“People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.”—Rosie Scanlan, “On Missing Them” (via buffythebamfireslayer)
Recently, I’ve seen a lot of posts encouraging people to write a specific type of female character: a very feminine woman who kicks butt, has a sarcastic remark for every occasion, and truly cares about social issues. If you want to write a character like her, that’s great! We need all kinds of…
does anyone actually track their periods because i dont im too lazy and its just like this really terrible surprise that i dont want every month and me trying to convince myself that theres no way its been 4 weeks already
accidentally clicking like on a post you already liked and then breaking the post’s heart like omg no bb i am so sorry i didn’t mean it there i’ll put your heart back together and like you again but i never stopped liking you bb
I was talking to my brother about women’s attitudes towards their bodies, especially regarding weight/fat, and when he said “most guys don’t notice/care about that kind of thing,” I tried to explain why it was a lot more complicated than that. I ended up telling this story.
Body image is something that’s so hard to talk about, and it’s hard to express body positivity without sounding cheesy, false, or overly simplistic. But I’m gonna try. This is only my own experience, and it didn’t magically cure me of all my body image issues - but it was a major turning point for me nonetheless.
She’s annoyed they called her out here, annoyed they dragged her into their stupid holiday job when all she wanted was to sit home and think of Britt and sulk. Christmas was their holiday. They’d celebrated it together every year since they were kids. To have it without…
“Women feel more guilt than men, not because of some weird chromosomal issue but because they have a history of being blamed for other people’s behavior. You get hit, you must have annoyed someone; you get raped, you must have excited someone; your kid is a junkie, you must have brought him up wrong.”—Guilt Poisons Women by Germaine Greer (via mymangotree)
Hey guys, for those who don’t know, I’m a film major at Drexel University. As a senior, you have to do a final project to graduate. I am writing a screenplay, but many of my friends will be making short narrative or documentary films. Since many of them need to raise money for their films, I am asking you for your help. In exchange for your donation, I will write you a one shot with a pairing of your choice (any of the pairings on my ships page will be fine, especially the ones in bold) based on a prompt of your choice (preferably not angst). After you donate, all you have to do is send me a message telling me the amount that you’ve donated, your pairing of choice and the prompt. I will try to get all of your prompts done by the end of March. There will probably be many campaigns over the next couple of weeks, but you don’t have to donate to them all, just pick the one that you’re the most interested in. Here is the first campaign:
my mom has been a cop for over 20 years and she is the one who constantly warns me about police aggression and young male cops and told me that if you’re ever alone on a rural road and a cop throws their lights on to put on your four ways and drive to the next gas station before stopping because so many cops are scum and it’s not worth the chance of getting hurt. the fact that SHE feels the need to tell me this shit scares me to death
No one noticed it. People knew they were friends and they thought none of it. It was their kind of friendship. Eating meals together and endlessly talking of various things about their day or work or other happenings. It was a gentle and precious relationship between women who were drawn together.
Yet what the world didn’t know, what the people didn’t see, what Ruby didn’t expect, her heart felt. It beat at little faster at seeing Belle approach their little booth. How her chest swelled with simple joy in hearing of Belle’s ‘adventures’ - a small childish way of explaining what the librarian had been up to. How she adored the light in the woman’s beautiful eyes. How Belle’s smiles and laughs were as contagious as the common cold. How spending breakfast, lunch and dinner together kept Ruby in high spirits. A sandbox kind of love.