I don’t date. I’m either with someone or I’m not. I can’t be bothered with all that fannying around. Guy Code? Seriously? If it’s ain’t screwed down and no-one’s looking, go for it mate. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen regardless. I’m not going to roll over for anyone. If she’s The One, I’d do anything: begging, crying, snivelling, writing poetry, swing dancing.


[18:14:15] Snivel War: “Person A backs out in the middle of confessing their feelings online to Person B by texting them “APRIL FOOLS” at the end of it. BONUS: Before Person A sent the April Fools text, Person B sends a text saying that they feel the same way.” O UCH
[18:15:52] Aloo Ababwa: OUCH
[18:16:11] Snivel War: imagine bokuaka though
[18:16:28] Snivel War: bokuto texting akaashi but chickening out and texting april fools but akaashi had already responded

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final kitten update, re. the abandoned little one we found

s/he is on her/his way to a new home with what seems like a loving and gentle family…hopefully s/he will have a happy long life

feel lost and empty now…kittens (and other fluffies) have a peculiar way of reaching in and holding your heart hostage :(

Don’t demand me to define what is the significance to love someone. Perhaps, I hurl the word love away like they were the keys in the love lock bridges, abundant as it seems, but no one throws them back.

Love is a feeling I have always fathomed as something that is ubiquitous. Not once did I believe in money making the world go round, but I believed it was love that keep us all to keep moving forward, keep the world dancing in cumbersome circles. We love the sun so much we swivel around it. It loves us back enough to embrace us with the gravity it has and keep us from gyrating into the deep fissure of space, from clashing with other heavenly bodies. I think the Earth fell in love with the fickle moon a long time ago that I refused to let it go. Their mutual love for each other keeps the tides rolling, making the oceans snivel when time comes when the moon has to vanish for a moment. Once upon a time, the sun fell in love with the moon that day after day he chases after her, knowing he will never be able to catch her. Love is why, in beauteous and evocative synchronization with the Earth, we crane our necks in tandem with the ground beneath our feet in order to drink in the sparkling stars, the languorous nebulae, endless skies.

For years, there has been a struggle to find this elusive marine mollusk, this champion’s prize of life. This is my lost treasure, the faded blue heart-shaped seashell. I gave my all, I did my very best to find it and keep it in my hands but love is a glutinous creature that bites and scrapes, fickle and changes its mind. It grows prostrate and weary, the firefly that flickers in and out of light. The expedition towards it is persecuted with dangers: false prophets dressed with shining armor or extravagant dresses that guide you in vicious misdirection, the twisted forms of nefarious that will give you things to take just like being given by an apple in the middle of the forest by weird hag, the broken hearts that’s scattered around the place and the miles of distance you have to walk until your tired feet bring you to where you and he will meet.

Please, do not ask me to define love. I’m the type who does not know what it is because I recognize it all too well and fall in love three times when I see the sun rises and five when I read poetry. I fall in love with the silence of that space between sleeping and waking, the moment that blurs on the border between the darkest hour of night and the first light of dawn. I fall in love with the way people walks to the streets, wearing the best of their best and walk without noticing other people’s business. I fall in love with the green spirit of mother nature in the garden of Ms. Ainsworth two blocks away from home, the city lights that looks beautiful but cold, I fall in love with ugly urban cities— love it for all it’s derelict, citified decay. I love it’s unhurried atavism.

I happen to be in awe of people, too. I love the old man who bought her little kid a new toy by the department store. I love the boy in the corner of the rooftop when I see him closing his eyes, surrendering to the melody he is making. I love the mother when she calls her child that nickname only they share. I love it when people are kind and loving, and sweet and caring. I love it when I see their faces when they realize that they are important piece of a big big puzzle, a cog in the machine that is secretly named the world. I love it when someone sad or hurt felt home or comfortable by my company or by just a simple embrace; just a reminder that the pain they are experiencing will sooner be gone. I love them when they need a little bit of a reprieve from the hopelessness that pervades the very air we breath. I love seeing people at their worst because I can tell that they are holding their guard down and they finally letting me in and I want to hug their soul and make them feel that there’s a lot of things to be happy about and that they are not alone on what they are experiencing. I love them at their best and at their worst for people are just melancholic souls, fidgety feet and mawkish hearts that beat in unison with the first heartbeat of the new born baby, the choir that sang to the bottom of their hearts and the air that lets us breathe every single second.

There’s a lot of question that boggled the mind of some people. Is that not what love is? Is love supposed to be kind? Is love supposed to go above and beyond the ordinary, the boring and go borderline insane? It should be infuriated with the right amount of lust and zeal, fueled by hope and everlasting passion. Lovers should understand that love is never constant but that lovers should, like monkeys in the trees that are interlaced, holding fast and have an impending and decisive fear of losing and letting go.

Don’t ask me to define what is the significance to love someone. Do not ask me what is love because I know its different faces, forms, hues and tragedies. Do not ask me about love because each one is different, and each one is uniquely yours.

me: yeah i do enjoy playing as females in games 

I understand hat Snape was only a teacher at Hogwarts because that’s what Dumbledore told him to do, but I can help but wonder if in the 11 years or so that he taught there, was there ever a moment where he might have enjoyed teaching. Like a brief moment where being stuck in a room full of sniveling kids didn’t suck as bad as it usually did for him, or maybe that one or two special students where he thought to himself, ‘This ones not as empty headed as the rest.’

for how much i love the tokyo ghoul final two episodes for the hidekane i hate them just as much for the treatment of the two female leads

1. Mado Akira

Akira is a first-class ghoul investigator and graduated at the top of her class. She is a renowned ghoul hunter and went head to head with Naki, an S-rated ghoul, on many occasions.

