#British beauty brand

[letstalkbeautyuk]

Miller Harris Perfume

[beautifully-lumpy]

caddicarus franchise logos by crisppyboat

[soovyclub]

7 British Cruelty-Free & Vegan Makeup and Skincare Brands A guide listing some of the best British cruelty-free and vegan beauty brands, including the reasons to consider locally made cosmetics and the benefits of switching to kinder plant-based makeup, skincare and haircare products made in the UK. https://www.soovy.club/blog/british-uk-cruelty-free-vegan-makeup-skincare-hair-brands

[papirouge]

the way some of you will literally bend over backwards to whiteknight a man who's dissed on his looks, I-

Female socialization gone wrong.

[angstystoryteller]

ALEXANDER KNOX as HUMPHREY VAN WEYDEN in THE SEA WOLF (1941)

[perlcosmetics]

Know British Skincare Beauty Brands - Perl Cosmetics

Perl Cosmetics British skincare beauty brands are highly regarded worldwide for their quality and effectiveness. The antioxidants and anti-inflammatory properties found in matcha can prevent cell damage, helping the skin stay healthy and fighting the effects of scarring.

[don-lichterman]

How (not) to buy fake makeup - BBC

How (not) to buy fake makeup – BBC

Subscribe and 🔔 to the BBC 👉 https://bit.ly/BBCYouTubeSub Watch the BBC first on iPlayer 👉 https://bbc.in/iPlayer-Home From visiting factory floors in Los Angeles to the sewers of San Francisco, the group have explored how the industry operates and its impact on the environment. They are beginning to question the true cost of the beauty industry, and on their quest for answers they meet a wide…

[efingcod]

Lipstick Masquerade - Chapter 1

Captain John Price x fem!Reader

You are a bartender at a high-end club that serves very powerful and dangerous men. Price is Price. He's undercover.

TW: The general kind of misogyny you would expect from the clients at an establishment like that. Mostly hinted at, if I can avoid stating outright. Sexuality.

This idea has been floating in my head for some time so I knew eventually I would get it out.

The vinyl of your boot creaks as you stretch out your ankle. It’s been such a long night. You take a deep breath and check your makeup in the mirror. You slip two fingers between your corset and your breasts, producing a tube of lipstick, Blood Red, which you swipe over your lips. You tuck the lipstick safely away and stick your finger in your mouth to remove the excess lipstick. No sense in looking this hot if you have lipstick on your teeth. Then you blow your reflection a kiss.

You back away from the mirror to get a good look at yourself. Your ass looks amazing in your surprisingly comfortable leather pants. Your outfit was chosen for both comfort and sex appeal. Hard to find, but you knew where to shop. You yank your corset up and, heels clicking on the tile, exit the employee bathroom.

The booming music of the club, muted in the bathroom, now fills your ears. Things have begun to quiet down a bit after the rush in the evening. It’s always like this on Tuesdays. The clients check into their hotels, get a steak at The James Tavern, and then head here. They get a drink and see their favorite girls in the back. Despite the fact that the only thing you do for money is serve drinks, for some of them, you’re their favorite girl. Some would love to bring you to the back. They see you as a challenge. In your experience, some men, even when placed in front of a row of beautiful women, will always eventually turn their heads to see what else is out there.

And that’s fine by you; you pour heavily and leave with a fat wad of cash every night. Everything is in cash. No one wants a transaction from this place on paper.

You grab your towel and do a quick wipe down of the bar counter. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a man approach the bar. You saunter over, a smile widening across your face. You look at him through your long fake eyelashes and say, “What can I get for you?”

Oh, he’s good looking.

Not that you don’t see good-looking men come in and out of here. Even the hot ones buy it from time to time. But this one, he looks a bit more down-to-earth. Even in his nice suit and with his hair slicked back like that, the uniquely styled facial hair tells you he's not like some of these other overgroomed and sculpted assholes. He places his hands on the counter. Fingers cleaned up, buffed, no hint of even clear polish. Someone had a job working over his callouses, but you didn’t miss the remnants on the pads of his knuckles.

Well, perhaps he was hired muscle.

Either scoping out the place for his boss or cashing in on his employee appreciation gift. It made no difference to you.

