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acesydneysage · 3 years

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My thoughts on how an Alchemist revolution could go

I turned some of the initial points into a one-shot, but I'm very unlikely to actually write anything that sees all of it through to the end, so I'm laying out what I imagine would happen. I could follow the initial fic's format and just write cutesy domestic fluff with hints of what is going on in the Alchemist revolution in the background, but who knows

In The Golden Lily, Sonya thought Sydney's blood might be key to a vaccine, since it was undrinkable to Strigoi. Later, in The Fiery Heart, in their visit to Inez, we find out that it's because her blood is coated in human magic. That makes it taste foul to undead vampires, and also broke her Alchemist tattoo, by countering the compulsion of Moroi magic with human magic.

She eventually uses a similar principle to make the tattoo breaking ink she gives to Marcus, and that she uses to help the other re-education inmates in Silver Shadows.

So, with that in mind:

My initial idea was that one of Marcus' operatives, who got tattooed with Sydney's ink, would suffer a Strigoi attack. Their blood would turn out to be undrinkable. Since Sydney's ink breaks the Alchemist tattoo, the receivers blood would get coated with human magic, like a witch's.

I would like it if that person was one of the people Sydney helped in re-education, because I'd like to think those people stayed loyal to her, and maybe see her as a leader. Just because it's really touching to me how she was still worried about others, and risking herself to help, while she was going through her worst nightmare.

In my fic I went with Sydney's roommate Emma, "the Sydney Sage of re-education", because I really love her. She really did turn out to be the Sydney of re-education, at least in part, because while she was repeating the party line and trying to seem cooperative, she was actually a badass rebel who fights back. There are other reasons, I'll get to that in the end.

Sydney's ink potentially working as a Strigoi vaccine is something important enough that she would risk her truce with the Alchemists to investigate. And since the ink also makes people immune to their mind control, the Alchemists wouldn't work with them like they did for the spirit vaccine. I truly believe that they value their control more than human souls.

I'm sure Declan’s blood will be important to the spirit vaccine. They couldn't mass produce it since it required a recent Strigoi restoration, trapping the spirit before it left the blood, while his blood is described as brimming with spirit. But Sydney and Adrian don't want their son to be experimented on, so that's just more incentive to seek an alternative.

I think Sydney’s ink wouldn't work on Moroi, going by the logic of the magic described in the books (human magic wins out in humans), but helping humans is already a big deal, and it could maybe work on dhampirs.

Meanwhile, the Alchemists have been getting polarized. When it's revealed that some of them were helping the Warriors of Light in the end of the series, while Warriors were keeping Moroi captive, that causes controversy. They eventually start to get divided into factions.

After the US re-education center burns down, those who oppose re-education try to defend that it not be rebuilt, and that other centers be shut down. There are symbolic concessions, but they eventually get basically re-education by another name. Similar things happen when it comes to demands for more transparency, and less authoritarianism in general.

And of course there's a reaction to progressive demands. A hardcore anti-Moroi faction is amenable to teaming up with the Warriors. They're tired of "fighting evil by cataloguing it."

If this faction wins out, they won't actually care that Sydney is blackmailing them into letting her live with proof that they worked with the Warriors, since they openly want that, and they consider her continued existence a humiliation. So Sydney and Adrian wouldn't be able to sit out this fight.

There are more and more defectors who simply leave and join Marcus (or go into hiding and try to stay away from that whole mess). But out of those who stay Alchemists, as things start to devolve into an actual civil war, the moderate faction has a lot of infighting about joining up with the rebels.

That's at least in part because Sydney is one of their most notorious members, and while they might not want to see all the Moroi exterminated, marrying one of them is still going way too far to a lot of them.

So, let's talk allies. Sydney definitely put Marcus in touch with more witches and taught them how to make the ink. And I think besides kidnapping Moroi and dhampirs, the Warriors could be capturing witches too, which would turn them against each other.

In re-education, when it's revealed that Sydney has magic they say that has happened before, and I imagine they handled it with the same amount of compassion. I think maybe Chantal is a witch too and that's why she was fown in the punishment level with Sydney.

Alicia definitely showed that some witches might be willing to work with them for their personal gain, but I think as a community they would protect their own. They wouldn't look kindly on Alchemists torturing witches. And even if they were born into the Alchemists, they chose to be witches, so their allegiance to them would take precedence in their minds. Sydney's coven and Ms. Terwilliger are definitely on board.

I think the rebels might be able to get the Keepers on their side, since they have a complicated relationship with the Alchemists, where they seemto deliberately keepthem dependent. Marcus' stated goal for a long time was helping Moroi on their own terms, that's what he did for a long while. He definitely didn't have any plans to topple the Alchemists in the Bloodlines era, he didn't thinkthat was possible. So they occasionally helped them get better technology and resources that the Alchemists don't want them to have, and they promise to help them further in the future. That gets them the Keepers sympathy.

The Moroi government obviously isn't gonna side with the anti-Moroi faction, but I think they'd try to stay out of the conflict and not be dragged into the fighting for as long as possible. But they've come to depend on the Alchemists too much to keep them hidden, and they're now in chaos.

With the Alchemists weakened by a civil war they aren't really doing a great job of keeping up the masquerade, Moroi secrecy gets very precarious.

Now. While Alchemists claim to be very worried about human souls, absolutely no one in the VA universe seems that worried about regular humans' lives. They don't even know about the existence of Strigoi so they could protect themselves. And yes, there are humans who'd work with Strigoi. Strigoi seem to have zero issue finding those humans as is, they simply tell them about vampires themselves when they wanna get servants.

Now there's a vaccine that could help protect humans, and really reduce Strigoi's capacity to feed, but you have to actually apply them to humans. And more and more supernatural events are being sloppily covered up since the Alchemists are otherwise preoccupied.

I'm sure there are some valid reasons for the masquerade, and humans might not behave amazingly towards supernatural creatures, but leaving them completely helpless to this threat isn't very ethical, and certainly not when you have a vaccine that could help them.

And honestly, as cliche as that argument is in discussions of monster hunting, humans could potentially take the Strigoi out, we have some pretty amazing weapons. Or we could be massively incompetent about a problem that we are fully capable of solving. You know...

So the supernatural world gets revealed, and that makes the Alchemists pretty obsolete. Of course, although they have been weakened by the decade(s) of infighting, that doesn't mean they lose all of their resources and connections all at once, but it would be a huge blow their relevance.

They get splintered into a lot of different groups that can still cause trouble, but they're no longer the omnipresent shadow organization they used to be.

And if this whole process took about 15 years, Declan and his buddies would be neatly protagonist aged in time to deal with the huge upheaval and the new mess of problems brought on by the integration of the Moroi and human world. And he'd more capable of thinking about his own relationship to the spirit vaccine and making his own decisions.

So most of this post was written to be understood whether or not you read Silver Stars, but this final bit is more about what could directly follow. When it comes to the fic I was more worried about the characters and their feelings, and excuses for domestic fluff and hurt/confort. So here's the fic on AO3 and on Tumblr.

In the end of The Ruby Circle, there's indication that Zoe Sage and Stanton, with the incentive of Sydney's blackmail, will be trying to reform the Alchemists. I don't really think they're reformable, attempts to extinguish re-education would basically result in rebranding. @sydneysageivashkov has some lesbian!Zoe head that I think are pretty compatible with my headcanons for an Alchemist revolution, and what Zoe would be doing during that initial period.

I think it could take a few more years, 3 or 4, for Sydney to actually have to leave her home and go into hiding. Declan foes actually get a little bit of a normal school experience. I imagine this whole process going very slowly, as the situation gradually deteriorates. And the witches would now claim Sydney as one of their own, making it a bigger problem for the Alchemists to attack her directly, lest they make enemies of the whole magical community.

By the time Sydney has to go into hiding I imagine Zoe is gonna have to leave the Alchemists as well. The other reason why I chose Emma for the first fic, is that she was in re-education in part for her sister's actions, so it shows that the Alchemists wouldn't be above hurting Zoe for Sydney's actions.

Sydney has very important reasons to join the revolution, and in fact she might eventually not have a choice, but she knows that once she officially breaks her truce with the Alchemists her whole family and even her fellow re-education inmates that she got amnesty for.

I imagine Sydney, Adrian, Eddie and Declan could spend a while hiding in a ranch very out of the way that Chantal and Duncan got themselves. Insert Adrian joke about that escape plan where cute blonde girls had to wear cow girl outfits.

Duncan has been shown to be pretty hesitant to risk going against authority, and Chantal is even more psychologically messed up than Sydney and the rest of them. Sydney feels pretty awful about placing them in danger, but they're both very grateful to her for helping them escape. Also Chantal is a really badass witch, although a bit unstable, I'll eventually find something to do with that, revolution wise.

But Sydney and Adrian would eventually leave and get more active roles in the revolution. I would very much like it to be an actual collective movement and not one special girl bringing down the Alchemists by herself, but I think Sydney would have a pretty prominent role after everything she went through.

This is way too long, but I had fun with it, and if you got this far, thank you for reading 😀

#Rapha's Bloodlines Tag #sydney sage #adrian ivashkov #declan ivashkov #zoe sage #bloodlines series #bloodlines #Alchemist revolution #headcanons #sydrian

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qqueenofhades · 4 years

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Everytime I read "Nicolo di Genova" my brain glitches and I read "Nicolo do Genovia" instead so /whispers/ Kaysanova Princess Diaries AU?

...yes. Did someone say Gay Champagne Romcom? Because that is my Brand.

Nicolò is an Italian-American graduate student living in New York City with his widowed Italian mother and working on an engineering degree at NYU. He was thinking about joining the priesthood for a few years and recently dropped out of seminary and is feeling that Millennial Crisis that all of us know about. He has gone on a few Tinder/Grindr dates, but it’s hard enough to meet someone in this city even when you’re not a gay ex-priest engineering student living in his mother’s rent-controlled apartment in Morningside Heights because have you seen the property prices in New York. Plus WHENEVER he brings a nice boy home, HEY PRESTO there’s his mom waiting eagerly up in the front room, “NICOLÒ WHO IS THIS HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, DOES HE HAVE GOOD PARENTS, IS HE A CATHOLIC NICOLÒ” and of course that instantly kills any kind of romantic mood. Nicolò is like “let’s just go over to yours PLEASE.” But he tends not to see his dates again anyway, and it’s equally depressing, and it’s nice that his mom isn’t homophobic or anything, but he’d like to just meet someone without his mother instantly planning the Big Fat Gay Italian Wedding, and yes he knows this is a nice problem to have but STILL

Anyway, then of course the Dead Dad Circus rolls into town, and Nicolò learns that he’s not actually the son of a nice hardworking Italian immigrant, but of His Serene Highness Prince Domenico Grimaldi of Genovia, who wouldn’t you know it, has recently died too young from cancer and left no legitimate heir except the result of his rebellious teen fling with a cocktail waitress in Capri – which would be, you guessed it, Nicolò. While Nicolò is still processing the horrifying mental image of his mother being a cocktail waitress in Capri and having to look up Genovia on a map, the rest of the royal machine is kicking into overdrive. This involves a very awkward meeting in a very fancy Manhattan hotel with Nicolò’s magnificent but rather out-of-touch royal grandmother, Her Serene Highness The Queen Mother Maria Elisabetta Henrietta Julia Victoria Mignonette Grimaldi of Genovia. She’s basically Julie Andrews because obviously. She informs Nicolò of his Solemn Duty to return to Genovia and become Prince Nicolò and eventually be prepared to take the throne and submit to a fascinating life of minor European royal family ribbon-cutting duties. Oh, and getting married and producing more heirs to the throne, on pain of breaking a thousand-year-old bloodline, though she doesn’t say this out loud. Her loyal right-hand man, driver, and general bodyguard/fixer/man about town, Sebastien le Livre aka Booker, gives Nicolò various sympathetic looks but does not interrupt.

Nicolò obviously freaks out and runs off to call up his best friend at NYU, Andy. Andy is some indeterminate degree of years older than him, in some indeterminable stage of her Classics PhD, and sometimes says weird things like how badly the Library of Alexandria had already been defunded by the Roman emperors before it finally burned, like she was there and holds a personal grudge about it. She is a cranky vodka-drinking lesbian who rides a motorcycle, gets them into periodic scrapes, and understands his shit dating life. She deeply empathizes with all his “I’m not going to run away and leave my life in New York to become part of some creakingly antique regressive imperial monarchic system of racist and homophobic oppression, NO SIR!” Fight the power, Nicolò. Fuck those guys.

Of course, however, Julie Andrews Grandmother Maria prevails and Nicolò is forced to take Prince Lessons, which he hates but tries to be a good sport about, because, well, he’s Nicolò and he’s a good person. He is then whisked off on a private plane to Genovia, because they want to see him in situ before they make a final decision on accepting him as their prince. There of course we have the high-life palaces and parks and snooty clueless aristocrats who look at Nicolò like he’s a prize racehorse and have absolutely zero clue, none, nada, about the real world. Just as Nicolò is about to firmly decide that this is a complete crock of shit and he’s going back to NYU, he meets….

Prince Yusuf “call me Joe” al-Kaysani.

Joe is a minor member of one of the Middle Eastern royal families, some fictional tiny Gulf kingdom that is super SUPER oil rich. He has a title and a lot of money but doesn’t have a clearly defined role in the family, other than that he’s been ordered not to embarrass it. Nicky does not know this when they first meet, but obviously it’s not possible to be an out gay prince in a conservative Arabian-peninsula Islamic kingdom, and therefore the fixers have arranged for Joe to be publicly dating a daughter of the Malaysian sultan, Quynh. (We are making her Malaysian in this instance so she can also be Muslim and hence an appropriate match for Joe.) Except Princess Quynh is also hella lesbian and is getting the same thing out of the fake dating with Joe that he is, i.e. throwing people off the scent of their real selves. They spend their time together in private eating popcorn, commiserating about their lives and crazy royal families and the press invading their privacy, watching romcoms, and Judging the Straights. They’re actually best friends and text each other all the time, so at the royal function where Joe runs into the stiff and nervous and clearly overcompensating New Guy who’s evidently the New Prince of Genovia, and oh my god Q he’s the Most stuck up person I’ve EVER MET, Quynh is the first to hear ALL about it. She immediately suspects that Joe doth protest too much.

Meanwhile, Nicky meets Nile Freeman, another young American (from Chicago, obvs) who is working at some important EU institution currently headquartered in Genovia. They also hit it off and Nile tells Nicky about the things she wants to do to help change the world and why she’s here, and he is moved by her kindness and altruism and remembers that that was what he wanted too, and why he joined the priesthood in the first place. He opens up to her about the shock of learning the truth about his now-dead dad and the crazy whirlwind he’s been sucked into and how he doesn’t know what to do, and their friendship is beautiful and we love it.

Meanwhile, of course, Nicky and Joe keep running into each other and getting on each other’s nerves, Nicky is thisclose to calling up Booker and ordering him to deport Joe because why is he always here (Booker, of course, will eventually become a secret ally in helping them see each other, but that is not quite yet). There is some Shenanigan where they end up both getting into trouble, Grandmother Julie Andrews is not amused, and finally they are forced to sit next to each other for a whole state dinner and Be Polite, because Genovia is trying to forge better relations with Joe’s kingdom. (Genovia is tiny, ancient, and broke, Joe’s kingdom has obviously a ton of money, there are old historical ties between them, some Genovians traveled to the kingdom in the past, Genovia’s trying to improve its human rights record and take in more refugees, etc. Nile is also helping with this last). So Nicky and Joe get ordered to fake a highly convincing bromance and pretend they’ve been best buddies all along (think Red White and Royal Blue) and that means they have to actually learn about each other and spend time together and ugh, he’s a spoiled rich playboy brat, and ugh, he’s a clueless American who thinks he’s better than us, and…

Oh no.

