#IS IT the bear pride flag because that's what the colors match

[officialgleamstar]

Personal DnDads Pride Headcanons

some of these are simple but most are paragraphs long because of who I am as a person (incapable of saying things concisely), so they're going under a readmore. vaguely organized by age group.

one quick note: feel free to cheer on or rag on any of these that you please, variety in opinion is the spice of fandom life! everyone's headcanons are so real and valid to me, i am a strong believer in having as many contradicting fandom opinions as you want. for this list, i just went with everything that is "default" to my fan content. others' transfem sparrow is shaking hands with my gnc sparrow and yes, i'm listing that one on purpose, because if you make fun of transfem sparrow, you are getting hit by my bat. be fucking nice.

please enjoy!

Season 1 Dads and Spouses

Carol is a lesbian. This is simply canon to me. It’s important that this is first and visible to everyone.

Bi/pan polyamorous Henry and Mercedes is also simply canon to me. Honestly that one might be fully canon based on some of the things that happen in Odyssey

Henry is unlabeled but in the sense that he calls himself ‘queer’, ‘bisexual’, ‘gay’, or ‘pansexual’, fully depending on his mood and the conversation happening

Ron is also unlabeled but in the sense that he has never thought about it in his life and isn’t intending to now

Glenn is bisexual but never talks about it unless someone else mentions it first, and he tries really really hard to never think about his gender once in his life. The queer angst I give Glenn could be a whole post of its own but just know he has issues. He does fuck men though

Darryl still isn’t really sure on his sexuality and probably never will be, but he’s actually explored it a bit, so that’s better than whatever the fuck was going on with him before the show started. Henry likes giving him subtle bear pride flag accessories because Darryl actually wears them a lot. His favorite color is brown, after all.

Jodie, Nicky, and Taylor all are bisexual with a preference for women. Sexuality isn’t genetic but it is for them specifically.

Morgan is also bisexual. Literally none of the season 1 parents are straight except maybe Samantha and even with her, my opinion fully matters on the day and how I’m feeling.

Henry and Lark have definitely had an exchange at some point where Lark asked him how it was to ‘experience twink death’, to which Henry just went ‘get back to me in a few years on that, kid.’ and Lark spent the rest of the week furiously moping because clearly, he’s a twunk, Father- (words of a man who did not take care of himself well enough from the ages of 18-25 to ever be a twunk)

This is my little shipper brain but Jodie only realized he liked men after being stuffed into the Odyssey and being around Ron 24/7 for months on end (and the demon stuff, but he didn’t know that yet for obvious reasons). In his timeline, he had a whole arc about it and now he’s persistently attracted to strange men who don’t make sense as well as women light-years out of his league. He’s still a little miffed that Henry doesn’t remember the very long conversations they had about it, but him and Nicky get to wear matching bi pride bracelets now, so he guesses it’s fine.

Kiddads and Spouses

Lark is bisexual. He has known this since kindergarten when his parents explained what the flag all over their house was and has never thought about it since.

Lark also helped Rebecca realize she was bisexual because she would ask him about it in a class they shared in high school

This is utterly unrelated to LGBT headcanons but I think Veronica and Rebecca grew up in San Dimas with the kiddads, and were friends with them in high school. It just makes sense to me

Unlabeled Terry Junior is something that can be so personal to me. In a general sense, he likes everyone romantically, and identifies enough with the asexual spectrum to wear an ace ring, but he doesn’t really see the point in putting a name on it. He’s just Terry Junior and he’s happy with that.

Him, Lark, and Nicky did have a group chat called ‘bisexuals with an agenda’ in high school though, where they would make plans for pranking or otherwise harassing their fathers during group outings. Terry loves Ron but that does not mean he is above ruining his day. It’s done with affection.

My thoughts on Sparrow could be a full fanfiction but gonna try to keep it simple (retroactive edit: did not keep it simple). Sparrow is the token cishet of the kiddads, but in the queerest way possible. He’s an Oak-Garcia, of course he’s explored himself very thoroughly. At current, he identifies as gender non-confirming cis man, but he has had periods of his life where he transitioned and then detransitioned. In early high school, he identified as non-binary. From senior year up until just before Hero was born, he lived as a trans lesbian. He doesn’t see these periods as phases, just as his identity changing over time. Currently he’s perfectly happy identifying as a man, but wouldn’t be wholly shocked if he transitioned again. Calls himself “cis but gender is obviously, massively, a social construct and so it feels unfair to expect myself to fit into these boxes when identity can be so fluid and-”

Rebecca still calls him her wife, and also a granola lesbian or MILF from time to time because it makes him laugh, and while Nicky was still in his life, he would send Sparrow trans memes a lot. Sparrow also has always liked being seen as non-binary, he sees it as ‘winning at being androgynous’. Competitive to the sense of nonsensical Sparrow my beloved

Sparrow always wears women’s clothing but that’s for autistic reasons. They just fit nicer for his brain. It helps the gender(tm) thing though, he near exclusively wore hand-me-downs from Mercedes throughout all of high school

Sorry for talking so much about Sparrow. He’s my favorite character so he is the focus of many of my thoughts. Anyways

Never been a huge fan of the ‘Grant was outed by his crush in the Forgotten Realms’ headcanon, I think Grant came out about a year beforehand. Long enough where everything about it has settled but it’s still new enough that Darryl forgot for a split second and thought Grant might have a crush on Killa during the Four Knight arc. He’d known he liked boys a while before that, and also his parents kind of figured he was gay most of his life since he had 95% girl friends

Marco is pansexual! He met Grant in college because he worked the front desk of their dorm building and would always wear a bunch of pride pins

Nicky was Grant’s first good friend who was a boy, I like to think that they were childhood friends. Grant announced this to his dad at the age of 10 by going “Nick Close is transgender now, so that means you don’t have to worry about me only talking to girls because he’s a boy.” and Darryl went “…Alright?” and then googled what ‘transgender’ means

Speaking of, Nicky realized he was trans because of Mulan. Both Glenn and Jodie, in their respective timelines, googled ‘How do I know if my daughter is a lesbian’ before he came out because Nicky would rewatch the reflection song so often and also the tomboy-isms. Everyone felt very stupid for being surprised when he cut all of his hair off, cried, and asked to change his name

T4T Nicky and Cassandra is canon and they rubbed it into everyone's faces when they were together, Anthony is just afraid of the truth

Cassandra is trans het. I love trans het people more than anything and I love her so this makes sense to me.

Veronica is non-binary, in the sense of “girl but to the left”. They/she pronouns, calls themself a girlie and a mom but not a woman, dresses in a kickass pantsuit at formal events. I’m also in love with her

Season 2 Teens and Friends

Hero and Normal are both trans. When Hero came out, Sparrow sat Normal down to explain why Hero was now a sister instead of a brother and Normal responded with “Well, that’s not fair. How come Hero can be a girl but I can’t be a boy?!” and Sparrow just stared at him for a really long time before going “You can be a boy, honey.” and they went thrift shopping as a family for new clothes the next day

Normal is stealth trans, mostly because Hero is the same way and he copies her, but also because it doesn’t really occur to him that he passes. He just figures that people knows even though he is on testosterone and binds and presents masculine. It helps that his family presents pretty gender-neutral as a whole, so most people assume he had long hair as a kid because his parents are hippies. They had a son and daughter, both with long hair. They now have a daughter and a son, both with short hair. To the general populace, nothing has changed, they just misremembered which kid was older.

Taylor is a demi-boy and spends every year growing more and more feminine. Definitely calls their gender something like ‘boy with a dash of girl on the side’ with their friends. Growing out his hair was a newer thing and he regrets cutting it, even if it was a super cool sequence and he looked like an anime protagonist, because he liked how it framed his face.

Cassandra has always maintained an openness about her trans identity, so Taylor’s the same way. He’s always got the he/they pronoun pin on (I figure this is normalized by the time of season 2, but he’s just very pleased about it), he has a variety of trans and non-binary pride pins that he cycles through, and they like painting their nails because it’s an easy way for them to feel a little more feminine.

Cassandra’s living room is decorated with a massive trans pride flag and LED lights. The first time the teens walk into Taylor’s home, Scary says “it looks like a Twitch stream in here” at the same time that Normal says “it looks like my sister’s room in here” and they high-five while Taylor yells at them to be nice.

Hermie is genderfluid and uses any pronouns. This is real to me. He has my own teenage trait of gender shifting every three hours and never knowing what to do about it and he will be suffering with this until he exits puberty, at which point he gives up and just sees what gender other people choose for him.

Hermie is also pan/ace! No further thoughts here. She just is.

Erica just goes by queer because she doesn’t think the common passerby deserves to know her rich inner life and she’s right, they don’t

I tend to say a lot that all of the S2 kids are bisexual, and I represent them as such, but I truly believe that Lincoln and Normal both have no idea what’s going on with their sexualities. They say they’re bisexual for bisexual teen squad reasons but Normal is going through a constant crisis of “Am I gay or bisexual?” and Lincoln looks up the definition of aro/ace on a weekly basis. Neither of them will ever express this until Scary goes “maybe I’m not bisexual, actually.”

On that note, Scary is a lesbian but she’s not going to realize that until college. For now, she’s rocking with the bisexuality and pretends it’s not weird that her ‘crushes’ on boys feel wildly different than her crushes on girls. Yes I am projecting. This is not a secret. We project onto Scary here.

[onbearfeet]

In which I am the monster and also there is a burrito bowl

I had an amazingly crap day today--my phone bricked itself, my anemia threw a party, just generally shit--and I decided that the only thing to do about it was to eat some cow so I'd be functional for my evening class. The nearest source of cow was Chipotle, so I put in an online order and drove over to pick it up.

I got out of my car, already tugging on my mask so I wouldn't forget due to anemia brain fog. Then I looked up and found myself face to face with what I can only describe as a SoCal Magafucker. You know 'em when you see 'em. He was a scruffy jacked white dude,maybe 30 years old, wearing a muscle tee, mirrored sunglasses, and a trucker hat sporting the silhouette of an AR-15 backed by an American flag.

And he was goddamn terrified.

I really can't describe it except to say that he was staring at me with his mouth open in the kind of pure horror normally reserved for Lovecraftian abominations. I was pretty spooked myself, since I was in a narrow space between cars and that particular combination of accessories has pointed fake and real guns at me on protest lines, but his hands were empty and I didn't see a holster and he didn't say anything, so I just assumed he was having a really quiet stroke and wove around him to go pick up my burrito bowl. He took off a couple seconds after that, hurrying toward a nearby gym with an occasional backward glance.

I was halfway across the massive parking lot when the penny dropped.

Bro had been on the way to his safe space at the gym when a car door opened and I stepped out, wearing an N95 mask, extra-dark designer sunglasses (they're prescription), and a T-shirt featuring a cartoon dragon in the colors of the demisexual pride flag that accidentally makes my torso look way more toned and my forearms way more ripped than they are. From his point of view, I had a nearly unreadable expression, my face was covered up like the fucking Winter Soldier, and I was probably doing the murder-stalk to match because that's just how I walk when I'm powering through shit.

I have been reliably informed that I have a serious case of resting murder face, resting murder stance, and resting murder walk when I'm tired. (For the uninitiated, I am sometimes onethingconstant and I wrote the murderboots post.) So to a guy in mirrored sunnies and a my-flag-is-also-a-gun hat, I probably looked every inch the pissed-off queer woman, coming right at him in his gym parking lot in front of God and everybody like I knew what he'd been saying to trans people on the internet. It was a very "I have just discovered there are bears in these woods and I regret my life choices" kind of reaction.

Anyway, I hope my blank stare and cartoon dragon haunt his nightmares.

[nerdykeppie]

I'm sorry that you've had bad experiences with our clothes. We actually order from multiple different companies, each of which has a different sizing chart, not counting t-shirts, which have their own sizing issues. That's why we have the applicable sizing charts linked on every item, notes on every item about sizing, and several large-type, bolded reminders through the process that we cannot exchange clothing for size, so please make sure you've checked the actual size chart for the item, including right at the top of your order confirmation email.

(I just pulled a test email to screenshot, which is why it has my name.)

This has been explained before, but I'm glad to explain it again: there is only one way that we could possibly afford to offer the variety of items that we offer, with no fat tax, in the number of Pride flags we carry, and in the number of sizes we carry, and that's to make all sales final.

On every pattern-printed item we have added in the past several years, there are at least 10 standard Pride flags, and as we move forward, everything's getting this full list: Ace, Aro, Bi, Bear, Gay Men's/MLM, Genderfluid, Genderqueer, Gilbert Baker, Lesbian, Non-Binary, Pan, Progress, Queer, Rainbow, Trans. Got it? Okay. Now guess how many items on each thing sell with aromantic pride colors, or gay men's, or lesbian, or genderfluid. On most items, four flags sell consistently: Ace, Bi, Trans, and Rainbow. A few more sell mid-range amounts: non-binary, pan, Progress.

To be able to exchange items for size, we would need to either a) already be stocking the item or b) have some faith that we'd be able to sell it again. Since most things from rarer flags never sell a single thing, and it's only, like, one out of fifty items with an aromantic flag option that ever sells the aro variety, that just isn't the case.

We also don't buy in bulk, because if we did that, we'd have to restrict the number of different styles we offer to just a few, and those would be the styles that fit and are preferred by the vast majority of people. To be able to offer more modest styles, styles that work for very short or very tall people, styles that work for people who are self-conscious about their broad shoulders, etc. etc. we need to work on an order-single-items-when-purchased basis.

So that leaves us where we are: we pay to have each piece of clothing manufactured, and we keep our profit margins as reasonable as we can so that we can try to make a living and pay our employees a living wage while also not charging astronomical prices. If you buy a single piece of clothing from me, and you want to exchange it, and it's not something I expect to sell again, I'm well in the red on that item.

That adds up fast, and we're already riding thin margins. We don't have funding coming from anywhere but sales, either, which means we don't have big reserves to rely on. Freedom from investors -- and we've had offers -- means not having someone telling you your shit is too queer or too objectionable and your margins are not good enough and you pay your employees too much, because, frankly, fuck that.

At the end of the day, the choice is either we can't allow exchanges or we stop offering 80% of what we offer, because we can only do exchanges for size if we think we can sell the item. I'm sorry that didn't work out for you. Our size charts on some items do run small compared to what people may be used to, but our posted size charts are extremely accurate, and I stand by them. Neither Emet or I are even vaguely skinny, and we've tested nearly everything we offer -- there are one or two we didn't because it was a special order for a single customer -- so I can say pretty firmly that if you measured and compared to the size chart, it should match.

I do my best when it comes to sizing issues -- if an order comes in and it has 2 things marked size L and one that's an XS, I'll hold the order and try to contact the customer to make sure they meant to order the XS and it wasn't a mistake, since XS is the default drop-down size. I don't catch all of the sizing issues, but we know this can be tough, so we want to make sure people get what they ordered.

If the item you got doesn't match the posted size charts, we would hope you would contact us right away so that we can reach out to the manufacturer and get you an item that is correctly manufactured. Everybody makes mistakes, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that someone would get something marked size L that's actually the measurements for a Medium. It's only happened maybe a half-dozen times over the past 5 years, but it has happened.

(This is not, by the way, a request for advice on the topic of exchanges from anybody -- we have had many, many long conversations about the topic at PHQ, and we will continue to have those conversations. If we ever figure out a way to make it work, you all will be the absolute first to know.)

You wish we could offer exchanges? Me too. I'd like to be able to do that while still offering more than 4 flags and 2 designs. If I figure out how to do that without going bankrupt, you'll be the first to know.

Okay, y'all.

I'm gonna be really up front with everybody in a way that I'm usually not:

This year so far has been really rough, in a way that kinda has me worried. Bear with me, and there will be dog pictures along the way and pictures of new swag at the end, ok?

Running a small business is always rough, and with everything going on - with me being down-and-out struggling to get my hysterectomy approved, with everything going on financially & politically, with Jake moving out here - we knew that this year probably wouldn't be a banner year, but...

... when I pulled reports at the end of May, I was kinda shocked and gutted because at the start of June, we were actually down a considerable amount year over year. I knew the year wouldn't be great, but like, oof.

Pride is usually where we make our money for the year - we call it "gay Christmas," because where other retailers count on their holiday season, we count on Pride to make sure that our employees get paid during January of the following year.

Pause for Ser Davos Seawoof:

This Pride has started ... slowly. Not terribly, but a little more slowly than I'm comfortable with, and slowly enough that I'm nervous. We invested a lot of money in new stock and equipment, and that's got to pay off. Right?

So here's the pitch:

We need to make at least $60K in sales this month to make sure that we're in good shape for the upcoming year. We are currently at $8100, and we have a two-day event coming up in Seattle at the end of the month, but that still gives us an awful lot of ground to make up.

If we hit our sales goal for this month, NerdyKeppie will donate 1% of our net profit for June to @queerliblib.

Just hitting that goal would both make it possible for us to know we can make it through the year & even if we have the worst profit margins this month, it'd be a minimum $250 donation.

We just added Express delivery as a shipping upgrade on most of our t-shirts (limited color and size options on that, which isn't under our control) so if you need something quick, we've got you, and everything from our Portland HQ collection ships usually within 2 business days.

Everything in our Bottoms & Tops collection is Buy 2, Get a 3rd 69% off with code TOP2BOTTOM until midnight tonight:

And as always, NerdyKeppie is 100% trans-owned and queer-run. We start all of our employees at a minimum of $25/hr, and all eligible employees are IWW members. We have no investors, and we have no shareholders to please. Big box corporations screw over small artists and drop Pride the minute it gets hard or controversial, but this is our life.

We're here for the long run. Help us stay and help us build resources for today & tomorrow, and get some cool-ass swag while you do.

💗🏳️‍🌈

[rhysnotreez]

So does anyone know what FL4K’s Conventional Reppin’ skin is supposed to be? I know Zane has the trans flag, Moze and Amara have lesbian flags...

[nightingaelic]

I was wondering if you could do a slight holiday react...? Like how they'd react to the Courier making them their own ugly holiday sweater?

But either way, happy holidays! 💛

I like this one 💙💛 merry everything, fallout fanscape

It was around October when the courier, who had just stepped out to go visit the Tops, paused in front of the casino's flashing façade and frowned up at it. It wasn't any more than that, just a moment that passed as quickly as it came, but afterwards they looked at their companion with a different sort of gaze. It was a tad more calculated than usual, or perhaps more calculating. They started hiding themselves in the various corners of the Lucky 38, accepting mysterious parcels through Jacobstown trade caravans and spiriting the contents away before their companion could get a good look at them. As November ticked over to December their absence from the outside world increased, until the Securitrons began decorating the Strip for Christmas and they emerged from their latest hidey-hole with a lumpy package wrapped in brown paper and string. "For you," they said presenting the gift to their companion.