He orders a whiskey neat. Not top shelf either. A man who knows what he wants and he doesn’t seem concerned with impressing anyone.

Interesting.

You’re also not surprised when he speaks with a gruff British accent. Again, the facial hair gives it all away. “Thank you,” He says as you pour his drink and hand it to him. You note that not once in the past five minutes has he even looked at your tits. That’s practically a record. You doubt most of the regulars, besides the ones who favored you, of course, could pick your face out of a lineup. Which was good; you didn’t need anyone hounding you while you were shopping at the grocery store. Now, your décolletage - well, that was a different story. You smile warmly at him and tell him the price as you pass a tray to him.

There’s a hot second where you wonder if he’ll balk at it, but he just grabs his wallet. Nice leather, nondescript, and practical - a brand you don’t recognize. He counts out the cash, clearly familiar with the currency, and places it on the tray.

You take the tray and return the bottle on the way to the cash register. As you count it out you realize he’s left you a nice tip. You already knew you were going to like him and you're always pleased when you've got a good read on someone.

When you turn back around, you see he is still facing forward. He wasn’t staring at your ass, nor was he enjoying the floor show.

Unusual.

But as you think that, he turns in his seat toward the stage. Sandy is currently hanging from the pole, doing the splits in mid-air. She tried to show you how once, but you decided you were never going to be that flexible. The tips of her long strawberry blonde hair just brush across the stage. The light picks them up, making the strands seem to sparkle. You can’t recall if that’s her actual hair or a well-applied wig. Not that anyone cares, she’s beautiful and skilled; it would be hard for anyone to keep their eyes off of her.

With no one to serve and nothing to clean up for the moment, you lean on the bar and watch. Even though you’ve seen it before, you’re always impressed when she spins around the pole upside down and, at the same time, manages to remove her bra with one hand. The newcomer chuckles good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you.

“Talented gal, isn’t she?” You grin at him and make a soft humming sound of agreement. “Can I get you anything else?” You ask. He puts a hand up and shakes his head. “Long night?” “Something like that,” He says. “We do have quieter rooms,” You suggest. “Nah, not ready for that yet,” He says with another chuckle. You note something in his eyes and wonder if he’ll ever be ready. Most of the men who come through here have a certain way about them. Posturing. A little money, and they can own every woman in the room.

Well, almost every.

That’s part of what they pay for, of course. That feeling of power. This guy didn’t seem to want it. Or maybe you prefer to think that.

Were you just getting a little sucked in by those soft gray-blue eyes?

“What’s your name?” He asks. “Uh- Jessie,” You say. It takes you a moment to recall your fake name. It’s not like you’re going to give the clients a real name, not that most of them ever ask. “I’m Owen,” He offers. You know a fake name delivery when you hear one. And that’s fine. Most clients preferred their anonymity as well. “Nice to meet you, Owen,” You say.

He looks ready to say something else when a group of several large men- bodyguards- walk through the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see Owen straighten up. You glance at him, apologetic, but he waves you off. The bodyguards part to make way for their boss. It’s a bigwig. Everyone just calls him Mister.

You conjure his usual order with fast but controlled movements. It’s in front of him before his ass hits the stool. You note that he’s wearing a particularly gorgeous gray suit of silk wool. A suit sold by a store that requires a referral letter and a credit check before you step one foot in the door. The way you hear it, the place doesn’t publish their address. Word of mouth, just like here.

“That’s why I like you, Jessie,” He says, giving you a wink. You’re one of his favorites. Luckily, he respects your boundaries. You mix the finest Manhattan he’s ever had, and he’d never do anything to interrupt that process. He had actually said that to you once. The thought made your skin crawl. You don’t know what he does in those quieter rooms. But the girls he chooses come back with red-rimmed eyes and purses filled to the brim with cash. Some of them take long breaks, some never come back. You smile your Blood Red smile at him.

