Things Leah Loves....
A blog with Cool, Nerdy, Geeky, Funny, and Awesome things that I like
cursor by @allcursors

Click here to visit

Background Illustrations provided by:
Reblogged from i-am-vintage  18,358 notes




There’s something broken in nerd culture.

There’s something broken, and painful, and wrong, and if we don’t correct it—hell, if we can’t at least learn to see it, to recognize it in ourselves, to notice when we’re being this ugly—we are going to spoil the very things that we cherish. The things that misguided posts like these are, however clumsily and cruelly, trying to protect.

Who ever told you that your fandoms belong to you?

I don’t care what it is. A band, a book. A television show. No matter what it is, at some point you stopped thinking about it as “a thing I like” and you started thinking about it as yours. And there’s nothing wrong with that, so long as you remember that it’s a feeling, not a fact. So long as you remember that that feeling is best, is most powerful, when it is shared.

How dare you, OP on the bottom right. How can you say—scream—"no, it’s not allowed to be your thing, go away" of fucking The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Have you READ Perks? Because far as I can tell, that novel (and movie!) is all about the intimacy and necessity of inclusiveness. It’s about how we’re all broken inside, all desperate, all searching for a family to call our own. For people who will love us for our jagged edges; people whose own jagged edges fit against ours like puzzle pieces. It’s about finding the beauty in mediocrity, in discovering more in people than you ever thought they could give you.

How dare you tell anyone they don’t get to be a part of that? How dare you tell them that because of what they like—flower crowns, Instagram filters, a pair of broken shoelaces and a caption in Helvetica—they’re somehow lesser, different, not allowed. Cut off.

How dare you make yourself gatekeeper?

What makes you think you’re worthy?

So you’re right, OP on the top, who in a fugue of almost self-awareness tagged your post “this makes me angrier than it should.” Because bow ties don’t belong to the Whovians, they don’t belong to anyone, and they don’t because they’re fucking bow ties. They’ve been a menswear accessory staple for a decent few centuries. Matt Smith has been the Doctor since April of 2010. It doesn’t belong to you; it’s not yours. And you don’t get to call anyone a fuckwit for putting a decorative piece of silk around their neck just because they think it makes them look dapper.Because lord knows you can’t just like the way something looks. Lord knows you can’t just like something. You have to be in The Club.

Didn’t you join these fandoms because you were sick of other people telling you you couldn’t be in The Club?

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your Joy Division shirt was out of stock because of other Joy Division fans, and not because some ~mindless wannabes~ decided to ruin your day?

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe instead of policing why other people like or attend movies, you could actually turn a critical eye to the movie itself? That you can and should taste your media with your whole tongue, so you know just what it is you’re swallowing?

Has it ever occurred

to any of you

that if you walk up to someone who doesn’t seem to know her way around and you say “Hey, I notice you’ve only highlighted that one quote, y’know, the one about being infinite, and I was wondering why it spoke to you? And do you want to talk about the other parts?” you might

just maybe

make a fucking friend?

Somewhere along the line, someone handed you a book. Someone sent you a playlist. Someone forced you to sit down on their couch and watch something with them, because they knew you’d love it. And that act, whatever it was, gave you a sense of completion and home. Absolutely, you have a right to that feeling.

But what on earth gave you the impression that you have the right to deny that feeling to someone else?

Reblogged from 2damnfeisty  13,192 notes

Iggy Azalea & Nicki Minaj at MTV VMAs backstage






Iggy: You look beautiful

Nicki: Thank you baby!


Iggy: Don’t worry about your dress, you did great

Nicki: I know, thank you

Peep how she sized her up real quick…

At first Nicki had the “look at this bitch” face on..

This moment reminds me of when New York manipulated Crazy to tell her all her business and she gave her a hug afterwards.

Reblogged from 2damnfeisty  712 notes





I saw tv spots for this on Lifetime and never paid much attention to it but then I noticed it was produced by World of Wonder (a.k.a the white gays) so I knew something had to be wrong. I never imagined it would be this goddamn horrible. 4 black women sent around the country to makeover white women into black women??! Seriously y’all #StopWhiteGays2k14

UGH Tanisha still out here coonin’ for cash?!

I wonder how much she got paid to say "Trapped inside every white girl is a strong black woman ready to bust out." alone


Reblogged from 2damnfeisty  6,099 notes






Damn, Anonymous don’t play! Less than 24 hours after a new investigation was launched into cyberattacks related to the murder of Mike Brown, Anonymous has released the info on FBI agents involved with the case… no church in the wild! 

