Christian Bellmore
Bio
they/them
Linktree: https://linktr.ee/wish_ful_thinking
Stories (13/0)
History of the Aromantic and Queerplatonic Flags
Alright, I meant to write this back in February for Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week, but I never actually ended up doing that because of, y’know, life. So here I am, half a year later with the history of the aromantic flag and the queerplatonic flag!
By Christian Bellmore2 years ago in Pride
History of the Asexual Flag
Recently I did an art history project on aspec art, and a lot of it involved the origins of the flags. And since I’m desperate for aspec content (and also I put too much effort into this paper for only my professor to see), I decided I’ll share my research!
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Pride
Under the Pear Tree
When I was a child, there was a pear tree in the backyard. It was my dad’s pride and joy—it was big and beautiful and gave us a little extra cash when he’d sell the fruit at the farmer’s market. If the weather permitted, I’d sit under it and read, enveloped in my own little world. Until one of the neighborhood boys would try picking a fight, but I was a good child up to that point.
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Fiction
Waiting at the Light
I stop at the red light. It’s the early hours of the morning, before the sun has risen. I’m not sure why I’m up right now. Lot on my mind, couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go for a drive. When I first got in the car, I turned the radio on, but after a while I turned it off again. All of it just sounded wrong, and I found myself unable to enjoy it or tune it out. So, I’m just sitting in silence, waiting for the light to change.
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Fiction
Ghost Story
Poppy waited in the cemetery until nightfall—there was nothing else they could really do. While they didn’t particularly mind being a ghost, it was getting boring fast. According to Blair, spirits usually weren’t powerful enough to interact with the living outside of midnight in their first few weeks of death. And he would know, of course—he was the local ghost hunter, after all. Poppy didn’t even believe in ghosts until they were one.
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Fiction
Brown Paper Box
I stared down at the brown paper box sitting on the kitchen table. I had been living in the forest for sometime now—I had lost track of how long exactly, but I’m guessing it had been a decade or two at least. I had lost all contact with the outside world at this point.
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Fiction
Azith
Everyone stared at him as he entered the tavern, but he didn’t pay any mind. Eyes tend to follow him wherever he went, so of course this place wouldn’t be any different. The stench of alcohol hit him as he weaved in between the tables, getting stronger as he reached the counter.
By Christian Bellmore3 years ago in Fiction