You wait for a moment in case he needs something else. Despite his favoritism, he doesn’t have a high tolerance for you waiting on anyone else. But this time, he seems content to watch Sandy dance. He says something disgusting about her breasts. Then he speaks in a low voice to his head bodyguard, Lars. Lars looks like an extra from a Thor movie. But he’s not someone you should mistake for a meathead. There’s a reason Mister chose him as his head bodyguard. He speaks to Lars as if you’re not there. He always does that. You know more than you’d like about the ins and outs of his business because he thinks you’re just some dumb girl who’s never going to do anything about it.

Sometimes, you imagine going to the cops, telling them everything you know, and taking down every bastard who frequents this place. But you know that no one will listen to you. And you’re sure that some of them line their pockets in cash.

Mister doesn’t seem interested in you at the moment. It seems he’s found a companion for the night. You breathe a sigh of relief when he and his entourage leave your bar and move to one of the rooms in back.

Then you glance in Owen’s direction. Against your better judgment, you've found his presence comforting, but his stool is empty.

[letstalkbeautyuk]

Miller Harris L'Eau Magnetic EDP

Miller Harris was founded 15 years ago by expert parfumer Lyn Harris who spent five years training in Paris, then in Grasse at Robertet, the world’s leader in natural aromatic ingredients. Whilst respecting tradition, Miller Harris strives to push the boundaries, creating exquisitely crafted fragrances that are innovative yet timeless. Miller Harris perfumes are beautiful, luxurious and…

[diejager]

My deep dark desire for a distillery au wherein each force is a competing distillery and you yeet an expert taster reader in there who is in charge of judging each whisky and ranking them. Either they are pulling out all the stops on your tour and treating you like a princess or doing the opposite and threatening you to rank them the highest :')

Mhairi, I am the worse person to ask about whiskey, my parents have delicious smelling ones, fruity and spicy ones, but taste wise? I gag like there’s no tomorrow, especially gin!! I hate gin. The only thing I can stomach so far is sweet, coffee and cream flavoured Baileys Irish Cream. (I know there’s Irish whiskey in it, but it’s only 17% compared to the 40% of any other whiskeys)

Eau De Vie Cw: Alcohol drinking, whiskey taste, tell me if I missed any.

Whisky had always been your favourite, your little secret that you shared with your closest friends alone —your penchent for judging whiskeys and bourbons alone, managing to include rum and brandy in rare occasions. So when you were approached by a known figure in the Whiskey industry that acted as the face for many distilleries across the world, you couldn’t turn down the offer when you were given so much in a simple deal.

You were responsible to drink and rank many popular brands by taste and smell alone, the only person delegated to become the judge. You were given the privilege of taking home a bottle of each brand after this competition, another reason to accept it. So you signed the contract without a second of hesitation, shaking her hand to conclude the deal before she left you squirming with excitement in your office home.

You were flown from your city to a calm part of the Scottish countryside, a chalet overlooking the Scottish highlands and its green beauty. This was the quaint house you would temporarily live in with the rest of the team orchestrating this friendly competition, leaving the connecting house up the cliff side to the different distilleries. From what you’ve heard, Kate Laswell - Kate you called her after a few meetings that had fully bloomed into a friendship of alcohol connoissoir - the participating teams were the British company 141 - who in coalition to Chimera and the ULF - would represent their alliance, the American Shadows, the multi-national KorTac and the Russian brewery Konni. They were all popular brands distilling whiskey and brandy in their own countries, creating a plethora of tastes and sensations that would explode on your tongue after a few sips.

You were ecstatic, your mouth salivating at the simple thought of tasting the finest whiskeys from around the world, but you had a few days to rest and tour the side of Scotland you were shipped to. What you expected to be calm and mild-mannered men and women from their side of the world to meet and eat with refined etiquette, was shattered the second you peered through the door after walking down the connecting path from your chalet to their house.

They were loud, rambunctious in the very sense of it, loud and jovial, hurling insults and hissing out jeers at one another. It was a dogfight between brewers, like cats and dogs. You felt like a stranger, gawking at the group hurling words at one another until it all stopped, the open living room falling in silence when they heard you drop your bag on the polished wood. You’ve never seen humans move so fast until the second after the silence, scrambling to clean the room up and wooing you with their compliments and sweet pleasantries to appease you.

