They’re Eternally My Roman Empire

I wish I could dislike tumblr posts

The “Evan” Rosier that has been adopted by the Marauders fandom, bf of Barty Crouch Jr. & Regulus Black, twin brother of Mrs. Lovegood, was NOT the one who hexed off a chunk of Moody’s nose, and his first name might not even be Evan.

Okay, so in the books there are two Rosiers, one classmate of Tom Riddle and one of the first DEs, and the other in the Slytherin Proto-DE gang that Snape was in. We hear of both the Rosiers in GOF first.

This is the line talking about Marauders Era Rosier in GOF:

This Rosier can’t be the Evan Rosier who took a chunk out of Moody’s nose, because they died in 1980. The Rosier who was responsible for Moody’s less-than-whole nose was captured and killed at the very earliest in August 1981, because he was captured a bit after Karkaroff, and Karkaroff said at the trial where Evan was named that he knew that Travers helped murder the McKinnons, and the McKinnons were murdered in July 1981 as we all know from Lily’s letter.

And so this Rosier, the real Evan Rosier, the one who died in 1981 fighting aurors, is probably the same Rosier who was one of the OG DEs that is mentioned in HBP.

Which makes sense, an older dark wizard, who was one of Tom’s first followers, would be more magically skilled than someone who just graduated a few years ago.

Not saying you can’t call Marauders Era Rosier “Evan,” I personally choose to believe that Marauders Era Rosier is the son of Evan Rosier and he’s named after his father, so we have a Jr. and Sr. situation like with the Crouches, But technically someone making Marauders Era Rosier a woman named Clara or something, who never encountered Moody in combat, is more canon compliant than making Marauders Era Rosier the DE that hexed off that hunk of Moody’s nose.

Still not hard enough bro BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

gem i found on twitter

I think one big reason why we don't consider the stars as important as before (not even pop-astrology anymore cares about the stars or the sky on itself, just the signs deprived of context) is because of light pollution.

For most of human history the sky looked between 1-3, 4 at most. And then all of a sudden with electrification it was gone (I'm lucky if I get 6 in my small city). The first time I saw the Milky Way fully as a kid was a spiritual experience, I was almost scared on how BRIGHT it was, it felt like someone was looking back at me. You don't get that at all with modern light pollution.

When most people talk about stargazing nowadays they think about watching about a couple of bright dots. The stars are really, really not like that. The unpolluted night sky is a festival of fireworks. There is nothing like it.

That's kinda disturbing but slayyy nonetheless 🤪🤪

you know what? i'll say it.

i like canon barty crouch jr and canon regulus black.

and i would most definitely ship them in canon. 🙂

they're evil, morally wrong but they would fuck after they killed muggle borns <3

muah xoxo

Yeah they are friends who just wanna kiss 😙

6th year & jily are just friends, absolutely nothing between them. james has forced himself to be okay with just being friends. then its valentines day & lily asks if he wants to hang out with her as friends since neither of them have dates (no one asked them out because they've literally been spending every moment with each other so everyone assumes they're dating), & james agrees.

they proceed to spend the entire valentines day together. first waking up early & going on a run together then chatting over heart shaped pancakes (which were normal pancakes but they charmed them to be 'in theme with the holiday'), then they go to the library & lily reads whilst james draws, & she reads out passages to him that she thinks he'd like & he's drawing her. then they go out to the hills & have a picnic together, where james grows her flowers & gifts her chocolates & a necklace and lily then gifts him a homemade card & a watch. then they go to slughorn's classroom & james fulfills his detention cleaning cauldrons whilst lily practices making a potion, but they end up james helping her with the potion & then cleaning together. afterwards they go to the common room & play chess by the fireplace & charades against sirius, remus, and pete. then they sneak to the kitchens & grab a bunch of food which they then take to sneak out to the quidditch pitch & have dinner in the quidditch stands, james lighting candles around so they can see better. they then fly around the pitch for a bit before going back to the stands for dessert & and wine and then laying in each other's arms as they talk and stargaze.

it's totally just a friendly valentines hangout though..

Thank fuck Wolfstar wasn't sapphic bcz it would've NEVER blown up like now if it was. Why you ask? You already know the answer.