Yes, of course they fall in love, they deny it as hard as they can, Nile and Quynh and Booker are all increasingly exasperated by their attempts to pretend they’re not, and finally they kiss and make love and admit their feelings and that they want to be together. Then of course they get outed by some scheming evil cabinet minister (Merrick) who doesn’t want Nicky to become king and disapproves of him dating (gasp) a MUSLIM WHO IS ALSO A MAN, and there’s a huge scandal and a ton of drama and the usual Romcom Breakup Angst as they decide whether they can still see each other. Andy flies out to Genovia to comfort Nicky, Booker has a Word With The Queen, and Joe hides in his room until Quynh (along with Nile, who she’s met and hit it off with) appears to tell him that he has to be brave, she’ll help.

Anyway, etc etc., Drama, “I love him no matter what, if you don’t accept him you don’t accept me and your STUPID BLOODLINE CAN CHOKE” speeches from Nicky, Julie Andrews sees the light, they decide that Nicky and Joe can keep seeing each other, and it’s all rather sweet. There’s a lot of public relations to be managed and whether Joe’s family is going to disown him and what this will mean for the whole international relations thing, but… one thing at a time.

Nicky agrees to become Prince of Genovia as long as he can be with Joe, Joe decides that hey, he likes Nile too and there’s plenty of meaningful work to be had here and the three of them can join forces to do good things and he’s going to stay, and the Genovian public obviously comes around and loves them. Nobody can find Princess Quynh. It’s rumored she ran off to America with a cranky vodka-drinking PhD student of indeterminate age and was last seen on the back of a motorcycle heading west.

Everyone lives happily and gayly ever after.

The End.

#the old guard fanfiction #joe x nicky #kaysanova #anonymous #ask

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darthkvznblogs · 3 years

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Saw the new chapter, nice! BTW, how would the various characters celebrate Pride Month?

Apologies, I've been busy with last chapter's reviews!

Wowza, that's a huge ask - I've made a conscious effort to normalize LGBTQIA+ identities in my stories, so there's a lot of ground to cover here! There's also a minor issue in that most of the current stories are set in 2012, which is quite a different landscape in regards to the acceptance of the LGBTQIA+ community compared to nowadays.

With that in mind, I'll try to go for the "ideal" celebration (and I'll throw in the characters' gender identities and sexual preferences, since I've already got those in my ongoing character database). Obviously, this only applies to the characters as portrayed in the Kryptonverse!

(This is a long one, so I'll add a "read more" thingy for the sake of those who aren't interested.)

- I think Luz would take Pride Month as an opportunity to more overtly explore her gender noncomformity; much like was showcased in the Grom episode, she might try on different outfit combinations, different pronouns - whatever makes her feel closer to her ideal self. I think her stint in the Boiling Isles would only make it that much clearer how truly silly it is for other people to try and dictate what she should look or behave like. Luz currently identifies as a bisexual, cisgender woman, but she has found comfort in identifying as nonbinary in the past, and there's really no telling how she might feel in the future.

- Kryptonian society had a great many issues, but a resistance towards gender variance and non-heterosexual preferences wasn't one of them - as long as you followed the strict life path set up for you by the Empire, of course. Kara is still confused about the human attitudes towards this subject, and angry that they affected Alex and Lena negatively in their youth. I think she'd celebrate Pride Month by pushing the Avengers to champion causes that protect the LGBTQIA+ community - not that they need much convincing. Think parades, lobbying for legislation, impassioned speeches, and million-dollar donations to worthy charities - whatever it takes to make sure people know where their heroes stand on this issue. Kara is a pansexual cisgender woman, Alex and Lena are lesbian cisgender women, Tony is a pansexual cisgender man, Steve is a (closeted) bisexual cisgender man, Natasha is an aromantic, bisexual, cisgender woman, Clint is a biromantic, heterosexual, cisgender man, and Rhodey and Bruce are both heterosexual, cisgender men (the Hulk himself is pansexual though).

- Not that Ben was against it before, of course, but I think gaining the ability to swap bodies (and genders, depending on the transformation) at will would give him a much greater appreciation for people who suffer from dysmorphia or otherwise don't gel with the body they were born with. I think he'd champion trans causes specifically during Pride Month - much to the anger of his parents, both conservative politicians. Ben is a bisexual, cisgender man, Julie is a bisexual, cisgender woman, Kevin is a heterosexual, cisgender man, and Gwen is a (currently questioning) bisexual, cisgender woman.

- It's kind of a spoiler to talk at length about Chloé's relationship with her own preferences. Suffice it to say, she would be very much opposed to Pride celebrations initially, but may or may not radically change her attitude as her journey goes on. Chloé is a lesbian, cisgender woman. Adrien is a bisexual, cisgender man (with GNC tendencies as he grows up), and Marinette is a bisexual, cisgender woman.

- Nico obviously didn't grow up in an environment conducive to the acceptance of his being gay. I think there's still a lot of internal self-loathing there, even as his boyfriend and his friends have greatly helped to coax him away from it, and that might manifest as his reluctance to participate in Pride celebrations. I think once he's convinced to attend a Pride parade once, though, it would make a world of difference going forward! Nico is a gay, cisgender man.

- Ellie has never given much thought to her own identity or preferences. She's felt attracted to all kinds of people, but never enough to want to act on it. It's possible that she's aro/ace, or somewhere on that spectrum, but even that feels like an ill-fitting piece of clothing. She is fiercely protective of Danny, though; poking fun or attacking him for being trans is a surefire way to make her go all out against you. She'll happily celebrate Pride with Danny and friends, too. Ellie doesn't currently subscribe to any romantic or sexual preference, but does identify as a cisgender woman. Valerie is a bisexual, cisgender woman. Danny is a heterosexual, transgender man.

- Pidge used to comfortably identify as a straight, cis woman, but her stint as Pidge Gunderson and the subsequent massive expansion of her knowledge of gender identities and sexual preferences due to her travels as a Paladin of Voltron have let her more solidly (ironically) identify as genderfluid and pansexual. She'd have a blast teaching Allura and Coran all about Earth Pride celebrations, and I'm sure she's eager to teach the people of Earth just how little they know about what's out there. Pidge is a genderfluid, pansexual individual (identified as female during Close Encounters, but don't let that fool you!).

- Saiyans have a weird relationship with gender and sexual preference. The average Saiyan is mostly free to do and be whatever the f*ck they want in this regard, but there is definitely a culture of male superiority, and a stigma towards trans Saiyan men, specifically - it's seen by traditionalists as "women trying to rise above their station", much in the same way as marrying between Saiyan classes is scorned. Caulifla and Kale don't have that kind of baggage, though, growing up on Xandar - their dithering about being with each other is just your classic awkward teenage romance, nothing to do with their both being women. Caulifla and Kale both identify as lesbian, cisgender women.

- Dipper may be a straight man, but he's the best damned ally you could hope for - fiercely protective of his pansexual twin and bisexual girlfriend. He's got every opposing argument memorized, and a counterargument ready to go - you do not want to debate him, and he will track your ass down if he catches you trolling/hating online. Mabel becomes even more of a living vortex of glitter and gloss during Pride - sweeping away the more muted Tulip, who'll happily settle for a little bisexual flag pin or sticker on her computer. Hard not to find Mabel's enthusiasm infectious, though! Dipper is a heterosexual, cisgender man, Mabel is a pansexual, cisgender woman, and Tulip is a bisexual, cisgender woman.

That was a lot! I hope it was an enjoyable read, though! @the-literary-lord

#ask box #kryptonverse #supergirl #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #danny phantom #trans danny #the owl house #miraculous ladybug #dragon ball super #gravity falls #infinity train #percy jackson #pjo series #voltron #vld #ben 10 #happy pride 🌈

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter four)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

Please reblog this post and comment over on Ao3!

Huge thanks as always to my lovely betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who put up with my hurting them in this way.

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With war declared across the kingdom and one of the biggest threats his people have ever faced looming closer by the day, Mollymauk needs to grow up fast. A difficult task, when mistakes of the past keep coming back to haunt him and Caleb.

Warning: this chapter includes a description of physical scars caused by whipping, mentions of physical and mental abuse

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There was a summons waiting for him in his chambers but Mollymauk never saw it. He knew where to find his father.

“Caleb, with me,” he heard himself say as they stopped outside of the king’s council chamber, though his voice felt like an echo in an empty room, “Yasha, stay with Jester for me and my mother, if you can find her. Fjord to the docks, I need information, go and talk to whoever you can to find out what my father won’t tell me. Caduceus, same from the temples please. Beau, I need you to look into the city’s defences and armouries, find me any gaps and tell me how we can plug them fast.”

They all moved quickly, each of them seized with the same fear driven energy he felt in his own nerves. All but his sister, who stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on him and swimming in the candlelight.

“I should go with you…” she began without much hope in her voice.

Molly put his hands on her shoulders, “He...he won’t be in the best of moods, Jessie. Let me speak to him, I’ll come and tell you everything as soon as I know what’s happening.”

Still she didn’t move, trembling slightly like she couldn’t bear to break his hold. When had she gotten tall enough to nearly look him in the eye?

“You’re going to have to go away, aren’t you?” she whispered sorrowfully.

Molly opened his mouth, then quickly closed it, realising for the first time that she was right. He was the crown prince. He would have a battle command. He who deliberately breezed through the palace in see through silks, flirting and joking and glittering his way through everything and actively avoided being taken seriously so no one would think to look too close and see the cracks underneath. He was going to have to lead an army.

He made himself take a breath in, working his lungs like a set of bellows. Judging by the look on Jester’s face, she wasn’t much fooled by the smile he pinned in place.

“We’ll sort it out,” he said firmly, squeezing her shoulders, “Go find mother and look after her for me, you’re the only one who can make her smile.”

He caught Yasha’s eye as she put an arm around Jester and led her gently back down the hallway. The smile slipped off like an ill fitting dress. Things were very, very bad and there was so little that any of them could do about it now.

Molly turned to the heavy oak doors and sighed. The rest of the night up until this moment felt like some dream, something he’d read about in a fairytale once. He couldn’t decide if he was grateful for the last taste of freedom and joy or if it only made it hurt worse.

As his shoulder, Caleb edged a little closer, reminding Molly that as still and dead and silent as everything felt, he wasn’t alone. His heart ached to know what he’d been about to say as they’d danced together but he knew now it was the silly, selfish want of someone who didn’t have to keep a broken kingdom together with his fingertips.

But Mollymauk was glad to have him by his side right now.

The news didn’t seem to have roused the king from any slumber. He was at the head of the council table, blue eyes sharp and aware, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. His council members were the ones who looked like they’d been dragged from their beds, clucking and squawking over each other in robes and hastily thrown on cloaks, faces slack with sleep and fear.

“Father,” Molly cut through the clamour with a strength in his voice that he didn’t feel, “You and I need to talk.”

“It would seem that way,” his father answered, effortlessly casual, “Clear the room. My son would like to be brought up to speed.”

It happened quickly, it would seem that no one was eager to linger here. Once they were alone, Molly made himself look the king in the eye and squared his shoulders.

“The Jagenoths, father? You couldn’t have picked a less bloodthirsty kingdom to antagonise?”

The king’s eyes were piercing as they fixed on him and he gave a dismissive grunt, rising to go refill his goblet from the flagon of red that was always kept close at hand.

“Precisely what this kingdom needs right now. More jokes and witticisms from it’s heir…”

Molly flared, “Apologies, father. It's so hard to keep track of what you want me to actually take seriously and what you’d rather keep me blind to.”

His father’s shoulders tensed, his voice deadly quiet and movements precise as he looked out through the window over the restless city, “Is this a conversation you want to have now, son? Right now?”

“No,” Molly admitted, catching the brief warning glance from Caleb at his side and forcing himself to calm, “The conversation I want to have is how the fuck we’re at war all of a sudden with absolutey no warning. I mean, for crying out loud, father, the Jagenoths were at the fucking harvest ball this year.”

“Do you now, Mollymauk? You wouldn’t rather slope off to your apartments with your colourful gaggle of friends and pretend this all isn’t happening? I could leave this all to my seasoned generals...”

Molly swallowed hard, feeling an old tremble run through his fingers. Gods, it shouldn't have been as tempting as it was. Beside him, taking advantage of the king’s turned back, Caleb gave him a steady nod.

“No,” Molly’s voice was firm, “You either take me as your heir- all of me, even the parts you don’t like- or you let me go. And being your heir means having your trust. Do I have your trust, father?”

The pause could have been a lifetime for how heavily it weighed on Mollymauk’s shoulders. But eventually, the king turned, his face unreadable.

“I have had several...investments in Shady Creek Run over the years. Ones that have turned sour of late and apparently the Jagenoths aren’t willing to settle it like businessmen. They would rather settle it with blood and steel.”

Molly gaped at him, “What kind of investments are worth invading a kingdom?”

His father simply looked at him with that same inscrutable expression, waiting. Eventually the realisation bled into Molly’s mind and his shoulders slumped. There was only one kind of business that was done in Shady Creek Run.

“You’ve been smuggling. You.”

“Now, son-”

“No!” Molly’s dismay could pass enough as reckless bravery that he bulled over his father, unwilling to listen to another word. He shook his head, stunned, “You, who’ve been going on and on at me for so long about upholding the godsdamned family honour, have been working with fucking pirates and smugglers? Have mercy, father, are you a king or a crime lord?”

“Hold your damn tongue!” Babenon snapped, face hardening, “Remember who you speak to son, with that tone of self righteousness. You know nothing of what I face every single day to keep you in your finery, the things I’ve had to do to keep the walls of this city standing! You know nothing of being king!”

Molly flinched, he couldn’t help it, bending under the weight of that voice and those eyes. Beside him, he felt Caleb tense and shift his feet. And suddenly, Sorah was there, looming from the shadows that had cloaked her, fingers flexing in warning.

Molly swallowed and bowed his head, the bravery collapsing in on itself, hollow after all, “Forgive me, father. I...I just fear for what’s going to happen now. For my city and my friends. I’ve heard stories of the Jagenoth, of Lorenzo. They say he’s ruthless.”

“He’s all you’ve heard and more, son,” there was a softer, more satisfied tone to his voice now he’d won, “But so is your father. Do exactly as I say and we will make certain he never sets eyes on Asarius.”

Molly nodded, crossing his hands behind his back and feeling the ghost of a stinging slap against one cheek. I’ve never doubted how ruthless you are, father. I just never imagined you were so foolish.

“Perhaps I have been unfair to you, son,” Babanon mused after a long pull from his goblet, “Your leash has been kept short of late while I waited for some sign you had truly grown out of your immature ways. But your interest in the city’s charitable needs and the love you’ve won from our citizens could be of use to me, especially now our kingdom must close ranks against these invaders. This is the energy I needed to see from you...if I direct it in the correct manner.”

Molly’s eyes flickered up to his father’s.

“It is time for those swords to become more than pretty ornaments at your hip, I think. Our master at arms speaks highly of your skill and you have a close knit group of allies who trust you. And with a fine Volstruker at your side, one our good friend Ikithon values so highly, you could cut quite the intimidating figure, a pretty show of our house’s strength..”

Molly frowned, doubtful, “We’re going to barter with the Iron Shephard?”

“Babenon Dosal does not barter, Mollymauk,” the king’s smile became something hungry, “We are going to crush him.”

