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DEAR READER
ojovivo
taylor price
Jules of Nature

JBB: An Artblog!
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
almost home
One Nice Bug Per Day
Cosmic Funnies

if i look back, i am lost
i don't do bad sauce passes
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Cosimo Galluzzi

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@halcyonwriter
reblog if your account is a trans safe space or owned by a trans person!
THIS SPACE IS TRANS SAFE!
JUST LET ME BE.
Reblog if you are an asexual positive blog, believe asexuals exist, and are willing and able to create a safe space for your asexual friends
As an Asexual myself, YES
As someone who is now 99% sure they might be ace…
YES. THIS. BOTH SIDES NEED TO SEE THIS.
As an asexual, I deal with this a lot, and it’s not okay :/
As an asexual, REBLOG YOU COWARDS
ASEXUALS ARE REAL AND 1000% VALID AND FUCK EVERYBODY ELSE WHO THINKS THEY AREN’T
MY BEST FRIEND IS ACE, SHE DEALS WITH THIS SHIT A LOT AND IT’S NOT OK!
Be happy!! There are people who support you too!!!!
!!!!
As someone on the ace/aro spectrum aces are 100% valid. Anyone who thinks otherwise can fuck off.
Another one is doctors and therapists telling you you need psychosexual therapy to “cure” your lack of sexual attraction.
If you have ever experienced this, no, you dont need curing.
Yyyyyyyeeeeeesssss
Should go without saying.
i am definitely everyone in that second comic
aces are valid, aces are real, aces are NOT broken, aces are amazing and always welcome and safe on my blog
Ace people are valid, and while I may not be asexual I love and support everyone who is!
Biromantic (possibly) asexual here. Asexuality is SO valid.
Very ace, will give all my fellow aces a hug if you need me
We Cannot Forget
Do not forget the people who lost their lives in Orlando, FL on June 12, 2016 at Pulse Nightclub.
A staggering *102 people were affected that night, and became victims, or survivors of one of the worst, deadliest terrorist attacks in the U.S. since the September 11 attacks in 2001.
Many were Hispanic.
Fifty people died four years ago that night. *But only 49 deserve to be remembered. The fiftieth was 29-year-old Omar Mateen, the man who was responsible for this tragedy. Targeting a gay bar was not intentional on Omar's part, supposedly, but regardless this was still an undeniable tragedy almost halfway through Pride Month.
Remember the names of his LGBT+ victims in this act of hate and terror that day.
🕯️🏳️🌈🕯️
Stanley Almodovar III, 23
Amanda Alvear, 25
Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26
Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33
Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21
Martin Benitez Torres, 33
Antonio D. Brown, 30
Darryl R. Burt II, 29
Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24
Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28
Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, 31
Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25
Luis D. Conde, 39
Cory J. Connell, 21
Tevin E. Crosby, 25
Franky J. Dejesus Velazquez, 50
Deonka D. Drayton, 32
Mercedez M. Flores, 26
Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22
Juan R. Guerrero, 22
Paul T. Henry, 41
Frank Hernandez, 27
Miguel A. Honorato, 30
Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40
Jason B. Josaphat, 19
Eddie J. Justice, 30
Anthony L. Laureano Disla, 25
Christopher A. Leinonen, 32
Brenda L. Marquez McCool, 49
Jean C. Mendez Perez, 35
Akyra Monet Murray, 18
Kimberly Morris, 37
Jean C. Nieves Rodriguez, 27
Luis O. Ocasio-Capo, 20
Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25
Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36
Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32
Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25
Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37
Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24
Christopher J. Sanfeliz, 24
Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35
Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25
Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34
Shane E. Tomlinson, 33
Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25
Luis S. Vielma, 22
Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37
Jerald A. Wright, 31
🕯️🏳️🌈🕯️
Pulse no longer functions as a bar, standing now as a memoriam to the lives lost and affected.
Pride was always a protest.
