this is the saddest fucking thing i have ever seen

(Reblogged from shorm)


how come every vampire in vampire stories is a hundred years old tho why cant we get a newbie vampire like

"how long have you been 17"
“about a year and a half actually its kinda trippy”

(Reblogged from thatassholewhat)



How cool is it to have the actual mineral sample that is pictured on your Introduction to Mineralogy text book? The Rhodochrosite frogs are just creepy.

Those look like salamanders.

(Reblogged from betterbemeta)




…that’s surprisingly pleasing…

Kind of mystified right now…

I have one in my house

(Source: best-of-memes)

(Reblogged from youbestnotmiss)




M.I.A raps with her regular english accent so idk why iggy azalea out here doin impressions of Diamond from Crime Mobb



(Reblogged from verysherri)



InkTober 01 with beautiful plus size model Olivia Campbell ♥ Pentel Brushpen

(Reblogged from thoughtsofablackgirl)
(Reblogged from gryphynshadow)


jesus mario what is your damage




jesus mario what is your damage


(Source: e-n-o-n)

(Reblogged from beanbunny)


876. Muggleborns from all houses banding together to figure out how to get cable at Hogwarts. They figure it out, and begin to form clubs based on their fandom to watch their shows together. Purebloods come in out of curiosity and rapidly get sucked into this strange world where there are talking moving pictures with characters that they can fall in love with, and start crying with the muggleborns over tragic events, confusing the professors who know nothing about “feels”.

(Reblogged from mugglebornheadcanon)

Nicki + 2014 Fashion

(Source: jleeblazin)

(Reblogged from greatrunner)


Powerful portraits of the Liberians who beat Ebola 

To help humanize the overwhelming statistics, Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer and senior staff photographer at Getty Images, John Moore, visited an Ebola treatment center of the organization, Doctors Without Borders in Paynesville, Liberia. At the treatment center, survivors spoke about the brothers, sisters, husbands and wives they lost due to the disease. They also spoke of recovery, stigmas they continue to face in their villages and renewed hope.

Follow micdotcom

(Reblogged from markishajubilee)



You’ve Been Pouring Juice Wrong

what the fuck

(Reblogged from ruinedchildhood)


The cauldron spilled over.

Purple ombre / jelly sandwich, bottom —› top:

  • Zoya Miley
  • L’Oreal Lilac Coolers
  • L’Oreal Berry Nice
  • Max Factor Fantasy Fire
  • Kleancolor Chunky Holo Black

Orange swirl dry marble:

  • Sinful Colors Cloud 9
  • Sinful Colors Opal Glitter
  • NYC Purple Pizzazz Frost
(Reblogged from snailfart)



Sailor Moon dishing out advice to y’all. Play it in the background and absorb some life lessons.

If you never watched the DiC dub, then you might not know about Sailor Says. It was a unique segment that used episode footage to teach kids some very overt lessons, but really, behind all the cheese and silliness, there are a lot of beautiful things that people of all ages should hear, including:

  • Don’t stick around in a bad relationship
  • Food positivity
  • Everyone has strengths and weaknesses
  • Do the right thing even if it’s tough
  • Be a supportive but honest person and friend
  • Be Good

Now with closed captions!

(Reblogged from xdaringdamselx)

Black Don’t Crack? Mine Does. Inside.


"Black don’t crack." We Black folks know our phrase. We envision how Pharrell looks the same at 18 and 40. Or how Angela Bassett shits all over your 20-something faves and she’s 56. How we see story after story of an older Black woman who is a grandma or great grandma and over 70 but doesn’t look a day over 40. How women like Nichelle Nichols and Diahann Carroll were straight slaying people with their looks when young and have aged well. How there’s Black people who are famous and not, who have plastic surgery or don’t, and they’re all looking damn good. How many of our older cousins and aunties are so fabulous and youthful-looking and we’d sit around them as young Black girls waiting to hear their stories about life and envisioned our own pending womanhood. 