There was so little time to think.

Molly felt like he was barely holding on, thrown from one emergency council session to another, bounced between strategy meetings and drill training, from an argument about supplies to one about conscription. Things went by in scattershot fragments he could hardly hold on to. It was all just worried eyes, tight mouths, questions no one dared ask. He found himself making rousing speeches in front of formed up soldiers that just two days ago had been dyer’s apprentices, washerwomen, pot boys and stablehands. And in a week’s time, if he couldn’t find a way through this, they would be corpses.

The days until they rode out turned to smoke on the wind. In simultaneously no time at all and more years than he thought he’d ever seen, it was the eve of their departure. Tomorrow morning, the city would watch them ride out of the gates, throw flowers and wave the royal heraldry, call them heroes, all while either ignorant of or willfully blind to the fact that every tragedy this war would fall on them was because of the people they cheered. It was that, rather than any nerves, that made his stomach clench in nausea.

The prospect of the goodbyes he now had to make didn’t help.

Molly took his time down the steps to the courtyard. A cold wind was blowing, as it had seemed to ever since the news came, and he shivered in the training clothes and the sheen of sweat he wore. His mother, at least, was wrapped in fur as she stood by the carriage, the hood pulled low over her face. Few people were supposed to know of her leaving, lest it be too obvious that the king was planning for the worst, for all the bravado and easy confidence in his speeches.

“You should be in the carriage, mother,” Molly said gently as he approached her, close enough that he could see the glint of her eyes under the fur, “No need to be out in the wind.”

“I have more to worry about than the weather, little amethyst,” Queen Marion turned her head slightly to look at him as he stopped at her shoulder, “You have been in the practise yard again?”

Molly shrugged, “I’m packed and ready to ride at dawn. Not much else to fill the hours and Beau always tells me a minute’s worth of practice can make the difference in a fight.”

He’d hoped to give her some courage, some confidence in his ability to protect himself, but in the shadow of the hood her handsome face turned tight and anxious, “Are you sure you can’t be left as castellan? Surely your presence is needed here…”

Molly smiled grimly, “Jester is every bit as capable as I am. She’s so much smarter than everyone gives her credit for.”

“I don’t doubt her,” Marion shook her head, “But allow a mother her selfish wishes to keep her children out of harm's way.”

Molly reached across the distance between them and squeezed her hand inside the folds of her cloak. No matter the circumstances of his birth, no matter how frayed and difficult things grew between him and the king, Marion had never once treated him as anything but a beloved son.

“I’m of age, mother. Now it’s my turn to selfishly protect you. You’ll be safe back in Nicodranas...it must at least be some comfort to see the city again?”

“I have wanted to return for a long time,” Marion sighed, her tone careful with the weight of all her marriage had become behind it, the arguments and the distance and the coldness, “But not like this.”

“I’ll see it one day,” Molly promised, “Soon. After the war, even, I’ll come and get you and you can show me and Jessie all of it.”

Her thumb ran over his scarred knuckles and she smiled the kind of smile a mother gave her child when they were telling her some fancy, “I would like that...where is Caleb? I so rarely see you without him these days.”

“He went to go and collect our maps from the library. We’ll be going into the forests and even with Caduceus on hand, it’s best to have the routes laid out,” Molly explained, trying to smile comfortingly and sound jovial, “We’re only looking to loop around the border and turn back any other raiding parties. Father’s the one riding to face Lorenzo head on. Likely the war will be won and done by the time we catch up with him. We’ll find the old man throwing victory feasts in the ashes, no doubt.”

Marion’s expression didn’t change. She never had been taken in by his affectations the way everyone else seemed to be.

“Just promise me you’ll come through safely,” she murmured, “And...keep Caleb by you. The two of you are stronger together.”

A pinkess rose on Molly’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold, “Mother…”

“Just promise me,” Marion sighed, “I worry about you less when I know he’s with you.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, “I mean, he’s my...he’s my guard. He was trained for things like this. Where else would he be?”

Marion made a soft noise that was neither agreement or dissent, “Yes. His training. Of course.”

“Get on the carriage, Mother,” Mollymauk groaned.

At least she had a smile on her face as she leaned up to kiss his cheek, even if it couldn’t last as he helped her onto the carriage and stood to wave as it disappeared through the castle gates towards the docks. As soon as she was gone, a mournful kind of quiet seemed to settle around the place.

One down.

Jester’s bedroom was right next to his own, it always had been even though the royal apartments allowed for much more of their own space. They’d just never wanted to be any further from each other.

When he knocked and pushed back the door, he saw her at her desk under the window. Whenever something was upsetting her, his sister could usually be found painting. But this time, as he came closer, he saw it wasn’t paper and well worn watercolours spread around her. It was account books, ledgers, dusty old things she’d clearly dredged up from some corner of the seneschal’s office.

“Trying to put yourself to sleep?” he hummed, standing behind her chair.

Jester sighed, the edge of her cheek that he could see past her hair flushing pink, “I’m just...I’m going to be in charge after you and father leave tomorrow. I want to make sure I do a good job.”

Molly sighed gently and passed his hand over her hair, “You will, Jessie. Father wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t trust you.”

She made a rude, rather un-princess like noise, “He has no choice. Mama’s gone and tomorrow so will you…”

“He could ask me to stay,” Molly said firmly, deftly pulling her hair back into a braid, “Mother could be staying here in the castle. But he isn’t. He’s putting our capital into your hands because he knows how smart you are and how much you care. He knows you’re the kind of princess the people need right now.”

Under his fingers, Jester shifted and sighed, eventually unable to bear it any more and whirling around, launching herself upwards and clasping her arms around him hard enough to hurt.

“It just won’t be the same without you,” she whispered thickly.

Molly swallowed hard to keep his own tears out of his voice, “I’ll miss you, Jester. But it won’t be long until we see each other again, I promise.”

He let her tremble and sniffle for as long as she needed to, before pulling back to kiss her head, right between her horns.

“Come now. I’ll miss the whole bloody battle, the route father’s got me taking all around the borders. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jester repeated. Molly hoped he’d sounded more convincing than she did.

“And no putting TravelerCon down as an official holiday while no one’s looking,” he teased, jostling her lightly, “Or if you do, make sure it’s when I’m back.”

Jester giggled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve before flushing lightly pink and dropping her gaze from his, “Okay...um...make sure Beau and Yasha come back safe for me?”

Molly smirked, “Oh? What makes you say that, little sister?”

“Shut up!” she punched his arm, fighting a smile, “Just do it.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, “Though it’ll more likely be the two of them dragging my skinny ass out of trouble.”

“Good...and stick with Caleb.”

Now it was Molly’s turn to feel his cheeks warm, “Have you and mother been talking about me by any chance?”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m not making a single connection between you and him riding off to war together and the fifty million smut books that start in pretty much exactly the same way…”

Molly wrinkled his nose, “Please do not tell me how you know that.”

“Worried I stole yours from under your pillow?”

“You little…” he flicked her nose lightly before the real emotions began to well up through the cracks and he didn’t have the energy to maintain his smile any more, “Caleb’s...he’s just been hurt so bad, Jessie. And so much of it is because of me. If I put him through anything like that again, I couldn’t forgive myself.”

“That implies you forgave yourself last time,” Jester raised her eyebrows before her expression softened, “And what happened wasn’t your fault. Caleb loved you back, it went bad because of that asshole Ikithon and...and yeah, because of father.”

Molly grimaced a little, feeling the weight of those bad memories on his already frayed patience, “I just don’t want to cause him any more pain. What they did to him...he’s not the same Caleb from ten years ago. Trying to force him to be won’t do anything but hurt him more.”

“True,” Jester allowed, “But he also isn’t the Caleb who arrived at the gate six months ago, is he?”

Molly bit his lip, “No…”

“And you’re not Molly from ten years ago. So why can’t the Molly you are now and the Caleb he is now fall in love with each other?”

Molly opened his mouth and closed it again, shaking his head, “I...I just don’t see how it can be that simple. With father and Ikithon and now all of this.”

Jester frowned, “And when you’re king? And they’re gone?”

Molly felt a tightness in his ribs, the ache of want trying to force its way up through old hurts. But the idea that there could ever be a world where the kind of hate and the kind of evil that had pulled him and Caleb apart didn’t exist wasn’t one he dared hope for. How could he, when he was too much of a coward to stand up to it? When he was being raised to put on a crown and keep it all going?

“There might not even be a kingdom for me to inherit if I don’t focus on what’s in front of me,” he shook his head firmly, “I can’t think about it right now.”

Jester seemed to deflate a little but the knowing look didn’t fade from her eyes, “Fine. Focus on coming back safe.”

He ruffled her hair, “You know I will. I’ve gotten this far flying by the seat of my pants, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” Jester smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “Just don’t do anything too stupid.”

“A novel concept for me. But for you, Jester, I’ll try.”

He wasn’t planning on sleeping that night but Beau had explicitly barred him from her training ground, saying that if she saw him there rather than in his bed then Lorenzo wouldn’t even get the chance to run him through. Telling her that they’d be riding the wrong bloody way for that to happen didn’t seem to change her mind about the threat.

So he’d bid Caleb goodnight, again feeling everything unsaid between them pressing in at the edge of his words and telling himself another time. Now he lay on his back in the middle of his expansive, empty bed, waiting for a restfulness that he knew deep down would never come, staring at the ceiling until his eyes blurred and unfocused. His fingers itched for the smooth leather of his sword hilts but now, every time he imagined picking them up, he would see them lunging forward of their own free will, slicing through flesh and jarring against bone, blood running down their curved steel. He tried to imagine actually taking the life of another person, facing a foe not made of magic or sand and trying to summon the will to snuff out their existence as easily as blowing out a candle.

All Mollymauk could feel was a sickness in his stomach.

He rolled over, sighing as he pulled the blankets tighter around him to fight off the shivers. He couldn’t decide if the soft, dry sobs he heard were his imaginary victim’s or his own inside his mind, echoing back from a future he didn’t want.

Until he realised it was neither. They were coming from behind the hidden door and the veil of magic, they were coming from Caleb’s chamber.

Molly sat up, tail twitching, blankets slipping down to pool around his hips. His instinct was of course to run to him without hesitation, to slide in next to him and hold him and listen while he said all of the things he could never say outside of the circle of his arms. But that was what he would have done before.

Jester’s words came back to him. They weren’t the same Molly and Caleb and maybe, as they were now, they’d never be able to build something like what had come before. But he still cared for him, deeply, and he wasn’t about to lie there uselessly while his friend sobbed in the room next door, not after he’d comforted him before.

He pulled a robe on and padded quickly over to the door behind the tapestry, the stone floor cold under his bare soles between the thick carpets. Only he could enter without Caleb’s permission, the magic was designed to let him through as the one who’s life Caleb was bound to. But still, he knocked, hardly about to barge into the only space in the entire world that was Caleb’s alone.

His first knock didn’t stop the sobs, he had to try again and louder before they choked off and a voice came, raw and quiet.

“Mollymauk?”

“Caleb,” he answered, mouth pulling down at the fear in his friend’s voice, “Please let me in?”

“You...my prince, you should be sleeping…”

Molly sighed, resting his forehead against the stone door, “Caleb, I want to. Please?”

After a long pause, the door slipped from its seamless place in the wall, pushing inwards so Molly had to quickly right himself to avoid ending up in a heap on Caleb’s floor. The cell was pitch black, only the ragged, panicked breathing to guide him towards the pallet his friend slept on.

“Shh, Caleb, it was only a dream,” he moved slowly, giving him every chance to draw away and cling to his space but he didn’t.

One moment there was musty air under his hand and then there was soft hair, clammy, sweat soaked skin. Caleb didn’t pull back, he didn’t flinch. Giving thanks for that much, Molly awkwardly fumbled in the dark until he was sat on Caleb’s narrow bed, scratchy wool under his other hand, shaped to the trembling pair of legs underneath it.

“Just focus on breathing, okay?” Molly whispered, stroking the hair he knew was that deep, coppery red even if he couldn’t see it, “It’ll fade, I promise.”

He felt Caleb nod, one of his hands coming up to lie over Molly’s, clinging to it the way a drowning man would cling to driftwood. It happened quickly and easily after that, like falling asleep. Who moved against who, it was hard to say, like the transition moment between there being space between them and not hadn’t happened. Like Molly had always been embracing Caleb, had always had him weeping softly into his shoulder while one hand’s fingers interlaced with his own.

It felt like finally exhaling.

It would have lasted as long as Molly could make it, if his other hand hadn't eventually slipped down from Caleb’s shoulder to his back, intending to stroke slow, easy circles there just as he’d always done when they’d held each other in the night, as they’d done the first time they’d kissed, as they’d done the first and last time he’d felt Caleb’s body gently press into his own and everything had made sense.

It would have lasted forever if Molly hadn’t done that. If he hadn’t felt the raised, puckered scars under his palm.

He froze, breath catching in his throat. Caleb knew immediately what had happened and tried to pull back, tried to pull the blankets up over his torso but Molly moved faster, hand slipping further to feel just how many there were, how raised and poorly healed and angry they were, before their embrace was broken.

“Caleb,” Molly’s voice was low and level, “Turn on the lights, please.”

He saw the dark shape that was his friend shake it’s head, heard his miserable whimper.

He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay calm, measured, “Caleb, you’re safe with me, I promise. I just need to see. It isn’t an order, I’m only asking you to please trust me.”

If he had asked him to leave at that moment, to forget everything and shut the door behind him, Molly would have gone and he prayed Caleb knew that. Without so much as a word, the bare, unscented candle by the bed ignited and, trembling, Caleb turned his back on Mollymauk.

It took everything he had not to make a sound at the ruin of Caleb’s back.

Scars crossed over other scars, the messiest, most tangled delta of rivers Molly had ever seen and he understood now why he’d never seen Caleb without a shirt on since his return, they would have been impossible to hide otherwise. They were raised, almost blistered around the edges, horrible jagged things that had clearly been salted before they were given any treatment.

Molly didn’t need to ask what had made them. Or who had done it.

“Please don’t be angry, your highness,” Caleb’s voice was thin and reedy, again slipping into the cadence of an actor, albeit one who feared execution if his performance didn’t satisfy, “It was my fault, they only whipped me when I was bad.”

“Caleb,” his voice broke, eyes stinging, “Gods, what could have been worth doing this to you? No matter what they might have said, this was not your fault, this was their sick idea of punishment…”

“No, it was, it was my fault!” Caleb trembled, “They told me and they didn’t listen, they told me and I still opened the letters-”

Something inside Molly froze and splintered, “The...the letters? The letters I wrote you? They got you whipped?”

They’d been a desparate act from the beginning, he’d known that. But he’d just been so heartbroken, so wracked with grief and tortured by his own thoughts of what they must have been doing to Caleb at the Academy, what blood price he was paying for their one night together. The letters and the gold he’d pressed into merchant’s palms to have them smuggled into Rexxantrum and past the impenetrable walls of the Academy, he’d been realistic about how likely it was that they’d ever get into Caleb’s hands. But he’d just been unable to sit and do nothing, to imagine Caleb thinking he’d been forgotten. After a year or so, he’d stopped, fearing the worst and unable to keep the hope alive.

And all the while he’d been writing those awful scars across his back.

“I shouldn’t have opened them, they told me after the first one, it was my choice,” Caleb wept, “I had to learn, they said…”

“Gods, Caleb,” Molly tasted bile on his throat, “Why...why did you open them? Why didn’t you write back and tell me to stop, I would have stopped, I never, ever wanted to hurt you more, oh gods…”

Caleb pushed a hand through his hair, unable to answer for a while before his shoulders slumped in defeat. The scripted tone of his voice fell away, like a thin mask crumbling to dust, “I...I missed you so much and reading your words, it helped me keep a hold on myself. It stopped me losing who I was entirely. I didn’t want them to stop.”