Here is a list of Black-led LGBTQ community organizations you can donate to, compiled by pfpicardi and RaquelWillis_:
Snapco - Builds power of Black trans and queer people to force systemic divestment from the prison industrial complex and invest in community support.
Black AIDS Institute - Working to end the Black HIV epidemic through policy, advocacy, and high-quality direct HIV services.
Trans Cultural District - The world’s first-ever legally recognized trans district, which aims to stabilize and economically empower the trans community.
LGBTQ+ Freedom Fund - Posts bail for LGBTQ+ people held in jail or immigrant detention and raises awareness of the epidemic of LGBTQ overincarceration.
House of GG - Creating safe and transformative spaces for community to heal, and nurturing them into tomorrow’s leaders, focusing on trans women of color in the South.
Trans Justice Funding Project - Community-led funding initiative to support grassroots trans justice groups run by and for trans people.
The Okra Project - Collective that seeks to address the global crisis faced by Black trans people by bringing home-cooked meals and resources to the community.
Youth Breakout - Works to end the criminalization of LGBTQ youth in New Orleans to build a safer and more just community.
Being Aspec fucking slaps actually and I would never want to be allo even if there were some magic way to do that. I like being aro and I like being ace, I like our flags, I like communities, I like our symbols, I like our rings, I like our subcultures, I like our language, I like the almost inherent anarchistic ideals that are wrapped up in being aspec. I love watching people invent relationships that work for them and I love not being in a relationship. I love being Voidpunk. Just like I would never change my transness I would never want to change my aspecness.
We are the Pride Knights, and this is our battle cry No enemy can shake us, as hard as they can try There’s a fire in our eyes that no hatred can kill A passion in our hearts that’s as strong as our will To our fellow queers who fight their battles on their own We promise to fight with you, you are never alone To our fellow queers who have fallen with the pain We thank you for your courage, your fight is not in vain
We are defenders of the right to be proud of who you are To love who you love and to accept every scar We are your knights, protectors of our pride Together we stand, together we ride
These are back!
[Tees | Hoodies | Sweatshirts]
https://teespring.com/stores/prideknights
THIS IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN
HOLY SMOKES
*sparkly eyes* This is so god damn cool
I JUST REALIZED THE BI PRIDE KNIGHT HAD STARS AND CONSTELLATIONS IM-
THE ARO KNIGHT IS AN ARCHER SOMEONE APPRECIATES A PUN!!!!!!!
The Pansexual Knight has multiple/different weapons! (Two types of daggers/short swords, and more on their back!)
With pride coming up soon we really want to do something to help raise spirits. Pride may be cancelled this year, but that doesn’t mean we still can’t celebrate it. We know some of you have been wanting a PK t-shirt for a long time. So, we are doing a giveaway of some Pride Knights merch!
Click here to enter!
February 16th-22nd is Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week.
(ID: an image with a green background, white text says "Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week", black text below says "February 16-22" and "Celebrating the aro spectrum community." The the right are the gray aromantic and aromantic pride flags with photo-like frames.)
Happy Valentine's day to everyone, including aces and aros and any other aspecs! Whether you have romantic partner(s), QPP(s), or you're celebrating with friends and family, I hope you have a great Valentine's day and that you know you're loved! 💜🖤💚
The Old Man and the Cigarette
A cold crisp wind crackles up the center of the main street on a cloudless Sunday morning. The soft blue sky hangs over the small town cover in white.
Sidewalks pile high with pushed over snow the size of glaciers on the curb, with transparent sheets of ice slathered like butter.
The icicles hang from the sign of the retro-styled movie theater with the neon lights glazed over with ice.
Next to it is a local coffeehouse. Wooden chairs and tables next to the window, empty at this early hour.