The paper fell away easily, revealing a hand-knit sweater. The courier smiled with pride. "This took way too long, and for the record, I'm not doing it again, but... I made it myself."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade held the sweater up. He couldn't help chuckling at the words the courier had plastered across the chest. "'Deck the Halls with Berry Mentats'?"

"Mm-hmm!" The courier pointed out the various bunches of holly and pill containers that bordered the text. "I don't know what kind of berries those are, but they're all over pre-war Christmas decorations, so I added some Mentats tins to make sure the point came across. Of course, it's probably not even the same kind of berry in the pills, either, but it's not supposed to be serious."

Arcade rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Like most post-war knits, it was a little rough, but the courier must have gone to a lot of trouble to soften the wool somehow because it was pliable in a way that a lot of his clothes weren't. He took off his lab coat and pulled it on over his sleeved shirt. It fit him perfectly.

"I love it," he said softly, answering the question the courier's eyes were clearly asking. "It's just... the Mojave is a little warm for sweaters. During the day."

"I know." The courier was beaming. "But we're not going anywhere during the holidays, and I know you get cold in the casinos' air conditioning."

"Oh, I'm wearing this out?" Arcade looked down and smoothed out the sweater over his chest. "I'll make everyone at the Gourmand jealous."

In response, the courier whipped off their coat to reveal the matching sweater they were wearing. "We both will!"

Craig Boone: Boone tilted his sunglasses down to take in the garment. It was a red-and-white affair, patterned in big, chunky stripes with a perfect recreation of the NCR flag across the chest. "'Bear-y Christmas, New California Republic'," he read, unable to contain his mild amusement. "If I wear this into Freeside, it'll be a declaration of war."

The courier laughed. "Okay, I'll confess. I didn't think you would actually wear it. I figured you'd put it on, take a picture for my sake, then hide it in a cupboard upstairs and never speak of it again."

In response, Boone took his beret and sunglasses off and pulled the sweater on. "Take a picture," he advised them. "And then we're burning this."

"No we are not." The courier tugged it down over his hips a bit to straighten the design out. "It took me two months to make this, it cost me way too many caps... if you don't want it, I'll wear it."

"I wouldn't actually burn it, Six," Boone murmured. "Nobody... this is..."

He cleared his throat. "You did a pretty good job."

Lily Bowen: Lily held the enormous pullover up to the Lucky 38's main floor lights. It was a lovely blue color, with white snowflakes patterned across it and playfully bordering the message on the front. Lily teared up as she read it. "'Nothing Scares Me, I'm a Grandma'. Oh, pumpkin, you did such a good job."

"Do you think?" The courier tugged at the sleeves a bit. "I upped the yarn weight a bit to accommodate you, plus Marcus said it was the most common size other super mutants use to knit things for themselves. I also borrowed your needles, I hope you don't mind. They just seemed more suited to the task. It's going to be a little roomy, I'm sure, but it'll probably shrink a bit the first time we wash it, so I wouldn't worry too much about-"

"It's perfect, dearie." Lily turned it around to check the seams. "Stay right there."

She disappeared for a moment into the next room, and when she emerged she was wearing the sweater and a grin the size of the Hoover Dam. "Perfect," she repeated, tugging the sleeves up around her big wrists.

Now it was the courier's turn to tear up. "Thanks, Grandma."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul burst out laughing as he held the red sweater up. "'Feliz Navidad, Wey'? That's the best you could come up with, Six?"

The courier rolled their eyes. "Out of all my friends, you're the only one who's been around since before the Great War. I didn't want to slap something on there that wasn't true to the holiday as it used to be. You'd never let me live it down."

"True," Raul admitted, turning the sweater this way and that to admire it. "What is this, bighorner wool? You must've shelled out a pretty cap for that, boss, the only wooly ones I've seen live way up north of California. And los cascabeles are a nice touch."

"Thanks. Tracking those down was harder than the wool." The courier grabbed the bottom of the sweater and shook it to make the bells jingle. "Now I'll know where you are at all times, if we get separated during a scuffle."

Raul snorted. "Wouldn't that be a sight. No, Six, I wouldn't risk your handiwork."

He pulled the sweater on and grinned. "Encaja como un guante."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass shrieked with delight when she read the front of the sweater. "'Ho Ho Hold My Drink!' Six, it's perfect!"

Before they could thank her, she tossed her hat and various accessories aside and pulled it on. It was a little tight across the chest, but Cass didn't mind: It showed off the yellow lettering a bit better and reminded her that she'd been eating well, since she'd taken up with the Strip's proprietor. She clapped her hands together. "We have to take this out for a spin."

"A spin?"

"Sure." Cass threw an arm around the courier's shoulder. "A sweater like this deserves a story to go with it. Besides, anyone who tries to mess with a gal wearing something like this is just asking for a drunken brawl. What do you say, Gomorrah? I hear they just added Christmas cookies to their buffet."

The courier laughed. "You're sure you want to eat cookies from Gomorrah's kitchens?"

"Hey, the ladies and gents of the Gomorrah Hotel and Casino have many, many talents, Six. Don't knock their baking."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica gasped in delight, touching each of the faux poinsettia rosettes that dotted the sweater's front and framed the white words against the green background. "'This IS My Fancy Dress.' Six!"

"I know, I know it's not a real dress, but it's the best I could do for now," the courier admitted. "And it's not like the Gourmand won't let us in anymore, seeing as it's me..."

Veronica thumped against them in an earnest hug before they could finish. "Six, I love it. You made this? Where did you get the materials, the time, I just... it's amazing!"

"Aww." The courier blushed. "Thanks. It took a while to figure out the whole knitting thing, but... I'm just glad I got it done in time."

"Here, hold this." Veronica shucked off her robe and handed it over, revealing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans underneath. The sweater went on easily over the top, and she smoothed it out affectionately. "Ugh, I'm so pleased. I'm going to be the envy of the bunker. No one down there's this good at knitting anymore, everyone's going to want one."

ED-E: ED-E examined the sweater curiously. It was small, like a dog sweater, but a little more round and with buttons running all the way up the front, plus a strange cylindrical part that stood out with some loose, black yarn attached. It held in place while the courier buttoned the red fabric over the eyebot's frame, then straightened out the cylinder so it stood up with the black yarn.

"There," they said, stepping back with a satisfied look on their face. "You're a holiday ornament, ED-E. Put on some lights for me?"

ED-E turned on every indicator light it had at once and began to play Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" through its speakers. The courier looked beyond happy. "Thanks, buddy. Merry Christmas to you, too."

Rex: Rex sniffed the woolen gift over. It was green, with white zig-zags across it and little colored circles up and down its length. He stood still and panted while the courier pulled it onto him, putting each front leg through its holes with care. When they were finished, they topped him off with a green, knit hat topped with a yellow felt star.

"Merry Christmas, Rex," they said with a grin. "Come on. We've got to show you to the King."

[soulmate-game]

I'd pay you to make a part 2 of Clark's reaction to Jon's pride flag coming out and overall chaos of all the new info revealed

No need for payment. I need an excuse to write dabbles anyway, it’s probably the best way for me to build back up to updating my longer stories.

—*—*—*—*—*

Clark had had a long day. Reporting was a fairly exhausting job, especially when he had to put up the façade of the clumsy and socially awkward country boy still. The amount of times he had to fumble his way around people blatantly trying to take advantage of him just because they thought they could...

Ready to just flop on the couch and relax for a little while, barring any last second crises, he pushed open the door.

And blinked once. Twice. Checked his phone— no, it was still August. Cautiously, he walked in the building absolutely bewildered at what he was seeing.

Rainbows. Everywhere. The normal tablecloth was replaced with one that was white with a rainbow-and-unicorn print. The napkin holder was covered in what looked like a rainbow-knitted mug warmer. There was a candelabra on the center of the table with three candles in suspiciously specific colors (pink, purple, and blue). The kitchen was covered in an equally suspicious color scheme of pink, yellow, and light blue. Even the aprons hung up on the walls, and— Clark pulled open a drawer. Yeah, they even got the oven mitts. The greens and blues of the “gay male” flag covered the living room from top to bottom— where did whoever did this even get those pillows from? To add embarrassment to confusion, there was a giant poster of the “butt’s match” theory up on one wall, but with the bisexual flag superimposed on it. The stairs had a thin rugs on the top of each step, each a different pride flag.

Morbid curiosity led him to open the restroom door, then slowly close it because it was covered in the bear-brotherhood tribe flag and colors.

Lois’ side of a bed was a giant Demi-sexual flag. And there, on his own side of the bed, was a blanket and pillow with a rainbow-colored SuperMan logo on a red background.

And Jon, who was laying across Clark’s side of the bed with rainbow colored heart glasses (with tinted lenses??? Why???) and an “I ❤️ robin” t-shirt.

Upon seeing his father, Jon rolled out of bed as effortlessly lazy as you please, shot finger guns at him, and said;

“I’m so gay I make you look straight.”

“Excuse me?” Clark wasn’t even offended, just so terribly confused. “I never said I was straight???”

“You never said you weren’t either, ya himbo,” Jon then pointed to his shirt. “I love Damian, we’ve been dating for a month already. I can, and do, smooch a Wayne better than you ever did and you have to live with that fact now.”

Clark opened his mouth, closed it, furrowed his brow. “You guys... have had dates at the house... while I was home, Jon. I could hear you guys make out, and trust me I wish I couldn’t. You didn’t think I knew?”

“Uhhhh—“

“Tell you what. If you do this exact same thing to Kon’s apartment and crash his date with Tim to tell him you’re gay, I’ll pretend to be shocked that you’re dating the guy you’ve been pining over for years. Deal?”

“Kon’s dating Tim? Since when?”

“...”

Meanwhile, at the Manor:

Damian and Marinette are reading in the library by themselves, when Damian flips a page and asks;

“How long do you think it’ll take Jon to remember his dad has super hearing and had definitely heard us getting together at the watchtower last month?”

“How long until he realizes Kon forgot to tell him that he’s also gay?”

“... We are way too mean to the himbos in our lives.”

Neither of them seemed the least bit bothered by that, sharing a mischievous smirk with one another before turning right back to their reading. Bruce had also been fully aware of this catastrophe, and had volunteered for watch duty at the tower to avoid the chaos.

[archaeopologist]

Also an archaeologist isn’t going to refer to a skeleton as “a male’s” or “a female’s.” They might be like “the pelvis maybe looks masculine but there’s a rusted pin that we’ve used [cool 1000 years in the future radiography or paint testing something process] and matched the color pattern with that of a 20th/21st century transgender pride pin… of course the textiles didn’t survive and there weren’t other pins with text to decipher so we can’t say with certainty what their gender was BUT most likely this individual identified as a member of the transgender community and it’s so cool that we know that!!!

Or:

This individual was found buried with/in textiles and burial goods that denoted femininity so was probably a woman. The skeleton? I mean. It’s a skeleton.

Or:

This individual was found buried with/in textiles and burial goods that denoted masculinity but through grave rubbings we’ve discovered vandalism and a name crudely carved over the engravings. Archaeology of the grave feature has also discovered what we believe to be plastic flags and decayed wood dowels from which some of the polyester fabric has come back from the lab with transgender pride colors. Some pins, teddy bears, hair clips, bracelets and other artifacts have been logged as being within the context of this grave site, so we have theories that this may have been a transgender individual buried by those who chose to present her (a she/her pin has been recovered from what would have been directly in front of the headstone) in a masculine fashion for any number of hypothesized reasons.

At the end of the day if you have any concerns about archaeologists getting your gender wrong there are 2 Key Takeaways:

One, you’re in the company of like. Pretty much everybody. Bones on their own don’t tell us how a person identified or even their “sex” most of the time. There’s tons of natural variation in the human body (and also the rib thing is a lie my evangelical friend told me that my best friend and fellow archaeologist corrected thank you)

Two, personal affects and situational context is Always going to take precedence in identifying you as a person than your bones. And the bones are mainly going to be used to identify trauma indicators for diseases you may have had and how you died.

Even if an archaeologist can tell that you have particularly feminine or masculine they don’t really care that much: they’ll be much more interested in the fact that you somehow appear to have managed to starve to death in a bear trap despite it being designed to be opened by human hands.

And Three, because I can’t count, Archaeology like any field is constantly evolving and if someone gets your post Mortem gender wrong the first time someone else may come along and be like “using this new technique and new contextual evidence we can tell we were wrong. Here is new information for your records, beartrap skeleton”

Okay, so my 42 year-old eyes read that as a "mole's skeleton" and I was really confused.

Just visions of trans folks burrowing through my backyard.

Also, behold my abundance of ribs!

[expectingtofly]

Painted Nails and Pride

1.7k

internalized homophobia, john being an a**hole, bisexual dean, found family, happy ending

written for day 7 of @spnprideweek

Music boomed from the park down the street and Dean tried to focus on the newspapers spread out before him, front pages covered with news about a bear attack at a campsite a few miles west. Not actually a bear attack, of course. From the tracks they’d seen when they hiked out there yesterday, Dad's money was on wendigo.

Cheering drew his eyes from the table where he, Sam, and Dad sat outside a restaurant to the people heading down the sidewalk towards the music. Banners on streetlights along the road proclaimed that today marked Roseville's 3rd Annual Pride Parade. His eyes snagged on a group of kids his own age standing on the street corner, hugging and talking excitedly. One boy had painted nails and wore a cropped shirt that exposed his midriff. As he talked with his friends, he looked around, and his eyes met Dean’s. He smiled at him, and Dean ducked his head, face burning.

An announcer’s voice echoed down the street. “Welcome to Pride,” the voice boomed. Dean folded and unfolded the corner of the newspaper, listening to the cheering, rotating the ring on his thumb around and around.

Dad snorted, and Dean glanced up at him. Arms crossed, leaning back in his chair, he watched the proceedings with a scowl on his face. Dean studied the newspapers more intently, underlining words just to look like he was doing something productive. Part of him wanted to go down to the parade, just to see what it was all about, but that was ridiculous. Only affirmed by a derogatory comment Dad made low under his breath about the people in the street.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed verbally, jostling his leg under the table. He glanced sideways at Sam, who was giving Dad a glare. Dean gave him a look that meant, don’t start, but Sam ignored him.

“Don’t say that,” he said, and Dean froze, eyes snapping to their father. Dad pulled his eyes from the street to Sam, giving him a long, steady look.

“What?” he asked after a long moment. “You one of them?”

Sam only held his gaze for a second before it seemed his courage failed. He ducked his head. “No,” he mumbled, kicking at the table leg.

Dad stared at him for another long moment, expressionless, before turning his journal around and dropping it in front of Sam. “Shut up and make yourself useful. Sooner we figure out what’s killing these folks, sooner we can get out of this goddamn town.”

He waved down the waitress for another drink, and Dean glared at Sam, who was absently thumbed through the journal pages. Returning to his own work, he snapped one newspaper closed and opened another, skimmed an article about the victim’s family. The words didn’t really make sense in his head, though, and too soon he found himself watching the people in the street again. The boy who’d smiled at him had disappeared, though, probably watching the parade.

Finding a one-off line in an article about rumors of a strange being haunting the woods, he circled it and handed the newspaper across the table.

“Nice work,” Dad said, taking the paper, but instead of the usual warmth from his praise, Dean only felt sick.

He felt about the same now, standing in Jody’s kitchen—off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way during the frenzied preparations to attend the Sioux Falls Pride Parade. Music played from Patience’s phone, some song he recognized from Cas constantly turning the radio dial to the pop music station. Sam helped Kaia finish a sign decorated with the lesbian flag, and Eileen signed with Alex who was learning sign language in high school. Claire sat at the table painting Jack’s nails, who wriggled in his seat excitedly.

Catching Dean’s eyes, he held up the hand Claire had finished. “Dean, look!”

Dean forced a smile. “Looks good.”

“Stay still,” Claire ordered, frowning down at Jack’s hand as she painted his pinky.

This was a bad idea, Dean thought. Jody had invited them for the week, mentioning off-hand that Sioux Fall’s pride events were going on, and Dean had pushed aside the mild panic at that comment, told her they’d come visit. He didn’t know he’d be roped into joining everyone at Pride, but here he was, feeling out of place in the corner of the kitchen. Who knew how he’d feel standing at the parade.

“Want me to do yours?” Claire asked, and Dean snapped his attention back to her. She was holding a bottle of nail polish, others lined up next to her on the table, and he froze, realizing what she was suggesting.

His first instinct was to spit out, “I’m not one of those,” but guilt rushed through him for how harsh the words sounded in his head. Defensive words, unnecessary ones because there was no threat here. He didn't mean them anyway.

Swallowing them down, he glanced around the kitchen for rescue. Cas was helping Donna pack water bottles because “It’s gonna be hot out there,” but he must’ve felt Dean’s gaze because he looked over and gave him a reassuring smile. No judgement in his eyes, or Claire's either, for that matter. He had a feeling he wouldn't find any judgement in this kitchen, which should've been a relief, but he had a hard time trusting it.

“Come on, Dean,” Jack said. “We can match!”

You can do this, Dean told himself. It's just Pride, not an Apocalypse.

He tried to smile. “Sure,” he said, going to the table and sitting down, chest tight.

He chose the color blue because it felt less ostentatious than the pinks and lilacs Claire presented to him. Even so, the color looked strikingly bright in the sunlight as he stood along the street marked off for the parade, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey,” Cas said, touching his shoulder. Dean tensed, then felt awful for his reaction, but Cas didn’t move away, only rubbed between his shoulder blades until Dean relaxed marginally. “You okay?”

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he managed. Cas gave him a small smile and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.

A float passed with people waving and dancing on top, a banner strung across the front declaring, “Protect Trans Kids.” Jack waved a rainbow flag around, cheering along with the crowd. Claire’s arm was wrapped around Kaia’s shoulders, a smile tugging at her mouth despite her attempts to look unbothered by the proceedings. Dean wished he could feel that nonchalant. Instead, he kept looking over his shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what threat he was looking for, but the press of the growing crowds and the heat and noise, the bright colors and waving flags everywhere he looked was making him nauseous.

Turning back to the parade, he met Sam’s eyes. “Never thought we’d both end up here, right?” Sam asked over the noise, attempting levity, and Dean wondered if he remembered sitting outside near a Pride parade, feeling so unsure. There were plenty of other instances to remember, plenty of times John made disparaging comments that Dean either pretended to not hear or agreed with out of a panic that if he wasn’t careful, they might be directed at him next.

“This is fun,” Sam commented, watching the parade, and Dean wished he could agree.

