You were sitting next to Draco in history of magic class. When there popped another button of your shirt. You really need to buy new ones but you still didn’t have time. You looked down at your shirt and saw that you and a little cleavage now. But you didn’t care right now cause you were listening to the teacher. Until you felt a hand on your knee, Dracos hand. You thought nothing of it and just continued listening to the teacher you started making notes so you naturally bend over so you could write easier. Draco was also very focused not on the lesson but on you he had the perfect view of the inside of your shirt. He moved his hand up. You grabbed his hand and placed it on his own leg. And you started writing again. A little later you feel his hand on leg again. His hand got under your skirt. You slapped him away. “Don’t!” You hissed. “Slapping is not nice y/n maybe I should punish you.” He said he watches you swallow and biting your lip. “I know you want me.” He said while putting his hand on your inner thigh. You bite your lip trying not to moan. “It’s hot when you do that.” He whispers in your ear and kissing your neck. “Draco stop.” You stutter. He smirked against your neck you know it was going to get worse. He started sucking and biting your neck. You couldn’t hold it in anymore and moaned his name. Not really loud but the teacher could hear it. “Mr Malfoy and Mrs y/l/n stop that right now!” He yelled looking at us. We separated but he kept his hand on my inner thigh rubbing circles on my skin. “You are a bad girl y/n I would tie you up, kissing you so hard you can’t speak anymore.” He whispers you sigh. “Mrs y/l/n come and sit here next to Mrs Granger.” You stood up Draco slapping you butt before you started to walk. You turn around an looked at him with a surprised look he winks. “Now Mrs y/l/n!” You nodded and sat down next to Hermione. “Mr Malfoy and Mrs y/l/n you both have detention and I am going to meld this to both of the heads of your houses.” You nodded. And followed the rest of the lesson.
On this day in music history: September 30, 1968 - “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf is released. Written by John Kay and Rushton Moreve, the single is the follow up to the bands’ breakthrough smash “Born To Be Wild”. The original 45 version of the song features an alternate lead vocal by John Kay that differs significantly from the stereo LP mix which has a longer running time (4:25 as opposed to the 45 edit running 2:55), and is the version commonly heard today. The song is featured extensively in films and television programs over the years, and today is regarded as one of the quintessential songs of the 60’s. The original mono master tape containing the single version of “Ride” is destroyed in the early 70’s when Dunhill Records’ parent label ABC dumps all of their mono masters into a landfill when the label believes they are of no use or value following the rise in popularity of stereo recordings in the late 60’s. The original single mix appears on the first volume of radio DJ Dick Bartley’s “On The Radio” oldies CD compilation series in 1997. With the original master tape no longer in existence, it is mastered from a clean original 45 vinyl pressing. “Magic Carpet Ride” peaks at #3 on the Billboard Hot 100 on November 30, 1968, and is certified Gold in the US by the RIAA.
Pictured above is the Higdon family. This photograph was taken in the year 1898 in Britain. That is all we know about them.
Who were the Black Victorians? Mainstream history has virtually erased them from our minds and history books. We have been filled with images of slavery in America and across the world, but why is it that this chapter in black history was skipped? Why isn’t it equally common knowledge that in the midst of all of that darkness there was light, also.
Never before seen photos were uncovered, giving us over 200 images of glances into our past. Many of the photos did not include names or any details whatsoever, cloaking these people in mystery for all of time.
At one point in history, people of color were included in high society and walked the cobbled streets of Britain. The women wore intricate, voluminous gowns and wore their hair in curls and chignons. The men in suits and fair business. This may not have been the case for all black people in Britain, but for some it was.
The Victorian Era was ruled under Queen Victoria, an era that is described as an opulent culture, although there were underlying bouts of poverty and child labor. History would like you to believe that black people didn’t arrive in Britain until 1948 during “The Empire Windrush”, when many Jamaican descendants entered the country, but that is not so. There has been proof to suggest otherwise. There is documentation that proves that it wasn’t uncommon to see black faces at a Shakespeare show. We’ve been there all along, humming softly in the background.
These images prove that you can’t take mainstream history at face value. Take the time to look behind the curtain and uncover OUR history. It’s as if our ancestors are just waiting for us to seek them out.
