#this one is actually from Beatrice’s POV!

[sylhea-raemi]

nero is funny bc he wasn't the first member to be recruited by makia, but he's technically the first gt9 member to be shown.

[lyn-js]

Dancing under the Moonlight | Prologue

Bradley Bradshaw x OC Reader (Nickname Honey)

Summary: After the Uranium Mission, Bradley Bradshaw decides he wants to settle down. Maybe even start a family at some point in time. But he felt so tired (and old) to be in the dating scene. That's until he sees a beautiful new bartender at The Hard Deck. Not only that; turns out she's Penny's niece, Beatrice. They both hit it off amazing, but for some reason, Beatrice isn't letting her walls down yet. But Bradley is going to get to the bottom of what Bea's big secret is.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, drinking, mentions of past abuse, fluff, eventually smut 18+, age gap (24 & 35)

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You’re hiding in the closet in your bedroom. Scared for your life, trying to cover your mouth so he doesn’t hear you. You suddenly jolt at the sound of someone knocking on your door. But you don’t answer it, you stay inside not wanting to be found. A few minutes later you hear the door creak open, your whole body is pulverized with fear. You hear footsteps all around the room. But you finally hear someone call out for you.

“Bea…Beatrice, are you here?” you hear a female voice. You come to realize it’s you, Aunt Penny. You let out a gasp and start to let out all the waterworks from your body and start to sob uncontrollably. You hear her footsteps padding her way to the closet. She lets out a gasp of her own. Seeing you curled up with your knees to your chest, seeing the healing bruises on your arms and legs. She kneels and takes her hands and puts them on both sides of your cheeks, so she can fully see you.

“Oh, my honeybee. You’re safe now. Nobody is gonna hurt you ever again. Okay? I won't let that happen.” You just let her hug you. You miss having a warm embrace with you. You miss that motherly love and affection. You missed the one person who truly believed in you, and who wanted you to succeed in your dreams. You missed your mom.

You just simply nod, and let more tears run down your face, but you feel your aunt wipe away those tears, and give you a gentle kiss on your forehead. The next thing you know, you’re gathering all of your stuff that you can fit in Aunt Penny’s car. Including some of your clothes for work and some shoes. But before you went out the front door you ran over to where the TV stand was, untape your necklace that was on the back of it. You knew Zeke would look for anything worth anything to you and pon it off. But you would never let him take this away from you, your mom got you a necklace with a honey bee-shaped charm on it for graduation.

You took everything you needed and went off with Aunt Penny to Fightertown U.S.A.

(Bradley POV)

You were walking into The Hard Deck like any other normal night. You’ve been at this whole routine since the mission was a success. Ever since then, you haven't been able to sleep. Not being able to sleep alone for that matter of fact. You've always wanted to have somebody, somebody to come home to. To have a warm body next to you, someone to have a conversation with, actually talk about something other than work. Instead of walking into an empty apartment, falling asleep with no noise, slowly diving into an abyss of nothing. 

But now, you’ve found a group of friends that you can talk to, hang out with, and find a connection with people you haven't had in a long time. 

All of the squad was there, including Mav. We were all having a good time playing pool and darts, drinking, and making jokes with everyone. Until we see out the window, Penny pulls into the parking lot super fast. Then we all look over at Mav a second later when he gets a phone call from Penny. 

“Hey, Pen-” He stops talking, getting cut off by her, we can actually kind of hear her through the phone. “Hey, Hey… slow down hon. Okay. Okay, I’ll be right out. Bye, hon.” We all look at him in a confused state. Something wrong Mav?” Phoenix asks with a little bit of curiousness in her voice. Then all of us asked but with only our facial expressions. Then, he just gives us a confusing stair. Not knowing what to say after talking With Penny. “Rooster. Walk with me for a minute?” he asks looking at me. I just nod and leave the group to see what he’s looking for.

“What’s up, whaddya need?” I ask him with the same curiousness in my voice. “Penny…Penny’s niece is here, and she doesn’t want to go back to the house. She doesn’t want to leave her there. So, is it possible for you to just help me bring her into the back?” He asks you. You're just trying to wrap your head around your head the crazy information you've just heard. You just agree and walk out with him.

You both are out of the bar and slowly make your way over to Penny. When you do, you see her talking to someone. That must be her niece that Mav was talking about. you think to yourself. You see both of her legs on the seat, pulling them close to her chest, just looking out the passenger window staring into oblivion. You can see a little bit of the fading bruises on parts of her legs. You’re starting to put your fists into a ball, almost making them turn ghost white. Not a lot. Just a little though.

When you see Penny go around to the other side to collect her from the passenger seat, you see her cling to Penny, almost like she would disappear if she had let her go. But Penny just whispers to the girl sweet nothings and tells her everything is going to be all right. Then we walk both of them into the bar.

When we get in, the group looks at me and Mav. Wondering if we had any answer to what was happening. We just look back, and keep walking to the back where Penny’s office is. 

Once we get back there Penny sits her down and just wraps her in a hug and kisses her on the forehead. I start to daze out for a second, I can’t help when I see someone giving someone/thing else affection.

It always brings me back to when someone close and important to me. My mom. She would always make things feel better, and she would always make sure I felt safe, loved and cared for. When I lost her, I felt so alone, and like I had nobody else in the world to love and take care of me. Sometimes I wish she was still here.

But I snap out of my daze and focus on the situation before me.

(Back to your POV)

The only thing I can keep my eyes on are the pictures hanging on her wall, and some framed on the shelves. Some pictures were of my aunt and my mom when they were young. God, she looks so pretty. You thought to yourself when looking back at the same honey-colored eyes that you inherited from her. Others were of you when you were a baby, all the way up to a teenager. Graduation day, sleepovers with your best friend Chantal, and holding your baby cousin Amelia with her drool falling onto the front of your shirt. Even though you thought it was so gross, but you didn't care. You just wish you could just close your eyes and go back in time. Going back to when you were younger. When your amazing mom was alive. To when you were the most happy.

You just wanted to be left alone, curl up into a ball hide away from the world, and never be seen again. Not only were you embarrassed that you were about to start crying like a fucking maniac, but you look up for only a second, and you see a really cute mustached guy standing across from you. You’re on a fuckin’ roll Beatrice!! 

You see Penny crouch down on the floor to talk to you. “Hey Honey,” she said with a warm smile, I just muster up a half-one because you were feeling so tired and worn down. “I have to go back out just for a little bit, but I have someone who can wait here with you. Is that okay?” You don't answer just yet, but again you look up and see the cute mustache guy is still there. He smiles and gives a simple wave, not seeming too scary. You simply nod and she kisses you on the cheek “I’ll be back in a little bit Honeybee, if you need me, or anything just call out for me. Okay?” I just give a quiet “okay” and then she gets up to leave.

Both your Aunt Penny and the other man walk out the door to go back to work. Just leaving you and the Mustache guy alone. With nothing to do. “You speak up to him “You don’t have to stay with me if you-” he cuts you off. “Even though we’re not talking, it’s nice to have some company. Especially if it’s not with Bagman annoying the shirt out of everyone,” he says. I let out a little chuckle, but my smile fades a little bit when he tries to shut the door. “C-could you keep the door open… please,” I stand up and say a little loudly. He looks back at me and I cower back in the wheely chair. “Hey, hey it’s okay if you want to keep the door open. We’ll keep it open, we're playing by your rules. Okay?” a little bit of tension leaves your body, and you let out a big breath. Not knowing why you were holding your breath. You look up to him speaking again.

“Is it okay if I can sit next to you? I mean, on the floor if that’s okay with you,” he says pointing to the floor tile next to the chair. “Oh no, I don’t want you to sit on the ground,” you say wanting to put up a fight. But also kind of knowing you would lose because you couldn’t say no to this attractive, cute, and tall man. Snap out of it. You just met him, get your mind out of the gutter stupid!

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem, I’ve been cramped in an FA/18 for hours. Sitting on the floor in a small office is a piece of cake,” he says while kneeling and taking the spot next to you. You wanted to giggle a little bit because of course your aunt has a small office, and you look at this man that’s as tall as a fucking oak tree trying to sit on the small, maybe a little bit dirty floor. Also seeing him scrunch his long legs close to his body. Trying to get me to think he is living his best life right now.

“I’m sorry, but I know for a fact that you are so uncomfortable right now,” you say to him, and starting to warm up a little bit. “Oh come on, I am living the life right now. Somebody get me a margarita.” he quietly yells out the front door. That has me leaning back in my chair laughing, which leads him to laugh with me. 

After your laughter dies down a little bit, you both fall into silence, only hearing the rowdy patrons from the bar. You see him stick his hand out and start to speak. “I’m Bradley by the way. Bradley Bradshaw at your service.” You giggle a little bit more when his other hand comes up to his forehead to salute you. You were a little hesitant at first. Not wanting to fall into another trap. But for some reason, you feel sort of different around him. You feel a type of warm, and sweet comfort from him, you want to believe in yourself .He doesn’t seem so bad. But you try so hard to shove warm and lovey-dovey thoughts in the back of your mind. But you just can help it.

 Just when he was about to drop his hand back down to his side, you put your hand out too. “Beatrice Benjmine. Also at your service.” You also offer the fake salute, then you hear him chuckle and take your hand to shake. His hand feels so warm, and calloused against your small dainty ones. You could also see a big size difference in your hands too, wanting to know what was also big about him. OH MY GOD BEA, What are you doing!!!

You snap out of your mind and come back in the moment. You both are still looking at each other. Hands still together and shaking. But you both drop each other hands and fall into a light conversation until you hear Aunt Penny coming into the office telling you it’s closing time and heading home. You and Bradley both decide to get up so he can walk you and your Aunt out to her car.

When all three of you were outside and walking to the car you heard Bradley speak up and talk to you. “It was nice meeting you, Beatrice. Hopefully, I will see you again,” Once again putting his hand up to salute you. You start to giggle. “It was a pleasure meeting you too.” you salute back. After that he walks past you to get the passenger door open, you give him a warm smile and get into the seat. When He closes your door you see him through the window smiling at you and giving you a small wave. You wave back when Aunt Penny starts to pull away, but you can see him in the rearview mirror walking over to a blue car and getting in, maybe going home himself. But you just stare back out the window watching the waves roll to the shore with the moon sparkling over the waves.

You want to believe Bradley is a good guy, that he wouldn’t hurt you like Zeke did. But you have a sense of love and protection he would have for his other friends he was talking about earlier. You wanted to trust your mind, but you couldn’t just yet.

Even though you just met him that night, you wish you could form a good and happy friendship with Bradley. But being your usual crazy self, thinking in the back of your mind. Only to hope it can turn into something a just little more.

I hope you all like the prologue for this story. I have a big story line for Beatrice and Bradley.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you want to be added to the taglist. If I forgot anybody message me and let me know. You will be added.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @shanimallina87 @angelbabyyy99 @callsign-magnolia

Once again dividers are by @saradika

[thecousinsdangereux]

if i'm falling wrong [1/1]

notes: over on Twitter, moonyriot has been working on a multi-part journal from Ava's POV covering her time in Switzerland and beyond. She asked me if I wanted to join in on the fun and write a short one-shot to cover some of the events in part 6. (If you haven't seen any of her posts, here's the first one. They are incredible so definitely check them out.)

—

“The integrity of the upright guides them,” Ava reads, taking care to enunciate each word, “but the crookedness of the treacherous destroys them. That’s Proverbs 11:3, Beatrice.” 

Beatrice definitely knows, which is — Ava thinks — what makes it so funny. Or. Funny to her, at least. Maybe not so much for Beatrice, whose lips have flattened into a thin line that hides almost all of their pretty pink hue (a color Ava has taken a liking to in a way that definitely relates to how often she finds herself staring at Beatrice’s mouth). 

“It is better to promise nothing than to promise something and not be able to do it,” Ava continues, because she’s never been any good at knowing when to stop. “That’s Ecclesiastes. And — ooh, this is a good one — A person who promises a gift but doesn’t give it is like clouds and wind that bring no rain. That’s — ”

“Proverbs again, yes, thank you, Bible.com.” 

“It’s actually Biblereasons.com.” She shows off the screen of her phone, the one that she’s definitely supposed to be using sparingly (and never does). “But sure, I can go to your bible website of choice. Whatever you want. Pretty sure I’m still going to find the same answer, though. Honestly, I would’ve thought a nun would know that lying is bad. Not to brag, or anything, but I learned that one when I was like five, or something.” 

For reasons unknown, this pries Beatrice’s lips wide, dragging them out into a full smile, pink mouth and small indent at the corner appearing just as quickly as Ava’s pulse picks up, heart slamming up against the poor, battered walls of her chest. 

