worn with pride

anonymous asked:

But he hasn't supported the community? Not publicly. The other guys have, he never has. And probably never will.

okay so since you decided to send me such an unintelligent message without even doing basic research  (literally…you could have just looked it up without being so condescending) here’s a lot of the public support louis has shown for the lgbt+ community that should NEVER be overlooked.

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most women want to grow out of the girl that was hurt, but i’m deciding to keep her.
i won’t abandon her, or treat her like she’s broken.
she will be imbedded in me, and worn with pride. though all i feel is the aftermath of love and war racing in her veins, she is a survivor.
and for that, i will not leave her behind.
i will keep her.
i will keep her.
i will always, keep her.

I realized yesterday that the batfam definitely has to use makeup frequently to cover bruises from all their vigilante-ing, so it got me thinking and 

  • Bruce is the King of Invisible Makeup. He’s been doing this the longest and he’s gotten really, really good at covering bruises and cuts in a way that looks like he isn’t wearing any makeup. Probably has the color lineup of his favorite concealer brand memorized, can usually match someone’s skin color on the first try.
  • If any of the Justice League members ever noticed and made a comment on it he would just turn to them and say “Not all of us can heal bruises instantly.” in That Voice™ and they’d immediately shut up.
  • Dick grew up in the circus, so obviously he’s been using stage makeup since he was very young. He is by far the most skilled at makeup application – his blending techniques are legendary. Probably wears a light bb cream sometimes just for the heck of it, because it makes his skin look nice and who needs gender roles? 
  • Barbara doesn’t wear makeup every day, and when she does she keeps it pretty natural. Is the queen of drugstore makeup because why would she spend $40 on an eyeshadow palette when there’s an almost identical one at Walgreens for $11.99??? 
  • Jason doesn’t bother to cover his bruises with concealer or foundation like the others because he doesn’t really have much of a civilian identity anyway. Besides, bruises and split lips are kind of part of his aesthetic. Has definitely experimented with eyeliner at some point and probably still wears subtle smoked-out kohl sometimes because he likes how it makes his eyes look even more green.
  • Tim is so pale that he sometimes has trouble finding concealer and foundation that matches his face?? He uses a different brand because the brand Bruce likes has a lot of yellow tones and it doesn’t look right on Tim’s ivory skin. This brand doesn’t stay put as well as Bruce’s, so he has to reapply several times over the course of the day. Because of this, Tim has at least one concealer palette on him at all times.
  • Stephanie is the most into makeup out of all of them. She watches makeup tutorials for fun and to learn new techniques, and unlike Barbara she’ll sometimes shell out for an expensive product if it’s really good. Is the queen of contouring, and has been known to wear red lipstick on patrol. She and Dick exchange application tips and product recommendations.
  • Damian was resistant to wearing makeup when he first joined Team Batman, because he’s always been taught that injuries sustained in battle are an honor and should be worn with pride, but he realizes that to preserve his civilian identity he has to look like he doesn’t get beaten up regularly. He was absolutely appalled when he found out about animal testing in the cosmetics industry, and he made everyone switch over to certified cruelty-free products.
  • Cass doesn’t go out much so she doesn’t really bother with makeup. She doesn’t like how it feels on her face. If she ever has to wear makeup for whatever reason she’ll probably ask Stephanie or Barbara to do it for her.
  • NO ONE in the fam has the same skin color, so there’s always approximately six thousand concealer palettes laying around the Batcave. It’s a mess.
  • If Stephanie runs out of highlighter, she’ll use Tim’s foundation because it’s light enough to be a highlight on her lmao
  • Tim, Damian, and Cass are all really bad about forgetting to wash their makeup off before they go to bed and it stresses Dick and Stephanie out so much bc like??? It’s so bad for their skin??? They’re going to get premature wrinkles do they not love themselves
  • Jason tries to wash his makeup off before bed but usually can’t get all of his eyeliner off so imagine… Jason, still half-asleep, drinking coffee in his pjs… leftover black eyeliner smudged all around his eyes… he’s like a disgruntled racoon 

idk I just really love makeup and really, really love the batfam

Wannabe

REQUEST: Helloo, could you write a fic with Patrick. I just want him to play with my hair and gimme shit for my bruised eye. Shit- make fun of in a caring way owo 


High school is a breeding grounds for wannabe gangsters. The type of people that wanted the fear and solemn respect that came with the title but never the full on balls to do what it took to get there. It’s what separates the typical bullies that shove nerds into lockers and the Bowers gang.