They gave you a tour of the house, the rich wine cellar that was open to you whenever you wanted a drink, the wooden patio that had it’s own lounge and bar, and the various rooms in the mansion-like chalet. They all vied for your attention, ripping one another’s throat to have a second of your attention, kissing up to you with sweet compliments and even sweeter praises.

The Brits - well, three English and one Scott - were a good mix of mature and zealousness, low voices and near-overwhelming figures with their broad shoulders and stocky mass. They came with other people to represent their company: Farah and her devoted Alex from ULF, and the crude Nikolai and Krueger from Chimera.

The Shadows were American, the most American you’ve ever seen, energetic and determined to win you over, and the CEO, a man with a southern accent and a seductive smirk, swiping you off your feet with pet names that made you fluster.

KorTac had as many accents as they had people of different countries, both men and women skilled in multiple languages and conversing so fluently that you started to question if you were on the same planet.

Konni was rough on the edges, their leading figure as scheming as he was gentlemanly, his thin lips letting out the most vicious praises to have you squirming under his dark gaze and unmoving determination for the win.

Days later, you met them at the compound farther down the road, away from the beauty of the coast and cliff, a long table exposing their finest to you. Poured in a cups, one with ice and another without, they were left for you to decide which would win the prize for both straight and on the rocks. Today was the day you would nominate one as the best, standing higher than everyone else without bias despite the times they rendered you a flustered mess and made you unendingly grateful for their help.

Your pallet exploded with flavour every time you sipped on a different brand, eyes rolling to the back of your head with the deliciousness of every bottle. 141 brought three bottles of their aged whiskey: a smoky Scotch Whisky made in the same Highlands you were tasting it, the bitter spiciness of rye whiskey from the American branch of the ULF - credits to Alex for introducing it - and the woody and fruity aroma of Chimera’s whiskey. Shadows had brought - unsurprisingly - their most popular types of whiskey to the table: Bourbon made in their own distillery in Kentucky, a sweet and mellow sub-type of their first one and the smooth flavour of their wheat whiskey. KorTac had a large variety to it’s collection: a floral tasting whiskey that outmatched Hibiki Harmony, a nutty sensation of a bottle made in Ireland and the rich and peaty on of a danish-made bottle. And finally, three Russian bottles from the biggest distillery in Russia: a sweet and smoky bottle, a second one with rich malt and honey, and a third focusing on aroma with it’s spicy odour and fruity taste.

They were all so delicious, if you had these bottles when you working at the bar, mixing concoctions for paying clients, you would’ve been overjoyed, but those days were long gone, your priority standing elsewhere than fulfilling your dream. Truthfully, you didn’t know who to give the medal, the flavours so vast and unique. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if you took a second or third sip just to be sure.

Part 2

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[shotmrmiller]

A chance encounter.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F! Reader

TW: none other than TOOTH ROTTING CUTE FLUFF

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

You have had a bad week but today has been horrific. You had awoken 15 minutes before the alarm, get up to shower, and the water had gone ice cold when you had shampoo in your hair.Stumbling out after a freezing shower, you were pulling on a tank top when the back of it twisted because you didn't fully dry yourself so that had you fighting it for 10 minutes and you still had to squeeze into an office skirt and button up. You ran as fast as you could in heels to your car and drove at an illegal speed to try and get to work on time— only to have your boss drown you in paperwork before snapping at you about a lack of coffee on his desk. Your only reprieve is that it's Friday and you don't work Monday. Fuck this job, fuck this week, and fuck whoever jammed the paper printer and left it like that.

Looking at the clock, you see the end of your shift has come— and you couldn't grab your keys and sprint out of the door fast enough. All you could think about was going to a grocery store and getting a bottle of wine before going home and ordering some Mexican food.

----

Standing in the alcohol section, you're biting the tip of your thumb as you try to pick which brand of cheap wine would give you the least painful hangover when a baritone voice from behind you interrupts your train of thought.

"I wouldn't recommend you a two-buck chuck for a Friday evening."

Without facing him, you say, "I'm sorry?"

With a lovely British accent, he translates. "A box of red Moscato will serve you in nothing but a terrible headache."