It was strangely easy to sound calm now, the fury brought an odd kind of clarity, a separation he welcomed in that moment, “Thank you for showing me your scas, Caleb, hat was very brave of you. You stay here and get some rest.”

“Where are you going?” Caleb turned, still shaking with tremors that ran through his body endlessly.

“I’m going to cut Trent Ikithon’s throat while he sleeps,” Molly replied simply, like he was telling him he planned to take a spring hunt tomorrow, “A pity to give him such an easy death but can’t risk it.”

Caleb groaned, staggering up and grabbing his arm, “Molly, please, no…”

It was so hard to hear him over the crackling fire in his stomach, “It won’t take a moment, Caleb, I promise.”

“You can’t! You have no idea what kind of magic he has, he’ll hurt you!”

“He can fucking try,” Molly’s calm was cracking, the fire spreading, “I won’t suffer that bastard to take another breath under my roof, not after everything he’s done to you. First the crystals when you were just a kid and now this? I’m done, he crossed the line a long bloody time ago.”

“But your father…”

“My father can go fuck himself!” Molly roared then, the rage snapping up and wresting away the last of his composure, bouncing his voice off the walls, “He’s as much to blame! He feeds that monster like some kind of pet, he funds him and gives him that tower room to do gods know what! He’s lied to be, he’s hurt people, he’s made so many people miserable for his own gain and he wants me to be just like him! Well he’s getting exactly what he wanted.”

He moved fast enough that Caleb couldn’t keep him in place. Once again everything was rushing past him like some great hurricane, the only thing he could be certain of was the swords he took from the wall, their reassuring weight. Now he actively imagined blood running down their edge, beading on their wicked tips like rubies. He told himself how right it felt and the anger roared it’s approval.

But then Caleb was in front of him, hands on his chest, eyes wide and terrified, “Mollymauk, I’m begging you not to do this.”

“This is how my father would settle this,” Molly snapped, eyes blazing.

“But you’re not your father.”

That alone reached through the fire inside him and brought him out into the cold. Startled back into his own mind, Molly took a deep, shuddering breath and let the swords fall from his grip, now slack and useless. They hit the floor with a muffled thud.

“You’re not, Mollymauk,” Caleb continued, relief flooding into his eyes, “You’re none of them, you’re different. And that’s why you’re the only hope any of us have. You were my hope, back then, back when they were doing everything they could to break me. And now...now you’re the kingdom’s hope. And they can’t lose that.”

Molly’s face crumbled, shoulders starting to shake, “I just hate what they did to you…”

“Me too,” Caleb murmured, “But day by day I’m pulling myself back from it and it’s all thanks to you. I just need time, Molly, that’s all.”

“Okay,” he whispered, even as his voice broke, “I can wait. As long as you need me to.”

This time it wasn’t Caleb holding him or him holding Caleb. They held each other, as tightly as they could, clinging on as the dark tide rose around them and everything changed outside the door.

If they were granted a tomorrow, Molly promised himself, they would make it a good one.

#widomauk #royal au #angst #cw: scars #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #love me some Molly and jester sibling emotions #lot of angst in this one #im sorry #critical role #the mighty nein #please comment and reblog!

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justkeeptrekkin · 5 years

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Not making this too specific because there's a lot of fun directions it could go, but here's a fic I've been dying for: Ineffable Husbands at a gay club and one of them gets REALLY jealous of all the attention the other's getting from the patrons

Anon, you’ve inadvertently triggered my very niche interest in the 1980s Manchester music scene. This is so so long... apologies for that. This is also very relevant to another anonymous ask I got about dancing/letting loose, so I’m screen-shotting it here- anon, I hope you see this!

***

The year is 1984. Margaret Thatcher has won her landslide victory, and the miners’ strike has started sweeping the United Kingdom. Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) is beginning to make its mark in the papers. Madonna has taken over all radio stations worth listening to. Manchester United and Brighton drew 2-2 in the FA Cup, and the CD is now available in all good music stores.

Aziraphale is in Manchester. The North is currently filled with civil unrest due to the current political situation. Crime is rising, jobs are dwindling, people are scared for their futures. Aziraphale doesn’t often venture to The North, but when he does, it’s because something’s either gone terribly wrong or terribly well. For example, the Industrial Revolution (which had been both good and bad).

Crowley is in Manchester, too. He is in Manchester’s coolest club, The Haçienda. Nowadays, rather shockingly, Manchester is the place to be. It’s where New Order and The Smiths come to play. It’s the epicenter of British sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. It’s Crowley’s creation, and for the first time since the city’s inception, he’d been- in his own words- ‘more than happy to come and check up on it and see how it’s doing’.

The two of them run into each other one night, on a busy street outside The Haçienda.

It’s eleven-thirty in the evening when Aziraphale turns a corner and walks directly into his best friend, whom he hasn’t seen since 1975. At first, he doesn’t recognise him for the lack of handle-bar moustache, begins apologising profusely. But the apology fades away on his tongue as he takes a step back and sees Crowley, giant Ray-Bans hiding most of his face. A black suit that’s too large for him- shoulders padded. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The ankles of his trousers rolled up too, and slacks without socks. And a painfully loud red and black Hawaiian shirt.

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up above his considerable sunglasses. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley! Fancy running into you here.” Aziraphale brushes off his cream, swede, double-breasted suit jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Crowley spends a moment trying to re-roll his sleeves. Ever the perfectionist, he isn’t happy with how purposefully dishevelled he looks, and shrugs off his jacket, trying again. As he faffs, he continues, “This is my city. And it’s only just started getting really interesting. What are you doing here? What’s an angel doing in Manchester of all places?”

“Well. All this Thatcher business.”

“Oh,” Crowley nods. “Yes. Her. Coming to try and tidy up after her, are we?”

“Sort of. Lots of unhappy people, thought I’d try and perform a miracle or two.”

“Fair enough- except- except, doesn’t really answer my question,” Crowley drawls, stepping closer, sliding his hands into the pockets of his loose trousers.

The streets of Manchester are filled with party goers. Music from The Haçienda booms out, cigarette smoke pouring through the half open doorway. The bouncer eyes them suspiciously.

Aziraphale feels transfixed on the spot, Crowley’s gaze fixed on him and an amused smile playing on his lips.

“What’s an angel doing in Manchester at 11:30 on a Saturday night?”

Aziraphale stares. That hair. Some sort of miracle has gone into that hair, the way it’s been swept back and sprayed to an inch of its life to keep its hold. There’s so much volume to it, so much life that it looks like it might leap right off Crowley’s head and run away. But what’s more distracting is the way Crowley begins to pace around him, the way he always seems to do. Like he’s orbiting Aziraphale- the sun around a sunflower. And Aziraphale turns to watch him.

“It’s- you’re right, it’s not my preferred thing to be doing,” Aziraphale begins, feeling very thoroughly watched. Crowley is looking at him like he’s enjoying himself, as if he’s impressed. “I’d much rather be reading my book back home, but I’m actually here to lend some support.”

“Support?” Crowley repeats, smile still there, brows raised in interest.

Aziraphale glances at him as he continues to circle. People pass them by on the street without a second glance. The bouncer, however, looks like he’s about to shoo them away from the outside of the club.

“Support,” he emphasises. How is he forgetting his words so easily tonight? Crowley doesn’t always have this mind-numbing effect on him, but when he does, it’s awfully embarrassing. “I’m here to support the Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. They’re having a party to gather allies in the gay club here. Just down the road.”

Crowley stops at that. And if he’d looked impressed before, now he looks positively elated, smile huge and brows flying to his hairline. “You what? LGSM- that was you?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale says quietly. Smiling to himself, feeling pleased. And quite frankly, flourishing a little under Crowley’s smile. “Two subjugated parties, coming together for a common cause. Equality.”

“And riots.”

Crowley smirks. Aziraphale frowns at him.

“Peaceful protest,” Aziraphale amends.

Crowley bows his head in concession. “Of course,” he says insincerely.

“Anyway,” Aziraphale says, before Crowley can begin lecturing him. “I’m heading over there now, just to show my face. It would be very rude not to, as they had invited me. Although…”

Aziraphale swallows. Looks about the dark, lamplit streets around him and sees the people stumble along, beers in hand, empty bottles of Lambrini rolling down the pavements. People chanting football anthems as they run through the deserted roads. The red-brick, converted factory buildings illuminated by club lights.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“No,” Aziraphale asserts. Then, after being stared at for a few moments, “Yes.”

Crowley snorts. “Well, there’s only one good gay club that I know of round these parts, go there quite a lot myself.”

That brings his attention right back to Crowley’s Ray-Bans. “You do?”

Crowley shrugs enthusiastically. “Yeah, why not? Good fun.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ah- good. Well…”

“You don’t strike me as the type to go to clubs often.”

“And you’d be right.”

“So, let me get this straight- you live in Soho, gay centre of London, and haven’t been to a gay club?”

“Not knowingly, no. You’ll have to show me the ropes.”

Crowley looks at him. He looks at him with an intensity that makes Aziraphale’s neck shiver strangely, and not altogether unpleasantly. And then he sniffs, looks away, begin walking away from the club their hanging outside of. Their steps falling easily in sync, as if they haven’t been apart for more than five minutes.

“You know it’ll be loud.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you probably won’t like the music.”

“Well, I’ll judge that for myself.”

“And people will try and flirt with you. Even in…” Crowley looks him up and down. “That.”

Aziraphale glares at Crowley and side-steps a little as they walk, brushing off his jacket again defensively. Looks down at his outfit- he’s sporting a very soft, very comfortable turtle neck. And some well-fitted trousers, thank you very much. Aziraphale has never seen Miami Vice, but he has seen posters and he knows that Crowley has taken the vast majority of his fashion inspiration from the show (at least he’s now emerged from his Saturday Night Fever phase). Aziraphale thinks he has rather better standards.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like a Philosophy teacher.”

“And- excuse me, what is wrong with that?”

“You’re going to a gay club.”

“Well, my lesbian and gay friends don’t seem to take issue with my fashion choices.”

This is not, distinctly, true. They had tried to give him a makeover last week, and it had ended up with him looking like a lost member of Adam and the Ants.

“Alright, well, how about this.”

Crowley snaps his fingers- and then Aziraphale’s in a white silk shirt, buttons undone to his clavicle, the collar turned up and sleeves rolled up. White trousers- oh, Lord, no, they’re white jeans. And, well.

A little snug, at that.

“Good God,” he remarks.

“There. Suits you.”

“White jeans, Crowley. I mean, really, I think I can be classier than that.”

Crowley links arms with him and grins eagerly. Aziraphale’s back straightens and he returns his smile, a little giddily.

“Tonight, we aren’t doing classy, angel.”

***

Three hours and several cocktails later, and Aziraphale has found himself dancing something that isn’t a gavotte.

Some song about ‘needing a hero’ is playing, very upbeat and jovial it is, too. He’s dancing with the LGSM crew, glass half empty in one hand. It’s hot in here- he’s sweating horribly. And it’s incredibly loud. He doesn’t know what anyone’s saying, but they’re all having an excellent time. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air. And there are men in shorts so absurdly tiny that he doesn’t know how they keep everything in. The outfits get far more outrageous than that, too- people in full leather, people in full feathers, people in full glitter.

Gay clubs are fantastic, Aziraphale has decided.

He’s several drinks in, and Crowley has gone to the bar to buy a round for them all. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is jumping around with reckless abandon, knowing that, sooner or later, Crowley will come back. Crowley will come back and look at him in that way he does that Aziraphale doesn’t understand but makes his heart jump- a look that’s intense, yet soft, frustrated yet affectionate.

Aziraphale will do almost anything to see him look at him like that.

In the loud of the club, he hand signals something to his friends- something very inarticulate and nonsensical that’s meant to convey ‘I’m going to go look for my age-old friend Crowley, whom I have associated myself with for roughly six thousand years even though it’s technically against the rules, but I do it anyway because he’s probably the only person in this universe who understands me. Also I’m going to go help him with the drinks.’ And so he steps further into the crowd of the club- he’s lucky he’s drunk enough that he isn’t bothered by the sheer number of people- stepping on the sticky floor to find his friend.

And there.

There is Crowley, two cosmopolitans in hand. Being chatted up by a stranger.

A very large, lumberjack looking man leering at him. He has even more hair on his head than Crowley does, piled on top of it like a rodent. And then there’s the huge beard and the frankly alarmingly hairy chest, poking out of layers of denim. Crowley stares at the stranger with slightly raised eyebrows and pursed lips, listening to whatever pick-up line he’s being given with a look of heavy judgement.

And at first, Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do.

There’s no reason to be jealous, of course. Because, they aren’t together. In the coupley sense, anyway. Are they?

No we aren’t, we can’t be, he thinks. Aziraphale would know if they were. And they’d probably see each other more often if they were, rather than parting ways every decade or so only to accidentally run into each other.

But he thinks about him all the time. All the damn time. He’s the only person in this universe that he misses, really truly misses. And Aziraphale knows beyond doubt that what he’s feeling right now is jealousy- a burning, horrible possessiveness that makes his stomach churn and his chest ache. A furnace inside him that makes him square his shoulders and march over to Crowley through the sea of sweaty bodies. He knows it’s jealousy- which is not good news at all, for an angel.

Bad bad, very bad indeed. Not heavenly. Problem is, I think I love him, and there’s not much to be done about that, Aziraphale thinks to himself. Lord, I’m very drunk.

The song about needing a hero continues, its fast rhythm giving him momentum as he approaches the enormous man and an unintimidated Crowley. And then, Aziraphale hesitates. Because, he really shouldn’t be interrupting this, if Crowley enjoys this sort of thing- and he’s said he does like gay clubs, so by proxy he probably also likes the attention from other men. Which means that Aziraphale has absolutely no room to disturb that enjoyment, even if it hurts him.

And so Aziraphale stands and watches, heart breaking a little in the middle of the dance floor as Crowley smirks at the lumberjack man. Lumberjack man leans a hand on the bar and continues talking. Leans in to say something in Crowley’s ear.

Aziraphale burns.

He watches helplessly as Crowley’s smirk becomes a grimace, and he begins searching the crowd. The disco lights catch his Ray-Bans, flash a bright green. And then he seems to spot Aziraphale, because his face softens in relief, his body slumping so he almost pours the cosmopolitans down his shirt. Aziraphale watches his lips as he mouths something to him.

Help? Please?

That’s all it takes. Aziraphale doesn’t question the fact that Crowley could easily miracle himself out of this awkward situation. If it crosses his mind that actually, Crowley may want Aziraphale to come save him, it’s quickly dashed away. Yes, that thought is considered for all of point-five of a second, before being locked away and buried somewhere deep in his mind.

Aziraphale rocks up to the bar. Crowley smiles at him, extends an arm to Aziraphale and gives him one of the drinks. Then, he snakes said arm around his waist.

Oh, golly, he thinks in sudden alarm.

The song changes to something about ‘spinning me right round.’ Not that Aziraphale’s attention is on the music right now- no, it’s on Crowley, who’s wrapped himself around Aziraphale and is leaning against him sinuously.

“Sorry, love, this is my boyfriend,” Crowley shouts over the music to the disgruntled looking stranger. “Go bother some other twink.”

