i had to do the rainbow letters

Can I just say that the older I get the easier it is to come out to people? Like when I came out to some of my friends in early high school I was crying and when I told my parents I had to write them a letter because I couldn’t do it face to face.

I came out to my college roommate cuz we were at Walmart and I picked up the Rainbow Goldfish Crackers and said “Y'know as a kid I never understood why I liked these so much, but now I do.”

anonymous asked:

Every time I see a "happy pride month to...." and they list a bunch of identities but not aces, or someone makes a bunch of icons with flags but don't include an ace icon, i wonder if it's an accident and they forgot or it's on purpose and if they don't consider aces as lgbt....

the struggle

I try to assume the best, because I was taught to enter queer spaces with good faith but that gut feeling of are you willfully excluding me is still around. 

I normally base my end decision on the matter how out of the way they go to include letters beyond LGBTQ. LGBT, LGBT+, LGBTQ+ as well as rainbow, bi and trans flags I feel like they simply had to cut the line somewhere. I get it, I use just LGBT at times too.

Assholes generally go out of the way to make sure they don’t include aces so non-stand letter combinations will do it. And if you aren’t sure what is or isn’t commonly accepted, you can google it and see. 

Fat Fingers part 1: Coffee

Note: I know that I am not that active and I am really sorry about that. I post more regularly on my main account, @hamiltontrashfam, if you’d like something more regular. Also, it will probably be a couple of days before part 2 of this is out, sorry. :/

Word count: 2302

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: A bit of swearing, I guess. Do not read if you are a Trump supporter.

Originally posted by jayvoom

You had openly been supporting Bernie Sanders since the election began. But, when Hillary turned out to be the candidate for the Democrats, you felt that you had no other choice than to vote for her, as you never wanted Donald Trump near the presidency. You had often discussed this with your parents, as they were unable to understand, how you could possibly hate Donald Trump that much. You never really felt like any of them understood you. And unlike you, they wanted the country to be run by a Republican again and whether that was Trump or someone else, they did not care at all. And because of your family’s opinion on politics and your lack of social interactions throughout your childhood and teen years, you did not have a lot of friends who agreed with you either and you felt very alone.

The only distraction from the fact that you had no one’s accept or understanding of your political views, were the celebrities and online friends who felt the same way about Trump as you did. You never actually expected to meet anyone who felt the same as you and befriending them, because your family had gained quite the reputation after taking action in several demonstration that were against woman’s rights and especially against rights for people of colour and queer people. You thought that no one could possibly feel that your views were any different from your family’s. You found comfort in music, especially tracks against the Donald, like the song Fat Fingers by the California based experimental hip hop group clipping.

You had just picked up your morning coffee from the small coffee shop on the corner of your street in downtown Sacramento and were on your way to work. You walked down the street with music in your ears while you sipped from your coffee. You had to look up when a police car passed by quickly on the street, with the deafening siren and the constant flashing of the red and blue lights on. You were unfocused for a short moment, which made you crash straight into someone’s built chest, spilling your coffee all over the guy in front of you and knocking your headphones out in the process. It took a moment for you to gather what had just happened and when you did, you really could not help the embarrassed blush that spread across your cheeks. “Oh, God. I am so sorry. I should have watched out. Are you okay?” You rambled. You did not dare to look at the person in front of you and instead you stared straight at the grey pavement, feeling really embarrassed about spilling your coffee on a stranger.

“Shit. It’s okay, man.” You heard a very familiar voice answer softly. Your head snapped back up to look at the person in front of you and your mouth hang open slightly at the person in front of you. You knew who this was. Very well, actually. As a matter of fact, you were just listening to one of their songs on your phone. It was Daveed Diggs. Fucking Daveed Diggs. You had just spilled your coffee all over a man that you had developed somewhat of a celebrity crush on since you discovered clipping. when the election started.

