Lux ex tenebris


Grace / 18 / Scotland

"for the heart is an organ of fire"


wocinsolidarity:

fuckallies:

On average, you have a 1 in 18,989 chance of being murdered

A trans person has a 1 in 12 chance of being murdered

The average life span of a cis person is about 75-90 

The average life expectancy of a trans person is 23-30 years old

75% of people killed in anti LGBT hate crimes are poc

Think about this the next time you go crying over “cisphobia” and “reverse racism”

MESSAGE 

(Source: fuckoffallies)


Wassily Kandinsky, “Tanzkurven: Zu den Tänzen der Palucca,” Das Kunstblatt, Potsdam, vol. 10, no. 3 (1926)

Wassily Kandinsky, “Tanzkurven: Zu den Tänzen der Palucca,” Das Kunstblatt, Potsdam, vol. 10, no. 3 (1926)

(Source: theloudest--minds)

mpdrolet:

Frida winking, 1933
Lucienne Bloch

mpdrolet:

Frida winking, 1933

Lucienne Bloch

Lmfao this was my fifteen seconds of fame it’s all downhill from here

Lmfao this was my fifteen seconds of fame it’s all downhill from here

Anonymous asks: I don't understand why you're so down on your appearance. You are literally a goddess. Marble carvings of you would not be enough. Chin up dear.

Dndhshevsbsn

maybeimalittledifferent asks: No goodness gracious you pose all you want to you are beautiful and your cheekbones could cut the universe in half. Wowie such prettiness emulates from you.

"cheekbones that could cut the universe in half" is the ideal superpower xx

dRAKE and eLLEN PAGE went to high school together!!!

ok i was tagged in this six selfies thing by the magnificent azra and i don’t quite understand what’s going on but here’s my face? i’m such a poser pls don’t judge. also my dog is more photogenic than me

breakfastwithgargoyles:

 

just-wanna-travel:

Varanasi, India

condom:

don’t tell me to calm down I’ll throw a fucking desk at your face

boobhurt:

And There Were Stars in Our Eyes
 - Petra Collins 

boobhurt:

And There Were Stars in Our Eyes

- Petra Collins 

at the start of this year I was very unhappy for some reason and I don’t think anyone knew about it. i had a very clear physical image of my sadness as a honeycomb of volcanic rock packed inside my chest, something black and brittle and dead, with the red heart struggling beneath it. i felt that i couldn’t just breathe and be because of this thing lodged inside me. i’m only really just talking about this now. but lately i’ve been realising that pieces of this sadness have been falling away, mysteriously. there’s no grand moment. there’s just the dry darkness crumbling away like coastal erosion. 

recommend me some good shows to watch on netflix? 

azurea:

Italy in the 1980’s by Charles H. Traub.