Easy for you to say, he thought. You have a girlfriend, people’ll assume you’re straight. But he felt bad for thinking it. He didn’t want Cas to move away from him—if anything, wanted him closer, wanted his arm around him. But he felt too tense to move.

A crowd of middle-aged people walked in the parade, t-shirts reading variations of MOM HUGS, DAD HUGS, GRANDPA HUGS. Dean watched as people stepped off the sidewalk and hugged the moms and dads, some crying as soon as arms wrapped around them.

Without his permission, he felt his own eyes growing teary and he ducked his head, scraped his heel on the sidewalk.

“Dammit,” Jody said. “Where can I get one of those t-shirts?”

“We gotta do that next year,” Donna decided, and Jack gave her a hug.

“You can hand out hugs without the t-shirt,” he told her, and she grinned.

“You’re right.” Lifting her arms, she announced, “Free hugs over here!” People around them laughed, and someone took her up on the offer, telling her, “You’ve got a lovely family.”

Donna beamed. “Why yes I do.” She pulled Claire into a half-hug that Claire resisted, protesting the whole time. “Come here, Sam,” she said, yanking Sam into a hug that he had to nearly fold himself in half for. Everyone else got their turn, then she turned to Dean, holding out her arms.

Dean stepped into it, wrapping his arms around her. A gentler hug, Donna rubbing his back. Dean sunk into the embrace, the chaos around him subsiding for a moment.

“We’re family now, right?” she asked, pulling away to meet his eyes, and Dean nodded. Smiling at him and patting his arm, she turned back to Jody, wrapping an arm around her.

It felt a little easier to breathe now, his chest not so tight. The crowds around them didn’t seem so threatening, just smiling people with their families like he was with his. Eileen cheered as a float passed with an Irish LGBTQ+ coalition, and Dean smiled, easier now, not forced.

Jody pulled Donna in for a kiss that turned into making out. Claire rolled her eyes. “Ew, guys, Gross.” Kaia elbowed her and Claire’s put-on air of displeasure broke into a grin as she elbowed her back. Cas nudged Dean with a small smile when a float of pink, purple, and blue streamers drove past. For a moment, Dean's chest seized, John's voice ringing in his head, but in all the noise around them, it quickly drowned out.

Pulling his hands from his pockets, he took Cas’ hand. Cas interlaced their fingers immediately, squeezing tightly, then lifted their hands and studied Dean’s nails. Dean had let Jack paint a smiley face on his pinky to match the one on Jack’s thumbs. Staring at them, he thought of a boy at Pride with painted nails, his own fears and wants tightening his chest, but then Cas looked up at him with a smile, and the memory faded into a warm glow.

“I like them,” Cas told him.

“Yeah," Dean said. "Me too.”

[gayflagblog]

Plain Flag Poll Response Breakdown

This post is a breakdown of the data collected in the Plain Flag Poll [linked here] as of 5/5/2021. For the breakdown of the Symbol Flag Poll data please click here. Because I am concerned about the readmore breaking and the length of this post, it will not be put into the main tags.

All images are transcribed. (This post may be reblogged with additional data when more unique responses are collected, you’ll be able to see this in the notes)

Poll Info: Participants were asked to pick which flag from each “category” of proposal/variant they felt the most connected to, or which was simply their “favorite”. If they wanted to, they were also given an optional question in which to explain their choice from the previous section. At the end of the poll, participants were asked to pick a flag out of the overall selection based on the previous criteria (connection/favorite) and, optionally, explain their choice.

Overall, 54 unique responses were recorded.

Question #1

[ Image Description: A pie chart is shown. The question at the top is “Out of the ‘Original’ flag proposals, which is your favorite/which do feel the most connection to?”. The response data is 43.4% for “5-stripe simplified”, 39.6% for “Original”, 15.1% for “6-stripe simplified #2″, and 1.9% for “6-stripe Simplified #1″. ]

Participants who choose to explain their selection in Question 1b. responded with the following.

Participants who selected 5-stripe simplified (10 participants did not respond)

"easy to remember”

“simple with good color contrast, easy to replicate“

“I like that the teal/green and blue each have 2 stripes instead if one having more than other other. The original just feels like too many stripes”

“Most aesthetically pleasing and personal connection due to using it!“

“it's a good amount of stripes IMO. not too little, not too many. plus, it's an uneven number, so it feels symmetrical, too.“

“White is centered, more eye-catching contrast.“

“I prefer 5 stripe flags, I like the symmetry, 5 stripe is easier to draw, easier to make merch in, simpler, bolder, looks nicer to me. i also like to put the trans flag and other flags side by side and so it's nice for me when they have the same stripe number.”

“aesthetically it matches the trans flag with the 2 stripes above and below the white trans line and makes it look nice when used with the trans flag“

“There’s less stripes which stops the colours blending together in my eyes.“

“I generally prefer more compact flags. they're easier to replicate irl, like on merchandise, and are better for icons and edits online.“

“I think a part of pride flags should be simplicity and reproducibility. Too many stripes might be difficult to remember and reproduce.“

“I like either the original or the 5 stripe simplified; slightly prefer the 5 stripe simplified because it's more "readable" if that makes sense. Like if I was describing it I could say Its a flag made of ‘dark green, light green, white, light blue, and dark blue stripes’ vs ‘dark green... medium(?) green, lighter green...’.”

“I think this version is easier to be made in large scale.“

Participants who selected Original (10 participants did not respond)

“I think the symmetrical ones with the white stripe in the middle look most aesthetically pleasing!”

“I like the 7 stripe best, but the 5 stripe is good too. I don't like the 6 stripe designs because they are unbalanced“

“I love the mirroring and balance, as well as the fact it reminds me of old leather and bear flags. plus I kinda hate that there are so many five stripe flags, it feels like they’re all mirroring the trans flag. the five stripe ones are really abrupt in colour change as well, and having more than five stripes really sets this flag apart. other five stripe variant flags were rooted in art theft, so using this five stripe might encourage use of the others, which upsets me. I also like that it’s similar to the lesbian flag; like two sides of a coin!“

“I really like the original and also the blue/purple six stripe!! I just really love the blue on it and also odd numbers make me really happy so the 7 stripes just feel right to me.”

“absolutely hate asymmetry so definitely neither of the 6 stripe simplified flags. The 5 stripe simplified doesn't have enough / the right colors to convey the same thing the original does. The 5 stripe is duller and more shallow somehow.“

“I think the original is the best out of these, but I think the 6-stripe simplified (more green/teal) could work if you were able to keep the light blue stripe somehow, since i liked the symbolism of the light blue to purple transition but the top stripes in the 6-stripe simplified (more blue/purple) don't look too good. i think the white stripe is better as the 4th stripe not the 3rd.“

“I like the colour variation“

“I like the evenness, and I just like the look of the thinner stripes on the original in contrast to the 5 stripe simplified.”

“I feel it to be the most coherent and aesthetically pleasing.”

“I use both the original and the 5 striped version but I have a physical version of the original and I love being able to show the meaning behind the stripes“

“I feel a connection with the colors and I like the transition they make into white. I chose the original, but my second option would be the second 6-stripe version because it's more different to the lesbian flag and I feel less connected to the blue parts (not purple).“

Participants who selected 6-stripe simplified #2 [more green/teal] (3 participants did not respond)

"IMO the 6-stripe flags are much better to use to differentiate from the lesbian flag and to match other gay mlm flags (autistic gay, she/her gay, etc).”

“I prefer the 6 striped flag because then the flag doesn’t “look like a hue shifted lesbian flag” like so many people claim it to be. -J“

“I think it eliminates the "it's a recolor of the lesbian flag" argument as there is a stripe number difference, plus the placement of the white stripe looks more "pleasing" there !“

“I think the colors on the version with more green/teal are my favorite out of all of them, although i love them all! I like the greens.”

The one Participant who selected 6-stripe Simplified #1 [more blue/purple] did not respond.

Question #2

[ Image Description: A pie chart is shown. The question at the top is “Out of the ‘Warm’ flag proposals, which is your favorite/which do feel the most connection to? (proposal credit @undeadedits)”. The response data is 41.5% for “Warm Original”, 37.7% for “Warm 5-stripe Simplified”, 13.2% for “Warm 6-stripe Simplified #2 (More Teal)”, and 7.5% for “Warm 6-stripe Simplified #1 (More Purple)”. ]

Participants who choose to explain their selection in Question 2b. responded with the following.

Participants who selected Warm Original (17 participants did not respond)

“the greens and purples are really nice, plus same reasons above“ (see Q1, Response #3 of “Participants who selected Original”, shown above)

“same reason as above“ (see Q1, Response #5 of “Participants who selected Original”, shown above)

“Similar answer to before, though I do also like the 6 stripe simplified with more purple, as it makes the blue toned colours look nice. “ (see Q1, Response #8 of “Participants who selected Original”, shown above)

“honestly i just really like the Vibes this one gives off. :)“

“For the same reasons as before. I also prefer the warm versions of the flag because they make the purple more obvious.“ (see Q1, Response #11 of “Participants who selected Original”, shown above)

Participants who selected Warm 5-stripe Simplified (13 participants did not respond)

"I feel the 6-stripes original has a more solemn vibe and the mid-color gives a better blending feel. For the warm, the 5-stripes simplicity actually helps giving that softer vibe, and it helps the aesthetic.”

“simple to remember but this time better because it is warm :)“

“Most aesthetically pleasing- other options are too busy in my opinion“

“same reason as above“ (see Q1, Response #8 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

"Same as the other flag. Less stripes better.” (see Q1, Response #9 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

"For the same reasons.” (see Q1, Response #11 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

"I think this version is easier to be made in large scale.”

Participants who selected Warm 6-stripe Simplified #2 [More Teal] (4 participants did not respond)

"I dunno what draws me to the 4th option, but it just feels right to me. I think it fits :)”

(repeat of Q1, Response #1 of “6-stripe simplified #2″, shown above)

“Same as 1b, plus I also prefer the darker blue and three greens to the darker green and three blues cuz it feels more equal?? As if the white is a reeeeeaaaaally light blue. -J“

The 4 Participants who selected Warm 6-stripe #1 [More Purple], did not respond.

Question #3

[ Image Description: A pie chart is shown. The question at the top is “Out of the ‘Philadelphia’ flag proposals, which is your favorite/which do feel the most connection to?”. The response data is 24.5% for ‘Warm 5-stripe Philadelphia’, 22.6% for ‘Original Philadelphia ‘, 20.8% for ‘5-stripe Philadelphia’, 15.1% for ‘Warm Original Philadelphia’, 9.4% for ‘Alternative Original Philadelphia’, and 7.5% for ‘Alternative 5-stripe Philadelphia’. ]

Participants who choose to explain their selection in Question 3b. responded with the following.

Participants who selected Warm 5-stripe Philadelphia (8 participants did not respond)

"again it's simple/easy to remember and also warm colours >>>”

“Most aesthetically pleasing (but not a POC so my opinion carries no weight!)“

“again I hate asymmetry but the black and brown stripes look really really awkward when separated. the reason I chose the warm one is because it makes the color contrast easier on the eyes.“

“I prefer the brown stripes to the philly flag's black and brown stripes since the black stripe originally represented victory over aids, and tbh, the colors are much more appealing. as for stripe count, it's pretty much the same as above. the expanded flags are especially cumbersome when you add the two extra stripes on top.“

“I feel more connected to the warm flags and I think that 9 stripes are maybe too many.“

Participants who selected Original Philadelphia (10 participants did not respond)

“I’m not a fan of Philadelphia flags in general (I'm not in the US and it isn’t used in my country), but the original variant keeps the stripes in line with other Philadelphia designs. black stripe still might be an oof bc of the aids flag black stripe, but that’s not well known anyway”

“I think the original one with the inclusive stripes on top just feels much better. I like seeing the inclusive stripes on the top in their original colors, without any tints, so this one happens to be my favorite and I would definitely buy it.”

Participants who selected 5-stripe Philadelphia (7 participants did not respond)

"The original 5 stripe is my favorite of the flags, and adding two more stripes really makes the original flag look like a barcode haha”

“It's the most visually appealing, and easiest to look at, plus it mimics the original Philly Pride Flag in having the black and brown stripes before the regular stripes.“

“This version has the black and brown stripes at the top, which matches with the idea of black visibility and black representation.“

“For the same reasons, even tho there are more stripes, it's just the 5-stripes version (easy to remember) plus the two stripes for black and brown communities.“ (see Q1, Response #11 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

Participants who selected Warm Original Philadelphia (5 participants did not respond)

“The warmer browns go better with the overall tones I think”

“I don't really think I have an input since I'm white, but I just find it the most visually appealing“

“The warm allows the colours to blend more cohesively, where the original seems to contrast in an awkward way.”

Participants who selected Alternative Original Philadelphia (3 participants did not respond)

“The alt design of the “Philadelphia” flag feel more equal and less of being added on. -J“

“I just think it looks cool! the original Philadelphia is also really good.“

Participants who selected Alternative 5-stripe Philadelphia (3 participants did not respond)

“I like symmetry. i don't think my opinion matters much here bc I'm not BIPOC“

Question #4

[ Image Description: A pie chart is shown. The question at the top is “Out of the ‘Pink’ flag proposals, which is your favorite/which do feel the most connection to? (proposal credit @IanBlazquez)”. The response data is 62.3% for ‘Pink/Purple 5-stripe’ and 37.7% for Pink/Purple Original. ]

Participants who choose to explain their selection in Question 4b. responded with the following.

Participants who selected Pink/Purple 5-stripe (23 participants did not respond

“I think you see the trend it's easier to remember the layout of and stuff”

“I think all the 5 stripe flags look better than the 7+ ones as they're simpler and easier to look at“

“the 5 stripe simplified pretty much conveys the same thing as the original so i don't have much of a preference beyond it being simpler so it's a lot easier to process.“

“again, i like less stripes. don't like either of them very much though“

“same reason as above.“ (see Q1, Response #8 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

“For the same reasons, even tho I'm not a fan of this design overall, it reminds me too much a reversed genderqueer flag (if that's the purpose, I'm sorry and I understand it).“ (see Q1, Response #11 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

“I don't really like these but the 5 stripe is better“

“I think this version is easier to be made in large scale.“

“I think the pink/purple original might feel a little too similar to the lesbian pride flag, which people have felt uncomfortable with/ complained about before. so I would prefer the five stripe design for this one.“

“It is simpler and easier to reproduce.“

Participants who selected Pink/Purple Original (15 participants did not respond)

“I like the more carnation-y green, but this one is a bit eye-strain-y tbh”

“I don't have too much of a connection of either of them (they look a bit similar to the genderqueer flag IMO), but I have a slight preference for the seven-stripe one.“

“once again, odd numbers.... I think this is so pretty!!“

“While I would love a six striped flag (reasoning for this on 1b), I adore the seven striped flag. It almost feels more inclusive in a way, I guess? -J“

“Similar response to the previous Original type flags, nice thin stripes.”

Question #5

[ Image Description: A pie chart is shown. The question at the top is “Out of all of the above, which is your favorite/which do feel the most connection to?”. The response data is 28.3% for ‘5-stripe Simplified’, 26.4% for ‘Original Draft Proposal’, 17% for ‘Warm Original’, 9.4% for ‘Warm 5-stripe Simplified’, 7.5% for ‘6-stripe Simplified #2 (more green/teal)’, and 1.9% for ‘Warm 6-stripe Simplified #2 (More Teal)’, ‘5-stripe Philadelphia’, ‘Pink/Purple Original’, and ‘Warm 6-stripe Simplified #1 (More Purple)’. ]

Participants who choose to explain their selection in Question 4b. responded with the following.

Participants who selected 5-stripe Simplified (9 participants did not respond)

"I like the 5-stripe simplified one best as I feel it's the most aesthetically pleasing, and I feel its colours represent the gay community best out of all of them. I've also used it for a while so I feel a strong connection to it! <3″

“good amount of stripes + the color scheme that I'm most familiar with“

“same reason as above“ (see Q1, Response #8 of “5-stripe simplified”, shown above)

“I actually really like Ian's 5-stripe pink/purple iteration of the flag. the colors are pleasing and I like that there's a bit more variation in the stripes, but the pink triangle being part of the symbolism for the pink stripe makes me feel kinda weird. Jewish LGBT people have repeatedly expressed discomfort with gentiles using/claiming the pink triangle since it's holocaust imagery. I do like pink as a stripe color overall, though. it's just that point that makes me unwilling to use that particular design. I do think, overall, that i prefer the cool colors of the original design, and I'm a big fan of the symbolism there.“

“Definitely easy to reproduce, simple and relatable. Love it.“

“The less colours in a flag for me the better; It's easy to recognize among all the others! I would also add that I really like a version of the flag that uses the colours of the original without the darkest purple and green.“

Participants who selected Original Draft Proposal (10 participants did not respond)

“myself one as soon as pridenation started selling them, and it makes me feel really represented and appreciated when I see this flag anywhere. thank you for making it. “

“the original one just really captures my attention :)“

“It's the prettiest I guess? second choice would be the warm version of the original because it's a lot more purple which is nice.“

“Seeing this flag finally made me feel like I had my own flag! The original was the first one I saw, and I became attached to it. I tend to see the rainbow as an all encompassing flag for the LGBTQ, in contrast to people tending to see the rainbow as only for gay men.“

Participants who selected Warm Original (7 participants did not respond)

“As a gay man, I would probably use the warmer flags. They strike me as more friendly without straying too far from the more recognized variant. I'm also biased because, well, I'm a lowkey twink, and I like the pinkish undertones. Personally, I'm against any flag that looks unbalanced, where the white stripe seems "off". My second choice would be the pink & purple one. The history of the color pink is incredibly important.”

“I prefer the warm colors because they emphasize the purple and I feel more connection to purple than to blue. I also like the structure of the original flag.”

Participants who selected Warm 5-stripe Simplified (4 participants did not respond)

“it is just simply better idk”

Participants who selected 6-stripe Simplified #2 [more green/teal] (2 participants did not respond)

“IMO the 6-stripe flags are much better to use to differentiate from the lesbian flag and to match other gay mlm flags (autistic gay, she/her gay, etc).”

“if the six-stripe simplified flag with the philly stripes were an option i would totally pick it, otherwise this one is my absolute favorite. it feels much more like its own flag and I really just appreciate the composition of the colors and stripes more.“

Participants who selected Warm 6-stripe Simplified #2 (More Teal)

“it makes the purple more apparent.”

Participants who selected 5-stripe Philadelphia

“I rather those shades of blue than the purple ones and I think it's important to add visibility to black and brown people.”

