#bbpride

[keviolah]

Well at least a nonHet won the first HOH!

[shellalana]

June 11th: Attack

Shit shit shit. How did people do this on a daily basis and not screw it up? This was the second pack of bacon Oscar Mike had burned and had to throw away. Thankfully, he could continue to hide his mistakes since he’d taken the batteries out of the smoke detector. Sighing, he dug out another from the fridge, sliced it open, and tossed the thick slices onto the hot oil, jumping back in fright as it spat at him angrily. Pancakes. Right. It had been a few minutes since he’d let the mixture rest, and he was undecided as to whether he should make several small ones or just one big one to fit the Aplian’s appetite. Orange juice or caffe? Syrup or honey? Did he even like fruit? Shit was something burning again???! He managed to flip the bacon in time and rescued it from the frying pan before they became charcoal again, the grease hissing and dripping onto the large omelette he’d already made. That had been the easiest part of this damned breakfast. ... he should have added some cheese to the eggs. That would have made it better. And some Go-Go Juice for flavour. He smeared his gloves on the stained apron before piling everything onto the tray. It was mostly a sad sight, or at least not fitting the image he’d had in his head, but it was better than not making anything at all. He nudged Montana’s door open with his rear and quietly placed the tray on the table next to his bed. “Good morning~.” Bonk. “Ow!” Montana woke with a start, gripping his cheek and the small bruise that was starting to form. “What was that for?!” “Oh, sorry, this dang helmet.” He fiddled with the latches and removed it, offering his pursed lips to the turret-wielder once more. Montana gave him a suspicious look before presenting his cheek again. “You made me breakfast?” He gave the overly-large and overly-thick pancake a hefty poke. He was certainly going to be digesting that all day. “Yeah! You like it?” Mike laid the tray across his lap and adjust the pillow behind his back. “What’s the occasion, exactly?” The eggs looked done at least, and he gave those a taste. Definitely needed some salt. “The occasion? Oh... uh... it’s Thursday! Yeah!” Not the answer Montana had been hoping for, but he’d take it.

[pendles-is-friendles]

💀Rogue Pride Headcanons💀

💀 As a whole, the Detritus Ring doesn't really use labels much since most of the individuals are a lot more private and spread out. Intermingling typically crosses species and gender is just not as talked about.

💀 Shayne and Aurox are both non-binary, though Shayne crushes on/dates girls her age and Aurox's species simply do not replicate through partnership. He finds the whole gender/sexuality thing kind of silly... but he can't help but listen and try to talk stuff out when Shayne is having trouble with it.

💀 Whiskey prefers women, but really has no problem with any other gender. He's just not quite into clones (outside of terrible in-universe fanfiction)

💀 A long time denizen of the Solus System and resident of the Detritus Ring, Reyna is in the habit of keeping her options open. With her busy schedule, it's a good thing she's not picky.

💀 Toby... I almost want to say he's the token cis/straight guy, but he's aro/ace.

💀 Despite the massive range of microgenders that exist, Orendi cannot be mapped on any of them. While she does use she/her pronouns, some seconds she feels like a lady, others like a man, and even others she's more orthagonal than anything. This is entirely normal for a Varimorph.

💀 Pendles is pan and demisexual. He kind of finds gender as a concept silly, but he considers himself 100% man. So what if he wants to wear a wedding dress?

💀 Lorrians (the quarapedal, four-armed, cat-eared orcs, not THE Lorrian) are an intersex species that readily interact with any other species. As such, culturally they're a hodgepodge of femininity and masculinity and will defend the merits of both.

[alani-is-sharklani]

A Little Advice

"What do you mean I have to work with her? Switch teams with me? Please? I wanna be on Galilea's side, not hers." The hiss of her shocked voice barely rose over the hum of Nova's engines. Alani's knuckles had long shifted into a tint of white unnatural to even her bright blue skin in their tight grip of Reyna's jacket.

Reyna's sneer as she eyed both the far-too-tight grip on her arm and the high-strung young woman attached to it. With another unsuccessful shake to dislodge the monk from her, she pointed out, "You'll wanna take that up with Ghalt. I didn't make the teams."

"But, Reyna. I don't want to--"

Raising a finger to Alani's lips to interrupt her, Reyna's glare spelled out her exact feelings on the subject. Shaking her off, Reyna fixed her sleeve. "You and Ambra are just going to have to get along for today." Turning on her heel to rejoin Galilea and Miko on her team for the day's match of incursion, she shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you."

Alani deflated. Looking back at the fiery priestess behind her, there was no way she could hide the pout on her face. Dragging her feet, she found a good spot of the wall to lean on while she avoided conversation and watched Galilea spare a hint of a smirk at something Reyna was chuckling about.

