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Van Gogh - Roses, detail

Van Gogh - Roses, detail

(Source: wasbella102, via pinkocyclist)

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annafestdestiny:

The perks of being an occasional hand model
deborahlippmann:

Taking it back to one of our favorite decades with our 80’s Rewind collection. This look was created with Don’t Stop Believin’, She Drives Me Crazy and Maniac.
Create your own 80’s Rewind look and tag it with #DeborahLippmann for a chance to be reblogged. 
Look created by Ria Lopez

annafestdestiny:

The perks of being an occasional hand model

deborahlippmann:

Taking it back to one of our favorite decades with our 80’s Rewind collection. This look was created with Don’t Stop Believin’She Drives Me Crazy and Maniac.

Create your own 80’s Rewind look and tag it with #DeborahLippmann for a chance to be reblogged. 

Look created by Ria Lopez

Photoset

fjordlorde:

randomguy2015:

sociopathintheimpala:

deducingtimeangel:

emilyissherlocked:

iou-one-jolly-time-vortex:

captainamerica-in-middle-earth:

If you listen to the end of tangled…. Rapunzel and Eugene didnt get married until several years later 

same with Aladdin and jasmine!

And Belle was trapped in that castle for months with Beast; I’m pretty sure at least a year.

Also Tiana and her prince were together as frogs for an indeterminate length of time before they married. 

Tumblr gets schooled by the Disney fandom

Also let’s not forget Aurora was betrothed (which uhh, was a thing and some places still is).

(Source: mydollyaviana, via candycanelame)

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theonion:

New App Matches You With Others In Vicinity Who Wasted $2.99 On Same App
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2k58:

princesslotus:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

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.


I just cried at this

god damn

jesus christ

2k58:

princesslotus:

thisiscasey7:

forgott-en:

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.

I just cried at this

god damn

jesus christ

(via humoristics)

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(Source: hannahbowl, via luvsmercury)

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Text

"They always say time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself." –Andy Warhol
What if I gave you all my time
And I let you change me?

Quote
"

If you want me to be completely honest… when I was younger,
I didn’t like being Black. I didn’t draw Black people when I drew pictures, I drew little yellow-haired people with peachy skin and eyes like sapphires, because that’s what I saw on the magazine covers. I was told by my White friends all the time, ‘You’re definitely not Black, Gwen, you’re as White as it gets.’

I liked this, or at the very least accepted it. Despite everything my family taught me, the media was louder, and it told me that Black was bad. It was ghetto, it was loud, it had a name that looked like it was made from smashing a keyboard. It was felony and poverty, baby daddies and stupidity, and it was a genetic disease that I was a carrier of but of which I was not actually infected.

I wasn’t Black, they said, because I was intelligent, well-spoken. I was proper and scholarly, I didn’t swear or listen to rap music, and I didn’t wear any sort of hair that didn’t grow from my own head. These traits and qualities made me "White".

But I’m seeing more and more Black celebrities doing good things, more and more Black kids like me making scientific discoveries, making inventions, contributing to the arts, and caring about the earth. I’m seeing more of these things, not because they’re finally happening, but because we’re finally paying attention. I also see some of these same amazing people listening to rap music. Some who wear weave and are loud, whose names auto-correct doesn’t recognize, who fit the "Black stereotype" that we’ve invented, and I realize that none of that makes them any less intelligent, beautiful, or valid than anybody else. People my color aren’t just the bad guys in the news or the first ones killed in horror movies. We’re so much more than that. We aren’t punching bags and we certainly aren’t anybody’s punchline.

Yes, friends of mine who so often mislabeled my ethnicity, I am extremely intelligent, and kind, and beautiful (and not just "pretty, you know, for a Black girl”). Yes, I am all of these things, and I am also Black.

Blackness and brilliance are not mutually exclusive.

"

Gwenlightened, Letters to My Future Children and What I Wish I Knew at Your Age #71: Representation is Important - “Black” is Not Synonymous With “Bad” (via gwenlightened)

(via gwenlightened)

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onewasmysterious:

Period drama costumes

→ Anne Boleyn, The Tudors s02e02

(via voldemortsn0se)

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dyrus:

omg

dyrus:

omg

(via bearsdenvevo)

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a-wild-violet:

I WANT THATTT

a-wild-violet:

I WANT THATTT

Video

tyleroakley:

ihearttangled:

STOP EVERYTHING!!!!! SOMETHING THAT I WANT MUSIC VIDEO MADE BY WALT DISNEY ANIMATION STUDIOS INCLUES DANCING GLEN KEANE! 

WHY DID I CRY THIS WAS SO CUTE

That was adorable wow

(Source: the-cali4nian)

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kylejthompson:

Untitled - Kyle Thompson