The Black girls who u refuse to reblog are still valid and still matter.
Size 20 Black girls
Scene/alternative/nerdy Black girls
Black girls with acne or scarring
Dark skinned Black girls who aren’t fuckable to u
Monoracial Black girls with Black features
Disabled Black girls
Black girls who say “fuck respectability politics”
Black girls with 4c natural hair
Black girls who critique the Black community and the damage it has done to us..
Like. Black girls matter whether you like us or not.
Everyone had clearly spent far too long perfecting their appearance. I used to feel intimidated by people like this; now I see them as walking insecurity beacons, slaves to the perceived judgment of others, trapped within a self- perpetuating circle of crushing status anxiety.
Not So Boring: Part 2 (Riverdale & Teen Wolf) ~ Jughead Jones
“So wait…let me get this straight.” Jughead pointed to me, “You and your cousin are banshees,” He then pointed at Isaac, “you’re a legit werewolf,” he then points over to Stiles who was balancing spoons on his nose, “and you’re…” He trailed off.
“An idiot.” Isaac finished, causing Stiles to punch him in the shoulder only to injure himself.
We had just explained to Jughead about the supernatural and why we were really in in Riverdale after he took us to this nice little diner, with awesome milkshakes.
“Well he’s taking it a lot better than Liam did.” Stiles thought aloud and Isaac and I nodded as we thought back to when the baby beta had first become a werewolf.
“Wait. Who’s Liam?” Jughead questioned from the other side of the booth.
I rolled my eyes, “He’s another beta, like Liam. But he was turned by Scott, by accident…kind of.”
“Hey, Jughead…” A new feminine voice called out as we turned in the booth, towards the sound to see a black haired girl, a blonde haired girl, and a red-headed boy walking towards us. “Hey, new people. I’m Veronica Lodge, nice to meet you.” The black haired girl introduced, I smiled politely at her.
Veronica then pointed to the other girl who waved slightly, “This is Betty,” and then over at the boy, “and this is Archie.”
“I’m (Y/N), this is Stiles, and Isaac.” As I introduced my two friends I noticed Issac’s eyes seemed to be kept on Betty the entire time, he was watching her with soft eyes and wonder. The Lahey boy then sniffed the air, looking around.
“I smell something.” He muttered to Stiles and I causing our eyes to widen.
“What is it?” Stiles asked through a fake smile while looking at the Riverdale residents.
Isaac sniffed again, “I can’t make it out entirely. It smells like…like salt.” The three of us exchanged glances knowing we had to go and figure out where the scent was coming from.
“Hey, Stiles. Don’t we have to go and call Scott? Make sure everything is okay with him?” I asked aloud, trying to get us a gateway out of here.
“Oh yeah,” Stiles stuttered, he was a terrible liar. “The accident was hard on him.”
Betty frowned slightly while Jughead looked at us suspiciously, “Oh no. What happened?”
Isaac, Stiles, and I traded glances before Stiles and Isaac yelled out,
“He fell down the stairs.”
“He was in a fire.”
I mentally face palmed.
The two boys glared at each other before Isaac spoke again, clearing his throat, “He fell down a flight of stairs.”
“Into a fire!” Stiles quickly added, I wanted to tape his mouth shut.
Isaac gritted his teeth as he looked down at the three high schoolers, “Yes, Scott fell down the stairs…into a fire.”
I nodded, “And that’s why we need to call him. ASAP.”
“So we’ll just be right back.” Stiles said as we stood up, scooting out of the booth, the Riverdale kids watching us curiously.
“It was nice meeting you.” I addressed the three, catching Jughead’s eye as he frowned.
“See ya!” Stiles said, before practically running out of the building, Isaac and I quickly following him.
I hit Stiles on the back of his head as soon as we got outside.
“Ow! (Y/N)!” The Stilinski boy whined, cradling the back of his head.
“A fire? Really?” I questioned the boy, frowning as Isaac sniffed the air, before catching the salty scent.
“This way!” He yelled before taking off, his blonde curls bouncing, Stiles and I hot on his heels.