Your mouth went dry as a desert for a second and you sort of forgot how to even function. You swallowed and took a moment to gather your thoughts before you answered. “I am so, so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin your shirt Mr. Diggs.” You answered, unable to stop yourself from mentioning his name and your eyes grew wide with the realisation. You had just mentioned his name. Not creepy at all.

“Oh. You have an advantage, I see. You don’t strike me like a musical kid. So, how do you even know who I am?” He asked curiously.

While it was true that you were not much of a musical kid, you still knew what he was referring to. Practically every person who was the slightest amount of clipping. fan, knew that he had been a member of the cast on the hit musical Hamilton. You had not listened to much of it, but you actually sort of liked the small bits that you had listened to.

“I hate Trump.” You blurted. You felt another blush spread across your cheeks, as it did not offer much of a explanation as to how you knew who he was. “I mean…. I listened to Fat Fingers and I agreed with a lot of it and after that I sort of just became a fan of clipping.” You added with a nervous chuckle, trying to explain how you knew who he was in a way that actually made sense. At least more than your first explanation did.

“Oh. Me too.” He answered with a soft smile. You were very much aware that he did not like Trump and the fact that you had a lot of the same views as him made you really happy, because you thought that he was a pretty amazing human being and if you shared a lot of views, that made you a pretty decent one too, right?

“You don’t really strike me as much of a hiphop fan, though?” He asked with an arched eyebrow.

It made you chuckle softly. “Yeah, no. I know….My family is very conservative.” You admitted with a soft sigh. You then realised for the second time during the last couple of minutes that you had indeed spilled all of your coffee over him. You were actually about to offer him a new shirt, because there was no way in hell he was getting the coffee stain of off it. However, it seemed like he beat you to it.

“I see…. I am fine, by the way. It was an accident and just as much my fault as yours. How about I buy you a new cup of coffee?” He asked. You were actually sort of surprised that he thought that this was his fault too. You were the one focusing on the police car that drove by after all.

You chewed on your lower lip lightly, not really able to make up your mind. On one hand, you had to get to work. But, you always showed up really early anyway and what could it hurt to let him buy you a cup of coffee? On the other hand; If your family figured it out in anyway, they would probably murder you. You looked at him thoughtfully. “I…. I don’t know.” You answered honestly and lowered your gaze.

“Oh… I see. Is it because of your family?” He asked, hitting the nail right on the head.

You nodded. “Yeah.” It was indeed about your family. Of course it was. It always was. They were always the once that fucked up everything for you. If they ever figured out that you had let a clearly democratic, black rapper buy you coffee, they definitely would not let you in their house ever again. You had discussed this with your parents several times. They even tried to send you to an all- white high school. However, that definitely did not work out.

He looked at you thoughtfully, before a soft sigh escaped his lips. “Right. Okay… No coffee then.” He answered. You felt really bad for disappointing him, but you had to think about your relationship with your family after all. “Can I at least have your name?” He asked. It was a pretty simple request, but you still found yourself wondering whether you should tell him or not. Not because you did not want him to know. But, if he figured out just how racist, homophobic and close minded your family was, he probably would regret offering to buy you coffee.

“I am…-” You were about to answer, when of your dad’s friend, Garrett pulled up beside you in his car. It felt like you were stuck in the middle of some terrible movie scene. Everyone who knew your family, knew who Daveed was, because you were unable to shut up about him when with your parents and they had obviously told their friends and no one approved of what they called your unhealthy obsession.

“Y/N? What a coincidence! What is a nice girl like you doing talking to a stranger like him?” Garrett asked through the window that he had just rolled down. You felt like a deer in the headlights in a way.  He could have just meant, that you were talking to a stranger and that was it, but you knew Garrett and that was definitely a racist remark. The sticker on his windshield of his car, a man resembling the confederate flag kicking another man resembling the rainbow flag with the lettering ‘Trump 2016’ made it very clear where this guy stood politically.

“Garrett. I um. I accidentally spilled my coffee on this nice young man’s shirt.” You shot back. You were already caught talking to someone you apparently should not and you knew that you were already screwed, so you might as well defend Daveed.

