum Quattro

Hematite Quartz

Hold your crystals in your hands and state your intention for the grid.

Sit down on the floor.

Place a grounding crystal at your feet.

Lie down fully.

Place one crystal above the heart on the higher heart

(thymus) chakra.

Place one over the heart seed at the base of the breastbone.

Check your heartbeat—it will quickly indicate which crystal should be placed above, and which below. If your heartbeat feels too rapid or is pounding heavily, or if it feels too slow and heavy, switch the crystals around.

Use the power of your mind or a crystal wand to trace the lemniscate, crossing the circles over your heart.

If dizziness results, breathe deeply and send the energy down toward the crystal at your feet for transmutation.

When the layout is complete, remove the crystals in the reverse order in which you laid them. Stand up slowly and ground yourself by stamping your feet.

Sources

[sh1-n0bu]

my issue with the natlan characters being white (color, not ethnicity) is that

1: it doesn't make sense from a environmental standpoint. If they're based on all these places with more sun, wouldn't the natlan genetic pool have adapted so that those in hotter places have darker skin? for example: Mexico, Africa, India, any other country on the equator? (Not including European integration)

2: why blend all these cultures of color beautifully (i was so looking forward to an aztec based region) just to put a pale person in their place? We *know* they can put poc characters in their games. We have plenty of colored npcs, Arlan in Hsr, and even the eremites.

And 3: I saw an edit of the main three people have been upset about with darker skin (the green and black guy, little Geo girl, and white haired hydro girl) AND I COULDN'T EVEN TELL THEY WERE EDITED UNTIL I READ THE CAPTION. They were gorgeous, truly. The truth is, genshin's sales in other countries would spike if they made these new characters darker. There would be that much more representation, opening the community to others who would grow the community

Tldr: There's no reason to make these characters pale other than origin country specific beauty standards. Everyone, and I mean everyone, no matter poc or not, should refrain from spending money on genshin for the foreseeable future. It will be difficult to those used to buying their primogems, especially with the new Nilou skin dropping, (looking at you, whales) but we gotta.

And come on, the new Kirara skin can totally hold us over

exactly! hoyoverse CAN make darker skin tone but they just DON’T want to. a few example images i’ve gotten from the enemies

every enemy we have came across have a darker shade of skin than the playable ones. even the fatui enemy has a darker/ombre type of shade of skin color. and from what i’ve seen the new enemies in natlan had darker skin tone than these ones. i have another point i have forgotten to mention in my latest post answering abt the natlan situation and this may seem like a huge stretch but hear me out.

we all know and have heard of the ‘big black beast’ writing racism right? how media will portray POC as the aggressor, enemy, the wrong side, the abuser, the pet etc etc. basically using a character’s skin tone to hide their racism. and please take this with a bag of salt as i may be reading too deep into it here, but isn’t it odd how the enemies always end up having a darker shade of skin? not just entirely POC but south asian ones too.

paimon and traveler have always been shown to be wary of or even downright afraid of every darker skinned character they meet in sumeru. eremites are darker skinned and have POC features (dreadlocks), the new enemies shown in natlan trailer does as well (dark skin and POC feature like dreadlock). its almost as if they’re trying to do the ‘big black beast’ racism in writing thing

[alpaca-clouds]

Colonialism never ended

Okay, let me talk about one thing that a lot of white folks don't quite seem to realize. And that is the fact that colonialism never really ended.

Like, the official telling of it was: "Oh, yeah, after world war 2 the colonizing nations realized it was wrong." Or, if it is more honest, then: "Yeah, after world war 2 the colonizing empires were out of money to uphold her colonies." But even that still very much is a total lie. We still live under colonialism - both settler colonialism and extractionist colonialism.

Probably the easiest way to realize, we still have settler colonialism in place, is to look at the amount of land that never was in any way or form given back to the indigenous folks who once called it their home. No, they do not get to live there again. And also, no, they will not see a penny of the money that might be extracted from their former homes through development, agriculture or for example oil extraction.

In the US the state that shows it maybe the strongest is Hawai'i, in which indigenous folks are more and more pushed away from where they were living and praying, as parts of the island get used for tourism, rich people homes, military stuff or maybe a nice observatory on one of their sacret sights. More and more indigenous Hawai'ians are forced to move away from Hawai'i. Because through the rich folks and their development, they cannot afford to live on their own islands any longer.

We also see it through extractions. I already spoke about the land in the USA, but the same is happening in so many other places. A lot of land (especially mines) all over Africa are still owned by white people directly or indirectly. So they will still, to this day, extract the wealth from it.