Participants who selected Pink/Purple Original

“I like the pink/purple flag because it makes it feel less of the stereotypical blue masculinity for men. Purple especially is nice because it can be both pinkish (“feminine”) and blueish (“masculine”). I’m GNC and I love when I’m able to show that and be represented in such, even with a shade of color! -J”

Participants who selected Warm 6-stripe Simplified #1 (More Purple), 6-stripe Simplified #1 (More Blue/Purple), and Warm 6-stripe Simplified #1 (More Purple) did not respond.

Conclusion

Participants who responded showed an interest in

Reproducibility of a flag/ability to easily make physical flags

An “easy to remember” and “easy to recognize” flag

Flag aesthetics/personal color preference

Number, symmetry, and size/thickness of flag stripes

Personal connection, feeling represented by the flag

Ability to connect and show the flag alongside other pride flags (e.g. the trans flag)

Many participants expressed that they used multiple flags.

[ If you’re wondering why I’m not sharing or linking the poll spreadsheet, this is because personal emails are collected by Google Polls from each participant as they respond and I don’t want to make these public. I apologize if any numbers are slightly off. Some participant’s responses were un-censored for the sake of screenreaders. ]

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 26- Next Right Move

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

Where do the hermits go from here? All this knowledge, it bears so much weight. With their enemy being the leader of Lairyon himself, how can they possibly do anything now? Why should they?

_________________________________________________

The hermits wasted no time returning to Eremita. Running as far from Milliara as possible, into the safety of the Ashioll sea. Protected by the mysterious magic surrounding their home, the hermits are able to recuperate from the honor and horror they’ve witnessed. Exhausted from the Chimaera’s Championship, but terrified from what monstrosity Dolios put them through. The phoenix shaped chalice, the grand prize of gold and honor from the games sits discarded at the guild hall. Every night, a few hermits can be found huddled near a fireplace or drinking in someone’s house. 

The hermits left Eremita determined to find out who the dark mage was. They knew it was a Councilmember. They never expected it to be the magistrate himself. They never expected to win the Chimaera’s Championship, or stumble in on a plot much larger, much darker than they thought. And now here they are, narrowly escaped the dark mage’s wrath, with no clue what to do. 

This is bigger than the hermits. This is bigger than Gildara, or Danes, or anything they’ve ever faced before. This is beyond a scope they can even understand. Why is Dolios doing this? How far has his corruption spread? Who can stop Dolios, the Magistrate and leader of Lairyon? If the king is silent, and the Council is a part of his cabal, then no one is able to stop him. 

The hermits take the news in different ways- though no one celebrates their victory. Not after nearly dying in Dolios’s dungeons they only believed were rumors. The training field is empty, except for False. Anger burns through her pain, her kukri digging into the slime dummies she had Jevin make until the bodies rip in half. She decapitates one with a swift swing and turns around, ducking and rolling, before throwing molten blades into the chests of three more. The slime sizzles and burns, as hot as her anguish. 

At the sidelines, Wels watches as he buffs out the dents on his armor. He scrubs the metal till he can see his reflection in it, and then a little more. Trying to rub out the memories of the chess game, the dark magic that had trapped them in the sick game. 

Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango are together as always. But rather than trying to find trouble, all three sit on a haybale, just watching the animals of Zed’s farm. Tango twirls a stick full of leaves, much to the annoyance of the goat at his feet, eyes distant. Zedaph has been having a sleepover in their part of False’s forge, not wanting to leave his friend’s side. Not after knowing who killed their last guild. He doesn’t want to lose them as well. Impulse has no energy to be his bubbly, happy self. He feels like a cannon with a wet fuse, unable to light up and explode outward. Instead, he just mindlessly runs his fingers through the woolen fur of the sheep chewing on his clothes. 

Grian and Mumbo sit on the open windows of the angel’s house. Just watching the sun rise into an afternoon sun across the sea. They say nothing, a rare silence from Grian and even Mumbo. The two friends have nothing to say. They won the championship, but Grian still feels the horror of watching Mumbo forced to move like a chess piece. A pawn, set forward and open to attack. He knew he should have trusted TFC, but in the moment all he could think of was losing his best friend. 

Exiting his cave, TFC feels the oppressive mood in the air. He feels like he’s underground in Gildara again. That sense of hopelessness, that dampening weight on his shoulders. The guildmaster looks around, looks at his team, his island. A storm rolls in the distance, likely to come by evening and bless the island with life giving rain. But the hermits are like wilting flowers. Crumpled, lacking the color and life they normally carry with pride. Even the rainbow flags of the guild hall look muted. 

TFC hates this feeling, this suspension. Waiting for something to break, something to happen. If it won’t happen, he’ll make it happen. TFC picks up a stone from the mouth of his cave home, feeling the weight of the stone as he wanders to Xisuma’s tower. It’s a good piece of granite, a nice heavy weight without being too strong or sharp. It’s perfect for his plan. He rests the stone in his dominant hand, looking up at Xisuma’s tower, the gleaming telescope at the peak of the building. 

And he throws the stone. It clatters against Xisuma’s windowsill, rattling the metal frame but not breaking the glass. The stone falls, and he does it again. And again. Halfway through reeling back for a third throw, the window finally opens. X ducks just in time to miss getting a rock to the head. “What in the name of the gods are you doing?”

“Group meeting. Round up the others.” TFC crosses his arms, looking up at the wizard in the tower. 

“What? Why?” Xisuma sighs, but pulls on his mask all the same. It’s too bright for him right now. 

“If no one else is going to change the world, then we will.” TFC growls, then walks away. He motions for team ZIT to follow, and even dares to get between False and her training to call her to the guild hall. The open air space, enclosed only by clawlike stones and a ring of younger oak trees beneath the massive, entangling branches of the centerpiece, quickly fills with hermits. Sitting at the tables, Cleo tries to ease some of the tension with her good mead. But even Cleo’s best brews taste like swill right now. 

The last to arrive was Grian. Iskall was practically dragging him by the cloak into the guild hall, across the wooden grains of the floor, across the twining knot of birch and dark oak. Once the architechs were seated, Iskall and Grian with their own mugs of mead, TFC looks at the guild before him. 

He sighs, shaking his head. “I know what we faced was grim. I couldn’t imagine what it felt like to be you guys, forced to be pawns in Dolios’s sick game.” TFC notices False’s hands ball into fists at the mention of his name. “Especially to be moved by me, I wish I could’ve thought of a better way to stop him. 

“But we went to Milliara to discover who the dark mage was. We did that, and more. Dolios thought he could scare us, silence us. Make us turn on each other, make us choose who was more important and who wasn’t. But we’re not just a guild- we’re a family. It was terrible, but we got through it only because we worked as a team.” 

Silence meets TFC’s words. None of the hermits answer him. Normally, he struggles to get his guild to stay quiet for more than a minute. He feels he would have better luck teaching toddlers than talking to this lot. And it makes TFC’s stomach burn like magma to be able to hear rustling leaves, the distant bleat of a sheep. 

“And he’s winning.” He growls, looking at them all. “Look at us! Silent, still! Wallowing in what’s happened while Dolios is continuing to steal magic for his own nefarious desires! He’s winning, because we are doing nothing!” 

“What can we do?” Jevin sneers, leaning back. “We’re nobodies. An outlaw guild of misfits. We don’t have the power like the king, the prestige like a legal guild.” 

“That’s exactly why we can do it! We have our freedom, our strength in being beyond all that. If no one else will stop Dolios, if no one else can stop Diolios, then we should. Look at us,” TFC waves around as hermits pick up their heads. “We’re victors of the Chimaera’s Championship. We have more power and strength in this one hall than most guilds have in their entire history. We have a variety of magic and the creative minds to wield powers. To weave unlike magics into something greater.” 

“Why us, though?” Even Xisuma is sitting up, though his voice still has a twinge of doubt and exasperation. 

“If we don’t, who will?” The guildmaster looks around, seeing a spark return to the crowd. Thank Artyne, they’re finally talking over him again. “We know who the dark mage is, we know how to break a crystal, we’re not afraid of breaking a few rules! We may not be the heroes Lairyon needs, but we’re the only ones who can do it.” 

The surge of pride and power shocks across the hermits. A coy grin parts Doc’s hybrid face, sharp teeth revealed and glinting in the hot summer sunlight. Ren’s tail is wagging so fast it’s smacking Stress and Joe with each hemisphere completed. And TFC knows he’s gotten them hooked when he sees angelic feathers plume out from a gremlin smirk on Grian’s face. 

TFC pulls out a map from the nook in a tree, brushing an acorn aside that was stashed along with it. Using now empty mugs from Iskall and Grian, he unfurls the map and gazes at the crescent shaped continent that is Lairyon. He pulls out a piece of charcoal, and sketches four marks on the map. One where Gildara was, a diamond shape that is matched with one in Milliara. But the one in Milliara is crossed out. Danes and their home island get swirls, neither crossed out. “We know of four events that for certain included dark magic. In Milliara, we were successful in breaking the crystal.” He taps on the x-marked diamond. “Unfortunately, we can’t be certain if those husk storms will reappear in Danes or here.” 

“We should gather information. Listen in to town gossip, meet with contacts, just try and find any stories that match what we saw.” Cleo hums, running her dead fingers along the map. “Go all across Lairyon, destroy any crystals and do our best to weaken Dolios.” 

“And try to find a way to stop his reign once and for all.” Doc adds, his voice growling. 

“We need every hermit in on this job.” TFC looks at the map, eyes alighting on Crystalla. Wels came back- it’s time for the other hermits to come home. “Joe, send a message to xB, Hypno, and Beef. Tell them that the Order of Hermits are fighting to take back Lairyon.”

[shadowgeist-stars]

Vitam et Mortem: Divine Pride

A small gift for Pride Month before June ends. I probably should've come up with this earlier, but hey, I hope you enjoy it regardless.

Bridget had wanted to show Emily her new favorite part of June for years since they first began. After all the time they spent together for the last five or six centuries, she found it quite fun to introduce the otherwise reclusive Mother Nature to all the things she otherwise ignored among the mortals.

But this particular celebration wasn't just a joyous occasion for herself. Many lost spirits and even deities from all over the world rejoiced at the celebration of their own way of love and life.

From the gods of ancient Mesopotamia, to the far-flung rainbow serpents of Australia, to the hidden deities in China and Japan, to Bridget's own neighboring Loas and other divine friends in the Americas. The jubilee expressed by the immortals could only be matched, let alone surpassed, by that of the humans. Finally, all of the unfortunate people who lost themselves for the sake of their own hearts wouldn't have died in vain. All of the poor children close to that edge had something to look forward to.

"Come on, Emily, it's this way!" she called, leading her companion by the hand. "I promise you'll love it!"

Mother Nature chuckled, following the winged girl as quickly as she could. "This is the most excited I've seen you in the past few centuries. Have you met another holiday spirit?"

Bridget shrugged. "Not exactly. But I think you'll especially love it. It can't be much further now."

They stopped when they reached a crowd of people down the road.

Marching through the street was a parade of celebration. Flags of many bright color combinations littered the area. Some were blue, purple and pink. Some were pastel pink and blue and white. But a great many of the flags and all-encompassing banners -- and there were so, so many of them -- were all the colors of the rainbow.

"Bridget, my dear… what on Earth is this?"

Before her eyes, the rainbow painted itself over Bridget's otherwise black cloak. Strips of each color encircled her long cloak in luminous, vibrant hues. Shades of deep bright pink and fiery red orange sought out her shoulder cape, imitating one of the proudly-waving flags in the parade with black between each stripe. Emily soon learned exactly what it meant, as many couples in the parade embraced one another without fear or shame.

"It's a celebration of people like us," the redhead explained, no less than sheer jubilee on her face. "You once showed me how many animals are able to love in the same way we do. And according to the older gods, mortals who were the same way never had such a chance to be themselves since before the Dark Ages. Now that they have that chance again… isn't it beautiful?"

Emily did remember showing her all that. From birds of all kinds to various cats and other mammals to even insects and fish, and a whole lot more. The colors around her and the light in Bridget's eyes and all over her cloak… it truly was a sight to behold.

"It's wonderful," she replied simply. "Absolutely gorgeous. I've never seen anything like it."

They joined the parade like it was the most natural thing in the world. Following families and children greeted the two, as did many more immortals who began to appear. The children were laughing and dancing together with the other immortals, sporting their own flags.

"Lovely day for a parade, ladies," greeted a man in a multicolored tribal outfit framed with various flowers. "I'm certain I saw someone handing out Sapphic flags. Just watch for the usual, ahem… intruders."

"Thanks so much, Xochipilli," Bridget thanked the stranger. "I'm sure Emily would love that."

He smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day that the infamous Mother Nature would appear here. I'll tell the others; all of your Loa friends are bound to be nearby, and they'll love hearing about this."

Emily was confused by the names. "Who was he talking about?"

"My Voodoo-related associates," Bridget explained. "Many of them like both men and women, so they'll almost definitely be sporting pink-purple-and-blue flags like those over there. Though it takes a trained eye to know who’s who with the outfits they wear.

“Xochipilli is Aztec, and one of the few gods in that group with a decent amount of common sense. Back in his hayday, he was the god of games, the arts, and flowers, as well as the patron of people like a lot of the mortals here. Really nice guy, but I wish I could say the same about some of his friends.”

Emily chuckled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Are there others like the ones you mentioned?”

The redhead nodded. “Lots of others, all over the world. They’re all probably having a blast at parades on their home turf just like this one. Oh look, there’s the flag Xochi was talking about!”

The flag in question was actually quite darling. It had two pastel pink stripes around one that was white, with a pretty little violet directly in the center. The person beside the girl handing such flags out was handing out flowers of all kinds.

Bridget went for the flower person, taking a violet before flying up to plant it above Emily’s ear, adding on a kiss on the cheek.

The swell of warmth in her chest from the gesture caused the violet to spread into a crown on her head.

The Grim Reaper giggled. “Now it looks even prettier. It suits you!”

Emily sighed at her reaction, but eventually couldn’t help a smile. At least until she noticed the white-robed and white-winged people hovering above a different crowd. They glared at the celebration as they stood guard over the yelling people holding some… rather rude signs.

Her beloved noticed her expression. “What’s wrong?” Bridget followed her gaze, lifting off the ground a little for a better view.

Angels. And a whole lot of their own downline.

“Oh, for the love of vultures…” she muttered under her breath as she pulled her scythe out of her shadow. “Ignore them, Em. They should know by now that they can’t do much of anything without getting people upset.”

“Is that… normal of them?” asked the dark-haired woman.

“Very,” the redhead replied with a sigh, leading Emily away from the protestors. “Their minions love to say that living the way we do isn’t natural and that it’s corrupting their children. All because they like to listen to the one who commands those angels. We just call them the usual intruders. I think I’ve already told you how troublesome they are to my fellow death spirits.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” She noticed how the blade of Bridget’s scythe shined with iridescent colors. “Hm, even your weapon appears to have gotten into the spirit of the celebration.”

“There’s a reason for that, actually.” With a snap of her fingers, Bridget unveiled a slew of visiting wandering souls in the broad daylight. So many of them floated around in groups, like the other immortals in the parade had called them here. Many bore dark scars that only occurred among souls who sought their own destruction in life. “These are all of the people in just this area who lived the same way as all of these mortals, in worlds that didn’t allow them, or hearts that no longer wanted to beat.”

Emily gazed upon each spirit, seeing the joy and peace on each and every spectral face in the procession. “This is far more than the joy of the living... it’s also a comfort for the dead.”

Bridget could see the angels daringly lean towards the ghosts from above their followers, and firmly tapped her scythe against the ground. All of the ghosts turned their attention to the Reaper, and to those she glared at. The protesters faltered, as if perhaps they had seen her standing there. Either way, they knew better than to test an emissary of death with her albeit passive army, so she’d count that much as a win. So did the ghosts, who peacefully returned to their own mingling.

Fingers found their way into soft, owlish feathers. “Where did you learn that trick?”

Bridget’s smile returned with a chuckle. “The Valkyries have shown me how they command their soldiers a few times. Angels are a pretty popular overarching reason as to why the ghosts around here have perished. It's just a matter of setting off the alarm. They know better than to trust what killed them."

A couple of the children seemed more than a bit intimidated by the parade's protesters, regardless of their dropping momentum. "Come with me, Em. Forget the angels and their little friends. This is a time for celebration."

Mother Nature was quite willing to comply, her leaf-bearing winds gently guiding the children away from the scary people like large, caring hands. As they went on with the parade, the two eventually grew more cheerful again. More immortals dropped by to meet them, such as Nibo, one of the Loas Bridget mentioned earlier; Oua Oua, a higher-ranking Loa who led the children, also said hello. Several "Voodoo" figures made appearances, really, and all of them offered nothing but coos and congratulations.

It certainly made it a far more lively experience than Burning Man, where they usually wandered about largely unseen. But oddly enough, it wasn't quite unpleasant. Emily enjoyed meeting so many wonderful divine friends. Seeing Bridget's multicolored stripes grow brighter, and her hair shining in the sun like fire, against eyes so pale silver in the daylight they almost looked pure white, was a simply mesmerizing experience.

Near the end of the parade, Emily had discovered a work of art made entirely from flowers; an entire wall of words shaped with roses of every color. Red, orange, yellow, green, even blue and purple. She used her power to grow out a bouquet of separate lavender roses, with a little help from Xochipilli. After which she gently wove each flower into Bridget's lovely wings and hair, pale and beautiful against her bright red locks and dark gold feathers. Bridget was delighted at the gift; something she knew Emily would most certainly do.

"Now you look even prettier,” she said warmly, parroting the reaper's words. “It suits you.”

The look she got in response was so full of affection… Emily could feel it taking something else from her chest aside from her breath. Bridget floated to her eye level, cupping the taller spirit's face between her hands.

"I think you deserve a thank-you for it."

With that, she leaned in for a kiss.

Emily’s heart filled with a familiar, welcoming fire at the soft and warm touch of Bridget’s lips, yet entirely new and exciting. A wild and joyful tune, yet sung in the tone of a lullaby. Miniature earthquakes rattled through her body, and she felt like she was floating. Her hands started flexing and lifting up on instinct, until they dug into the soft down between the reaper’s shoulders, pulling her closer. The flower-decorated wings swung low, the ends of the joints resting on her sides.

A moment meant to last forever.

“Ah, young love. Truly a beautiful thing.”

“It’s like something straight out of those romantic fairy tales.”

The two voices startled the two from their reverie. Bridget sank to the ground with a face as red as her hair; given the fiery heat that went from her heart to her face, Emily probably wasn’t much better.

“Lundy! Limba! You ruined the moment!” scolded Èrzulie Dantòr, batting the two men away with dark-skinned hands. “Out, out, and away, boys, before you ruin their mood any more! Shoo!”

