demi mais

If there’s a bison miraculous it should go to Kim, just saying… cause he’s bi and he’s my son

It may be the season of cheerful carols and twinkling lights, but the holidays also bring about a melancholy mood that has inspired some of the world’s greatest filmmakers. This week on the Criterion Channel at FilmStruck, our new series Blue Christmas gathers an international selection of films that explore the clashing emotions at the heart of the yuletide spirit, including Jacques Demy’s gorgeous musical romance The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Guillermo del Toro’s emotionally captivating fantasy Cronos, and Luis García Berlanga’s stinging satire Plácido. Watch our teaser below, and head over to the Channel to dive into the seven-film lineup.

On the Channel: Blue Christmas

I just started a re-read of Lady Chatterley’s Lover for book club. I haven’t thought much of the book. I’m pretty indifferent to it. But just now, reading the beginning, this strikes me very much:

Both Hilda and Constance had had their tentative love-affairs by the
time they were eighteen. The young men with whom they talked so
passionately and sang so lustily and camped under the trees in such
freedom wanted, of course, the love connexion. The girls were doubtful,
but then the thing was so much talked about, it was supposed to be so
important. And the men were so humble and craving. Why couldn't a girl
be queenly, and give the gift of herself?

So they had given the gift of themselves, each to the youth with whom
she had the most subtle and intimate arguments. The arguments, the
discussions were the great thing: the love-making and connexion were
only a sort of primitive reversion and a bit of an anti-climax. One was
less in love with the boy afterwards, and a little inclined to hate
him, as if he had trespassed on one's privacy and inner freedom. For,
of course, being a girl, one's whole dignity and meaning in life
consisted in the achievement of an absolute, a perfect, a pure and
noble freedom. What else did a girl's life mean? To shake off the old
and sordid connexions and.

And however one might sentimentalize it, this sex business was one of
the most ancient, sordid connexions and subjections. Poets who
glorified it were mostly men. Women had always known there was
something better, something higher. And now they knew it more
definitely than ever. The beautiful pure freedom of a woman was
infinitely more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate
thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They
insisted on the sex thing like dogs.

And a woman had to yield. A man was like a child with his appetites. A
woman had to yield him what he wanted, or like a child he would
probably turn nasty and flounce away and spoil what was a very pleasant
connexion. But a woman could yield to a man without yielding her inner,
free self. That the poets and talkers about sex did not seem to have
taken sufficiently into account. A woman could take a man without
really giving herself away. Certainly she could take him without giving
herself into his power. Rather she could use this sex thing to have
power over him. For she only had to hold herself back in sexual
intercourse, and let him finish and expend himself without herself
coming to the crisis: and then she could prolong the connexion and
achieve her orgasm and her crisis while he was merely her tool.

And this, this speaks to me. 

wholockgal  asked:

FMK: Parker, Holtzmann, and... Evie Carnahan. Go!

YOU ARE A CRUEL WOMAN AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS.

(I will probably forgive you for this)

F: Evie

Originally posted by drunkbroadway

(Funny story: I actually headcanon both Parker and Holtzmann on the ace spectrum?  Not Evie though.)

M: Parker

Originally posted by kane-town

(LOOKIT THE ADORABLE BEAN!  Also, oddly, Holtzmann doesn’t seem the marrying type?)

K(ick all the ghost ass with): Holtzmann!

Originally posted by kashymcgay

It’s Sleepover Saturday, come to my inbox and say words!

perxofbeingawarrior  asked:

I know you probably get asked this a lot, and I apologize... but how do I know I'm ace & not demi if I've never had sex? it almost feels wrong to call myself ace & say I don't want sex if I don't know if I could be demi. (even though I know ace is an umbrella term) I know you don't have to do something to know you don't want to, but it's more of me not wanting to identify as ace if I may be demi, just not know it yet. I feel like I'm lying. does that make sense? ps, thank you for your blog😘

Trust me; you don’t learn anything about yourself after sex, aside from how quickly your jaw can get sore. Sex with one person versus sex with another, for a short period of time versus a long term relationship, a vanilla romp or a vore roleplay, etc … there’s no definite way to ‘determine’ anything with sex.

And there’s no way to ‘determine’ your identity either. We all just up and chose to identify as something, and nothing anyone can say or do can overrule that.

- Fae

being demi is weird cause you’re like

“you’re my best friend and I love you” *hugs*

“you’re my best friend and I love you”  *sleep in the same bed*

“you’re my best friend and I love you”  *cheek kisses*

“you’re my best friend and I lo- oh. Oh no, fuck what if this ruins everything" 

"you’re my best friend and I love you”

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Arthurian Legend on Tv shows - Part [3/…]