Scoffing, you turn to tell him to piss off— but your retort is caught in your throat. A beautiful man is the owner of that voice. Bronze complexion and tall like a runway model with a cap that had the U.K. flag on it. Chocolate eyes, straight nose, sculpted jaw, lush lips and a 5 o'clock shadow. He looked like a man out of a romance movie.

Your cheeks redden and stammer, "I— uh, don't want to pay for a good bottle I plan on getting drunk on."

He lets out a laugh, straight white teeth with pointy canines— you curse your weakness for mythical creatures— and extends his hand.

"Gaz. Gaz Garrick."

Shaking his hand, you give him your name.

"Well, speaking of wine, I'd love to personally recommend you a bottle over dinner."

'This isn't real,' you think. 'What could a man carved by Michaelangelo himself want with someone like you?'

He takes in your gaping mouth and widened eyes as a response.

"If you want, of course," he falters, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfo—"

"No!" you interrupt, "I mean yes! I'd love to go out to dinner with you, Kyle."

He relaxes his shoulders before letting out another entrancing laugh.

"Right, well, if you like— since I know you've got plans tonight— we exchange cell numbers and we can plan a date when it's the most convenient for you. I'll be in America for a bit."

You're too excited to wonder at what he meant by that and take out your phone, nodding eagerly. You're about to ask him what his number is when he shoves his unlocked phone into your hand and takes yours. Exchanging phones again, you look down at his contact page. Kyle with a blue heart next to it.

You're blushing furiously but look up at him and smile.

"Alrighty, Gaz. I gotta get goin', I got a couch and take-out calling my name. But I will text you."

"I hope you do, love. Otherwise, I'll be gutted."

Grabbing the box of wine, your heels click as you walk down to the register— and you can feel the burn of his gaze on your back. Someone somewhere was looking out for you because you just happened to be wearing the most flattering office skirt you own. Paying and grabbing the receipt, you leave the store with a pep in your step and a silly little smile on your face. You couldn't wait to see him again.

---

Finally at home in an oversized tee and sweatpants, you're lounging on your sofa. Fluffy socked feet up on your coffee table with a full wine glass in your one hand, you're changing the TV from Youtube to the Netflix you never use. Taking a sip as you scroll through the popular on Netflix list when you see a recognizable face.

You shoot up from the couch, spine ramrod straight as you squint your eyes at the screen.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Gaz?"

'Last letter from your lover' starring up-and-coming british star Kyle Garrick---- The letters after that blur together. No shot he's ACTUALLY from a movie!

Slamming your plastic wine glass down on the table, you scramble to your phone before sending 'Gaz' a text.

You: Hey.

Gaz: Hey, love. I didn't think you'd reach out so soon. Can't say I'm not glad though.

You: Yeah well, I just happened to come across something peculiar and I thought of you.

Gaz: Oh? I'm flattered I made such an impression.

You: Yeah! I just saw the preview to 'Last letter from your lover'. You wouldn't happen to be Kyle Garrick?

Gaz: Ah— right. Listen, my name IS Gaz. It's what friends and loved ones call me. You not recognizing me from the get-go was a breath of fresh air. I understand if this could be an issue for you.

You: It just took me by surprise. How about you make it up to me tomorrow evening? You've set high expectations for your choices in wine.

Gaz: Absolutely, love. I promise I won't disappoint. Tomorrow then, at 7.

You grab your sofa cushion and smush your face into it before screaming at the top of your lungs. Grabbing the box of wine, you store it in the fridge and get ready for bed. No hangover for you, after all—You've got a date!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

[adickaboutspoons]

When a Steard is not a Beard

I want to talk about the significance of Stede's beard in the opening dream sequence of s2e1, and how we know from Lucius in the first season that "not every beard is a beard". Of course SOME beards are just beards - most of the Revenge and QA crew sport face fuzz of some sort or another, and it's just How They Look. But, narratively speaking, when attention is called to facial hair in this show, it's all about deception and hiding one's true self.