“How odd,” Beatrice begins, in a low drawl that means Ava’s in trouble (in so many ways). “Because I seem to recall you telling Hans, just yesterday morning, that you were allergic to apples. As a result, he traded pastries with you, leaving you with the chocolate eclair you’d been all but salivating over since you first noticed it in the break room. Given that I know that you were perfectly able to consume a slice of apple pie that the neighbors brought up last week, I am forced to conclude that — ”

“Okay, okay! Jesus. Pump the brakes, Miss Marple. I’m allowed to lie; I’m a dirty sinner or whatever. But you hold yourself to a higher standard, right?” (Unfortunately, Ava adds, but only mentally, because yeah.) “So when you said ‘Ava, if you’re able to best me in a mighty trial of combat, I will bequeath to you a single portrait wherein my lips are upturned in joyous felicitations’ or whatever, I took that as an oath, Bea. A serious, serious oath.” 

“One, I don’t sound like that. Two, no English person alive sounds like that. Why do you default to the Regency era when you’re trying to mock my accent?” 

By now, Beatrice’s smile has really started to crack open, showing off the slightest sliver of white behind those lips. It’d be unfair to say that this (the moment where Beatrice’s eyes crinkle with a laughter she most likely won’t release) is always Ava’s goal in any conversation she has with Beatrice, but maybe it is always an intended stop along the way, whatever the actual destination might be. 

(Other pitstops of note include: the cute scrunch of her nose whenever she’s focused on Ava alone, the half-tilt of her head whenever she’s considering something Ava’s said, the almost absentminded brush of her fingers along Ava’s forearm whenever she wants her to pay especially close attention. There’s a common theme here, but Ava’s well-aware of her own preoccupation, so it’s fine. Probably.)  

“Uh, because I’m paying you a huge compliment? Ungrateful much? Mr. Darcy is like… the hottest the British have ever been. Not that that’s hard because otherwise they kind of really suck, but I’m trying here, Bea, and you’re giving me nothing but attitude. And lies.”

Beatrice sighs. It’s cute enough that Ava nearly sighs too, longing bubbling up behind her lips.

“I told you I would smile for one of your pictures if you pinned me during training. It was implied you would do so without cheating.” 

With a tsk that doesn’t sound anything like the one Beatrice sometimes uses (a low sound from the back of her throat that always did very little to help Ava concentrate), Ava takes a half-step closer so that she might properly waggle a finger in Beatrice’s face. 

“I’m only doing what you taught me, Bea I thought I was supposed to use all the resources at my disposal?” 

Beatrice promptly bats the finger away. But that’s sort of the point. (Sometimes, it’s a little pathetic, the lengths Ava will go to make sure Beatrice is touching her at literally every possible opportunity, but Ava’s never really minded being a little pathetic for a good cause. And Beatrice is honestly never hard to bait, at least in this particular way.) 

“Ava, you bit me.” 

“Which was using all the resources at my disposal! Come on! If I’d been in a real fight, you would’ve called that innovative!” 

“Perhaps if you hadn’t used your — ” Delightfully, Beatrice takes a small, steadying breath before her next word, which, to Ava (who’s spent months studying Beatrice with the rigor of a staunch academic) is as much of a giveaway as one of her cute little blushes. “ — tongue.”

“I think the element of surprise would still work just fine,” she insists, but then Beatrice gives her a look, one that she knows won’t allow for any debate over the merits of licking her enemies, and she gives in nearly instantly. (Ava’s really only interested in using any part of her mouth on one person alone, anyway.) “But fine. Okay. Good note, teach.”

Winter has begun to fade from the air and, as they walk back towards their apartment in the meandering pace that has become their custom, Ava is pleased by this for two reasons. One: their neighbors — who bake enough that Ava’s convinced they’re working up to competing on one of those bafflingly polite baking shows — now leave their windows open, filling the air with the most delicious smells, noticeable even a block away from their home. And Two: Beatrice has taken to wearing short-sleeves again, which means that when she nudges Ava now (with a charmed little roll of her eyes), it’s bare skin against bare skin. 

In training, this is both a pleasure and a problem, because then it’s Beatrice’s shorts and Ava’s shirt being pushed up as Ava gets pinned to the ground and it’s the skin of Beatrice’s inner thigh against the skin of Ava’s hip and that’s a lot more than the casual brushes she’s gotten used to. Ava had long ago realized that any and all logical thought flies out the fucking window when faced with a muscular thigh, so really, it hadn’t been all that much of a surprise when it’d resulted in Ava doing something completely insane. 

Like taking Beatrice’s thumb into her mouth. And biting it. And maybe sucking a little. Honestly, it’s all a bit of a haze, because Beatrice had then made a noise that would most certainly be featured in Ava’s dreams for the next week or month or year, in the most mortifying (and sexy) way possible. 

And to be fair, it had worked in getting Ava out of the chokehold she otherwise would’ve probably happily died in. 

So there’s that.

“Something with chocolate today,” Beatrice comments, and Ava short-circuits for a second, thinking about chocolate and fingers and skin and the really incredible potential combination of the three, before she remembers the neighbors and the smell and the baking and feels her cheeks burn.

“Uh — yeah. Maybe they’ll have extra to share.” The windows on the first floor apartment are (of course) open as they approach, and Ava raises her voice just enough for it to carry through. She catches the intertwined laughter of the neighbors that results, and shoots Beatrice a wink that dispels some of the heat building within her, an emergency vent that she’s learned to rely on. 

“You’re shameless,” Beatrice says, in the exact way she always does whenever she doesn’t mean it (lips quirking at the corners). 

“And you’re welcome, when we end up getting brownies, or whatever they’re making.” 

The door to their building never unlocks easily, but it’s gotten worse as the temperatures have started to rise; Beatrice shoulders it open, muscles bunching in her back, and Ava does absolutely nothing to help, watching the flex of her shoulder blades under the tight, gray fabric. 

“You know me,” Beatrice says lightly, knocking the side of her sneakers against the bottom of the stairs before heading up (and Ava does know her, enough to wait patiently for her to complete this small ritual). “I’m always craving sweets.” 

“You are sometimes! Whenever you come home from a night shift, you break into my stash! And since you have a lot of those coming up, on account of you losing our bet…” 

Beatrice laughs, a soft huff that turns into an adorable little squeak when Ava shoves past her on the staircase and snatches the keys from her fingers, bursting through their apartment door with far less effort than Beatrice had needed below. 

“You’re not letting this one go, are you?” 

It’s probably response enough when she snatches her camera off of the kitchen table and points it at Beatrice as soon as she steps across the threshold, but even this (pretty impressive!) sneak attack fails. Beatrice is quick enough to throw a hand up before the snap, lowering it only when Ava does the same with the camera. She continues to eye her warily as she bends down to untie her shoes, only abating to cast a significant look in Ava’s direction, which persists until Ava kicks hers off far less elegantly.

“It’s one photo, Bea!” she grumbles, watching as Beatrice arranges their sneakers in a perfect little line. “Just… one smile. Let’s just get it out of the way, you know? Look up and … ”

Beatrice does look up. 

Ava has to give her that.

It’s the only warning she gets before Beatrice is standing and her fingers are wrapping around Ava’s wrist and she’s pressed flush against Ava’s front and well. Sure. That’s one way to get Ava to shut up. Probably the only way. Ava knows this about herself, but really can’t find any regret when it’s led her right here. 

“You cheated,” Beatrice murmurs lowly. “Why would I reward that?” 

Ava has a lot of thoughts around the concept of Beatrice rewarding her, and absolutely none of them are good. (Or, rather, they’re all extremely good. Very good. Far too good for her to be able to say out loud, those curling, irreverent thoughts that stick her tongue to the roof of her mouth and keep her up at night.) So it’s really out of mercy that she phases then — slipping out of Beatrice’s grip the only way she knows how that doesn’t involve cheap tricks — stepping back and lifting her camera again. 

What follows transpires a bit too quickly for Ava to track. 

She’s seen Beatrice fight in all sorts of situations — at full speed in back alley brawls and at half-tempo when leading her through a new form — but Ava’s pretty sure she’ll never see enough to lose the surprise that comes from being on the end of one of Beatrice’s first strikes. She’s in front of Ava and then she’s not; it’s really as simple (and terrifying) (and hot) as that. One moment, Ava has her camera ready, and then she’s facing a different direction entirely, her hand twisted behind her back, her camera falling from her grasp. Beatrice is fast here too, swooping down to catch it before it hits the floor, but this allows Ava to throw an elbow backwards, a hit that surely would have broken something in Beatrice’s face had it landed (but which Ava knows by now never will). 

“Double or nothing?” Ava pants, stumbling forward and twisting back around to face Beatrice, who’s gently placed the camera on the floor, carefully out of the way. 

“Two photos if you win and you take my night shifts for two weeks when you lose?” 

“Wait, I don’t like the if/when placement in that senten — ”

She barely ducks out of Beatrice’s grapple, cutting herself off mid-word to manage it, a little breathless already. It occurs to her that she’s definitely made a mistake here, looking up and finding Beatrice serious and focused, strands of her hair slipping out of the low bun that’s already started to loosen. Even in the warm light filtering through their apartment windows, Beatrice’s eyes look dark, and Ava spends a second too long suppressing a shiver at the sight. Which means, of course, she’s unable to avoid the next hit: a full tackle to the floor. Either Beatrice really doesn’t want Ava to take this photo or she really wants to get out of her night shifts, because she’s not going about this in the calm, measured way Ava is used to. (There’s a third option and it’s one Ava likes best; maybe Beatrice just really wants to pin Ava to the floor, to feel Ava underneath her, to feel Ava squirm against her front, fighting to get out of the hold. This is the option Ava relates to best and maybe it’s the one driving her now, putting her at a disadvantage just as significant as all the other ones.) 

Ava hits the ground hard, enough to knock air out of her lungs, but she’s saved, partially, by starting on a twist mid-air, mindful of how dangerous it’ll be if Beatrice gets her flat on her back. Not that Ava is opposed to this idea. Not on a normal day. Not even today, if only Beatrice would — 

“Good,” Beatrice says, breaking through Ava’s thoughts, though not in a way that is helpful at all. Beatrice most certainly notices the jerk of Ava’s hips the single word causes, but almost equally as certainly dismisses it as part of Ava’s attempts to break free. “But you over-rotated. Just slightly. See how I can use that to put you on your stomach?”

Always the instructor, Beatrice explains precisely how she’s going to best Ava before she actually does it; if Ava were better at this (if Beatrice were worse) this might actually be of some help in countering Beatrice’s efforts. Sadly, she’s not, so it isn’t. 

“Fuck,” Ava grunts, face pressed directly into the carpet of their bedroom. It’s honestly painful, the way Beatrice’s knee presses into the center of her back, but it’s a sort of pain that Ava’s come to find — over their months together — that she doesn’t especially mind or maybe even likes and maybe gets a fair amount of pleasure from and maybe thinks about it from time to time whenever she gets a moment alone and — yeah. Fuck is really the only word for it. 

“What now, Ava?” Finally, there’s a hint of the breathlessness in Beatrice’s voice: when she locks one of Ava’s arms behind her back, and Ava attempts to land some kind of backwards headbutt, pushing herself up off the floor with her free hand. “What’s your best option?” 

Beg you to have your way with me, doesn’t really seem like the response Beatrice is looking for, but Christ a girl can only take so much. And right about then, Ava knows she’s going to cheat (because it’s either cheat or blurt out something that will inevitably be extremely horny) but is it really cheating if there hadn’t been any rules put forth in the first place? 

She’s gotten better about controlling the Halo, so it barely gives off any light before she lifts onto one knee and throws herself backwards, phasing neatly through Beatrice’s front. The effort Beatrice had been using to hold her down works against her now, effectively swapping their positions as she falls forward, and Ava’s quick to use that momentum, reaching around to grab the front of Beatrice’s shirt so she’s flipped with the motion. Another (gentle) Halo blast lands Beatrice on her back, Ava straddling her hips and pinning both of her hands on either side of her head. 

“You didn’t say no Halo,” Ava says in a rush, as though the victory will be taken away instantly, as though she cares at all about some stupid bet instead of being on top of Beatrice whose eyes are wide and lovely, whose lips are parted and pink, whose chest is — not something Ava is looking at, thank you very much. Because she’s respectful, she can be respectful, she has to try to be respectful. 

“I didn’t,” Beatrice says finally and then fucking licks her lips, like God Himself has decided that Ava needs to be punched directly in the face with attractiveness or whatever and holy shit. 

Holy shit. 

“Then I — that means — uh — ” She releases one of Beatrice’s wrists like it’s burning, very much aware of the intensity of the gaze resting on her, and blindly roots around on the floor behind her until she finds the camera, resting just where Beatrice had left it. “I get to do this.” 

Her fumbling with the camera is hardly graceful, but honestly, the fact that she’s able to produce words at all is nothing short of a miracle, so she’ll take it. Her right hand is still wrapped around Beatrice’s left, fingers circling her wrist as she pins it to the floor, and she takes a picture of this first, holding her breath all the while. 