A weathered old man sits on the stoop, smoking a half-lit cigarette. His breath smokes from the nicotine and the cold. His skin is chapped and his cheeks are pink from the bitter wind. His boots are covered in frost and frozen mud, with the shoelaces fayed at the ends and the soles worned beyond repair. His jacket is a size too small for his broad shoulders, but the look of content on his face shows he is happy with the amount of warmth he is getting. His body sags as if worn down, but it is difficult to tell if it is from the years or the cold. His long, dark hair reaches just below his shoulders, topped off with a forest green knit cap. Despite this weathered appearance, his dark eyes shine like the stars.
He stares motionless ahead until he looks at you.
You want to keep walking, although you really have no where to be. You feet want to keep moving.
But when you meet his gaze, there is something about his eyes that compels you to stop and stay.
Not only are they mesmerizing, but they speak.
“I have seen things and I have stories to tell,” they say. “Ask and you will hear. Ask and you will understand.”
You have stood, frozen in the same place for too long to ignore. Not only would it be rude, but you know your soul would not rest until it hears his stories.
So, you decide to sit down. He makes room for you on his stoop.
The cold from the concrete seeps through your jeans and sends goosebumps trailing over your skin. Maybe you offer him another cigarette if you smoke. Maybe you share the granola bar in your coat pocket.
Whatever you do, you never take your eyes off of him.
Pushing past your nerves, you lean in and ask the man to begin his story. His dark eyes light up at this question. He considers this question for a minute, puffing out a ring of smoke.
He leans into you.
He opens his mouth. Your heart stops.
And he begins.
Happy Asexual Awareness Week!
Reblog if you support asexuals and aren’t a COWARD
RB if your blog is a safe, accepting space for asexuals!
We out here being proud of our identities folks!
Flowers and Stone
"Are you ready?"
"Come on, girl! Throw that bouquet like you mean it!"
"Remember I'm your favorite!"
"I love you the most!"
"I got us out of detention!"
"I gave you free meal swipes!"
My friends and I answered back with wild cheers, as we stand below Alex at the bottom of the barn stairs.
A soft glow illuminates around us from the tea lights hanging from the railings and the ceiling wrapped around in green garlands with indigo flowers. Behind us, the rest of the guests mingle about on the wooden dance floor surrounded by small white tables with scattered remnants of the red velvet cake.
“Just don’t make fun of my aim from my lack of athletic ability,” Alex laughs, turning around.
“Wait! Wait!” Regan shouts, slipping off her black Mary Jane heels. “Hey Katelyn, do you want a boost?”
The shortest of our friend group sticks out her tongue. “Ha ha very funny.”
“I’m actually amazed you kept those on for so long,” Sara notes. “I have been barefoot since the ceremony was over.”
“Hey, I don’t get to where these handmade beauties every day so I am making the most of them even if they give me pain.”
“Thus, the reason why I wore my converse,” I admit proudly. “Comfortable yet aesthetically pleasing.” That and I cannot risk a fall, I add silently in my head.
“That’s our Girl Scout Avery, always thinking ahead,” Regan remarks, hugging me tightly. I embrace her a little more gently, nervous, but not wanting to cause any alarm from her.
“Hurry up Alex, I want to get some more cake before it’s all gone,” Katelyn says.
“I’ll have to race you for that opportunity,” Sara jibes, elbowing her playfully.
“Alright, alright ladies,” Alex announces, smiling wide, “here I go.”
With a simple flick of her wrist, the bouquet flies out of her hand and up into the air. Simultaneously, with the ruffle of our indigo bridesmaid dresses and the collision of heels, as well as some heads, ensues, each of us playfully jostling each other for the upper hand. Amidst all the jumping and crowding of three close friends, I somehow reach high enough over everyone’s heads to grab the sturdy green stems, somehow ungracefully entering into my hands.
"Way to go Ave!"
"Now we just need to find the groom!"
"Only if I ever finish grad school and pay off my student debt," I reply.
Laughter and broad smiles erupt as my heart becomes suddenly heavy. I keep the smile plastered onto my face to keep the moment light and attention away from me. The last few glasses of champagne are handed out, the mason jars slick with condensation on the outside.
