Alison.rome

dynamicafrica:

Steven Onoja of Ostentation and Style.

Always immaculately dressed with a distinct dapper-ness and stylish sartorial flair, Nigerian-American menswear blogger Steven Onoja is undoubtedly one of the leading faces in the world of personal style and online men’s fashion blogs.

Whether suited up or styled down, Steven may appear to embrace a more conventional and classic look but he always manages to go beyond the confines of traditional upscale men’s fashion by adding personal touches that make his style both unique and distinct. What we love best is that each ‘shoot he undertakes tells a story that brings the dynamics of his aesthetics to life.

Twitter | FacebookPinterest | InstagramSoundcloud | Mixcloud

(via fempunkandkittens)

girldwarf:

fieldbears:

britneyjustin:


britsanity:






Witnesses say they asked Britney why she shaved her head and her response was, “I’m tired of plugging things into it. I’m tired of people touching me.”



i can never not reblog this



T-Pain: “That was the most beautiful thing in the world. Do you know why she was shaving her head? Because it was so important to other people. She is like, “Listen. Don’t touch my hair anymore. Stop touching my hair.” People were like, “We’ve got to make your hair before you go outside. You can’t leave.” She went … “Now I don’t have hair. What you going to do?”


The older I get the more her breakdown seems less ‘unbalanced’ and more ‘completely understandable’

I sincerely regret making fun of her and laughing about this. I wish we had all been like, “Wow, it’s disgusting that she’s been pushed to the breaking point. It’s disgusting that people treated her body like public property.”

girldwarf:

fieldbears:

britneyjustin:

britsanity:

Witnesses say they asked Britney why she shaved her head and her response was, “I’m tired of plugging things into it. I’m tired of people touching me.”

i can never not reblog this

T-Pain: “That was the most beautiful thing in the world. Do you know why she was shaving her head? Because it was so important to other people. She is like, “Listen. Don’t touch my hair anymore. Stop touching my hair.” People were like, “We’ve got to make your hair before you go outside. You can’t leave.” She went … “Now I don’t have hair. What you going to do?”

The older I get the more her breakdown seems less ‘unbalanced’ and more ‘completely understandable’

I sincerely regret making fun of her and laughing about this. I wish we had all been like, “Wow, it’s disgusting that she’s been pushed to the breaking point. It’s disgusting that people treated her body like public property.”

(via truedecepticonleader)

She removes her wig, her eyelashes, her makeup, never breaking eye contact with the reflection of her natural self. It’s an intimate, powerful moment television doesn’t often show: A black woman removing all the elements white supremacy tells her she has to wear to be beautiful, successful, powerful. And let’s not forget that that wasn’t just Annalise taking it off: It was Davis, too—Davis, who remains brave in a world where a New York Times critic can get away with calling her ‘less classically beautiful.’x

(Source: fistoffight, via incitatusforconsul)


"Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then." — Angelina Jolie

"Mad was the last kid I saw and he was asleep. He was 3 months old and they put him in my arms and he stayed asleep and they put him in the bath and he stayed asleep and I thought he was narcoleptic or something. Then he opened his eyes and just stared at me for the longest time and I just stared at him and I started crying and he smiled. And it wasn’t that he smiled that he liked me, it was just that I hadn’t held children in my life and I was always considered so dark and I always had so many things that made me feel like maybe I shouldn’t be somebody’s mom because certainly the world has an opinion of me and I’m not so sure about myself and am I gonna be the best mom? So the fact that this little kid seemed at ease gave me the courage to feel like I could make him happy. And so we became a family right then." — Angelina Jolie

(Source: becketts, via tinytmas)

loki-has-a-tardis:

This is honestly the best poster I have found in a while supporting breast cancer awareness. I am honestly so sick of seeing, “set the tatas free” and “save the boobies”. There is no reason in hell a life threatening, life ruining disease should be sexualized. “Don’t wear a bra day,” go fuck yourselves. You’re not saving a pair of tits, you’re saving the entire package: mind, body, and soul included. Women are not just a pair of breasts.

loki-has-a-tardis:

This is honestly the best poster I have found in a while supporting breast cancer awareness. I am honestly so sick of seeing, “set the tatas free” and “save the boobies”. There is no reason in hell a life threatening, life ruining disease should be sexualized. “Don’t wear a bra day,” go fuck yourselves. You’re not saving a pair of tits, you’re saving the entire package: mind, body, and soul included. Women are not just a pair of breasts.

(via ollietheduke)

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.
Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.
“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”
“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”
“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”
“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”
You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.
I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.
There are two wars.
There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.
A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.
She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.
There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.
There are two wars.
Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.
He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.
Come home, Gittel.
Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.
Δ ○ |Resist
“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.
There are two wars.
It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.
The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”
They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.
“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.
“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.
There are two wars.
The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.
“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.
“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.
She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.
“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”
Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.
There are two wars.
“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”
“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.
She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.
The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.
There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.
There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.
She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.
“Wait!”
(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.

Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.

“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”

“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”

“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”

“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”

You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.

I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.

There are two wars.

There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.

A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.

She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.

There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.

There are two wars.

Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.

He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.

Come home, Gittel.

Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.

Δ ○ |
Resist

“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.

There are two wars.

It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.

The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”

They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.

“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.

“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.

There are two wars.

The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.

“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.

“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.

She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.

“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”

Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.

There are two wars.

“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”

“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.

She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.

The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.

There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.

There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.

She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.

“Wait!”

(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

(via truedecepticonleader)

lelaid:

Linda Evangelista by Richard Avedon for Versace, Spring/Summer 1994

lelaid:

Linda Evangelista by Richard Avedon for Versace, Spring/Summer 1994

(via onesorryloser)