Aziraphale has absolutely no idea what that last part means, but it does make him laugh nervously. Crowley looks at him seriously, raises his eyebrows at him over his sunglasses. From this close, he can see the slits of his snake eyes.

“Oh,” Aziraphale says out loud- one step behind Crowley’s thought-process, as drunk as he is.

He wraps an arm around Crowley’s slim waist, and gives lumberjack his best intimidating stare. Straightening to his full height and tilting his chin imperiously. Lumberjack waves a dismissive hand at them and moves onto his next conquest.

The two of them hover at the bar for a long moment, annoying the rest of the club-goers who are trying to get to the front to make their orders. They stand there, arms around each other, both of them seemingly frozen in surprise at what has just occurred. And, apparently, not knowing what to do next.

Crowley is the first to untangle himself. His cosmopolitan sloshes down Aziraphale’s shirt, and he instantly miracles it better, without a care in the world who can see. He stands back a little- not very far. There isn’t enough room to stand that far apart. And he looks him dead on. Purses his lips, as if nervous. As if trying to figure out what to say.

Then he dips his head to Aziraphale’s ear to speak. The closeness of it-

Lord, the closeness of it. The heat of Crowley’s breath against his ear is something else. It freezes him on the spot.

“Fancy a dance, angel?”

Crowley leans back again. He looks tense and relaxed all at once. Lips parted, as if dazed. Cheeks red from the heat of the club. A sheen of sweat on his brow, shoulders creeping up to his ears.

Aziraphale nods. And then Crowley beams a sharkish grin at him- something far more apprehensive than it is happy or confident- and takes his hand.

He takes his hand, and Aziraphale lets him take him to the dance floor.

They dance. They dance to the song about spinning right round, to a song about being together in electric dreams, and then something by the wonderful Mr Bowie. Because yes, even Aziraphale knows David Bowie. And if he notices the LGSM gang waving and leering at him, making rude hand gestures and mouthing words of encouragement at him from across the room, he ignores them as best he can. Rather, he waves a shooing hand at them when Crowley’s back is turned. They’ve heard him talk about Crowley too many times for them not to put two-and-two together, apparently.

How mortifying.

That doesn’t stop them from having the most enormous fun. Crowley is absolutely delighted by the fact that Aziraphale can dance something other than the gavotte. Within the first three minutes he’s laughing uncontrollably, grinning like an idiot with how amusing it apparently is to see Aziraphale dance. When Crowley dives in to talk in Aziraphale’s ear again- a hand on his arm-

A hand on his arm-

He tells Aziraphale that he dances like a granddad. Aziraphale shouts something about Crowley being very rude and mean to him- he doesn’t remember the exact words, he’s too tipsy- and Crowley just smiles wider. They dance and shout and Crowley sings lyrics at the top of his lungs like his life depends on it, with utter dedication that makes Aziraphale’s heart swell. They continue to drink and laugh and let the night take them somewhere they haven’t experienced together before. With every song, with every terrible dance move that he shares with Crowley, he feels some weight lift of his shoulders.

And then something with a heavy beat starts playing. Something that stops the crowd from jumping and flailing. It takes too long for Aziraphale to notice, drunkenly swaying on the spot with a dazed smile pulling at his lips. And then he sees the way Crowley is standing stock still, arms awkwardly at his sides like he’s forcing them to stay there. Lips pressed together and eyes scanning the room.

Aziraphale doesn’t think about taking his hands in his, he just does it. Crowley’s eyes snap up to him, lips parting in soft surprise.

The music plays.

‘You’re out of touch, I’m out of time- but I’m out of my head when you’re not around…’

They move closer. And then they move even closer. And Aziraphale holds Crowley’s hand, holds his waist like he’s leading him in a waltz. And Crowley looks at him with brows pulled together, Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows. And they shuffle terribly awkwardly, as if they’ve both forgotten how to use their mortal bodies, forgotten what legs are. And Aziraphale supposes he should feel embarrassed, that this should feel strange. To hold his best friend like this and stare into his eyes like he has no intention of ever leaving this moment. And in a way, it does feel strange.

But more than that, it feels wonderful.

And if the song changes to something faster again, neither one notices. If the club starts to get quieter, people going home, neither one cares. And if the world really is going to end someday soon, with fire and flame and the armies of Heaven and Hell using Earth as its battle ground, neither one will leave each other’s side.

The year is 1984, and although they’re both too afraid to say it out loud, they know that they belong together.

#fic prompt #my writing #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anon

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marmolady · 4 years

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Pride

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Diego x Varyyn, Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’, if you’ve not read it, assume a happy ending). Surrounded by a barrier of friends, Varyyn joins Diego as they march in their very first Pride parade.

Word Count: 1588

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

Reviews and reblogs are hugely appreciated!

Cloaked in a dark hood, at odds with the popping attire of near everyone around him, Varyyn was wide-eyed with fascination as he stepped out of the Northbridge train station, Diego at his side. The streets were awash with colour, hues that were draped over countless flags, banners, even the skin of revelers.

Diego grasped his husband’s hand tightly. He was awash with emotion; anxiety at having Varyyn surrounded by so many people, but more than that, a feeling of belonging that he’d craved for as long as he could remember.

“This is it, Varyyn,” he uttered hoarsely. “Happy Pride!”

“I am always proud to be with you, my love.”

Taylor was grinning like an idiot-- for her, too, this was a first, as it was for Estela with whom her fingers were entwined. “We’ve got this, Diego, the rest of us should be enough of a barrier to stop anyone from looking at you two too closely.”

Giving his best friend a warm smile, Diego nodded. That he’d been touched to have ten friends putting themselves out there to give him the kind of Pride experience he’d wistfully imagined was an understatement. They had his back. “Yeah, we got this.”

He looked around. Friends surrounded him on all sides, dressed in their colours or else proudly wearing ‘ally’ pins. To think he’d felt so alone before--

“Hey!” Craig exclaimed, “If anyone gets to close to our V-Dog, I can pull off a killer diversion. I’ve been practising my moves for weeks…”

“It’s been fucking torture to watch,” Zahra said. “But, yeah, your dancing will scare anyone off, I’ll give you that.”

As they marched on with the parade, the smile on Estela’s face just grew broader. She’d never had a chance to do anything like this in San Trobida, and probably she’d have steered clear of all the fuss anyway. Since returning from La Huerta, her sexuality, the identity that came with it, meant a whole lot more. On La Huerta, no one gave a damn, and she hadn’t bothered herself with labels. Today,though, her wrist was adorned with a pink, yellow and blue bracelet.

“I didn’t know you identified as pansexual?” Quinn queried warmly. When they’d discussed these things previously, Estela had always been vague-- which had always been accepted without hesitation; but it seemed something had changed.

Estela nodded. “I didn’t think I wanted a label, but then I thought… words have power. They can make you visible. I like who I am, how I love; a lot of people where I’m from struggle with that because for so long they had to hide. Visibility is important.”

“That’s my wife! Fighting the good fight and making the world less shit, one PDA at a time.” Taylor jumped to give Estela an enormous smooch, delighting in the happy squirm she caused.

“So, uh,” Estela tried to continue, whilst her love continued to pepper her face and neck with kisses, “basically, I just… find some people attractive. And I don’t think it would have mattered if Taylor was a guy or a girl or both or neither. She’s my person. It was a weird feeling, like something deep inside me knew.”

“Aw, ‘Stel!” Taylor gushed. “As for me? Basically, I’m gay as the day is long. Useless Lesbian: Alien Edition.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Zahra scoffed. “You’re a walking fucking stereotype. If there were U-Hauls on La Huerta, maybe you wouldn’t have even needed to get hitched after what… how many weeks? Three? Four?”

Diego was quick to swoop to his friend’s defence. “Hey! La Huerta rules apply! Way too much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff to untangle.”

Quinn smiled warmly. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to one of these events, nor even the third or fourth, but to be surrounded by the friends who’d become her family made for a very different experience. She was not alone, dodging pitying whispers while she tried to embrace a side of herself that was so much more than ‘the dying girl’. And now, she had Michelle.

“Life can be over so fast; if you care for someone, there’s no shame in putting yourself out there and showing it.” She gave Michelle’s hand a squeeze, and they exchanged an affectionate glance. “Being trapped at the end of the world can do a lot to put things in perspective. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m living without regrets. Who I am is who I am; and that includes the pieces I wished I could hide from.”

Grace looked to her friend with admiration. “That’s very brave, Quinn. Sometimes accepting yourself can be the hardest thing.” Especially when the people you love can’t look at the true you and do the same. “Honestly, you’ve helped me a lot.”

Walking beside Diego, Varyyn was beginning to see why they called it ‘Pride’; he could feel it emanating from his husband, creating a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down. And the smile on Diego’s face? Varyyn was sure he’d not ever seen anything quite so beautiful. Though careful not to peer to far out from his hood, he took the time to look over each of the different coloured flags and ask about each one. A young woman jogged past, wearing a cape of black, grey, white and purple-- the same design that was plastered across Raj’s shirt.

“Raj,” he queried, “ I believe Diego told me about your colours. It is for… ‘ace’? For no romantic partners?”

“You got it! Basically, I get all the love I need from my bros. I never really felt like anything was missing, you know?”

“I understand. It’s not something my people have a word for, though I know several friends who have always felt the way you do,” he said, thoughtfully. “So much of this we don’t have words for; we just… be. I appreciate your sharing with me. And I am very grateful to be one of your bros.”

The whole experience was vastly different to anything that could exist among the Vaanti. Sexuality and gender was of so little consequence; there had never been much weight put on words and labels, there were no expectations that it be necessary. By the generally agreed upon human terms, Varyyn supposed he might call himself ‘pansexual’ as Estela did. The rainbow flag, though, was his favourite. In it he saw the jubilation of making it through a storm to something beautiful. Appropriate it was, that it meant so much to Diego, as he stepped out unafraid and loved. Varyyn looked at Diego, his husband, the love of his life; surrounded by a wall of friends, laughing on Taylor’s shoulder. He was truly radiant.

Varyyn put a hand on Raj’s shoulder. “Could I ask a great favour of you?”

“A personal favour for the elyyshar of the Vaanti? I think I can swing that….”

Taylor was chuckling as she ruffled her best friend’s hair. “So, how is it? Everything you dreamed of-- if you’d even dreamed you’d have the Knights’ bi legend Sean Gayle as part of your pride posse?”

“Pretty sure Past Diego would think you’d hit your head too hard if you’d tried to tell him this was coming. I mean, the time travel, the monsters, my best friend being some sort of knockoff ET, are unbelievable enough, but these kind of squad goals…? I…” Suddenly, he found himself choking up. If it was a life-altering adventure, he’d got it. What was left at the end of it was something that could never be truly grasped by outsiders, some bond, sacred even, that had helped him find his own strength. As he struggled to come to grips with the tatters that remained of his family life, it was that strength that would keep him afloat, and that bond that would see his heart start to heal. “I… didn’t think this feeling was possible for me.”

And Taylor hugged him tight. “You’d better get used to it, because you’re stuck with us. You deserve this. Just for being you… and also for being the world’s best wingman. The best thing that ever happened to me happened because you helped me believe in taking a leap. Diego Soto, I will never not owe you one,” she laughed.”So, for my next trick, I will pass you off to someone who wants his arms around you even more than I do. You’re welcome.

With a wink, Taylor spun Diego into Varyyn’s waiting arms, which draped an enormous rainbow flag around the two of them.

“My love,” Varyyn crooned, “you bring my world more beauty than I believed possible. You showed me hope and light in my darkest hour. Diego, you are my rainbow.”

Cloaked in a fluttering of multicoloured fabric, they kissed, long and tender; the pounding of music and marching, the chants of ‘Variego!’ fading far into the background, beyond their own private euphoric celebration.

Varyyn came away slowly, his expression warm as he stared into a look of fierce affection. How could he ever have dreamed what had been held in store for him, when this lion-hearted storyteller was beyond anything Vaanu had yet shown him. A whispered ‘I love you’ from his beloved Diego set his heart, once again, all aflutter, dancing like the rainbow flag around their heads. “And I love you.”He quirked an eyebrow. “Best Pride ever?”

Diego gave a short laugh and pecked a kiss to his love’s gentle lips. “Best Pride ever.”

#happy pride y'all #endless summer #variego #diego X varyyn #playchoices #mlm #wlw #estela x mc #estela montoya #diego soto #varyyn #raj bhandarkar

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hazelnut-icecream · 4 years

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Long post about the next and final step in my coming out journey...

I just had a long FaceTime call with my teenaged little brother... I’m coming out publicly on social media on Sunday for coming out day—even though our family is overall incredibly conservative and homophobic and I know that I’m going to lose much of the support and love I currently have from them and many people from my hometown community. I know that I’ll likely be viciously attacked by some. Luckily, I’ve come out to my parents and my father has been very supportive and my homophobic mother has faked support to maintain our relationship (which is only important to me for the sake of seeing my little brother).

I’ve always been outspoken about my leftist views. But this is different. This is about who I am. I already know it’s going to cause problems within our wider family. I may never again see or speak to some people I’ve loved very deeply my whole life. I might be shunned by the whole family. I’m prepared for all of that. I’ve been preparing myself for it ever since I embraced my identity fully and realized that eventually the time would come for me to gather the courage to live my life completely out loud. Not just because I feel that lesbian visibility and being out of the closet when in a privileged enough situation are vital to encourage those in our community who remain closeted and to strengthen our place in society... but for myself to finally feel free to just be who I am. I’m done with the secrecy. I’m done with the denial. I’m done pretending to be something I never actually was.

But I’ve been so worried about how it’s all going to affect my little brother. His late father’s family is going to say horrible things about me to him. He’s incredibly protective over me, and he’s said he would no longer support anyone who doesn’t support me in coming out, that he wouldn’t stand for any negativity about who I am whether I’m there to hear it or not. I really am so proud of him for being the empathetic, open-minded person he is despite our upbringing. But I know how much he loves them, and what a huge part of his life they are... Part of me feels selfish for putting him in this position where he’s going to feel obligated to choose between loved ones. He’s adamant that he’ll either change their minds or he’ll no longer have a relationship with them. I had to get off of the phone with him because I burst into tears because of how moved I was. Who would have thought my fourteen-year-old baby brother would be my biggest advocate, defender, and supporter in my coming out journey? My heart is so full but I’m also so full of fear for him. I don’t want him to lose their love and support because of who I am. God. What a fucking ally that kid is. I love him so much.

The most painful part is that I know were his father alive to see me come out... I’d have lost his support and respect and maybe even his love. He’d degrade me the way he degraded gay people in front of me my whole childhood. That whole part of the family is why I’ve kept who I am a secret all these years, why I suppressed my true identity all these years... but especially my stepdad. It breaks my heart knowing he’d never accept who I am. I know it is so hard for my little brother to acknowledge that fact too (though he’s very sweetly tried to reassure me that our dad would have still loved me).

I know that I need to do this for myself. I feel strongly I need to do this for our community and the future generations too. My life might be small in the grand scheme of things but I feel that this really matters. But I’m feeling very concerned and worried about the inevitable familial issues to follow. I’m so worried about my little brother and what might happen to him. I’d appreciate it if anyone who’s maybe been in a similar situation had any advice to share or maybe even if anyone just had some encouraging words or validation that I’m doing the right thing. I know what I need to do but this isn’t easy at all. 😔

#long post #personal #wlw #lgbtq #self love #lgbt #lesbian #gay #coming out #coming out of the closet #coming out story #queer

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jq37 · 4 years

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The Report Card – Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 14

Brennan Says It’s My Turn With The Daddy Issues

So we’re in hell--literally, not emotionally (at least for the moment). We being Fig, Riz, Gilear, the Hangman, and the blood-imp valet that Fig created last week who is ostensibly named Wretchrot but also picks up the nickname Baby this episode because of shenanigans. Wretchrot brings them all to where they’ll be staying, says a bunch of wild stuff in his weird Rita Repulsa voice, and drinks Fig’s blood which is what he is made of. Riz is bullied by the Hangman and misses the other half of his Nerd Squad.