Crimson eyes stared at the monk before Ambra strode over to her. The oddly silent Silent Sister's gaze followed Alani's to Galilea across the room. "Ugh, disgusting."

"Shut it." Alani's shoulders tensed at the first note from Ambra's mouth, her rings jangling as she crossed her arms over her chest. With a huff, she averted her gaze. "I don't want to listen to you talk about hygiene again."

"Oh no! You're a lost cause on that matter," Ambra stated matter-of-factly. "I'm meaning her."

Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she peeked over to Reyna and Galilea standing just a little closer than before. The sight made her chest ache. Turning away again, Alani started, "Just because Rey--"

"Again, no, darling." Even the way Ambra rolled her eyes was cat-like. "People like us don't bother with people like her." A gauntleted finger indicated the Wraith of Bliss herself. "I'm talking about her."

A freckled hand covered her face as she groaned, "Galilea can flirt with whoever she wants... and Reyna's nice if you give her a chance."

The Jennerit's thin lips lifted and her nose crinkled at the thought. Her mingling with a human that calls the Detritus Ring home? If she weren't wearing her bodysuit, she would need a shower to scrub away the filth of that thought. With a small shake of her head, she managed a laugh. "What I meant was, it's disgusting you're wasting your time pining for her. You're far too good for her, Alani. You're young, thin, a powerful warrior. She'll only break your hear--"

"You just want her to you--"

"DON'T INTERRUPT!" Licks of flames floated from her staff and headdress as she bristled. With a hint of a sigh, she continued, "looking beyond my interests in her, I'm just saying it's a shame you're wasting your time gazing at a ravishing woman who will only leave you in tears while..." With a thud of her staff against the ground, the many adornments on Ambra's staff rearranged to point towards Thorn, who seemed suddenly very interested in fiddling with Kreshek. "A certain... filthy archer's been watching you."

The monk spared a peek over to Thorn, noting the increased pace of the Aelfrin's already rapid heart beat. With a hint of lavender dusting her cheeks, she glanced up to Ambra again. "So, what do you care about who Thorn likes?"

"I don't. I'm just looking out for you, but you can do whatever the hell you want." Adjusting her headdress, she turned around to go finish the rest of her pre-battle preparations. Glancing over her shoulder, she concluded, "you just can't say I didn't warn you."

[incistyx]

Beatrix identifies as ace because she has more important things to do and can't be bothered with making friends, let alone more serious relationships

[thralls-for-alls]

Confessions

Crinkling and poking at his swollen nose at his brother's freshly polished shield, F.69 complained, "I think she broke it." His lip curled as he glanced up to F.66. With a disapproving snort, he added, "I swear she's just tryin' to make me match 20 at this point."

"... I think she's just been tryin' to escape." 66 angled his head to stretch his neck, moving the impromptu mirror away from the far shorter Evolved. "Can't blame her for tryin' to live. I mean, she's spit in me face."

69 bristled in offense, his ridges furrowing. A small trickle of blood peeked from the corner of his nostril. "You've got out lucky, mate. Look at me!" He jabbed a finger towards his own face; the end of one horn is clipped short. "I'm missin' half my horn and my nose is fucked."

"Oi..." 20 turned over in their cot, wincing as their mangled horn nudged the thin padding. Sleep hung heavily from their dark eyes; their hand drawing up the flattened pillow for some extra support. "Least the "Thrallmother" didn't bite ya. She just knocked some sense into you two."

Sliding his shield off from his arm, 66 grimaced as his eye caught the peeling paint and the teeth marks among the explosion of cracks on the eldest evolved. Tucking it under his cot between his hooves, he sighed. "Yeah. She did. But, she really did a number on ya. How's it healin'?"

Sitting up, they gingerly pressed a finger to the end. "Not good, I think... 't's like the worst hangover I've ever gotten."

69 took a seat beside 20; the two Evolved so similar looking, one would think they were the littermates instead of him and the Brute. Grabbing their face to look at the gashes closer, 69 thrummed as he leaned in. "It doesn't look rotted at least. We could cap it?"

"I think resin would protect it better." The Brute peeled his chestplate off, the teal undershirt of his station darkened with his sweat from the day. "It'll keep it strong."

Retreating away from their brother's hand, 20 balked. "But, I just got them how I want them though." With a pout on their lip, their hand went to their still pristine horn. The dark paint still shone with a high polish, the gentle curves catching even the dim overhead lights. "It already took so many favours to get them like this. I finally felt pretty... they felt right..." they confessed, their eyes darting from Brute to Evolved. With a shake of their head, they added, "I can't ask you guys to stick your necks out for me again."