“For — uh — proof?” she offers, a little weakly, and Beatrice’s stare finally breaks, intensity replaced by something much softer, something that seeps into the corner of her eyes and mouth in equal measure. Ava’s struck by the sight as much as she is by anything else, and her grip relaxes enough that Beatrice can slip out of the hold, both hands drifting down until they come to rest just alongside either one of Ava’s knees. 

“Proof for who?” 

“What do you — proof for literally everyone, Bea; Hans, Camila, Lilith, Mother Superion, Jillian, the regulars at the bar, our neighbors, the lady who runs the bakery down the street, any random person I walk past for the next month. Hell, I might take out an ad in The Guardian, or something, are you kidding?” 

Beatrice laughs and it’s like a crack in the universe, or something equally and unequivocally earth-shattering. Lungs empty, air knocked fully out, Ava lifts her camera almost instinctively, only to find her view devastatingly obstructed, Beatrice’s arms flung over her face (the grin, still wide with laughter, barely peeking out from underneath). 

“Beatrice,” she groans (or maybe pouts).

“I’m sorry!” And she sounds it too, even through the smile, the half-giggles now petering out. “Truly. I’m not used to being photographed. I can’t think of a time it happened before you took up this hobby, not outside of unpleasant family photoshoots and the like.”

Ava’s heart flips painfully in her chest, but Beatrice is quick to soothe, fingers falling back down to brush against the outside of Ava’s leg, as though Ava’s the one in need of comfort.

“I’m not protesting, Ava. Just tell me what to do.” 

Photographs are meant to reproduce moments, memories, emotions, but Ava’s not sure the best photographer in the world, with hundreds of thousands of euros in equipment, would ever be able to fully capture Beatrice as she is now, fondness bleeding from the tips of her fingers, affection lighting the brown of her eyes, and love — or something an awful lot like it — bending her mouth, a bow pulled taut with an arrow that might be Ava herself, as inconceivable as the notion is. 

“Pretend the camera isn’t here,” Ava rasps, her breath hot (heated by all the things boiling inside of her now). “Just look at me.” 

Beatrice looks at her. 

Ava stops breathing. 

She takes the picture. The camera lowers. And Ava forgets about it entirely, object permanence completely obliterated by a force far stronger than something as trivial as human development.

Underneath her, seemingly content to be straddled, Beatrice looks calm, which isn’t unusual, because she almost always looks calm, so maybe it’s that she feels calm too. Like all the things Ava can always sense running through her at speeds only known to light have slowed down or disappeared entirely. The mission, her duties, her vows, her expectations, these things have washed away (temporarily but completely) until it’s only Beatrice left, staring at her lips. And Ava had thought she’d experienced wanting Beatrice in every way, but this one is new.

(She wants Beatrice like this: exactly herself, without anything else getting in the way.)

“Beatrice,” she says, a hitch in her voice breaking the name into three, distinct syllables. “I’m — ”

Cursed. Saved. Ruined. Blessed. Fucked. 

Ava’s not sure which word applies when the smoke alarm goes off downstairs.

It is not especially loud, or piercing, but it goes off and all of the easy calm flees from Beatrice’s eyes as she jerks upwards, back lifting off the floor until she’s close, closer than before, so close and it’s too much, maybe, or maybe Ava’s instincts are working against her (or for her?) because she falls back as soon as Beatrice completes the motion, balance disastrously (helpfully?) disrupted. 

Oh well, Ava thinks, as she lets herself fall back. Maybe a bit of brain damage would do her some good. 

Except that, of course, Beatrice catches her, a simple slip of her hand around Ava’s back, palm pressing to the middle of the Halo, shocks spreading out from the point of impact. 

“You’re what?” Beatrice asks, terribly quiet, as though she feels the air rearranging around them, molecules shifting back and forth between possibilities and outcomes. 

And if Beatrice were still calm, if everything else were still pushed away, if Beatrice was just Beatrice in that moment — just as she’d been so briefly before — it would not be a choice, what Ava did next. And maybe it isn’t one now either, but it’s in the opposite direction: pulling away rather than pushing forward (creating space rather than closing it). 

“I’m — just — I’m done. With the photos.” Decision made, breath returning, she shrugs, a little bashful now, the steady beep of the alarm and the laughter of their neighbors drifting up from below. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Beatrice’s head tilts, a small crease forming in between her eyebrows. Some people want money or power or peace or the answers to the universe, but Ava thinks she would be content, if only she could know what Beatrice is thinking right now.

“No,” she murmurs. “Not so bad at all.”

[productofaritual]

HELLO I AM SORRY TO COME SLITHER INTO UR ASKS LIKE THIS BUT I SAW U LIKE AD ASTRA (YK THE SCI FI BOOK) AND I HAVE BEEN GOING FERAL OVER IT SO PLEASE DO TALK ABT UR FAV THEMES IN IT

(if u like ofc no pressure <3)

Never apologize for asking me about AdAstra or event horizon in general. I will go feral about it all day every day any day of the week month or year I have playlists I have theories I have spinoff ideas I HAVE EVERYTHING YOU CAN HAVE WITHOUT BEING INVOLVED WITH THE CREATION OF SOMETHING OKAY

Favorite themes I mean you do spend a lot of time with Ranboo and his concerning amounts of generational trauma and depression however I am a very biased Tubbo content enjoyer so just all of Tubbo's themes from the self hatred to the guilt to the trauma and everything in between

But my all time favorite is probably the way that Ranboo sees Tubbo throughout De Terra, even though originally I didn't even notice and it was my friend who pointed it out.

Because it takes chapter 3 for Ranboo to ever even acknowledge that Tubbo can act like an ass, but even after that and ESPECIALLY in chapters 1 and 2 he just holds Tubbo on this imaginary pedestal where Tubbo can basically do no wrong like he's fucking Beatrice from Dante's Divine Comedy (I've come to really like that comparison actually). An it's so interesting for me to think about WHY Ranboo thinks like that

From Tubbo's pov, especially because we see it first, we know he's a fuck up. That he tries his best, but he's not perfect, because nobody is, duh. But Ranboo thinks he is, despite having firsthand experience of the opposite (Tubbo screaming at him after finding the Irillian codex). He is basically incapable of constructive criticism towards Tubbo and again it takes chapter 3 of De Terra for him to even consider it.

And for the explanation I'm thinking of, which again I had no part in any of the creation of the fic so it's just me having fun by speculating and anything I say should be taken that way, I'm gonna keep the comparisons to the Divine Comedy because I can and I'm unhinged. Because Ranboo has basically gone through hell (Voidfall) and when he joins the Syndicate, he subconsciously expects to now go through heaven with Beatrice (Tubbo). Except that doesn't happen and he's still fucked up because duh that's how healing works. But he's scared because it's not getting better, which we see directly on screen. And yet he's still holding onto this idea of normalcy and perfection and the person who embodies that for him is Tubbo, because he's the one who took Ranboo away from the traumatizing shitfest that was Voidfall. So Ranboo then tries to keep his own problems from Tubbo and either doesn't realize or doesn't think about the fact he can't fucking do that forever when they literally live and work together and yeah I could go on for so long -.-

[kiwiana-writes]

WITH SO MUCH OF MY HEART (THAT NONE IS LEFT TO PROTEST) by @kiwiana-writes

Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Rafael Luna, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue), Zahra Bankston, Liam (Red White & Royal Blue), Catherine Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Enemies to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Bisexual Disaster Alex Claremont-Diaz, Canon Dialogue, like an embarrassing amount of it actually but whatever, and I am including Much Ado dialogue in that as well as RWRB, Much Ado About Nothing, Much Ado About Nothing References, Inspired by Shakespeare, References to Shakespeare, in which the author nerds out about Shakespeare and queerness and also drops a James Bond deep cut, Slow Burn, not the relationship so much but the writing definitely, once they actually get together it’s kind of a relationship speedrun if we’re being honest, but we take a while to work up to the rating sorry, let Rafael Luna be the queer mentor Alex deserves, Epistolary, so much epistolary nonsense scattered throughout, Smut, Grief/Mourning, not at the same time lol, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Semi-Public Sex, Homophobia, Racism, Communication Failure, Panic Attacks, Canon-Typical Angat, Angst With a Happy Ending, POV Alternating Summary: Alex is a former child star struggling to make the transition into being seen as a serious actor. He jumps at an opportunity to perform on stage in the UK, seeing it as a way to break free from the typecasting and show what he can really do. But he wasn’t prepared to star alongside someone he hates. // Henry is a recent theatre graduate who accepts an amazing role in a queer reimagining of Much Ado About Nothing. And then it turns out his co-star is none other than the man he’s been hopelessly pining after for years—even though Henry made a terrible first impression when they met. // It’s… well, it’s practically Shakespearean.

Complete fic

Act I: I, II, III Act II: I, II, III Act III: I, II, III, IV, V Act IV: I, II Act V: I, II, III, IV

***

Part Two: The star to every wandering bark

Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Characters: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz, June Claremont-Diaz, Ellen Claremont, Oscar Diaz (Red White & Royal Blue), Leo (Red White & Royal Blue), Liam (Red White & Royal Blue), Catherine Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Fluff, tagging too extensively will spoil part 1 of this series, but trust that it's fluff and joy all the way down, spoilery summary is in the notes!, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Summary: A 5+1 coda-ish thing set through the back half of the With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) epilogue!

***

Part Three: Thus may poor fools believe false teachers

Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Oscar Diaz & Rafael Luna Characters: Rafael Luna, Oscar Diaz, Jeffrey Richards, Alex Claremont-Diaz (mentioned) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Homophobia, Bittersweet ending, but part one of the series makes it all better, POV Rafael Luna Summary: Rafael's POV of the Dad's Way cancellation; a prequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

***

Part Four: Nature's infinite book of secrecy

Fandom: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Oscar Diaz & Rafael Luna, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Rafael Luna Characters: Rafael Luna, Oscar Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Ellen Claremont, Leo, Oliver Westbrook Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, 5 Things, 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Bets & Wagers, POV Rafael Luna, and then as a bonus, POV Oscar Diaz Summary: Five times Rafael tried to figure out when Henry might propose and one time Oscar did something with that information; a sequel to With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest)

[possibilistfanfiction]

Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. I love the universe you've created for ava and beatrice. I could have said Avatrice but the thing is you write them so beautifully as individuals, all their triumphs and losses, that it doesn't feel right not to acknowledge them as they are on their own as much as they are as a couple. Anyway! I pretty much have bookmarked all your work and I keep suggesting your fics on Twitter, I'm pretty much your unofficial publicist at this point, proudly so 😆

I just finished the multitude of loving and once again you made me laugh and smile and cry and you made my heart warm and for a while, my depression didn't feel as debilitating. So thank you. I don't know what you're gonna write next whenever inspiration strikes, but if you ever do another outside pov, would you mind writing one from Diego's? I guess I'm biased because aside from your fics, I've been obsessed with do a flip by sunsafe and it warms my heart to see Diego in fics because well, I think it's safe to say that he was the one who loved ava first, he was there by her bedside and all and so it would be lovely, to know how he feels and thinks about ava and beatrice, after all the years of living his own life, after all the years wishing to see his sister, his best friend, his... Ava, because there's no traditional title that really fits them, after all the years wishing that ava is okay and... Alive, more than just surviving because even when he was a child he knew, ava was meant for such a bright and grand life, just because she was all that herself.

Anyway, just an idea, of course. My rambling is not in any way meant to pressure you into writing it 😆😅 I hope you're having a good day wherever you are. Cheers!

[first of all i love do a flip!!!! 100/10 recommend if anyone hasn't read it!!

anyway, here's a little diego pov in the butch bea universe. he's like 18 or 19? idk. yknow just roll w it :) ]

//

university is busy as hell, and it's cool that they pay for your doctor's appointments and, when you actually started getting the care you needed, you were able to do basically everything in the normal, big wide world with regular meds and check-ins — but mostly you just want to play rugby and flirt with girls (not well, but you're 18 and always kind, so who cares your success rate) and pass all of your classes. when you got adopted it had seemed like a miracle, and so you don't take any of this time for granted — not the bright sun or the grass stains on your knees or how rachel plays with your hair when you hang out in her dorm.

you don't think much of it when you get a random email from beatrice gu-knight, partially because emails are a pain in the ass and partially because nico brought over a six pack of stellas and his nintendo switch — you're the mario kart champion, undisputed — but, in the morning, when you open your phone, you think your heart might stop in your chest.

Hello Diego,

I hope you're well. I know it might seem strange to get an email like this from someone you don't know and have never even heard of, and, if you don't wish to follow up or connect, please just let me know, and that will be the end of it.