Bridget giggled at the sight of the Loas. “I take it you enjoyed that, Emily?”

Mother Nature cleared her throat, smiling down at her sheepishly. “I suppose I did. Though I… can’t say I expected to… Will there be other parades like this in the future?”

“Of course!” She took her hand as they prepared to return to the realm they shared. “It’s an entire month out of every year that celebrations just like this will occur. Why? Do you want to go to another one?”

Emily chuckled, mustering the courage to kiss the top of her head. “Perhaps…”

To see such colors like those still lingering on the Grim Reaper’s cloak… To feel such childlike glee she hadn’t experienced in millennia… Mother Nature could hardly wait for the next adventure outside of her fog.

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 17

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Violence! Blood!

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

Massive crowds where gathered in the campgrounds. Tents of all sizes, large and small, some several stories high others not, some with flagpoles bearing banners and flags of either Irish green or Bulgarian red. Lively music was being played and brooms whizzed above the heads of the Lestranges and the only Saintday as they walked by aweing at the sights.

The Quidditch World Cup was, alike most of the magical world, absolutely unbelievable. Drunks cheered in the streets with painted faces showing their team pride. Nel had wanted to paint her face Irish Green but Cloelia had slapped her hands away at the simple mentioning of it. Instead she had been cohered into wearing a clean face with dark gray formal dress that resembled a coat and seemed to reach right above her knees matched with a pair of pointy witch boots. Her guardian insisted proper attire would be essential if they were to be in the presence of the Minister of Magic himself Cornelius Fudge.

Elowen’s dark eyes scanned the crowd as she sought out any familiar trace of her friends. Tracey had said they would be by the Press tent. It took her some time to spot them not far from the entrance to the stadium.

“I’m going to go say hi to my friends,” she said to the Lestranges. Both shot her a disapproving look. “Want to come?” She asked Ellar with hopeful eyes and a broad smile.

“No,” he shot down coldly before walking into the stadium disinterested. She frowned a little at his cold response.

“Don’t be long,” Cloelia said before turning and following after her son.

Nel crossed a maze of people dodging drunks and loud cheering individuals until she reached the trio standing just outside of the tent. She tapped Theo’s shoulder and he turned around giving her a confused look.

It took him a moment to realize it was his friend tapping his shoulder and not a stranger. “Nel?” He asked eyes going wide at the realization.

The long shaggy bangs and choppy hair were gone. So were the oversized worn clothes she would wear. Before the group stood someone, who seemed to look like what polished young lady in sophisticated Pureblood Society would look like.

Tracey turned around and was less discrete about her shock.

“Holy smokes! What happened to you?” She asked in awe, still tackling her friend into a hug.

“What are you talking about?” The orphan responded cluelessly in the embrace. “I told you, I got adopted,” she simply shrugged.

“Seems like manners aren’t the only things the Lestrange have instilled in you,” Daphne butted eyeing the girl’s new fashion from head to toe. She herself was wearing something similar. Of course she knew about her adoption, it seemed like most individuals belonging to the same social circle as the Lestranges were well aware.

Nel still found it odd that Greengrass had been invited in her spot when she wrote to her friends saying she’d simply meet them at the game.

“Manners, schmanners. Who cares if your finger is up or down when you’re having a drink?” she said reaching from some green paint from Tracey’s face and smearing it on her cheek.

Theodore was about to say something when someone bumped into him from behind purposely making him briskly stumble forward.

“Oi!” Nel shouted loudly before shoving back the individual foully. “Watch it!” She threatened.

Blaise Zabini who was towering above them gaped at the girl who had just threatened him. “Saintday?” He asked in awe. The mark on her exposed face- impossible to confuse. It was her, but at the same time it wasn’t. She looked like the type of girl he would see at a Yule dinner with his family or in the company of Daphne Greengrass, which might make sense to him as to why the young witch was there.

“Move it along Zabini!” She snapped turning away from him.

The teen left.

“Classic Saintday,” Theodore said with a slight smirk. Like Zabini he seemed to have also grown a couple of inches over the summer. His curly hair longer, features sharper.

“Well,” Daphne added. “I think you look very nice Elowen,” she complimented brushing her perfect hair back over her shoulder. “We should go find out seats,” Tracey said almost gushing to walk into the massive arena. “Your seat shouldn’t be far from ours.”

The group nodded before making their way inside.

“Meet here afterwards?” Nel said to the group signaling to the spot in front of the Press tent. “Uh, perhaps not,” Daphne said in an uneasy voice. “My father wants me home right after the game.”

“Yeah, same here,” Theo added in the same quiet tone.

She flashed them both a confused look. Home? Why would they go home when the party was about to get started? She turned to look at Tracey with hopeful eyes.

“I’m going to take some pictures with my dad afterwards,” She explained. “Maybe next time?”

Nel soon reached the private viewing box where she would be sitting. She had to pass several security checks but was allowed through. She spotted her guardians across the large viewing box conversing with whom she assumed to be the Minister of Magic.

Ellar was standing by the rail his eyes lazily following some of the whizzing fireworks that were shot from one side of the pitch to the other. He looked so cool. Distracted by starring at the older teen she almost crashed into Lucius Malfoy. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise that he was here. Standing next to him was a woman with pointy face features whom Nel could only assume was his wife. Her appearance was eerily similar to his. Even strands of her dark hair (which at this point was mostly blonde) were colored in that same tone of platinum blonde. She couldn’t distinct if it was natural or not.

“Mr. Malfoy,” She nodded towards the man civilly.

Lucius was intimidatingly polite as he usually was to her. His grey eyes instantly starred at the moles that dotted her face. Something the man never seemed to miss. It was unnerving really the way he blatantly starred in such a rude manner. His grey eyes made her want to flinch under his stare. “Elowen Saintday,” He greeted. “Or should I address you as Lestrange now?” He looked down at her with much disdain. She had a feeling he knew of her unclaimed status and of course about her impromptu adoption over the summer holiday.

“Saintday will do,” She responded curtly.

The woman was staring at her just like Lucius was. Nel couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as her eyes raked from the headband on top of her head all the way down to the pointy tip of her boots. Even her fingertips and black nail polish weren’t exempt from her judgement. She was looking at Nel as if she was an insect. She couldn’t distinct if she was an insect to be squashed or ogled at.

“This is my wife Narcissa,” he introduced placing a hand on his wife’s lower back.

Narcissa wore a curious smile, one that edged higher at one corner of her mouth just like her sons usually did.

Nel instinctively extended a hand forward one which was left unshaken leaving her to awkwardly close it and lower it. “Charmed,” she simply responded. The teen nodded politely biting her tongue to prevent her from making a snarky comment. She wanted to seem cool and sophisticated, especially in front of Ellar.

“Pleasure is all mine,” She responded poshly, like she had been instructed to do countless of times by Cloelia.

“I understand you’re in my son Draco’s year. He has mentioned you once or twice.”

‘When I turned his head into a balloon? Or when I set him on fire at Hogsmeade?’ She wondered which of the two it could’ve been. No wonder the woman didn’t like her. The slightest of smug smirks tugging at the edges of Nel’s mouth.

From the other side of the sitting box a pair of ears caught his name. Draco Malfoy turned and saw Nel Saintday out of all people conversing with his parents. He swaggered towards them hoping his parents hadn’t taken the luxury of embarrassing him yet. She looked at him and seemed a little surprised by his massive growth spur, he was now almost as tall as is father, easily a head taller than her. Neat blond hair parted to the side and wearing a crisply ironed black suit. He hadn’t held back on the cologne either.

He didn’t comment on her appearance unlike the other Slytherins.

“Just once or twice,” He interrupted cooly composing himself at his mother’s slip. The edge of his mouth turning up just like his mother’s did.

“Draco,” She simply acknowledged him by name. Which was weird. She had never called him that before but if she called him Malfoy, she was afraid all three would turn to face her. Without another word she raised her brows at him, like he usually did to her, and brushed past him excusing herself. “So, that’s her,” Narcissa hummed more to herself, her eyes still glued to the back of the teen’s head.

Of course, she had heard her husband speak about Elowen Saintday more than more or twice. Draco had also written home about her more than once. Usually complaining about the unbearable witch that was so bloody good at charms and constantly made his head swell up like a balloon. Judging from the daggers he was shooting at the back of her head as she greeted Ellar Lestrange, she presumed she still had the ability to crawl under her son’s skin.

“The Girl Who Died?” She whispered to Lucius who in return gave her a silencing glare. Still with a sly smirk Narcissa turned to her son. “You never mentioned she was quite pretty Draco.”

That’s because she wasn’t. Draco didn’t know why he couldn’t tear his eyes away. That person was not Nel Saintday. That person shaking Cornelius Fudge’s hand nodding in agreement, slightly laughing at a bad joke the man said.

“What do you intend to do with your future Ms. Saintday?” “I’m keeping my options open,” She admitted. “I have been considering Curse Breaking as a career.”

Draco mused to himself as he eavesdropped. He would’ve never guessed that. His best guess would’ve been Dueling Master like Professor Flitwick.

She was now standing next to Ellar. Both leaning over the railing leaning forward to look at the Quidditch pitch. Smiling at each other and pointing at different fireworks and lights on the sky.

Well mannered. Posh. Well behaved. Hair neatly groomed for what appeared to be the first time in her life. His parents might have missed it, but Draco didn’t miss the smudged green paint on her face. He felt himself cringe when he saw that Lestrange wanker lick his thumb and wipe the paint away making her face turn red.

He wanted to push him off the balcony rail.

The French git left for a moment.

Nel was too busy gawking at the dancing leprechauns that were making it rain Irish gold over the people in the stands that she didn’t notice the youngest Malfoy creeping up on her side.

“You know I speak French too,” he said hands deep in his pockets. She turned to give him a funny look. “Fluently,” he added proudly.

“So?” She arched an eyebrow and couldn’t help but eye him oddly. So, he was bilingual and knew how to play the violin. Big deal. So what?

“It’s not impressive. That’s all I’m saying,” he sneered in the direction of the dark-haired boy, glaring daggers at his back as he helped himself to some beer.

“You sound jealous,” She smirked at him and he couldn’t help but scowl at her accusation. “Almost as if you want to be him,” she poked a second time.

“Why-,” He laughed mockingly. “Would I ever want to be that French git?”

She brought a hand to her chin and loudly hummed as if in deep in thought. “Let’s see,” she began. “He’s refined, actually polite, fun – and doesn’t need to be a pompous arse to be liked!” She slapped his chest with a paper pamphlet she was holding.

He grabbed the Quidditch pamphlet and threw it over his shoulder without any care. “Ever considering a career in stand-up comedy Saintday?” He laughed dryly. “At least I haven’t gotten expelled from Hogwarts.”

She finally turned to look at him. A surprised look on her face. He floundered in the moment knowing this would strike a nerve. “Expelled?” She asked for some clarification blinking twice.

“Oh?” He grinned pleased. This was always the best way to get her attention. Nel Saintday was like a dog with a bone when it came to unanswered questions and other mysteries; He knew she wouldn’t let go of until she had an answer. “He never mentioned he attended Hogwarts?” He pressed. Had he? She scanned her few thoughts and memories of Ellar. He had never mentioned he had attended Hogwarts, but why wouldn’t he? He had nothing to hide, right?

“You’re lying,” She narrowed her eyes in mistrust.

Ellar approached from behind sipping on a pint of beer despite being both underage and in the presence of the Ministry of Magic himself.

“Am I?” Draco leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. She looked at him with wariness. “Also,” He raised both of his brows innocently at her before leaning in closer to her ear. “Bulgaria is going to conquer. Krum’s got it in the bag,” he whispered before returning to his family.

She seethed glaring at the back of his blond head strongly fighting the urge to make it swell like a giant air balloon.

“What’d he want?” Ellar asked curiously as he sipped on his beer.

She let out a sharp snort and turned her attention to the starting game. “Nothing important,” she grumbled.

The crowd cheered loudly as five green and white figures flew through the air on brooms leaving behind a trail of emerald and white. A large glittering leprechaun appeared in the sky and. Began Irish dancing. Excitement was in the air. “Good evening!” The announced began. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome each and every one of you to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup. Let the match begin!”

xxxxx

The game was exhilarating. Nel who had never particularly enjoyed Quidditch had a blast. Being in the pitch was a completely different experience.

Everybody in the Ministry of Magic’s box was completely composed and boringly clapped whenever a point was scored. Nel on the other hand behaved as if she was in a chicken coop loudly cheering and passionately jumping with every point Ireland scored.  

At some point she heard Draco cheer, but he cleared his throat and composed himself pretending to be disinterested in the game.

She wished she had watched the game with Tracey and Theodore but overall Nel had a good time. By the end of it she was being aggressive over the Irish victory over Bulgaria.

Ellar seemed upset by Bulgaria’s loss. He almost spilled most of his drink on the poor people below the viewing box.

“That was really something!” She cheered matching the step of the older teen as they made their way out of the stadium. “Did you see how Krum and Lynch both dived for the snitch? For a moment there I really thought Lynch was going to beat him to it!”  

“1990 World Cup was better,” he griped with an irritated look on his striking features. She couldn’t tell if he was more annoyed or slightly buzzed from all the beers he’d had. There were a pair of Irish fans descending down the stairs above loudly cheering and chanting Ireland. They looked down at the snobbish people in the Minister’s box. “Irish pride!” They cheered loudly.

Carried away by the spirit Elowen cheered back just as enthusiastically

“Stop acting so ridiculous,” He shot her a silencing glare.

Ellar was… odd. One moment he was completely charming kissing her hand, making her laugh, wiping paint off from her face, slipping her some wine when his mother wasn’t looking. But other times he had emotional shifts like this in which he would completely shut down and shut her out. Nel piped down and grew silent. She wanted Ellar to fancy her. She wanted to make him laugh and wanted him to hold her hand and kiss it and bring her flowers for no reason like she had seen in some movies back at Wool’s.

“You got lucky Saintday,” She didn’t even turn to acknowledge Malfoy who was walking at her side ready to press all of her buttons. “What a game,” He said again sinking his hands into his pockets.

“I should’ve bet with you. Would’ve made a pretty galleon or two.” He let out a humorous huff, “Pocket change,” He answered pretentiously.

She rolled her eyes at his response. Classic Malfoy. “Who says we still can’t bet?” He challenged. “Oh yeah?” This piquet her interest. Nel was extremely cautious with her limited spending. The uncertainty of the future didn’t allow her to misspend even a single Sickle. But if she could swindle Malfoy out of some “pocket change” that would be ideal. “What do you want to bet on?” “How far that frog’s stick is up his arse?” He nudged in Ellar’s direction. She chortled slightly and hit his arm lightly laughing. He wasn’t wrong. “He’s just… bitter,” She excused his behavior shaking her head with a slight frown on her brow.

“Rumor is that Viktor Krum and the Durmstrang Institute will be on Hogwarts’ grounds this year because of the Triwizard Tournament. I bet you I can get him to sit with me in the Slytherin table.”

It was true. She had been hearing Cloelia and Ellar talk about the Triwizard Tournament which Hogwarts would be hosting this year. From what she had heard Durmstrang and Beauxbaton being the two other largest Magic Schools in Europe would also be participating in it. “Bet,” She agreed.

“Two galleons,” he stated the amount they would be gambling on. “Two galleons?” She coughed back incredulously at the amount. That was about the equivalent of ten pounds or ten dollars. “I thought this was pocket change for you Malfoy.”

“I don’t want to swindle you too bad when I win,” he added arrogantly. Already acting as if he had it in the bag. “Fine,” She muttered in agreement before lightly hitting his arm once again. He simpered faintly at the gesture.

They were about to reach the exit when Lucius Malfoy turned back and gave his son a commanding look to keep up. His black cane being raised as he led the way. “Unlike you, I have been invited to the Bulgarian Team’s tent. Personal invitation from Headmaster Igor Karkaroff himself,” he bragged self-importantly. Of course, he already had a head start on their bet. The sly bastard would be rubbing shoulders with Krum himself all evening. Nel wasn’t impressed by his invitation. Having sat through a painful viewing of the most exciting event of the year with a load of bores she figured the Bulgarians probably weren’t that fun either.

“You’re the worst.” She stated dully.

“See you at school,” He said dismissingly with a typical eyebrow raise before going after his family.

Outside of the stadium Ellar was still upset. He hadn’t said another word since he had snapped at Nel to stop acting childishly or ridiculously, she couldn’t remember what adjective he had used. Cloelia walked with her back straight, head held up high. She almost seemed like she was in a rush to get out of here.

The outside was even livelier and more than it had been earlier in the day. The Irish really had their spirit on cheering, toasting and drinking to their team. Vibrant green fireworks and light whizzes flew up into the night sky.

“Can we stay?” Nel asked excitedly still looking at her surroundings in awe almost like a child in a fair.

“Let’s get out of here,” Her guardian simply dismissed her request.

She frowned slightly and was about to beg Cloelia to stay for a little bit longer. “I’m going to take care of some stuff mother,” Ellar said ominously he was already walking away when Nel stepped in his way. “Can I go with you?” She asked excitedly twirling a strand of her brown hair in between her fingers. Knowing him he was probably going to party or find some of his Beauxbaton classmates and continue drinking.

He looked at her hard and seemed irritated. He sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “No,” he said without any hint emotion before moving her body back to where his mother was standing. Again, she frowned at this.

“Can I go with him? Please?” she asked his mother begging for any excuse to stay behind and party. After all, how often was one at the World Quidditch Cup? Even then it only happened every four years.

“Come on Elowen,” Cloelia said imperatively and turned away.

She had to go home but Ellar got to stay and party? It wasn’t fair. He looked so upset, he probably wouldn’t even enjoy it! She would!

With a sharp exhale and no choice, she followed after her guardian. Nel only gave a couple of steps when she heard two familiar voices. “Could it be?” “Is it really?”

She felt a tug on both of her shoulders and was spun only to see the Weasley twins looking at her excitedly. Both were wearing green Leprechaun hats and wore their clothes and faces painted in green and white in full Irish Team spirit.

“We almost didn’t recognize you!” George said. At least who she thought was George she sometimes had a hard time telling them apart.

“We said who’s that girl? Could it be?” Fred said walking around her. “No, Nel Saintday wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a dress in public,” He teased tugging at the fabric of her clothes. “Who are you here with?” The younger twin asked. “Any other snakes hiding in the tallgrass?” George joked.

She discretely glanced over her shoulder and saw that Cloelia had realized she wasn’t following and was looking around the crowd looking for her.

“No one,” She lied swiftly.

She had often heard Cloelia mocking the “Blood Traitor” Weasleys and laughing at how weak the Prewet family was. She certainly wouldn’t approve of their company and the Weasley’s probably wouldn’t get along with her new guardians.