Where’s my popcorn!!Gus eating popcorn, settling in for the drama


Bruh these niggas are not to be fucked with at all 😳 even the FBI can get touched

😮 damn

Reblogged from 2damnfeisty  2,200 notes
Hi there. I'm a 16 year old black girl who has started to become more insecure. I've been bullied at school & I'm the exact opposite of western beauty ideals which majority of people follow. I'm very dark skinned with a wide broad nose, big cheekbones & big round eyes. I have started to feel worthless. I've noticed girls with dark skin are usually considered conventionally beautiful if they have thin nose and lips like Kerry Washington & East Africans. Please tell me how I can live a happy life.


Hi sweetheart.

I have thought long and hard before I answered this question, which is why it’s been sitting in my inbox for the past two days. Don’t think I’ve been ignoring you. I just prayed that I could find the words to be of help to you.

First things first: fuck Western beauty ideals. With MUCH disrespect.

And I know. That is HARD. Because it is EVERYWHERE. We are encapsulated by images of societally deemed ‘perfection’ that look far from us. I’m not lily white with blonde hair, blue eyes and a size 2. But in every ad in Vogue, the women are just that. It sucks. It’s bizarre to feel like your beauty is some sort of ‘trend’ to society. At first, white skin was clearly in. Then, lighter skinned black models became acceptable. And now, darker skinned models are ‘acceptable’ but still not booked as often, and still not used for high fashion campaigns. And even still, those girls are rail thin and don’t look like most of us. Steps are being made, but they are slow. So.

That’s why we have to take care of ourselves, sista.

Let me tell you a few things. That wide broad nose you have, is the indelible trait that you are a descendant from royalty. Your lineage is so resilient that through slavery and ships, through famine and warfare, you still have the regal bearings of your ancestors from hundreds of years ago. You are discernible as a dignified woman whose beauty is a precious gift passed down from illustrious, imperial Mother Africa many moons ago. Your broad nose notifies us all of your nobility. So hold it up high.

Your cheekbones? Do you know how many white women are paying hundreds and thousands of dollars for big cheekbones like yours? Girl, let me tell you. Those big cheekbones are God’s way of letting us all know he spent a little more time on you. He arched and sculpted and molded you until He was satisfied that when you smiled, your prominently placed cheekbones reflected light and glistened. I have big cheekbones and I love them. Every man I have ever dated has loved them. They are queenly and womanly. They add depth to my face. I can create a look of desire by sucking them in. I can create an impish look by grinning widely, sending them shooting up to kiss my eyelashes. Little sista, trust me. Big cheekbones, are one of the most beautiful attributes you can have as a woman. And even if those silly 16 year old boys aren’t telling you that now, by the time you’re my age, 9 years from now, you’ll have some man beating down your door, just to see you smile. 

Big round eyes are beautiful. They tell the world you are inquisitive. Opens your soul up for business. Your face illuminates when you laugh, eyes dancing. Your eyes give away when you are disappointed, darting downward. Your eyes widen like saucers on a Sunday morning after church when you are frightened. Your eyes are descriptive. Your eyes tell your story when you don’t have the words to say anything yourself. Big round eyes, to be honest, are actually one of the most attractive traits men look for, studies have shown. So, two points for those big brown eyes, dear.

As for your dark skin. Yes, I saved the best for last.

There is nothing worthless about your dark skin. You are clothed in the allure and mystery of midnight. You are the exact shade that God intended you to be. You are the color of the earth and of ebony and mahogany woods and of my mother’s warm eyes and a cup of my favorite coffee and the sparrow who’s song wakes me up every morning  and that point in the night when the sun hasn’t quite faded into oblivion and night hasn’t quite announced its presence. You are the deep, dark brown that lovers hide in. You are the deep, dark brown that secrets are kept. You are the deep, dark brown of the earth before He said let there be light you ARE a deep, dark brown girl and if they have the audacity to bully you, a young woman of worth and value, of beauty and strength, of character and nobility, of honor and conviction, then they are too moronic, too dense, too stupid to see that you are beautiful. And not everyone is entitled to BEHOLD your beauty.

To you, I pray. I was you 9 years ago. I felt confused and ugly and sad but I promise you, little sista, you will flourish. I hope you read this and you smile. I hope you read this and you look in the mirror and you see every beautiful trait of yours. Most importantly, I hope you read this and decide, you know what, FORGET a mirror, because you don’t need a piece of glass to reflect back on the beauty that illuminates inside of you. You are 16 years old. The world is yours if you open your heart. Happiness is, more often than not, just around the corner. So, little sista, today, tonight, or whenever you read this, make the brave choice to say, “I am beautiful. I look like a queen. I feel like a queen. My happiness is mine and mine alone and I choose to dress myself, to dress my very soul, up in happiness from head to toe.”

I hope this helps. I PRAY this helps. Please, feel free to contact me again if you want to talk. I don’t know you at all, I wish I did, but I LOVE you. And I am sending you all of my well-wishes and ‘you go, girl!’ vibes from here to wherever you are.

All my love,