Anyway, Wretchrot takes the group on a little tour of Gorthalax’s stuff starting with the library which includes books that steal souls and also legal texts (redundant). Fig looks for a book on devil dating advice while Riz looks for something on the Hellish legal system On a 17, Fig finds a Manual for Succubi and Incubi about extracting souls via the penis. More helpfully, on a 16, Riz finds out that coups are baked into the ruling system of hell and killing someone to ascend to the throne is pretty par for the course.

Next up is the hall of treasures where there are suits of armor themed to the 7 deadly sins including kinky, gimp, Lust armor they briefly consider equipping either Gilear or Kristen with (Ally breaks at that). There are also these Venitian style masks through which the people who failed to kill Gorthalax to take his place are forced to watch him do his thing.

They pass through a hall of mirrors which they realize is a kind of security system as it shows things as they really are. Wretchrot appears in the mirror as a drop of Fig’s blood. The Hangman appears as a huge puppy!!!! (OK, a hellhound but all canines are puppies). Riz holds up the photo of Kalina to the mirror and, in the mirror, can’t see her in the photo. However, he does she her in the mirror itself. She waves at him and then appears “in person”. Fig doesn’t know this is going on and asks Riz if he’s emotionally OK with the fact that they just whip out the photo of his dead dad on the regular. Riz says it’s fine but he quickly becomes less fine when Kalina asks if he'd like to see his dad. He starts to answer her out loud but she tells him that, by talking out loud, he’s tipped off Fig potentially so he should lose her and then meet her alone. The Hangman guards everyone while Riz and Fig split up, to find stuff to test in front of the mirror. Well, that’s the stated plan anyway.

Back in Arborly, Adaine is getting to check an item off of her Teen Girl Life Experiences checklist: Spilling Tea About Your Friend’s New GF. She gleefully does the whole, “I can’t tell you but I’ll tell you if you guess right,” routine before outright confirming that while crustacean shenanigans were happening in the house Fig and Ayda were sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Everyone in the group goes feral over the news, especially the Gay Squad. She vaguely recalls that Ayda also told her some information about a rune or something but everyone agrees that she retained the most important information.

They decide to call Aguefort about their coins and the rune (Kristen wisely having all the infected people leave the room). Aguefort tells them that the coins that they have comprise Kalvaxus’s hoard but not his original hoard as it has been spent and invested and put into the economy. Classic Ship of Theseus problem (ie: If you have a ship and you start replacing damaged parts of it, by the time you've replaced all the parts, is it even the same ship?). He also reminds them that spending the gold as quickly as possible is a good idea to avoid the dragon madness curse which is on all dragon gold (a weak but very hard to break curse). That prompts Adaine to describe the rune she discovered to him and he tells her basically the same stuff Ayda did last episode. She wonders if dragon madness could be the larger, static curse under which the trojan horse curse (the spellbook) is hiding. Gorgug wants to give all of the gold away and Fabian is not about that life at all.

Back in hell (literally and emotionally now) Riz prepares to meet Kalina. With a 25 Investigation, he finds a sliver of mirror that he can bring with him to keep from being tricked. He’s also mindful of being paralyzed while he’s with Kalina at the edge of a hell cliff so he anchors himself with a rope tied around his waist. Kalina is her usual aloof, darkly charming self when they speak and Riz is pretty flustered, asking if she was his dad’s familiar (no). Kalina says that Riz didn’t really know his dad and the question he isn’t asking but should be is how did his dad meet her in the first place.

She takes him to a little secret passageway which she says goes to a liminal place where he can see between the levels. She gives him the help action to get a good look (which makes Murph extremely nervous) but he only gets an 11 which means all that he sees is a cold, white light coming from the opening. He tries to use his mirror to look inside but on a 13 dex save, his footing is shaky and some rocks fall down the side of the cliff (he’s fine). Kalina says that he’s gonna have to man up and walk down the tunnel if he wants to see what’s going on. She fully reveals that she’s incorporeal and can’t actually touch him to mess with him if that helps at all.

Riz is clearly struggling with the choice but he ultimately decides that he can’t pass up this chance and that he can trust Fig to rescue him if things go south. He leaves her a note and then steps through. Within the tunnel, he can feel things watching him and hear a chittering that’s weirdly somehow coming from him. In front of him is a smoky room lit by a cone of light--think interrogation room in an old detective show. In a chair, covered in blood and shit and tattered clothes is Pok Gukgak, gagged and chained. Riz reaches for him but, as he tries to step forward, he reaches the end of his rope. Someone unseen splashes Pok with water and tells him to “confess” and “tell us what you know.” Riz pulls out his gun--his dad’s gun--to shoot out the light. As he does, a thought comes unbidden: You know what the kind thing to do with that gun would be. That shakes Riz so he lowers the gun and starts to untie himself. He’s stopped by Kalina (speaking in his mind) who tells him that if he steps in the light, he’ll be on another level of hell in the Iron City of Dis for real. Not just looking in. Riz pulls out his mirror shard and confirms that it really is his dad in there being tortured. He leaves the tunnel.

Kalina says that she knows Riz is all hopped up on doing his quest and stopping the Nightmare King but if he just stops, if they all stop, none of his friends will have to die and, bonus, maybe there will be a little rescue mission for his dad in it for him. Riz wants to know if Pok knew what her true nature was and he seems to think he cheated on his mom with her (“I know what happened between you two. I can do the math.” Which seems logistically improbable but OK). She reminds him that Pok was a spy which means it’s naive to think that every thing he did was good and taunts him about his clue hound nature before vanishing.

Riz meets up back with Gilear and Fig and he spills about everything. Gilear wants Riz to have lunch and drink some water before he does anything rash. Fig says that they don’t need Kalina to rescue Pok. They know crazy-person Bill Seacaster who’s also in hell. She lights a beacon to help him find them (if you remember, the Hangman has been attempting to contact him for Fabian). One thing I didn’t mention before is that Fig brought up the idea of temporarily installing herself as the ruler of Gorthalax's section of hell so she’d be a powerful enough devil (or devil-adjacent entity) to get them into Sylvere. Wretchrot said it was probably a no-go since she’s half mortal but, now, on a 29 Riz re-reads his legal book and realizes that Fig wouldn’t actually have to kill Gorthalax to take his place, she just needs to defeat him, which she technically has by putting him in a gem and they put that together almost before Brennan is done narrating. They have a new plan.

The other Bad Kids are discussing what Arianwyn is up to and Gorgug suggests that maybe she’s not actually working with Kalina. Maybe she’s playing along but actually has ulterior motives. Kristen looks at Arianwyn’s notes and on a 24 “Empath Roll” (Brennan converts this Ally-ism to an Insight check) sees that at a certain point, Arianwyn started making leaps in her research that were too lucky and suggest someone was helping her--possibly the entity she was researching. Adaine thinks about calling her mom using Sending or her new Sinod of Spire spell but Ayda calls Adaine and asks if she can come over. Of course she can. She comes with her recently summoned tropical fish familiar in a bubble of water--it has the very Albus Severus name of “Garthy and Adaine the Fish” which Adaine is thrilled about but also suggests shortening to GAF (and also considering reconstituting it into a cuddlier form--though the image of her dumping Boggy into GAF’s bubble is super adorable). Meanwhile, Kristen is thrilled to welcome her to “the family” because being gay is the same as visiting an Olive Garden (this is a shirt now because Ally said it which is too much power to give to Ally). Ayda kinda sucks some of the fun out of teasing her about her relationship with Fig by being extremely forthright about it but Kristen and Adaine brighten at the thought that Fig will be a lot more fun to tease.

But, back to business. Ayda has not slept because she’s been working on getting to Fig. The whole group is like, “Bitch, are you OK?” and give her an ice cream sandwich which is proper Good Friend Protocol if you have them on hand I think. Ayda is super worried about Fig and is just about ready to unmake everything standing between them (Normal lesbian move according to Kristen). They talk her down for the moment in favor of sending Fig a message: Fig you sneaky bitch. Ayda’s here. She wants to invade hell. You good? PS: OOOOOOOOOOOH. PPS: Ask Kalvaxus about dragon madness. Fig completely misses the fact that they know what’s going on with Ayda (you’d think they’d be more in sync which each others’ texting shorthand) and sends back a message saying she hopes they have fun with her but, “not too much fun,” and also that she, “is king” with no further explanation. Wild.

Ayda, who is still super keyed up to get Fig, thinks she can figure out the Planeshift spell but she needs more time to work on the spell which she could get...if they steal her dad’s time stopping pocketwatch. Considering they watched Aguefort grab the sun out of the sky the other day, they’re not super down to have a possibly adverse encounter with the man but they hear her out. While they do that, Gorgug takes his now working phone and just straight up calls the guy, explaining the situation (including Ayda’s involvement) and asking to borrow the watch. Aguefort is a little taken aback by the fact that Ayda would want any kind of contact with him at all because about 300 years back, she told him to never contact her again and that she would leave notes to her future self detailing why, which is why he hasn’t really been in her life. He lets him borrow the watch for a week (after which time it will return to him) and asks him to tell Ayda what they talked about, leaving the door open for a possible future relationship between them. When Gorgug returns with the watch and the news, Ayda breaks a little and reveals she didn’t even know she was that old. Presumably because her notes start about 150 years ago with an apology that her past self wanted a fresh start and destroyed the last several batches of notes. She hates herself for doing that and Kristen gently tries to get her to cool it with the negative self talk. Then, they hit the button on the watch and they have a week to work.

The Wizards work on Planeshift. Fabian and Kristen go to the shrine and Kristen--mirroring her vision from episode 1--sits down to draw the unknown goddess from the mural. Her Spirit Guardians emerge and start to kinda deride her for the sincerity of her action. She in turn decides that she’s done with this wishy-washy “above it all” attitude and dismisses her Spirit Guardians for good (making her, as far as I can tell, the only cleric in Solace with a 100% turnover rate on her Spirit Guardians). She finishes the picture and it feels somehow significant, to her and to Tracker too (who can look at it without wolf-raging out). Gorgug uses the time to “get smarter” which bumps his score from an 8 to a 9 (which has no mechanical implications). Ayda is also working on a side project but she’s keeping it a secret from Adaine.

In hell, the tribunal is called back in session. Fig comes in ready to claim her hell passport and the throne along with it. On a big ol’ 30 persuasion check--and because the law is on her side--Vrath is reluctantly convinced to confer upon Fig the title of arch-devil (via a full lip kiss which is some Poison Ivy bs) The new title comes with an upside pentagram mark on her forehead, full fire immunity (very convenient considering her new constantly on fire gf), and resistance to poison. However, Vraz is about to force the Hangman to stay in hell due to a legal technicality when who walks in but BILL FORKING SEACASTER, who invokes the law of the blade and immediately starts stabbing their way out of there and hustles the group to his ship (Goldenhoard’s reshaped corpse) which was indirectly named by Fig we learned after the thing that would annoy him the most--The Goldenrod.

Bill gives Fig (who is feeling iffy about her archdevil decision) a pep talk before fully signing up for the rescue mission of the dad of his son’s BFF. We also learn that Alastair Ash is interning on Bill’s ship! He’s pretty happy to see Fig and Riz but if he sees Fabian he’s fully gonna kill him. Right around now, the Bad Kids not in hell remember they can talk to the group via the Hangman and check in since the week of stopped time is up. The Hangman is like, “YOU NEED TO COME HELP US RIGHT AWAY!” They (everyone but the HangVan) Planeshift onto the deck of the Goldenrod which is being targeted by monsters and devils commanded by Vraz. Alastair makes good on his threat and starts trying to shank Fabian immediately (which Bill is hilariously blase about). Ayda opens up a portal to the sea and tries to flood Hell from the top down but Fig stops her, saying that they need to get to the second level to save Pok which seems like it will be quite a task with all the monsters Vraz is throwing at them. Luckily, Bill has money for days (and that money is somehow worth something in hell) and has a whole fleet to back them up for our big Hell Pirate Battle next episode!

Detention

Gorgug for Bad Gossip Etiquette

Look, obviously Kalina was the worst person in this episode. Like, duh. But, also, it feels like cheating to punish the Vader of the series for doing something bad. Like, yeah! That’s what she’s supposed to be doing!

So, instead, today’s dubious honor goes to Gorgug for the much less damning but more relatable sin of making his girlfriend aware of tea but not spilling it. Say it all or say nothing!

Honor Roll

Gorgug for Being More Insightful Than His 8 9 Int Would Suggest

Back to back double awards.

Wisdom is not the same as Intelligence and I actually have no idea what Gorgug’s Wisdom score is on paper but he showed a lot of in this episode.

I think he’s been the first person to suggest that whatever’s going on with Arianwyn might not be as cut and dry as it seems and then, of course, he decided to, instead of trying to Ocean’s 11 Aguefort to just slip out and have a quick heart to heart with him. One that affects him surprisingly deeply. And him bringing up his own experiences with no knowing who his birth dad was was just the chef’s kiss on top of it all.

I don’t think Brennan actually intended them to Oceans 11 Aguefort because that would be crazy, but Gorgug is the one who stepped up to solve the problem for the group with a little compassion and I think that more than earns him the spot.

Random Thoughts

Trailer for Season 5 is dropping Thursday so get hyped!

“Are you looking for the Teen Zone of the bottomless pit?”

“The fief of this dom.”

“You’re a little nerd. Tell the cool girl what you know.”

“If I had new parts, where would they go?”

I love Fabian’s confident assertion that Ayda would “love shrimp river”.

Line of the night goes to Ragh for, “Frankly, bringing up the rune in this context is homophobic.” And Adaine’s followup of, “I apologize. As an ally, I’m always learning,” was also great.

I love that the girls instantly understand Fig’s earlier hot tub comment with the new context but the boys are still clueless.

Watching Emily and Murph have their own little side adventure was so great. They are so fun together and they were clearly having a blast.

I wonder if Gorthalax can tell than Fig just got his title. Either via the title itself or his patron status.

Fig bringing up Riz’s dad to be like, “Are you OK?” caught me so off guard and it seems like it caught Riz off guard too. I hadn’t really thought about it but the fact that Fig had is just another example of her being extremely bighearted and doing a bad job of hiding it.

Emily’s impotent “rage” as all the party members loudly gossiped about her and Ayda and she couldn’t do anything about it because she wasn’t in the scene was *golden*.

Kalina leaves Riz so he can watch his dad but, if you think about it, that’s all placebo because she couldn’t do anything to him whether she’s appearing to him or not and she can watch through his eyes regardless anyway so it’s just like, “Do you want me to be visibly watching you or invisibly watching you?”

Does Kalina have, like, a range? Like, if she can literally just see out of the eyes of people that she’s infected, that limits her to a certain cone of vision and range of movement. But it seems like she can appear to a person and move independently around them to some degree, see things they can’t, point things out, and move away from them. How far away? How independent can she be? What are the logistics here?

Also, on the topic of logistics, it seems extremely hard to know someone for as long as Pok knew Kalina and not realize they’re non-corporeal. Like, even if you’re not a touchy person, eventually you’re gonna bump into them (or, in this case, not bump into them).

