alms4oblivion

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Last Line Written

Tagged by @willowedhepatica (https://www.tumblr.com/willowedhepatica/780284524955320320/tagged-by-the-darkness-does-not-bargain-hell?source=share)

Rules (are made to be broken): post the last line you wrote and then tag others to do the same.

She smiled.   “And it will make your mothers so very, very angry.” She winked her burning eye… And Mira blinked at her mothers, sitting in front of her on the living room floor.

Tagging @drizzleoftherain, @ithinkthatithinktoomuch, @longwindedanswer, ZERO PRESSURE TO ANY OF YOU

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some classic avatrice sillyyyyy

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Companion portraits for WalktheGalaxy’s For Reasons Wretched and Divine

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Tagged by @the-darkness-does-not-bargain hell yeah!

Only one sentence? Excuse me if I cheat.

“Hey.” Ava steps back as she approaches, eyes going down to the flower in her hands. “You brought me dead flowers?” 

I'll happily tag @alms4oblivion @pinechips @baez-atwitsend @youve-cath-to-be-kitten-me and @fan-of-interest no pressure in participating 🥰

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Reblog to let prev know their presence is wanted

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Leaning on a broken shoulder

To move and to love to move and to love... There's life there, in the movement. It had always terrified Beatrice. And then, there came Ava.

OR: a sequel to the Sled Dog AU

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64121185/chapters/164527768#workskin

Inspired by this poem;

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Reblog to let prev know their presence is wanted

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90s au ava

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last thing u wrote:

((based on this))

(there are no rules :3ccc)

tagged by: @daisychainsandbowties

Ava glares at the juts of Lilith’s cheekbones. She can tell from the sharp stoniness of them Lilith’s not listening to a word she’s saying. It’s this back and forth that usually ends in hours of petty silence away from each other. Ava will say no, Lilith will tower over her and insist. Lilith will grit her jaw and rip her argument to shreds and Ava will find it begrudgingly hot. 

It’s the only thing they talk about between keeping the space station afloat with life. It’s easy to get lost in the labor of doing the work of what would be fit for a team of 5 but Ava knows they cannot shake the hole that stares back. 

It’s the strange case that drew them here first, a distress signal pinging repeatedly from the bottomless pit and an old recording of 2 fuzzy figures lurking on the other end. There are records of people before them in the current station just adjacent to the pit but never any more evidence of what lies below. There is an elevator that connects to what Ava hopes is the other station but can only be accessed from inside the station they’re in. It looks well used enough to convince her it’s sturdy enough to survive at least two trips. 

Lilith steps closer, close enough to touch her and Ava isn’t ready for that. “I’m not going down there Lil, you’ve seen the reports, people who come here don’t come back and I’m starting to get why.” 

Lilith’s eyes flash with a sliver of something volatile before Ava can take it back, the mistake digs in her throat but she stands up, turning around to look at the old recording once again. The screen has a crack in it that distorts part of the footage but it's clear that there's proof that life has made it down there. It's a jumbled 6 second clip that jumps around, almost unreadable but Ava has a feeling she cannot keep running away. 

Ava can't take her eyes off the clip, replaying it frantically over and over in her mind as a feeling she doesn't want to name wells up inside her. Even if they did go down, Ava would have to go alone because of the Halo. Its faint glow would be more beneficial than risking any energy input for light. 

Lilith is burning behind her no doubt a couple sentences away from strangling her. Ava knows her fingers are twitching. That’s just who Lilith is, she looks out for Ava in an angry way. 

“Ava,” She puffs, Ava can see it in her head, Lilith loosening the lock in her jaw with a wisp of breath snaking between her teeth. She thinks if Lilith wasn’t always knocking her around she’d pick up smoking. But she supposes smoking would detract from the heated sex they always find themselves in. 

There’s a shuffle behind her but Ava is too cowardly to turn around, not quite ready for another argument or maybe something worse. Ava wonders if today’s the day where one of them crosses the line. 

“We don’t know anything, people have accidents or get lost. There's nothing more to it.” Lilith slows down her syllables sounding like a stranger, “We have an ancient artifact that enhances your physicality, there's nothing to be afraid of.” 

Ava doesn’t like it, how dejected Lilith sounds, it’s wrong. It makes her feel wild, she pushes, falling into what they know best, “Maybe for your physique,” Ava swallows heavily the words tumbling out of her mouth searing, “but I'm the crippled one here remember? The Halo gets me to what you would consider your peak physique." She can feel tears of frustrations lining her eyes and she squints angrily at the footage. She brings her knees up to her chest hoping she hadn’t bled too raw for Lilith to notice. 

She knows she hasn’t succeeded, the Halo’s always been a sore spot for both of them. It’s a coin toss, the Halo which gives her strength but is ultimately unstable. The power output is too random and unreliable. It's not sustainable for her in the long run. She is nothing if not at the mercy of a crusty old metal that decides if she can move her fingers or bench five times Lilith’s weight. 

She sulks hoping Lilith will do what they do best. It’s quiet behind her and in her embarrassed tear stricken haze she’s sure that Lilith has fled, parallel to the line that they both don’t dare to cross. 

