L'incofutabilita'
di certe cose.
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
sheepfilms
DEAR READER
Misplaced Lens Cap
i don't do bad sauce passes
styofa doing anything
Cosmic Funnies

Andulka

shark vs the universe
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Show & Tell
h

Kiana Khansmith
NASA
tumblr dot com
Sade Olutola

ellievsbear

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Origami Around
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@stickypistil
L'incofutabilita'
di certe cose.
dead 💯
sometimes🤷🏻♀️
Moon and Venus conjunction
.🖤🌔
.🖤🖤🖤
“…the older I get, the more I see how women are described as having gone mad, when what they’ve actually become is knowledgeable and powerful and fucking furious.”
— Sophie Heawood (via brosetta-stone)
...mood. just a little. 🖤
I remember first learning that you can cry from any emotion, that emotions are chemical levels in your brain and your body is constantly trying to maintain equilibrium. so if one emotion sky rockets, that chemical becomes flagged and signals the tear duct to open as an exit to release that emotion packaged neatly within a tear. Everything made sense after learning that. That sudden stability of your emotions after crying. How crying is often accompanied by the inability to feel any other emotion in that precise moment. And it is especially beautiful knowing that it is even possible to experience so much beauty or love or happiness that your body literally can’t hold on to all of it. So what I’ve learned is that crying signifies that you are feeling as much as humanely possible and that is living to the fullest extent. So keep feeling and cry often and as much as needed
SHIT WHAT
Also let yourself cry. It really is a biochemical release valve to dump out all the chemicals that make you feel stuff.
I honestly think one reason men in western culture have so many problems is that we don’t let them cry, and literally their brains get stuffed with all this crap that doesn’t have a release valve. Men, please cry. You’ll feel better. It’s ok. You are not lesser for taking care of your health.
This is why tears from different emotions look different under an electron microscope. They’re literally made up of different things.
Happy tears are structurally different than sad tears than angry tears than overwhelmed tears etc.
I looked it up, cuz that tidbit was dope to me and..
When you realize this and feel all the years of being asked "why are you crying now?" in varying tones of empathy and derision melt away, it's like a weight is lifted from your shoulders.
And you cry with relief.
If I was born as a blackthorn tree
I'd wanna be felled by you
Held by you
Fuel the pyre of your enemies
“She loves the wolf. She does not love the lamb. Not just any wolf. She loves the wolf that is capable of love. It is even more complicated: she loves the wolf who contains, hides or reveals an unexpected sweetness in his violence. The sweetness of the cruel is a greater sweetness.”
— Hélène Cixous, from Rootprints: Memory and Life Writing; “The Story of the Wolf who loves the Lamb he does not Eat,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
This reminds me of a thought I had yesterday.
About how much I detest wolves in sheep's clothing.
I much prefer the wolf himself.
Bliss in Submission
I preface this by saying I don’t dislike bratty subs. I love you little chaos monsters. You’re wonderful. But as I’ve gotten older and been able to make firm, vicious control just a tool in the box, and not the centerpiece of what I am as a dom, I have started to untangle that sadism and the control from each other. Which isn’t to say either of them are diminished, more of… distilled. More focused. I don’t chase that game of resistance leading to retaliation leading to submission anymore. I mean, time and place for some push back, obviously, but the idea of that being a constant part of the dynamic doesn’t appeal the way it used to. These days I am drawn, very hard, to a form of submission that takes exuberant joy in the act of giving itself over to me. Not because they’re afraid, or because they’re a masochist–though obviously that can be part of it–, but because they want to make me happy. Surrender as an act of piety, if you will. Do they enjoy being hurt? Do they enjoy doing what they’re told? Do they enjoy the firm handling? Doesn’t matter. They make their most prominent feature the submission itself. They will do everything within their control and personal limits to be a good girl, a useful girl, a pleasing girl, because my pleasure is the end game. Physically or emotionally, they are looking to be pleasing. It creates a reaction I’m just in love with. Given a command, a chance to be used, they bristle with excitement. No push back, no question. “Yes, Sir” with a smile. Maybe you’re about to collar them to a tie point for an hour, torture their sensitive nipples just to hear them whimper while you work an anal hook in deep enough to force them to their tiptoes, or maybe you’re just going to ask them to keep track of how long your tea has been steeping. It doesn’t matter. In their world it’s the same thing. It’s a chance to show you surrender, and more so, how much they love giving you that surrender. What they are capable of when they trust your hand to control their world. Legitimately that very particular, very rare, look in their eyes when they realize you’re about to give them direction is the greatest drug in the whole world.
Do you think anything might tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Do you deny that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to censure of the world for caprice and my sister to derision for disappointed hopes, involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?
Pride & Prejudice (2005) dir. by Joe Wright
constantly 🖤
this reminds me of a dream I had once. dark and rainy, thunder and lightning. each rain drop melting away their skin, one by one, faster and faster, until animals within were revealed.
it was everything I know it could have been.