Or, heck, we have all those exotic fruit plantages all over the tropical regions. Like how the US literally overthrew a government to keep the banana productions going and keeping it in white people hands.

Or there is of course the fact that the fucking lines onf the maps we have now have been drawn by white people, artificially grouping people together, who might not even be from the same culture. Something that often instabilized nations - an outcome that was very clearly intended, to make it easier to control and extract value from the nations in question.

Just look at the entire thing with the Sykes-Picot-agreement, that is responsible for so many of the wars happening in the Arabian world right now. Or at the division of India, that was and still is cause for so much violence.

And of course, while Slavery is officially outlawed, the US kinda contructed its justice system all around keeping it further going. By criminalizing Black people for all sorts of stuff and then making unpaid prison labor legal.

Colonialism is still going strong. And really, whenever western nations go crying about China's neocolonialism, what they are really crying about is, that it loosens their own colonialist control over them. Not that there is colonialism happening at all.

And we cannot have a just world, until we fully decolonize and until reparations are paid for the evils that have happened for now five hundred years.

This is also, why we cannot have anything in terms of solarpunk futures, until we decolonize. Because solarpunk aims for a just world. A just world that cannot exist unter colonialism.

[reality-detective]

WIRES>]; ATTACK ON ISRAEL WAS A FALSE FLAG EVENT

_Israel with over 10,000 Spys in the military imbedded inside IRAN. Saudi Arabia and world Militaries.... Israels INTELLIGENCE Agencies, including MOSSAD which is deeply connected to CIA, MI6 .. > ALL knew the Hamas was going to attack Israel several weeks before and months ago including several hours before the attack<

_The United States knew the attack was coming was did Australia, UK. Canada, EU INTELLIGENCE...... Several satellites over Iran, Israel, Palestine and near all captured thousands of troops moving towards Israel all MAJOR INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES knew the attack was coming and news reporters (Israeli spys) in Palestine all knew the attack was coming and tried to warn Israel and the military///// >

>EVERYONE KNEW THE ATTACK WAS COMING,, INCLUDING INDIA INTELLIGENCE WHO TRIED TO CONTACT ISRAEL ( but Israel commanders and President blocked ALL calls before the attack)

_WARNING

>This attack on Israel was an inside Job, with the help of CIA. MOSSAD, MI6 and large parts of the funding 6 billion $$$$$$$ from U.S. to Iran funded the operations.

_The weapons used came from the Ukraine Black market which came from NATO,>the U.S.

The ISRAELI President and Prime minister Netanyahu ALL STOOD DOWN before the attacks began and told the Israeli INTEL and military commanders to stand down<

___

There was no intelligence error. Israeli intensionally let the stacks happen<

_______

FOG OF WAR

Both the deep state and the white hats wanted these EVENTS to take place.

BOTH the [ ds] and white hats are fighting for the future control of ISRAEL

SOURCES REPORT> " INSIDE OF ISRAELI BANKS , INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES AND UNDERGROUND BASES LAY THE WORLD INFORMATION/DATA/SERVERS ON HUMAN TRAFFICKING WORLD OPERATIONS CONNECTED TO PEDOPHILE RINGS.

]> [ EPSTEIN] was created by the MOSSAD

with the CIA MI6 and EPSTEIN got his funding from MOSSAD who was Ghislaine Maxwells father> Israeli super spy Robert Maxwell_ ( who worked for, cia and mi6 also)/////

____

The past 2 years in Israel the military has become divided much like the U.S. military who are losing hope in the government leaders and sectors. Several Revolts have tried to start but were ended quickly.

🔥 Major PANIC has been hitting the Israeli INTEL, Prime minister and military commanders community as their corruption and crimes keep getting EXPOSED and major PANIC is happening as U S. IS COMING CLOSER TO DROPPING THE EPSTEIN FILES. EPSTEIN LIST AND THE MAJOR COUNTRIES WHO DEALT WITH EPSTEIN> ESPECIALLY ISRAEL WHO CREATED EPSTEIN w/cia/mi6

_

_

____

Before EPSTEIN was arrested, he was apprehended several times by the military intelligence ALLIANCE and he was working with white hats and gave ALL INFORMATION ON CIA. MI6 . MOSSAD. JP MORGAN. WORLD BANKS. GATES. ETC ETC ECT EX ECT E TO X..>> ISRAEL<<BIG TECH