"To Avery!" exclaims Regan, lifting her champagne glass high. "May good men come your way!"
"To my wonderful friends for being short enough that I could easily catch this!" I toast back, holding the jar above my head.
A rupture of laughter ripples through the group as the glasses clink together.
“To all of us, may our friendship last the rest of time,” Alex toasts.
“Here, here!” Katelyn exclaims.
While everyone continues to drink, and Katlyn and Sara make their way over towards the last pieces of cake, I place my mason jar still filled to the brim on the table.
Noticing me doing this Regan loops her arm in mine. “All partied out, my friend?”
I offer her a smile, trying to stifle my heightening nerves. "Yeah. I still need to get home in one piece tonight. Besides, I have a lot of schoolwork to do tomorrow.”
“You are so dedicated my girl. I wish I had your type of ambition,” she compliments. But I can see in her eyes a hint of suspicion behind my small white lie.
“I can always have someone drive you home,” Alex offers, turning to us from talking to other guests.
“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll be fine. I promise”
"You know at my wedding, we're going to be having juice boxes and those frosted animal crackers," Regan states. “Not only is it cost-effective, but you can have as much as you want without the risk of getting drunk.”
I laugh, my body feeling elated, not wanting to come back down. “So, you mean our high school reunion?”
“Basically,” Regan replies, shrugging her shoulders.
“Well count me in then!” I exclaim as Sara and Katelyn return with two pieces of cake each.
“The party may now continue!” Katelyn announces as she passes each of us a plate.
More champagne and cake for them, more laughter for me. Anything to keep my mind off him.
************
"Hey Ave?" Alex says to me as I hug her goodbye. "I wanted to thank you for coming. I know things haven't been easy and all but-"
"Alex, you are my best friend. There is no possible way I could’ve missed this, " I reply, holding back the sadness emerging from the back of my mind. I take a deep breath. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”
“I wish you the same. And if there is anything I can do, please tell me.” I can hear the sadness in her voice.
Alex found out my secret two weeks before when I got refused my favorite drink during her bachelorette party. I begged her to not tell anyone, partly because it was her wedding, and as her friend, I did not want to steal the attention away from her. But mostly, I cannot face any more of the sad and worrying glances. Everything has happened too soon for me to handle more overwhelming condolences while I am still trying to piece my life back together.
Suddenly, as if on cue with my emotions, I become aware of the ring on my finger, the cold metal meeting the flesh of my skin. The hot but cold warmth seeping through my skin, shivering me to the core. I have the urge to fiddle with it, to cry and try to remember.
Soon, but not at this moment. I need to be right here, right now for Alex. Instead I squeeze her tighter and, when I pull back, I can see the sympathy deep in her eyes.
*********
Crouching down to the lower wooden cabinet in the basement, I open it to find a small, round vase for the bouquet.
I close the door and slide back across the floor to the staircase in my fuzzy socks, as a strand of dark hair falls from my once perfect bun into my face.
My legs muscles ache, and my mind feels spacey from dancing the night away as I climb the stairs, holding onto the railing as tightly as I can.
After filling the vase with water, I place the bouquet on my nightstand, the bright violet and cerulean blue forget-me-nots with their colorful green stems exploding out against the cream color paint of my bedroom. The edges of the white ribbon fray, the ends floating just above the surface of the water in the vase.
I sit down at the edge of my bed and look at them for a while.
I touch the tender petals, admiring their beauty.
So soft, so delicate.
So many memories.
Such a desire to want to remember everything, but at the same time hoping that it would not go that far. Though I promised myself to recognize and embrace my feelings, I am too exhausted to deal with it all right now in the heavy loneliness and sorrow of it all.
I turn out the light and crawl under the covers, hoping that some sleep will help shake away the memories.
************
THUMP.
