jaw-dropping-hippogriff - Tumblr blog

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It's really annoying when writers make a lesbian character and don't realise it and give her a romantic plot with a man

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Beatrice: notices some Random guy is looking at the wrong direction at the bus station and immediately realizes they are being followed.

But when Ava is practically undressing her with her eyes at the bar giving full on eye sex and Beatrice is like: I cant see I am blind bliiiind bliiind bliiiind .

Like yes go ahead follow miguel I'll meet you at home where I'll sulk because you are into him and not me.

AFTER THIS LOOK !?

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insp

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Hello world! I'm 17 minutes old❤️

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i think we as a society need to start accepting that fictional love stories need to be a bit toxic for us to go insane over them… like, sometimes you kinda need the two parties to be obsessed with each other and fucked up and willing to bring each other back from the dead instead of moving on and go to therapy i’m sorry😔

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Beatrice’s restraint is sharp yet precarious, like a blade balanced on its point.

“Are you attempting to influence my decision?” Beatrice asks, after a long beat, when she is again capable of asking.

Ava tilts her head. “If you were so easily influenced, there are a great number of things I would’ve done many years ago to convince you,” she asserts. “But you’re so devastatingly principled.”

It does, in this moment, feel devastating.

favourable conditions ch4 by @sunsafewriting

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favourable conditions - chapter 4 (3.9k)

chapter excerpt:

Beatrice doesn’t sleep that night, but still, there are routines that can’t be broken. 

She slips out of bed, dresses, and runs.

She runs too far and too fast to pretend it’s only exercise for the sake of conditioning. She runs until she can’t breathe, until the muscles in her left side cinch tight and burn, and still, she runs. 

This time, she changes her route and heads for the beach, keeping the Governor’s manor safely out of view. 

It doesn’t matter if Ava is awake. It doesn’t matter if there’s a light on. A candle isn’t a signal, only a flicker in the dark. 

Beatrice knows that; she knows better .

And yet. 

There is still the impulse to find Ava and demand something of her, to tug her close by both her hands, to hold her the way she has always held Beatrice, even without touching. 

But there would be no use in any of it.  

This was always going to happen. 

(Beatrice remembers the first parade of suitors, when they were eighteen — remembers hearing about it second-hand from one of the other officers, and then sparring with Lilith until even Lilith’s usually inexhaustible fury was wrung out, and only Beatrice stood to go again. 

“What has got into you?” Lilith demanded, with something almost like approval. Lilith, the only person to ever like Beatrice more after Beatrice split her lip. 

And later, at the manor — Ava carrying on as she always had, barely waiting for Beatrice to take up her post in the foyer before abandoning her latest art project in favour of other pursuits. “I was informed by one of the guards that you speak Dahulean fluently.”

“Yes, Miss Silva.” 

“I have been teaching myself. Perhaps you might permit me to practise with you?” 

And then, in a lapse of restraint, unexpected and unstoppable, perhaps among the first things she ever said to Ava that she desperately desired to take back: “Wasn’t one of the young men here today from the Dahulea Isles? Surely he would’ve been the better candidate for this revision.” 

Ava fixed Beatrice with a delighted smile. “Are you keeping track of my suitors, Officer?” she asked, twirling her paintbrush to tap Beatrice’s chest with the wooden end, and smearing a streak of blue over her own wrist.

“No, Miss Silva. One merely hears things.” 

Untrue, and Ava might’ve known it, as she seemed to easily know all of Beatrice's secrets. 

“Regrettably, as I had to inform my uncle, they were each exceedingly ill-fitting as matches, although many of them were quite lovely.” 

“Your uncle heeds you on this matter?” 

Something passed across Ava’s face, then — not anger, exactly, but not unlike it. “For now,” she said. And then the unease was gone, replaced by the kind of amusement that Beatrice feared and longed for in equal measure, that was invariably the prelude to head-swimming dizziness. “Have you forgotten my request?”

“No, Miss Silva. I will practise with you.” 

It had not taken especially long for Beatrice to realise that the verbs Ava kept mixing up were very particular verbs with very particular meanings that did not, in fact, sound alike at all. Beatrice gently corrected her as often as she could, flushed and stammering herself, but Ava proved to have an inexhaustible number of mistakes ready to be made.)

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i love going back to the beginning of a piece of media with the full weight of knowing how it ends. you see characters get introduced and it’s literally like

[id: the ‘they don’t know’ meme edited to say ‘they don’t know the profound and life-changing effect they will have on each other’. it shows a simple drawing of a guy with a party hat standing in the corner of a room, looking at two couples who are happy and dancing. the guy is edited to have shiny, tearful eyes. end id.]