But, in the hopeful chance that you do: my name is Beatrice (she/her), and I'm reaching out to you because Ava Silva is my life partner. We've been together for a few years now and she talks of you often, and fondly; I know from her stories you were an extraordinarily joyful and sustaining part of her life at St. Michael's, and, if nothing else, I hope you understand my deep gratitude for that. I work in tech, so I was able to find this email address for you in the hopes that you might want to reconnect with Ava. We live in Los Angeles, and she's, as I'm sure you remember, wonderful. Maybe even more wonderful now, as I hope you are too.

Again, if you are at all uncomfortable, please feel no pressure to engage in any way; I won't let Ava know, so don't worry about that. If you would like to reconnect, though, you can respond to this email, or call or text me at my cell listed below. Thank you.

Warmest regards,

Beatrice

it takes you a few seconds to get it together, because, what the fuck, first of all. second of all, ava — one of your favorite people ever, and someone you miss every day. who apparently has a very proper and seemingly kind partner named beatrice, and lives in california. ava is alive, and probably really happy. the last time you saw her she was scared and upset and you had thought she died before that. you had thought you would never see her again.

Hey, this is Diego, you text the number on Beatrice's email. you think about the time difference, and, sorry if it's the middle of the night for you

it takes a minute or two, but then your phone vibrates. Diego, wonderful to hear from you! I'm glad my email wasn't too intense.

and, like, maybe it was a little, but your calc III professor is a fucking nutcase, so you kind of have a high bar.

Ava works late sometimes, so don't worry about the time difference right now

it's sweet, you think, that beatrice doesn't work late, or, whatever, maybe she does, but she's up because ava is awake. because ava will be coming home, or finishing up in an office. you wonder about their life, what their home looks like and if ava's laugh is still just as awesome. and, like, what is ava's job? is she still paralyzed, or can she walk like she had the last time you saw her? you're glad for her, honestly, that her partner is a girl, because ava thought boys were hot but also seemed to like girls more — so, like, how did they fall in love? it's funny to imagine ava as a grownup, with a partner and a home and a whole life, but it's also the best.

do you want to facetime tomorrow or something, you text, because you don't really know what else to say, but you want to find out: about your sister, and the life she's apparently built. you think — if ava is anything like how she had been when you were younger — you definitely want to be in it.

I would love that, beatrice responds immediately. you work out the details and, eventually, you go to class and try to have a normal day. but ava is out there, happy, in california, with a partner who clearly cares about her. it feels like a gift, even to know. it feels like a gift, to get to be in her warmth again.

/

beatrice, when you answer the facetime call at exactly the second the clock hits 7 pm your time, is beautiful. it doesn't surprise you, not really, because you remember ava being pretty, and, even more than that, fucking awesome. beatrice is younger than what you think someone with that formal a name would be, with short dark hair that flops into her eyes, which are kind of gold in the light through the window of whatever room she's in. 'hello, diego,' she says, and, yeah, ava probably loves that accent.

it makes you laugh, but, like, in a nice way, to know that ava has a whole partner. a whole entire person who shares a life with her, who helps her with stuff and — beatrice is a saint for this — laughs at her puns.

'hey,' you say, feel awkward and a little sloppy in the face of the chic big oil painting behind her, the hoodie you know is expensive because your friend artur had had it marked on his stockx for, like, months now. 'uh, i'm diego. nice to meet you.'

beatrice smiles, and you see her freckles, and you realize, in a flash, a truth you know implicitly — that ava loves this person. ava picked this person to spend her life with. the world is cruel, you know better than most, but the world is also so, so kind.

'i'm so happy you responded to my email,' she says, less formal and with a slight laugh, mostly with joy. 'ava is the best, and i know that — she misses you. she loves you, a lot. i've always wanted to meet you.' you kind of don't know what to say, and you're relieved when she shakes her head. 'sorry, i'm being a lot again. believe it or not, this is my first rodeo with something like this.'

first rodeo sounds foreign from her, and it inexplicably makes you laugh. 'you're doing fine.' you realize that beatrice is just as nervous as you are, maybe even more: she loves ava. she has a whole life with ava. 'i — does ava want to talk to me?'

'i haven't told her yet. i wanted to see how you felt first, without any pressure, and i didn't want her to feel disappointed. but i know she will be... overjoyed, to have you in her life again, if you want.'

'yeah.' you think of ava's jokes and how full of life she was, even when she didn't have access to much of it herself. you think about the clumsy drawings you had made her, and how happy she was every time she got to go outside in her wheelchair. 'i do, want that. a lot.'

beatrice's smile is relieved and grateful. 'i can talk to her, then, and then maybe you two can set up a video chat? i know she'll be beside herself with excitement.'

'yeah,' you say, and you can't help but smile looking forward to it. it doesn't sound like ava's changed much, in the good ways, which is super cool. 'i'm excited too.'

/

your palms are clammy and you feel like you might throw up, but beatrice had sent you a link to a zoom and asked if the evening worked for you; you're so thrilled but also, like, what if ava doesn't like you anymore? what if she's way way cooler than you, or too grown up, or just bored by your life? it had been one thing, to lose her when you were young and confused, to have to grieve her absence so obliquely — but it would be an entirely different thing now, to know she's alive and has a life of her own and just doesn't want you in it. you don't really know how you would handle that. ava was your friend and ava was your sister, in the ways that really matter.

but, you realize very quickly, all of your anxiety was for nothing, because ava's face pops on screen — older, and her hair is shorter, and there are slight laugh lines settling into the skin around her eyes, but she mostly looks the same — and her smile is so warm and then she starts to cry and laugh and, yeah. if you do too, it's fine. no one else is in your dorm room anyway.

'hey,' she says, the first to get any words out. she's sitting up, and she waves, and you feel like you're seeing a real life miracle, right there on your computer screen. 'you look so old. i really missed you.'

'you look so old too.' she grins. 'i really missed you.'

it's a little stilted at first, probably because you're both overwhelmed, but then it's just... the fucking best. ava is a bartender, 'mostly for fun,' she says, which, whatever that means, and she still loves the beach. they apparently have a house right by the water. she starts crying again when you tell her you got adopted, that you're not so sick anymore because you have good doctors and caring parents, that you're in school to become an accountant.

'the family business?' she says, choked up, after you tell her that your adoptive mom is one too, and that she wanted you to be able to take over one day if you were interested.

it's as unbelievable to you some days as it seems to her, on bright mornings or when you get to go skiing in the cold snow, when your friends pass around a joint or when you get to go to a museum, whenever you want. 'yeah,' you say —  a family; you learn ava has one too. 'it's pretty incredible.'

/

'holy shit, ava.'

she just laughs, letting you go in front of her into her house. well, her and beatrice's house, you guess. you'd facetimed and texted a bunch with ava in the past two months, so you had figured out they were kinda loaded, and they'd both picked you up from the airport in a very sleek, fancy volvo, but, like —

'this is nuts.'

you think you might immediately cry again when you notice, right away, how there's not a single part of the house you can see that isn't accessible for someone in a wheelchair. ava had told you that she can walk but some days has a lot of pain and a hard time with mobility, and that beatrice was awesome and she had a good chair and even a van and a service dog, but you never could've imagined this. their house is huge and beautiful, like something you'd see in an AD tour you like to watch when you're stoned. ava has a cane today, and beatrice trundles in with your bag — she had insisted, quietly, but with a look that told you it would be totally pointless to argue.

'your house is awesome,' you say, to both of them.

beatrice smiles gently. 'we redid it last year, for accessibility. i think it turned out great.'

'wanna see the best part?' ava says, using her cane to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and you have to clear your throat because you had known her for so long. you had loved her for so long, your best friend in the entire world, who was smart and funny and bursting at the seams to feel it all, to really get to live.

'dude,' you say, 'of course.'

'i'm going to put your bag in your room,' beatrice says. 'and then i have a work call. but i should be done after the hour, for whatever you'd like to do, if you want me to join.'

'of course we want you to join,' ava says, and beatrice blushes and then gathers herself and kisses the top of ava's head before she offers you a thumbs up — nerdy, and it makes ava snort — and then lifts your bag like it weighs two pounds or something. 'love of my life,' ava says. 'definitely doesn't have a work call, but she's been stressed all week about making sure she gives us time to ourselves but doesn't seem aloof. huge weirdo.'

'she's hot.'

'ew, diego.'

you shrug. 'all i'm saying is that, like, i get it. not for me, because she's, like, super gay, but you know. for you.' you take a breath. 'sorry, i'm just excited.'

ava laughs. 'bea is super gay, it's true.' she points to a button on the wall nearby and then floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the living space from the patio. 'now, check this out.'

it's pretty fucking wild that ava went from the horrible orphanage, and tons of abuse that you were too small and too weak and too scared to stop, to a whole house that opens up to a day bed and an outdoor kitchen and dining area and a hot tub, a small patch of grass, and then the sea behind — but in the best kind of way. the kind of way that makes you want to tell everyone you meet that things can get better. that good things will happen to good people, at least sometimes. at least ava, who is the best of all of them.

ava motions for you to come with and walks outside, and then it's, like, genuinely the best thing ever when a black and white dog — korra, who ava sends you pictures of all the time and has featured in multiple zoom calls — who was napping in the sun, perks her head up and you swear she, like, dog-smiles at ava. 'hi, good girl,' ava says, and then claps her hands once and korra obediently, and happily, comes to ava's right side and sits, leans her little head against ava's thigh.

'i can't spend this entire time crying,' you say, and ava laughs. 'can i say hi?'

'of course,' she says. 'she's not usually formally working at home, unless i'm having a really bad day. which, you know, i'm not, but they do happen sometimes.' she shrugs and you kneel down in the sun and pet korra's soft ears as she nuzzles your face.

'she's so cool,' you say, and then kiss the top of her head and her nose. 'hey korra! i'm your uncle, i guess?'

'yeah! uncle diego.'

it makes you beam, to sit on the patio with ava as she shows you some of the tasks korra has been trained to do, and tells you about her bar you'll go to later, and points toward their outdoor shower with a sly smile. you do her the courtesy of fake gagging, although you really are just mostly happy for her, with her partner and her dog and a house that was built just for her.

eventually, beatrice comes outside, carrying a very intense charcuterie board. she places it down on the day bed, between you and ava, korra happily snoozing at your feet.

‘hi baby,’ ava says and scoots closer to you, then tugs on beatrice’s hand until she sits. ava kisses her temple. ‘this is very extravagant.’

‘well, we have a guest,’ beatrice says. ‘there’s wine inside, if you’d like a glass.’

‘i know nothing about wine,’ you admit, ‘but if there’s one you think… pairs? well with, you know —‘ you gesture to the elegantly laid out spread of food in front of you — ‘then i’ll trust you and go with that.’

ava grins. ‘yes, beatrice. be our resident sommelier, please.’

beatrice rolls her eyes, again with a blush, but then stands, ignoring ava’s pout. ‘i’ll be right back.’

‘she’s, like, really nice.’

ava lays back with a grin. ‘well she’s on her i was raised by diplomats and nannies most proper behavior right now. i don’t get charcuterie boards like this… ever.’ she takes a bite of cheese. ‘but bea is wonderful. she’s brilliant and funny and so, so kind. she’ll loosen up. i’m really excited you get to spend time with her.’

‘i’m thankful she reached out. i — i’m so happy to be here, and to see you.’

‘me too, my dude.’

beatrice comes back out with fancy real crystal glasses and a bottle of wine she explains is a vintage napa chardonnay, which mostly just makes you think it’s expensive. it probably is, with the way she efficiently uncorks it — ava practically drools, annoying, and you elbow her in the ribs — but it’s, like, really good. at least compared to the cheap wine you sometimes have with your friends when you order greek food.

‘diego,’ beatrice says, measured and anxious and, if ava’s stupid expression is anything to go by, endearing, ‘as you know, i like to surf. although it’s quite early, i was wondering if you might like to join me tomorrow? one of my best friends is an excellent instructor and the wave report looks ideally calm. ava thought you might be interested, if you’d like to learn?’

‘yeah,’ you say. ‘of course. that sounds sick.’

beatrice grins, relaxing a little. ava squeezes her hand. ‘i find it quite fun. it can be hard at first, but it’s nice to be in the water.’

‘diego gets his astounding athletic ability from my side of the family,’ ava says, patting you on the knee.

‘your side of the family?’ beatrice arches a brow.

‘yeah, the orphan side,’ you say, an old joke coming back to you, and ava gives you a high five.

‘i —‘

‘don’t think about it too hard, beatrice. diego also gets his bisexuality from my side of the family too.’

‘now that i’m willing to believe.’

ava winks at you, and then settles back into beatrice’s side.

/

admittedly, you're exhausted, so the mezcal margarita — smoky and just the right amount of sour — is hitting harder than you thought.

'okay,' ava says, 'boys are easy to flirt with.'

beatrice rolls her eyes.

'they are, bea,' she insists, then looks to you. 'sorry, diego, but boys are just... simple. they see someone hot, especially me, and there's, like, no thoughts.'

you think of the way luis had kissed you one night at a party — with his strong hands and his strong jaw and the rough, delicious scratch of his beard — after you'd just offered him a drink politely, so. honestly, that tracks.