@yarashahidi: “Stop bringing politics into football” as though patriotism isn’t inherently political. Patriotism, or a vigorous support for one’s country, implies the country is in vigorous support of you and your existence 🔆 In the words of James Baldwin, “It comes as a great shock to discover that the flag to which you have pledged allegiance… has not pledged allegiance to you”
Summary/Prompt: Dan is dyslexic and downloads audio books on his phone to help him read. The teacher sees Dan on his phone and confiscates it without listening, thinking it’s just another teenager with excuses for not working. Phil see’s how distressed Dan is and moves his desk over to ask what’s wrong. Phil ends up reading the book to Dan.
Word Count: 742
To put it simply, Dan was dyslexic. He had trouble reading; letters, numbers, and basically any symbols often became jumbled and confused to him. It was a bit irritating sometimes knowing he’d never be able to read words like everyone else, but he managed. He wasn’t stupid by any means (he was actually one of the smartest people in his class) he was just at a bit of a disadvantage. He could read and write, he just tried to avoid it as much as he could because it oftentimes frustrated him to do so.
So if his teacher’s ever gave him a reading assignment, he’d just listen to the audio version instead. He’d find the audio book online and just listen to it- he found people reading to him to be rather soothing and relaxing. He rather enjoyed listening to audio books and it was so much less frustrating than to actually read the book himself.
Nakeya Janice Brown Born: 1988, California Currently lives/work between New York & New Jersey. Contact: email@example.com Blog: nakeyab.tumblr.com
“My work is the visualization of blackness and womanhood with an emphasis on the politics of hair- one the most scrutinized components of a black woman’s body. My photographs examine the multiplicity of African –American hair through presenting it in various states whether braided, weaved, straightened, or natural. I am intrigued by its ability to communicate dual messages about a woman’s relationship to herself and to society at large. I often employ the female figure and feminine objects to render representations of black feminality and explore the changing language of beauty. Through past memories and personal observations, I use photography to examine how the racialized notion of beauty shape self-perception from a black feminist context.”
Request from anon: Can you write an imagine where the reader is basically the female version of Ciel (eye patch, fiancé, demon butler, etc) and is The Queen’s Eye In The Sky (she basically takes care of things that slip past the underground aka Ciel’s territory) and Ciel gets intrigued because 1. They’re the same age and her company’s as successful as his. 2. He thinks he spots another pawn to play, but is actually the other player. Lady Elizabeth meets y/n’s fiancé, and Y/N’s fiancé and Lizzy fall for each other and get engaged. People then started talking about how cute Ciel and Y/N would be as a couple, and how powerful a business they’d make if they were to marry. The queen hears about this and forces them to be each other’s betrothed (because these two separately were deadly enough, what’d happen if the guard dog and eye in the sky marry?) and y/n now stays at the Phantomhive Manor and even though they promised strictly business Ciel falls for her anyway and vice versa?
A/N: I wrote this with the idea that Ciel and the reader were around 18 years of age.
“Hmm. What a shame. I thought that the Queen’s mighty Guard Dog would have wrapped this case up by now. Oh well. Hannah, fetch me all the information you can regarding the previous murders. I want to solve this case quickly.”
Strolling through the crime scene, you took in the gory scene of the beaten and bloodied young couple before you.
“Isn’t this a bit of an odd place for a woman of such delicate sensibilities? May I escort you away from this gruesome scene, miss?”
You whipped your head around to see a tall, pale butler with midnight black hair smiling politely down at you, extending his hand in your direction.
Beside him you found a young man, about your age, with blue-black hair and a bright, shining azure eye. The other eye was hidden away beneath a black leather eyepatch and his clothing quite obviously indicated his status as a noble.
“Well, well. Ciel Phantomhive in the flesh? Must be my lucky day.”
A smirk crept across your lips as you kept your eye on him, narrowing your gaze as if to size him up before turning your attention back to the butler.
“You must be Sebastian. Thank you, but I am quite all right where I am. I assure you I disbanded any ‘delicate sensibilities’ I had long ago. Pleasure to make your acquaintance though.”
