#Simone Browne

[notchainedtotrauma]

Runaway slave advertisements were not only about ascribing physical details to the runaway, but also offered the slave owner's assessment of the fugitive's character.

from Dark Matters: On the Surveillance of Blackness by Simone Browne

[mcntsee]

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

[vanpalmr]

the yellowjackets cast teen & adult counterparts

[aoioozora]

Brown Eyes

Simon had always been conscious of how boring his eyes seemed. They were just brown, plain ol' boring brown and he hated it. He didn't have Johnny's sparkling bright sky blue or Price's ocean blue. His was just plain, boring, brown, the color of dirt.

Not until you came along, you sweet little thing.

"You have pretty eyes," you told him when you first met him. He was shocked.

"Uh, thanks," he could only muster without appearing affected by the compliment.

But whenever you'd speak to him, he'd notice you peering into his eyes with no thought behind your own. You were so distracted by figuring out the shade of brown that his eyes were that you'd not hear a thing he said. Simon was glad that his blushing cheeks were masked.

You were fascinated by his eyes. In the shade they were inky black, an abyss and you found it befitting his mysterious persona. But one day when you were in his office, a ray of evening light slipped in through the cracks of his blinds, settling gently over his eyes. His melanin-rich irises didn't seem bothered by the light in the slightest, and again, you stared.

The brightened abyss was a rich, chocolatey brown, light enough to reveal his normally obscured pupils. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, the golden threads of silk delicately shimmering.

"Are you listening to me?"

You snapped out of your daze. "Sir?"

Those same gentle eyes stared back at you; his voice hinted mild annoyance but his eyes reflected an unusual softness, like he wasn't willing to reprimand you.

"Why aren't you paying attention?" he demanded anyway, crossing his burly arms over his chest as he sat back.

You pursed your lips. "I got lost in your eyes, Lieutenant," you admitted with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

He let out a grunt, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks again. He was not going to admit that he was affected by those same words you told him when you first met him and you continued to tell him by always wordlessly staring at him.

He could not lie that he liked your attention; that your relentless gazing was the key wriggling and turning in the lock that kept his heart caged away.

"Why d'you like them so much?" he leaned forward.

You could not help being honest. "They're beautiful," you answered, your voice heavy with genuineness, "They remind me of chocolate, and coffee, and unfrosted cakes." You paused, but he waited.

"Like dense forests, the color of wood," you explained, "Like soil..."

His brows furrowed. Soil that is stepped on. His insecurity filled in.

"Like soil that is the foundation of both massive trees and for the little saplings," you continued, "your eyes are the color of something so important."

The tinge of animosity in his eyes softened.

"You know, in the shade, your eyes are dark and it really suits how mysterious you can be sometimes," you said with a gentle smile, feeling a little embarrassed at this point, "but when in the light," you lifted your eyes to meet his, "I can almost see the gentleness and care that is normally hidden."

He could almost hear the click of a key turning and a lock opening. He knew that the eyes were the window to the soul, but never had he seen such an unprecedented act in action, and him being the victim of such sweet an analysis.

So this was the outcome of all your relentless gazing: to figure him out, to make sense of him, to understand him, to appreciate him.

And for that, his heart was now yours.

[masterlist]

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon Riley, who beats it into Soap to do leg checks in kickboxing by repeatedly smashing his left leg with kicks until he can't walk, because 'that's how you learn things' and then feels an unexpected wave of regret and shame when he sees the huge purpling bruise on Soap's thigh the next day as they pass each other in the shower. When Soap catches him looking, he flashes that big cocksure smile with those puppy dog blue eyes full of hero worship, "aye, L.T., shan't forget tae check now, eh?" and that just makes it a thousand times worse.

[boowritess]

second addition to this post lol

retired!simon riley - sorry chef!simon riley x reader

imagine this motherfucker learns how to cook your cultures traditional foods better than you.

like maybe he had hit up an aunty, your ma, your dad, uncle, sister, brother, cousin, nan, granddad - whoever - to ask about one of your cultures traditional food that's special to you.

so they come teach him, or send him detailed steps, or probably video call him (but let's be fr they probably went over to teach him)

and that is the only time he doesn't ever raise his voice or back talks the person he's sharing a kitchen with - because why would he??? they're teaching him.

idk i just - AHHH i find it so cute imagining this towering fucking goliath of a man standing next to your nan or maybe even your dad - whoever - and he's just listening and watching so intensely.

the kitchen is filled with spices, there's music playing that he doesn’t quite understand the lyrics but it's nice and catchy.

but you come home, and you think that perhaps a family member come in and cooked it because there's no way - yet there he is. making it himself in the kitchen. hands working far better than yours at a task that you were practically raised doing.

and when you sit to eat, maybe you should feel jealous - but fuck

it tastes exactly like your family member that makes it... maybe even better.

as you eat, you look at him, eyes shining with a sort of warmth that's not just loving - it's far more intimate - more homey and one that's so personal. and he can tell because when he's looking in your eyes and there's thousands more staring back at him.

"you're making more of this..." the demand is firm, but with the way you speak, it's clear it's just covering up how much it means to you that he did this.

"whatever you want, lovie..." he softly chuckles, more than happy to adhere to your demands, pressing a kiss to your forehead before eating it himself.

a/n: something for my fellow ethnic babies xx

[bebemoon]

look for the name INGA (requested by anonymous) | la perla brown sheer lace bodysuit (c. 199o's), simone rocha long embellished bow in pink, christian dior beaded pearl choker, enfants riches déprimés stockings and heels (a/w 2o24), carolein smit pearl-wrapped rat art piece (2o17), houbigant "le parfum ideal" eau de parfum (c. 192o's), french carved celluloid swan brooch (c. 192o's), pearlandi (on etsy) handmade turkish crucifix indiviulal gold charm earring, nell brinkley drawing of a girl on the phone with a cherub switchboard operator, antique victorian mesh slide garter w/ dangle tassels, oversized brown czech glass cocktail ring, antique french-style chased repoussé gilt telephone w/ carved jade inset

[2000s-music-tourney]

Song with the lowest score gets eliminated

[notchainedtotrauma]

As a way of knowing, dark sousveillance speaks to not only observing those in authority (the slave patroller or the plantation overseer, for instance) but also to the use of a keen and experiential insight of plantation surveillance in order to resist it.

from Dark Matters: On the Surveillance of Blackness by Simone Browne

[mcntsee]

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

[welcometogrouchland]

Been gone for a hot second helping out over at the DCtwt gatcha for gaza event (first three pieces! Extremely proud of that aquaman) so haven't had much time to do art outside that but here's some crumbs!

[thoughtsmindless]

🤎🤎

[amustikas]

first meetings

[shunshuntaiga]

Soap has scary dog privileges and he abuses them

[machonnes]

BRIDGERTON (2020-) 2.05 | An Unthinkable Fate

[bebemoon]

look for the name NADEZHDA (requested by anonymous) | simone rocha sheer tulle frill cascade cape dress w/ faux fur trim (a/w 2o24), { beauty } fairy faces backstage @ christian dior couture s/s 2o17, harlot hands "caroline" white and pink beaded freshwater pearls necklace, antonio maretti "slumber party" eau de parfum (cream, vanilla, benzoin, caramel, chocolate, brown sugar, musk, praline), sandy liang mary jane pointe shoes in ballet satin