flyawaymax:

even when im not laying facedown on the floor literally, i am always laying facedown on the floor figuratively. in my heart or whatever.

(via itschickadee)

yes

So I got my new binder

bedabug:

therealjazzbertie:

megannicoline:

image

This is me in my usual bra, note the 34D/32DD boobs.

image

And here is the binder, almost completely flat.

This thing is awesome.  It is remarkably comfortable, too.  Feels a bit like wearing a sports bra. I got it from Love Boat, this one(http://www.lesloveboat.com/shop/product_info.php?products_id=122&osCsid=57cc209b6d95c6c3efa2d87a2325b6c2)

WOAH.

Reblogging again for my trans* and genderfluid buddies and also all female cosplay friends.

(Source: a-goblin-or-a-goddess, via thesecretbeta)

hello friends please treat yourself and invest in one of these bad boys instead of using ace bandages

cosbyykidd:

juiciep:

whatisthat-velvet:

modernpolymath:

nazvseverything:

iamxmrk:

This is why I hate texting sometimes.

Every text conversation between me and my siblings summarized in a nutshell

This speaks to me on a spiritual level.

I’m crying.

I wonder how many of these conversations I’ve had with people lmao

I am Peele

(Source: cc.com, via agentrodgers)

OH MY GOD

speedgriffon:

i like candles but DON’T WORRY i am still MAN. let me prove it to you by telling you a story about HUNTING with a ton of MEN and doing MANLY THINGS
i love this MANLY candle. this MAN candle, MANDLE

speedgriffon:

i like candles but DON’T WORRY i am still MAN. let me prove it to you by telling you a story about HUNTING with a ton of MEN and doing MANLY THINGS

i love this MANLY candle. this MAN candle, MANDLE

(via kelslk)

seekingthedawn:

of-the-nightfall:

Blasted Lands

Silence had always been unnerving to the warrior. Nothing provides complete silence, aside from something - or someone - that sought to do so intentionally. For all of his heroics, Redros still hadn’t felt comfortable back in Quel’Thalas. The bright reds and golds, the flare that his people had a penchant for, and the heavy use of magic; these were things he had a hard time getting used to, after being enlisted in the War Machine for years.
The field of battle was his home; a natural habitat for a predator raised and bred for war. The din of artiillary off in the distance, the sound of metal clashing against metal - these were things that made him far more comfortable than any manufactured sense of calm brought on in the homelands.
The Blasted Lands was hot and dusty; not all that different to the lands surrounding Orgrimmar, the once impenetrable city now sieged and turned over to a new Warchief. The time of celebration came and went far quicker than most had hoped, especially with the conflict that had lingered within the lands surrounding the Dawnspire. For a man of war, the work never ended - where one enemy had fallen, another took their place.
It didn’t make much sense to him. The great portal had turned from green to red and with it, a new enemy had come pouring out, forged in iron and wrought with hatred. The Iron Horde many had called it, and they certainly took pride in their namesake. The warrior could still distinctly remember the oppressive force of Finnistan Truefeather’s weapon bearing down upon his frame not but a few weeks ago, and now, he was already off to fight a new enemy. It was a continuous cycle. Most wilted under the constant change, but a man like Redros thrived within the atmosphere. Comfort did not come to him in small, silent moments like most.
The Orcs were strong, and their armor just as ironclad as their name suggests. When Redros wasn’t fighting, he was constantly on the move, looting the fallen and taking what he wanted. Unlike his kin, he’d grown used to adorning the spikes and chains that many would likely consider savage or primitive. He was a volunteer here, after all. The Sunguard had given no official orders to support the fight in the Blasted Lands, not with the conflict at home still looming like a dark cloud. More often than not, his greed got the best of him - gold was to be made, and he wasn’t getting paid to fight out there.
He listened over the Sunguard’s communication device, and recalled several comrades referring to the Orcs as weak. No, he thought, they are not weak. They are simply outmatched. If the rumors were true, this was merely a small force for these Iron Horde - their vanguard, sent on a mission to reave as much damage as possible. Despite the boasting of his kin, he knew they were successful; anyone that saw Nethergarde Keep could testify to such.
No one wished to admit it, but the Horde and Alliance always worked best when fighting a common enemy. Time and time again, the annals of history serve as testament to their cooperation. Before he found the means to return to Quel’Thalas, Redros looked off to the Dark Portal one last time. There beneath the shades of a deep crimson sky, Horde and Alliance fought against a common enemy. Still, the details puzzled him. If anything, a short reprieve in the homelands would enlighten the warrior.

seekingthedawn:

of-the-nightfall:

Blasted Lands

Silence had always been unnerving to the warrior. Nothing provides complete silence, aside from something - or someone - that sought to do so intentionally. For all of his heroics, Redros still hadn’t felt comfortable back in Quel’Thalas. The bright reds and golds, the flare that his people had a penchant for, and the heavy use of magic; these were things he had a hard time getting used to, after being enlisted in the War Machine for years.

The field of battle was his home; a natural habitat for a predator raised and bred for war. The din of artiillary off in the distance, the sound of metal clashing against metal - these were things that made him far more comfortable than any manufactured sense of calm brought on in the homelands.

The Blasted Lands was hot and dusty; not all that different to the lands surrounding Orgrimmar, the once impenetrable city now sieged and turned over to a new Warchief. The time of celebration came and went far quicker than most had hoped, especially with the conflict that had lingered within the lands surrounding the Dawnspire. For a man of war, the work never ended - where one enemy had fallen, another took their place.

It didn’t make much sense to him. The great portal had turned from green to red and with it, a new enemy had come pouring out, forged in iron and wrought with hatred. The Iron Horde many had called it, and they certainly took pride in their namesake. The warrior could still distinctly remember the oppressive force of Finnistan Truefeather’s weapon bearing down upon his frame not but a few weeks ago, and now, he was already off to fight a new enemy. It was a continuous cycle. Most wilted under the constant change, but a man like Redros thrived within the atmosphere. Comfort did not come to him in small, silent moments like most.

The Orcs were strong, and their armor just as ironclad as their name suggests. When Redros wasn’t fighting, he was constantly on the move, looting the fallen and taking what he wanted. Unlike his kin, he’d grown used to adorning the spikes and chains that many would likely consider savage or primitive. He was a volunteer here, after all. The Sunguard had given no official orders to support the fight in the Blasted Lands, not with the conflict at home still looming like a dark cloud. More often than not, his greed got the best of him - gold was to be made, and he wasn’t getting paid to fight out there.

He listened over the Sunguard’s communication device, and recalled several comrades referring to the Orcs as weak. No, he thought, they are not weak. They are simply outmatched. If the rumors were true, this was merely a small force for these Iron Horde - their vanguard, sent on a mission to reave as much damage as possible. Despite the boasting of his kin, he knew they were successful; anyone that saw Nethergarde Keep could testify to such.

No one wished to admit it, but the Horde and Alliance always worked best when fighting a common enemy. Time and time again, the annals of history serve as testament to their cooperation. Before he found the means to return to Quel’Thalas, Redros looked off to the Dark Portal one last time. There beneath the shades of a deep crimson sky, Horde and Alliance fought against a common enemy. Still, the details puzzled him. If anything, a short reprieve in the homelands would enlighten the warrior.

(via felwitch)

yooooooooooooo