rainbows are my friend

the happiest person i ever met was named laura. she was in her twenties and lived in chicago. she worked in a restaurant with my aunt. she had messy hair, diluted colors of all the rainbow. she had sequins and glitter glued to her green cat eye glasses. she loved trees. she rode a bike, and her helmet was covered in stickers. she loved dinosaurs, and her apartment was filled with dinosaur string lights and stickers of gay robots. her and her friend dyed my hair rainbow in her kitchen. she brought me out to see all her favorite street art. my favorite thing about her was that she always carried bubbles around with her, she told me she liked to blow bubbles because it was like she was spreading happiness. i havent seen her in years, and i dont know where she is, but i hope she’s still as happy, and i hope i can be that happy one day too.

9

Update Again!

Pride Bees Post 1

Row 1 - transgender pride, asexual pride, bisexual pride
Row 2 - rainbow/gay pride, lipstick lesbian pride, lesbian pride
Row 3 - pansexual pride, genderfluid pride, non-binary pride

Pride Bees Post 2—-> here.

The bee with the axe is based on one of the lesbian pride flag designs.  Yes, sometimes TERFs use this flag design, but I have also gotten many messages from lesbians that use the flag and are not TERFs. More about that —->  here.

—————————————————————–

op:I have no idea if anyone feels the need for more pride flag colored bees, but here is a few more.

UPDATE: i guess there was a need so MORE BEES.

The explanation for Damien being able to summon lightning and thunder and mysterious winds that creepily open and shut doors is that trans people can actually control the weather

This is a fact that not many cis people know, but it’s True and I’m glad they represented it in game

how sad to be a gay girl in this the year of our lord 2017. i’ve never been to pride before. i tell my mother i’m thinking of going and she says; please be smart and stay home. most of me thinks she’s right about this, even though i live in a city where gay pride flags fly on every other building.

they’ve done a good job scaring us into the corners we came out of. i tremble at the idea of crowds full of other people, my body in rainbow paint. i will be meeting friends from high school and none of them know i’m gay. it terrifies me. i have no idea what they’d say. what if they ignore it. what if they make a big deal about it. what if they ask me how long i’ve been this way.

straight people tell me all the time that maybe it used to be dangerous to be in love with a girl, but i should stop complaining because marriage is legal. i think of how i still hear “gay” used as a slur, how every word i have for myself has been used as a curse word against me, how i have no identity that comes unsullied. i think of how every time i hold her hand in public i find my ears become satellite dishes, waiting to pick up on any incoming danger, always mid-flinch. i think about how their opinion of me changes when i tell them. i think about the cans thrown and the threats made and the fights that bloodied my teeth. i think about the arguments with my parents and the silence in churches and the shuffling of embarrassed feet. 

i’m telling myself i’ll go to pride and i’ll smile and i’ll have a good time. i’m telling myself i’ll be strong for those who can’t be. i’m telling myself thank god it’s 2017 and i live in the united states in a commonwealth that protects me. but the fact i have to rally just to walk in the streets says something. i feel sick when i think about where i’m going but proud about what i’m doing.

the closet was the worst place, i whisper to myself. darkness and spiders. but the closet is the safer place. and sometimes that matters.

“can we, like, chill with the gay pride?” i hear a girl on the bus say to her friend, “like… every june this happens and i’m tired of it.”

i’m gay every day of the week, even when i’m not proud of it. 

i sit lower in my seat. i text the people i’m going to pride with. “i might come,” i write, “still working on it.”

Where Simon is obsessed with vampire puns
  • Simon: Hey Baz, what did the vampire order at the bar?
  • Baz: Please no. Don't tell me.
  • Simon: A Bloody Mary
  • Baz: Mercy
  • Simon: TBH I have to stop, my vampire puns really suck
  • Baz: *starts crying*
Frosting

It’s my birthday so I wrote a birthday fic


Baz

When I wake up, the bed next to me is empty, but I don’t worry.  I can hear bumping in the kitchen and the sheets where he slept are still warm. I’m not ready to move yet, but I breathe in deeply and the pillow smells like him, bright and sweet and sleepy. There’s really no reason for him to keep two pillows on his bed, when I spend the night we end up entwined so close that our heads share the same one.  My bones ache to stretch out but I don’t budge.  I can still feel the ghost of his arms, of his breath on my neck.  If I move I might break the spell.

           Pathetic, I think to myself.  We’ve been dating for months and still not a day goes by that I don’t think it must be a dream, it’s too good to be true.

           The door swings open slowly with one soft creak, and my eyes have drifted closed again but I don’t bother to open them. His bare feet tiptoe across the room, there’s a clink as he sets something down on the bedside table (a glass of water, maybe) and he climbs back into bed, careful not to disturb me, slotting himself in the crook of my neck as though neither of us had ever moved. He gives a sleepy sigh as he settles into place, and the sound alone makes me smile despite myself.

           I decide I’ve been unresponsive long enough and press a kiss to his forehead.

           He chuckles quietly.  “Are you awake or having a really nice dream?”

           “You tell me.”

           “Morning, Baz.”

           “Morning, Simon.”

           I finally open my eyes as he wiggles himself higher up the pillow so we’re level, which makes me smirk a little.  The height difference between us isn’t massive, but it’s enough that he has to stand on tiptoe to kiss me.  It’s why he takes advantage of the time we spend horizontal.