“Nice? Okay. Aren’t you late for work young lady? I can drop you off at the office, if you’d like.” The thing about dropping you off at the office might have sounded like an offer, but that was definitely not the case. You knew that you had to obey, because otherwise you would get even more shit from your family and that you definitely did not want.

“I am really sorry about this asshole, Daveed. I am Y/N. I hope that I get to take you up on that coffee some day.” You finally decided to say, though not loud enough for Garrett to actually hear. While you hated the guy, you definitely did not want to get on his bad side. He could make your life hell after all and you really do not have any intention of letting him do so.

“I should go.” Daveed answered, obviously completely disgusted. You had thought that it had been with you at the time, even if it had not. You had no chance to say anything, before he left and you could feel your mood fall even more. Another thing your family had managed to fuck up, again.  Your gaze followed him shortly, before you got into Garrett’s car hesitantly, as he had told you to.

You knew that he was about to comment on what had just happened, so you simply held your hand up to cut him off. “Just go, Garrett.” You sighed. You did not want to hear any of his disapproving and racist comments. You just wanted to get away from him as fast as possible.

On your way to the office, you passed Daveed in his coffee soaked Oakland hoodie and you felt really bad for not being able to make it up to him. You could practically feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes. Your family always managed to fuck up your every attempt to meet someone who had the same views as you. It was like they followed you day and night to make sure that you felt isolated and alone.

Once the car came to a stop outside your office, you did not even bother to thank Garrett for dropping you off, because he honestly did not do you a favour at all. You did not say goodbye either, instead you just left without a word. You knew that you had to make it up to Daveed somehow, you just had no idea how. It was not like you knew him at all. But, you felt like you had to apologize on behalf of your racist, homofobic, Trump supporting family, even if it really had nothing to do with you.

You spent the rest of the day knee deep in work, yet your mind kept wondering back to your run-in with Daveed earlier that day. It was on your mind pretty much all the time, inevitably distracting you from your work. You just felt so bad. Now that you had finally met someone who shared your views, you had to fuck it up. Not really you, but your family, but you somehow got into your head, that it was you who Daveed was mad at and not the racist asshole who had picked you up after you spilled your coffee all over him.

Nearing the end of your shift, you were feeling even more defeated than when you arrived. You wanted badly to contact Daveed somehow, but you thought that it was perhaps not th smartest idea after the incident earlier. You sat there, your head pounding from all the thinking you had done during the day and perhaps from your lack of morning coffee, when someone placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Miss Y/LN. I have noticed that you have been very distant today. Are you alright?” Your boss asked.

You knew that he did not care at all, but you nodded half heartedly. “Yes, I am quite alright, sir.” You managed as you gathered your things to leave. You were really not okay though, but you managed to hide it pretty well.

“Well, I want you to focus tomorrow, okay? We have an important meeting coming up.” He said sharply. You knew that you had fucked up today, both with Daveed and your job. But, luckily you could actually do something about the later.

“Of course.” You simply stated, as you got up from your office chair, stretching lightly from sitting down during most of the day. Then, you left without another word, just wanting to go home and go to bed early to forget everything about what had just happened.

Letters To The Chosen One Chapter Two

Warnings: slight angst I guess

Word count: 840

Click here for chapter one



My eyes scanned the letter over and over. The only person who has access to my room that also wants to kill me is Baz. He has wanted to kill me from the moment we met. This is our last year sharing a room. So, of course, he would want to do it now, while it’s still easy. Once we graduate, we will no longer share a room. He won’t have simple access to me.

But, why he would leave a letter? I don’t understand. All he is doing is striking suspicion. He’s giving me a warning. I always thought he was smarter than that. He’s given me the chance to prepare myself, to fight back. Maybe that’s part of his plan. Maybe he wants me to think I’m prepared. He’s setting me up to be ready in two weeks. He probably plans to strike sooner. When I’m least expecting it. I study the letter once more and scoff. He thinks he’s so prestigious by using words like ‘succumb’ and ‘mortality.’

