scribblingface

A word of advice to trans women

orangelemonart:

interruptmag:

image

Go to your nearest target. Buy a two pack of pushup bras (24$ for 2), and target’s bra inserts (12$). Then go to your nearest Walmart and buy the Vasserette Control Shapewear Panties (2.50 each), they do wonders for helping your tuck. There you go! You just saved yourself a lot of money, you can afford to buy enough to wear every day, and best of all you look fabulous. -@twidx

recs for trans women are so rare on tumblr!! spread this, people.

scribblingface

Bad thing about a writer's mind

  • 6am: Oh what a wonderful dream to wake up from. Now I'll give you five story ideas.
  • 1am: You're tired? Well I'm sorry but I must keep these ideas coming until it's almost 4am and you're dozing off on your computer/notebook.
  • Shower: I know how you can solve this plot hole.... with this scene.
  • In a store: That person over there looks like OC... oh! This gives me an idea! Who cares if you have nothing to write it down with.
  • At a party: Wow... here's a great way to word that scene you can't get down. Too bad in five minutes you won't remember much more than two sentences. From different paragraphs.
  • Timed test: You know what would be great? Instead of this happening, this happens and I am so glad this brilliant idea makes you want to write and not focus on this geometry question!
  • While writing at a decent time: Yeah, I got nothing.
wilwheaton

the-fault-in-our-wifi:

silentstep:

Boromir cuddling Hobbits because why not.

            (via goodshipophelia)

boromir’s character makes me so sad, because honestly, he was one of the most caring in the fellowship. he understood their mission and wanted to get it done as successfully as possible, but he wanted what was best for everyone with them as well. he felt the need to care for all the hobbits, not just frodo. and when he made a mistake, it destroyed him. he saw that he was weak and that he nearly ruined everything. and he died trying to make that right. boromir is the best.

iconoclastfae
At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely face of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.
Caitlin Moran (via scatteredandshining)