It’s never a contest. Bowers gang ranks top on the food chain when it comes to the scum of Derry High School’s delinquents. No one dares mess with them and the ones foolish enough to try get made an example of.

There’s a sense of power that comes with running with that crowd. It’s that delightful feeling that comes when the girl who keeps kicking the back of your seat despite your requests for her to stop, finds out who your boyfriend is; the color draining from her face and her legs immediately crossing as she apologizes for being a nuisance.

It gives you a mock sense of invincibility. That you can win any fight with the mention of who your friends are. Grant it, only one of them cared for you—barely—the other three only tolerating your presence and sharing a laugh with you every other time you hang out.

Maybe that’s why you felt safe running your mouth at the local meathead. You were well aware of his short fuse and clear conscience about hitting a girl. None of it stops you from taking a stand.

“Touch me one more time.” You warn, finger pointing sharp at him and glare set in place.

Patrick stands watch by Belch’s car. Arms folded over his chest, he smiles with amusement, elbowing Henry at the scene you were causing. He found it cute how you put on airs of being a tough girl when he knew firsthand how quick you fold under pressure.

Belch watches with a hint more concern. “Should we help her?” The boy was twice your size, one punch and you’d be nursing a black eye for weeks, if you were lucky. Your teeth being scattered across the school courtyard was also a viable possibility.

 “Nah.” Patrick laughs quietly as you slap the boy across the face. He’ll take care of the oaf for touching his girl in that kind of manner later. But for now, he’d let you have your moment.

“Whatcha gonna do?” You taunt, hands on hips and pride worn on your sleeve. “You fuckin’ perv—“

You black out before you register the pain from a meaty fist making contact with your eye. Not that it eases Hockstetter’s temperament. Righteous rage wells within him, his fist curl into themselves and he moves briskly across the courtyard shouting. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

The others rush by his side, crowding the boy up against a wall.

“Huh??” Patrick grabs him by the collar, shoving him against the wall, hard.

“S-she was a bitch.”

“That over there.” He points to your lifeless body that now had a gathering around it. “That bitch, is my fuck toy. And you damn just bout broke her. Now they’re going to return the favor.”

Patrick undoes his grasp on the boy and leaves, walking over toward s you. Henry and Vic fill in the gap. The gang takes a sick pleasure in wailing the boy into submission, screaming insults at him just daring him to try to get up so they can kick him down.

You wake up to light slaps on your cheek and Patrick Hockstetter’s lecherous smile directly above you. “Wakey wakey, Princess.”

You blink once and suddenly become aware of the throbbing pain in your eye. “Ugh, what happen?”

“You got yourself a black eye.” He curls his fingers into your hair, letting the locks tumble out of his grasp. “Pretty stupid.”

Your face takes on an annoyed hue. The faintest of memories regain color as the events leading up to this moment collectively return. Shit. “How long have I been out?”

“Bout a minute. You need to be more careful.”

“What, you worried about me? Could you actually loveee me?” You tease, then yelp when his grip on your hair tightens around the roots. His smile was still present, growing unnerving by the second with the sun positioned right above him, haloing his head and casting a hallow expression.

He leans down, voice tense.  “You are the most expensive fuck I’ve ever had.” What with the mandatory monthly dates and expected birthday gifts. He puts up with it because you happen to also be the best fuck he’s ever had. “I’m not going to be happy if you get broken by someone else. Got it?” He tugs your hair for emphasis and you whine, nodding your head.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, girl.” He kisses your now forming black eye, intentional applying more pressure than necessary. You can feel him smirk when you wince. His touch returns to a gentler setting and he tucks a rogue collection of stray hairs behind your ear. 