Man, the dice really hated Murph this week and, honestly, good. His scenes, imo, work so much better if he doesn’t get to Ally his way out of them with a Nat 20. Him being toyed with by Kalina and unsure and lost is the more interesting version of this sequence of events.

I feel like he made some big swings and misses this ep though. Like, asking if she was Pok’s familiar? Why would that have been a thing? I’m surprised he didn’t ask if he was the goddess’s familiar--though I guess they might not want to let on how much they know but bringing up the concept that she’s anyone’s familliar I think is kinda of giving the game away.

“I have a hard time making conversation with my friends, let alone you” Riiiiiiiiiiz.

Kalina brought up Kristen to Riz specifically, which I find interesting. (She also said that Kristen used to worship Sol which isn’t strictly true, she worshiped Helio, but same family and that was likely just a slip of the tongue from Brennan. Just wanted to point it out).

Who does Kalina even work for? Like, it seems like she’s working with the Nightmare King but if she’s the mystery goddess’s familiar like we all think then that’s weird because it doesn’t seem like the NK and mystery goddess are together. Like, a part of me is just dumping everyone antagonistic to the Bad Kids into the same “Bad” bucket in my head but there’s no way all of these people have totally aligned goals.

“Dragon madness 69”

It’s brought up again in this episode that some of Arianwyn’s research was requisitioned by Pok earlier which I want to ascribe significance to but I’m not in a theorizing headspace right now so I’ll just point it out for anyone who does want to play Gukgak.

I’ve been kinda wondering about the logistics of Aguefort and Ayda and how old that dude is but I totally forgot Chronoancy was a factor which I guess indirectly answers any and all questions about that. It also adds some dimension to his character that time travel is a thing that kinda makes you feel unmoored from time, which I think goes some way (though not all of the way) in explaining why he’s so feral. And, speaking of Aguefort insanity, he was also at the party Zelda was at last episode in the form of an owl as the beer pong mascot. Which Gorgug has Thoughts about.

I really really want Adaine to talk to her mom in the Synod of Spires. Have you guys realized that, for as much of a driving force Arianwyn’s been this season, she’s had almost no dialogue? She has talked I think 3 times total in all of FH: During Adaine’s intro, Apologizing to her when Aelwen was arrested, and the Message Adaine found from her last episode. That’s it. We know almost nothing about her. What is her deal? Also, Siobhan just always kills during all of her one-on-one scenes and I’m biased.

Love the return of the Bad Kids being unable to make a phone call and stealing the phone from each other to tag in with their own nonsense.

Wild that Gorgug was able to get through to Aguefort since he has a history of pissing that dude off by saying the wrong (well, “wrong”) thing.

Shoutout to Gilear for being the Designated Dad of the Hell Trip and making sure the kids were eating and stuff. That was a very endearing moment.

Also, while we’re on the topic of Gilear, he also cleared up that Sandra-Lynn never seriously propositioned him in an irresponsible, “Let me give you a Magic STD” kinda way which was something I’d been thinking about so I’m glad he said something (though the kids kinda aren’t even though I think we’re way past the point of TMI here).

“Hiss at her litigator.”

Riz, who Fig is Looking to be the Voice of Reason re: Her Arch-Devil Upgrade: This is super rad.

I’m very curious about whether Brennan fully planned for Fig to decide to take Gorthalax’s place because, on the one hand, my brain didn’t go there at all but, on the other, getting Emily Axford to install someone--possibly herself--into a position of power is like getting Siobhan Thompson to steal a book I feel.

Fig Upon Being Told That Ayda Told Everyone About Them: Fuck.

I feel like Kristen is gonna wish she had her big moment of emotional catharsis AFTER this big hell pirate fight and not before when she can’t summon her Spirit Guardians.

Man, we haven’t gotten a big, enthusiastic, “Papa!” from Fabian in a while have we?

No crits in either direction this episode which is wild considering Fig got a THIRTY at one point.

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #fantasy high live #fantasy high spoilers #dimension 20 spoilers

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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king-of-the-issues · 4 years

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🏳️‍🌈Happy pride everyone 🏳️‍🌈

I thought I’d make a ‘little’ (sorry, it’s going to be a long one and it’s going to be a bit of a mess) post about my own story and journey within the LGBTQIA+ community. Hopefully it can help educate some, maybe others will be able to relate, or you’ll just find out a little more about me.

I grew up in a fairly liberal family and area - although the area was technically conservative until very recently, I’ve been lucky enough to not have known anyone majorly homophobic or discriminatory (my grandad is a little stuck in his ways though). I’ve always been told that being ‘different’ is good and normal and there’s nothing wrong with liking someone of the same gender. Although we were never really taught anything about same-sex relationships and being the late 00s, sex education was very heteronormative. We were never told that being gay was wrong and we knew of gay teachers in the school and kids with two mums or two dads and it was never really a big thing.

I first started questioning my sexuality in my early teens, I wasn’t very ‘girly’ and I didn’t really have any crushes on boys at school. So I figured I must be gay, or at least bi. Looking back at this I can see that although I thought I was well educated, I was not. And though I may have been right in the long run, my justification and understanding of why it was so was definitely built on a lot of gender stereotypes and I wasn’t fully aware of what it meant to be gay or what my true feelings were. But I still wasn’t sure, so I just assumed that I was straight, I’d never had feelings for a girl, so why would I be gay?

I finally started to better educate myself when I joined tumblr in 2013 as a ‘Wholock’ fan blog. I started following other fan accounts who just happened to be part of the LGBTQ+ community and so would post things about themselves and their community. Through this I definitely learnt a lot more about sexuality. There wasn’t just an L,G and B, but there was a P and an A and a Q and so much more. I started watching more LGBTQ+ you tubers, tv and movies and educating myself further.

At this point I was doing my GCSEs (16 years old), I’d never been in a relationship hetero or otherwise. I hadn’t even had my first kiss and I still hadn’t really had any crushes. A boy hadn’t paid any attention to me in anything other than a platonic way in about 4 years. Some of my friends were in relationships and getting male attention, so I was still thinking, was there something wrong with me? If I’m not gay, do people think I’m gay and that’s why they don’t pay me any attention? So I started dressing more feminine and wearing more makeup in the hope that something would change. It didn’t.

When I started Sixth form in 2014 (17) I saw a film in the cinema that truly opened my eyes and I think I can say that seeing that film was the turning point and the moment I started to educate and question myself further. That film was ‘Pride’, the true story of Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. Something about this film really got me, like many other films and tv shows I fell in live with the movie and it’s characters. Only this time they weren’t just characters, they were real people, who played a huge part in LGBTQ+ history. So I learnt more about these people and their stories. I posted about it a lot on tumblr and found other lovers of the film and they taught me more about their lives. This film was also my first major introduction to pride, London Pride in particular. I had missed the parade that year, but was hoping to attend the next year. This was also the year that same-sex marriage was legalised in England and Wales. There was a lot of things in the news and on tv about the history and struggle of the LGBTQ+ community, including ‘Our Gay Wedding the Musical’. As a lover of musicals, I wasn’t going to miss this, but not only was it an excellent musical, but I learnt so much more about the history and ‘legal side’ of being part of the LGBTQ+ community. It also introduced me to a lot of LGBTQ+ musical artists, personalities and songs.

In both AS and A2 Level art, I completed projects focused on sexuality and gender identity. I explored a range of artists, historical figures and other influential people within the LGBTQ+ community. I was able to better understand the many different identities that existed and the work that has been made to get where we are now as well as questioning my own identity.

For A Levels I had picked Art as one of my subjects. I have always loved art and at this point it was the direction I was planning on taking my life and career. I was still very much continuing to educate myself about the LGBTQ+ community and was discovering LGBTQ+ art and artists. This was also the time that Grayson Perry’s second tv series ‘Who are you?’ was airing, which looked at various aspects that affect a person, including gender and sexuality. With Grayson discussing his own relationship with gender and sexuality. At this point in time, A Levels were all split into ASs (year 12) and A2s (year 13). Which at the end of both would be an exam in all the subjects you took (4 for AS, 3 for A2). In art we were given a selection of titles and had to pick one to work from. From this we would have to create research pieces and supporting work, leading up to a final piece, which we would complete in a 5 hour exam. At this point I had been looking for a way to represent the LGBTQ+ community in my work and when ‘Community’ was given as one of the possible exam titles, I knew what I was doing.

I began with studies of people I had learnt about through general media, Pride and Our Gay Wedding the Musical. On a side note, this was when I developed my love for graphite portraits, my first of which was of Nathan Taylor and Benjamin Till the couple who both created and were married in OGWtM. I continued my general research into artists and styles, when one of my teachers introduced me to the work of Paul Harfleet. Paul created the Pansy Project, where he would plant a pansy (historically a derogative term for a gay man) in a location of homophobic abuse (verbal or physical). He would also edit photos to put Pansy’s into the mouths of famous people who were homophobic or used homophobic language. I used this idea as my inspiration and my final exam piece featured well known people who have used such language or hold such views, with handmade pansies in their mouths, with Oscar Wilde in the middle, who was imprisoned for being gay, holding a bunch of pansies as if he’d put them there. My research for this piece had introduced me further to the political movements, fights and protests, the work that had been made and was still being made to help people just simply live their lives as themselves. When I finished my AS Level, I was hoping to carry this theme onto my work in my A2s.

Because I was hoping to do this I decided that I now had to go to Pride as it would be a great opportunity to take reference photos. I intended to go with some friends, but they all bailed, so I ended up going with my mum. My mum has always been reasonably liberal, but she never really had the knowledge to educate myself and siblings on the different types of relationships, gender and sexuality. By going to Pride, it definitely opened her eyes and she has since become a huge advocate for equal rights for all and as a childcare provider is trying her best to educate the children she looks after and make her environment inclusive. I absolutely loved Pride and collected so many great photos and saw so many inspirational people. Including the cast of the Pride movie and originators of LGSM.

In A2 art, we were required to complete coursework that would feature various pieces and research that would accompany an illustrated essay. In order to continue my focus on the LGBTQ+ community, the title I created was ‘How has art reflected society’s attitudes towards sexuality and gender’. I continued to look at the work of Grayson Perry as well as the story of Lily Elbe. During Pride I had taken a picture of a drag queen dressed as the Queen and used this as a reference for a painting. From this I edited picture of well known people to be the opposite gender. Looking back at this, I do regret doing this, as well as other aspects of my following work. I feel that although my intention was to show gender as fluid and present some ‘what if..’ questions, I feel that the way I went about it could have been insensitive and seen as mocking those with gender dysphoria and identity issues. Continuing from my queen portrait I decided to look specifically at the royal family and at monarchs and members of the family throughout history who are believed to be part of the LGBTQ+ community and how that has been ‘covered up’ or ignored. I also looked at drag artists and how the royal family who, though are typically seen as being very conservative and modest, have in fact historically been very flamboyant in the way they dress and present themselves, with the line between feminine and masculine clothing once being very thin. Again, although my intentions were good and the questions I was presenting were important, I don’t feel I went about it the right way. Although I did try to justify it at the time, I feel I shouldn’t have been presenting these people who may or may not have been LGBTQ+ as so, especially when suggesting that some monarchs who may have cross-dressed, could have in fact been transgender.

Aside from the artistic side my research greater deepened my understanding of the range and fluidity of gender and sexuality. Including gender non-conformation, gender-fluidity, gender-queer, demisexuality, polysexuality and being queer. At this point I was still confused about my own sexuality, but would tell people that I was just a straight ally. I remember being asked by both a classmate and university interviewer whether I identified myself as within the LGBTQ+ community and both times I answered no. Looking back, I wish I had said that I wasn’t sure, that I was confused. Because it is okay to not be sure and be confused, no matter your age.

After leaving school I was starting to look more at asexuality and wonder if I was on the ace spectrum. I didn’t think I was 100% asexual because I do want to be in a relationship, but maybe I just haven’t had the opportunity to explore that yet. I have been subscribed to Evan Edinger for about 5 years now and he has spoken openly about his own experiences and as someone who is on the asexual spectrum, specifically being demisexual. I started to consider that I could maybe be demisexual and watched more of Evan’s videos as well as reading about others who identified as demi. I felt comfortable with this label, it felt like it answered a lot of questions and gave an explanation for why I hadn’t experienced crushes like my friends for many years.

I then began to realise that if I was to imagine myself in a relationships, it could be with a guy or a girl, it didn’t really matter and maybe I was bisexual, or at least biromantic. This was something that I had considered in the past but I was only just accepting as a true part of myself.

I was able to go to my second London Pride in 2019, this time with my mum, sister and a couple of friends. We had a great time and I met and spoke to some incredible people. This further made me consider my sexuality and made me feel even more comfortable.

So, on New Year’s Eve of that year I came out as demi and bi to my friends, who were all very accepting and supportive. I am yet to come out to my family and I don’t really intend to, not because I’m ashamed or I don’t think they’d be supportive, in fact quite the opposite. Since going to pride, my mum has been very vocal in her support of the LGBTQ+ community and I feel that if I were to come out to her, she would make quite a big deal out of it, which as someone with anxiety who likes to live a reasonably quiet life, I don’t really want. I also never really talk to my family about my ‘love life’ and relationships, existent or not, so I don’t really feel the need to tell them this. If I was in a relationship with a girl, then yes we’d probably talk about it, but until them, I don’t intend on telling them.

Although I have come out, I still wouldn’t say that I am 100% sure my exact labels, but I think that’s okay. If I am asked I normally say that I am Queer as I find it sums up that I don’t identify as heterosexual without going into too much detail.

I think the main thing to take from my story is, it’s okay to not be sure about your identity. There is no age that you should have had your first kiss etc by. You do what is right to for you, maybe you’ll have the answer soon, maybe it’ll be a while, but that’s okay.

#pride #lgbtq #bi #demisexual #pride film #c4 cucumber #e4 banana #lgsm #art #grayson perry #pansy project

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radamazard · 4 years

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Ninovember Day 27 - Rare Pair

Today I shall dish up a rare pair so rare that I haven’t seen jack shit for it. Heck, I may even get to name it: Nino/Nathanael/Marc aka NiNathMarc aka ArtHearts.

@ninovember

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If you’d asked Nino when he was fifteen if this was where he’d be in his life right now, well… he wouldn’t have laughed, but he certainly would have been confused. Like, fifteen year old Nino was adamantly sure he was straight, even if he was a huge LGBT ally.

Like, a little too enthusiastically an ally. Though be fair, so had Alya. Who had turned out to be a raging lesbian, go figure. Sure at sixteen that had broken his heart, but Nino hadn’t been mad. Just real sad that the girl he’d loved so dearly had fallen out of love with him.

But hey, she was now happily married, to KAGAMI of all people. Man, no one had seen that coming.

Unlike Nathanael and Marc. From the day they’d started making comics together everyone had been expecting them to hook up. And that they had. Nino remembered helping plan a party for them with Rose, Marinette and Juleka to celebrate them finally getting over their anxieties and confessing their feelings! The party had been hella awesome, and it had made Nino’s heart swell to see them both so happy.

After his breakup he’d started to spend more time with the couple. Nate and Nino had been desk buddies the year before Adrien and Alya had joined their class, so it was kinda nice to rekindle that friendship and really let it grow.

Marc though had been harder to talk to at first. The guy was painfully shy and awkward. A night spent talking about his own insecurities and fears though, about his own lack of self confidence and self deprecating hypocrisy, had really held close that gap between them and soon all three were damn near inseparable.

… And then, one quiet fall afternoon on Nino’s seventeenth birthday, Nate had kissed him. Followed by Marc doing the very same, before he could even think to protest.