Curtsying politely, you couldn’t help but hid the amusement in your smile as the pair of them stared at you in a mild state of shock.
“What? You don’t realize who I am?”
A playful giggle escaped your throat ad you stepped closer to the two of them.
“No. Should I?”
Ciel’s tone was as icy cool as the glower he shot in your direction, but it wasn’t nearly enough to wipe the grin from your face.
“Are you certain you don’t know me? Because I’m willing to bet my entire, rather embarrassingly large, fortune that nearly every piece of clothing you’re wearing has my name on it.”
Wearing a proud smirk upon your face, you studied Ciel’s face carefully, watching his expression evolve into one of surprise and then flash with anger. Quickly, he opened up his coat, looking inside to read the label.
“(Y/L/N)? (Y/N)(Y/L/N)? You’re the owner of nearly all the textile factories in England?”
“Yes, all but a few mom-and-pop shops, but not for long. Don’t seem so surprised. What? Were you expecting someone a bit older? More haggish-looking? I may be young, but you’ve more than proven that even us young adults can run a succesful business, haven’t you?”
“What are you playing at? I have no time for games. Why are you here? I believe I have this situation handled.”
“I believe you don’t. Why else would the Queen place me on the case? I get what you can’t handle and then some. You can run off to your next mystery, Sherlock. I have this one under control.”
His glower shifted into a blatant glare as he fiddled with the top of his walking stick, balling his fist around it as he twitched with palpable annoyance. You couldn’t deny it amused you to rile him up; it was so easy.
“Master, shall we find the detectives from Scotland Yard? Perhaps we can gather some new information about the case.”
Sebastian peered down at Ciel, no doubt trying to quell his rage by changing the subject.
“Yes. You go on ahead and do that, Sebastian. That’s an order. I want to have a chat with Lady (Y/N).”
Never taking his eye off you, Ciel took a few slow steps forward as Sebastian bowed before him.
“Yes, my lord.”
As he practically dashed off, the silence settled between you and the young earl. Neither of you wanting to break the tension. You simply sized one another up, each of your singular eye’s locked in the others respective gaze.
“I know who you are, Ciel. I know what he is too.”
“Takes one to know one. What did you sell your soul for? This clothing line? Pathetic. What business have you here? Leave this matter to the Phantomhives.”
“It has been left to you for weeks now; the Queen is impatient, so she called me. The Eye in the Sky. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? And as for my demonic transaction, that’s none of your business, nor will it ever be.”
“You’re a daring one, aren’t you? Good thing my butler and I both make a habit of breaking spirits.”
Ciel’s smirked as he casually walked through the crime scene, scanning over the carnage.
“Daring? Perhaps. I prefer the word confident.”
Striding past him, the back of your fingers brushed against the pockets of his coat as you winked in his direction, boasting a proud smirk on your lips.
You held tight to the cape around your shoulders as you walked through the woods, back to your house. You saw Grace playing outside, her stuffed rabbit in hand. Smiling to yourself, you decided not to worry her about what had just happened. Ever since those strange people came to visit, things had started to change.
The girl who called herself Emma had said that they came from a different world. That you knew to be true, but you still didn’t understand how. With them, they brought strange piece of machinery, and many different styles of clothing. When you took them in, you nearly fainted.
Today, you almost fainted again. You were collecting wood for your fire, when one of the boys, barely older than Grace, came up to you. He introduced himself as Henry, and immediately began asking you questions about your life. When he was finished, he left you with one ominous tiding.
“Someone’s trying to change your story, be careful.” He ran off again before you could ask what he meant. You hightailed it back to your home, hoping to talk to Jefferson. You dropped your cloak once you came in your kitchen, and got used to the coldness of just wearing a dress.
Jefferson came home about ten minutes later, and smiled at you happily. You smiled, too, just less than his. You stood up as he walked towards you, and placed affectionate kisses across your face.
“Hello, love,” he said.
“Hi!” Grace ran in and rushed into her father’s arms. He picked her up, and grinned at her, too.
