#Beatrice goes wild

[fxirytxlcfxtc]

Tag Dump - 9/9

[jtl07]

Prompt: Hickey 💋

anon you’re brilliant with these prompts lol - for this one, let’s go with some kind of modern cafe au 

“Are you mad at Beatrice or something?” 

Ava jumps at the voice behind her, would’ve whacked Hans in the face had it not been for his expertly timed dodge. “What? No - of course not -” 

Hans cuts off her fluster with a raised eyebrow. “Then why have you been glaring at her all morning?” 

“I’m not glaring,” Ava mutters as she goes back to cleaning the already clean counter with her damp towel.

The ‘her’ in question is seated at the table she usually takes by the window, book in hand like always on the weekends. Unlike the weekdays, Beatrice lets herself linger, lets herself loosen: hair pulled back in a bun but not as tight, evidenced by the handful of strands she reaches up to tuck behind her ear every few minutes. The ends of her hair brush the side of her neck where the subject of Ava’s not-glaring sits, red and prominent.  

It had been a surprise to notice the mark when Beatrice had stepped up to the counter to ask for her usual weekend order (a lavender London Fog that Ava had convinced her to try several weeks ago because you deserve to treat yourself, Bea and, to Ava’s giddy delight, Beatrice hasn’t strayed from it since) but it’s not that Ava wasn’t happy for Beatrice, she was! Very happy for her! And proud of her for owning it, not hiding it, not hiding herself. 

Still. 

“I’m sorry to bother,” and Ava jumps a second time, Hans dodging her flying limbs yet again, and turns to find Beatrice at the counter with her beautiful, marred neck. It’s a good neck, Ava thinks; wonders how whoever left the mark had been able to restrain themselves to leaving only one. 

“It’s no bother at all,” Hans answers and Ava realizes she’d completely missed Beatrice’s request. Hans hands Beatrice a glass of water, then - to Ava’s utter horror - gestures towards Beatrice’s neck. “Wild night?” he asks grinning as he casts a not-so-subtle glance at Ava, who very barely keeps from kicking him.

Beatrice blinks, her hand rising up to the side of her neck. “Oh, this?” She laughs, wry, and screw kicking Hans in the shins, Ava’s going to strangle him because the last thing she wants is to hear this, to hear about someone else’s hands on Beatrice, someone else’s mouth - 

“We were training gi chokes at BJJ yesterday,” Beatrice explains, her eyes flitting from Hans to Ava. “My partner needed a bit of extra practice.” 

Ava blinks. “So it’s a gi hickey?” she blurts out before she realizes her mouth has opened. 

A laugh surprises its way past Beatrice’s lips. “I suppose,” she says. Frowns. “It’s not … inappropriate is it? I’m afraid I don’t have much, well, any experience with hickeys in general -” 

“No, it’s great,” Ava says, stepping closer to reassure - only to bump into the edge of the counter. “It looks good on you. You should get more.” Winces, at her words words and the sore spot at her ribs. 

Beatrice blushes, but to Ava’s surprise, she doesn’t back down. Doesn't look away - instead, eyes her ever closer. “Is -” Ava watches a flash of pink licks across Beatrice's bottom lip “- Are you offering?”

Ava’s jaw goes slack and her mind goes blank for who knows how long - she recovers only by the sound of Hans’ snort behind her (she throws the damp towel on the counter behind her without looking and hears the satisfying slap and muffled gasp when it lands on Hans’ face). “I mean, I’d take you out to dinner first.” 

Beatrice nods fervently, somehow even redder than before. The blush climbs up her neck, the mark there blending in, as if washed away.

Ava grins. She’ll give her a real one soon enough. 

[birgittesilverbae]

Prompt: just a highly tattooed Beatrice. Anything. Maybe she’s in a band, maybe it goes to her teenage rebellion, maybe it’s your dads au and Bea always wears sleeves and one day Ava finally sees her ink… idk. Anything with tattooed Bea.

thanks for the prompt!

//

Beatrice hasn't worn short sleeves in the time Ava has been back. 

True, it's closing in on winter, but Malaga in November is barely any cooler than Brienz had been in June, and back then Beatrice had taken every possible opportunity to go sun's out, guns out.

Ava watches, curious, for some sort of sign, some clue to what Beatrice is keeping under wraps. She's been back for a week, almost, and they've kissed in quiet corners and in the back of the chapel, and once, in a fit of daring, in the confessional, Ava in Beatrice's lap admitting to myriad sins ("the Bloody Marys sold well, I just hated making them" and "I bought us new towels because I used ours to try and smother a stovetop fire" and "I spent half our time in Switzerland trying not to touch myself to the thought of you"). 

But they haven't gone any further than furtive makeouts and some over-the-clothes heavy petting – which, she has to remind herself, would be a mind-blowing development for June Ava. And Beatrice hasn't even rolled up her sleeves, which… The thought of Beatrice's forearms had constituted, like, a solid 64% of Ava's will to live while on the other side, but it's fine. She's fine. She can be very cool, very normal and definitely would absolutely not suffer if she never got to see Beatrice's forearms again.

She'd be totally fine. 

It's on day seven post-return that Beatrice slips up. She's been waist-deep in a van's engine compartment in between shouting matches with Mary across the garage, and stray curls of hair are slicked to her forehead with sweat. She rubs at her face and then frowns, unbuttons the placket at her wrist and starts to roll up her right sleeve. Ava feels like a Victorian gentleman about to pass out over the mere sight of a sliver of skin. She doesn't mean to, but she takes a step forward over the threshold of the garage, drawn towards the revelation of Beatrice's bare skin like a moth towards a flame.

There's a faint blue glow that grows brighter as Ava approaches, and Beatrice's head snaps up. She fumbles with her sleeve for a moment, an adorable crease between her eyebrows, but the cuff is caught on the knob of her elbow. She settles for linking her hands behind her back instead.

"Ava!" She chirps far too brightly for someone Ava had heard calling Mary a 'piece of fucking work' not two minutes past.

Ava takes another step closer. "Beatrice," she replies, soft. She'd raise a hand, but this already feels far too much like approaching a wild animal. 

Apt enough, though, as Beatrice's eyes very noticeably flick towards the exit. "Show me," she says, just as gently.

Beatrice's shoulders droop. "You would have found out sooner or later," she concedes. "It was only a delay of the inevitable in the hopes I would be better prepared to discuss it by the time the conversation arose."

She swings her arms forward, left hand finding the pocket of her coveralls, right coming out in front of her until her forearm is on display for Ava. 

It's a starburst shining divinium blue, a double handful of lines broken by tick marks emanating from a central black point. Ava can't help herself, doesn't want to stop herself from reaching out and dragging a fingertip down one of the lines. Beatrice's skin is warm beneath Ava's touch and the divinium sparks bright in response to the Halo's nearness.

"What is it?"

Beatrice clears her throat. "Pulsars are spinning neutron stars that blink on and off like lighthouses. When the Pioneer 10 and 11 spacecraft were launched, they were sent bearing a plaque with this map on it – a map of the position of known pulsars relative to our sun. A map of lighthouses, guiding the observer here." She taps the central dot. "That's here, that's home, that's us," she says, in that slightly removed tone Ava associates with the oh-so-common occurrence of a 'Quotes with Beatrice' event. "On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives." Beatrice inhales shakily. "It was stupid, really, but I thought maybe it would help guide you back to us. Back to me. Back home."   