The door to our room swings open and I lift my head. Baz walks in, flipping on the light switch. Brightness fills the room, and I glare at him. He looks like he just got back from football practice. He’s sweaty and wearing the team uniform. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, with loose strands falling into his face. He sneers.

“What’s your problem?” He drops his bag onto the floor next to his bed. I jump up and shove the paper at his chest. He gives me a bored look and takes it.

“You know what my problem is,” I snap. He’s such an arse, acting like he did nothing wrong. Like he didn’t just write me a death threat. Baz looks down at the paper and then back up at me.

“ A piece of paper? That’s what you’re so bloody upset over,” his voice is condescending and he raises an eyebrow.

“Not the paper. What you wrote on the paper. Stop acting innocent,” I just want to punch his stupid face. But, I hold back. Anathema. My magic is boiling inside of me. My palms are sweating. Why does he have to be like this? Why can’t he just admit he wrote it? Baz looks down and scans the short letter. He manages to hide any reaction he may have had.

“I wish I wrote that. But, no. It wasn’t me,” he shakes his head. “It looks like another person wants you dead. Why are you even surprised?” He rolls his eyes. I need to leave, now. Before I do something that will get me kicked out of Watford.

“What is the point, Baz? Why are you trying to cover this up? You are the only person at Watford that hates me enough to kill me,” I shout. Baz shakes his head again.

“Seriously, Snow. It wasn’t me,” he glances back down at the paper. “I’m offended that you even think I would leave a letter. I’m not that idiotic. That’s like me just shouting out to the world ‘Hey! I killed Simon Snow!’ It’s the most evidence a detective would need. I’d be arrested on the spot. But, that very clearly is not my handwriting. My lettering is much neater”

He’s acting like he knows everything. Like he’s too good for even a piece of paper. But, I had been thinking the same exact things. Now I know for sure that it’s all part of some plot. I bet he even changed his handwriting for the letter. I roll my eyes and shove past, purposefully bumping him with my shoulder. I storm out of our room and down the twisting staircase. My skin is burning with magic. I can taste the hot smoke. If I don’t do something now, I’m going to go off. I head outside, into the cool air, and take a deep breath.

It’s okay if he doesn’t admit it. I still know well enough to be ready whenever he’s around.

The fresh air is already working. My skin is cooling off and my chest feels less tight. I continue further out onto the lawn and sit under the yew tree. I close my eyes and think of ways to stay cautious. I can’t give up sleeping, can I? I would tell the Mage. But, he’s not around.

I’ll talk to Penny about it tomorrow, I decide. I consider sleeping out here. But, the ground is far from comfortable. I should be fine in our room. As long as the anathema works in my favor. I stay outside until I can trust that I won’t go off at the sight of Baz.

I stand up and head back to Mummers House.

When I get back to our room, Baz isn’t there. He’s probably in the catacombs, doing potential vampire things. I slip into bed for the second time tonight. I check under my pillow. Nothing. I let out the breath that I had been holding and quickly fall asleep.


Tagged: @ailecstuff

anonymous asked:

Dear miss Yaya, I apologize for writing once more, but I am curious. I serve for my people as a soldier, my life was sworn in service of others... Yet I am finding it hard for me to take pride in this. Whatever point the war had in the beginning, all I feel now is the hatred from both sides and I... I don't wish to hate. I have considered attempting to desert, yet... If I do so, I cannot return home and I would carry the guilt my entire life. Humbly, Tired.

Dear Tired,

When Yayaha passed this letter onto me, I was confused and intrigued. At first I had thought she was playing a joke on me until I read it myself. Now I understand why. Yours is a path I’ve trodden down before, and after constantly re-writing this letter, I find it difficult to color my tone with sunshine and rainbows. There are hard truths to be faced here, and the decisions made will mean life or death for many, including yourself.

