aroacephotographer

[aroacephotographer]

All of my best friends are terrific at the art that they do. I should grab some coffee and get to appreciating.

speaking from experience as a deranged freak commenter i promise, nay, guarantee, that the weirder and crazier you get about someones art the happier they will be. if a fic made you want to drag a characters mangled corpse twice around the walls of troy u should say so

[aroacephotographer]

legit the best advice i can give you: feed your friends

any time someone is in any kind of crisis or upheaval, offer to feed them. tell them they don’t have to choose what it is if they can’t make decisions, just ask about allergies and preferences and tell them you’re just gonna make food happen at their house.

friend having a baby? delivery gift certificate to order food to the hospital after the kid shows up.

someone’s relative passes away? offer to make them dinner.

buddy gets laid off? ask if you can order them lunch.

pal stuck in a depressive episode? offer to drive them to fucking mcdonalds, if that’s what they want.

people in crisis are tired and sad and angry and the last thing most of them are doing is thinking about feeding themselves. so if you have the ability or time or money, providing that is always, always a good move.

legit i do this all the time, and it is 100% always appreciated. i have taught all my friends that when something happens, we feed each other. it makes people feel extremely cared for, and I cannot recommend it enough.

[aroacephotographer]

*mafia don* ive got this whole freakin' city under my thumb. i can have any two men kissing each other in under 15 minutes

[aroacephotographer]

one of the more interesting gender selectors i've seen

[aroacephotographer]

If you are a writer, artist or other creative person and you are wondering if what you do still matters…

…this is a culture war. Which means that you are on the front line. You matter more than ever.

[aroacephotographer]

I sat down (in some cases texted) my best friends a while back and we had a Discussion™️ about this very topic.

Each of them took positively, though in very different ways. It was a spectrum of emotions because all of them have vastly different backgrounds.

A few I directly say I Love You. There are others that don’t do well with that phrase. And I’ve decided that, since I love differently, I should show this love for them in different ways.

Sometimes it’s gift-giving, often it’s including two heart emojis 💚💜 or the heart hands. But the message is clear to the people I love that there’s nothing romantic going on. It’s a really good friendship. I love and appreciate them all in my own way.

I hate social problems.

Why the fuck can't I tell my friends I love them?! Why can't I tell them I care?! WHY CAN'T I EVEN COMPLIMENT THEM?!

Because, apparently, anything I say that's nice to my friends is considered romantic.

FUCK ROMANCE! I WANT TO BE ABLE TO TELL MY FRIENDS HOW MUCH I LOVE THEM AND COMFORT THEM AND ALL THIS SHIT!

[aroacephotographer]

Dude heard this TikTok sound and wrote a whole movie moment around it

[aroacephotographer]

I first came out as Trans/Non-Binary around the time my parents were going through divorce.

My mom had this weird controlling need to tell me what to do. And one thing she did was get me to hate my dad.

A byproduct of this was that it taught me to hate masculinity. That it’s toxic. Period.

But I’m completely wrong in that thinking. It took me about ten years of holding on to this weird complicated emotion of “my dad sucks, therefore masculinity is terrible.” It’s a false equivalent.

During my current bout of burnout I’ve been learning to let go of a lot of things that both parents taught me and that I clung onto. And this idea of masculinity that I grew up with was consistently a bad example.

So why can’t I be a good example? I recently came out as agender, and I read as masculine to anybody who doesn’t know me. And I consider myself trans femme.

But I should allow myself to try being masculine. And on my own terms. I know several people who show masculinity in their own way (among other traits, because we’re human).

So I think it would only be fair to my past self to show me how to live as authentically as possible. I tend to emulate people, especially those that I’m good friends with. But I don’t want to do that in this case. I want to figure out how I can be masculine (as well as feminine) and live every day freely.

[aroacephotographer]

[aroacephotographer]

ghosta nova 👻🎸

(youtube)

[aroacephotographer]

ily, menswear guy

[aroacephotographer]

isn’t it weird to grow up and learn about aromanticism and then realize that all of your childhood crushes were most likely fake and just basically selected out of the best of the available options??

[aroacephotographer]

Sylveon sends love your way! 💗

Available as print! ✨

[aroacephotographer]

celebrating my 5 year top surgery anniversary today, so I wanted to draw something that reflects the bliss of feeling your chest for the first time. happy pride 🏳️‍⚧️⚧️💙🩷🤍

[aroacephotographer]

Candle Ritual

Written for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial theme, "Singing in the Candlelight"!

Word count: 996

She wanted everything just right. The record player had to be in the right spot. Though she got to choose the music – French Jazz, her favorite. The other ladies didn't care. They just wanted to talk. Once the candle was lit, she whispered to herself until the others joined her.