“How are my two gorgeous girls?” he asked. Grace beamed back at him, and started telling him stories of her day. You listened and nodded along. Jefferson would look over at you ever few minutes, and you would smile at him. He could clearly tell that something was bothering you, so he asked Grace to run off to her room and get a tea party set up. She smiled happily and rushed to the top of the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at you seriously. He was frowning now. You took a deep breath and he reached for your hand, rubbing it softly with his thumb.
“Someone came up to me today. One of the boys from the other world. He told me to be careful, because someone is trying to change my story.” Jefferson furrowed up his brow.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but he seemed really worried about it.” He nodded and thought for a moment.
“Well, let’s find out. Get your cloak.”
“What? Right now?”
“Yes. I have seen things that should be impossible, inside this hat. I have seen dark, strange magic. If this boy says you are in danger, I will take him at his word. I don’t want any harm coming to you,” he said, cupping your cheeks. You gave into his hand and smiled. He felt warm and safe.
You packed up a few provisions while Jefferson went to take Grace to the neighbors. He promised that you would be back in a few days. He came back, and picked up your bag. You put on your cloaks, and you were off. He didn’t really have a place in mind, but new that if you found the strange people, you would find your answer.
For a day, you just traveled. You slept on a hard, rocky floor, and then started walking the next day. It was nearly nightfall when you stumbled across the group. They were setting up tents of their own, and smiled when you walked up.
“Hello,” one of the men said, a charming smile spreading across his face.
“Hello,” you said. Jefferson nodded politely.
“What can we do for you?” a woman, with raven black hair asked. You and Jefferson exchanged a look, coming to the agreement that you could probably trust these people.
“I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, Jefferson. Um, is there a younger boy here?” you asked, looking around the camp. The two people in front of you that were clearly a couple looked at each other and then around the camp.
“Henry!” The same boy from before popped his head out of a tent, followed by a woman with blonde hair, most likely his mother. He smiled at you and walked forward eagerly.
“Y/N!” he said excitedly. “I knew you’d be back! What are you doing here?”
“Well, Henry, I have some questions for you. First of all, how do you know my name?”
“My book.” He ran back over to his tent and pulled out a big storybook. He rifled through it and handed the book to you, open on a page with your face in it. Jefferson snatched it from your hand before you could give it a good look.
“What the hell is this?” he asked angrily. The blonde woman stepped in front of Henry.
“Hey, watch it!” she said.
“Why don’t you let your kid explain what the hell my wife’s picture is doing in your book.” You put a hand on his chest and he let out a breath.
“Please,” you said, looking at the blonde. She nodded and looked back at Henry.
“In the world we come from, your lives are just stories. You, the Mad Hatter,” he said, pointing to Jefferson. “Even my grandparents, Prince Charming and Snow White,” he said, motioning to the couple from earlier.
“You’re Snow White?” you asked in shock. She nodded and smiled slightly.
“Okay. So we’re characters in a book,” you said, trying to understand it. “But who’s trying to change my story?”
“That would be August.”
“Who’s that?” Jefferson asked, getting fed up.
“Who?” you and Jefferson asked at the same time. The blonde laughed and Henry sighed.
“It doesn’t matter who, it matters that he’s trying to change your story. If he gets a hold of this book, he can change everything about your life. Who you are, who you’re with, everything.” You looked over at Jefferson nervously.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“We have to find August and convince him that what he is doing is wrong.”
“How do we do that?”
“We know he’s somewhere in the Enchanted Forest,” Prince Charming said. Jefferson looked down at you and frowned. You shrugged.
“How can we help?” he asked.
“Help us track him down,” the blonde woman said. “When he sees that you both have a life-”
“He’ll just do it to someone else,” you said.
“We’re hoping to convince him otherwise,” Snow White said.
“And if you don’t?” No one answered that question of yours, but they all gave forewarning looks.
When you finally found August, it was nearly a week later. Jefferson had been stressed out the entire time. For the obvious reason of searching for August, and for the fact that you had to leave Grace for a while. He was the most eager to walk into the house of August.
The house was deep in the woods, surrounded by tall, tall trees. There was a deep purple door at the entrance, that you knocked on hesitantly.