You don’t wish to feel hate- this I can understand. It feels like a poison coursing through your veins and blackening your heart. But much like joy, fear, and sadness, it is one of the inevitable driving forces of our existence. And for all the bad it brings, it is one of our most versatile tools at our disposal when utilized correctly. This is one of the first things I learned in my youth when I first recieved my soul crystal. Hatred can overpower one’s ability to reason and cause widespread, wanton destruction if left unchecked. However, when wrangled under control, it grants us the power to defy death and trudge on long after our bodies have given up. Our hatreds are a defense mechanism, protecting us from that which we defy with all of our being. It is something you will never truly be able to escape, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn to coexist with the beast within.

But hatred is not the sole reason why you seek an escape from your current situation. You say you no longer feel pride in protecting and serving others. That cannot be true, or at least, I do not believe you have become numb to saving another from an untimely demise. But it does sound like you’ve lost sight of why you’re doing all this in the first place. No man is born with the instinctual desire to fight in war for war’s own sake. For me, it was the desire to free my homeland from Garlean occupation so that we may wipe the slate clean and start anew. To protect my family and thousands weaker than myself so that they may go on use their own unique, Twelve-given talents to hopefully create a world without war someday. Why did you pick up the blade? You say you cannot return home if you abandon your fight, does that mean you have family waiting for you? Friends with whom you wish to defend? A lover whom you wish to grow old with? Perhaps something else entirely?

I think before you do anything, you must rediscover the spark in your heart that lead you to this path in the first place. If you can ignite the fire once more, fantastic! I am eager to fight alongside you. But if you dig around and can find nothing driving you to keep going on the frontlines…then perhaps it is time you rest. No one should be forced to fight for the sake of fighting. That’s how you lose your own war- the war with your inner beast. Everyone deserves a chance to take a breather and center themselves now and again. And while it may be difficult to reconcile with the guilt inside your heart, know that you are but one man or woman. More will rise to the occasion. You have protected them for so long up until this point, it is only fair that they return the favor.

Besides, perhaps you don’t need to return home after all. There are ways to help and defend others without succumbing to the hells of war. I hear adventurers are a hot commodity nowadays…




They did everything they could to make it impossible to see the filming here. They build the busstop at Byng Placeand first filmed with a drone (getting some food at the fish and chips and then chatting and discussing a letter with the LiR) and then it was the same scene in different close-ups. We were maybe a 50m away behind a barricade.

The guy with the rainbow flag just passed by. I thought it was funny ;) He had nothing to do with the filming.

You can click here for my setlock pics.

That’s just a quick summary of my One Direction concert, maybe I’ll make a longer one tomorrow, but rn I’m buzzing with happiness :)
• the Macarena thing didn’t quite work in the standing area
• my sister and I had a sign with “you make me strong” written on it and the strong was written in big rainbow letters
• Louis looked at it and gave us a thumb up later
• Louis looked us, I almost cried happy tears
• Louis is sooo beautiful
• why did Liam wear a farmer’s hat?
• Harry put his hair in a bun, do I need to say more?
• Harry is also like a baby deer and jumps around a lot
• there was some cute nouis stuff
• Louis and Harry are aware of each other ALL THE TIME
• there was an American single mom behind me and she was complaining a lot first, but later she had more fun than her daughter
• there was a pride flag put up next to us by a security guy but later it fell off again
•rainbow bondage bear was there too
• at first I was kinda disappointed that I didn’t see many rainbow stuff but later on I saw many people holding up pride flags and rainbow signs
• they didn’t play No Contro, but people were requesting it
• they put lots of ketchup in the hotdogs
• thanks to all the rainbow directioners I met, it made me so happy but I really couldn’t talk anymore and tell you and I’m sorry for being so sweaty

How I got into Calligraphy

Quite a lot of people have asked me recently how I got into calligraphy. It is a bittersweet story. It is certainly not all rainbows and unicorns. I tell the story simply because it might actually be of benefit to someone out there to hear it.