[itshype]

Please don’t pet me! I am working! (DC x DP)

The Service Animal Cujo notfic that I, personally requested but just like my extremely cringe Batman x Witcher fic, I have to do everything myself. I wrote this but held off during DC x DP week because I’m not participating in that. If I keep writing these, I’ll have to make a masterpost or probably whack them up on Ao3 for archive purposes at some point but for now: Here is the Space Obsessed Danny story and Here is the Kingmaker Danny story! CW for mention of panic attacks in this one!

So! Let’s get going. Danny died. He can’t stop thinking it. He was dead. He’s walking and talking now but he knows deep in his soul that everything’s different now. He was dead and somehow nothing has changed? He feels like something of his journey to hell itself should be visible in his skin – something more than the small exit scar on his left foot. Another dimension was opened through his body and his hairstyle didn’t even shift?

Sam and Tucker are just as freaked out as he is, but they aren’t nearly as frightened. The ghost powers and Halfa stigma won’t come until later, but right now Danny is having difficulty even considering the possibility of leaving the house. With Danny in such bad condition emotionally, there’s no way to cover up what happened, and Jazz takes them all to the hospital.

Now, I know in a lot of fanfics Danny has weird physiology even in human form (lower body temp, slower pulse etc) but I don’t remember any of that being canon so I’m ignoring it. And if it is canon then I am exercising my right to debone the original show like a small chicken and use it to make a flavourful stock.

So, Danny checks out with the doctors except for a weirdly tiny burn but he is having like 5 concurrent panic attacks about everything from “there’s nothing after we die”, “The electricity cooked me”, “Life has no meaning”, maybe even throw in a fun “I came back wrong”.

Hell, maybe he does have weirdly low vitals, but the rapid pulse is countering his slow heartbeat and decreased blood pressure etc. Up to you!

Danny probably ends up being sedated if he can’t calm down but by then there is a different issue. The doctors Fenton have arrived. Now, I think it’s no stretch of the imagination to say that under the wrong circumstances they would dissect Phantom if they got their hands on him but also I know they somewhat care for their children and canon has shown more than once that under good circumstances that they could accept Danny.

When his ghost sense goes off for the first time it’s pretty obvious. He’s in a hospital and instead of a tiny little whisp of silver breath; it’s like a fogbank creeping along a moor, its sea mist rolling in from the horizon of his mouth and whiting out his private hospital room. No one can see two meters in front of their own face, and it takes over a minute to fade. Sam screams out for Danny and tries to grab his hand where she knows it was but can no longer see. Tucker starts at the sound and drops his device, screeching gratingly at the clattering plastic of his PDA hitting linoleum, hard.

When the mist finally evaporates, the Fentons want to take him home immediately and run tests. They think the ghostly influence is ‘obvious’ but the 68-year-old nurse, Beatrice stands like a 5-foot-nothing wall of solid rock and won’t let them touch him. Jazz also angles herself between her parents and the door so if they did somehow manage to get their hands on Danny, they wouldn’t be able to leave without steamrolling her. Then the heartrate monitor goes wild as Danny panics about being a guinea pig for his parents’ less-than-lukewarm lab safety practices and they back off without further interruptions.

That’s the point when it hits them that everything that has happened to Danny is their fault. His accident was because of them, he’s melting down because of them, both of their children genuinely believe that they will hurt Danny just because he’s having weird ghostly side effects to almost dying in a ghost portal. One they built.

It’s a few hours later when they breach the subject of going home, of at the very least making a decision about school even if that decision is to formally take a leave of absence. Sam and Tucker’s parents had made them go home and he’s a lot calmer now but at this stage, his weird ghost powers are causing problems. It seems to the orderlies and nurses that his anxiety is getting worse because he’s turning intangible through cups and cutlery – making it look like he’s shaking so hard he can’t even hold a single cup, and is flat out refusing to eat.  

Even though it’s been less than a day it looks like Danny’s shock is just getting worse. He phases through his bed right as Beatrice and his parents walk through and they think he’s hiding under there out of fear. He tries to explain, confused, and disoriented and deep in denial. Jazz shuts him up. She doesn’t know completely what’s going on, but she knows enough, and she isn’t letting 12 hours of changed behaviour force her to blindly trust her parents.

Beatrice is most concerned. It hasn’t been very long but there’s no reasonable cause for his steep and steady decline. No reason outside of something-something-ghosts.  

That’s when the first few pamphlets come out about therapy animals. They require some time to be trained and the middle of nowhere Amity Park doesn’t exactly have a pool to choose from, but it’s okay to adopt a younger animal and train it themselves.

Danny looks at the pictures of the fluffy bunnies and alert-eared dogs with big, glistening eyes. Then puts them down. There’s no way an animal would be safe in his house.

That’s when the ghosts attack. Danny isn’t the only spectre with a ghost sense and these ghosts are less human due to a lack of ectoplasm. Obviously, the silver fog reappears, and, in his terror, Danny drops to the next floor of the hospital, glitching through his bed and the floor underneath it. He crashes painfully in the middle of the gift shop.

His parents reach the conclusion that due to his extreme ectoplasm contamination; he’s developed a serious allergy to ectoplasmic weaponry, including things like ectoblasts that ghosts have naturally. They’re not…the wrongest that they could be. Unfortunately, they decide that Evil Ghosts TM can sense this weakness and are trying to kill their poor baby boy. Everyone else is freaking out about ghosts being visibly proven but the Fentons knew ghosts were real with zero doubts so they’re rolling with it.

Now, due to the knowledge that he died, Danny is having difficulty worrying about other things like catching up with schoolwork, his weird new allergies/powers or even Dash.

BTW KUDOS to anyone still reading, I know this part was really long, but I really felt like I couldn’t just flim flam over the details of why Danny would need an emotional support/service animal even if it’s fictional.

First day back at school, the Lunch Lady attacks. Danny barely eeks out a win just like in canon.

His parents decide that this is because of the allergies and the ghosts being able to sense Danny’s weakness as I said above. And they take it upon themselves to root out the problem at its source, to find all the ghosts who could hurt their son and imprison them, partly for Danny’s safety and partly for study. Not even they are sure where the divide is between their two loyalties.

So, they look to their now-functioning portal.

Unfortunately, they were massively underprepared, and they don’t come back.

 Jazz sees the locked lab door and leaves them to it, making dinner and making sure Danny knows she wants him to be at school.

He doesn’t go, she lets him not go.

Two days later the boredom is worse than his fear. He goes to school. Danny, Sam and Tucker enter like a single unit. Dash tries some shit and either:

Jazz emerges and smacks his head hard enough he loses vision for several seconds – long enough for her to knee him hard enough to put the continuance of the Baxter lineage into question.

Danny starts panicking again. The teachers always want to side with Dash but him openly attacking a kid who was just in the hospital who doesn’t even lift a finger in defence of himself is beyond the limits of any sane adult’s “boys will be boys”.

Doesn’t really matter, the point is that he’s not looking to fuck around any time soon now that he’s already found out. But he did in fact attack Danny.

Danny goes home. His first attempt at school following his death has failed.

Tucker, separately, goes to a garage sale to buy old electronics to use in his PDA upgrades. He buys a boxful of weird lab equipment that definitely has a microchip or two. When he opens it at Danny’s house as an effort to distract him, a small pink teddy falls out. No one notices it bounce beneath the sofa. Sam or Jazz brings up the support animal idea again but is reminded of the whole “our house is a toxic waste site” thing and backs off.

Weeks pass, Danny develops his ghost powers and Jazz realises their parents are actually missing. She submits a missing person report mentioning the switched-on portal – the lab door was locked from the inside.

So, when Danny wakes up one day and there’s a glowing green dog already with a collar and a toy he thinks “ah yes, a dog that my sibling has procured for me as we discussed many times to help me cope with my own mortality, the near-constant ghost attacks and my parents who vanished.”