We have Blackbeard, who has built his brand around his eponymous facial fur, but feels stifled by the way the success of said brand has left him bored out of his skull, and frustrated by the way his reputation has been co-opted and twisted into something inhuman. (And by poor Taika's accounts, the beard itself was literally stifling; unbearably hot to wear, and how he could hardly move the bottom half of his face lest the glue start peeling off). It's only when Ed shaves it off at the academy that he's able to start really approaching the question of what it means to be Just Ed. And, of course, we have the way he smeared kohl across his mouth and jaw in a frightful simulacrum of a beard as part of his Kraken transformation at the end of season 1.

We have Jim, who uses a fake beard to conceal their identity while on the run after having killed Alfeo de la Vaca. Only once that beard is discarded are they able to really think about who they are and how that doesn't fit in the narrow parameters of a gender binary. We see them go back into the beard when they re-commit themself to the vengeance quest, posing as a bearded priest in order to capture Geraldo, but, again divested of the beard, Jim is able to consider whether completing the vengeance quest and allowing their life to be consumed with a family that is dead and gone is something they want, or if they might be happier committing themself to a different path, and finding a family that will give them the love and support their own no longer can. And then, of course, the way Jim paints on a simulacrum beard when they are forced into a life of violence as part of Kraken!Ed’s crew.

We have Heartbroken Voyeur Stede’s comment about how Calico Jack had nice hair, but “his moustache is weird.” Shortly after, we learn that CJ has been a duplicitous, manipulative asshole the entire time, his only goal to lure Ed away from the Revenge before the British came to kill Stede.

So what does it say that Stede is dreaming about himself with a full beard? To have Dream!Ed specifically comment on it? Because they’re calling attention to it, so, hey, hi, how are you? You have my attention!

I think it’s not JUST that Stede is casting himself in the role of the dashing hero with all the trappings thereof, indulging in a fantasy about a joyous, romantic reunion with his beloved. Because this fantasy has some MUCH darker connotations than the sun-drenched beach would suggest. This Dashing Hero™ persona isn’t Stede’s idealized self. It’s the culmination of all his insecurities about not being the kind of person who is worthy of the attention and love of someone as impossibly cool as Blackbeard.

(Incidentally, I think it significant that Ed, in the dream, ALSO has his full beard. This more than anything is what clues me into the fact that Stede is still trying to measure up to the Legendary Pirate Blackbeard - not Just Ed with his soft, beautiful clean-shaven face, nor even a more realistic version with a beard that’s coming in quite nicely, but isn’t anywhere near the epic proportions that it once was, as we see with the scenes of real Kraken!Ed)

We learn later in the episode that Stede has been dragging his feet about setting out to reunite with Ed in spite of the all the money he and the crew have managed to scrape together working for Jackie, and the true reason behind his reticence is that he is still genuinely convinced that Ed is better off and happier without him. Even when reunited with Lucius in episode 2 and Lucius suggests that Ed’s time with Stede was “as good as it’s going to get for [Ed]”, Stede’s response is that he’s “not ready to believe that.” Stede really just is incapable of conceptualizing a reality in which Just Stede could ever be enough.

(And don’t get me started on Lucius’ beard! Lucius who was the emotional intelligence of the crew in the first season, and is now a guarded, brittle, traumatized shell of who he was. He’s 100% for sure not hiding behind a façade of butched-up toughness. Nope. Not. At. All.)

So in Stede's dreams, he’s the epitome of the kind of guy that WOULD be good enough. The kind of guy who has a beard and wears leather pants (hello queer urge to become the person that you sexually desire, how are you?). The kind of guy with neat, tidy, barely even wavy hair instead of perfectly coifed cherub curls. The kind of guy who, if he wears a fine fabric at all, it’s wrapped around his waist where it can be mostly concealed by a thick, macho belt, and trailing in front of his crotch like a fabric phallus (and, say, if Ed feels like touching it, maybe there’s something else in the vicinity that he might also be interested in touching?). The kind of guy who is tough and competent and can kill without remorse or pity.

[ellieverkuasidees]

if the requests are still open, I’m thinking of 141 boys having to work with a Canadian operator, and seeing all the different things like food and climate, etc. don’t have to do it tho, I just barely see canadian reader. Thank you! <3

I’m not Canadian myself BUT! I used to live in a northern state so it still counts! I know just a little to get by so, I’m sorry if I offended you or anyone :(((

when you first joined, the guys (especially Ghost and Gaz) would just keep say “eh?” at the end of their sentences. Or just say stuff relating to England’s kinda of British rule in Canada.