'girls, though, diego.'

you laugh.

'you know, people who aren't men.'

'yeah, of course.'

'difficult. i just — whew.'

'aren't you, like, basically married?'

'well, yes, we're domestic partners. but beatrice is horrible at flirting. she's just lucky she's brilliant, and beautiful, and handsome, and funny.'

beatrice rolls her eyes again, although a blush spreads across her cheeks. 'i think i have more women try to flirt with me than you.'

ava huffs. 'that's because you're just — ugh.' she turns toward you. 'bea has grown into being a lesbian magnet. i once was superior. plus, boys flirt with me too.' she claps you on the back. 'either way, between the two of us, we'll teach you everything you need to know.'

'they won't,' one of their friends says, sliding in next to beatrice, who smiles and kisses him on the cheek. he's maybe the hottest person you've ever seen, with tattoos down both arms and a neat fade, probably a few years older than beatrice. 'i'm keiko,' he says, and offers his hand. his handshake is so strong and you feel yourself blush. 'i own the dojo beatrice goes to.'

'my favorite sparring partner,' beatrice says. 'partially because i have never lost.'

keiko waves her off.

'uh, i'm diego.'

ava laughs, delightedly, at how flustered you clearly are.

'well, if you want advice on boys, i am quite successful.'

'i'm sure you are.'

ava gives you a high five, mortifyingly. 'that's my man.'

'i'm cutting both of you off,' beatrice says.

'one shot, bea, please. come on. all we have to do is walk home.'

beatrice sighs dramatically and runs a hand through her hair, and keiko nudges her in the shoulder. 'for once in your life, beatrice, have a little fun.'

it takes a moment, but she laughs. 'fine. one shot, and then home.'

/

you surf the next morning, early as fuck, but you’re kind of jetlagged anyway and it’s really beautiful to watch the sunrise while you rest on a board. you haven’t popped up and you got tired pretty fast, but beatrice’s friend, ray — and beatrice herself, obviously — are patient and relaxed and don’t seem to care at all.  ava wanders out eventually, setting out a towel and drinking a to-go cup of coffee. she waves happily and blows a kiss in beatrice’s direction, who blushes. it had made you laugh, quietly, when she had put a special bucket hat designed for surfing on after she situated her wetsuit.

‘i don’t want to get sunburned,’ she explained, and then handed you a bottle of spf 100 sunscreen and a zinc stick.

eventually you ride a wave in on your knees, laughing, and then go sit by ava while you watch ray and beatrice and the rest of their little crew surf the next set, bigger on the outer break. you can tell beatrice shows off, for ava and, maybe a bit, for you. it's still early, and ava's happy to sit back in the easy quiet.

'hey,' you say after a while, during a break in sets, 'so, beatrice introduced me this morning as "ava's little brother".'

she turns to you, studies your features carefully, just like she always would when you were in the orphanage, trying to pay close attention. 'did that feel okay?'

'other than the fact that i'm taller than you —'

'— hey —'

'— of course,' you say. 'i love being your brother.'

ava scoots closer to you and bumps your shoulder with hers; you have your wetsuit down around your waist and she has one of beatrice's hoodies on, but you've mostly dried off by this point so you put your arm around her shoulders and tug her to you.

'do you, uh. sister? sibling?'

ava smiles. 'either is great.'

'okay.'

'thanks, diego.'

'nothing to thank me for there. i should be thanking you, honestly. all expenses paid trip to a bougie beach house in california to see someone i've missed so much? the dream.'

she sniffles. you don't know all the details but you know ava has been through some real shit after she — came back to life, you guess? 'i missed you too, so so much.' she clears her throat and wipes under her eyes. 'in the spirit of being your cool older sibling, what mild to moderately wild things do you want to do here. i don't want your parents to be mad at me so consider wisely.'

'tattoo.'

'do you have anything planned that you would want?'

'well, no.'

ava laughs.

'what? beatrice has cool tattoos.'

'she is a staunch believer that you should plan your tattoos in advance. but think of something and then next time we'll get you all set up with her artist, if you want.'

there's a level of maturity and care that's a little unexpected but, like, really cool? really nice. it's kind of weird and makes you a bit emotional, because ava is grown up. she's still an idiot, and constantly annoying, and very funny — but she's gotten to get older, and so have you.

'we could dye our hair,' she says, shrugging. 'easy to rectify, if it's a disaster.'

'i'm so in, man.' your hair is darker than hers, and you have no idea if she knows what she's doing, but you trust beatrice — with her neat hair and neat house and neat clothes and seemingly undying love for ava — to monitor the situation.

'maybe we can do the bi flag.'

it makes you laugh, imagining how silly it would look. 'what about just purple? like, a light purple situation.'

'i've done that before,' she tells you excitedly. 'loved it. definitely time to return.'

'deal. also, i want to try california weed.'

ava grins. 'we would have let you last night, you know, but you were actively falling asleep at the bar after one cocktail.'

'it's the time difference, i swear.'

'sure it is.'

'well, bea loves her edibles. she's very particular about them. i'm... much less particular about joints, but we can start off chill. maybe this afternoon. and then we can have tacos.'

'that sounds like a perfect day.'

she smiles. 'yeah,' she says. 'even more perfect because i get to share it with you.'

'gross,' you say, although you might suddenly cry. 'sappy.'

'yeah, yeah. whatever.'

you keep your arm around ava's shoulders and watch beatrice and ray trade tricks the next set, and then they both call it and walk, laughing, toward you. ava struggles to stand with a frown, and you offer your arm for her to take if she wants. she does, smiles quickly in thanks and then, you know too, moves on without a word. she kisses beatrice soundly on the mouth, then pushes her goofy bucket hat off her head, fastened around her neck and resting on the back of her shoulders, and then gratuitously unzips her wetsuit while ray rolls her eyes.

it's a whole big world, you learn more and more every day. ray joins you for breakfast and then ava takes you shopping while you're pretty sure beatrice just naps. ava uses her chair and brings korra, which is mostly just the coolest thing in the world to you, because she has a whole van customized too, and she just — you had known, when you were younger, when ava would get to go outside in her chair, that nothing was limiting her other than care, and access. you had been limited too, and you ached with it. you ache differently now, because ava navigates her day fully and independently: a wheelchair lift for the stairs, and a huge, beautiful closet and kitchen where she can reach everything without having to stand, and korra, who can turn on lights and open doors and brings you a juice from the fridge when you sit down and mention you're thirsty; ava grins with the command and then praises korra, and you scratch her soft head and even softer ears.

beatrice does supervise when you and ava dye your hair, but ava mostly knows what she's doing, and really gets distracted the most when she looks over at beatrice in lowslung joggers and a cutoff tank and a beanie, leaning against the doorframe quietly, a fond expression on her face. ava wears crop tops and wideleg pants and expensive sneakers and you both end up laughing when you have your matching lavender hair.

you eat edibles that make everything feel lush and slow and perfect, and beatrice laughs softly at ava's ramble about her arms, and she orders a ton of her favorite chinese food that you eat on the patio at sunset. you take some pictures on your film camera, at sunset, and beatrice takes a few of you and ava. you wish you could go back in time and tell both of you, when you were small and sad and scared and abused, that things would be this beautiful one day. that things would be this good.

ava and beatrice eventually say goodnight before they head inside to their bedroom. there's too much light pollution in los angeles to see many of the stars, but you know they're there all the same.

[littledata]

your new au was just the best type of light and fluff! Do you think you’d ever write a pt 2 to that but from Ava’s pov?

I won’t lie - mainly the smut scene had me in a chokehold ha! But also the numerous questions to Mary I feel would be hilarious

Ooh good question - can't see me writing a whole new fic but here's a little Ava and Mary scene with Ava grilling Mary about Bea:

Ava is just going to say it. It's a controversial take and not one she's proud of but she's just going to come right out with it: Mary is a bad friend.

(She's not, at all. She's Ava's best friend in the world and Ava would lay down in the street and die for her but. Still. She feels like being sort of dramatic.)

"Why won't you just tell me?"

Ava is meant to be helping Mary set up the nursery for the baby but since she's mostly useless at DIY she's been relegated to the "holding and passing" side of the operation. It gives her lots of time to ask questions.

"There's nothing to tell," Mary says. She has three screws in her mouth and she's holding up a leg of the unbuilt crib in bafflement. "How the fuck is this thing supposed to fit together?"

"You know her though." The revelation that Mary not only knows Beatrice, the current star of Ava's most elaborate (and dirty) daydreams but is friends with her is almost too much to handle. "You must know something about her. What is she like outside of having really boring taste in coffee? Does she ever wear contacts? Is she into women? That's a stupid question, actually, she's definitely into women."

Mary ignores her and begins screwing two pieces of wood together in a way that looks vaguely crib shaped. Unfortunately, this just means there are no brakes to stop Ava's train of thought from ploughing ahead.

"What movies does she like? I sort of get the vibe she's into really smart, complicated movies but also she's really cool so she'd probably watch Studio Ghibli with me, right? And she likes the X-Files so... wait, what other TV shows is she into? Does she like Buffy? I mean she's queer, so she probably likes Buffy. Is she as fancy as she seems? I mean, would I have to take her to a nice restaurant if I asked her out? I probably would, shit. I don't think I know any nice restaurants, I'll have to ask Hans - "

"Ava."

Mary rubs her forehead. "If I give you her Instagram will you shut the fuck up and help me build this crib for your godchild?"

The distraction works. Ava bubbles over with happiness every single time she remembers this kid is going to be her little goddaughter or godson. She already got the okay from Mary and Shannon to be Aunt Ava.

"Yeah, sorry," she grins sheepishly, looking for the first time at the misshapen monstrosity Mary is building. "...why the hell does the crib have five legs?"

[heartgold]

Just curious how do you interpret Sayo’s hair color? I can never make up my mind on whether I think her hair is naturally dark or light. I’ve looked into this question before and I’ve seen some say that the different hair colors are all probably part of the fiction and that in reality everyone’s hair is likely black unless they are described otherwise in the text (Beatrice, Erika and Bernkastel) . I think this is a fair interpretation but some use this to dismiss the hair colors entirely as just a way for the character designs to be differentiated and stand out more. Again its all fair interpretation but it is a little boring to me to think that way because I still think there is analysis that can be made. It’s not like its all completely random. Ange and Battler’s hair shows their relationship. The parallels between Battler and Kinzo especially looking at the young Kinzo and Tohya sprites. etc.

yea it's understandable that there's much confusion about her hair color... considering how sayo explicitly makes beatrice blonde to match battler's stated preferences in women (this was before the beatrice portrait was put up and she incorporated it into beatrice's final design later) and implies that she doesn't match his description herself i think it makes the most sense for her hair to NOT be blonde. brown like shannon's makes the most sense to me. afaik kanon's hair was confirmed to be a wig, and sayo-as-beatrice is directly shown to be wearing a wig too.

(the console release kind of fucked this up by giving like, Fukcing Everyone blue eyes when colored eyes were supposed to be a witch/magic thing in the original... and one of the things she gives beatrice that she's implied not to have is blue eyes. but at least shannon and kanon's eyes being more of a grey-blue than straight up blue Still works with their ambiguous human/furniture, real/fictional status. and their thing with the color of the sea lol. i like the idea of sayo having dark brown eyes better, though)

speaking of symbolic hair color, that's something I only really apply to lion since it feels actually relevant in this case. I personally see lion's appearance as we see them in ep7 to be a representation of them being the anti-beatrice, since what we get to see of their fragment is explicitly stated to be "edited" and mashed together with other fragments, on top of the point of obfuscating the culprit's identity. i think if you were to look into lion's original fragment without narrative obfuscations they would probably look more like sayo (a fun thing about this is that they can pass for natsuhi and krauss's biological child with either hair color LOL)

the same goes for how young sayo is portrayed in the ep7 manga. the way she looks helps to differentiate her from shannon (who is shown as a separate character from her perspective). the ep7 stageplay is how sayo as clair narrativizes her path towards becoming a witch (whereas confessions is a vent work about her trauma and lacks most of the embellishment), so it tracks that she looks different in both. in the original we never see sayo since she's the pov and lens of the story. so when the manga had to adapt it to make it more visual, it makes sense that they came up with a symbolic appearance for her that both visually distinguishes from the shannon persona (it'd be odd to see big shannon and small shannon interacting...) and presents sayo herself as the child who became a witch (her appearance here looks like a young lion and a young beatrice at the same time, in the sense that she could have potentially become either possibility). later in the stageplay the blonde young sayo decides to become a witch, "erases herself from the world" and is shown as a director of a play sitting on a couch in an ambiguous space, crafting shannon's world and only showing up in her dreams as beatrice. this is a representation of sayo the human taking the backseat as she started to engage with the world Through her personas like a witch moving pieces that i REALLY like... this was when she started hiding her heart and changed shannon's role from a supporting character in her life to the protagonist to play her role. i love all the symbolism here and how much she uses theater imagery and the lens of storycrafting to make sense of her experiences... but yea i rambled a bit but the point is, it makes sense that ep7 manga sayo looks the way she does for symbolic reasons, and the same goes for lion, all without contradicting sayo having natural brown hair.