So, he puts a leash on Cujo who is happily chewing on his little pink teddy and takes him off to school while Jazz is using her first free period to go bother the local cops about their parents. (Why haven’t they been taken in by child protective services? Either:

Because I said so

Jazz is 18

Jazz used her improbable psychology powers to bamboozle the social worker into leaving)

Everyone at school loves Cujo. He gets all the love and does a very good job of dragging Danny away from ghost attacks (so he can fight them!!)

Jazz doesn’t find out about Cujo until the afternoon but probably lets the whole thing lie because it’s a great solution.

This could go on for some time. Both Danny and Phantom have Cujo but as Phantom Cujo stays in his big form so there’s no connection made. Canon mostly proceeds as normal except the parents aren’t there and there’s no huge issue with Valerie.

Realistically, a fair few high schoolers are probably also on the hunt for a pet ghost dog because if Danny and Danny both have one there must be heaps going around. Danny is also worried about his parents and periodically looks for them but that isn’t the focus of this story so I won’t go into a lot of detail – just clarifying that he’s not a sociopath who finds out his parents are missing and goes “oh ok”.

This could be its own story but let’s get to the DC part now!!

Eventually the Justice League connects the two calls, one about the ghost dog and one about the parents disappearing through a portal. Maybe Valerie complains, or even fanon favourite Wes contacts the authorities about the ghost dog with no official training or certification. Either way the JLA algorithm picks up these two very strange claims from one town and send someone to investigate.

But I mean, parents vanishing from a locked room and a green dog aren’t exactly world ending stuff, so instead of sending an actual busy superhero they send one of the kid heroes.

Now a lot of people will go ahead and put Damian into this. But I don’t really care for him in a dynamic with Danny. But I have another vigilante in mind, one who is less animal crazy, but more dog focused and also has issues with being seen as an actual person.

That's right, it's Conner Kent. And his faithful alien dog Krypto. I've seen a few fics where Danny adopts him, but you know what other family member should think you're an actual person? Your significant other. This could totally be a friendship thing no problem, but I do feel like some versions of canon Connor Kent would get on great with Danny.

Without the looming, repeated threat of vivisection, I think Danny would be a lot more chill about his secret identity and would probably disclose Cujo’s origins to Superboy. Once Connor knows about Cujo (Phantom’s dog) being able to shrink, he can see Danny with the dog once and connect all the necessary dots. Because I stand by the fact that the main reason Danny’s secret ID isn’t discovered more is because there’s no reason for a dead person to have a secret identity but once the concept is introduced then it’s pretty simple. Connor can hang out with Phantom while Phantom does ghost fights because the Kryptonian can’t really contribute but he’s there for moral support.

Eventually, Danny reveals to Connor that he himself was cloned before and talks excitedly about his clone who he considers a cousin. I definitely think without the parents there that Dani would visit more even if she has an obsession with travel, wanderlust or freedom that prevents her from permanently moving in.

This knowledge makes him very upset about how he was treated by his genetic donors, and Connor decides to move in with the Fenton siblings (without really asking the Fenton siblings) and decides that he’ll commute to the watchtower/titans tower/mount justice (depending on which version of canon he’s in sorry I can’t be bothered to figure it out).

Unfortunately, on top of not asking the Fentons, he doesn’t notify or ask anyone in the caped community. So as far as any of them are concerned, Connor went on a minor mission to investigate some missing people and is now himself missing.

Just as a caveat because I don’t feel like getting into an argument today, I used the terms both “service animal” and “emotional support animal” even though in most countries these are not interchangeable legal definitions. I use it in a non-legal way here because emotionally helping Danny – especially when that emotional stress causes physical damage is a service, and also there is the potential for Cujo to help Danny in other physical ways.

Also, there is definitely room here for Dani being buds with Match. I think that'd be neat.

If I could draw, I would make art of Cujo and Krypto being besties but I cannot so just picture it for two seconds. Done? Great, thanks!

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

March, from The Procession of Months (c.1889). All poems were written by fifteen-year-old Beatrice Crane and illustrated by her acclaimed artist father, Walter Crane.

via pinterest

text id after cut-off

[text ID: "March" by Beatrice and Walter Crane

"The wind is rising high

To drive the mist away,

And herald the approach

Of MARCH, his mistress gay.

She comes with eyes so wild,

Quick rushing o'er the plain

Her flying hair let loose

Not to be bound again.

Her garments tinted green

Flutter all loose and free,

The wind so full of play

Tosses the folds in glee.

As she comes along

With eyes so full of mirth

The crocuses spring up

Like flames from the dark earth.

But now the wind grows still,

She must depart she knows

And, smoothing back her hair,

All quietly she goes." /end ID]

[piratekane]

a continuation from this roommates au 'verse, for @dealanexmachina

This party is loud and reminds Beatrice of all the reasons why she usually says no to these kinds of things - to the lights and the heavy bass and the permanently sticky floors and the press of sweaty bodies. The list goes on and on and on.

The reason she said yes is standing in the middle of it all, arms in the air and hips swaying tragically off beat with her head thrown back and not a care in the world.

Someone bumps into her side and the drink in her hand splashes up against the inside of the cup, threatening to spill over the lip of it and coat her hand in - she’s not sure what type of alcohol is in this. She hasn’t taken a sip. But a very intoxicated boy had insisted and Beatrice had had enough of his babbling, taking the drink and sparing herself another 5 minutes of a curse-peppered run on all the reasons why men really are discriminated against.

Add that to the list of reasons why she usually says no to these things.

She watches someone approach Ava, his body large but his face shadowed by the spinning disco lights that seem to be exploding against the walls. She can see the glint of his eyes, focused entirely on Ava, his goal inelegantly obvious. Ava doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the music to feel him coming up on her side.

Her grip tightens on her drink and if the cup cracks, she doesn’t hear it over - Ava would know this song, if she was close enough to talk to. But to Beatrice, it’s just a cacophony of noise that wiggles its way into her ear and leaves her with a dull throbbing sensation.

It’s a miracle, then, that she hears her name shouted over it.

Ava crashes into her view as if she was ever not the center of it. Hands outstretched, mouth split in a wide smile, she looks almost wild with glee as she slams into Beatrice. Beatrice is quick, turning her wrist sharply to avoid the contact and dropping the cup onto the side table near the couch she would never even think of sitting down on. 

Ava laughs, her breath sticky against Bea’s chin. “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

She tries to smooth out the crease she knows is crossing her forehead. It’s not as hard as she thought it might be, the longer Ava stares at her, smiling. “It’s loud.” She has to lean forward, to say it into Ava’s ear.

Ava pulls away, her smile widening. “Isn’t it great?” She has to shout over the thud, thud, thud. But somehow, it still feels like a whisper just for her.

A hand snakes down her arm and makes the jump from her wrist to her waist. She let Ava talk her into jeans tonight instead of her usual cotton pants. She vetoed a shirt from Ava’s closet, though, and picked something light and loose that sat firmly below her waist line and had no chance of exposing anything to anyone. Ava did not make the same considerations. She’s in a pair of low-slung shorts short enough that Beatrice can see the bottom of a pocket poking out from under the hem and a cropped t-shirt that rests just above her belly button.

If there was anything to be left to the imagination, it’s gone each time Ava lifts her arms above her head. Beatrice feels faint each time she does.

Ava’s fingers dig into her waist, fingers hot through the fabric of her shirt. Beatrice shivers a little and inhales sharp enough that her lungs ache for a moment but Ava doesn’t seem to notice, eyes searching over Bea’s shoulder.