People say it to me. "You don’t look 35!" Not once has anyone ever guessed my age as whatever it was at the time or older than it is. I dunno what age I look (people guess 21-28 most often) but I know what age range I feel. Old. And I don’t mean “old” as when I make jokes about #CentrumSilverTumblr or #RelicTumblr, or #oldladytweet on Twitter to playfully tease myself as my younger Black followers laugh. I mean the unfortunate negative connotations associated with being oldSick. Tired. Exhausted. Worn. Fragile. Sometimes…done


I don’t really want to re-write in depth about the personal physical and mental health issues (i.e. PTSD, Anxiety, Depression, chronic physical injuries from past car accidents, chronic chest pain etc.) that impact my life; I’ve alluded to them in previous essays and in very personal lamentations about abject pain and suicide ideation. In plenty of past essays and posts I’ve discussed the impact of structural violence and oppression on Black bodies and health, in general. I just wanted to say that I dunno if “looking pretty” (though appearing in a way that I am comfortable with and affirming my own beauty—as a Black woman treated as “ugly” by default, let alone treated as not a woman/human by default [and these are connected]—is important/radical) can heal what ails. Of course it doesn’t in a very acute medical sense. Clearly. I meant it’s not always enough. My mother was called “pretty” quite often. She still died at age 48. She still had a very difficult life. (This isn’t a rejection of beauty privilege as a concept, but it’s definitely complicated and highly nuanced for Black women, something I touched on in my essay Conversations About Beauty and Beauty Privilege Need To Be Intersectional and in my past essay compilation of several essays, On Beauty Politics.)

Thus, sometimes my selfies are about remembering times when I am happy, not necessarily “pretty,” though again, I do think for Black women violently degraded in every way, including the connection between the degradation of our appearance and our humanity (and for other oppressed women not often shown/considered in the mainstream), selfies can rock for many reasons. I don’t think Black women have the luxury of denouncing appearance when it’s used as a measure of our humanity; we rarely have the luxury to pretend that beauty as a construct and as power is something we can “ignore” (which I discussed in Black Women Do Not Have To Reject Any Mention Of Beauty To Be Womanist/Feminist) as many non-Black women of colour and especially White women often suggest, while misogynoir and anti-Blackness renders the appearance and the very humanity of Black women as “ugly” and as non-existent, respectively.

I’ve spoken on how positive self-esteem about my own appearance, intelligence and personality is simply not always enough when facing private, public and online violence specifically, in addition to the intersecting oppressions that I face as a Black woman, generally. I’ve also mentioned that positive self-esteem is not suicide prevention. At all. Structural violence impacts health. Contrary to popular belief, self-esteem alone does not eradicate oppression and people need to stop suggesting this. Victim blaming is not compassion and insinuating that a person “doesn’t do ‘enough’ self-care” comes off as irritating as suggesting a Christian theist who suffers “didn’t have enough faith” to keep interpersonal violence and structural oppression away. These are not kind actions. They don’t mend the cracks inside that the “resistant to aging Black woman exterior” may hide. (There’s a combination of other things—the media obsession with youth/ageism in general, at times the pedestaling of youth/martyrdom over survival/thriving among us Black folks, and the societal problem of looking good mattering more than feeling good in general—that are at play, of course.)

To be clear, I am not suggesting that the phrase “Black don’t crack” upsets me, per se. I’ve used it before myself. I know it’s meant to be positive (resistance at times, since it’s usually a reply that insinuates that despite what we face, we still “look good” and visually age better than many non-Black people do). I mean, I even have a “Black aging with style” blog tag, though it is not solely about physical beauty, but just style and Black intellectual excellence with age. But, my Black cracks…inside. Even if it doesn’t appear outside.

I do wonder how much of the “Black don’t crack” phrase for Black women is teetering on being the externalization of the “Strong Black Woman” archetype (and this archetype is ableist and misogynoiristic), as the latter is a common internalization by us, from an anti-Black projection on us. “Impermeable.” “Cannot be harmed.” Perhaps another attempt at a “positive” spin on a harmful stereotype that in fact again masks the reality of the complexity of Black women’s appearance, health and humanity? I am not certain. I just know that the few times that I am called “pretty” (without it being street harassment of course, as I am not okay with entitlement/ownership/violence being called “compliments”) and/or people guess my age as lower than my actual age, I say “thanks” but I think “I’m really tired, I don’t feel well, maybe my appearance hides a truth that few people want to hear about anyway.” I keep it moving as the inside falls apart in every way.

(Reblogged from gradientlair)