Who were the Black Victorians?
To see more of these images check out this video reel.
History of Magic is a core class and subject taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This class is a study of magical history. This is one of the subjects where the use of magic practically isn’t necessary. History of Magic is taught from the first year to the fifth, with the option of N.E.W.T. courses in sixth and seventh year.
Okay, so I have all these weird little ideas in my head about Lily Evans, and I just want to put them somewhere.
Imagine Lily Evans who writes a letter every day, regardless of whether she’ll send it or not, and tucks a sprig of rosemary into each envelope, because it’s her mother’s favorite, and Lily doesn’t want her to think she’s forgotten these things.
Lily Evans who wears a bright yellow sundress in the middle of winter just to remind herself that the sun is going to come out eventually, who ignores the fact that her Chucks are too thin for the rain, who would rather cast a drying spell than give up that little touch of light.
Imagine Lily who catalogs things about her new friends, like Mary MacDonald’s favorite food (key-lime pie), or the way Remus Lupin spreads jam first, then butter when he eats toast. Lily Evans who learns how to sing Peter’s favorite song for when he’s so homesick he can’t even speak.
Imagine Lily going home for the summer, and Tuney sticks up her nose at the Scottish twang Lily’s picked up from Mary. Lily does her best to make it disappear, even though it makes her sad to let go of it.
Lily who sits on the swings with Severus when his parents are fighting and reminds him that soon they’ll be back at school. Lily who rubs muggle antiseptic into the cut on his cheek and doesn’t comment when he says he fell, even though he’s lying and they both know it.
Second year Lily Evans who gets her first detention for slapping a boy who tried to look up her skirt. She didn’t do it because he was Slytherin, she explains when Dumbledore asks, but because clearly his parents never taught him any manners, and she can’t let him go into the world like that. She serves the three hours without complaint, dutifully cleaning cauldrons until her fingers are numb.
Second year Lily is much more confident in her magic than First year Lily. Her favorite subject is History of Magic, because “it’s fascinating! There’s so much I never knew!” and she sticks to it, even when the others laugh.
James asks her out in Third year, and she turns him down on principle first, and then because Mary’s date ditched her last minute and friends stick together no matter what.
Later, when he asks her, she’ll tell him it was because the stars told her he wasn’t ready. It’s all bullshit, but it’s worth it to see him smile.
Imagine Fourth year Lily who begs Severus to sit next to her in potions. She sees him looking over his shoulder when they talk in the halls, and every time her stomach knots up, because he’s ashamed of her.
Fourth year Lily Evans doesn’t go to Hogsmeade anymore, because her best friend in the entire world is ashamed to be seen with her, and she’d rather not go if she can’t share it with the people she cares about. She uses the time instead to tutor one of the first years in Charms, because he can’t get used to holding a wand, and she knows how hard it can be to wrap your mind around it at first.
Fifth year Lily Evans confronts Severus in the second floor girls lavatory between classes. “What’s wrong?” she asks, and then, “are we still friends?” He tells her yes, but there’s a cold glint in his eye, and a shiver runs down her spine as she realizes that Severus Snape, the boy from Spinners End, is gone.
She doesn’t leave him, because she knows he’s struggling already, and he doesn’t need another person to abandon him, but then he calls her mudblood and she sees red. Years later, she still remembers everything she said to him that day. She doesn’t regret it until she sees the Dark Mark on his arm and realizes that it’s probably her fault.
Imagine Lily Evans who marries James Potter right after school, because there’s a war coming, and she wants to live a little before it’s too late.
Lily Evans fights with a baby inside of her and doesn’t stop fighting until she goes into hiding.
She sends Tuney a wedding present through Sirius, who drops it on the Dursleys’ doorstep. It’s a hair-clip shaped like a Petunia, sparkling and warm and beautiful, like the sister she remembers.
When Lily dies, her only fear is that it won’t be enough, that no matter what she does, Harry is going to die with her. She dies looking into the cold, hard eyes of Lord Voldemort, and she doesn’t show him her fear, and with her last bit of life, she sends all of her love to Harry and hopes that it will be enough.
She forgives Peter, too, with that last breath, because it’s never easy to live in someone’s shadow, and he was her friend once, too.