“We lost everyone.” She pouts. Someone bumps into her and she stumbles into Beatrice.

It’s the only reason why Beatrice’s hands go to Ava’s waist. It’s the only reason they sway in towards each other. How did I get close enough for that? she wonders. But it’s the bodies surrounding them, forcing them to anchor themselves together. That’s why, she reasons with herself.

It means she doesn’t have to lean in too far to speak into Ava’s ear. “Mary and Shannon left. Something about being too old for this. Camila is talking to that engineering major she knows and Lilith is…” Well, the last time she saw Lilith, she was in the kitchen berating a boy with a long greasy ponytail who was insisting everyone call him a prophet. “Somewhere.”

“Party poopers.” Ava’s pout smooths out. “But you’re still here!”

“Where else would I be?”

It comes out too plainly. Too honest. She feels a rush of embarrassment flood through her, staining the flats of her cheeks. She’s suddenly thankful they’re at a party with the lights dimmed; Ava can’t see the way she turns red. Her hands give her away, traitorous fingers flexing against Ava’s nearly-bare hips. Ava smiles curiously and Beatrice wonders if she might be granted the mercy of some kind of cataclysmic event to wipe her off the face of the earth.

No such mercy exists. Ava smiles wider. “That’s my girl.”

Beatrice ignores the second ripple that floods through her, not wanting to give this one a name.

“Ava!” someone yells. They both turn and Camila comes into view, dragging along a tall boy with a mop of curly hair. Ava doesn’t untangle herself from Beatrice, curling even further into her. Camila pulls up to a stop in front of them, the tall boy bumping into her. She barely stays upright. “There you are! Where did everyone go?”

“It’s just us,” Ava says, exaggerating a pout. “And Bea and I are leaving.”

“We are?”

“You are?” Camila pouts fleetingly before she shrugs and throws her arms out, wiggling them into the limited space between Beatrice and Ava, wrapping one arm around each of them. Beatrice makes a face as an elbow nearly clips her chin, her stomach roiling slightly at the sharp sweetness of Camila’s breath. “Fine. If you must.”

Ava hugs the both of them tightly, eyes closed as she sways a little. “We must. As you discover changing times, you must have the strength to endure.”

Beatrice frowns. “Voltaire?”

“Earth, Wind & Fire.” Ava grins and pulls herself away from Camila but doesn’t let go of Beatrice. She rocks them back a step, Beatrice’s body moving stiffly as Ava controls them. “Remember to rob him later!” She laughs. “We love you. Say you love her, Bea.”

Beatrice softens. “We love you, Camila.”

The words get swallowed by by the music as the song changes and a cheer goes up. Ava doesn’t wait, moving her through the crowd with focused intention, aiming for the door. They spill out into the night and the cold air dampens the sound of the party they just escaped. Ava is still wrapped around for another moment longer and Beatrice navigates walking backward past a girl puking into the bushes. Ava finally unravels from her as they hit the sidewalk and Beatrice is equal parts relieved and melancholy at the loss.

“Let’s go home,” Ava sighs, grabbing Beatrice’s hand and lacing their fingers together. She throws her head back and shouts up into the night. “Home is wherever I’m with youuuu.”

Ava walks steadier than she seems she might on the way back. She doesn’t let go of Beatrice’s hand, though, clutching it tightly as she navigates broken curbs and cracks in the sidewalk. Beatrice lets the cool air ground her back in reality. She’s going to go home and have a glass of water and try to forget what Ava’s hands feel like pressed to her face and what Ava’s mouth feels like against the line of her jaw.

But Ava has a different idea. Because she drapes herself over Beatrice’s back as she works the key into the door, hanging on as Beatrice shuffles awkwardly into their apartment. The air smells fresh and Beatrice breathes it in for a second, feeling Ava move against her before her body slides away and pours like liquid across the living room to the couch.

“No, no.” Beatrice follows after her, hands grabbing at Ava’s wrists. “No, you need to brush your teeth, Ava. And change into something else.” Ava’s nose wrinkles and she sits down on the couch anyway. Beatrice sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Ava.”

“Beatrice,” Ava says, voice pitched low. Her attempt at an accent is always slightly better when she’s drunk, Beatrice has noticed. She pushes out her bottom lip and pulls her feet up under her as she wiggles back into the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”

Beatrice changes tactics. “Wouldn’t your own bed be better?”

“No.” Ava holds out a hand, beckoning her. “You won’t be in there with me.”

It’s one place Beatrice has yet to go. She cleaned it out when her last roommate left, changed the sheets in preparation of Ava’s arrival. But since Ava moved in, she hasn’t crossed the threshold. It feels too sacred. She feels too exposed.

Because if she did, if she allowed herself the chance to enter the last private space Ava has, Ava would know how desperately she wants to be there. And that is something Beatrice wants to keep under lock and key, hide it away and pray that Ava will never find out. If Ava knew… If Ava knew that Beatrice wants nothing more in the world to wake up underneath the plastic glow-in-the-dark star-dotted ceiling with her legs tangled in Ava’s and her fingers curled into Ava’s shirt - the world might break into two and create a chasm Beatrice could never be able to cross.

Ava pitches dangerously towards the floor and finds Beatrice’s wrist, tugging hard until Beatrice stumbles forward the last inch and narrowly avoids landing on Ava as she crashes to the couch. She doesn’t have a chance to recover before Ava is pulling her closer, wrapping Beatrice’s arms around her own body and pushing back into her.

Ava sighs, body loose and warm. Beatrice holds her breath until her lungs scream at her to let go.

“This is my favorite thing to do,” Ava sighs. “I love being with you.”

It doesn’t mean what Beatrice thinks it means, of course. Ava loves being with everyone. She loves something every day, uses that word so effortlessly where Beatrice uses it like fine china she takes out once in a while. Ava loves love. She loves being with Beatrice and she loves when Mary lets her ride on the back of her motorcycle and she loves ice cream dates with Camila and she even loves Lilith, when she’s drunk enough to admit that.

“You’re drunk,” Beatrice says kindly, the words like knives in her throat. Because it doesn’t mean what Beatrice wants it to mean.

“I’m tisp- tipsy,” Ava corrects. She shuffles around, stretching out until she’s sandwiched Beatrice between her body and the back of the couch. Beatrice can feel the line of Ava’s spine against her chest as she burrows backward into her. “And you’re warm. I love that about you.”

It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Beatrice bites back a list of things she loves about Ava in return. “Ava,” she says quietly. 

She hears a hum in response, the kind that lends itself to the moment just before someone falls into a deep sleep. A hand reaches back, pulling hers across warm shoulders until it’s balled up under Ava’s chin, feeling the hollow of her throat.

She tries again, fingers fanning out as far as they can in Ava’s tight grasp to feel the smooth skin of her neck under the pads of her fingertips. “Ava, wait.”

Ava wiggles down further into Bea’s arms. “Wait for you. I-” A yawn overtakes her and Beatrice feels selfishly impatient with it. “I’ll wait for you,” Ava finishes in an exhale. She hums again, a smile against Bea’s knuckles. “I’d wait for you forever.”

Beatrice swallows back the hope that presses against her teeth and runs her free hand through Ava’s hair, brushing it off her face. Ava is asleep already, mouth hanging open slightly as she breathes in and out. Beatrice watches for for a long minute, wondering how she happened upon something like this; how she got so lucky to find someone so… perfect.

She wonders when the dam will break inside her chest and the truth will come spilling out of her. Not tonight, with Ava asleep in her arms and all the lights on. Not tomorrow, with Ava smiling at her, bleary-eyed and hungover.