“We’re about to head back to the tent and celebrate! Want to come?”

Without looking back she locked elbows with them and pulled them away before Cloelia could spot them. Both of them cheered loudly as they dived into the crowd. Vanishing just in time before her guardian could find her.

School started in a week what would be the worst punishment she could do to her during that time? The consequences would be worth it. She couldn’t help but laugh as she followed them back to the rest of their group.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, a man whom Nel presumed to be Weasley Sr. judging by his red hair and age and Ginny, their younger sister, were all waiting for the twins. Another man was with them and Hufflepuff’s gem, Cedric Diggory. There wasn’t a Hogwarts student that didn’t know his name or who he was. Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Team Captain, Seeker, Prefect and dashingly handsome also known as Prettyboy Diggory. The boy was practically perfect. He was the type of Prefect most girls prayed to run into in the school’s corridor’s at night.

“Nel?” She snapped out of her daydream when Harry caught her attention. “What are you doing here?” He asked his friend.

She greeted everyone cheerily. More cheerily and excited than anyone had probably ever seen her, almost giddy. “Why go home? Party is barely getting started right?” She said excitedly rambling over her words and ignoring Harry’s question.

Really – what was the worst thing that Cloelia could do to her? Part of her was also hoping to run into Ellar tonight. Maybe he’d be in better spirits then. Maybe the two could share a pint?

“You must be the Slytherin girl,” Mr. Weasley greeted her politely stretching his hand out. A stark contrast to the Malfoys she had met earlier in the day. “Pleasure is all mine Mr. Weasley,” She spoke to him with the same respect she had shown the Ministry of Magic himself. “Nel will do.”

Ron’s sister Ginny was actually really cool. Nel had never had a conversation with her before. Then again, most students tended to avoid her like the plague, seeing as she had been branded as Slytherin’s heir due to being possessed by Voldemort only two years ago. Even Granger was more bearable or maybe Elowen was just in an elated mood. Less hostile. More open to others.

The group was all celebrating inside of the Weasley’s small tent. The tent might have been small but inside it was warm and comforting decorated with used furniture and warm tones of red and orange. It was what Nel had always imagined being in the Gryffindor Common Room would be like.

They had all been so welcoming to her. She had never really felt quite at home like in this moment. She was jealous of the Weasley’s they had a caring father, and each other, more than a handful of brothers and sisters to rely and love. They were a real family.

Laughing and cheering could probably be heard from the outside as the twins mocked Ron over his obsession for the Bulgarian Seeker.

There were no tables that kicked you inside here, nobody that minded your manners, nobody watching your mouth or what went inside of it, how you sat, how you stood, how you fucking lived.

“There’s no one like Krum! He’s like a bird the way he rides the wind. He’s more than an athlete. He’s an artist!” Ron was standing on top of a chair literally preaching to the crowd about his devotion to the Seeker.

The twins were bumbling around him comically singing “KRUMMMM” Loudly. “Think you’re in love Ron?” Ginny teased tugging at her brother’s scarf. “Viktor I love you! Viktor I do!” George and Fred sang. Harry eventually joined. “Nel you’re crying,” Hermione pointed out. The Slytherin snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at her mug which held some warm apple cider only to see a stray tear land on it. “Oh, I didn’t realize,” She touched her wet face wiping away the few tears. “I just feel so at home,” She admitted sheepishly.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile a little. “I never did apologize for stunning you last year, did I?”

“When we’re apart my heart beats only for youuu!” The three males sang around a flustered Ron. Everybody in the tent laughed loudly, but not loud enough to lull over the sound of shouts from the outside.

“Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on,” Fred commented as he ceased to sing. “Stop! Stop it!” Mr. Weasley interrupted carefully listening. “It’s not the Irish. We’ve gotta get out of here. Now.”

The room growing silent as they listened to the outside screaming, but it wasn’t joyful it sounded more harrowing.

Jumping to their feet everybody crammed to get out of the tent only to enter a whirlwind of chaos.

Panicked people were running everywhere, left and or right with no sense of direction, stumbling over each other like savages. Horrifying, frightful screams echoed the fields. The air smelled like cinder and burning fire. As several tents were consumed by the flames. “Get back to the portkey everybody and stick together.” He instructed.

Dark figures in pointed hoods all wearing grim masks all holding flaming torches marches across the campsite chanting loud ominous noises. Destroying everything on sight with fire. Some had wands which levitated some individuals which were humiliatingly paraded across the camp.

Instantly the group took off running in one direction. Who were those people? Why wasn’t anybody doing anything about this?

Running away from the tent into safety Nel kept her eyes fixed on the back of Ron’s tall frame. Turning back, she realized that someone pushed into Harry.

“Harry!” She shouted stopping dead in her tracks. Heart caught in her throat. She looked around hoping and catch sight of the Gryffindor’s shaggy hair or red clothes.

Blurs of red and green flickered in her vision as she was violently pushed and eventually elbowed to the ground. Instinctively she covered her head with her hands and tucked in her knees into her body assuming a fetal position as she was trampled and stomped on.

She was alone. This was her fault. If she had only listened for once in her damned life. She highly doubted anybody was looking for her.

She should have listened to Cloelia. For the first time in her life she regretted not having listened to an adult. Painful tears slipped down her face as she was once again kicked in the stomach.

She was alone, laying on the ground, breathing heavily. Praying that the rush would be over. Her eyes were shut tightly. A whimper caught in her throat.

Elowen didn’t even realize when a hand reached for the front of her dress. Pulling her back up to her feet. Her eyes snapped open and she found herself paralyzed with fear as she came face to face with a mask of death. It was one of those wizards wearing a dark hood. The person was holding her up high so that her tiptoes barely grazed the muddy ground. Her breath strained as she looked down into the void eyes of the mask. Without another word the masked individual dropped her making her stumble back and once again fall on her behind. She couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Wonder in horrifying astonishment at the black hood that was standing before her.

No words were exchanged. If the person wanted to hurt, her it would’ve happened by now.

Not wanting to linger and find out if she was right or wrong, she ungracefully staggered on her feet and feeling sore and beaten she scampered the opposite way.

Her breathing was harsh, adrenaline pumping through her system as she kept on dodging people and continuously looking over her shoulder making sure that hood wasn’t following after her. Looking behind her she turned only to crash into something rigid and solid. She winced and held her head slightly dazed putting another hand on the flagpole she had just run into. Bringing a hand down she saw it was stained with blood.

Elowen was pressed up against the flagpole as masses of people ran by dodging her and the poll as they still escaped the campgrounds. Her eyes were wide with fear, mind turning over a proper spell that could save her.

“You? Merlin’s beard Saintday. Come on now!” Her head whipped back as she was pulled forward and back into the crowd with a strong momentum. A deathly tight grip on her wrist.

It could’ve been the devil himself and she would’ve followed him out of this hell.

“What are you doing here?” She shouted over the loud screaming again crashing into his back when he came to a sudden halt. He ignored her question and dodging desperate individuals led her out of the maze of burning tents.

The two Slytherins stumbled into another one of those dark hoods. Shrinking fearfully, she hid behind him holding on to his arm tightly.

The hood froze and looked past them.

“They won’t hurt us,” He said to her over his shoulder.

Malfoy was right. The hood seemed to move past them leaving them both unharmed. Taking an awry turn finally there seemed to be an open field in sight. Rushing towards it the two seemed to have made it out of the camp and into the plains.

Both were catching their breaths. Nel leaning her weight on her standing knees, a hand pressed against her bleeding brow.

Draco stood tall kept his eyes peeled for any sight of someone or something emerging from the crowds.

“You’re hurt,” he noted the bloody side of her face.

“What did you mean when you said they wouldn’t hurt us?”

How could he possibly know what those things were and the fact they would be spared from whatever evil intent they had planned.

“Let me see,” He stepped towards her, she stepped back almost tripping over her own feet. He caught her lower arm stabilizing her. “Let me see,” he commanded in a harsher tone, the grip on her lower arm tightening.  

She said nothing and whimpered as she lowered her hand. She could feel a cut of skin which had split right in the start of her eyebrow.

“There you are,” A third voice interrupted in a relieved tone.

Narcissa looked relieved as she apparated between the two teenagers. She didn’t give them a moment to explain herself before latching a hand into each of their shoulders and once again apparating away from the violent scene.

The next thing Nel knew was that everything went black; It was like when she apparated for the first time with Cloelia. She was pressed very hard from all directions as if being squeezed through a tube. The constricting feeling lasted for a moment before they appeared in the heart of a massive parlor room.

Narcissa let go of her and instantly turned grabbing her son’s face in her hands inspecting it for the slightest scratch or bruise. Feeling light-headed Nel leaned her weight on the arm of a sofa chair.

She took a minute to take in her surroundings. Polished dark wood floors, a massive and intricately carved fireplace made out of white marble, matching pillars holding up the high ceiling and a massive crystal chandelier hovering above them.

“Did they hurt you?” She was taken aback when she felt Narcissa’s hands on her face, brushing back her hair to better inspect her wound. Surprised by the gesture she took a solid moment to answer the witch. She figured she meant the dark hoods if anyone. “No,” She responded softly. “I ran into a flagpole.”

Nel saw the witch pull out her wand and point it at her.

“Scourgify,” She casted the charm which made the blood, mud and other grime vanish completely from the girl’s person. Again, pointing the wand, she raised it higher to her face. Nel winced slightly when it was inches away from her nose bracing herself for what may come. “Episkey.”

Her brow felt very hot and then very cold. Raising her hand to touch her forehead, the wound seemed to have magically closed.

The girl couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to have a mother. To have somebody undevoted care and watch over you like that.

“I’ll send for Clo. She’s probably mortified,” Narcissa straightened up. Not a speck of dust was on her, her appearance composed despite the havoc they had just escaped. “Sit,” She commanded before exiting the room. Nel did without a question dropping on the dark colored sofa that was next to her.

“What were you doing out there by yourself?” Malfoy stood before her hands in pockets as he began his interrogation. Like his mother he looked completely unharmed.

“What were you doing out there by yourself? I thought you were supposed to be rubbing shoulders with Krum,” She said holding on to her healed brow which still stung.

Draco had in fact been in the Bulgarian Quidditch Team’s tent. He had even gotten a Quidditch jersey signed by Krum and all of the other players. Of course, he had known about the attack that was coming. Both him and his mother had seen his father preparing for it earlier in the week. Lucius never spoke directly to the family about his affairs as a Death Eater. It was dangerous considering the consequences if somebody pried into his son’s untrained mind. Draco assumed that his father felt having an alibi would be beneficial for the family in case anybody came pointing fingers. Losing his mother on the way out, however, had not been part of the plan. Neither had been seeing Nel Saintday bleeding from the head pressed up against a flagpole in the middle of a stampede.

“I was,” he answered sharply. “Got lost.” He explained casually.

Both were silent for a moment. She looked away from him avoiding his perturbing gaze.

“Merlin, you can be so daft Saintday,” he ran a hand through his hair combing it back. “What were you thinking? Who knows what would’ve happened if I hadn’t found you.”

She would’ve probably stayed attached to that flagpole with an open wound and would’ve waited for the stampede to be over. Overall, she would’ve been fine. There was no need to act upon his savior complex. Or at least that’s what she thought. Who knows maybe one of those hoods wouldn’t have been as merciful to her.

“What did you mean…” She pondered more out loud to herself. “When you said they wouldn’t hurt us?”

Draco swallowed thickly and turned away pretending to be suddenly invested in the fire that was cracking only a couple of feet away from them.

He was relieved when his mother reentered the room with Cloelia who was frantically walking towards here. Face pale, eyes wide with panic. “There you are!” She scolded angrily reaching for the girl’s arm digging her nails into the fabric of her sleeve. Nel winced bracing herself for whatever would come when she returned home.

“T-Thank you,” She stammered weakly thanking the Malfoys who probably didn’t even hear her. Clo spoke rapidly about who knows what. Everything happened in a blur. The goodbye, the apparition back in the house of Lestrange and the slap to the face. “I specifically told you not to stray, yet you deliberately disobeyed me! Because of that I will make sure you don’t move anymore. Salazar’s Beard, you don’t know what would happen to me- to my family if anything happened to you.”

Nel quaked fearfully when she looked down and saw a thorny vine begin to snake around her ankle and up her leg.

“You will not move.”

Back at Malfoy Manor, Draco still stood before the fire. His mother behind him waving her wand at some muddy spots of the ground that needed to be cleaned.

“Mother,” Draco broke the silence the two had shared since Cloelia Lestrange and Elowen Saintday had apparated away. “Yes dear?” Narcissa turned her attention to her only son. His eyes were focused on a particular spot on the ground.

He couldn’t help but think about the special attentions the Lestrange’s had with Nel Saintday. They wouldn’t have taken just anyone in. Much less someone speculated to be a half-blood or lesser than them, and if they did it certainly wouldn’t be out of the kindness of their hearts. The strange behavior his father always displayed when the girl was around never sat well with him. The fact his mother had actually bothered to heal her wounds and acknowledge her.

“Who is Elowen Saintday?”

[risingsouls]

Conversations: 7

[This one is really short but really soft and cute. But also infuriating because it’s so soft and cute.]

Nabooru touched down in front of the modest capsule house that had sprung up a few miles further into the desert outside of the community where she and the rest of the Gerudo lived. Part of her hadn’t expected Vegeta to remain so close to them, half convinced he would take up residence in some other secluded part of the world such as the tundras he trained in once in a while. On the surface, the decision made sense. With the two of them still training together on a near daily basis, remaining close meant less travel and time wasted. However, when one could fly as fast as they could, neither of those things really mattered. The thought brought a small smile to her lips; perhaps he had become more attached to her than he let on.

Or maybe she simply hoped in a small way that was the case.

Neatly folded fabric topped by the pliable chest armor rested in her arms, shifted to the crook of one so she could knock on the door. She rose earlier than she usually would, keen on catching Vegeta at his new home before he could jet off for his own training or come drag her from her own for a spar. A week had passed since she handed over the house to him, and she had yet to bother him here. He liked his space--needed it, considering the life he left behind and the lack of room to really understand himself and what he wanted since severing his ties working for Frieza--and she could respect that. But once Lanu finished the armor with the small edition and the other project she commissioned of her mother’s former apprentice, a week was all she could manage to wait.

Vegeta finished tugging on his boots when the knock sounded at the door, his expression darkening in mild annoyance. For a split second, he considered not answering, but when he sensed Nabooru’s energy, he snatched up his gloves and headed for the door. There were worst potential visitors at that particular hour, and, if for no other reason than to get back at him for all the times he had done it, he figured she would waltz in sans invite regardless.

Pulling the door open, his gaze roved a single pass over her. With her earlier than usual appearance, he expected the quick version of her daily beauty regimen that he usually forced upon her. Instead, her hair and makeup was immaculate and reeked of the undue effort she put into it all that he would never understand. 

“You’re ready to go before me? I’m shocked.” He shifted to the side and nodded to the bundle in her hands, the shape of the armor on top enough to catch his attention. “What’s that?”

Nabooru strode inside, unsurprised to find it almost exactly as she had left it before relinquishing ownership, save for a few minor adjustments here and there, signs of it being lived in but just barely. “A housewarming gift,” she replied simply, perching herself on the arm of the couch. “Well, partially.”

The prince raised an eyebrow and kicked the door shut behind him. “How do you give a partial housewarming gift?” 

Nabooru watched as he pulled his gloves on, mentally noting that she could count the times she had seen his hands free of them on one hand. “I say partially because one part is more like a delivery.” She set the bundle aside next to her on the couch, separating the battle suit, armor and matching gloves and boots from the portion she could better define as a proper gift. She extended it out to him. “Since you liked the prototype Lanu made you well enough, she finished a few more sets of armor for you. She thinks she's getting close to bettering it, too, and she says she welcomes your criticism.”

He took the armor from her, the color and style similar to what he had grown used to. For the best; he had never been particularly adventurous when it came to clothing. 

Leaning forward, Nabooru tapped on the upper left side of the chest plate, unable to contain her smile. “We did add a little something this time. Nappa gave me the idea.”

Vegeta glanced toward the area she indicated. Etched in red on the white armor was the Saiyan royal crest, perfectly replicated as if designed on his home planet for him, the crown prince. He traced it with his thumb, unable to be fully annoyed by the sentimental touch. They were both in a tenuous place of remembering and forgetting, finding the balance between maintaining their identity and making it work in a world that wanted to erase it. 

“Nappa drew it up for me, too,” she continued, answering his next question before he could voice it. “We were talking about Lanu making new outfits for his fighters and we got on the topic of her making your armor. He was half drunk and reminiscing and mentioned that your armor would have the crest on it if your home planet was still around so I...thought it might be a nice touch.”

“It’s perfect.” He glanced up from the armor and snorted as her expression morphed from stunned to warily pleased in a mere second. “What? Were you that worried I wouldn’t like it?”

“Well, you can be pretty picky if not impossible,” Nabooru sniffed, ignoring the flush in her cheeks. She tossed him a capsule. “There are a few more like it in there with a few slight color variations for you to try out. I can let her know what you like and don’t for the next batch.”

He caught the capsule and stored it in the armor until later. “And that?” he asked, nodding to the fabric left on the couch seat next to her.

“Oh, right!” Her smiled returned and she hopped to her feet, snatching up the second part of her gift. “You remember the flag I hung up in my living room, right? Well, when you asked me about it the other day, it gave me an idea.”

The flag in question was one of the few things left intact after the mob sieged their home. Nabooru had dug the broken standard from the rubble and pulled the tattered flag from it. Golden thread stitched her people’s symbol on a sun-worn crimson field, she couldn’t bear to leave it behind and kept it with them throughout their settlement on Earth. Once she had her own home, she could think of no better place to display it than her living room, a reminder that they survived, of their pride. 

She unfurled the royal blue fabric and stretched it out in front of her, arms spread wide to show it off. “I owe Lanu for all these favors, but I had her make this for you, too. I knew you wouldn’t decorate yourself, so I’m giving you at least one thing to spruce things up a little.”

As her inquiry hinted, the Gerudo held a flag in her hands, not unlike the one tacked up on her wall. Only instead of depicting her people’s symbol, it proudly displayed the Saiyan crest in red in the center of a blue field. Vegeta couldn’t exactly remember if they had flags like this one, his memory of such details fuzzy from his short time on his home planet, but he appreciated the gesture all the same. Not that he had any real idea how to show that appreciation; everything he thought of felt contrived and stupid.

“I suppose after training today you’ll have to hang it up for me, then.”

