Sunderlorn Replied To Your Post “YOU! ONCE YOU GET THIS, YOU HAVE TO SAY FIVE NICE THINGS ABOUT YOURSELF

i finally got around to getting the firefox youtube dislikes extension and i think this enhances my experience immensely

carletoncolton - GPOY 4: Ten Years' Difference

Ok Dr. Phil’s wife, Robin, (yes groan, but listen up) has this new app out (iPhone and Android) that’s for people in abusive relationships. It’s called Aspire News and it’s disguised as a regular news app, but when you go to the “Help” section of the app, it leads you to...

How to Understand Asexual People

Asexuality in the world of biological reproduction means that a single organism can produce offspring identical to the parent. But in terms of human sexuality, it simply means a person feels no sexual attraction. The important thing to...

This is the best single article I’ve ever read on asexuality. Brief, down to earth, and still comprehensive and accurate, and it doesn’t leave you with a million unanswered questions. If you ever need a basic go-to article to give your friends, this one is good!

221

"That's the last,

and you're in with the fire.

Out of the shattering finality,

the last moment,

awake or asleep;

disbelieving, incredulous.

...

Old.

He raised a hand, half-hidden.

Then he mumbled, staring,

"Mother of God."

...

Tears coursing his cheeks,

he kissed his neighbor awake.

...

In the gloom,

my eyes

and you."

That about sums up my reaction on seeing these. I managed to retain my dignity for all of about .02 seconds and then lost it. I love them! So much! Ahhhh! >//<

*ahem* Right. I'm delighted that you got some use out of my photos, kokomiko - seeing them go from refs to portrait studies was a real treat. Thank you!

Draw-a-follower thingy starts! This is Carletoncolton, who was very generous to give me some of her photos for reference and practice, i think those turned out fine ( a wanderer and a noire lady?). Expect to see more soon!

And please don’t hesitate and send me your photos, it will be a great help and i’m always happy to draw something for my followers.

You're asexual? But...

“but sex is what makes us human!”

  in 1916 a French officer in his twenties writes his

doctoral dissertation under

heavy mortar fire.

he sends it by mail, a page

at a time, to his wife.

a week before he’s to step up to the podium and

defend his work rather than hiscountry

he is killed in action.

even as the bullets rip

through him he still wishes he could have become a professor

in French literature and

the university awards him a posthumous Ph.D.

sex is

  a woman breaks down in tears on the phone because

a week is not enough time to

get over a breakup.

her sister drives an hour across town,

comes up the front steps with

a gallon of ice cream and somebeer

and together they eat moose tracks and marathon

every

single

Godzilla movie

ever made.

  sex is

she’s late for work but her car isn’t

starting and even through her coat and hat she’s cold.

she knows she can’t be late again because she’s missed

one time too many already because her

father’s nurse was sick with the flu and someone

needed to help him bathe.

the clock ticks past fifteen after and she hits

the wheel like it’s a heavy bag as though that will help

steps on the gas like the car will go

and wonders how she will pay rent

and how she will feed her father.

sex is

  it takes three people to hold the predator down because

even with the cover over his head

a bleeding eye and shattered wing

he is trying to hurt them.

none of them have seen this bird before in their lives but

they bandage his wing and head and give him a painkiller and

put him in a warm place to sleep and heal because

it is right.

at first he is paralyzed and cannot

fly but soon he is taking steps

and then fluttering, and then soaring, and

six months later he is whole and healed and hunting.

once he is gone they never see him again

which means they’ve done their jobs right.

sex is

  in 1969 a girl watches grey-and-white footage on her parents’ tiny television and

can’t quite believe that what she is seeing is not a movie set but

another planet.

the men on the screen look a little like

aliens with bulbous heads and no faces and fat

marshmallow arms

but they are still men.

her mother puffs on a cigarette behind her and declares that

this is progress

even if it was just a small step.

the girl grows up to be not an astronaut but a secretary

and her boss calls her ‘sweetheart’.

but sex is

  a boy is taught that real men don’t cry so

he doesn’t.

when his best friend dies from a self-inflicted

gunshot wound, he locks himself

in the shower every day and sobs under scalding

water until it runs cold

so nobody will see him grieving

so nobody will see that tears are just love that

has no place left to go.

he learns to dull love rather than suppress its expression and

soon the owner of the liquor store knows him by name.

three DUIs, two evictions, and twelve steps later,

he is feeding people at a homeless shelter,

and telling them it’s all right to cry.

Sex is

  the broken man tells the comedian

that he didn’t mean to step in front of the car but the rain

made it hard to see.

he seems okay but his leg

does not.

the comedian clutches a grubby receipt with the driver’s

plate number scrawled on the back

in pink pen, stands out in the rain so the broken man

can have his umbrella,

and gives him the comedy routine that ruined his career

so the man doesn’t think about the pain in his leg.

once he’s out of the hospital, the fixed man sends him a thank-you card

with kittens on it.

what makes us human

  yawning is contagious,

and there is a species of bird whose young we call “pufflings”.

melodic collections of sound, spaced by silence,

can move us to tears.

the tallest building in the world is

two-thousand seven-hundred and seventeen feet tall.

in less than eighty years we went from our first powered flight

to touching the moon,

and in one-hundred from the first phone call

to instantaneous connection between thinking machines of our own creation.