Ava mumbles something unintelligible and shifts in Beatrice’s arms and while it might not be tonight and it might not be tomorrow, Beatrice knows it will be soon. She can’t pretend for much longer. 

[wolfstarr-the-sequel]

Yo what are your guy's headcanons for the TF2 characters FULL names? Like first and last. I'll share some of mine

Scout - his first name is Jeremy so I'mma take a wild guess and say his last name is Jones (his mother's last name) . Its a common last name and let's be honest he probably convinced himself that he's related to Tom Jones in some way.

Soldier - Jane Doe (canon)

F.Pauling - Francine. I just like the name. Out of all the girl name that start with F, Francine is my favorite. Probably goes by Frannie or Franny or Fran for short maybe.

Pyro - TFC Pyro's name is Beatrice so maybe something that starts with the same letter such as Benny. I'd say that's a pretty genders neuteral name. And for the sake of alliteration let's say their last name is Baker or something because ya know, heat.

Demoman - Tavish Finnegan DeGroot (canon)

Heavy - Mikhail is a very common name so let's give him a common last name like Mikhailov. Sure it's almost the same as his first name but it rolls off the tongue.

Engineer - Dell Conagher (canon). I like to think his middle name is Radigan, after his grandfather

Medic - Mr (not doctor) Ludwig. Fritz Ludwig. Blame Emisis Blue

Sniper - Mick Mundy. I think his middle name is Eustace or something. Y'know like courage the cowardly dog.

Spy - I've seen many people headcanon his name to be Jacques and honestly I'm vibing with it. For last name perhaps Laurent. Flows nicely.

[beatricebidelaire]

101 ways to convince someone to buy a penthouse

When Beatrice fails to persuade Jerome to buy the penthouse of 667 Dark Avenue, the volunteers know it's time for Jacques to give it a try.

~2.9k. Jacques Snicket / Jerome Squalor.

rating: explicit

__

Jerome Squalor is non-confrontational, mild-mannered, and perhaps somewhat timid. Usually, he does not like to argue, finding it easier to just agree with the other person, to avoid arguments. But not wanting to argue doesn't necessarily mean that he'll automatically do whatever is asked of him - if it's a small, easy favor, then of course, but if it's something more complicated, something bigger, or, as often in Beatrice's case, something wild and adventurous, then he usually won't go with it. He won't argue, of course, because he doesn't like to, so he either resorts to attempting to change the subject to avoid confrontations, or making an excuse to leave to get himself out of the conversation, or agreeing to whatever is asked of him verbally but proceed to not follow through with it. While Jerome Squalor is a person who does feel guilty when he breaks a promise or goes back on his words, he generally does not let the guilt change his mind once he's decided that he simply isn't capable.

Case in point: Beatrice has been unable to get Jerome to come onto another of their mountain trips again after seeing Beatrice getting carried away by the eagles at his first one.

So far, Jerome's tried all three of his tactics on Beatrice. He's hastily diverts the topic when the subject is brought up, he's tried to make some excuses to leave the conversation, and he's agreed, reluctantly, to join one more trip, but then just did not show up that day, to Beatrice's disappointment and everyone else's relief. Jacques, of course, was both disappointed and relieved when Jerome didn't show.

Of course, Jerome's still fairly easygoing, and fairly easy to convinced to doing someone a favor, if it's within what he perceives as his own capability, and if it's not so big that it kind of frightens him. Purchasing things for Beatrice at the In Auction, financing certain VFD parties - those are all easy for him. In fact, he's eager to help in small ways whenever he feels like he's disappointed Beatrice in some other way, most often by not showing up on her adventures where he's previously agreed to.

Apparently, purchasing a penthouse at a top of a building on Dark Avenue - not only expensive but also crucial, because of the tunnel connections - is too huge a change. Too much money, that'll probably get his parents to ask questions. Too big a decision.

[continuing reading on squidgeworld] [ao3]

[revindicatedbyhistory]

so kinzo is originally a japanese settler in taiwan, in what he considers a happy time in his life). then he goes out of his way to buy an inhabitated island to populate

the island has an already existing legend that then becomes altered to be about beatrice, who is you know an aryan european woman. beatrice then becomes associated with the "wild" uninhabitated sections of rokkenjima

kinzo has a fixation on cowboy films (you know. the film genre about colonialism) and also just western stuff in general, to the point of theming everything in the family around the west. despite this he doesn´t like subscribe to christian belief

(ok im not saying the ushiromiyas are literally colonialists but i do think kinzo keeps around the colonialism state of mind if it makes sense)

[possibilistfanfiction]

Holy shit if you write an avatrice footy au…good god my gay football loving heart I will love you forever

[it's coming along!]

you’re scrimmaging, small-sided, at the end of training — not your absolute favorite but better than ending with conditioning, although you’d already lifted today. even if you’d never admit it, sometimes you feel like you’d rather retire than do another beep test. you get stuck in, a strong tackle, versus lilith near your team’s goal, quick and complete, and then you feel, as you sometimes do, like the ball is with you. everything goes quiet and you could pass, maybe, but it all slows down and you see opening after opening, feints and stepovers and then a finish that feels like heaven: perfectly on the top of your foot, no spin on the ball, so fast and hard, placed in the lower left corner. mary watches it go in, instead of even reaching, and you roll out your shoulders, take a big breath. it’s exhilarating — close to joy, and a lot of duty — to move in the way that makes your body feel calm, and purposed, and controlled. 

‘good, beatrice,’ your coach, m. superion says, and you nod quietly.

‘holy fucking shit,’ you hear ava say as you accept a few high fives. 

camila laughs. ‘yeah. that’s what the best in the world looks like.’

it’s apparently a good goal to end on, because superion calls it and sends you all off. you dutifully make your way to physical therapy, listening happily and idly to a few of your teammates talk about the weather and their plans for your free rest day coming up soon. you listen and remember: you know how to be a good teammate, a good captain, because you love your teammates, care about their wellbeing. 

eventually some people go to cool down and stretch. you go to physical therapy, as you have for a while because of a string of mostly small and nagging injuries.

‘hey,’ ava says, sidling up to your hip as you walk down the hall. ‘that was — i’ve genuinely never seen anyone move with the ball like that before.’

you want to smile, but it’s hard to take a compliment that sincere, that pointed with praise. it makes you feel special, and you have no idea what to do with that. ‘thank you.’

she grins, sits down on the table next to yours. ‘i’ve watched you play for years, but seeing it in person is… fucking awesome. i’m pumped to get to play with you.’

‘i —‘ you don’t quite know what exactly to say— ‘you bring a lot of joy to the pitch.’ admittedly, ava’s work rate and fitness and defensive discipline appear to be kind of abysmal; she seems mostly concerned with scoring, but it’s true. she smiles and laughs and tries outrageous moves, even on her first day with your squad.

’wow, thank you,’ she says, totally sincere, and it makes something in your chest — long since locked away — ache. ‘i’m, like, sort of a big fan? this is kinda wild for me.’

‘well, let me know if you’d like an autograph later.’

ava raises her brows. ‘oh, i mean, i’m sorry if that was weird?’

you do succumb to a laugh now. ‘no, no. i was kidding. i promise i’m nothing special.’

‘that’s insane,’ ava says, unceremoniously stripping her shirt off, and you have to look away. you’ve spent your entire life in locker rooms and recovery, but this feels, just — different. ‘you’re like. such a badass.’

you can’t do anything but stare at your ankle and just shake your head, and you can tell that ava is ready to argue this point forever, but then vincent walks over with the TENS machine.