Nabooru brought the ends together and refolded the flag, casting him a half-hearted glare that faded entirely when her painted lips tugged upward in a smirk to match his. “Oh, I have to hang it up?” she asked, setting it aside on the coffee table. “I’m not sure if you’re just lazy or trying to find a reason to spend a little extra time with me. If it’s the latter, all you have to do is ask, Vegeta.”

Turning, he wrenched the door open and huffed. “Shut up and let’s go. I haven’t got all day.” When he was certain his own blush had subsided, he glanced over his shoulder at her. “And don’t think that sucking up to me is going to save you from any kind of beating. I may even go harder on you.”

Nabooru swept past him and out into the desert heat, flipping her ponytail behind her in a flourish as she passed. “It’s about time. I like it on the rough side.”

Vegeta growled and slammed the door behind him, watching as she took to the sky before following suit moments later. Every damn time...

[mcousland]

alright tabby put your money where your mouth is 🖊+🍋🍋🍋 for your witcher gals :)

Okay this took forever to get to because Brain Bad when it came to Avelina and Lysandra for some of these but we made it!! Thanks for the horny rights encouragement as always kite 😘✌️

Avelina —

Was absolutely that type who was called some version of "mom/mother" by everybody in Kaer Seren at some point, levels of serious-to-joking varied but it is undeniable that Avelina took on the responsibility of caring for and helping each new recruit that she could, no matter their age. ("Mother bear" was her favorite.) 

She was left to tend to most of the fires in Kaer Seren as she had an impressive amount of control over the element. Lysandra theorized that she could have the makings of a proper mage, but they leave it at that as Avelina is content with her witcher life and doesn't want to delve into those ideas. 

She had an owl for a time, whom she always referred to as a companion instead of a pet. Her name was Sophina and she had patience to match Avelina's, which was always apparent during the times she liked to allow kids to see her up close. Avelina was able to train Sophina in delivering messages, but only to certain people and at a certain distance. She always kindly requested that Sophina deliver them, insisting it would be rude to demand the task of her like she was some creature undeserving of respect. 

A simple one: Avelina is bisexual! Though she tends to be more interested in women, if her track record has anything to say about it. She has had numerous partners through the years, but nothing that lasted very long. (tbh it's because she gets attached to humans and it never ends well. she has bad luck) 

Lysandra —

My heart tells me that she used to be a blonde, but Lysandra's centuries long exposure to and use of ice magic turned her hair silver. And no one can tell me otherwise SO,,

She has a collection of necklaces that she has garnered over her many, many years. And by collection, I mean that she has a mini hoard spread across her two homes and it's maybe the thing she's most Extra about. They all have stories behind them that she remembers no matter how much time has past, and usually emotional connections attached as well.

Lysandra has a morning routine that she positively hates to break, and if she has to do so her mood is sour for at least an hour. The routine consists of a warm bath, making herself a cup of tea that she drinks while reading through one (1) chapter of her current book, then changing into her clothes for the day, and finally carefully braiding her hair into the desired style. (The routine keeps even if she has a,,, "companion" from the evening before.)

She still wears Lucien and Natalie's rings on a chain around her neck. She was unable to part with them after their deaths, and it took her years to be able to even hold them in her hands but after some decades she was ready to keep them close again and hasn't parted with them since.

Maeve —

If there is one survival skill that she has been able to take away from spending her time traveling with witchers, it's tracking. Forget about it in her earlier years after being free, but she slowly gains confidence over years of accompanying the monster hunters who are kind enough to explain the more "basic" tricks for tracking monsters and humans. It doesn't come up very often for her, but she always feels a rush of satisfaction and pride when she has the chance to show off.

One of her first additions to the Sommers estate after purging it of Carden's belongings was having a piano put into the main sitting room. It took a lot of patience (and plenty aid from a friend she had made in Toussaint) but Maeve learned how to play it. She likes to sit and play as a way of centering herself if negative thoughts get too out of hand, but it's seen plenty of use purely for fun. She's no grand pianist by any means, but she can play simple songs and that's enough for her.

Maeve funds and provides costumes for numerous theater productions! If it wasn't immediately obvious upon spending an hour with her, she is a big fan of the arts and is committed to doing her part in keeping them alive/giving them the means to perform and travel. This is probably why she knows immediately upon entering a city if a show is going to be running, which is fun to shock her companions with at first.

Modern AU Maeve has bi flag color tinted heart-shaped sunglasses that she takes with her almost every time she leaves the house. Doesn't care if they don't fit her outfit (despite everything else needing go be coordinated), they're cute and she likes to wear them.

Naughty Bits below (of varying hedonistic levels, and extra Maeve ones to make up for missing them on a previous answer):

Avelina —

Okay, this one isn't over the top nsfw or Nasty, but it's 100% a thing that has happened where one of the fellow Kaer Seren witchers walked into Avelina's room to speak with her and found both her and her lady "companion" for the evening bare ass naked.

Avelina exudes top energy, and it's for a Reason. She loves to be in control in the bedroom. Not in the sense that she likes to overly tease or demand from her partner, but just that she enjoys setting the pace and position.

Lysandra —

Lysandra very much enjoys using temperature play. Obviously she has a preference for cold because of her proficiency with the type of magic, but will toss in some heat from time to time for a bit of fun. Gets her truest kick from delivering a shock of cold right before her partner climaxes.

Give.. her.. neck kisses. pls. She is vulnerable to them at any given moment, and that fact has been used against her many-a time. She'll go from irritated and tense to relaxed and Interested in a few brief moments, especially if some attention is also given to her shoulders.

Maeve (Now I'm not sure what qualifies as "coming out guns blazing" as you requested, but here we go.) —

One of the ways Maeve likes to flirt is by musing about how she's able to do a lot more with her mouth than chattering away, and it's for,,, good reason tbh. She's rather skilled at & thoroughly enjoys going down on her partners. Receiving is good and all, but there's nothing like reducing a partner to wordless sounds and trembling limbs to boost her confidence. Bonus: she likes to over-stimulate her partner just to see how much they can stand.

Is it a cop out to simply say that all Maeve wants is for witchers to grab her and Take what they want from her? Is that really too much to ask?? Truly??? When will one of them shove her to her knees, lock both her hands in one of theirs and use her until—

Alright so ANYWAY the real next headcanon: someone 👏 please 👏 pull 👏 her 👏 hair 👏 it's very sensitive. Touching it gently or running fingers through it will make her shiver every time, and tugging on it during the act will always pull out some sudden and very pleased noises from her.

99% certain that it's been said before but,, if Maeve and a partner are up to something in a tavern room, then everyone on that floor is most likely aware of it because this woman is Incredibly Vocal. To pile on top of that—if she's not moaning or crying out, she's likely saying some naughty things to either tease or encourage her partner. And by naughty I mean,,, straight up filthy. Silver tongue on the streets and you know what in the sheets huh

Real basic one here but eye contact is a Huge thing for Maeve, especially when she's nearing her climax. It's about the,, Intimacy. The Connection.

What's a list of nsfw headcanons good for if it doesn't include a random list of kinks/fetishes/etc that I can think of that Maeve would be into, am I right?? So: sex in public places, bindings and blindfolds, lowkey breeding kink but don't @ her about it, DIRTY TALK, we all been knew about the threesomes and beyond, invented the kink for witchers, there's a name for it but I don't know it anyway she likes big dicks because her 5ft ass is a sucker for pushing limits. There's more but the list would be So Long

Alana suggested "wildest place she's Done the Deed" to help me finish this up and,,, okay. Like. Don't judge her. Let Maeve live for this one. We all know that she's boned down with a witcher directly after they've killed some monster. Sweat, blood, wounds and all, this horny ass bard just Had To Have her companion in that moment. You know what they say about blood being up after a good fight akdjdldm (so which of you golden-eyed fucks got down and dirty with Maeve outdoors and pinned her to a tree after slaying a monster one of you did it fess up)

[half-bakedboy]

New York Pride

Read on AO3

Simon’s van was filled to the brim with flags of all colors, glitter of all types, and the grinning faces of the large group of friends. Jace sat in the passenger seat, his body angling toward the back seat with one hand resting on Simon’s thigh. He was talking to Clary, Izzy, and Maia, who were all squished in the back seat. Izzy had her legs thrown over Maia’s lap and her head resting on Clary’s shoulder. Clary placed soft kisses on her head intermittently, the smile never leaving her lips as Izzy twirled her red hair in her fingers. Maia tapped out a beat on Izzy’s legs, matching the punk rock music Simon had playing on the stereo. Helen and Aline were attached at the mouth in the very back with an incredibly annoyed Raphael smushed next to them. The music was loud and the laughter was louder as Simon drove the short distance to the end of the New York Pride parade.

As the group stumbled out of the van, they were immediately bombarded with the loud sounds of pop music pumping from the speakers and the cheerful laughter of the guests. Simons grin widened as he caught a glimpse of the pansexual pride flag blowing in the light breeze. He’d always known his sexuality was fluid, but it wasn’t until he’d met Jace that he realized just how fluid. The blonde man sparked something in him which was a mixture between constant anger and overwhelming love. He was pushed out from his thoughts when Jace’s arm flung around his shoulder, pulling him close.

“Ready to get your stuff? You’re on in about 3 hours.” The excitement and support evident in Jace’s voice, it was enough to cause Simon to lean over and place a wet kiss to his cheek. Jace pushed him away jokingly, their hands now connected as they walked toward the stage. “We’ll see you guys in a bit. Enjoy pride!”

Jace had been obsessed with redheaded women for as long as he could remember. The moment he laid eyes on Clary, he thought he’d found the love of his life.  Jace had never felt an interest in men, that is until Simon walked through the door. He knew Alec was gay for a long time, so it wasn’t something completely foreign to him, but there was never anyone who stuck out to him. That all changed the minute Simon entered the coffee shop. With his glasses just a little askew on his face and his hair just a little messed up, Jace was hooked.

It took more than one “accidental” run in for Simon to realize that Jace was interested. Simon had always assumed Jace was trying to get with Clary no matter how many times Clary told him that wasn’t the case. What made Simon realize their connection, was when Jace pretended an ex had walked it. Jace quickly wrapped his arms around Simon, planting a kiss on his lips. When Simon asked what was going on, Jace shrugged and introduced Simon as his boyfriend. From then on, that introduction stuck. It wasn’t until a few days later that Simon learned that the “ex” was actually Jace’s sister, Izzy.

Jace wanted nothing more than to explore New York Pride with Simon, but the pride he had for his boyfriend eclipsed that need. Simon had landed the opening spot to perform on the main stage at this giant event. He’d auditioned only because Jace tricked him into it. When he got the call, Jace had hugged him so hard, he’d lifted him up off the ground. Simon’s smile was the only thing in the world that made Jace’s heart start racing and to see it shine so brightly on a day like today? He couldn’t believe how he’d gotten so lucky.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jace saw Simon continually glancing over to one of the booths selling flags. Right before they reached the stage, Jace redirected them to the booth, Simon resisting the tug of Jace’s hand.

“Jace, what?” Jace walked to the booth, looking at the assortment of flags in front of them. Finding the one he wanted, he reached out and grabbed it before placing a few bills on the table. He turned towards a slightly red Simon and wrapped the flag around his neck, giving Simon a pansexual cape.

“You’re Pan Man. The pansexual superhero who’s about to rock the stage at New York Pride!” Jace yelled excitedly, twirling Simon and gaining the interest of a few people around them. Simon shook his head before he leaned in and connected their lips in a fiery kiss. A few whistles and calls were thrown in their direction, all positive, earning a wide smile from both of the boys. “Let’s get you over to the stage,” Jace muttered, throwing his arm over Simon’s shoulders and leading him toward their destination.

~~~~~~

Izzy was always dressed to kill. Her black leather dress was short and deeply cut, but this was Pride and she could be whoever she wanted to be. Yeah, it might have been a bit too hot for leather and it was probably not the best idea to wear 6-inch heels, but she looked good. And she wasn’t afraid to show it. She looked to either side of her to make sure her girlfriends were still close enough for her to defend if they needed it. Not that she expected to need to, but she was the momma bear of the group.

She’d met Clary first. Pretending to be her brother’s ex-girlfriend in order for him to finally land the guy he’d been pining over for weeks. It was uncomfortable and weird, especially when she’d had to wait another month to see the redhead again so she didn’t blow Jace’s cover. When she was finally introduced to Clary officially, Izzy had immediately fallen in love with her creativity and soft nature. When she found out she was in a relationship, it had taken Izzy a few weeks to convince herself she could just be friends with Clary.

What she wasn’t expecting was to go out on a date with Clary and Maia and fall in love with them both. They were the most interesting couple Izzy had ever met. Clary was a gentle creature who giggled at everything around her. Maia was tough and badass and radiated confidence at every turn. Izzy knew she was in trouble from the start. When Clary asked her on a one-on-one date, Izzy wasn’t even sure it was a date. Until Clary had tucked her hair behind her ear and ran her thumb across Izzy’s lips. Izzy asked about Maia before their lips touched and Clary just giggled softly, rubbing her nose across Izzy’s softly. Clary informed her that Maia would get her turn and proceeded to kiss Izzy so gently, she thought she may melt.

From that moment on, their relationship had grown into one that Izzy never thought possible. She loved Clary and Maia equally and they loved her the same. Izzy never felt like she was ‘joining in’ on Clary and Maia’s relationship and the two women made a point of that. Izzy felt loved more than she ever thought possible and she loved in return as much as her heart would let her.

Walking around pride with her hand grasped tight in Clary’s while Maia had an arm around her shoulder was the most free Izzy had ever felt. They all wandered together, never breaking their connection as they passed booth filled with flags, pamphlets, and drag queens. Izzy stopped abruptly when she saw the pi symbol out of the corner of her eye. As a major nerd, Izzy wondered what the pi symbol was doing on a flag, so she detached herself from her girlfriend’s and moved through the crowd to get to the booth.

“Excuse me?” Izzy said softly, motioning towards the black, red, and blue flag. “What is this flag? For like nerdy gays or something?” Izzy joked, earning a hearty laugh from the large man behind the counter.

“Honey, it’s for polyamory. Like, dating multipl--” Izzy squealed before she could stop herself, a shocked look crossing the man’s face. She turned towards Clary and Maia only to meet their smirks.

“You never told me we had our own flag!!” Izzy accused, reaching over to grab one and tying it around her shoulders. Clary and Maia giggled together, their hands attached as they watched their adorable girlfriend pay for her flag. “It has pi on it, guys! Pi!!” Izzy reiterated, twirling to show them her newly acquired accessory. Maia stepped forward, pulling Izzy into her arms and kissing her cheek. Clary leaned over and pressed her lips to her other cheek softly, both pulling back to smile at each other.

“How in the world did we find her?” Maia asked, a look of pride on her face as she glanced back at Izzy, excitedly speaking to the booth owner. Clary shook her head, leaning her shoulder against Maia’s.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

~~~~~~

Aline was used to pride activities. Growing up, her mother was always supportive of her sexuality. Of course, Aline was never going to take anything but what she deserved. She’d always had a strong personality and a hard head. Her mother knew that and if Aline said she was a lesbian, than she was a lesbian. That was that. And her mother would love her no matter what. Aline had never really shown interest in romantic aspects of life. She’d been focused and competitive throughout high school and even more so in college.

The minute her eyes met Helen’s, she knew she was toast. Helen had just joined the gym Aline worked at as a trainer part time in college. She immediately signed up for all of the classes possible, most of which Aline taught. When Helen walked into the first class, Aline immediately matched up with her. She had tried to make it obvious that she was interested. Helen was a bit more shy than Aline, though. It took a few more weeks for Aline to convince her to go on a date. Their first date was a huge success though and they’d been together ever since.

Aline glanced over at Helen, who was rifling through the graphic t’s on one of the tables. The woman behind the counter was helping her and Aline could see the flirting from her position a few feet away. Obviously, Helen was oblivious, so Aline had to step in.

“Hi, beautiful. Which one do you like?” Helen held up a shirt with three moons in different phases, filled in with the bisexual flag. Underneath, it said ‘I am not a phase’. Aline sighed, pulling Helen into her arms and kissing her forehead gently. It was no secret to the two of them that Helen’s family didn’t believe in her bisexuality. They thought she’d get over it and when they met Aline, they finally realized that it wasn’t something to get over. Unfortunately, that caused a rift between them and Helen was all alone. But she had Aline and Aline was sure to remind her that she wasn’t alone every chance she got.

“I want to get this one, I think,” she said softly, holding it out to the woman behind the booth along with her payment. Aline smiled at her and held Helen just a little tighter. When the woman walked away, Helen giggled into Aline’s neck. “She wasn’t flirting, babe,” she said through her laughter. Aline rolled her eyes and placed her hand on Helen’s chin to meet her eyes.

“I never said she was, babe,” Aline responded, placing a gentle kiss on her lips just as the woman came back with her change. She smiled at the two of them, placing the money on the counter.

“You are really cute together. I hope you enjoy pride!” The woman said happily. Aline instantly felt relief flood through her. She was as competitive as anyone else, but she didn’t feel like ruining pride over something like jealousy. Aline wished her a happy pride back and pulled Helen along by her waist. She stopped at another booth and pushed Helen into the seat. At Helen’s questioning look, Aline just smiled, pointing to the glitter tattoos being offered.