The soothing motions lull you into a state of rest and you enjoy the beautiful day, complimentary breeze, and the cries of that asshole begging Henry to stop. Being a wannabe gangster sure has it’s perks.

one. your skin is a gift
an heirloom passed from generations
like the wind that moves the sands of time.

two. your skin is a painting
a testimony of a piece of the moon
that the sun so loves.

three. your skin is an armor
made of tears, blood and sky-wrecking thunder
smiles hiding in the darkest corners
and it shines bright as the motherland
and moves deeper than the sea, because
no armor is stronger
than one worn with pride.

four. your skin is the
most beautiful poetry i’ve ever seen.

five. your skin is not
a crime scene, it is not the
forgotten lyrics of an oppressed history
but the melodious tune
of an uprising.

six. you are the pedestal,
the kingdom, the throne
on which the crown of your culture rests.

seven. first and foremost. you
are human. you are
a girl.


- notes to the brown girl | vans.

BANDANA - Jamaica’s National Fabric and Folk Costume

Bandana cloth originated in far off Chennai, in Eastern India. However this light, inexpensive and cool cloth became a symbol of Jamaican national culture after the 1940’s. Bandana’s plaid patterns and colours along with several other symbols became associated with the traditions and heritage of the ordinary Jamaican people.

Prior to that, Bandana has long been associated with Jamaican working women. When India fell under almost complete British control in the 19th Century, the Madras cloth trade proved a cheap fabric for enslaved and Black working class women in the Caribbean. The cloth, however, was worn as a mark of pride and distinction, particularly among market vendors. 

#RespectDUE!!!

Someone asked “Fred Weasley is bisexual and aroflux /H”

(Showed up in activity feed, but not our inbox.)

One of Fred’s personal projects when he and George open their shop is to finally create his line of bi joke products. It includes a powder inspired by Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder that, when thrown, creates a pink, purple, and blue cloud of smoke that allows the user to escape from biphobic people and situations. (It becomes so popular that he creates powders in as many pride colors as he can.) He also has sweets that will become near impossible to chew if the person eating them starts to say something queerphobic. And he makes ridiculous pink, blue, and purple hats that spout bi puns and proclaim their wearer’s pride at anyone they pass. These become popular at parades, and a few get confiscated by the Ministry because they were worn to muggle pride events. Muggles grew suspicious when the funny hats started giving intelligent answers to questions asked of the wearer.

He starts getting requests from his friends in the a-spec community, so he starts a line just for them. Aros love the mini “bow and aro” sets that shoot (harmless) arrows that trail green, white, grey, and black smoke. Aces love the decks of cards (nothing but aces of course) where each card can be thrown into the air and it will fold itself into an origami dragon that glides back down. During the next year’s Ace Awareness Week a student walks to the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast, yells ACES WILD, and throws the entire deck.

Fred’s favorite thing is when customers come in and tell him what shenanigans they got into with his products.

- Ravenclaw Mod

Burn Chapter 1 (Biadore) - Azra Ink

A/N: Hey! You guys were so nice about my first fic and a couple of people mentioned they wanted a Biadore soulmate AU so… tada? This is gonna be a multichaptered fic and I know the first one is quite short but they will get longer! The premise for this fic is that the first time your soulmate places their hand on your bare skin, their handprint burns itself onto your body. I haven’t actually read this kind of soulmate AU before so figured although it was weird, I’d give it a go. Let me know what you think! -Azra x

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— bubblegum pink. + finn bálor [1]

→ request: ― just a small thing I did!!

→ word count: 4,544

→ content warnings: FLUFFY!FINN. alcohol mention (and use). some swearing. shitty ending. I guess that’s it.

→ note: this is finally done. my suffering is goddamn over. but I’m really somehow proud of this so I hope you all like it! shoutout to some of my friends on Quotev who have seen my work and have complimented it. I’m trying to tackle on more of the wrestler’s head in here instead of the usual where I focus on the reader’s mind, so this may look 100% shitty but i tried ok :’) enough babbling, i really hope you enjoy this!!