‘good to see you again, beatrice,’ he says, ‘and hello, ava. i’m vincent; i’ll be your physical therapist with the team.’

‘sweet,’ ava says, offers a hand. ‘good to meet you, man.’

‘you too.’ he turns toward you. ‘i’m going to get ava set up first, beatrice, and then we’ll do stim and ice on your ankle, the usual.’

you give a firm thumbs up, which makes ava smile into her shoulder. her hair is sweaty, slicked back and out of its ridiculous and ineffective bun. you think, for a moment, what it would be like to run your fingers through it after a game, or in the shower, or — 

you swallow and feel a little panicked at that train of thought, stop it immediately, focus on the rehab exercises vincent had given you a few days ago to reload the lateral tendon in your ankle like you’ve been working on for months. 

vincent tells ava to turn around on the bed so he can do a quick assessment, and you don’t want to look; you don’t mean to look, but there’s ava’s pale skin and thin, small, strong shoulders; the nape of her neck, the tender truth of her elbows. you notice it all before you see the scar that runs what seems like the length of her spine, healed and faded but clearly a little irritated after playing today. you don’t wonder why she still wants to play, even though she tells vincent that her pain is at a four and then, when he lifts a brow, reluctantly admits it’s closer to a seven.

he frowns, massages an area around her spine between her shoulder blades with the soft tissue cream for a moment, and she nods.

‘yeah,’ she says, ‘it’s a little better.’

‘we want to be careful bringing you back into fitness and full contact.’

she groans. ‘i’ve been careful for the past two years.’

‘i’m afraid you’re always going to have to be careful.’

ava sighs. ‘yeah, yeah.’ she sits, shoulders a little slumped, and you want to cheer her up somehow, make things better, bring back the joy she’d given the room. but you stay quiet, return an email from your agent about an upcoming shoot later this week, and when you look over, ava is on her stomach, her head turned and resting in the crook of her crossed arms on top of a pillow, facing in your direction. vincent puts the pads carefully on either side of the back of her sports bra, and she relaxes, just slightly, as her puts a heating pad over it to cover the majority of her back.

she looks peaceful, when she closes her eyes as you lie back and let vincent massage your ankle for a minute or two and then prop your leg up on a bolster. he gets your pads and current level situated — you know it’s supposed to be comfortable, but you always push yourself a few levels higher than what is actually comfortable — and then wraps your ankle in ice.

‘twenty minutes,’ he says, ‘and then i’ll let you go for the day; i think you have film after lunch.’

‘thank you,’ you say, and you think ava might have legitimately fallen asleep but then she cracks an eye open and smiles at you. 

‘you had surgery this off season?’

‘you are a fan.’

a delightful blush darkens her cheeks but she takes it in stride. ‘well, maybe i follow you on instagram. maybe. but you never even post anything. i just got it from the IR, honestly.’

you hadn’t posted about your ankle — the minor surgery you’d had or any of the off-season therapy and training you’d done or how mary and shannon had forced you to let them bring you food and watch movies with you on your couch — so you figure that is legitimately true. ‘i did,’ you say. ‘uh, have surgery.’

‘so we’re gonna be PT buddies this season,’ she says, genuinely excited at the prospect. 

‘i can’t imagine the PT you’ve had to do.’ you don’t mean to play your cards, not quite like this, but ava’s smile is sad and gentle and you can’t find it in yourself to regret it. 

she hums. ‘the feeling of being back on the pitch is, like, a fucking miracle.’

‘your back hurts, though?’

she shrugs as best she can. ‘yeah, all the time. but i love football, and i was never supposed to get to play again, so, you know, i figure i’ll just try for as long as i can.’

‘football is my favorite thing,’ you say, quietly, and ava’s smile turns happier.

‘me too.’

‘not defending, though.’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘yeah, i get the feeling lilith hates me already.’

‘your defensive work rate is terrible.’

ava seems mostly unfazed. ‘my finishing slaps, though, cap. gotta give me that.’

‘perhaps.’

she grins. ‘i’m gonna be scoring worldies, just you watch.’

you have the feeling that, work rate or not, ava is going to be a light. you’re the best player in the world because you have devoted your life to your craft: you stay longer and work harder and take recovery more seriously than anyone you know. you don’t drink; you stick to your nutritional plan exactly. you don’t have — distractions.

‘lilith is just upset because, since shanon retired, she thought she was going to take over starting at the 9.’

ava awkwardly waves her hand as if to shoo off the thought. ‘i doubt i’ll start anytime soon.’

you don’t want to tell ava that watching her today, even though she seemingly hates tracking back and marking anyone, ever, every shot she’d had on goal was electric. was beautiful. ‘we’ll see, i guess.’

‘i don’t — i don’t really care about starting, or stats, or whatever.’

that’s part of the problem, you want to say, but it feels important to be quiet.

‘i just want to play.’

you nod. ‘i can — it’s easy to see.’

she grins. ‘so, beatrice, where’s the best place to eat here? favorite bar? where do you go dancing? are you single?’

you blanch a little at the last question, feel your heart start to race. 

ava can notice, horrifyingly. ‘i just — sorry, if that’s too personal. i just love new places, and i’ve been doing physical therapy for so long i’m excited to go… be a person again, outside of football.’

‘it’s okay,’ you say. ‘i don’t really go out.’ you leave it at that, hope it’s enough. ‘but camila and mary love a thai place nearby. i’m sure some of the girls have a few spots they’d be happy to take you to.’

‘cool,’ she says, ‘and you’ll come with, right?’

‘ava.’

she laughs. ‘i’m gonna get you to have a life outside of football too, i swear. it makes the football more fun.’

maybe that’s true, but you wouldn’t really know. you had been playing in academies since you were twelve. 

‘what’s the point in being the best in the world if you don’t enjoy the world?’

you have no answer for that, but thankfully the timer on the TENS beeps for ava and vincent pops by, takes the pads off and then does the same for you. you don’t miss ava’s grimace as she sits up and your chest pulls in worry for her, but then she sets her face into a smile and thanks vincent, puts on her slides and a clean hoodie. she waits for you to walk to the locker room.

‘first day was okay?’

‘first day,’ she says, ‘was magic.’

you smile; how can you not? ‘well, conditioning is tomorrow; superion is… so intense. don’t expect much magic from that.’

ava just laughs. 

/

the next day ava throws up in a trash can during the beep test but, to her credit, she does keep going, tapping out a few stages before you, on par with most of the other girls.

no one comes close to beating you, and when you finish at 14 — your own personal record you can’t ever seem to break — you hold your hands above your head, open up your burning lungs, even though all you want to do is lie down and close your eyes until you feel less exhausted, less light headed.

but eventually you’re finished, and you run through some easy passing sequences on the pitch before you head to PT again, ava in tow. 

‘you’re right,’ she says, wiggling a little to get comfortable on the table next to you.

‘about many, many things,’ you say, and she rolls her eyes. ‘but what specifically are you referring to?’

‘the beep test is categorically the opposite of magic.’

you laugh. 

‘i was just thinking about how good a pizza will taste tonight.’

‘i don’t know the last time i’ve even had pizza.’ it’s an admission that comes out far more honestly than you’d intended. 

ava frowns. ‘pizza is magic, okay? plus, we can get, like, protein and veggies; it’s an awesome food.’ she turns toward you. ‘wanna get pizza with me tonight, bea?’

no one in the entire world calls you bea, and you think about correcting her but she’s smiling so hopefully, her hair messy and her eyes big and brown and gorgeous, you nod. ‘fine. but, delivery? i want to watch some more film.’