“You’re gonna knock?” Jefferson asked. You shot him a look and resisted the urge to knock the hat off of his head.
“What would you do?” you asked.
“Walk in.” He tried to turn the knob, but it was locked.
“Now what?” you asked with a cocky smile, looking up at him. The door opened a moment later so you didn’t have to wait for his answer. A tall, dark haired man opened the door, a pained expression on his face. Emma stepped forward and smiled at him.
“Emma,” he said.
“What are you-”
“You know,” she said firmly. You shifted nervously, tugging on the sleeves of your dress. He looked behind her and his eyes trailed on you and Jefferson.
“Then you know I don’t really have a choice.” He motioned down to his leg and you saw that it was entirely made of wood. You clutched onto Jefferson’s arm in shock, but he stood firm.
“You do have a choice. You can leave Y/N out of it,” he said, stepping towards August. The other man puffed out his chest and stared at your husband. You pulled Jefferson back.
“I think we can talk this through,” you said, looking at Emma, hoping for a little logical support. She nodded.
“Yeah, come on, this is ridiculous, August. Just let us in, and we can talk about this.” He groaned but opened the door wider. You all piled in and sat awkwardly around the couch. “Why do you think you can do this?”
“It’s the only choice I have. If I can get someone to fall in love with me, I can break the curse.”
“And you couldn’t do that in traditional ways?” Jefferson asked.
“No. Not in a timely fashion.”
“So you’ll just take that which you can’t achieve away from someone who already has it?” August shrugged and Jefferson stood up and charge him, punching him square in the jaw.
“Jefferson!” you said, standing up and pulling him back. August held on to face as he looked at the group.
“If there was another way-”
“There is another way, August. We just have to find the tree that I was brought to our world in. If we put you in that, we can reverse it all.”
“How long should I wait, Emma?”
“Long enough for me to tell you why this is a bad idea.” He looked you up and down, and you had to stop Jefferson from trying to punch him again. “Have you ever truly loved someone?” you asked.
“Yes. I’m not heartless.” Jefferson scoffed but you ignored him.
“How would you feel if someone took that away from you? Pretty awful, right? Well, think about how terrible it would be for this other person. The person who loves you back. They have to live without you now, too.” August looked uncomfortable and was no longer making eye contact. “I know you’ve met my enthusiastic husband, but I also have a gorgeous step-daughter I would like to get home to. Please don’t do this. Let us help you in a way that doesn’t harm anyone else.”
Jefferson took a deep breath from behind you, and you could feel how tense Emma was, just sitting next to her. August was chewing his lip, deep in thought. If he said no, you didn’t know what you would do. You thought you had made a pretty compelling case. You hoped, at least.
“I don’t have much time,” he said, mostly to Emma. She nodded.
“It’s okay. We work well on time crunches.”
“You promise you’ll help me?”
“Of course.” He nodded and looked at you.
“I’m sorry.” You smiled and looked back at Jefferson. He nodded but didn’t look at August. “Go back to your daughter,” he said, looking at you. You smiled and stood up.
“Well that was stupid,” Jefferson said as you two walked back hand in hand. You laughed and nodded.
“If he was going to be so easy to convince I wouldn’t have joined them,” you said.
“No, it was a good thing you were there. You have a special way with people. They can’t help but love you.” You smiled up at him and he kissed your lips softly.
“I love you,” you said.
“I love you, too.” The walk to your house from August’s wasn’t that far, and soon you saw the familiar cottage. You breathed in the fresh air and smiled to yourself. You were finally home.
“I’m sure Grace will love to hear this story,” you said.
“Of course she will,” he said. “It’s our story.” You beamed at him once more and tried to keep from sprinting towards your home. You knew you were home when you heard a shout.
LOOKING TO PHOTOGRAPH BLACK WOMEN AND MEN FOR PHOTO PROJECT ABOUT BLACK HAIR!
Hi everyone, I am interested in doing a photo series that explores the politics of black hair. I am a photographer in the DMV area and I am looking to photograph black men and women. If you are interested please send me a message or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org