           He kisses my mouth, quick and warm.  “I’ve got something for you.”

           “Oh?”  What more could I possibly need right now?

           “Yeah.  Sit up.”

           I want to protest as he pulls away from me and the air between us goes cold in his absence, but I follow as he retrieves a small plate from the nightstand, the thing I heard him place there a moment ago. On the dish are two chocolate cupcakes with immaculately swirled icing, one blue, one yellow.  The frosting is so perfect that it has to be from the bakery downstairs.  Not that I mind, cupcakes are cupcakes.

           “Breakfast in bed, eh?” I smile as he pushes the plate towards me, sitting cross-legged on the covers.

           “Yeah, well, I would’ve made you a real breakfast in bed,” he blushes, “but after last time…”

           I drop a kiss on his nose.  “I prefer the kitchen fully functional, anyway.”

           He blushes harder, but he’s smiling down at his lap.  “Happy birthday, Baz.”

           I start.  I had completely forgotten that was today.  “How did you…”

           “Mordelia told me.”  He shakes his head at me.  “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything.”

           “It’s just another day,” I shrug.  No one in my family ever made a big deal about birthdays. It just wasn’t that important to us.

           “It’s your day, Baz,” he insists, starting to unwrap the blue cupcake.

           “Simon, there’s really no need to -”

           “Baz.  Every day you make me feel like the most special boy in the world.  It’s your turn to feel like that, alright?”

           He says it playfully, but my throat actually closes and I might even tear up a bit.

           It’s a moment before he glances away from his cupcake and back up at me, but I still haven’t spoken, my chest is too swollen. He sees my expression and smiles almost shyly.  “Alright?” he says again.

           “Thank you, Simon,” I manage.

           “Eat your cupcake.”

           I do.  It’s soft and still warm from the bakery.  He must have snuck downstairs as soon as they opened, still in his pyjamas. I wonder if he threw on a shirt to do it.  He’s not wearing one now.  There’s a smudge of blue on the corner of his mouth from the icing, and I hope there’s not yellow on mine.  “You know,” I venture, “you have my full permission to bring me cupcakes in bed whenever you feel like it.”

           “I’ll keep that in mind.”

           We lick the icing off our fingers and brush the chocolate crumbs from the bedspread.  “So, what are we doing today?” he asks, completely oblivious to the frosting on his mouth.  I can’t look away from it, and I purse my lips to keep from laughing.

           “I hadn’t thought about it.”

           “Well, it’s your day,” he muses.  “Is there anything you want to do?”

           I decide it’s time for some fun and shift closer to him until there’s only a breath between us.  “Absolutely,” I grin.

           He goes scarlet from his ears to his collarbone, catching my drift immediately.  I want to laugh at how easily I can fluster him but I really have no right to because just seeing his reaction is enough to have me blushing just as hard.  As if I’ve never teased him like this before.  As if we haven’t been in plenty of far more compromising positions than this.  Fucking pathetic.

           “Okay, well,” he stammers, “we can definitely pencil that in.”

           I bring a hand up to cup his face and his cheek is burning to the touch.  Not fever-burning, just blushing-like-a-cherry-burning.  “Simon,” I murmur.

           “Baz?”  His voice is smaller than I think I’ve ever heard it.

           When I lean in the rest of the way, he responds immediately, tangling a hand in my hair and scratching the back of my neck with the other, gently but not idly.  His mouth is hot as always and sweet with frosting, and I purposely focus my attentions on the spot of blue at the corner of his lips.  I’ve never cared much for chocolate but I can taste it on his mouth and right now I love chocolate, would eat it indefinitely and it could never be as good as this, as my hand on his waist and my name on his lips.

           He actually tries to pull me back to him when I break away a moment and an ecstasy later, even though he’s gasping for air and falling backwards against my hands like he’s lost his sense of direction, and Crowley, I want to follow him, to kiss him into the mattress until the sun goes down, to stay exactly like this until we fall asleep, only to wake up in the morning and start all over again, but I stay where I am.  “Simon,” I say again.

           “Yes?” he whispers, eyes still closed.

           “You’ve got frosting on your face.”

           His hand whips out of my hair and to his mouth, and he rolls his eyes when he finds the icing still there, despite my endeavors. “Really Baz,” he mutters as he wipes it away with the back of his hand, “you couldn’t have just said something?”

           “My way was more fun.”

           He grins and pushes me back until I’m propped up on my elbows.  “You know, you’ve got something on your face, too,” he breathes when he’s only an inch above my lips.

           “Do not.”

           “Do too.”

           “Prove it.”

           He shuts me up with his mouth.

           I never find out if he was lying or not, but I sure as hell don’t care.

SORTING

SORTING QUIZZES BE LIKE:

Do you like to read?

A. FUCK NO I’M TOO BUSY FIGHTING DRAGONS AND JUMPING OFF BUILDINGS AND SHIT BECAUSE B R A V E R Y IS KEY

B. Yes, it’s all I do! All day e'r’ day! :)))))) SMART PERSON HAnerdHAHAHA

C. Only with my friends while eAtInG! RAINBOWS fuCK YEaahh?!!?!

D. ssssssssneeeekkkkkkssss

there’s literally no heterosexual explanation for episode 5-7 in season one of voltron