[jtl07]

Juhu, more shenanigans 🤩👏🏼 I feel very lucky that I found you, your thoughts and writing gives me so much joy! As usual I have a prompt for you: Ava is a barista and working at cute, little café. One day a very beautiful and shy person comes in, and she catches Ava’s eyes. She orders tea (what, not coffee??) and chooses a secluded table to sit and work on something. She starts to visit the café regularly. Ava tries to flirt, maybe writing cute messages on her cup, but she can’t really read her reaction. The prompt is this scenario, but with shifting pov. Like one vistit from Ava’s and one from Bea. Sorry, this is a big one, and I can totally understand if you’re not into that. No worries! 😘

hello again anon! so glad you're excited about this lol - and actually, one of the noodles i wanted to work on is a cafe au! except with Beatrice as the barista - i'll noodle on that after this because aw, this is cute.

so yeah, let's keep going off of this scenario, and let's pick up later in the week - Beatrice has come back, same time bright (dark? lol) and early, but this time there's a bit of a line, which surprises Beatrice a little because who knew there were other people who likes to be up and about at this time of day.

the interesting thing too is that the folks in line are quite content to just be waiting - perhaps it's that she's like Beatrice, up early with some time before work and therefore no rush. Beatrice suspects, though, that some of it is also due to the sunny disposition of the barista behind the counter - Ava, Beatrice remembers, cranes her neck as subtly as she can to eye the nametag to make sure.

it's of course right at that moment that Ava catches her eye and Beatrice fights the urge to blush or duck her head as if she'd done something wrong - "welcome back," Ava says brightly, effusively, her whole body wiggling as she steams yet another jug of milk.

"it's good to be back," Beatrice murmurs, then immediately unsure if she was heard over the sound of the machines - a sharp 'speak up' resounds in her mind and Beatrice nearly flinches at the memory - but Ava either hears her or guesses at what she says or is genuinely happy to see her and Beatrice really isn't sure which one she wants to be true.

the line moves and Beatrice finds herself at the front finally, nothing and no one between her and Ava's smile this time and Beatrice almost forgoes the tea, she feels remarkably awake and energetic now. "oh! we've got some new tea by the way," Ava says, pointing to the shelf with several brand new tins of tea have been stacked.

and Beatrice knows she's just doing her job, but she can't help but feel like Ava also finds joy in this, in meeting and greeting and making for people on mornings like this. Beatrice does indeed order some tea and when Ava hands her the cup, she notices a worm drawn on the side.

"you know," Ava grins, back to wiggling again, "early bird gets the worm?"

Beatrice laughs despite herself, pays, gives a generous tip. "thank you, Ava," is all she says, all she can say, now, despite wanting to say more; despite wanting, more.

"you're welcome, Beatrice. see you again soon?" it surprises Beatrice, how soft it is, how hopeful Ava sounds, almost as if - and Beatrice breathes, allows herself to see, to really see, and trust what she's feeling - almost as if Ava is wanting more too.

"yes," Beatrice says, simple and true, smiling into the blooming feeling of something new.

[violivs]

NMTDaily: The first three of Ben’s costume party vlogs (episodes 21, 22, 23)

I’m gonna do these all as a set. They flow together as one long scene, so it makes sense. Then I’ll do another combined post on episodes 24 and 25, the second half of the story of Ben’s party vlogs. Long post under the cut!

Episode 21: hello guys i’m at pedro’s party

- Ben starts out very enthusiastic at the beginning of this clip (party party party!) but immediately gets uncomfortable when people start walking past him and it occurs to him that other people can see him vlogging. Add it to the social anxiety headcanon evidence list!

- Hero walks by and says “Batman.” And here’s the thing: she should be able to guess that it’s Ben in that costume. He’s the only one of the boys who would be filming because he’s the only one with his own channel.

- That means either she really isn’t paying attention, or Beatrice never asks where Ben is in front of Hero- or, Hero chooses not to tell Bea that Ben is there or what his costume is.

- Or she does tell Bea and Bea knows it’s Ben she’s talking to when she fires off all those insults later. I tend to think Bea does not realize she’s talking to Ben in that moment, but I had to mention the possibility.

- I’m going to watch the Bea insults Ben at the party clip now, just for fun. That video will still get its own post later, this is just an experiment to see if watching that scene first gives me any new insight into Ben’s videos about it.

- It is interesting to think about the fact that if you’re watching the series as it airs in 2014, at this point you don’t know if you’ll ever actually see the Bea insulting Ben scene itself. For all you know, Ben’s POV might be the only one you get.

- We can assume that in between this video and the next, Ben finds Pedro’s laptop, posts this video (unless he filmed and posted the first video on his phone, which seems unlikely but would be faster), then joins the party and starts drinking and dancing. In a break from the dancing he has the conversation with Beatrice, has his feelings hurt, goes and gets Pedro’s laptop and the camera, and holes up in the bathroom because it’s a convenient and private place to mope.

Episode 22: bath time it’s a bath im not actually having a bath

- First of all, shoutout to belovedcreation’s Beadick anniversary future fanfic that’s named after this episode (rated M so look it up only if you’re cool with that)

- Okay, back to the present. “Parties bring out the sad bitterness in people” definitely feels connected to “vlogging takes the sadness away”. I think this is the episode that starts Ben down the path of emotional dependence on the camera. He’s hurt, and it makes him want to brood alone instead of talk to anyone in person about it.

- “Some… princesses… are bad for your health” is a hell of a line, lol

- “Bad for your mental stability and your general well being” oh hohohoho don’t get me started on your mental health mister, I’ve literally written novellas.

- “Not to mess with people’s emotions or screw with their heads” - That’s interesting, because it sounds like Ben thinks Beatrice did know it was him she was talking to, and that she was insulting him to his face on purpose.

- “When you have a bad thought, you should just keep it to yourself.” Says the guy who called Beatrice a bitchface on camera and posted it. As lovingly as possible, *Meg’s Hypocritical song from lolilo plays in the distance*

- “Go away, I’m Batman!” Another underrated classic NMTD moment right here. I almost forget that he’s talking in the Batman voice until this line, and it cracks me up every time.

- Best comments: esthereckstein2532 from 7 years ago with “why is Ben equal parts annoying as heck and adorable?” (Huge mood, very true), and speaker8417 from three years ago with “Legit thought of the song Michael in the Bathroom” (I’m dying I’ve died I’m dead this is SUCH a great call lmao)

- Making a Ben gifset from this series of episodes with Michael in the Bathroom lyrics, BRB. Can’t believe I hadn’t heard that song yet when I made the nmtd musicals fanmix or that would’ve been on it for sure!

Episode 23: Claudio joins me in the bath of emotion

- The official coining of the term “bath of emotion”! A historic NMTD moment.

- Is it me or is Ben acting 100% more drunk in this episode than the last one? I bet he was drinking while uploading the last video. Not healthy to drink alone, bud.

- the video description is adorable. “Computer is in bathroom but not wet. Pedro has lent me his computer but he does not know this has happened.” Drunk Ben is ADORABLE.

- “parties are a gateway to a spiral of doom and awkwardness” sounds about right. That’s rough, buddy.

- Claudio arrives! Ben is so happy to see him!

- Notice here that Claudio is dressed as a cowboy, because he’s been watching Hero’s videos and knows she wanted someone to go as a cowboy! Cute, but also how does he not know Hero likes him if he’s watching the videos? Either he’s just that insecure, or maybe he doesn’t really watch the videos and Ben told him Hero wanted him to go as a cowboy? Idk

- “you silly billy” “I am a little tipsy yes” ADORABLE

- Why is “he’s stating the obvious now isn’t he” the actual flirtiest thing Ben has ever said lol

- There it is, he DOES have a drink with him, he did get drunker between last episode and this episode

- “I don’t know what it is but it’s so good, it makes my tongue go all tingly” Ben. That might mean you’re allergic to it. Don’t ever drink something if you don’t know what it is! (It’s probably just that it’s carbonated, but still.)

- “The camera takes your sadness and makes it go poof” is an important character sentiment for Ben that will come up again. This IS where his attachment to the camera first starts to get unhealthy!

- “Like tears in the rain” listen I love this loser SO MUCH

- I said he was a sad wet cat of a drunk, but Ben is also a very silly drunk. Scolding the camera for making Claudio sad, awww

- “not the camera, the Captain” Pedro is the captain before he’s even himself, no wonder he feels so pressured to be perfect

- “this EXHAUSTIVELY DOWNER PARTY” meanwhile the background music is all cheery and everyone besides Ben and Claudio are dancing and having a grand old time

- Claudio, if you were brave enough to talk to Hero yourself when you have a question for her, you would avoid a lot of heartache.

- “he hasn’t gotten her for you, he’s gotten her from you” you’re not even dating yet and she can make her own choices!

- “the party’s been infected by a sadness bug” this sounds like a Doctor Who plot or something tbh

- “look at his little face!” Ben doing to Claudio what I want to do to Ben, he’s so squishy!

- “that hurts!” “I know it does, buddy, but you will get through it! You’re a brave little soldier!” Lol amazing

- Claudio is angry angsty, while Ben is sad angsty. You can tell Claudio will lash out at others about it while Ben will mostly just lash out at himself and the camera.

- Claudio leaves, Ben promises to tell Hero bye for him, and turns off the camera. Why are these all separate videos he turns the camera off after making? Maybe shorter videos are easier to edit quicker.

- Comments: loving on Tipsy Ben, being sad for Claudio, clocking Claudio’s cowboy costume as being for Hero. One comment saying Claudio doesn’t even seem to like Ben, which makes me sad because Ben is currently worrying that his friends don’t like him.

- Favorite comment: sydneymcgowan with “he looks like a little angel boy aw Ben”

- Indeed that’s my little angel boy and I LOVE HIM and his squishy face <333

💖🥭🦩

[foulbearobservation]

since you’re the camlilith blogTM, do you have camlilith fic recs?

me: oh I don't think I'm the gateway to camilith shipping

y'all: so as The Camilith Blog™...

anyway yes I do have fic recs gather round children, I've delved into the depths of the tag and emerged with the best of the best

let's start with casper's (@daisychainsandbowties) fics and then go from there!

by such slight ligaments are we bound: god like truly this is THEE Camilith fic of all time for me like. you all don't understand. lilith is so fucked up. camila touches her so tenderly. lilith gets her hair washed. she bleeds all over the fucking place. she completely disassociates. she bleeds all over the fucking place some more. she's gods specialest little soldier. she's gods most beloathed nun. she's my little guy.

thus strangely are our souls constructed: listen. listen. this is the rat fic. I hold it close to my heart. I adore it. Lilith's having a breakdown in a sporting goods store. she's bleeding out with beatrice in a hallway. they're in love. they don't realize they're in love. they're also not in love. it's a lot. lilith is a little in love with every woman who shows her any kindness. I can't wait to see where this one goes

a light, a blessing, or a bruise: the dishonored au!!!! dishonored au my beloved! (not a fic but check out whale's dishonored art pieces here & here & here they make me feel insane) this fic actually got me to start playing dishonored and the world is. so interesting. the way casper has translated the characters is FASCINATING. great fic I fucking love it.

okay that's all of casper's fics now let's go to some others shall we?

The bestie @thats-a-weird-warning-sign wrote Tenderness to you is only talk about a bruise which is just. so good. I truly don't know what else I need to say about it. lilith's brain melts out of her ears because of camila's strap. There's healing from trauma. there's more sex. listen. we all read the tags we all knew what we were getting into.

Shroomyystar on ao3 (I think they're @cranechel on here?) has some bangers. most of these are rated M or E, for good reason. they're darker or they're just abt sex so your mileage may vary based on what you want to read but they're all tagged appropriately!

like real people do: lilith asks camila to kill her and it's sweeter than you think, I promise.

light pink sky up on the roof: lilith kneels.

one bite of salvation in the dark: lilith kneels and also eats cami out.

there's also serenity which is a rly cute little fic abt camila just staring at lilith and I think it's very sweet we get this view of them cause I feel like lilith is the more common pov character

some other one offs!

Worship her sooner is my bestie Em who texted me one day like "do you think ao3 has a tag for sexy latin usage" and refused to elaborate.

The whole series of 1 Peter 4:8 is very good. this was before season 2 came out, and I'll just link the first fic here it's SO GOOD. Go comment and show some love to these fics, they're older so I don't think they got the attention they deserved.

golden hour is an avatrice fic HOWEVER it's set at camilith's wedding and the way ava just describes lilith as scary and whipped is truly so funny to me

And that's about all I have I think? I probably forgot something, and I'm very picky with fics to begin with so. If you think I missed something, add it in the comments!