"Pff." With a wave of his hand to dismiss the notion, 69 added, "gives me an excuse to rough up some more traitors. 'Sides, I think the Lieutenant owes us a few for keepin' zipped 'bout those "disappearances"."

Leaning forward to prop himself up on his knees, 66 added, "Yeah, and I'll find an excuse to "investigate" that shop ya liked too." With a shrug, he propped his chin onto his palm. "Think we can manage ta confiscate a dress or a sock or somethin'?" Girls like socks, right? "We'll just get good 'bout hidin' it."

20 whinged, not wanting to put her younger brothers in more danger over her... heretical thoughts. Thrall do not think for themselves. They are the tools of their masters. And this one had always thought she'd be happier a little softer, a little prettier, and a lot less male. If it were not for her brothers, she would not know where she would be. But, she also knew that in matters like these, no was not an answer. With a smile, she accepted, "sure, we'll figure it out. Until then, I'll just keep it clean?"

"It'd be a good idea. Mares still got horns, ya know," 69 chuckled, giving his sister a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Maybe we can steal somethin' to help with that too."

The lights shut off, only the glows from their eyes illuminating the room. "Lights out. We'll move out first thin' in the mornin'."

[shellalana]

June 6th: LLC

Francesco Drake traced his fingers along the outline of the figure in the photo. He wasn’t sure what had drawn him to the man, but ever since the first day they’d met, he couldn’t help where his mind drifted. He’d tried to beat the thoughts back, taking on match after match, helping to take on Rendain’s forces, even helping Miss Phoebe with her experiments and escorting her around. And yet, he would always find himself here, lamenting over the- “It’s time to go.” A chill of fear shook El Dragon down to his core and he quickly shoved the picture into a drawer, hoping that whoever was calling on him wouldn’t notice. “... everything alright?” He tugged down the edge of his mask and adjusted the hole over his mouth. “You caught me unawares. You know a luchador should never have his face revealed!” His words, intended to be majestic, came out shaky and without confidence. “... sure. Look, we’ve landed and you agreed to help us with this. You’ve got two minutes to grab your gear and meet us outside.” Ghalt gave him one more look before stepping away and allowing the door to slide closed behind him. He hadn’t seen, right? If he had, he would have asked questions. Or maybe he didn’t out of politeness. That was his job, wasn’t it, not to ask the personal questions on the job? Drake sighed and glanced at the shut drawer once more. It wouldn’t hurt to look again, but he was on the clock. There would be time after he got back, during the return ride to the LLC flagship. He flexed his metal fingers and adjusted his hover crown until it sat perfectly in place, checked his mask to ensure it was free of wrinkles, and headed out the door. His picture of the helmeted clone wearing that perfectly pink tutu would be there when he returned.

[shellalana]

June 7th: UPR

“No, like this.” Kid Ultra performed the gesture again, which didn’t look any different from what Ernest had just done. The aviant tugged on the edge of his bandana and tried again, taking careful note of what had been different in the little nanny-bot’s gestures. “Better. At least you’re not telling him he smells like beef.” He would, under any other circumstances. The tall rocker launcher-wielder had done nothing but get on his nerves since they’d first met, and yet he found himself whipping the young man into shape so that he’d start being less of an asshole. A defence mechanism, Ernest realized, for all the shit he’d been through. The short squat aviant had kept it to himself, afraid that Toby would consider him a traitor, especially after that speech he’d given him about their flightless kind. But if there was anyone who needed someone by their side at the moment, it was Benedict. He squared back his shoulders and marched into the hospital room to find Benedict in a bed, his head covered in thick bandages. “No brain damage” the doctor had said... but Ernest was sure he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway. “How are you feeling, soldier?” he signed. Benedict looked back at him with confusion, his eyes still a little unfocused. “Kid Ultra taught me a little sign. I thought it would be a good idea until your hearing comes back.” Benedict grabbed the nearby pad of paper and started scribbling: “That’ll be three months from now.” Three months. That was a small blessing in disguise if the loud-mouthed aviant was reduced to silence. “Why are you here anyway?” Benedict wrote with a furrowed brow. Ernest was the last person he expected to visit him... or at least take the time to learn sign language. “You’re still one of us.” “But you hate me.” He used to. Then it had become something else. But now wasn’t the time for that. “Yeah you’re still a piece of-” Kid Ultra hadn’t taught him any swear words. Dammit. He spelled out the word “crap.” “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care, soldier. So stop you’re bellyaching and work on getting back on your feet.” Another confused look, and Benedict started writing again. “Did you just tell me I smelled like beef?” Dammit.