we make pies out of tree organs

and let cow’s milk ferment until it hardens and then

we put them together, because apple pie with cheddar cheese is delicious.

what makes us human is

the earliest fossils of anatomically modern humans are

two-hundred thousand years old .

we have had pet dogs

for sixteen-thousand of those years, longer

than corn

or the wheel.

the steps we take are part of

one of the most energy-efficient gaits the

animal kingdom has ever seen.

we invented the concepts of love

and hate

and justice, and mercy

and we invented the language to convey them.

we sharpened rocks, then metal, to convince other people

who don’t hold the same idea of those things as we do

because we think

it’s right.

we are two hundred millennia of love and disappointment and

sorrow and innovation and

mercy and kindness and dreams

and failure

and recovery.

but sex is what makes us human.

i told my boyfriend i was demisexual so i had to expalin to him that demisexual is the kind of people who feel sexual attraction to someone with an emotional bond, and he said "yeah just like everyone else"... how i am supposed to react to that? i told him that no, because lot of people is alright with one night stands, but he was insisting everyone was like this..

This is a hard one that I’ve struggled with too, because as demisexuals we know that our experience is fundamentally different, but often times harder to pin down than saying we’re strictly asexual. Here’s how I explained it to my mom. I’m not sure how useful this is, especially since it’s about how *I* experience demisexuality, which might be different than how you or others do, but maybe it’ll help.So imagine that sex is coffee right? People love coffee. Coffee is everywhere. There’s a Starbucks on every corner, coffee drinkers in every TV show and movie, and billboards and ad spots about coffee all the time. People who like coffee might be peculiar about how they want their coffee— maybe they like it with sugar or soy milk, or only in the mornings before 10, or only when they’re studying, only from Starbucks or only from their local coffee house, etc. Or they might not care— they might like coffee no matter when or how it’s made. They’ll buy it from anyone and take it in whatever form because they really like coffee. But they all agree that in general they like coffee.

And then there are people who don’t like coffee at all. They can’t stand it. They don’t want coffee at any point of the day, no matter how it’s made or who makes it. Nothing you can do makes coffee in any way appealing to them. Coffee lovers are generally baffled by this, and some might insist that people who don’t like coffee just haven’t had the right cup, but the fact is that people who don’t like coffee simply just don’t like coffee.

And then there are people like us: we don’t generally like coffee, and we wouldn’t choose to have coffee on our own. Like the people who don’t like coffee, we can go years without a cup of coffee and it doesn’t bother us at all.

But we have a friend who loves coffee, and we love that friend. And the longer we’re friends, the more we want to have coffee with them. Not because coffee has suddenly become our favorite drink, but because we love our coffee-drinking friend and THEY make us want coffee. So we go out for coffee with them, and we enjoy having coffee because we’re having coffee with them. If we weren’t with them, we wouldn’t want coffee.

"But everybody feels that way" isn’t true. Coffee lovers still want coffee even when their conditions for having coffee aren’t met. Just because they’re not drinking coffee right now, or because they might have preferences for when & how they drink coffee, doesn’t mean they stop liking coffee. But for people like us, if we’re not having coffee with that specific person, then we don’t care about coffee. It holds absolutely no appeal or value. We have to have that connection before we ever want coffee. Coffee lovers might want that connection when they have coffee too, but they also generally want coffee as a thing in itself.

That’s the difference between being demisexual and being an allosexual who likes to have emotional connections with their partners. An allosexual person still likes and wants sex as a thing itself, even if the conditions for having sex aren’t being met. They think about and desire sex outside of the conditions they set for engaging in the actual act. A demisexual person doesn’t care about sex as a thing in itself, because sex is inherently tied to emotional bonding for them. We don’t think about sex as an act involving us unless it’s under those conditions.

That may or may not be the worst analogy ever, I honestly don’t know, sorry. It seemed to work for my mom, but that might be because she really likes coffee *shrugs*

If anyone following this blog has any resources on how to respond to that type of response they’d like to direct the anon to, please let me know so I can post them!

Hope that helps!

And One More for the Road - Craig Boone x Courier 6

With three rows of tents set aside just for medical services, and nearly all of them full, it said quite a bit about Leigh that she was given one of the smaller ones all to herself. Doctor Richards is nothing if not attentive—chary and cold though he may be, he’s one of the better doctors the NCR has in Nevada. Other patients were more deserving of his care, Leigh argues at least once a day, but neither he nor General Oliver will hear it.

(“You’re a goddamn hero in my book,” said Oliver while she was too weary and sore to understand just how high that praise was, coming from him. “Remind me to offer you a cigar when you’re healed up.”)

Though she insisted Boone be looked over, he refused and the doctor agreed with him. He didn’t have more than a few scratches and bruises, and those healed days ago. Boone watches her, a bit like the way a nurse watches his elderly charge—don’t you move, you’ll hurt yourself, let me get it, it’s really no trouble—and she smiles when she thinks of him as a caregiver. It’s foreign, but humorous in its way when she can envision him doting over someone’s darling grandmother or chasing an all-too spirited child.

The latter spurs an ache in her chest, one much different from the stitched-up wounds crisscrossing the same area. Imagining him as a father—a happy one at that—is one of those scenarios that could almost be possible. It hurts even more to think of it in those terms.

Keep reading