[warriornunsgirlfriend]

avatrice + 11. “The sun isn’t even up yet and you want me to do what?”

Okay this isn't exactly about avatrice but I was excited to share anyway. A sneak peek of a future scene in my Childhood!AU from Lilith's POV! Please enjoy!

“The sun isn’t even up yet and you want me to do what?” 

It was a miracle really that Lilith had managed to even convince Beatrice to meet her here, the lights from the gym muted in their refuge under the bleachers. She’d woken up early and roused a very annoyed Beatrice out of the bed next to hers, begging her to meet her in the gym before classes. 

Now they sit, their knees pressed together in the small space. From here Lilith can see every weakness in Beatrice’s form. The tired lines just underneath her eyes, the way her shoulders tighten, sitting impossibly straight even in this cramped position. Beatrice’s voice is whispered, harsh against the quiet hum of the electricity in the fluorescent lights above them.

“Oh come on, Beatrice. It’s just practice. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

She watches as Beatrice’s eyes widen only minutely and a soft flush appears across the freckles scattered along her cheeks. She looks almost ridiculous, like a deer caught in a headlight and under any other circumstances, Lilith might have teased her for it. 

But right now, anxiety is coiling through her own chest and she tightens her fists at her side to stop her hands from giving away how nervous the request is actually making her feel. 

“But why do we have to practice kissing?” 

Lilith can feel the back of her neck prickle with heat as images of a certain sixth year girl with gorgeous skin and a teasing smile flash across her mind. It’s a fair question but she can’t bring herself to admit the truth, that she’s never kissed anyone. The thought of actually admitting that she’s bad at anything, let alone something so simple, is mortifying. So she just shrugs. 

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, Beatrice. You’ll meet a man, or someone one day, and you’ll be grateful for the chance to practice.” 

The way Beatrice wrinkles her nose at the thought is almost enough to lighten the nervous weight on her own chest and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She doubts very much it will be a man who steals Beatrice’s heart one day but it isn’t Lilith’s place to say so.  Instead she nudges Beatrice’s knee with her own. “Come on, I never ask you for anything. And if you help me with this I swear I’ll owe you. Whatever you want.” 

The nervous knot loosens ever so slightly when Beatrice rolls her eyes and finally gives in with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But you have to stay with me during break next week?” 

Her voice falters at the end, as if she isn’t sure for a moment that Lilith will agree. Which is absurd, really, because it’s such an easy request. She’s no happier at home than Beatrice is. “Deal.” 

“Okay. How-how do we do it?” 

The question takes her off guard and for the first time Lilith’s resolve almost disappears. It had seemed easy before when she was imagining the scenario in her head. Practice with Beatrice had seemed a lot less daunting than asking Lucia straight up for a date. But now Lilith falters, considering Beatrice for a moment before finally huffing out an annoyed breath. 

“I think we just need to go for it.” 

Beatrice nods and then squeezes her eyes shut, her face scrunching up in concentration as she freezes. Lilith only rolls her eyes and leans forward, closing the small distance between them in a fluid motion. “Geez. I’m not going to bite you. Relax.” 

The words are murmured for just an instant before Lilith closes her eyes too and presses her mouth against Beatrice’s, lingering for one brief, chaste moment. 

Beatrice’s lips are chapped and the small touch tickles against her own before Beatrice is pulling away, her eyes flying open. 

“How was that?” Her words are rushed and another bright flush dusts across her face.  It occurs to Lilith that Beatrice must be as nervous as she is. 

She only rolls her eyes to hide the mirth just lying under the surface of her nervousness and shakes her head. “I think you have to stay still for longer than a second for it to really count.” 

The challenge does the trick. It’s enough for Beatrice to frown, her eyebrows drawing forward as she huffs in annoyance. “Fine. Try again, then.” 

Lilith only shakes her head, amusement loosening the nervous coil in her chest completely now. It really is too easy to rile Beatrice up. But underneath the humor a surge of warmth settles against her chest. Beatrice may be uptight, and even a little oblivious sometimes. But she’s a good friend and any anxiety Lilith might have had over the request eases as she leans forward to kiss Beatrice again. ______________________________________________________________

The afternoon sun slants across their two bodies, laid out against Beatrice’s bedroom floor. A song plays idly in the background on Beatrice’s record player, filling the room with soft noise that fades easily into the background around them. 

Lilith turns her head to watch her friend for a moment, the way the light trails down Beatrice’s face, her eyes closed and her lips parted as she breathes out evenly. It’s the most relaxed Lilith has ever seen her and she can’t help but smile at the image. Whatever Ava is doing, it’s obviously doing wonders for Beatrice. Even if she is an annoying shit. 

“What’s it like? Being with Ava?” 

The question is blurted out before she can stop herself. But she finds that she doesn’t quite regret it, even if the back of her neck does warm. She shifts and props herself up on her elbows so she can look at Beatrice, who only opens her eyes and turns her head toward Lilith, pondering the question for a moment. 

“It’s…. wonderful.” Beatrice breathes out the last word in a small exhale, a soft blush creeping along her ears and cheeks. Her lips tilt upward in a soft smile and she grins sheepishly, “I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy.” 

The sight sends a pleasant ache through Lilith’s chest. Even a few months ago it was obvious Beatrice wasn’t happy. Lilith very much doubted Beatrice would have known what happiness looked like even if it slammed right into her. Which Lilith supposed, it sort of had. 

It takes her a moment to place the odd fluttering emotion in her chest. Hope, she realizes with a jolt of surprise. If Beatrice of all people could find happiness, then maybe it wasn’t completely unattainable. Maybe it’s something Lilith can earn too. The image of Camila’s mischievous smile, the soft dimples at the corner of her lips, and the way her curled hair catches the light plays across Lilith’s mind, sending a pleasant swoop through her belly. 

“If I confess something to you, do you swear not to judge?” 

Beatrice’s eyebrows furrow ever so slightly and she shifts too until she’s propped up on one elbow, her head resting against her hand. “Do you have feelings for Ava, as well?” 

Her lips purse against a teasing smile at the question and Lilith barks out a surprised laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t date Ava even if she was the last person on this earth. You can have her. Besides, I have my sights on someone else.” 

Beatrice’s grin widens, a genuine smile with a flash of teeth. She nudges Lilith’s leg with her foot. “Are you going to tell me who it is?” 

It’s new, this sudden vulnerability and understanding between the two of them and Lilith clings to the warmth it brings even as she falters for a moment, anxiety tightening around her chest as she answers. “It’s Camila…” 

Beatrice’s eyes widen in surprise and Lilith is ready, an apology right on the tip of her tongue. She can feel the flush on her face as she opens her mouth to explain, to take it back maybe. But Beatrice only grins again, her eyes bright with delight. “That’s wonderful!”

“Really? You’re not mad?” Lilith had honestly expected more pushback. Considering that just a few weeks ago they weren’t even talking, she hadn’t expected Beatrice to be so supportive. She studies Beatrice’s face for any sign of hidden frustration, or annoyance, but she doesn’t find any. Beatrice’s smile is still relaxed, her eyes squinting against the sunlight streaming through the blinds covering the window. But her expression is sincere, open, and Lilith finds herself relaxing as Beatrice answers, 

“Why would I be? I think it’s great, truly.”

“I don’t know.” Lilith shrugs, her attention moving to the carpet underneath them. She tugs at a loose strand, wrapping it around her finger as she answers, “She’s your little. I know you feel responsible for her.” 

The memory of their argument is still raw between them, the lingering words heavy against Lilith’s chest. She can’t quite bring herself to meet Beatrice’s gaze. Silence settles over them, awkward and stifling for several long moments. 

“I’m sorry, Lilith. What I said before, it wasn’t fair—“ 

Lilith rolls her eyes to hide the uncomfortable prickle of nervous tears welling in her eyes. “You’ve already apologized. You don’t have to—“

“Let me finish.” Beatrice raises her hand and Lilith falls silent, swallowing against the stupid lump in her throat. 

“It wasn’t fair and I want you to know, I don’t really think you’re…what was it I said?” 

“Heartless.” Lilith almost whispers the words, her heart clenching painfully against them, a juxtaposition to the accusation. Beatrice was right, she hadn’t been fair to say it. But Lilith couldn’t deny there was truth in the perception she gave off to people. Her mother was heartless. Her grandmother even more so, and if Lilith was honest her biggest fear is that she would end up mean and bitter, just like them. Beatrice’s words, said in a righteous fury of the moment, had pierced Lilith’s weakest point. 

“I don’t think you’re heartless. And I think Camila would be really lucky.” Beatrice’s hand wraps around her own and it takes every ounce of willpower Lilith has to stop the sob threatening to choke out of her. She finally looks up, her eyes stinging with tears only to find Beatrice’s own tears reflected back at her. Despite her best efforts, her vision blurs and she feels a single wet drop escape down her cheek. She laughs, watery and weak, and Beatrice does too. 

Maybe this is what happiness really looks like. Or at least something similar. The warm sun heating her skin in the afternoon, shared tears and laughter between friends. She can feel all the cracks within her, frayed and ragged. It doesn’t heal, not even close. But Lilith thinks, here with Beatrice’s tear-filled laughter mixing with her own, maybe for now this is enough.  The promise of a new beginning. For both of them. 

[ggren-mainz]

Umineko - question arcs playthrough -> ep 1 - 9

last part - All parts and episodes - next part

A while ago i saw something super weird. So basically it was just a fanart of Sayo, literally normal think the only weird part was that she had longer hair? Anyway and it was tagged as umineko spoiler and i keep thinking, what was it??? Like obviously i don't wanna know but still. I reblogged it so maybe one day I'll get it, but it is true that i also didn't look close so maybe there was something i missed.

1- hell yeah you're so right kanon, at least some believers still exist. 2- as i said, i think she wanted to take Natsuhi first but because of the charm, Sayo was chosen. Sad.

I am so smart.

Battler then proceeds to say that he listened to the entire convo and asks (quite brutally) for answers, to which the servants say she exists, she doesn't have a physical form, and that he should stop profane her name.

Ah i get it....so they're the ones doing the hate sex.

Maria proceeds to belittle Battler and tell him to believe, while she and the servants all look in one place, as if they're seeing Beatrice. Battler laughs in their faces and says how he'll only believe when he'll see, thing which i severely doubt, as from my knowledge even after he sees her he still doesn't believe lmao. Battler the nonbeliever.

i mean yeah but like NONBELIVERS!! BEATRICE, GET THEIR ASS!!!

Battler the insensitive strikes again.

no way, cause as we have noticed this is the beginning of his epitaph. so like don't threaten me with a good time type of thing.

She'll say that Natsuhi lied about meeting up with Kinzo, or that she kidnapped him, won't she?

Ok i did not expect the receipt. But ok this is...interesting. How did he get out? is he out? Where is he? Is this the work of witches? That's the only thing that makes sense.

Those are some bold words thrown towards the person with the rifle. And i'd argue we can say she's innocent simply because Eva isn't dead lmao.

Nah she fr for this one, I'd also start shooting. Like there's a limit alright. Some bitches deserve to be put back in their place sometimes (despite my comments i actually think Eva is quite interesting, and definitely entertaining which id argue is the most important thing a fictional character should be).

While i do know she's wrong, from her pov she's absolutely right, like shes fr as well. But on an unrelated note, why tf are their boobs highlighted like that??? like why is there a line between them?? jesus i hate these artists sometimes.

Wait but like. Eva you're the one who put the recipe there and also the one who confirmed it being there? when is someone gonna point that out huh??

Bro thinks he's the shit huh. Let him speak ig.

shitty ass argument tbh. Like yeah from our pov it makes some sense, since we know Kinzo would want to cause more ruckus but from theirs, and even his tbh, this is a very shitty argument. ig it just puts into vision this fact we knew all along. That we can't be sure of anything at the moment. We aren't sure that he wasn't in the room, we aren't sure that Beatrice exists, we aren't sure if there is or isn't a 19th person etc etc.

But yeah that was basically their conclusion too, so good job. After that Jessica has an asthma attack and damn if that will not be used as something to kill her later. It's just too convenient.

THEY SAID THE NAME WEEEWOOOWEEEWOOO. And also didn't we establish before that it won't be all resolved? That's not what the epitaph says...

next part

[library-ghoulette]

My Path Serpentine (Ministry librarian series) - Chapter 2/?

Chapter 1

Pairing: Copia (Papa Emeritus IV) x Original Female Character

Rating: This chapter is gen, later chapters will be mature to explicit

Tags: Third person POV, original female character, slowburn, workplace romance, Satanic nuns, HR paperwork, first-day jitters, loving descriptions of library interior design, the other shoe dropping

Words: 1967

Summary: Sister Beatrice discovers that getting what you wished for sometimes comes with unexpected strings attached.