GOOGLE. FACEBOOK YOUTUBE MICROSOFT and their connection to world deep state cabal military intelligence and world control by the Elites and Globalist,<

_

This massive coming THE STORM is scaring the CIA. MOSSAD KAZARIAN MAFIA. MI6 ETC ECT . ect etc AND THEY ARE TRYING TO DESTROY ALL THE MILITARY INTELLIGENCE EVIDENCE INSIDE ISRAEL AND UNDERGROUND BUNKERS TO CONCEAL ALL THE EVIDENCE OF THE WORLD HUMAN TRAFFICKING TRADE

_ THE WORLD BIG TECH FACEBOOK GOOGLE YOUTUBE CONTROL

_THE WORLD MONEY LAUNDERING SYSTEM THAT IS CONNECTED FROM ISRAEL TO UKRAINE TO THE U S. TO NATO UN. U.S. INDUSTRIAL MILITARY COMPLEX SYSTEM

MAJOR PANIC IS HAPPENING IN ISRAEL AS THE MILITARY WAS PLANNING A 2024 COUP IN ISRAEL TO OVER THROW THE DEEP STATE MILITARY AND REGIMEN THAT CONNECTED TO CIA.MI6 > CLINTON'S ROCKEFELLERS.>>

( Not far from where Jesus once walked.... The KAZARIAN Mafia. The cabal, dark Families began the practice of ADRENOCHROME and there satanic rituals to the god of moloch god of child sacrifice ..

Satanism..... This is why satanism is pushed through the world and world shopping centers and music and movies...)

- David Wilcock

Something definitely doesn't seem right and destroying evidence has been going on for a long time, think Oklahoma City bombing, 9/11's building 7 and even Waco Texas was about destroying evidence. Is this possible? Think about it and you decide. 🤔

[misalpav]

ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.

also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?

anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)

yemito ee maya

Two years after Governor Scott's death

Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.

“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)

He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.

“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)

As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.

“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)

The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.

The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him. 

At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night. 

Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.

The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him. 

“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.

Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading. 

“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)

That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went. 

Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”

---

(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿

open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena

I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3

[advanced-imbecile-art]

Since I'm slowly making some Special Forces OCs, I realized making one is probably kind of daunting for most people due to all the Military stuff so here's a very loose collection of thoughts on the structure of the Special Forces.

Cause after all, what's a Black Dragon without an Special Forces Agent to hunt them down?

So to start, if you know anything about the military, the Special Forces is weird. A US Military task force started to fight international crime gangs? That's more the wheelhouse of other agencies like the CIA and INTERPOL I feel, but I digress because I'm here to make some sense of the Earthrealm Special Forces (ESF) since I think that's the era most people would be interesting in making an OC for the organization and I hope what I write here will give some of you enough insight to feel confident developing one or two.

First we'll cover some boring shit that won't really affect the day to day of your average ESF troop. Normally, federal troops are incredibly restricted on what the can and can't do to enforce domestic policies on US soil per The Posse Comitatus Act. However, given it's focus is responding to otherworldly threats to the US and the world at large, there is likely legislation that has been passed and carve outs made for Special Forces to operate in this capacity and still be part of the Department of Defense. There is likely a congressional panel that provides civilian oversight to ESF, hence all of Sonya Blade's references to a particular congressman during MKX. He's likely in charge of that oversight committee which can do things like hold hearings about what ESF has been up to to ensure they are operating within the bounds of their assigned responsibilities and not wasting taxpayer money.

Now onto the stuff you'll really want to know for your potential troop. Starting with some general military structure knowledge. The most important thing you need to know is there are two main groups in the military. Your Officers and your Enlisted. Officers are your captains, Lts, Colonels. They're the managers of the forces. Every group and subgroup within the military will generally have an Officer in charge of it to manage it. Sometimes they're assigned to do actual tasks, but generally they're in charge of the far more numerous Enlisted doing the tasks. Enlisted are the real work force of the military. These are the guys getting called Private, Arimen, Seamen, Sergeant, Petty Officer, ect. They're going to be the guys making up those mobs we seen getting thrown at Outworld's threats. The ones guarding the portal at the refugee site in MKX. For a more in depth break down of that, just search the US Military Rank Structure and you'll get plenty of images breaking down the E and O ranks across the forces.