It was Halloween night, and the leaves had changed to the beautiful red and yellow colors. The wind blew them around and tornado patterns, chilling the evening air. The lights were out except for the candles on the dining table. The woman had on shawls and loose fitting clothes. After all, she was the only one who needed to keep warm tonight. She busied herself by placing empty bowls everywhere on the dining table. They would fill up soon for her guests.

Her mother arrived first. She was always chronically on time. Nervous she would miss some juicy piece of gossip.

"Monica, darling. How are you?" Her mother's opaque eyes filled with joy and glee.

"Busy but good," said Monica. That was always her answer. She dared not say more. Not until the others arrived.

Then her grandmother arrived, along with her aunts.

"The bus ride over was atrocious," said the aunt, a tall woman in Victorian garb. She had worked in a theater company and loved the bodices she created. So her wardrobe reflected that.

"Just be glad we're here, sweetie. Oh look! The food's already out. I thought you needed help," said the grandmother, who in another life was a housewife, so the kitchen was her domain. She was short and stout and had a back hump from leaning over the oven for days at a time. Her husband was dumb and stubborn but had a good sense of humor.

"We wouldn't be so late if the bus route was ever on time," the aunt said frantically. She huffed and sat down to daintily grab an apple. She gently chewed on it and stared at everyone else.

"Well, what'ya know?" said the grandmother. She plopped down into her chair and grabbed a bunch of pistachios from a bowl and started peeling them over a plate. She didn't eat them, she did this to keep her hands busy. She looked at Monica.

"Um, well…" she couldn't hide a smile from her face. "You see…"

"Your cheeks are rosy. Are you pregnant?" her aunt stiffened and had a shocked look on her gaunt face.

"Let the young lady speak, will you!" her mother interrupted her sister, with a giant smirk on her face. "You always jump to wildest conclusions."

"Sorry," said the aunt. She looked down at the table and folded her hands.

"Don't worry sweetie. We all do that. It's in the family. What'd you say it was Monica?"

"Family trait," she smiled widely. "When you talk about genetics, it's called a trait."

"Ah yes. One of those traits things," grandmother gleamed at aunt, who loosened up a bit. Mother giggled.

"Well, what's the good news?" mother inquired.

"I met someone," it was Monica's turn to stare at the table. Everyone looked directly at her.

"Oh?" all three women leaned in ever so slightly in tandem.

"I'm terrified to say more," Monica covered her face with her hands.

"I'm afraid that you'll all judge me."

"Honey, whatever you have to tell us is important. It's not like it's the end of the world," her mother put a hand on Monica's shoulder. Monica sobbed. She took a napkin from the table and wiped her face. The smile remained.

"A met a woman. She's in her thirties like I am. We met at a bar–" All three women stood up. Grandmother's chair scratched the floor. They walked over and hugged Monica in an embrace.

"I'm so happy that you've found happiness, sweetie," said grandmother.

"That's wonderful, dear," said mother.

"About damn time," said her aunt. "Men are the worst. Sounds like you finally listened to me." Grandmother gave the aunt a playful bat on the shoulder. All four women laughed.

"But where is she?" said mother.

"I haven't told her I'm a witch yet. One thing at a time," said Monica.

There was silence as all four women sat in the delight of the good news. The jazz music played on. Eventually it reached a song that grandmother had raised the other three women on. They didn't sing loudly. It was barely a whisper.

None of them actually knew the meaning behind the French. None of them had bothered learning what the song was about. Just that it was a unifying three and a half minutes.

"Well, we should probably catch the next bus back," said the aunt. She walked back to her seat and grabbed another apple.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" complained the grandmother. She gave a disapproving grimace for the first time that night. "We've got time."

"I've got a dress to finish for a play."

"We can catch up on the way out," mother left the embrace and joined the other two ladies.

Monica had streaks of tears rolling down her face. She had a shaky smile forming as she looked up at them as they became opaque again.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'll be back to visit soon," said the grandmother.

"And make sure to bring your girlfriend next time!" said her mother.

"Does she work in the theater?" asked her aunt.

The three ladies started flickering. The candle had burned nearly to the bottom. The moon shone through, as if reminding her that the time had flown by but it was time to end the ritual.

"I'll let her tell you next time," she looked down at the candle. "Thank you for joining me." She blew out the candle.

The smiles were the last to disappear. It was a nearly cloudless night on Halloween when the veil between the living and the dead was lifted. She loved seeing them every year. Maybe she would finally bring her girlfriend next time.

[aroacephotographer]

Roll for initiative.

Can I be a creature in a post?

You can certainly try

[aroacephotographer]

btw its okay to identify as non binary and not trans. it's okay to identify as genderqueer, gender non conforming, gender variant, intersex, or genderfuck and not be trans. these things can exist inside of a cis - trans spectrum or outside of it, it's up to you. you do not have to be trans to stand outside of our cisheteronormative gender binary