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the peak sibling energy of "get bibled, gayboy"

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collage of female characters that people have used to “prove” that there are too many masc women in media

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the trouble is you never know which show is going to take over your life do you. you could just be innocently watching a show with no intention of being part of the fandom when suddenly boom you’re crying over fanmixes at 1am

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Incorrect Avatrice Quotes (2/?)

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Do A Flip - chapter 7 (11.2k words)

chapter excerpt:

Shannon.

She’s always been a light sleeper, prone to waking up a few times a night, and the effect is magnified when she’s somewhere different. 

Tonight, different is their backyard: Diego has been desperate to go camping, and sleeping out under the stars behind Shannon and Mary’s house is their trial attempt at the whole experience. 

Beside her, Mary is still out, eyes closed. She tends to frown in her sleep, which Shannon finds charming; or perhaps what she finds charming is the way the frown clears when Mary wakes up, how she sees Shannon and her expression changes, first thing. 

Shannon slips out of their makeshift bed and stands, stretching her arm, working through a couple of nerve glides. Sometimes, when the weather changes too much too quickly, her old shoulder injury still twinges. It’s not too bad, anymore, but it’s better to get ahead of these things. 

From here, she can see the banked remains of the small fire they’d had in the pit, and the arrangement of the others, strewn out across the lawn. 

Diego, Ava, and Beatrice are lined up on a collection of mats. Ava has curled around Beatrice, and the way the two of them are pressed close makes Shannon sure they’ve slept like this before, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Together, Ava and Beatrice have made an art out of avoiding change, or rather, of changing everything except that last little thing that makes it impossible to go back. 

Diego’s head pops up from his nest of blankets. In the moonlight, Shannon can see him blink, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. He catches sight of her and squirms free, scooping up his water bottle from the ground nearby before weaving his way over to her. 

He’s wearing a hoodie that he inherited from Ava recently — it features a graphic of a turtle in a judge’s wig, with the word TORTLE printed below. Shannon’s not sure he actually gets it, but he wears it all the time now anyway. 

"You’re awake, too," he says — softly, so he won’t wake everyone else.

"Yep. Thought I'd check out the stars for a bit."

They sit down together in two of the chairs by the firepit and tip their heads up to look at the sky. 

"How are you liking camping so far?" Shannon asks. 

"It’s cool," he whispers back. "Definitely marshmallows are the best part." 

Only Shannon, Ava, and Diego eat marshmallows — Beatrice is bothered by the texture and Mary finds them too sweet — but between the three of them, they’d managed to finish off a whole packet. Shannon had about three marshmallows total, so most of the credit has to be split between Ava and Diego’s industrious efforts. 

"Marshmallows are the best part," Shannon confirms. 

Diego’s attention drifts back to the stars for a moment, and then over to their campsite: the inflatable mattresses and the sleeping bags and the heaps of pillows — almost every single pillow from their house.

His expression shifts, and she can’t quite read him anymore.

"Everything okay?" 

At Diego’s age, if asked anything about how she was feeling, Beatrice had a variety of responses. She’d inform Shannon, stony-faced, that she was fine, that it didn’t matter, or just change the topic completely. Occasionally, when she did open up, it was almost always accompanied by a preface: this is ridiculous, but —

It’s a habit that stuck through her adolescence, a sense that emotions could only be discussed after having gained distance from them, after positioning them as inconsequential or unimportant. 

Shannon doesn’t really hear Beatrice talk like that anymore. Maybe it’s growing up and growing into herself, and being away from her parents. Maybe it’s Ava’s influence, and how she wants to put every one of Beatrice’s feelings under light and examine it and take it seriously. Or maybe it was a conscious choice, out of fear that Diego might pick it up, might start to speak and think in the same way. 

"Yeah," Diego says. "It’s just nice, isn’t it? It’s really nice."

"It is," Shannon replies. 

There’s a beat, and then Diego admits, "I wanted to try it because of what you said. You said that camping trips were your favourite thing when you were a kid."

Actually, what Shannon said was that family camping trips were her favourite, but this omission, it seems, has been made deliberately: Diego is watching her very carefully, now, his fingers tugging at his hoodie sleeve. 

"Is this like the ones you remember?" he asks. 

"Well, my brother used to snore like a tractor," Shannon answers, and Diego’s nose crinkles in amusement. "But other than that, they were exactly like this." 

Diego nods, satisfied, and the two of them sit there a little longer, until Diego yawns, and then he’s off again, saying goodnight to Shannon before disappearing back into his nest, wriggling a bit closer to Ava before going still.

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the women in my bluetooth headphones sounds mad at me :(