‘ugh,’ ava says, ‘here?’

‘oh,’ you say, ‘no. no. i was planning on going home and watching it there.’

ava grins. ‘so this is an invitation to your home?’

you feel a rush of nerves, imagining ava on your couch, eating pizza, watching film from last season; suddenly, it’s all you want. ‘if you’d like.’

ava reaches out to give you a high five; it’s clumsy and at an odd angle because neither of you can move, but it’s warm and happy all the time. ‘this is gonna be great.’

you think, despite all the hope you try to tamp down, that it is.

[violivs]

NMTDaily: A Wild Hero Appears

- It makes me a little sad that Bea tweets out this video with “meet the prettier version of me”. You’re beautiful in your own right, Beatrice, and I don’t think Hero would want you to compliment her by putting yourself down. This moment starts to show Beatrice’s insecurities, in a very teenage-girl way. It feels very accurate to that time of life for sure.

- What’s interesting, though, is that this tweet, where Bea thinks of herself as less pretty than Hero, is a direct parallel to and reversal of the moment in a future episode when Claudio tells Ben who he likes (Hero), and asks what Ben thinks of her, and Ben says he prefers her cousin, naming no names. These lines are adapted from the play. Now, I’m not going to say it’s good or ok for the guys to be comparing the girls to each other, even unintentionally, and of course Beatrice has to develop her own self-confidence outside of what anyone else thinks of her. But it is very sweet that at the time she makes that self-deprecating tweet, Beatrice already, unknown to her, has someone who looks at her before anyone else, who always thinks she’s the prettiest girl in the room. It’s just that even he doesn’t know it yet! Ben has thought Beatrice was gorgeous since long before he could admit it to himself, and that just makes me happy.

- I bet Hero’s “you’re not so bad looking yourself, Bea” is her answer to the tweet. She’s too sweet even to directly address it.

- Hero reading TFIOS is so incredibly 2014. (I can also tell she’s an actress and isn’t actually reading it right now because she’s that far into the book and she isn’t SOBBING. I’ll never forget how hard I cried and I’m not afraid to admit it.)

- “Hero it’s Darcy on a horse” being the thing to get her attention is hilarious and adorable and how many Jane Austen Movie Nights do we think she and Bea have had? Definitely some!

- Hero is adorable and we love her enthusiasm and many many video ideas 😆

- there are so many amazing quotes in this episode. “room tour. room tour. ROOM TOUR”; “I am very proud of the witty capabilities of 3-in-the-morning me” amazing.

- Bea is starting what’s essentially senior year in April at a new school. That has to be stressful. Good that she seems cheery about it. I’m sure she’s not at all worried about who else is in her classes…

- Now I want lemonade! Lol. But US lemonade for me. Research is telling me that NZ/Aotearoa lemonade is just basically lemon soda, like it is in the UK, as opposed to the US lemon juice + water + sugar situation. I hope Bea gets to try US lemonade on her travel year. It’s so good when it’s good.

- the Hersula origins! “She’s so lovely I catch myself wanting her to insult me” 💕

- Shoutout to the NMTD Fandom Revival Discord for catching the fact that Bea’s line “what is this cake even for” is a reference to the TARDIS cake Ursula shared on her tumblr, showing that Ursula and Hero surprised Bea with the cake for no reason at all, they’re just that sweet and lovely!

- A brief aside: Ursula’s tumblr has been lovely. She’s posted lots of desserts including one that she said is her dad’s specialty, so now I headcanon that she likes to bake because it’s something she and her dad do together. Ursula lore!

- Poor Meg. It’s tough to be an early bloomer, and you can tell the girls know they shouldn’t be making fun of her for it. I’m glad Hero told Bea to stop, but she was still going along with it and was the one who said the “Queen of Scream” line. We know they’ll learn, though.

- I also notice the link to Ursula’s first video in the description of this episode is now broken and goes to a page that says the video doesn’t exist. Fortunately VOX POPS is alive, well, and next in the playlist. Interesting how links break over time.

- This episode is apparently from before the characters start answering YouTube comments, I checked the comment section. That’s something I’m interested to see whether the NMTDaily emails will highlight, because I remember the characters’ comments being very fun to read! Good for immersion too!

- I’m embarrassed to even admit this, and I blame growing up without cable tv or video games, but I’m just now realizing this title is a Pokémon reference. This show was always even nerdier and more full of pop culture references than I realized! Excited to see if I find anything else I didn’t get before!

💖🥭🦩

[jtl07]

so i found notes for more drummer-street performer!ava but realized i never made a proper post for that idea? i think it's only the tags here?

anyway i'm just gonna copy-pasta my notes [i lied, i rambled a bit lol]:

maybe they exchange instas or something but Beatrice is of course shy and Ava doesn't want to push but does send her some random stuff over the next few days which okay confuses Bea a bit (both the content and the intent because surely Ava isn't actually interested in her - boring, restrained, unsure if she even likes music anymore)

then she notices Ava post something on her feed that mentions she'll be at a certain spot and Beatrice knows that place, she passes by it when she goes to the wine shop she likes and well, she doesn't necessarily need more wine but she has been meaning to go, if she ends up being there at the day and time Ava had noted in her post well with her guitar in hand - that's just coincidence really.

coincidence is what makes her stride lengthen when she starts to hear the drumming; coincidence is what matches her heart to the beat and parts the crowd just so -

and there she is. Ava Silva, drummer extraordinaire, full of energy, full of life.

the sign's up again but Beatrice balks at the crowd. it's not the crowd that bothers her per se. she's played for crowds larger than this, more expensive than this, but this - this feels important, and she's never really done 'important' before. not something important to her. not something that shows herself.

it's not something she thinks she can do. so Beatrice starts to turn to leave but of course, of course, Ava sees her. she smiles, bright and delighted, waves at her even while keeping the frenetic beat. gives Beatrice what she knows is an invitation in the way she waggles her eyebrows.

Beatrice bites her lip. glances at the crowd; feels the rhythm. realizes her foot is already tapping to the beat.

why not, she thinks. why the hell not.

Ava's whole body lights up as Beatrice steps through the crowd, grins wide and wild and free. "play with me!" her sign had said. Beatrice takes out her instrument and her heart out yet again; remembers what it means -for her, for real - to play music.

(my last note to myself was: also: they get churros lol )

[tinyplanetss]

fascinated by this line from much ado (4.1.320) that i've never really noticed despite reading this play a good dozen times. the idea that this concept of chivalry has grown so common that the standard for what is considered to be an above-and-beyond kindness is just the act of dramatically swearing by something, even if it's false or inconstant. the idea that hercules, with his twelve labors, is something a man can consider himself to match by swearing his heart upon falsehoods!! "valor into compliment" the gap between saying something kind of nice about someone and performing an act in someone's name (for example. kill claudio) is HUGE and modern culture (for shakespeare's time) has shifted to conflate them to such a wild degree. oh that a friend would be a man for my sake.

AND THEN ‼️ benedick goes to swear! and beatrice says THATS NOT ENOUGH. and because the others's matchmaking prank made him actually look inward and study/better himself, he looks to her and LISTENS and trusts her!!!!!

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

January, from The Procession of Months (c.1889). All the poems were written by fifteen-year-old Beatrice Crane and illustrated by her acclaimed artist father, Walter Crane.

via pinterest

text id after cut-off

[text id: "JANUARY" by Beatrice and Walter Crane.

"The New Year has come

A fresh and rosy child

See! he clasps the hand

Of a lady young and wild

Her name is January

She wears a cloak of fur

'Tis sprinkled o'er with snowflakes

Which fall at every stir.

