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Midnight'sMistress

I'd rather be playing music.
red-lipstick:

Elisa Ancori (Barcelona, Spain) - Koi I from Metamorfish, 2014     Drawings: Pencils

red-lipstick:

Elisa Ancori (Barcelona, Spain) - Koi I from Metamorfish, 2014     Drawings: Pencils

(Source: behance.net, via breadmaakesyoufat)

vinebox:

she don’t know yet but when black moms do that, you about to die.

(Source: foxxycleopatra, via breadmaakesyoufat)

(Source: 902125, via breadmaakesyoufat)

gloomist:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.
This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.
But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.
Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.
That’s what love is. Attention to detail.
And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.
But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time. She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.
But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:
One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.
And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

this is truly sensational

gloomist:

nedhepburn:

This one time I painted a living room with a girl.

This was a handful of years back. It was about eight months before the huge, flame-out of a breakup. That day, though? That day we painted the living room? It was pretty uneventful. We painted my parents living room for $50 between us and a pizza. That was it. I think we watched Anchorman or something after that.

But it still holds as on of the most indelible memories I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not still in love, it happened, it was good, it ended, and we’ve both moved on. But I’ll never forget that day. Because it’s never, in the long run, about the grand gestures. You can fly across the world and show up on her doorstep with a rose in your teeth and a ring in a little velvet box but I can guarantee you that - more often than not - she’s going to remember the time you built the birdhouse in the back yard, or what have you, a whole lot more.

Life wasn’t meant to be taken in large movements. The next day will inevitably arrive, you’ll sleep, and the moment will have passed. But when you have a hundred thousand small moments, you can step back and appreciate the picture a lot more than metaphorically blowing your load on some grand moment that, in all honesty, look, you’re not Bruce Fucking Springsteen, you’re not going to be able to blow everyone’s mind every single night. You’re not Romeo and/or Juliet. There’s no reason to drink the poison together in some flame-out gesture. So that leaves us with the small stuff. It’s all about the detail.

That’s what love is. Attention to detail.

And the moment will end. And then things will get boring. And it might get a little quiet. And it might all end horribly. And you might hate eachother at the end. And you might walk away from eachother one day and never speak again. But that’s just how it goes.

But she’ll remember the time you held the door open for her on your first date.
She’ll remember the time you laughed at her impression of the landlady.
She’ll remember the time you stayed up all night that first time.
She’ll remember the small things a lot longer than the big ones.

But everything ends. And I’ll tell you why you have to make the small things, the small moments count so much more:

One day, probably a while longer from now, when old age takes ahold of someone, she might just only remember your smile. Everything you ever did together, every second, every moment, every beat, every morning spent in bed, every evening spent together on the sofa, all of that - gone. Everything you ever did will be reduced to the head of a pin. She won’t remember your name. She’ll just remember your smile, and she’ll smile. She won’t know why. It’s a base, gut reaction. But she’ll smile, uncontrollably, and it will come from somewhere so deep as to know that you touched her on a primal, honest, and true level that no scientist, scholar, or savant could ever begin to explain. There is no more. There is nothing else. There is just this: She’ll remember your smile, and she’ll smile.

And you know what? That’s all that really matters in the end.

this is truly sensational

(via femalemantis)

pendejv:

superbestiario:

Shia Labeouf for interview magazine november 2014

By ELVIS MITCHELL

Photography CRAIG MCDEAN

HOLY SHIT THERE ARE MORE

(via femalemantis)

hlel:

Look at how straight this banana is like chill out

hlel:

Look at how straight this banana is like chill out

(Source: hleloween, via pyrocynical)

raptortooth:

mybine:

lumos5001:

amazingpeetaisnotonfire:

sluttynuggets:

aphtaiwan:

johnhamishmorstan:

I don’t understand american school years what the fuck is a freshman or a sophomore why do you have these words instead of the numbers

what why would you use numbers

so IT FUCKING MAKES SENSE WHAT THE HELL IS A SOFT MOORE OR A FRESH MAN WHY ARE THE MEN FRESH

image

America makes no sense, as usual.

bless the person that actually made the chart

laughter from France

image

France what the fuck

(Source: spookyghastly, via coluring)

kanyewestevil:

WE ONLY USE LEASHES BECAUSE DOGS CANT HOLD HANDS

(Source: kanyewesticle, via ruinedchildhood)

roselastrider:

i spilled water on my computer mouse earlier and now it’s freaking out and highlighting everything and dragging everything around and it would not let me put down that picture of richard nixon i had a fucking ghost richard nixon smiling at me for 5 minutes as i frantically shook my mouse around trying to make it stop its still doing this please leave me alone richard nixon

roselastrider:

i spilled water on my computer mouse earlier and now it’s freaking out and highlighting everything and dragging everything around and it would not let me put down that picture of richard nixon i had a fucking ghost richard nixon smiling at me for 5 minutes as i frantically shook my mouse around trying to make it stop its still doing this please leave me alone richard nixon

(via coluring)

undelightfully:

"Its beautiful, just like you my darling"

undelightfully:

"Its beautiful, just like you my darling"

(via sorry)

kendrug:

dont tell me how to live my life

kendrug:

dont tell me how to live my life

(via sorry)