“You have to DECIDE who you are, and force the world to deal with you, not with its idea of you.” -James Baldwin
Dear Young Black Girls Rising Up,
Be carefree. When I say that, I mean exactly that. Be the person you want to be, whoever she is.
Patriarchy & Sexism forces you to see yourself as a object, as someone who obeys the man, as someone who doesn’t make decisions, and to be intimidated by being in control of yourself, and it’s all nonsense. You are shamed if you actually like sex and don’t only see it as a means of reproduction. Called a ho, a THOT, a bitch and etc. for not wanting anything more than pleasure from more than one person. Killed, raped, and humiliated for turning down the advances of men who think they own you. Told what to do with your body when with child, having regular bodily functions such as your menstrual cycle made a joke out of… You’re so much more than that.
Racism forces you to see yourself as a person who isn’t respected because your skin isn’t light, your hair isn’t straight, your nose isn’t narrow, your lips aren’t thin, the way you talk isn’t “proper,” your fathers are deadbeats and your mothers are whores, and you’ll end up living a life just like them. You’re meant to grow up strong and unable to feel pain, meant to be the backbone to the men in your life, meant to cry behind closed doors so no one can call you weak, meant to take the spit that’s spat at you, the hurt that’s inflicted on you, and the abuse you endure just to keep on living. You’re forced to be seen as anything but human…
And that is all a lie.
They’ll call you angry, but won’t ask you why.
They’ll say you give too much attitude, but won’t wonder where it stems from.
They’ll say you’re a grown woman just because puberty brought you hips and breasts.
They’ll call you ghetto (like it’s a personality and not a lifestyle) because of your doorknocker earrings and pink hair and edges swirled around the perimeter of your face.
They’ll say you’re “pretty for a Black girl,” as if that’s a compliment. As if Black girls aren’t meant to be pretty and you’re an exception.
They’ll say not to trust the next girl, because there is only one spot.
IT’S. ALL. A. LIE.
You don’t have to like or be anything other than yourself because people aren’t comfortable with you being anything other than what the world has forced you to believe you should be. The great thing about being human is that we are all different. No carbon copies needed.
Willow Smith has been called so many things because, at her age, her mother gave her the CHOICE to be whoever she wants to be. Hipster. Negligent. Reckless. Wild. Weird. Freak. Crazy… You name it, she’s been called it. AND YET… She makes music consistently, music that isn’t created with the intent to make money off of it by people who don’t care about representation or everyday struggles. It’s free falling, eclectic, dreamy, unhinged, and true. She can’t stop making it because she loves it, and the mind it comes from. Her own. Willow Smith is so in love with herself, that she shares herself with us. She has her opinions, and stands up for them. Being Black, being a woman, and simply being a human with gifts is a blessing this Carefree Black Girl doesn’t take for granted.
Amandla Stenberg has been looking and searching for roles to portray on film and television that’s written for girls like you: A Black young woman who doesn’t stem into the stereotypes White people have and continue to written for you. And it’s disheartening to her that she hasn’t been able to find any. That didn’t stop her from creating. She’s now working on a comic book featuring a Black girl by the name of Niobe from the comic series “The Untamed.” She uses social media to talk about certain Black Girl problems, like the fact that people still ask her questions like how she gets her hair to be curly. And from this success, we can only assume more works will branch from this Carefree Black Girl.
You don’t have to be like Willow or Amandla to be Carefree. Just … live. Live in your truth. Do not be ashamed of what you love, even if it goes against the stereotype. Let no one create you. You create yourself. Unlearn what has been forcefed to you by the same people who don’t include you in their TV Shows, their Films, their Magazines, their Young Adult fiction series, their make-up, their clothing…
TO HELL WITH THEM.
Your reflection is the dopest thing there is. Don’t compete with the next Carefree Black Girl. Don’t be jealous of her. Join that movement. Be your own version of carefree. Be you.
Live your life and tell the tale of the Carefree Black Girl.
Witches are commonly depicted reading. This may not seem unusual today, however up until the eighteenth century artists rarely depicted women in the act of reading with two significant exceptions: women who are clearly studying devotional material and witches who study books of magic.