Hello Sweeties

Veronica. 16. USA. Multi-fandom blogger who is also a feminist and LGBTQ supporter. Welcome to a world of pure fangirling.

pvnk-is-dad:

I crave intimacy but I get confused and uncomfortable when I’m shown even the slightest bit of attention or affection.

(Source: evolved-emo, via somethingunlikeanythingelse)

marylovesbooks:

soulpunc:

"oh, hey what are you reading?"
*shows book cover*

"what’s it about?"
*mumbles unintelligibly*

(via klausxcamille)

frankierospanties:

What are you doing to prepare for [singing]?”

(Source: frankierospanties)

northwangerabbey:

starkexpos:

buzzfeed:

itriedthatonceitwasabadmove:

austinabridged:

itriedthatonceitwasabadmove:

As a professional internet, it’s my job to search the web for quality, intellectually stimulating content. Like this.

The heavens parted, and delivered unto us a scion of hope, a glimmer of immortality. This song.

Its been a few hours since I posted this and I’m pretty sure I’ve gone back to listen to it about twelve times now and each time it still makes me almost develop a hernia from laughing so much.

i’ve never loved something the way i love this post

oh my god I am weeping

(via a-christmas-spudgy)

“The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people’s hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists. The gestures were complex and subtle, involving a delicacy of motion that has since been lost completely.

During the Age of Silence, people communicated more, not less. Basic survival demanded that the hands were almost never still, and so it was only during sleep (and sometimes not even then) that people were not saying something or other. No distinction was made between the gestures of language and the gestures of life. The labor of building a house, say, or preparing a meal was no less an expression than making the sign for I love you or I feel serious. When a hand was used to shield one’s face when frightened by a loud noise something was being said, and when fingers were used to pick up what someone else had dropped something was being said; and even when the hands were at rest, that, too, was saying something. Naturally, there were misunderstandings. There were times when a finger might have been lifted to scratch a nose, and if casual eye contact was made with one’s lover just then, the lover might accidentally take it to be the gesture, not at all dissimilar, for Now I realize I was wrong to love you. These mistakes were heartbreaking. And yet, because people knew how easily they could happen, because they didn’t go round with the illusion that they understood perfectly the things other people said, they were used to interrupting each other to ask if they’d understood correctly. Sometimes these misunderstandings were even desirable, since they gave people a reason to say, Forgive me, I was only scratching my nose.Of course I know I’ve always been right to love you. Because of the frequency of these mistakes, over time the gesture for asking forgiveness evolved into the simplest form. Just to open your palm was to say: Forgive me.”

—   Nicole Krauss, The History of Love (via wordsnquotes)

(via wordsnquotes)

boxoftheskyking:

shortformblog:

"Dress for the job you have, not the job you want." I could spend hours catching you guys up on the Ferguson situation, but I’ll let John Oliver do it for me. As you probably know, so much of the commentary on the situation in Missouri has been embarrassing and unfortunate; when someone like Oliver (or Jelani Cobb) gets it right, we need to give them props.

13:40 on is particularly striking, I think.

(via hummingbird-hooligan)

The Poetica podcast - Ben Whishaw, sea poems

professorfangirl:

Ben Whishaw reading poems about the sea. I am drowning.

***

‘One Day I wrote her name upon the strand’ by Edmund Spenser

‘Ode To The Sea’ (extract) by Pablo Neruda

‘Dover Beach’ by Matthew Arnold

‘The Inspector of Tides’ by Michael Dransfield

‘Annabel Lee’ by Edgar Allan Poe

‘Love sonnet LXXVIII’ by Pablo Neruda

***

(From the Poetica podcast, “Tides.”)

Read by Ben Whishaw - E. A. Poe, "Annabel Lee"

professorfangirl:

Ben Whishaw reading “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe. I’ve never heard the strange, tender, spooky heart of it quite so clearly.

(My audio edit from the Poetica podcast, “Tides.”)

There’s so much more to you than you know. Not just pain, and anger. There’s good, too, I felt it. 

(Source: lehnsherres, via shapeshiftingpenis)

literallyrad:

literallyrad:

literallyrad:

literallyrad:

literallyrad:

im making friends with the netflix customer service guy

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aw troy

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how sweet of you 

I’M TALKING TO A DIFFERENT ONE AND TROY ASKED ABOTU ME

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I FOUND TROY AGAIN A DAY LATER AND HE’S GONNA HIRE ME AS HIS PERSONAL PUBLICIST 

(via every-singleday)