humancum:

rules of money:

  1. never use your own

My rule

(Source: st0rmer, via becomingathena)



Finally, some good advice from Cosmo

im gonna reblog this 300 times a day

Finally, some good advice from Cosmo

im gonna reblog this 300 times a day

(Source: elfauno, via getoffyourbummate)

overachieversyndrome:

i love this

All the hardest, coldest people you meet,
were once as soft as water.
And that’s the tragedy of living.

Iain S. Thomas (via cybergirlfriend)

(Source: theonlymagicleftisart, via voluptuousvanity)

kushandwizdom:

tashabilities:

thebluelip-blondie:

partiallythere:

afrobluess:

lovelifelaurennn:

thechanelmuse:

BREAKING: Black Man Shot and Killed by Police in South L.A.

A 24-year-old man has died after being shot by police during an encounter in the Florence neighborhood of South Los Angeles, officials said Tuesday.

The incident began at 8:12 p.m. when officers responded to a report of a shooting at the intersection of West 65th Street and South Broadway, said Lt. Ellis Imaizumi of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Eight minutes later, at 8:20 p.m., the officers stopped a man who was walking in the 200 block of 65th, authorities said.

“A struggle ensued” and police opened fire, according to a statement from the Police Department.

The man was transported to a hospital where he underwent surgery, according to Officer Sara Faden, spokeswoman for the LAPD. He later succumbed to his injuries. No officers were hurt in the incident.

It is unknown if the suspect has any gang affiliations, police said.

A woman who said she was the deceased man’s mother identified him as Ezell Ford.

Tritobia Ford said her son was lying on the ground and complying with the officers’ commands when he was shot.

Yet another one…It’s always a “struggle.” And why bring it up if it’s unknown. They know exactly what they’re insinuating. Be fearful of black people and not the police… This is insanity. 

THIS WAS LAST NIGHT

they are really trying to kill us all

Stop the Police!

I’m fucking terrified

#Every28Hours

Every fucking 28 hours a police officer kills a black person, but you guys.. Remember. This.isnt.about.race

This is making my blood boil

This is awful.

(via will-work-for-abs)

Let’s make the Flubber movie cover the most reblogged picture on Tumblr.

insanitys-love:

mymompickedthisurl:

thewinchesterswagger:

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HOW IS THIS THE FIRST TIME I’VE SEEN THIS IT’S ALMOST AT 10 MILLION WTF

Yes let’s do it for him.

(Source: mspandrew, via thesewordsaremyown91)

postracialcomments:

shantrinas:

this is literally the saddest thing i have ever seen. 

does anyone know how we can help????

Spread this news to everyone. There are people who still do not know what is going on. If your city is having a #NMOS Vigil, please attend if possible (@Feministajones has the list)

Get on twitter and spread these photos, spread them on tumblr, spread them on facebook, send them to your local news

These are the photos that will not be shown on tv and trust me, there is a hell of a lot more where these photos came from

And make sure you send out love and support for the residents of Ferguson!

(via will-work-for-abs)

Ferguson from my TL

fullyactivated:

perowl:

thewilsonblog:

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(From what I understand, the police thought they heard a gunshot and started throwing tear gas into the crowd. Correct me if I’m wrong)

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I had chills while looking at this. WAKE THE FUCK UP PEOPLE AND OPEN YOUR EYES. STAND UP NOW. This is so fucking wrong and they’re testing our limits

America, best country on earth,
this isn’t about race
yada yada yada

This is fucking horrible.

(via brittanesworkoutlog)

When you are hurting, there will always be people who find a way to make it about themselves. If you break your wrist, they’ll complain about a sprained ankle. If you are sad, they’re sadder. If you’re asking for help, they’ll demand more attention.

Here is a fact: I was in a hospital and sobbing into my palms when a woman approached me and asked why I was making so much noise and I managed to stutter that my best friend shot himself in the head and now he was 100% certified dead and she made this little grunt and had the nerve to tell me, “Well now you made me sad.”

When you get angry, there are going to be people who ask you to shut up and sit down, and they’re not going to do it nicely. Theirs are the faces that turn bright red before you have a chance to finish your sentence. They won’t ask you to explain yourself. They’ll be mad that you’re mad and that will be their whole reason alone.