ESF is most certainly a Special Joint Operation with the US Army making up a good amount of the group given how many grunts we see get mowed down in MK11's opening. This likely means, outside of special cases I'll ponder later, that you do not directly join the ESF. Instead you would join one of the basic military branches (Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and now our new Space Force) or even other agencies like the FBI and CIA and later be selected or be given the opportunity to volunteer for this special mission. Because of this, there are likely very very few junior ranking enlisted in the ESF. Most everyone is likely a Sergeant or Petty Officer for the Enlisted side, and at least a Captain on the Officer side.

The ESF is also certainly an international effort. It's not unusual for certain units and missions to have troops from our allied forces assigned to them. So there's probably a good handful of members from other countries, likely mainly from the Five Eyes partnership of Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the UK, and the US. That said, this is a fantasy land with alternate history so your agent could be from anywhere! Germany, India, whatever you like.

Finally, onto some funky exceptions I imagine exist for the ESF. At this point, I bet you're asking where someone like Johnny Cage falls in all this. On one hand, he could be a Civilian General Schedule. Which is just the term used for Civilians employed by a federal agency like the Department of Defense. Usually referred to as GS on a grade scale similar to how Enlisted and Officers are. He could also be specially contracted to work on behalf of the ESF, but not be directly employed by the Department of Defense. There's a lot of nitty gritty differences here, but what I imagine is most important to you theoretical OC maker, is that a Civilian employee will answer to someone on the Military side. A Contractor would view the ESF more as a customer they are providing a service for.

Finally, I know I said earlier you likely aren't able to directly join the ESF? Well given that they're a suped up kind of X-Files agency, I would bet good money there is a department dedicated to identifying special individuals like meta humans and recruiting them into the ESF. Possibly into small highly specialized units. There's bound to be all sorts of people scattered on Earthrealm with other worldly powers like Johnny Cage and Kenshi have, or perhaps just have a particular skill set or knowledge the ESF may need. Keeping a keen eye on anyone who might already be recruited into the military, but also identifying anyone who could be either useful to the ESF or a threat to Earthrealm if left unchecked. Think like how the X-Men are recruited into Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

That's all I've got for now. Sorry if anything in here doesn't make much sense, but like I said. Late night and loosely organized. I'm more than happy to talk about any of this in more detail if someone has questions.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Alex Bollinger at LGBTQ Nation:

Donald Trump is now claiming that kids in schools are only learning about how to be transgender instead of “reading writing, arithmetic,” which is not true at all.

He made the comments during an interview with Fox Nation’s Kellyanne Conway where she asked about his plans to disband the Department of Education, which would be devastating for the funding of high-needs schools in the U.S. [...] “We’re going to move education back to the states where they can run their educational programs and they’ll do great,” he said. He then said that the U.S. is “last” in education, “we’re the worst” – which isn’t true – and that the U.S. spends more money “than anybody” per student on education, which is true if Luxembourg is excluded, although almost none of that money comes from the federal government. Schools in the U.S. get just under half of their funding from local governments and just under half from state governments.

He then claimed that he “saved” African American students and that he’s “doing great” among Black voters according to polling, which is not true: 79% of likely Black voters say they support Kamala Harris, and only 16% say they support Trump. After rambling for a bit, he promised more state control of education and claimed that education would be better in conservative states like India and Idaho and worse in liberal states like California. He said that states would have full control except, “We’ll have like one person and a secretary sitting there to make sure they have English, okay, they teach…” “We want reading, writing, and arithmetic,” he said. “Right now, you have mostly transgender. Everything’s transgender.”

[...] During his campaign, Trump has repeatedly claimed that schools are turning kids transgender, saying that students leave their homes in the morning and even get surgery while they’re at school before returning home. This is not a mistake in speech; he made this claim during multiple campaign events. He has been fact-checked on this point by multiple news organizations who found it to be false, and his campaign wasn’t even able to cite an example of this happening when asked by CNN.

Lie purveyor Donald Trump went on Kellyanne Conway’s Fox Nation show Here’s The Deal With Kellyanne this week to push the transphobic nonsensical claim that schools are mostly “teaching transgender”.

See Also:

HuffPost: In Interview With Fox Nation's Kellyanne Conway, Donald Trump Tells Unforgivable Whopper About 'Transgender' Classes In School

[no-side-us]

The Invisible Man, Ch. 20 - At The House in Great Portland Street

The whole beginning section of this chapter is really just emphasizing what little attachments Griffin has left before he ultimately turns himself invisible.

"My mind was still on this research, and I did not lift a finger to save his character. I remember the funeral, the cheap hearse, the scant ceremony, the windy frost-bitten hillside, and the old college friend of his who read the service over him—a shabby, black, bent old man with a snivelling cold."