"Sapphic Wolfstar this" "Sapphic Jegulus that" What about we start paying attention to all the Sapphic ships we already have instead of just transforming mlm ships into wlw???

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP- HSJSHSJHJSHSJSHJSJS

Sebastian photographed for the oscars! #theoscars

YASSSSSS BI4BI/ SLUT4SLUT SAINTSTAR I HEAVILY FW

"IS THERE ANYBODY WHO THINKS SIRIUS AND MARY WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE A GREAT PAIR ??!" I scream into nothingness as my voice echoes through the chamber of the asylum they've put me in- " OR REGULUS BEING AROACE ??!!"

"ANYBODY??! PLEASE, ANSWER ME-" I thrash in my bindings, scratching my skin in the process, tired and worn out , lungs bleeding inside but heart aching with foolish hope that SaintStar fandom is still alive.

"Just one person, one is enough, just-" I choke in my own words, unable to form a coherent word after being deprived of saintstar headcanons for so long. Maybe my fate is tied here, in this chamber, dying, alone again. The hope flicking slightly like a star in the enormous galaxy, far away, quite never reaching me.

Bidrohi- Rebellion, written by Late Kazi Nazrul Islam, our national poet of Bangladesh.

The students of Bangladesh are dedicating this to the brave martyr "Shaheed Abu Sayed," killed from the gunshot of a police officer in Bangladesh at the mass quota reform student protest.

Bravo you cry,

Say hold your head high

Before my head, bows peaks of Himalayas

"Bravo" are your cries.

Your cries hails piercing skies and universes

Travels beyond moons and suns and galaxies

Piercing the earths and the heavens

Challenging the seat "throne" of the Almighty.

It raises in eternal wonder among World's destinies

On my forehead glows the angry God's emblem of victories.

"Bravo" are your cries.

I am who holds head high.

I am eternally wild, arrogant, and barbarian.

I am the dancer of the great cataclysm, I am cyclone, I am destruction.

I am the great fear, I am curse of the universe.

I am unsparing.

I destroy everything

I am chaotic, unchained.

I defy all rules, all laws and chains.

I do not follow any rule,

I sink a filled boat, I am torpedo, I am profane, I am wafting mine.

I am a God with untidy hairdo, or Goddess with untied hairs,

a sudden tempest of early summers.

I am rebel, I am rebel son of this world & universe

"Bravo" are your cries.

I am who holds head high.

I am rainstorm, I am hurricane,

I destroy everything that comes in my way.

I am dance crazy beat.

I dance at my will, I am life's free upbeat.

I am the night tune, I am dark dramatist, I am mystic strain

I am poignant agitation, caper and dance,

I surprise as I walk down the way

I prance as I sway

I am excited night melody.

I do whatever my heart desires

Wrestle with death, embrace enemies.

I am epidemic, I am fear of the land

I am tyrant ruler, for slaughter I am ever restless.

"Bravo" are your cries.

I am who holds head high.

I am indomitably naughty forever,

I am irrepressible, my cup of life is always and eternally full with liquor.

I am the pyres of sacrificial rites, I am devout meditator, I devour fire.

I am sacrificial fire, I am the priest father, I am the ultimate fire.

I am the creation, I am destruction, I am habituation, I am crematorium.

I am the conclusion, I am the darkest salvation.

I am son of queen of goddesses, moon in my hand & sun on my forehead.

On my one hand is tender flute of cane and on the other a war trumpet.

I am the one with blue throat, relieve pains of lover by drinking virulent.

I am the one with untidy knotted hairlocks, I hold unchained streams of Ganges.

"Bravo" are your cries.

I am the one who holds head high.

I am ascetic, the musician.

I am prince, my royal robe is pale saffron.

I am Bedouin, I am Chenghiz.

I worship none other but me.

I am thunder, I am the great universal sound of northeast.

I am the ornament of the burning Islamic angel, the mighty blast.

I am the musical instrument of the destroyer, the staff of the upholder of the truth.

I am the eternal circlet and the primary musical instrument-the great conch,

I am the primeval cry of the gong.

I am an eccentric ascetic and a disciple of a great saint.

I am the conflagration, shall burn the entire planet.

I am the ecstatic laughter of delight,- I am a terror-believer of iconoclasm.

I am the great gobbler of the twelve suns during the great cataclysm.