Soap, strangely enough was actually curious about Canada. Always asking if the French there was different from European French. But don’t worry, he’ll rip on you. Asking you if you want syrup or syrup

Price Likes to call you off-brand American. Now that piss you off a little. Off-brand?! How dare he! But nonetheless, you're used for spy work in France or Canada itself. Considering the fact that most can't tell the difference.

Ghost is a lot nicer to you. Mostly because he doesn't give a fuck at all. Or anytime of day. But he can't hide his British pride for long. Always talking about how grateful you should be for having such a great country thanks to the United Kingdom. You just walk away as he chuckles, he mostly does this to get you away from him

When new recruits meet you can hear snickers and laugh when they hear your accent. As much as you huff and puff, they never listen to you. But when either of the boys(including Alex >:)) , they'll shut their mouths as quickly as possible. Lucky for them, they can enjoy having to train in the beautiful snow of the Canadian snow and shovel up moose and goose poops off your driveway :))

sorry if this was short :(( again, I don't know much about Canada but I tried :>>> please reblog for more and don't be shy to request! I might take a while tho!

[perlcosmetics]

British Skincare Beauty Brands - Perl Cosmetics

British beauty and skincare brands are highly regarded worldwide for their quality and effectiveness. Some popular brands include Perl Cosmetics is about creating minimal formulas which provide maximum results, with each product designed to give you the confidence to glow in your skin.

[mirai-desu]

Soloveiko Songbirds and Pysanka Eggs in Liverpool for Eurovision 2023

There are 12 Soloveiko Songbirds representing different Ukrainian regions placed around Liverpool at the moment! They play music as you come up on them, and some have a button you can press as well to hear more. Click here for more info; these are all my own photos (I managed not to get many people in the photos because I got here earlier that most other fans attending ESC, but trust me, there are very popular!)

Inside the Liverpool One shopping centre, there are beautiful Pysanka Eggs as well!

Also several iconic Superlambananas are also painted as Ukrainian flags!

The whole city is decked out in ESC 2023 branding, and loads of flag bunting! The Eurovision Village has a whole dedicated area to the Ukrainian culture called Discover Ukraine, and Kalush Orchestra’s ESC winning outfits are in the British Music Experience museum! (more on that in a different post 😉)

[ijustthinkhesneat]

I guess I should put out a bat fam basic headcanon statement…..

Batfam Headcanon Baseline:

Alfred (69…nice)

-5’8

-British

-Is in possession of the coveted last brain cell

-Can and will kill for very little

-Despite having infinite shopping money for groceries he loves a bargain, coupon king

Bruce (35)

-6’4 (big boi)

-Italian (Southern Region) and Russian

-A brand of autistic that could be described with the word “grumch”

-In love with Clark

-Is a himbo AND a wet cat

Dick (21)

-5’10 (says he’s 6’0)

-Romani, Portuguese and French

-ADHD and joint hypermobility

-Pansexual menace

-Fashion ✨Icon✨

-Should quit being a cop and become a beauty guru

Cass (18)

-5’5

-Chinese

-L E S B I A N

-Selectively mute

-Does fake ASL around pretentious rich people, actually just Naruto ninjutsu signs

-Loves to grill a cheese

Jason (18)

-6’7 (Biiig Boi)

-Puerto Rican and Scottish

-A chef a connoisseur

-Hates Cops

-Bisexual/Greysexual (he’s not sex repulsed just not like that about it)

Tim (15)

-5’4 (pocket sized)

-Vietnamese and German

-Trans King 👑

-In a polycule with Kon and Bernard (maybe Bart too depends on the time of day)

-He was a sk8er boi

Duke (12)

-5’0 (A growing boy)

-Jamaican and Dominican

-The token straight

-Sleeper mario kart assassin

-Airdrops memes at galas to his siblings to see who will break first

Damian (7)

- 4’5 (he so tiny)

-Italian, Russian, Chinese and Arab

-Will ask if you have games on your phone

-Not allowed on the internet unless he is watching cat videos

-Also Autistic