I awake with a small jolt to the harsh sound, my hands instinctively wrapping around my stomach. Cautiously and still half asleep, I make my way over and pull back the curtain.
THUMP.
I pull back the burgundy curtains as the wind calms down and the tree branch swings back to its normal position. The full moon radiates the night sky, with beams casting a mysterious, but comforting glow upon the snow-covered ground. Twinkling stars in delight beside it, the constellations portrayed crystal clear against the vast darkness of the sky.
I hugged myself tightly, taking in deep breaths to calm my shaky breathing.
I take cautious steps as I make my way back to the bed, afraid I will pass out. I keep my eyes trained on the floor, fiddling my ring, and keeping my attention on the soft carpet. It takes all my willpower, but to no avail. Even in the dark, my eye catches the outline of the flowers in their vase and refuses to let go of its gaze.
The scent of sharp pine and the smell of earth after a rainstorm as I stepped into the clearing. My muscles ache after a long day of hiking through the state park and feel relieved as I sit down on the moss-covered log near a stream. He sits down next to me, placing his pack at his feet, and offering to take mine off as well. We pull out a light lunch of homemade sandwiches and juice boxes, sitting side by side on a red and white checkered blanket. We watched as the clouds traveled slowly above us, the sun playing hide and seek. The elm trees stood at attention surrounding the meadow, as birds chirped from inside its dwellings. The more we talk, the more I realized how he keeps trying to hide the nervous grin on his face. I ask him what was wrong, and then he launched into a botany lesson about the violet and blue forget-me-nots that sat nearby us. I found it odd, for I do not perceive him as having a clue as to the different species of flowers. I grew even more suspicious when he mentioned the words such as "eternal love" and "forever." Even as I dismissed these hints, the intention behind his nervousness became evident when he slightly kneeled and produced a small, black velvet box from his coat jacket.
A tear rolls down my cheek. I rub the diamond ring on my finger as if by some way I could bring him back to me. I even had the intention of giving it away, but no matter how hard I tried to convince myself it was for the better, I just could not. For it was as if my heart had already wrapped itself within the unspoken bond of love and could not, just could never let go. His last declaration of love for me, gone. And I have already lost so much.
I glance once more at the flowers, thinking only of him and his promise to me. How, like those flowers, he was going to love me every day, in good times and in bad. How he would never stop loving me after my hair grew gray or when the wrinkles begin to etch their way into my skin. How he would love me even if I were gone.
I took the vase from my nightstand and carried it with me down the stairs.
Emptying the water down the drain, I grab my thick black coat, wrap a red scarf around my neck and threw his old baseball hat on my head. After putting on snow boots, I walk outside into the icy air, my breath materializing before me instantaneously. I place the bouquet delicately in the passenger seat and start the car.
***********************************
The parking lot of the church stands empty, but that's typical for three a.m. on a Monday morning in the winter.
Everything is quiet.
No cars on the road, no whistle to the wind. The bare trees lifting their branches high in the sky, dusted lightly with powdery snow and icicles that reflect the overhead lights dotting the parking lot. The stars and the moon have shifted to the west as a streak of gray clouds stretch across the sky like a sea of fish.
Bracing for the cold, I head towards the church with the bouquet in hand. This is the place where yesterday I saw my best friend marry the man of her dreams.
Mine was supposed to be next month.
A forgotten flower decoration lay crumpled on the ground amidst the minuscule pieces of rice on the gray marble steps.
A tear escapes.
A dream that never came true.
I walk further on, my mind trying to convince myself to forget about this. That it's completely crazy to be doing something like this, especially when it's dark and cold. And especially when I am now more likely to get a cold.
But I must do it for him because he would have done the same for me.
The cemetery comes out from the darkness, illuminated by the orange streetlights lining a concrete path. Headstones of different shapes and sizes scatter the field under a blanket of freshly fallen snow.
I keep walking along the asphalt path, my eyes cast down at the ground with the bouquet feeling like a weight.
