Hey, can someone who knows their way around an image editing program please modify an image from Space Invaders to be the colors of the asexual pride flag and change the name to Ace Invaders because we are so damn dangerous and clearly don’t belong in LGBT+ areas and we just love “invading safe spaces”. I may make the design into a shirt and wear it always just so people don’t mistake me for something I’m not.
I did the thing
I read that as change it to the asexual pirate flag instead of pride flag
GRAPHICS PEEPS, CAN WE GET AN ACE PIRATE FLAG, TOO?
A common ask we get is where can I get an ace ring? Where can I get one without my parents knowing? Well I found these at Walmart for really cheap! They also had white ones but I didn’t have time to take a photo of it. (Sorry!) If you need cover you can get a set that has school colors, sports colors, or maybe your just fav color. Happy shopping!
“protect heteroromantic aces” lmao from what? the sharknado?
from corrective rape? from mothers who are open and accepting of gay, bi, pan, etc people and still unknowingly tell their asexual children that people who don’t want sex are sick need help? from their closest friends at birthday parties starting conversations about how weird and fake asexuality is? from the fear of being alone forever because no one could want to be with someone like them? from going against sexual and relationship norms in a society that tells them they’re broken and wrong?? from people like you who delegitimize their struggles in the eyes of much of lgbt+ community, some of the only people who you’d think might understand
I had to reblog this twice bc you just got 100% fucking destroyed my dude
asexual enjolras still feeling the Tension between him and grantaire but it manifests in wanting to Spoon Him so fucking hard that very second oh my god
he just makes him so angry and he needs a back rub from him right fucking now
Here is to the ones who are aroace (on the aromantic and asexual spectrums) that feel more connected to being aro than ace…
It can be difficult at times to see aromantic identity in general being swept aside but I am here to say as a fellow aromantic and asexual person that it is great being aromantic!
To everyone else: let’s include aromantic more in discussions about romantic attraction identities and how a person can gravitate more towards being aromantic than asexual.
I made some aro ace wallpapers because I hadn’t seen any before! Make sure to enlarge them because you can’t see the details otherwise. Feel free to use them for whatever, sorry if the colors aren’t perfect.
She is founded on softer things, pink and cream and sugar and silk, pastel fragility steeped in a tender, sun-striped melancholy. She is founded on love – every type of love, all of its variations spun together like lace, woven in the manner of the complex flute melodies that she so adores. She wishes that she could play the flute, and she has tried to learn a few times, though the nuances of it always slip from her mind, in the end. Her delicate fingers are better suited to tracing pipes and braiding hair, in any case, than to any rougher task; she is crafted as carefully as the breath of a rainbow, and it is there, in her shivering opalescent colors, that her strength resides.
Tholomyes, of course, draws more from her – and she does not hate him for it, though it hurts a little and the fleeting trembles of pleasure don’t quite redeem the unpleasant twists in her stomach. He asks her again and again with his smooth rich word, and she grows to accept the faintly sick chill that enclasps her whenever she detects that certain glint in his eye.
“You do not love him!” Zephine exclaims one day with a hand across her parted lips. The four of them sit with their legs long across the grassy slope of a hill in a park, flowers scattered around them, eager light dancing behind all of their eyes.
“Oh, but I do – it is only the action that I rather… well, it’s no better with him than it would be with any other man, that is all. The pleasure is fine enough, but – oh, this talk is not proper. Must we dwell upon it?”
And the topic is washed away with laughter and sunlight and sweet spring scent. Fantine is content. And later, when she begins to feel a deeper twist and stir in her belly, she is touched with relief. It is worth it, she thinks as soon as she knows. It is worth it, when she can’t breathe through the hurricane of tears that comes with his departure. It is worth it when she holds the child, kisses the cloud-and-cream softness of her daughter’s forehead for the first time.
It is worth it, in an alley populated by two dirty girls and their flame-haired mother.
It is worth it, with locks of shorn golden hair painting the dirty ground.
It is worth it, a dull ache spreading through her iron-stained mouth until she can feel naught else.
It is worth it – on the sailors’ beds, against alley walls, drowning in snow heaps. It is worth it, even in the end, cradled in sheets and doused with the calm of the hospital that she will never depart. Because Cosette is alive, and Fantine has made it that way, and surely there is no purer act of love in the whole of the world.
¯_( ಠ_ಠ)_/¯ 