Ava tucks her head into her arms, her shoulders peeking over her ears and she’s resigned to accepting this endless back and forth for forever. 

She’s musing the list of chores she can do to avoid Lilith when her chair is swiveled backwards to face her. Lilith’s fingers stray far from any part of Ava but she bends to her height kneeling against the cold tiled floor. From this angle her cheekbones are soft, a tangible thing that Ava can’t look at. There’s a vulnerability that clings to Lilith; it feels wrong to look at her so bare that Ava swallows. But no matter how far she’s strayed from her she always ends up at the beginning. 

Lilith watches her, before grabbing the arm of the chair stilling Ava’s squirming. Even in the hard lines of her eyebrows, (the ones that knit together at Ava’s insistence to look anywhere but her,) there’s a softness in her pupils, the deepest part of her eyes that Ava has to really look to find. 

Lilith doesn’t grab any part of her and Ava thinks her body would be less aware of it if Lilith just fucking touched her like a normal fucking person. 

“Ava,” Lilith swallows, she looks crumpled, “We cannot keep running. Eventually there will be nowhere else to go, and then what? I just watch you wither away for the rest of my life? Watch you waste away and think 'well we did the best we could'?” It squeezes out of Lilith like a dirty secret, a shame that has festered inside of her. 

It almost makes her feel wrong but Ava can feel the chair shaking, Ava can feel Lilith is shaking. Somewhere along the way Lilith has grazed her knee but Ava doesn’t register it the way it kills Lilith to confess. 

 “I need you.” 

tagging @aromarianne @tragedylure @desognthinking

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Tagged by @daisychainsandbowties

The last thing I wrote drew (which I'm allowed to show)

Or at least a snique pique

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mary and shannon shredding <3

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The Practical Guide to Getting Out of the Friend Zone, by Beatrice Adeline Silva

Happy Ace Week! This might seem like an odd fic to promo on Asexual Awareness Week, just going by the title, but it's one where I very clearly made Beatrice demisexual without actually intending to. I didn't realize this until a friend pointed out to me that Beatrice has no interest in sex for its own sake, except with Ava, and only does it to improve her ability to give Ava pleasure if and when they finally get together, and I said "oh. OH."

Anyway. Here's a fic written entirely from the perspective of Beatrice Silva as a memoir to her college years, specifically the semester when she finally got together with the girl of her dreams.

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The Gamer AU is up!

The Crusaders’ fanbase was split. Some welcomed the flashier, more aggressive plays. Others weren’t so happy about the team’s identity being shaken.

Beatrice had been watching the back-and-forth unfold across forums and feeds when the knock came. She draped the towel over the back of the chair and headed for the door.

She’d never been particularly attached to her usual style—cautious, calculated, built on covering every possibility. It had just always been the most reliable way to win. Until the postseason.

Ava was standing in the hallway, wearing the same yellow mask with the cartoon duck on it. She raised her eyebrows slightly as her eyes met Beatrice’s. After staring for a moment, she stepped inside without a word. Beatrice held the door as she passed, watching her. Once the door closed with a soft thud, Ava walked further in, hands still in her pockets. Then she glanced back over her shoulder.

“I’m using your bathroom.”

She didn’t wait for a response and disappeared inside. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of Beatrice’s mouth. If her old methods weren’t enough to win anymore, she was ready to try something else.

Until she won.

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last thing you wrote

rules: i broke them. post as much as you want of some art you are making🥰

tagged by @the-darkness-does-not-bargain 🥰🥰thank you!

this is not beatrice. this is a hand clenched around a golf club and this is you, willing to break against it and this is a cacophony of shadows in the streets of a distant town, another place and beatrice walking the balustrade the next morning just as though nothing bad has ever happened to either of you.

this is not is not the girl you tried to die for and it is not the girl you really did die for. the is bad things come visiting because you, if you know anything at all, know how beatrice holds herself when injured.

it is not like this. blood slides down her neck and she does not so much as twitch a shoulder at the slimy feeling of it.

you, often, pressing a hand to stop a wound from tickling her. sweat damp slick all around your grip on her, and how skin shines when feverish and this is not beatrice. unruffled despite the signs of violence on her, when she must always take everything so personally.

even when others would come and tell you of her standing unresponsive in the showers, you would come and find emotion written plainly on her face for those with your eyes to see. now, you see differently, in subtle ways that make you sick. a vertigo of colour and texture and you allowed her name to fall out of you when you saw her, but you never let it touch the ground.

you want to tell her that she ran right through you, and there are exit wounds. what would she do with those? blink in that hurt way she has, jaw firmed underneath so you want to grab it, do things to it. already you are fighting stupid feelings about having been caught with camila’s fingertips on your collarbone, but now you imagine yourself coming down to the showers to this. no flicker of anything in her face.

you think, probably, that this beatrice does not know anything about math at all.

‘no.’ your voice is gravel grown used to its own roughness. slow, you drop each syllable as though it is a bullet casing, to remind yourself that the body you are about to hurt belongs to someone you love, ‘not beatrice.’

‘what? lili-’

you move

tagging @estherthenormal @goldfyshie927 @kaisollisto @thistleation but no pressure ofc!🥰

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