Until I find him under the skeleton of the cherry tree.
Tenderly, I kneel and dust the snow off with my bare hands to reveal the smooth gray marble underneath.
ADAM LANCASTER
Feb 18 1990 - Dec 21 2017
FOREVER WITH US
I sit next to the marker and lay my head on the side. The coldness of the stone jolts me awake even more and tightening my grip around the green stems of the bouquet.
Even so, I do not want to leave him.
I owe him so much.
For a while I just sit there, pretending that we're watching a cheesy movie on a snowy winter night on his couch with a blanket on top of us and the empty bowl of popcorn on the floor. I would laugh hysterically at the stupid jokes, and he would talk about the logistics of the movie and how it could never happen like that in real life. I'd roll my eyes and then fight him for the last bit of popcorn. A shaky laugh escapes me, my body feeling as if a thousand champagne bubbles released themselves in my heart.
A sharp wind brings me back to the present, reminding me of the unpleasant truth.
"Crazy, isn't it?" I announce to him.
As expected, I get no response back. Even so, I carry on.
"Alex and Tyler got married today, right here at the church. They're leaving for Europe today. Alex told us that they are going to tour the continent for about a week before coming home. After that, they are moving down the street from us." Well, me. I thought. “Fa-“
A sob makes its way up through my chest, and I try to clear my throat. "Father officiated the ceremony-then again who else would, am I right? I mean who else but the one man who has seen us all grow up, right?” A deep breath. I try to fight the tears. “It was a beautiful ceremony. And-and guess who caught the bouquet?"
The sadness that I had suppressed all day, finally came to the surface.
"I miss you I miss you above all things you-you are the only who I ever loved that came to me I had no idea I could love as deeply as I did you I mean I remember purposely flirting with you during school I-I would purposefully put myself out there in class because I kind of had a crush on you, but at the same time I was so happy to be single, and I wanted to just be friends and then well-"
A sob racks my body. This time instead of holding back, I let the tears streak down my hot cheeks and form into a snotty mess.
"Sorry," I sniff, wiping my face with a tissue I find stuffed in my pocket. "Although you’re probably very proud of me expressing my feelings rather than repressing them, right?” Another shaky breath. “This must be a real shocker for you, huh? To find out that I loved you all those years and yet even I didn't have a clue that I loved you so much until we started dating. It's crazy."
A whiff of wind blew against my cheeks, but instead of the cold winter brutality, it was soft and gentle.
I closed my eyes.
"I love you. Just as you love me. Forever and always."
I place the bouquet of flowers on the ground against the headstone, the stark white snow bleaching out the creamy color of the ribbon. I kiss his name and lay my head to it.
I do not recall how long I sat there, all I know is that it is long enough that my hands are starting to become numb and raw even under my gloves.
A yawn takes over me as I start to rise from the ground. As I turn to leave, my knees fall gently back down in front of him. I know what I need to do, hard as it might be.
I need to tell him my secret.
He, of all people, deserve to know.
I fumble for my wallet in my coat pocket and pull out a black and white photo of a picture of a sonogram. A small piece of film with a blurry but distinguishable gray form in the middle of the black outlining. Clutching my stomach, I tuck the photo into the bundle of flowers, my hands shaking.
I smile because I know he would smile too. And I cry some more, this time tears of joy because I know he would want me to be happy for what is to come.
With my eyes closed, I feel as if he is indeed here with me, smiling and crying with the joy of the future. I can see the way his smile reaches his eyes and the way they radiate the rest of his personality. I can feel the warmth of his arms around me in the cold, early hours of the morning-
"Adam?"
My eyes open quickly. I look around for him because for a split second he was holding me-physically holding me. The feelings of his tender touch linger on my arms even in this bitter cold.
I don’t know what or whom I expected to see, but no one except me was sitting in the cemetery.
With a bundle of blue and violet forget-me-nots lying on the snowy grave.