For one, his father's dead, not that Griffin seems to have cared about him anyways. He doesn't say any words nor does he put much care into organizing anything. The funeral is described as "cheap" and "scant," presumably because Griffin wasn't going to spend a majority of his new found money on his own research.

"I remember walking back to the empty house, through the place that had once been a village and was now patched and tinkered by the jerry builders into the ugly likeness of a town. Every way the roads ran out at last into the desecrated fields and ended in rubble heaps and rank wet weeds. I remember myself as a gaunt black figure, going along the slippery, shiny pavement, and the strange sense of detachment I felt from the squalid respectability, the sordid commercialism of the place."

Second, the village Griffin once recognized has been turned into the "ugly likeness of a town" by "jerry builders," people who apparently built cheap homes of poor quality for quick profits. I like the visual description of Griffin as a black figure on shiny pavement to highlight how much he doesn't fit into this new area.

“But going along the High Street, my old life came back to me for a space, for I met the girl I had known ten years since. Our eyes met." "Something moved me to turn back and talk to her. She was a very ordinary person."

I've always been curious by this seemingly ordinary girl Griffin once knew. It seems like the last gasp of Griffin's "old life," the very last thing that might make him feel something for the world around him. The fact he is the one who tries to talk to her makes me think Griffin also understands this a bit. Instead though, he just finds nothing.

"It was all like a dream, that visit to the old places. I did not feel then that I was lonely, that I had come out from the world into a desolate place. I appreciated my loss of sympathy, but I put it down to the general inanity of things. Re-entering my room seemed like the recovery of reality. There were the things I knew and loved. There stood the apparatus, the experiments arranged and waiting. And now there was scarcely a difficulty left, beyond the planning of details."

And finally Griffin enters the small world he does care about, with its experiments and apparatus. I love that one of the few things which brings Griffin joy is all the science and study and experimentation he does.

I don't have much else to say about the rest of this chapter that other people haven't already said, so here are some random thoughts:

“For a moment he gaped. Then he gave a sort of inarticulate cry, dropped candle and writ together, and went blundering down the dark passage to the stairs. I shut the door, locked it, and went to the looking-glass. Then I understood his terror.... My face was white—like white stone."

I don't really understand Griffin's reaction here because if he's an albino shouldn't that mean his face is already very white? I'm assuming that his face is now somehow even more white, or his albinism was more partial and now it's complete.

"Then I slipped up again with a box of matches, fired my heap of paper and rubbish, put the chairs and bedding thereby, led the gas to the affair, by means of an india-rubber tube, and waving a farewell to the room left it for the last time.”

I like that Griffin physically waves farewell to his room before he commits arson against it. Not only is it kind of cute, it also shows how much he cares about both it and all the work he did while he lived there. This is also in contrast to the line earlier during his father's funeral, where he "did not lift a finger" whereas here he'll lift his whole hand.

[realjaysumlin]

Whites live a fantasy of innocence, create death and destruction for people of color | National Catholic Reporter

Let's get one thing straight, everywhere white people have gone death and destruction followed. From Africa to Australia there's a bloodbath of Black Indigenous People globally being destroyed, enslaved and the loss of rights of their own lands, languages, religions and independence.

These are some wicked and disgusting people who are the worst people on earth and yet they want us to view them as good people, I will never see anything good about these shit people until they are dead and gone.

We can't coexist with these shit people, it's impossible to do that. The crimes they committed against us are beyond repair and no amount of money can replace their evilness against innocent people.

Everywhere colonization took place it left our Black Indigenous People in ruins, they only talked about Africa and yet these genocides and enslavement didn't just happen in Africa, it is everywhere these shit people and their Christian religion went.

The disheartening truth is that if some of the Black Indigenous People who fought back these shit people left some of us alone but they made up horrible lies about some of us being cannibals and primitive. India was slammed by the colonizers and left India in ruins the same way they did with Africa, Asia, Australia, America, The South Pacific, Oceania and so on.

Ask them to explain these genocides? You get nothing but denials and lies, because these shit people do nothing but pull shit out of their asses and think that we should accept it as truth. I spent 26 years of my life meeting with the Indigenous Black People who left Africa 60,000 years ago and all of their stories are the same.

How can anyone justify that? There are no words that can describe or defend such evil and atrocious behavior. It's really a wake up call for all humans around the world to attack whiteness and Christianity because this is the shit that is destroying everything on earth.