I have loved letters for a long time. I was designing experimental digital typefaces in art college in the mid ‘90s and went on to work as a corporate type designer for nine years, designing custom typefaces for big companies, often banks and airlines. I had always appreciated traditional calligraphy but the received wisdom was you had to do it for ten years to become really good at it. I was very driven to achieve things in digital type design and digital lettering, so I didn’t feel that committing to huge new learning curves and traditional tools would be a good idea. I felt it would be detrimental to my personal progress and career.

In early 2011 it felt like my career was about to really take off. I was working on a front cover for Creative Review, which any graphic designer reading will know is a pretty big deal. I was also working on a very big project for Nike and lined up to be speaking in Australia at a Semi-Permanent Design Conference later that year.

Then, out of the blue, my partner Pamela was suddenly diagnosed with advanced bowel cancer. This was a big shock to both of us and it turned our world upside down overnight. Pamela went from having what we thought was bad IBS to suddenly being lined up for a major emergency operation in three days. I had to walk away from all of those projects and ended up being a full time carer for 18 months. There was nothing heroic about it, my partner has no family for support and clearly needed my fullest care and attention. She went on to have four major operations and spend over three months in hospital, including a couple of weeks in intensive care. Without going into detail there were lots of serious complications and difficulties along the way. It was by any standards an incredibly tough experience for both of us.

There was no way I could do client work during this period. I could hardly switch on my computer, but what I could do was find time to doodle in sketchbooks sporadically. As Pamela’s condition slowly stabilised I was able to spend longer periods of time writing and trying out different pens and ideas. Calligraphy was the only creative outlet I had at this point. Playing with words and letters became a very absorbing escapism, respite from what was a very dark period in our lives. I had occasionally dabbled with calligraphy pens before, but I don’t think I would ever have found the time to learn calligraphy any other way.

Today Pamela is in remission and healthy, fingers crossed. My career is back on track. Life is pretty good at the moment. For now the sun shines again. I learned that you can get through really tough times if you hang in there. To quote Winston Churchill “If you’re going through Hell, keep going”. I learned doctors are fallible and make very bad mistakes, so be a nuisance if you have concerns about a diagnosis. It reminded me that life is short at the best of times. A fragile, fleeting experience that no one should take for granted. I try to make more time for projects that really matter to me now. I work very hard, but I also have a greater appreciation of the good people and good things around me.

The experience brought Pamela and I closer together. I also came out of it being able to write some pretty fancy letters with a pen. Against the odds the experience actually ended up making me a better designer and artist, perhaps even a better person. Whatever the future holds that will always be a beautiful thing.

I received this lovely package in the mail a few months ago that I haven’t had the chance to post until now (bec I’m terrible at keeping up w/ things). It’s based from an old lettering piece of mine recreated into this fine piece of work by the talented @erinmcmom. I don’t have enough words to express how amazed and flattered I am with this. Embroidery is one of those things that I will never have the patience for, so for someone to dedicate so much of their time and effort to do this fills my heart with rainbows. Thank you so much, Erin! You all need to check out more of her work because they’re super awesome.

so i was in dunkin today and the cashier who usually makes my coffee pointed at my lanyard (it says LEGALIZE in rainbow letters) and said “when are you gonna stop being like that? you know what i mean…” and i was like “what? you mean…not straight? probably for the rest of my life.” and he like, hes like “Do you even wanna give men a chance?” and i told him I’d had boyfriends in the past, but all in all i really don’t like men In General and it’s not actually all that common that i wanna do guys and that i very very strongly prefer girls and he was like “well what about giving /me/ a chance?” and i was like


you don’t even know my name… well, he probably does since he’s swiped my debit card on the register, but that’s not the point. but since when is it okay to just push yourself on people like that unsolicited? I told him that i’m kinda p much emotionally committed to a Girl Right Now and he shook his head and said “You’re too pretty to be that selfish.” and I just was like ????? ??? ?? uh. 

And then as I walked out he was like “Being with men is what you’re /made/ for!!!” just

no. nooooo no no no.