And yet she is reduced to a sniveling, useless mess in the middle of battle. She’s not on her guard; she doesn’t process orders. She just stumbles around and almost gets killed by some ghoul lackeys. 

And then after that she has some dumb flashback to Amon saying ‘even if you’re arms and legs are cut off keep fighting’ or something. Her fucking elbow is probably bruised and that’s it. She doesn’t need motivation from her mysterious love interest to stand up and beat ghouls down.

It’s fucking embarrassing. And all of this is because Amon is fighting Kaneki. She doesn’t even know if Amon is alive or dead. She just can’t function without him. Which is ridiculous. Yes, she loved Amon, but she loved Seidou too.

2. Kirishima Touka

Touka took three fucking episodes to jog to Anteiku. Three episodes. And yet she found Hinami in like five minute flats because she actually did her ghoul power jump. God forbid she use it to get to Anteiku and find Kaneki. She has to spend the finale like a hopeless lovestruck doe. It’s pathetic. 

In fact she spent the entire season running after Kaneki.

Don’t get me wrong I love her relationship with Kaneki. I don’t think of it as romantic but I don’ really like it. She reminds me of Lenalee from D. Gray Man. They both have this mind set where the people who they love make up their world and they don’t want anything to happen to them, but at least Lenalee beats the living shit out of everyone who stands in her way whereas Touka’s tenacity and determination just sort of fizzled out. And not in a character developmental this-character’s-soul-has-died way, but in a sort of writers-are-neglecting-her sort of way.

If you were the kind of person wont to describe pop songs as “meta”, you could apply the term to How You Get the Girl, a knowing checklist of the kind of love-song platitudes that Swift’s peers might easily punt out with a straight face. If Wildest Dreams bears a hint of Lana del Ray, there’s something hugely cheering about the way Swift turns the persona of the pathetic female appendage snivelling over her bad-boy boyfriend on its head. Ramping up the melodrama by way of Be My Babyish drums, Wildest Dreams paints the man as the victim, doomed to spend the rest of his life haunted by what he’s carelessly lost.

“The drought was the very worst,” she sings at the outset of Clean. It’s not just that this is a pretty striking line with which to open a pop song, it’s that you can’t imagine any of Taylor Swift’s competitors coming up with anything remotely like it. Whether that’s because they couldn’t be bothered – you’d have to be hard of hearing to miss the distinct, depressing air of will-this-do? that currently runs through pop music – or because they just couldn’t is debatable. Either way, on 1989 the reasons she’s afforded the kind of respect denied to her peers are abundantly obvious.

—  The Guardian 1989 Review (x)

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair!

There’s an almost savage snarl as the Time Lady stalked back and forth across the room, her breath ragged. Not again. She was so sick and tired of people interrupting and ruining her plans. And it was never by her doing. No, it was always by one of the assistants or people on her side that causes it to fall to pieces.

“You incompetent, dim-witted creature!” This time she turned on the girl that’s was responsible for her failure. “You, you really thought all your sniveling little whimpers would save you from me?”

A sneer crossed her features and then the girl gives a small cry as a dagger emerged on the other side of her chest. But The Rani just shoved her carcass aside and strolled forward, wiping away the blood from her hand.

No, The Rani doesn’t murder people without a reason. But messing with her experiments or causing a failure? Now that was most definitely going to end with ones death. She stormed over to the main computer systems, her blood rushing. She’d slaughter the lot of them.

“Worthless fools! They don’t deserve to live after everything I’ve done for them! I made their planet better, not them.” It was of course, for her own purpose, but that was hardly the point. So great was her anger that she had yet to notice the other Time Lord behind her.


I'm rewatching S3E5 and guys I just noticed
  • <p><b><p></b> <b></b> At the mayoral party when Ed reveals Butch as the Red Hood leader, and Oswald is freaking out and confronting Butch, he only gets mad enough to actually strike Butch when Butch insults EDWARD. Like Butch starts about "you and that sniveling-" and Oswald actually stops him before he can finish by smacking the shit out of him.<p/><b></b> Like jesus, these two.<p/></p><p/></p>
The Signs as Bitchy Things Sherlock Says

Aries: Oh shut up, it’s quick.

Taurus: Don’t snivel, Mrs Hudson. It will do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet

Gemini: Dear God. What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring.

Cancer: Put that in your blog—or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world!

Leo: You were thinking. It’s annoying

Virgo: People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned

Libra: Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street

Scorpio: If I were to look at naked women I’d borrow John’s laptop

Sagittarius: Don’t make people into heroes, John. Heroes don’t exist, and if they did, I wouldn’t be one of them.

Capricorn: Ha. Look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing.

Aquarius: Your mind; it’s so placid, straight-forward, barely used

Pisces: Oh, I don’t know…I thought you perhaps might have found yourself a…goldfish.