→ tag list: @rxvolutionvries, @danbanks35, @trulydarcy


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Angel (And everyone else) Lives AU

I’m putting this under a cut because its really long, but here’s most of what @lilithsborderlands and I came up with for this AU. 

Message either of us if you have any ideas you think would fit! (Or if you want to draw some of this, that would be great) We’d love to hear from you guys.

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Dance that lasts a lifetime

@huxlolidays I did it! I finally got one of the prompts done and it’s actually on time? What? crazy.

A little dance related fluff for @smolwars and fluff friday as well!



While his home world was officially Arkanis he had only been there for a short time, the empire had fallen and his family had fled Arkanis and it’s manor houses and lush green seas of grasses, with its festivals and it’s balls.

No, Hux’s home world had been a series of outer rim outposts that turned a blind eye to the imperial jacket hanging off his father’s shoulders and only cared for the imperial memorabilia and jewels and well worn finery they and the other refugees were willing to part with (and sometimes not so willingly). And when they had grown too hostile and when the children tugging at apron strings and arm sleeves were finally grown enough to spend more time off planet with no ill effects Hux’s home world had become a series of space ships and defunct stations.

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Babysitting

This is a request from Boris Yeltsin on fanfiction.net. The prompt or request was Riley and Lucas helping Maya babysit her little sister, Shawn and Katy’s daughter. This is the first request I’ve ever gotten and I hope I do it justice.

Riley was bored. It was a lazy Sunday afternoon towards the end of her junior year of high school. All her homework was done and she didn’t have to work as the bakery was closed on Sundays. She had hoped to hang out with Lucas, but he had taken a job with a local animal shelter. He would come in on the weekends to feed and water the animals and to clean cages. She had called Maya, but her parents wanted to have a family day. Since Katy had given birth to Maya’s little sister, Harmony, she and Shawn liked to have family time more often.
Maya enjoyed spending the time with her parents and sister. It wasn’t something she was used to and since college was a year away, she felt the need to spend as much time with them as possible.

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Lightsabers (Stark!Reader x Pietro Maximoff)

Word Count: 1263

Summary: Reader and Pietro first bonded over their mutual love for the sci-fi series Star Wars, and now as a romantic couple, they seek out to create their own lightsabers. Because that’s what adults do.

A/N: I’m dead I’m dead. So dead. Y’all know my love for Pietro and Star Wars so I am basically just a corpse now. ENJOY MY DUDES!!!


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Why The Women Of This Black Panther Flick Rule The World....

Reason #1 - Melanin

Reason #2 - Melanin

Reason #3 - And Mo’ Melanin

I heard a lot of buzz around the women of the upcoming Black Panther film. I put it in the back of my mind to check out the trailer - fah later. I have yet to see the trailer for the film, but DARLINGS when I came upon the many pictures (including the one above) of the women in the film, I felt about three more ounces of melanin stream into my already well-melanated existence.  It’s like the folks at Marvel went and had a spiritual retreat smack dab in the middle of Black Girl Magic Land. Although I have not viewed the trailer, it is already guaranteed that my behind will be seated in front of a big screen on opening day. 

Back in the day, when a film even featured a Black woman, she was draped in Jane Fonda-esque locks and painted with nude lips and bleaching cream. Afros and low haircuts were often reserved for Blaxpoitation films and struggle series. Notice how , in Good Times, Florida Evans rocked a straight TWA and Thelma rocked her own Afro versions or braids. Then when there were shows depicting more ‘dignified’ Negroes, there was a commission of wigs, perms and hot combs - i.e., Louise Jefferson, the matriarch of the show, The Jeffersons. So when I come across a poster for the Black Panther film and saw Marvel had baldheads, TWAs and 4C for breakfast, lunch and dinner, it gave me LIFE! I was like Jesus when he was rising up on that third day. These ain’t your every day submissive sidekick, bandana wearing Black characters. This is imagery of power and beauty. I am sitting here about to snatch out my Marley Twists and shave my head bald. Who got a gold collar for my neck today?