“How about a pink, purple, and blue fairy for my fairy?” Aline said, beckoning the artist over. Helen nodded her head before pulling Aline into her lap and letting the artist start her work. Aline watched as Helen talked with the artist, a smile never leaving her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this happy and it was all because of Helen.

~~~~~~

Pride wasn’t really Raphael’s thing. He didn’t understand why people like him needed a giant event in order to be proud of who they were, but he wasn’t one to step on his friends fun. Well, he absolutely was, but not with this. His group of friends had accepted every aspect of him like it was no problem and he’d promised himself he’d always do the same. He glanced around at the rainbow colors flying through the air and sighed to himself. The sun was too hot, the colors were too bright, and he really just wanted to be at home right now.

“Mind if I join you?” A smooth voice asked. Raphael turned to see a beautiful man standing in front of the bench he had claimed. He gestured towards the seat next to him, moving over slightly so he could sit down. Raphael looked back at his phone, assuming the man just needed a seat away from the excitement but his voice chimed again. “I’m Meliorn. And you are?” Raphael looked up from his phone to glance back at Meliorn, raising his eyebrows. Meliorn mimicked him, the look on his face urging Raphael to introduce himself.

“Raphael,” he said quickly, looking back down at his phone. He heard Meliorn laugh beside him and rolled his eyes.

“You know, for someone at the happiest place on earth right now, you’re pretty glum,” Meliorn remarked, crossing his legs on the bench and facing Raphael. Raphael looked up once more, turning to really look at Meliorn. He had to admit that he was pleasing to look at.

“I’m here with friends. I don’t really belong… here.” Raphael looked around at all the sexually explicit material and the half naked and leather clad men and women surrounding him. Meliorn tilted his head in question and Raphael sighed. “Not that I need to explain myself, but I’m asexual. I don’t fit in with the LGBT crowd,” Raphael mumbled, a bit scared to meet Meliorn’s eyes.

It was only a few months ago that he found a term for what he felt his whole life. While other kids in high school were experiencing their first times, Raphael stayed on the sidelines, content to just listen to their stories in silence. In college, when his roommate would kick him out of their dorm to bring a girl home on a Saturday night, Raphael would go study in the common area. People had always told him he’d be happier if he just ‘got laid’. Or that he’d obviously just never found the right person to have fun with. He didn’t see it that way.

One late night, after the rest of the group had gone to bed, he let out his sorrows as the alcohol swam through his system. He had his head in Simon’s lap and his feet in Izzy’s and he just let it all out. How never in his life did he feel that urge to join with someone. He never looked a woman or man and thought about what they’d be like in bed. He confessed to them about how he wanted a partner, someone to share his life with, but sex just wasn’t something he was interested in doing. Izzy nodded, rubbing a supportive hand up and down his shin while Simon played with his hair. Izzy said the word first. Asexual. She read the definition out loud and something clicked inside Raphael. His tears fell more freely then and his embarrassment was suffocated by the love he had for his best friends beside him. In the end, he’d felt more secure in what he was and he had them to thank for it.

“You belong here, Raphael,” Meliorn said softly. Raphael could’ve sworn his voice sounded like velvet. Meliorn reached towards his hand and Raphael quickly pulled it back, a fearful look on his face. “I want to show you something. Can I?” Raphael nodded slowly, letting Meliorn take his hand. They walked through the crowds of people, their hands never leaving each others grip. Meliorn stopped in front of a booth, finally letting go of his hand. Raphael looked up from his feet to see an upside down triangle filled in with white, gray, and black. He tilted his head back to take a look at the name of the organization and gasped softly.

“Welcome to The Asexual Visibility and Education Network’s booth, fellas! We have some free stickers and pins and for a small donation, you get a flag!” Raphael gaped at the man and blindly accepted the sticker and pin he had offered. Meliorn handed over a small amount of cash to the man before wrapping a flag around Raphael’s bicep.

“This is pride, Raphael. You belong here. Just the way you are.” Meliorn gripped onto his arms underneath the flag in a sign of comfort. Raphael didn’t know what overtook him, but he threw himself into Meliorn’s arms and hugged him as tight as he could. Meliorn smiled into Raphael’s shoulder, holding him back just as tightly.

“Thank you…” Raphael didn’t think the words were enough and he stared down at the black, gray, white, and purple flag covering his bicep. “You… You don’t know what this means to me…” He shook his head as Meliorn took out a marker from his backpack.

“If you ever need to talk or you know, want to hang out, here’s my number.” Meliorn wrote down the digits quickly on Raphael’s wrist, blowing on the drying ink and causing a shiver to rush through the other man. Raphael shook his head, finally noting the bisexual flag on his cheek.

“But you… You’re bisexual?” Meliorn nodded, taking a few steps back from Raphael.

“Sex isn’t a deal breaker, Raphael. I’ll see you around,” he shouted as he disappeared into the crowd. Meliorn didn’t know how much that sentence meant to Raphael or how much that day changed him.

~~~~~~

The beginning of the parade was starting to look like a riot with the amount of people rushing to their places and making last minute adjustments to floats. Andrew was content watching his boyfriend direct orders to everyone beside him. He just sipped his water bottle, avoiding runners left and right.

“We’re almost done with the lineup! Marshalls, are you ready?” Lorenzo shouted, standing back as the music started playing on the first float. The Marshall’s shouted back and Lorenzo motioned for them to start. The crowd immediately went wild. Andrew had to hold onto the blockers behind him in order to stay on his feet. He’d never heard anything so loud and cheerful.

“You okay, love?” Andrew heard Lorenzo’s voice next to his ear and unconsciously leaned towards the sound. Lorenzo’s arm wrapped around his waist as they watched as the parade moved slowly forward. Andrew nodded, letting his body lean into Lorenzo’s chest.

Andrew had never been to a Pride before. In fact, he’d never really considered it as something he needed to do. When he first came out, he didn’t have any friends who were part of the community. He’d grown up in a small, unpopulated town, where everyone knew everyone and most everyone was straight. It wasn’t until he got to college and met Alec that he realized how many people just like him there were in the world. With Alec came Magnus, the extravagant, flamboyant, tornado of a bisexual man. He’d never met anyone like Magnus before. And with Magnus came Lorenzo.

Lorenzo Rey.

Andrew never expected to find the love of his life in college. He had always assumed that when he was 30, he would get tired of waiting and join some online dating service for the incredibly awkward and settle for a less-than-ideal man. He never expected he’d meet Lorenzo. If he did expect it, he would have changed the circumstances considerably.

Magnus was always the life of the party. And since Alec was more of a sidelines type of guy, Andrew had taken it upon himself to join their club excursions to save Alec from getting hit on every woman and man who didn’t see the undying love in his eyes for the dancing man on the floor. Magnus was so grateful for the new addition, he invited his oldest friend to join them one night. The one night that Andrew decided to get incredibly drunk and dance with Magnus for the first time just had to be the same night.

This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem for most people, but Andrew was a mess on the dance floor even when he was sober. His body moved to the beat, limbs flailing around carelessly before he smacked a drink right out of someone's hand and all over his pants. In his drunken haze, Andrew had kneeled in front of him, dabbing at the stain with his t-shirt, not noticing the stares and laughter around him, Magnus’ included. It wasn’t until Magnus pulled him up by his arm that he got a look at Lorenzo. And man, was he glad to look. He would have been embarrassed about his previous move if Lorenzo’s eyes weren’t so kindly staring at him. The rest of the night was filled with more kindness, less embarrassing laughter, and gentle kisses Andrew would never forget.

A few months later, when they had gotten more serious, Lorenzo mentioned to Andrew how the next few months were going to be extremely busy for him as he had many meetings to attend. When Andrew inquired further, Lorenzo shyly admitted his role as Head of Parade Operations for New York Pride. While Andrew had never been to a Pride, he knew that New York had one of the biggest and most exorbitant parades in the country. He was incredibly impressed that Lorenzo was the one that put it all together.

Andrew had gone to a few meetings with Lorenzo as his boyfriend insisted on ‘showing him off’ to the other members of the group. The group was incredible. They’d ask for Andrew’s input constantly to help him feel included and he’d never heard such a collective gasp when he mentioned he’d never been to Pride. Lorenzo gaped at him but quickly changed the subject upon sensing Andrew’s discomfort.

After that, Andrew told him about his childhood. It was the first time he’d spoken about it with someone who was like him. Lorenzo had been nothing but supportive of his stories of growing up in a small town where he couldn’t really be gay. He was open about being gay, but he didn’t feel like he fit in anywhere and Lorenzo just grabbed his hand and spoke to him about how much he fit.

With Lorenzo in his arms, the music and cheers filling the air, Andrew felt an overwhelming wave of emotion rush through him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he fit.

“Sweetie, ready to head to the end?” Lorenzo whispered, placing a soft kiss on Andrew’s ear and holding him just a little bit tighter. Andrew shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“Just a little bit longer?” Lorenzo squeezed his waist, nodding his head before placing it on Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew basked in the feeling of being accepted and loved, closing his eyes and taking in all of the sounds around him.

~~~~~~

Alec knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved in yet another one of Magnus’ crazy ideas. His husband was full of them and somehow, marriage meant Alec was always dragged into them. This was how he found himself sitting in a makeup chair, face covered in makeup and a wig on top of his head. It itched more than he liked and the urge to run his hands over his face was stronger than usual. Magnus finished up the final touches of glitter before kissing his fingers mimicking a chef.

“Perfecto!” Magnus shouted, twirling Alec around so he could look at himself in the mirror. Alec shook his head, his eyes wide with worry.

“Magnus, what? I don’t know about this…” Magnus just laughed, wrapping his arms around his husband’s shoulders, pressing the lightest of kisses on his cheek, careful not to mess up his hard work.

“You look fantastic, my love. Plus, you know that Pearl backed out last minute and she was my duet partner. I need someone I trust who has been to every rehearsal and knows the words and moves. Who better than my at home dance partner?” Magnus fluttered his eyelashes and Alec sighed heavily. There was no way he could say no to that face.

“I will do the performance with you at the end of the parade. I will wave and throw candy because I support you with my whole heart. But I will notbe happy about it.” The smile widened on Magnus’ face and Alec couldn’t help but mimic it. He pressed his bright red lips to Magnus’ cheek as he stood up and pulled on the ridiculous outfit Magnus had chosen for him. Magnus had looked amazing in his hot pink leather dress and Alec found himself drooling any time he entered a room in his outfit. Together, they waltzed onto the float, hand in hand to be met with the cheers of the crowd.

Alec was true to his word, at least mostly. He waved and tossed candy to the crowd, but he was happy about it. He was having a blast. Yes, his wig was hot and his makeup was probably ruined at this point, but the energy was unparalleled. It wasn’t until he heard the whistles and catcalls that he felt a blush creep on his cheeks. He looked toward the crowd to see his group of friends going absolutely crazy. Izzy was jumping up and down, unable to contain her excitement. Maia and Clary were cheering loudly, Maia putting her fingers to her lips for an ear piercing whistle. Jace and Simon were laughing their asses off, both winking when Alec made eye contact. When the float stopped and the first chords chimed, Alec froze. It wasn’t until he felt the reassuring slide of Magnus’ arm around his waist that he snapped back into reality.

“Ladies and gentleman and everyone in between, welcome to New York Pride!” Magnus shouted, earning a flood of cheers throughout the crowd. Magnus had chosen Lady Marmalade for his performance song and his outfit was enough to have Alec drooling just at the sight. As nervous as he was to perform, the fact that it was Magnus beside him had him moving his lips along to the song. The cheers from his friends boosted his confidence as he strutted his stuff across the float, moving in sequence with Magnus. He dipped and spun and twirled Magnus on cue, both of their smiles lighting up the float just a little more. When the song ended, Magnus pressed his lips to Alec, neither caring about their makeup as they kissed fiercely for all to see. Alec pulled away at another wolf whistle from Maia, waving shyly at his friends. The float moved slowly towards the end, both him and Magnus jumped off only to be pummelled by hugs from the group.

“Holy shit, Alec. Who knew what a hot girl you’d make?” Jace said, twirling a strand of Alec’s blonde wig in his fingers. Alec shoved him away, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, but those heals! How are you doing that? They’re taller than mine?!” Izzy screamed, wrapping her arms around her brother’s waist. He held her back, lifting one foot up to take another look at them.

“Magnus makes me practice with him and apparently heels are a necessity?” Alec replied lamely, suddenly very aware of the outfit he was in. The silver sequined bra was sparkling in the sunlight, the corset around his waist was making it a bit hard to breath, and he couldn’t help but tug down the short skirt Magnus had somehow convinced him to wear. Magnus strutted over, wrapping his arms around Alec’s neck and kissing him once more. The group took pictures of the two of them and Alec made a mental note to destroy them all later.

“Happy Pride, Alexander,” Magnus whispered, glancing around at all of the beautiful people surrounding them. Alec sighed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ head. He never thought he’d be this comfortable in his own skin. Magnus had shown him that he could be exactly who he wanted to be and more and he was grateful for his husband every day.

“Happy Pride, Magnus.”

I owe my life to @schmicosmalec for dropping everything today to beta this for me. You’re the best parabatai a girl could ask for. 

[guzma-reader-hell]

Date Nite

Dis for my buddy @boxdfoxeninc . There’s no fucking excuse for this being so late, but I wanted it to be nice because she caught me a beautiful salandit shiny named opal and I owe her my life (and two more chappies of dis beautiful adventures of Lynnie and Guzma) I hope you enjoy this my friend, and that as it goes on that it makes up for the wait and for the effort you put into getting me my dream Pokémon ❤️

...

“It’s fine.”

Mantra of the night.

“It’s alright.”

“You good fam.”

“I gotchu.”

But deep down Guzma knows it ain’t alright. It ain’t even remotely close to fine, he ain’t good, and you barely got yourself.

Chasing dreams, making a fool of yourself, you’ve done it all. Just like him, and one of the many things that endeared him to you. Everything he tried to do to make trial captain was all for naught, and better than anyone he knew the state you were currently in. It was just the problem of your denial that prevented him from giving you the help you truly needed...

Date nights hadn’t been this tense, not since you visited before your last trip to Sinnoh. A bundle of nerves had come to see him at least a year ago, crying about how nervous she was to take on the Sinnoh league all over again, and oh my god what if I don’t make it, what if I fail, spouting all these different worries and anxieties pickled and stuffed up into one big fuckaroo of a thing you called life. Then when you left, unable to call or write because you wanted to commit fully, he agonized endlessly but trusted in his pride for you. Well... no news came. Everything had gone dark for a few minutes, and there were no new updates on the Sinnoh League champion. Guzma, well, he’d been living a life of debauchery after leaving his parent’s house and forming up his own ragtag group of criminals, and ironically there wasn’t anyone else he could think of that he wanted to share his accomplishments with but you. It was just that when you finally came home, and he managed to get you alone before anyone else, he found you oddly closed off to everyone, even the one criminal boss you trusted from the beginning.

This bullshit sucked. Plain and simple. But what could he say?

“It’s fine.” You insisted. “Order whatever you want babe. It’s all on me.”

“Ya sure?” Guzma finally settled on. “Don’t look alright Lynnie...”

“Naaah.”

You waved it off, like swatting imaginary cutieflies out of your face. The Ronin set he wanted to share was costly, for normal folks it meant half a month’s salary. For trainers, it was more money than you could expect to battle for on the islands without a VS Seeker.

“Told you, ‘s fine. I’ll buy this time.”

“Uh...”

“Yeah.” You insisted, “No trouble at all my dude. Besides, like you’re in a position to buy anything, with your broke ass.”

He shrinks back, not at your comment, but your laugh. It sounds too hollow. Too depraved of any sort of joy. It speaks the volumes of words that won’t come out of your mouth no matter how many times someone asks you how life treated you in a colder climate. There’s only one indication that your trip even existed (because let’s face it, all interactions have basically indicated it never happened). Your Pokémon, a grizzled Infernape that drapes its arms lazily around you every now and again, seems to bear the only souvenir of a scar, and it’s an old one at that... There’s no fanfare, no presents for anyone save for the scarf you’d gotten him.

What can Guzma say? You won’t talk to him about the things that plague your mind as the appetizers come out, bowls of miso soup and a plate of tempura that he devours but you can only pick at. Naturally, as expected, there is no conversation the whole of dinner even though he wants desperately to catch up. To have both of you brag about successes, cry about failures, anything save for this damned silence that will not end. But he can’t reach you, all he can do is reach the food, and it’s been a while since he’s eaten this good. So the only thing he can do at the moment is eat. The aforementioned Ronin Set is gone the minute it hits the table, and the sad piece that Guzma has spared you sits untouched, going lukewarm by the time the bill hits the table and you’re paying for everything on a card.

It’s the next sentence that worries him: “I’m not sure what’s on this one but let’s give it a try.”

Oh hell no. Not if you were just as broke ass as he was. Immediately he flags down the waiter, nearly tackling the poor man as Guzma tails after him on the pretense of taking a leak before you both return home. He stuffs a wad of cash into his hand unceremoniously, assuring him rather gruffly that if he brings back the receipt and card in one piece that he can keep the change. It’s not that hard to convince the waiter, especially when Guzma doesn’t pay attention to how much of his hidden stash he slaps into the other man’s hand before hightailing it back to the table, and considering the fact that the locals know him well in Malie, and will give this hardened criminal whatever in the hell he wants.

The waiter comes back and presents your card and receipt with a flourish. You take it nonchalantly, and Guzma thanks the gods that you simply take the card and stand up.

“Ready?” You ask, seemingly ready for the night to end. Infernape follows behind, equally disenchanted with everything that Sushi High Roller has to offer.

“I...”

He wants to make a scene, cause a dramatic altercation because, as one Ms. Clavel might say: Something is not right.

He suddenly find himself pushing the chair out behind him, the noise harsh as the legs scrape the flooring. Guzma has to book it after you, because you’re already out the door and walking into the brightly lit streets by the time he catches up. You look back briefly, shrugging when you see him panting, breathless with anger, and you’re about to tell him goodnight when the nuclear bomb decides it’s time to drop.

“<i>What the fuck is your damage?!</i>”

You’re caught off guard. The world stops spinning on its axis, holding breath from the moment the first word exploded from his mouth into the mushroom cloud that formed the rest of the sentence. The rest of Malie floats away on the wind, a blur of colored lights sprinkling magic droplets into the dark fades away until there is nothing. No city. No people. Just a void. A vacuum in space and time that Guzma has created with the halting bark of his voice and the pent up rage and aggression that cannot be matched by anyone but himself.

“You’re acting like a brat!” He screams, getting right in your face and his eyes blazing with something so fierce that even infernape cannot come to your rescue.

“You leave me for a year, ya don’t call or write to me, or even think to lemme know you’re still kicking... then ya come back and have the audacity to axe me out and take me to this tired date so you can avoid questions and treat me like imma fuckin’ stranger to ya! This is BULLSHIT! Why the hell you don’t tell me what’s going on with ya?! Come on Lynnie! Talk to me! TALK GODDAMN YOU!”

His words have knocked the breath out of you. It’s... quite a long time before anyone moves or says a word and he’s about to go for it again when you suddenly break down and begin sobbing, infernape trying to resuscitate you from your break down and nearly torching Guzma when he drops to his knees to come and get you up off the floor. You struggle briefly, once, twice, before pushing infernape away and collapsing in Guzma’s arms where your facade of holding it together reveals quite the contrary.

You closed off because you were broken. He doesn’t have to pry to get you to talk because in that brief instant that you’re clinging like an animal to him he knows. He knows you’re here for good. He knows that you tried your best at everything you’ve done and come back a failure because he’s gone through the exact same shit, taking a nine iron to the face to show for it. You don’t need to tell him that becoming the champion fell through, because the emotion you exude and the mantras of “I did my best” slipping out between the dry heaves and snot bubbles is so heartbreakingly familiar, so mind numbingly sad that it takes everything inside Guzma not to break down into a million pieces right there with you in the street. One thing he knows... and he knows it for certain... you are not going home tonight nor any of the other nights after. He will be go to hell if he lets you out of his sight and out of his life ever again.