A/N: Just because Sister Beatrice is my favorite OC doesn't mean that I'm not going to cause problems for her for the sake of the plot. Also, if you're wondering where Copia is, we get to hear from him in the next chapter. :)

ao3 link

Summer - Ministry Headquarters

Sister Beatrice sets down her pen and flexes her hand, working the kinks out of her achy wrist. As she looks down at the stack of completed paperwork on the desk before her, a small inner voice asks her, What if this is a mistake?

That small voice has a terrible sense of timing. It could have chosen to speak up at any of the plentiful opportunities that had presented themselves over the past few months.

Like when she woke up that morning after her meeting with Father Kirk to find the job announcement letter lying beside her in bed—because she had fallen asleep reading it, and dreamed of an office door with her name on a little plaque and of Sister Imperator naming her Employee of the Month for her thoughtfully-detailed LibGuides—and, seeing it, decided with an unwavering finality what she would do.

Or it could have said something during the lengthy, old-fashioned, and frankly byzantine application process, which involved having to request a printed application because they were not available online and waiting for it to arrive in the mail before she could even get started.

That voice could have spoken up before the initial phone interview, when Beatrice had been so startled to actually hear Sister Imperator's voice on the other end of the line that she had nearly dropped her phone. Or during either of the two other, more in-depth interviews—mercifully conducted remotely, since she did not have the money to travel—when Beatrice had been grilled about her professional qualifications, her religious service, and her vision for the library.

But no. Through it all, the voice piloting Beatrice had been that earlier one, the ambitious one that had awoken in Father Kirk's office. That voice was the one who whispered reassuringly, every time Sister Grace questioned or criticized her, that it was okay, because she wouldn't even be here that much longer. That the old bitch could torture her all she wanted, for Beatrice was destined for greater things and soon would be delivered to the doorstep of fate.

She had told no one about her application—except for Father Kirk, of course, who had written her a glowing reference letter—and the secret had kindled within her, a strengthening ember of warmth, as the winter days thawed into spring.

Until, on a perfectly petal-pink morning in April, she opened her mailbox and found inside it a thick envelope bearing the return address of Ministry headquarters.

[MESSAGE FROM THE CLERGY]

We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the position of Head Librarian…

But now, sitting in Sister Imperator's office alone on her first day of work, it all feels so… real. Up until this point, being the Ministry's librarian was theoretical, with the delicious quality of an especially good daydream. Something that she could delight in as long as she wanted and then set aside whenever she wished.

But now?

Now…

Now she has no time to spiral, because the office door opens and Sister Imperator strides back in. "Finished?" she asks, indicating the paperwork, and when Beatrice nods, "Very good. Here's your staff ID." Beatrice regards the staff photo she'd had to pose for earlier that morning, right after arriving at the Minsitry, with a pang of quiet mortification. It looks like a mugshot. "Your badge will be ready by the end of the week, but for now, here's a temporary one that should get you into most of the areas you need to go. Now, ready for your tour?"

Sister Imperator doesn't give her time to answer, and Beatrice rushes to keep up with the older woman. She watches Sister Imperator's red-soled heels clicking away up the hall and feels impossibly frumpy in her flats. Her forehead is damp with sweat, and she's afraid that her bangs are doing something ridiculous, and she deeply regrets wearing her veil, which Sister Imperator informed her—in a tone that might have been intended as helpful but came somewhat closer to withering—most of the Sisters of Sin only wore on "special occasions" here.

The Ministry is so different from the Unholy Church of the Infernal Heart, from the little parish that now seems embarrassingly provincial to Beatrice, who now wonders how embarrassingly provincial she must look, as well. She can't help but compare herself to the impeccably put-together Sister Imperator, and to the other Sisters they pass in the halls, who cast inquisitive and judgmental glances at her, the newcomer, so obviously out of place.

"—in okay?"

Fuck. Sister Imperator looks back at her, and Beatrice realizes that she has no idea what she's just been asked. "I'm sorry?"

"Have you settled in okay? To your apartment?"

"Oh! Yes, I have, thanks. I was able to arrive a week early to make sure that everything was okay."

Sister Imperator nods. "Smart. I know you were disappointed that we don't have a room for you, but I've added you to the waitlist. Hopefully something opens up soon, but we've seen a big increase in new novitiates, so…"

Meaning that the dorms are full, and she's dead last on the list. It had, indeed, been a disappointment to learn that her dreams of living in the big, old Abbey weren't to come true, thanks to the previous librarian owning a home in town and not needing the accommodations that came with the position. And since he had held that position for decades, those accommodations had long since been turned over for other use.

In the wake of this news, Beatrice had scrambled to find somewhere to live in time for her move. Luckily she had been able to rent an apartment, a little attic walk-up in an old house, nestled in a historic district of town that wasn't far from the Abbey. She had sold her car to partially fund her move, but thanks to the bicycle she found at a yard sale during her settling-in week, the distance is more than manageable.

Beatrice is nothing if not skilled in making things manageable.

Chastened after being caught with her mind wandering, Beatrice tries to focus only on Sister Imperator's whirlwind tour of the Abbey. It seems to Beatrice a maze of stained glass windows, with a dizzying array of warrenlike "new" additions that span the centuries-long life of the building. Originally constructed in the 12th Century, it hasn't remained static, from basic renovations like plumbing and electricity to new wings and other buildings that dot the sprawling campus.

The library is one such addition. Beatrice knows from her nights of anticipatory research that the original—back when the Abbey was run by Christian monks, before one of them saw the black light of Satan, named himself Papa Infernalis I and converted his fellows by reason and, when reason failed, by bloodshed—was a tiny room, barely bigger than a closet. But as the Ministry grew, so too did its need for a repository of its knowledge, and a proper library had been built during the 18th Century.

And it is the library, finally, that Sister Imperator is leading her to now. At the end of a hall lined with stained glass in a rainbow of hues, they reach a set of double doors, and Sister Imperator turns to her. She holds out a keyring, not unlike what you would see in an old hotel.

"Would you like to do the honors?" she asks.

Sister Beatrice's heart hammers in her chest as she takes the offered keyring. They feel like so much more than just keys; they feel like holding her entire future in the palm of her hand. The lock sticks just a bit, but she quickly, intuitively, finds the right angle and pressure, and the door opens for her with a creak.

"You'll need to call maintenance to have those hinges oiled," Sister Imperator says.

The space within is dark except for sunbeams shining in from the tall, skinny windows, catching motes of dust that dance in the circulating air. Beatrice hears Sister Imperator mutter, "The light switch is around here somewhere," and then the lights flicker to sudden life, and the library is revealed to Beatrice in all its glory.

She is accustomed to practicality, which is to say, she is used to settling. If you asked her whether she believed in love at first sight, she would give a rueful little laugh and say no, that's not how the world works.

But from the moment her eyes fall upon the expanse of mahogany and leather and marble and vellum laid out before her, and she realizes that it is hers, she feels a love deeper than any she had previously known possible.

The library contains two levels, with a loft accessible by steep, ladder-like staircases overlooking the main floor. There are shelves of books to the left as she enters, and a lifesize, white marble statue of Eve receiving the gift of knowledge from the Serpent; on the right stands a circulation desk. She can glimpse an office behind the circulation area—her office—as she walks down the central aisle. There are cozy chairs and low tables for reading in comfort, and, through an arched doorway, a study room with long tables studded with green-shaded lamps. A bank of computer carrels. Even more shelves line the walls, full of books bound variously in paper and cloth and leather. When she cranes her head back to look at the ceiling, she is met with a fresco depicting demons routing the angels from heaven, presided over by Lucifer, triumphant.

It's absolutely perfect. Except—

"What are the library hours?" she asks. "I wasn't expecting it to be closed during the week?"

"Oh, well…" Sister Imperator runs her finger across the surface of a table, drawing a line in the dust there. "About that."

Beatrice's stomach tightens into knots as Sister Imperator lays out the situation: "There was some, ah, tension, after your predecessor retired. An internal candidate—the person who had taken over in the interim—was displeased with my decision to hire from outside."

Great, so there's already one person here who hates my guts, Beatrice thinks. Out loud, she asks, "How did they, um, cope with that decision?"

Sister Imperator lets out a bitter little laugh. "She quit!"

"And the rest of the staff?"

"There was another part-time worker who also quit—called away from the order, I'm afraid. The rest were work-study siblings who are not equipped to run the library on their own, and were reassigned to other departments. So the decision was made to close until a replacement was hired, with the goal of reopening no later than the end of the summer."

"…oh. So I— I'm the only staff?"

"For now!" Sister Imperator's tone is far more chipper than Beatrice can fathom. "But you'll get to start fresh when you hire more!"

Start fresh. This was not what Beatrice had envisioned for herself when she thought about starting fresh. She sinks into a chair, knees suddenly shaky, hoping that Sister Imperator can't tell just how seriously she is considering the practicalities of running away back home.

Whether it's good or bad, she's unsure, but Sister Imperator seems oblivious to her rising panic. "I was very impressed with your application, Sister Beatrice. I trust that you won't let me down."

Maybe they were supposed to be words of comfort. But later, after countless awkward introductions and an interminable onboarding video and lunch in the dining hall are done, and she is left alone at the end of the day with only her employee handbook, her fears, and the library she begged to run, Beatrice can't help but think that they sounded more like a threat.

[productofaritual]

Guess who's gonna yell about eh!Ranboo again THAT'S RIGHT IT'S ME

I wanted to send this as an ask to a moot but I sent it like a week ago and they haven't replied so I'm JUST YELLING HERE

Today on "Lar's thoughts about event horizon part three billion": Holy fuck does eh!Ranboo underestimate tf out of eh!Tubbo

(Rambling rambling rambling, the rest is under cut)

Well it's not just Tubbo, it's also Ozzi, but they're batshit fucking insane and if you can predict what they'll do you should get a diploma or some shit. We love them for it tho <3

Anyway BACK TO TUBBO.

Before we get to the why, let's make sure we all get the what.

Ranboo, the idiot /aff, assumes that Tubbo just. Does not know about the majority of his mental issues. And while he's not entirely wrong, he is still WRONG. Dude, that is the person who managed to 'read' you the fastest out of anyone. That is the person who actually looks at you because he cares. You're supposed to be good at knowing people, and yet. AND YET HE DOESN'T MAKE THE CONNECTION THAT TUBBO WOULD KNOW ANYTHING. But we know he does and Ranboo should know it too, because while reminiscing about the things that happened in Ad Astra he SPECIFICALLY POINTS OUT that it scared him how observant Tubbo was! And like?? Do you think he's gonna stop because you're friends now?

Now that we have the what. The why.

Obviously I don't know for sure, I didn't write the thing, but I HAVE THEORIES. And no, 'it's a plot hole' or 'suspension of disbelief' won't cut it, Matpat taught me better than that.

It's actually based on something my friend pointed out while reading, and that is the fact that Ranboo actually idealizes Tubbo. Because if you look at how Tubbo is described from his own POV versus from Ranboo's, you'll find that the difference is more than just being described by someone else. From Ranboo's POV, Tubbo can literally do no wrong. He is near perfect, even though we know he clearly fucking isn't. But to Ranboo he's basically the equivalent of Beatrice from the Divine Comedy (iykyk). But then what that leads to is Ranboo having this idealized version of Tubbo that he bases his assumptions on rather than the real one, similarly to the spectre, except he doesn't seem to be able to realize he's still wrong about the real Tubbo. And that's what trips him up, because for Ranboo, the ideal scenario is one where Tubbo doesn't find out anything. He literally says it in the goddamn book, he admits that he wasn't ever going to tell Tubbo anything, that he didn't want him to know. But the real Tubbo is one hell of a lot more observant.

And his idealized version gets absolutely fucking SHATTERED when Tubbo admits he knows something, when Tubbo lashes out or doesn't act the way Ranboo expects him to and Ranboo doesn't know how to handle that. And AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH yeah that's pretty much it I dunno I've read this fic way too many times can u tell

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen

by dearthisbe (EleanorRigby66) ACD and Henry Fox enemies?   Henry is not even sure how the Hell they got here. He is in the studio, with Pez and his sister, they are working on some of his songs when Pez came back from their coffee break with a magazine, in one of the pages a picture of him and Alex frowning at each other. “This is rather inconvenient, isn’t it?” Pez comments sipping their cup. Or, Henry is a singer with very bad luck in love and Alex is an actor with very little patience for nepo babies. the that's me (espresso) prequel that no one asked for. Words: 6351, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Singer Henry and Actor Alex universe Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Beatrice Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, David the Beagle (Red White & Royal Blue), Original Characters Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor In Love, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Has a Crush on Alex Claremont-Diaz, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Singer Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Actor Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Gay Disaster Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, pinning, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Enemies to Lovers, more or less, Idiots in Love, Explicit Sexual Content, Body Worship, Anal Sex, Light Angst, just at the beginning via https://ift.tt/OjiUlxz