When I was younger, you were only considered cute if you had ‘good’ hair or your hair was straightened. You were either subjected to a heated rake through your tresses or perm slathered in your head, leaving you checking in the mirror to see if the chemicals had burned through to the white meat. My family still carries that belief now. I remember the rage I felt when I arrived home to my aunt working perm through the head of my 3-year old daughter. I conformed for a few years, but then my daughter saw my natural hair and wanted to follow suit. She is 19-years old and I love her head full of soft, thick curls which she has worn with pride for the last 10 years. Glory in her black girl magic:

Right after my junior year of high school, i tried the short hair with the texturizer - you know, the style E-V-E had everybody thinking they would look good with. After failed attempts at the barber shop continued to leave the top of my head looking like an electrocuted monkey, I got up the courage during my first semester of college to shave ALL that shit off of my head. I got so many compliments and felt so free. It was the late 90′s and this ‘natural hair movement’ (like when is the simple act of combing your damn head without the assistance of a blazing chemical or hot rake considered a movement…but I digress) was not embraced as much. People would tell me I had the head for it, I looked exotic and so on. I have went between shaved head to TWA to short twists to microbraids to box braids to Senegalese twists to flat twists to cornrows to fades to Kid ‘N Play box cuts to comb twists to Marley braids. But through all of that, there is nothing like getting up out of a barber’s chair with nothing but the wind against your scalp. There is nothing like the look on your daughter’s face when she sees you have went and ‘did it again’. I love my baldheaded ass self!

I am not an advocate of shaming anyone for however they choose to wear their hair, but I am glad that more women are embracing their natural state. I am glad that many women are choosing to be more courageous and versatile with self-expression through their crown. I am glad that Black is Beautiful is slowly, but surely, becoming normalized in mainstream society. Black mothers should go see this with their daughters and allow them to see what a REAL super hero looks like. 

Black women are STRENGTH

Black women are FIERCE

Black women are THE SHIT

Monsieur

Request: reader is the cousin of g.wash […] and they’re close. it’s Washington’s bday and reader get introduced to Laffy at dinner 

Pairing: Lafayette x reader

Warnings: terrible french, a pov swap, historical

Word count: 1,166

A/N: French translations (sorry there’s a few) Le plaisir était pour moi.’ means “the pleasure is all mine” and “je m’appelle” means “my name is”; ‘je suis’ means “I am”, and “Ça fait longtemps que je n'ai pas parlé français” means “it’s been a long time since I’ve spoken french”, ‘bien sûr’ means “of course” and ‘il est d'une suffisance écœurante’ means “he is sickeningly smug” aaaand ‘Ecris-moi bientôt’ means “write soon”

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You tried not to gawk as you entered your cousin’s mt. Vernon home. Well furnished and looked after, it was one of the nicer homes you’d been in since you’d returned from France.

Your cousin George was standing in centre of the room, greeting his guests. Nervous, you smoothed down your skirts and wondered if he would recognise you after so long. 

Before you had left to France you and George had been close- two seven year olds with similar ideas and goals. Only George was a General now and you were a woman, waiting at home.

“Hello George,” you said as you approached him, sweeping a curtsy, “it’s been a while. Happy Birthday!”

You saw him do a double take, his polite smiling quickly turning into a grin. “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, “How are you?”

“Not nearly as well as you, it seems,” you teased, easily falling back into the give-and-take you used to delight in. “This general lark seems fun. I’m sure I could manage it just as well.”

He raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. “I’m sure you could.”

You found yourself seated next to George and opposite his wife at the table. You sipped at the wine and eagerly caught up with your cousin. 

About half way through the dessert course the doors opened, admitting a late diner. George stood and nodded, gesturing for the newcomer to take the empty seat on your left. 

“Y/N,” he said, “this is the Marquis.”

You turned to greet the Marquis. He was tall, skin dark and hair pulled back into a bun. He wore the uniform of a revolutionary and looked, if you were honest, breathtakingly handsome in it. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said. 

He smiled charmingly and bent to kiss your hand, “Le plaisir était pour moi.”

“Merci,” you replied, blushing. “Je m’appelle Y/N L/N.” 

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