Here is a fact: I was in an alleyway a few weeks ago, stroking my friend’s back as she vomited fourteen tequila shots. “I hate men,” she wheezed as her sides heaved, “I hate all of them.”

I braided her hair so it wouldn’t get caught in the mess. I didn’t correct her and reply that she does in fact love her father and her little brother too, that there are strangers she has yet to meet that will be better for her than any of her shitty ex-boyfriends, that half of our group of friends identifies as male - I could hear each of her bruises in those words and I didn’t ask her to soften the blow when she was trying to buff them out of her skin. She doesn’t hate all men. She never did.

She had the misfortune to be overheard by a drunk guy in an ill-fitting suit, a boy trying to look like a man and leering down my dress as he stormed towards us. “Fuck you, lady,” he said, “Fuck you. Not all men are evil, you know.”

“Thanks,” I told him dryly, pulling on her hand, trying to get her inside again, “See you.”

He followed us. Wouldn’t stop shouting. How dare she get mad. How dare she was hurting. “It’s hard for me too!” he yowled after us. “With fuckers like you, how’s a guy supposed to live?”

Here’s a fact: my father is Cuban and my genes repeat his. Once one of my teachers looked at my heritage and said, “Your skin doesn’t look dirty enough to be a Mexican.”

When my cheeks grew pink and my tongue dried up, someone else in the classroom stood up. “You can’t say that,” he said, “That’s fucking racist. We could report you for that.”

Our teacher turned vicious. “You wanna fail this class? Go ahead. Report me. I was joking. It’s my word against yours. I hate kids like you. You think you’ve got all the power - you don’t. I do.”

Later that kid and I became close friends and we skipped class to do anything else and the two of us were lying on our backs staring up at the sky and as we talked about that moment, he sighed, “I hate white people.” His girlfriend is white and so is his mom. I reached out until my fingers were resting in the warmth of his palm.

He spoke up each time our teacher said something shitty. He failed the class. I stayed silent. I got the A but I wish that I didn’t.

Here is a fact: I think gender is a difficult and personal topic and people that want to tell others what defines it just haven’t done their homework. I personally happen to have the luck of the draw and identify as female in a female body, which basically just means society leaves me alone about this one particular thing.

Until I met Alex, who said he hated cis people. My throat closed up. I’m not good at confrontation. I avoided him because I didn’t want to bother him.

One day I was going on a walk and I found him behind our school, bleeding out of the side of his mouth. The only thing I really know is how to patch people up. He winced when the antibacterial cream went across his new wounds. “I hate cis people,” he said weakly.

I looked at him and pushed his hair back from his head. “I understand why you do.”

Here is a fact: anger is a secondary emotion. Anger is how people stop themselves from hurting. Anger is how people stop themselves by empathizing.

It is easy for the drunken man to be mad at my friend. If he says “Hey, fuck you, lady,” he doesn’t have to worry about what’s so wrong about men.

It’s easy for my teacher to fail the kids who speak up. If we’re just smart-ass students, it’s not his fault we fuck up.

It’s easy for me to hate Alex for labeling me as dangerous when I’ve never hurt someone a day in my life. But I’m safe in my skin and his life is at risk just by going to the bathroom. I understand why he says things like that. I finally do.

There’s a difference between the spread of hatred and the frustration of people who are hurting. The thing is, when you are broken, there will always be someone who says “I’m worse, stop talking.” There will always be people who are mad you’re trying to steal the attention. There will always be people who get mad at the same time as you do - they hate being challenged. It changes the rules.

I say I hate all Mondays but my sister was born on one and she’s the greatest joy I have ever known. I say I hate brown but it’s really just the word and how it turns your mouth down - the colour is my hair and my eyes and my favorite sweater. I say I hate pineapple but I still try it again every Easter, just to see if it stings less this year. It’s okay to be sad when you hear someone generalize a group you’re in. But instead of assuming they’re evil and filled with hatred, maybe ask them why they think that way - who knows, you might just end up with a new and kind friend.

By telling the oppressed that their anger is unjustified, you allow the oppression to continue. I know it’s hard to stay calm. I know it’s scary. But you’re coming from the safe place and they aren’t. Just please … Try to be more understanding. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

(via oatmealgoddess)

All of these for only $62. Gotta love shopping local.

All of these for only $62. Gotta love shopping local.