sumo wrestlers in a sunflower field
Reclining Nude | 20x16 in. | oil on panel.
a continued exploration of body hair and my own queer identity
Literally the ass of the world.
go to this random coordinates generator and say in the tags how you would fare if you were dropped where it generates without warning. i’ll go first i’d be dropped in the middle of the fucking south atlantic ocean and perish
Something that really fucks me up is this scene where Robin says she wants to die and how Luffy makes this face
And upon reading this for the first time, I felt a huge wave of emotion over his expression because it just felt to me like when he heard that, he was seeing something else. Almost like a memory that we weren't being shown.
And then later when Ace and Luffy's backstory plays out, this is revealed;
That Ace was suicidal. Feeling like it was wrong for him to have even been born and to live. Feeling hurt, angry, alone and unwanted.
And that the only reason he felt like he had the strength to keep living was because Luffy told him that he didn't want him to die.
Ace never directly told Luffy that he wanted to kill himself. But with the way he carried himself and the obvious disregard he had for his life, it was easy to see for someone as empathetic and intuitive as Luffy. And so Luffy stayed close to Ace desperately until he felt strong enough to stand on his own.
Luffy has had so many suicidal people in his life since such a young age and he always saves them in such a seemingly effortless way just by saying
"I'll be there with you. I'll stay."
But what alot of people don't understand is that in spite of Luffy's endless empathy, compassion and love that's deeper than the ocean, when somebody he loves wants to die it always hurts him so bad and it shows so much on his face at even a hint of it.
He bounces back with a smile so often and kicks so much ass that it's so easy to forget sometimes that he's just this 17-19 year old kid...
Who, at his core, is still always crying and begging the people he loves not to leave him because he doesn't want to be alone anymore, either.
My mom keeps the oven clock 5 min fast and what a treat it was to be downstairs see it was 4:20, have a little giggle, go upstairs, continue my video I was watching, ADHD mind wipe me checking the time, and look up at my phone clock and get to experience 4:20 once again!
I am particularly fond of the snakes known as hognose snakes, and my reasons are both understandable and correct.
(They received their name by having the sweetest lil snoot to ever require a boop – image source)
(you could say they’re into… the Underground Scene! …ok yeah i’ll show myself out – image source)
We’ve got brown! Beige! Yellow! Black! Red! Orange! Tan! Kinda greenish! Orange again!
(pretty sneks! – Here’s all the image sources: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)
And, to be clear, the snakes pictured above are wild snakes. No selective breeding by humans in these noodly bois! At least, not in these specific individuals. probably. I guess a few of them could be escapees…
Hognose snakes are actors, first and foremost. When they feel threatened, the first thing they do is puff out their neck into a hood.
(like cobras, this hood is made by FLEXING THEIR NECK RIBS. which: gross – image source x)
This superficially makes them look like a cobra, but what they’re actually trying to do is make themselves seem bigger, and therefore scarier. Possibly those dark spots on their neck helps with that!
Any resemblance to real-life Eurasian cobras, real or fictional, is purely coincidental
(Snakes that SCREAAAAAAAM. – image source)
But if all of that^ is unsuccessful at scaring away the predator, the hognose snake pulls its signature move: playing dead
If you think that is a lame signature move, then you are wrong, because hognose snakes put EVERYTHING into their performance and I love them for it.
(they’re serious, they’ll do it! – image source)
((I’m actually going to stick the rest of this under a read-more, bc the pictures of the alive-and-physically-fine hognose snakes do kind of look like a legitimately-dead hognose snake, if you don’t know what to look for.
So, uh: cw for a snake being too good at pretending to be dead))
Keep reading
One of the best parts about working at a sex shop is the employee discount, and yeah that means excellent deals on sex supplies but that's not the big brain part.
You come to my house. Something is cooking in the kitchen- it smells wonderful. What is it? It's novelty dick-shaped pasta. I've set up a sensual sexy Italian dinner. There are candles set up on the table. They're melting too fast, dripping everywhere- they're low temp waxplay pillar candles. For dessert, I serve you a delicious ice cream topped in penis-shaped rainbow confetti sprinkles and strawberry body paint drizzle, and afterwards, serve coffee with roasted hazelnut warming lube.
We play a board game while we drink. It's sexy monopoly. It's your turn. You roll the dice. They come up as 'whisper into' and 'butt'. I lost the original dice. We're using the sexy dice. You move four spaces.
After dinner, I run you a bath. A bubble bath. The bubble gel? Sensual ocean breeze. There are candles lined up around the tub. The scent is overpowering. Why? They're three-in-one fruit flavored massage oil candles. I'm using so much. It's so wasteful. Do you want to shave? I have conditioning shave cream that smells like limes. And an electric body razor, but you can't use that in the tub.
How about a bath bomb? You toss one in. It's cherry blossom scented. As it dissolves, three sexy bath sex suggestion cards fall out. They're all variations on doggy style, probably because fucking in a bathtub is probably the easiest way to break your hip.
The water cools. You get out an dry off with a novelty towel. If you wrap it around your chest, it looks like you have gigantic tatas bursting through the fabric like the Hulk.
You walk into the bedroom. I'm there, reading an instructional book titled "The Housewife's Guide To Every Day Stripping". I'm wearing a neck pillow designed to look like a massive curved weiner. Also a pair of fake leather bondage leggings and an oversized men's christmas T-shirt that says "Jingle My Bells" across the front.
I see you come in. I put down the book, take off the pillow. Offer you a massage. You accept. I already burned up all the massage candles so I pop a new bottle of CBD massage oil that says something wrong about Chakras on it. It's very gritty. That's because there's little chunks of amethyst in it for some fucking reason. It's fine, though. You say you don't mind.
I don't do massages very often. It's bad. You end up more tense than before. One of your muscles starts to cramp- it's okay. I whip out a bottle of Lidocane topical masculine performance numbing spray. You immediately feel like your shoulder went to the dentist. It's not ideal, but it's better than cramping.
You're not in the mood to bone after that. Which is good, cause I'm actually pretty asexual, but it hasn't come up yet so I'm relieved to avoid the conversation. Instead we get ready for bed. (The weather is terrible, and I insist you stay over.) I set up the futon, then realize it smells like cigarettes from the previous owner and shyly ask if you wanna cuddle in my room. You're down.
I crawl under the covers, placing my penis-shaped pink glitter pride bottle on the side table in case one of us wakes up thirsty. Once you're settled in, I turn off the glowing bare ass night light and the room goes black.
It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you look up at the ceiling. It's dotted all over with little green flourescent lights. Are they plastic stars? No. I've pinned up a thousand glow in the dark condoms. God bless
I wish I could switch which is my main blog https://laidenbreecatchall.tumblr.com
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