I am sometimes calm, sometimes wild, terribly disorderly.

I am the glowing blood of the youth, humble pride of the destiny.

I am violet gust of a storm, I am delightful wave of ocean

I am brilliance, I am radiant elegance.

I am sound of surging waters, sways of rolling waves!

I am unbridled hairs of a maiden whose big eyes flash with fires.

I am uncontrolled romance of a maid of sixteen, blessed as in paradise.

I am unquiet mind of a sad maid,

I am in breasts of a widow as her sobs and sighs.

I am the swindled pain of the gypsies, eternal homeless traveler.

I am the extreme pain of the humiliated, the burning sensation of poison,

the anguish of the dejected lover.

I am the vanity of the eternally distressed soul's grief, deeply entrenched pain.

Sudden-kiss-hidden-shivers, I am the trembling- quivering frail first touch of a woman.

I am the sudden glance of secret lover who by deception meets for moments.

I am the love of a lively girl, the jingles of her bangles.

I am the eternal child, youth forever

I am village maid afraid of adolescence, the scratch of veil on shoulder.

I am northern blizzard, fading fire, saddened eastern breeze.

I am the strains of a traveler poet, his cane flute's wheeze.

I am an eager thirst of summer, I am the scorching midday Sun.

I am cascading desert stream, I am soothing shadowy tone.

I rush in euphoric joys, its insane, I am insane

I suddenly discovered myself, unchained are my chains.

I am the rise, I am the fall, I am the alertness of unconscious mentality.

I am the sign on the gate of the world, the triumphant flag of humanity.

I rush forward clapping alike the storm traversing the heaven and this territory.

I ride the mighty energetic drunk flying horse of the Hindu & Islamic mythology.

I am a volcano on the bosom of the earth, the wild fire, the divine conflagration.

I am a burning rock in the hell-its wail-call-clamorous agitation.

I fly with speed of lightning, leaping in exultation.

I suddenly generate terror in seven worlds, initiate earthquake and undulation.

I clasp the head of mythological cobra of Hindus.

I clasp the blazing wings of the Christian consul.

I am the son of God, I am restless.

I am lewd, I tear with my teeth the bosom veil of mother earth.

I am the flute of the ancient Greek charmer

I calm the turbulent oceans.

I kiss sleep to entire world and draw them in slumber.

In strains of flute I endear

I am the cane flute of the Hindu universal lover.

When I become angry, I traverse beyond galaxies.

Defeating hell of Hindus and trampling the quivering infernos of Muslims.

I am the emissary of rebellions, bring message of revolt to earth from skies.

I am floods-torrential.

I sometimes enrich earth sometime wreck devastation.

I shall snatch from the God's bust the epitomes of wealth and erudition.

I am injustice, I am shooting star, I am evil luck.

I am blazing comet, poisonous deadly snake head.

I am the headless goddess, I am bring destruction and war .

I sit in inferno of hell and smile like an innocent flower.

I am soft as clay, I am conscious,

I am ageless, immortal, eternal, I am ceaseless.

I am terror of humans, demons & gods,

I am, in this world, eternally unconquerable.

I am God of gods, the eternal truth

I dance and trample the heaven, hell and earth.

I am insane, I am insane.

I discovered myself, unchained my chains.

I am the cruel axe of the fundamental man.

I shall bring peace by relieving this world of war thirsty clans.

I am the plough of the avatar of cultivation.

I uproot the sub-ordination from this world with ease in joys of new constitution.

I am the great rebel now weary of crusades

I shall rest only on that day,

When the wails of the oppressed will not echo in skies and airs.

When the battlefields do not echo the jingles of warring sabres.

The great rebel now weary of crusades

I shall rest only on that day!

I am rebellion saint who edges footprints on chest of the God who is sleepy.

I tear away the chest of the whimsical Almighty.

I am the eternal brave rebel.

I raise above all, my head forever high, all alone.

The translation may not be great, but it is an amazing poem which raged fire within the British Government settlers in India.

"Bidrohi" is a popular revolutionary Bengali poem and the most famous poem written by Kazi Nazrul Islam in December 1921. Originally published in several periodicals, the poem was first collected in October 1922 in a volume titled Agnibeena: the first anthology of Nazrul's poems.