It had been then that Nino had come to terms with the fact that he very much wasn’t straight. Or against polyamory, as he’d very eager kissed them both in return, and the trio had giggled and smooched and cuddled long into the night until the sun rose and they fell asleep together in a pile of interwoven limbs.

The next day they’d talked it out and decided to give a polyamorous relationship a try.

All of which had lead to today, with Nino nervously tugging at his bow tie that he’d adjusted far too many times. He spun his engagement rings, one then two, as he took in a shaky breath.

“Man… I can’t believe- I mean, this has gotta be a dream, right?” Nino uttered with a chuckle, as he felt Adrien’s hand clap down on his shoulder.

“I’m happy to tell you that this is reality, you lucky dog,” Adrien replied brightly, offering his best bud’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.” I mean, come on, two husbands? Most only get one spouse! And here you are, with two very cute men who want to spend eternity with you. You’re getting to live your dream!”

Nino felt his cheeks warm, as the dopiest of smiles stretched across his face. “I am, aren’t I? Dude, I couldn’t be luckier…”

“Damn right you couldn’t be,” Adrien laughed, before taking a step back. “But you know who's luckier? Marc and Nathanael. Because they’re about to score the world’s most loyal, kind and passionate husband. Now… you ready to get married?”

Never before had he been more ready for anything else.

“I was born ready, my best bro. So let’s get out there!”

#nino lahiffe #ninovember #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #NiNathMarc

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ramblingclandestinethoughts · 4 years

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Update on the therapy stuff so far

So I had my fourth appointment a couple of days ago and I kind of want to make a post about each one but still haven’t actually done it, so...gonna just make a long-ass post now about what it’s been like so far and hopefully I’ll keep up with it in the future. Right now we’re meeting weekly, and I really like her so far! She seems super nice and I feel comfortable talking to her. She doesn’t use a bunch of therapy jargon, platitudes, etc., and something else I really like is that she’s never tries to tell me what/who I am or what I should do? Like, she seems less interested in trying to tell me exactly what my sexuality is and what I should and shouldn’t do, and more interested in helping me figure out what I genuinely want. I can’t remember if this was in the second or third appt, but at one point she said something about how people often talk about how we should take risks and stuff - but it’s also ok if taking risks isn’t what you want. She said you should take risks if that’s what’s best for you personally, but it doesn’t have to be the case for everyone. If I want to try working things out with my bf because of the security of being with someone who I’m compatible with and close to (as opposed to taking the risk of exploring things with women) there’s nothing wrong with that - what we need to do is figure out if that’s truly what will make me happy. Anyway, below are details on the four appointments I’ve had so far:

2/25/20 - The first appt was sort of just a foundational kind of thing - telling her why I’m seeking therapy, some basics about why I’m questioning my sexuality, stuff about leaving religion and when/if I should tell my family about that, etc. We talked a little about compulsory heterosexuality (which I’m familiar with) and she asked me to research it in the next week and see if anything about it applies to me. (She usually gives people “homework assignments” of things to do or think about until the next session).

3/3/20 - We talked about a conversation I had with my dad a few days before about queer people and the Bible. The short version is that he and I started talking about it, I mentioned some of the arguments I’ve heard about why the Bible might not actually condemn homosexuality (without necessarily saying if I agreed with them or not, and definitely not mentioning that I no longer give a fuck about what the Bible says), he basically just said that he doesn’t think those arguments hold up. However, he also doesn’t believe it’s his place to try to decide who’s going to hell and who isn’t, and also that he doesn’t think it makes sense to expect people who don’t believe the Bible is true to follow what it teaches. So in other words, queer Christians are living in sin but he doesn’t think they’re going to hell any more than Christians who struggle with other sins, and there’s no point in telling people to be celibate if they aren’t Christian. He says he wishes he could accept queer people but can’t do it in good conscience, and I believe him - tbh I’m 99% certain he'd be a great ally if not for the fucking Bible. Anyway, we also talked about comp het stuff - the main ones that seem apply to me are liking unattainable men (celebrities, fictional characters, boys who didn’t like me back), never liking the idea of marrying a man (assumed I’d want to eventually), generally liking men that are somewhat “feminine” from a traditional standpoint (long hair, no beards, etc.), and thinking that women are objectively more attractive then men in general. This one is really interesting to me because I feel like I have so few childhood signs of being queer, but I do actually remember thinking this as a teenager. I remember being frustrated that it seemed like there were so few attractive guys but lots of attractive girls, and it was kind of unfair that guys had so many more options.

3/10/20 - Last week I was supposed to think about the different crushes I’ve had on boys in the past and try to figure out why I was drawn to them. I looked at some old journals to help me remember stuff, which was kind of fun. The first crush I can remember was when I was 9 (fun fact: that guy is apparently now in prison? so I think I dodged a bullet there). The last one was in 2015, possibly through early 2016...so it’s been a while. It was kind of hard to remember how it felt to have a crush on someone, but I do remember it wasn’t too hard to get over them. Like I know I was sad about it when I realized they’d never like me back or whatever, but unless I’m remembering wrong I don’t think I was ever upset for a really long time or anything? I never knew any of the guys very well, and I’m not sure what exactly drew me to them. Mostly just that I thought they were attractive and I just generally felt drawn to them for some reason, but I never had the chance to actually form any kind of emotional connection to them. Another thing we talked about was core values and how they play into making decisions. We tried to pinpoint my top four out of this huge list, which was...kind of difficult, but I ended up with Personal Fulfillment, Kindness, Honesty, and Nature. This week I’m supposed to think about how making different decisions might look based on these core values.

3/17/20 - We talked about a few different things this time. We went over the core values and how they might work with relationship decisions. At one point I told her about this girl from church youth group at high school I potentially felt attraction to this one time? The problem is I can’t remember it very clearly, but I just remember liking the way she looked and it must have been similar to how I used to feel when looking at cute boys, bc I do remember thinking something along the lines of “well I probably just like her clothes/I’m comparing my body to hers and even if I was somehow a lesbian (which I’m not, lol can you imagine? crazy idea) I would never act on something like that, so it doesn’t matter anyway.” It stands out to me because I can’t remember any other times from when I was younger that I was specifically attracted to a girl - I can just remember a few vague instances with girls I passed by on the street or whatever where I was “comparing myself to another girl’s body.” I also told her about how I’m watching Ocean’s 8 mostly for the eye candy (I felt it was relevant lol). Also we discussed the way I’ve been sort of semi-identifying as lesbian in my head and how I sort of...do little secretive pride things? Like I have a couple of rainbow socks I’ll wear if I’m feeling especially gay one day, etc. Then at the end talked a bit about how, when I’m talking to her about how I feel and verbally processing things, I tend to kind of just barely mention the things I’m anxious about regarding exploring my sexuality and then move onto something else - so she wants me to think about that more this week and try to pinpoint the specific things I’m afraid of.

Things to think about:

Week 1. Research compulsory heterosexuality and see which things might apply to me.

Week 2. Think about past crushes on guys - what things about them attracted me? How hard were they to get over? lol not very hard

Week 3. Think about core values and how they might play into future decisions, particularly about relationships.

Week 4 (current). Examine/let myself feel anxiety about exploring sexuality - what I am afraid of, specifically?

#long post #questioning #therapy adventures

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mymelancholiesblues · 5 years

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Just wondering, what your head canon for Leon's family?

Oh my god, I was planning to post this huge compilation of my RE Headcanons soon (starting with what I have for Leon) when I got your ask’s notification. Are you a mind reader? Hahaha. But really, thank you for providing me with a justification to start posting them.

I would like to please invite you to sit because I have plenty – honestly PLENTY – of things to share over this specific matter (Leon’s family). And, of course, to ask you to bear with me through them.

For anyone else whose interest might be picked over this: keep in mind that these are (obviously) my headcanons for Leon’s background and family and in no way is anyone else under the obligation to accept nor fully agree with them.

I wrote them down because I think A LOT about storytelling devices, stories structures, characterization and characters studies, world-building, fiction tropes, etc. and, since I’ve been a Resident Evil fan from age eight to this day, I also tend to spend a lot of time thinking about its characters – and the overall rest of its lore. Furthermore, as a way to help me write them in fanfictions or even in meta-analysis, I’m always thinking of what would make sense within these characters narratives and to their personalities.

Anyway. Back to Leon and his family!

There’s a very solid theory in RE Fandom that Raccoon City is set in Missouri. I really take this into account when I think about RE Characters because it helps me “placing them” before Raccoon, since not all of them were originally born/living there. Leon, for example, according to canon material, only decided to apply to be a police officer in Raccoon because “he was intrigued by the bizarre murders cases in Raccoon City” going in the news.

Because of this, *my* Leon S. Kennedy:

– Was born in small Galena/Illinois. His parents moved to Chicago/IL when he was around 8;

– So, huge fan of the Chicago Bears (and the Chicago Bulls);

– Leon was lovingly raised by a very Catholic couple, Liliana and Isaac;

– Since Kennedy and Scott are, respectively, an Irish surname and a Scottish name and Leon is not an unusual name in Polish (check out about Polish Americans in Illinois and you’ll have a more proper comprehension of my thought process) and German cultures, I think Isaac would be a man of mixed Irish and Scottish heritage, and Liliana of Polish and German heritage;

– Although, his biological parents were actually Roberto (Italo-American punk) and Abigail, Liliana’s youngest sister;

– Robby was a drunken deadbeat, while Abbie was an airhead obsessively in love. Leon was conceived when they were both very young – his mom had sixteen and his dad eighteen;

– Liliana had three daughters (ages 10, 13 and 15) by then (1977), but she and Isaac always dreamed of having a little boy. They even tried to, but the attempts led to miscarriage after miscarriage, so when Abbie gave birth to Leon, the couple was pretty much devoted to their nephew, always visiting to see him and make sure he was properly being taken care of;

– Robby took note of all that and when Leon was only barely one year old, he packed his and Abbie’s stuff and imposed that he was leaving and that she should go with him, leaving the baby behind, telling her that surely Liliana would raise him as if he were hers;

– Indeed she did, albeit feeling distraught by her sister’s complete negligence;

– Isaac adored the boy, and Leon’s three cousins always treated him as their little brother;

– Also: Liliana decided she wanted to erase Abbie’s true connection to Leon, so she got rid of all the photographies that led to those deductions, leaving only the ones that showed baby Leon alone or the ones with the rest of his relatives, but not with his biological parents. Isaac never agreed with this, though. He believed that once Leon got older, he had the right to know his origins, believing that if their love for the boy was true he’d love them back and recognise their role in his life, so there was no need to lie. Thus, he kept a photo that featured Robby resting a hand in Abbie’s shoulder while she was breast-feeding Leon;

– Isaac was very ill when Leon was nearing his eighteenth birthday, and passed away just five months prior to Leon turning nineteen (Isaac was sixty-three years old by his time of death). Leon found that hidden photo after Isaac’s death since his dad left most of his personal belongings to Leon;

– Leon never confronted his mother on it, putting together two and two and realising his biological parents haven’t thought twice before abandoning him, so he shouldn’t bother with them either as he was raised in a genuinely loving and supportive family;

– As I said, Leon has three older sisters: Lydia (born 1962), Meryl (born 1964) and Olivia (born 1967). Two nephews from Lyds’ side, and a niece from Liv’s;

– Parents personalities: I picture Leon’s dad as a mixture of both Jonathan Kent (DC Comics) and Eddard Stark (ASoIaF). A firm, caring, kind, upfront and sincere man with high moral values, strong ethics and unwavering sense of justice, who valued honesty above all else and always believed in the best of people and in helping others, true to the “love your neighbour as yourself” commandment. Liliana was the more stern parent (especially with Lydia, always wanting and expecting her to set out a good example for her siblings), so I picture her as a fierce, proud and honest woman, passionately protective and supportive of her family, that dedicated herself entirely to whatever she put her mind into (domestic activities, city projects, EVERYTHING);

– Lydia would be the “Patricia Arquette’s character in Boyhood (2014)” kind of woman. Kind-hearted, hardworking and amazing, but guilty as charged of the serious flaw of always being romantically involved with scumbags. A Geriatric Nurse, divorced twice, mother to Kilian and Luke – both kids from her first marriage;

– By the way, Kilian is a problem-child and Lucas is the emo kid. Leon has trouble dealing with both;

– On top of it, Leon have several difficulties dealing with Lydia. Being the most distant from him in age terms, Lydia always came off as a bit distant to and unnecessarily strict with him;

– Meryl is Leon’s lesbian best buddy. Confidant, a bit arrogant, always open to give advice, prone to bluntly point out faults in her loved ones and to get angry with Lydia. She graduated in architecture and is a state employee, working as an Urban Planner. Has cleaning OCD;

– Olivia is the sister Leon was closest to since it was with her he had the “smallest” age difference. Driven, headstrong, empathetic and an introvert, she’s actually the one who inspired him to join Law Enforcement and is now a detective in Massachusetts. Liv has a long-time relationship with Peter, whom she met during her childhood in school, and they have a daughter, Harriet (any coincidence with Olivia Dunham from Fringe (2008-2013) is on purpose since Olivia would be Leon’s perfect older sister, ok);

– Leon’s sense of humour takes much after his brother-in-law’s one, Peter, considering he spent a lot of time with him as he would be a frequent guest to their house;

– He fell in love for the first time when he was in middle school in his seventh grade with an eighth grade girl, Allison, who was an exceptionally good basketball player and would kick his ass in all the practice games;

– Allie has very evident native-American heritage, skin and eye colour, hair;

– It was Allie the long-time girlfriend who broke up with him right before Raccoon. She felt he was being distant even prior to his decision to be a cop in Raccoon City. In truth, what happened was that Leon feared his future being set stone too early in his life the way things were going. His wishes to have more agency over the shaping of his own destiny started driving him further and further away from Allie as he felt she was expecting their relationship to progress over time to the building of a family etc.;

– Meryl and Olivia both loved Allie and to this day they don’t get over the fact that Leon didn’t marry her;

– Leon unwillingly distanced himself from his sisters, though, only contacting them for birthday calls and holidays alike because of all of that government recruitment stuff and classified shit and also dealing with a heavy emotional load after surviving Raccoon;

– The only reason Hunnigan found out that Leon had living relatives was that Lydia called to give Leon the news of Liliana’s death in 2010 (by seventy-two years of age) on work-time. Leon, of course, was very shaken with the news;

– While Leon only knows what Ada herself lets him about her past, family, childhood and the circumstances that put her precisely where she is now, Ada knows everything there is to know about his past, family, childhood and the circumstances that placed him precisely where he is now because she’s very competent at her job and did her homework as a spy (this will die with her, but for countless times she fantasized about him confiding all of those mundane details of his life and backstory in her);

– I’m very convinced that in one of those nights Ada visited him for some hoochie coochie after like, six to eight months without seeing or talking to him at all, Leon had to break up the news that she came in in a bad time since he already planned for a Thanksgiving dinner with his sisters. Ada accepts the challenge because she’s been REALLY missing him (horny on main). Ah, and he’s quite upset with her because of that “six to eight months with no news at all” “little” issue. So, picture that. Please.

And that is all I have for “Leon’s family” headcanons. For now. As I warned: PLENTY. Hahahahaha, sorry! Hope this can provide some entertainment and delight to you.

#Leon Scott Kennedy #Leon S Kennedy #Leon Kennedy #Resident Evil #rebel-the-way #OTP: like a part of me I can't let go #レオエイ #Aeon #Leon x Ada #♥#[games]#[mine]#//#golden puppy #///#asks and answers #Aeon fandom #my headcanons

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