Of fur her cap is also

'Neath which her wild hair shows,

And though she looks so wintry

Each cheek is like a rose.

And when she puts her fut

On a stream she wants to pass,

At once the surface hardens

Like to a sheet of glass!

And now her time is over,

She says "farewell" at last,

And in a cold snow-shower

She goes, and it is past." /end id]

[bechloesupercorp]

Ava trying to save bea from falling ( andrew garfield's spider man trying to save gwen but its avatrice.)

A/n: anon, this has lived in my head every single second since you've sent it. every. single. second. Then it became a monster and ta-dahhhhh!

Also! If anyone has prompts they want to see, feel free to send them in!

TW: death

Some days, it feels like her life is a movie. Right now would be an action movie – wait no, maybe a superhero movie. A wild hunk of wood whistles over her head, a poor possessed guy flying as Ava lands two quick hits to his front, unconscious against the rooftop. They aim to wound, not kill. A superhero movie for sure, Ava thought, smiling at the sound of her sisters around her, battling it out like some wicked team montage. 

If this was a rom-com, Ava would be staring at her girlfriend, light sparkling against Bea’s tanned skin as she takes down possessed after possessed with her staff. Her girlfriend.

She’s so lucky. She’d always thought that she’d stay alone, trapped within the cold walls of St. Michael’s, no one to live with. With no one to live for.

But Bea– Bea is just wonderful. Late nights curled on the sofa, watching cheesy shows that Bea insists she watches only for Ava. (Lies.) Early mornings to the smell of pancakes, sidling up to Bea at the stove, pressing sweet kisses to the back of her neck. Jolting up in the middle of the night to endless nightmares, only to be cajoled back to reality by a soft hand and a quiet voice. 

Bea is patient. Running drills over and over with her, only encouraging words and quiet corrections. Ava’s never met anyone so kind. For a girl burned for every mistake she’s ever made, Beatrice has no hesitation. “Mistakes are how you learn,” she would say each time she found Ava on the verge of tears, Sister Francis’ shrill voice ringing in her ears. 

“No one would ever love a mistake like you.”

But Frances was wrong. Bea had proven her so.

“Mistakes make us strong,” Bea blurted once, after they’d gotten home. Sweat still clung to her neck, leaving itchy trails over her skin. Ava just stared back at her, not wanting to break the momentum. “Mistakes make us human.” 

Sister Francis still taunted in the back of her head, “No one would ever love a mistake like you.”

It was like she read her mind, eyes earnest as she unlocked the door and stepped to the side to let Ava pass. Just as she did. Bea grabbed her wrist, leaning in with a whisper.

“No mistake could ever make me leave you.”

A spark flew down Ava’s back, setting her senses on fire.

She knew it that night.

 She was in love. 

“Ava, focus,” that British voice calls, snapping her back to the present. Another guy comes at her, this time with a crowbar. Ava spins with a laugh, bouncing on her feet when he faceplants. “Ava,” Bea goes again, “Watch your six!”

“Yes, sweetheartttt,” Ava teases, feeling Bea’s presence behind her, covering her anyways. It’s how Bea shows her love. Fiercely protective, always reliable, love murmured in the graze of her fingers and the light in her eyes. Sometimes Ava wishes that Bea would let her take care of her instead. 

It’s okay. Bea knows she loves her. She said so, under the shield of night, the day that Ava came back. Curled up together on their squeaky old mattress, springs undoubtedly digging into her back. Ava had tucked her head against Bea’s chest while she stared at  the ceiling. Like thousands of times before. But this time, she had Ava by her side again. The tears had long dried, now just soft puffs of breath just breaking the silence as they sat with their thoughts. Bea’d been so quiet that Ava’d nearly thought that she’d fallen asleep, if not for the gentle fingers stroking her hair. 

“I’ve never known love this way,” Bea whispered, voice thick with emotion, “Until I saw it in your eyes.”

“I love you.”

Bea didn’t respond after that, closing her eyes with a soft sigh and pressing a kiss to the crown of Ava’s head. It was left unsaid. But Ava felt it anyway. 

Even now, surrounded by the possessed’s despair, Ava can feel their love reverberating through the air. Another possessed charged, this time a pointy stick in their hand. 

Oh c’mon, who just left a pointy stick around?! 

She hones in on the stick, adrenaline fuzzing out the rest. 

First mistake. 

“Ava!” 

Her head whips around at the sound, staring straight down the barrel of a gun, pointed right at her from the other side of the rooftop, blood rushing from her face. 

A blur tackles the man, the same green-blue of Bea’s favourite sweater. The gun shifts in time with a sharp jab to the ribs. Fuck. Stick guy. 

It takes three hits – redirect, disarm, finish – til stick guy is groaning on the ground, red mist fluttering away. Ava takes a breath, dusting off her top, trying to quell the pulsing in her limbs.

The sun has set, obscuring their vision. The possessed glow though, casting the entire scene in burning red. The same shade as blood.

“Bea!” Camila screams, Ava frantically searching for a glimpse of that sweater amidst the chaos. 

She’s still on the other side of the roof, grappling with a man twice her size over the pistol. Getting closer and closer to the edge, Ava watches, feet glued to the floor, as Bea glances over her shoulder, the man giving her a shove. 

Ava’s stomach drops, Bea teetering on the ledge. 

A metal pipe swings, clutched in red dusted hands. Ava jolts forward, screaming, as it makes contact with Bea’s stomach. Her body contorts around the pipe, eyes wide as she flies back.

Her eyes snap up, finding Ava’s in a second. A silent apology as her mouth forms a perfect “oh.”

And she’s gone. 

Screams and yells echo in Ava’s ears, feet pounding against the ground as she dives over. 

In this life. 

— — —

She didn’t train for this. Wind rushing past her ears in freefall. It was always slow, steady, controlled. But she doesn’t have time for that. The ground rapidly approaching. Bea’s eyes are locked on her, like a prayer. Fear glistening. Please, please, please, she begs, reaching out to grasp for Bea’s shirt. Soft wool grazes her fingertips, and for a traitorous second, it’s all okay.

Bea slips.

Mistake two. 

Ava fingers meet air.

The Halo flares, accelerating as Bea continues to plummet through the air. A shot of hope runs through Ava’s heart, reaching again. The wool hits her palm and she yanks, fighting against gravity, praying it will be enough. The Halo screams at the added weight, flashing like a siren. 

Bea just stares, straight into her eyes. “I’ve never known love, until I saw it in your eyes.”

“I love you.”

Ava can’t hear the words against the wind whistling in her ears, but she sees Bea’s lips move. She’s imagined it so many times. Sweetly, after a morning in bed. As a huff in disbelief after a particularly terrible pun. Cuddled in the shadows, where they always seem to confess something or another. Not like this, plummeting from forty stories above the ground.

It’s not their time. They haven’t even sat and watched the sunrise together. They haven’t swam in the Blue Grotto. There wasn’t the time. It isn’t their time. 

“I’ve got you Bea,” she promises, channelling it all into the Halo.

The stop is abrupt.

It was like time slowed. The air froze in Ava’s lungs, suspended just a few feet off the ground. 

She did it.

Unsteady breaths shook her frame, a shocked laugh peeling at her mouth. Bea stared at her with those doe eyes like she’d hung the sky, a proud smile curling at the edge of her lips. 

“Ava,” she breathed.

Time resumed.

Panic seizing her chest as Bea’s neck snaps back, head bouncing against the pavement.

No.

Like one of those paintings in the convent. Dripping with loss and pain. Stuck for eternity, dangling in the memories. Bea, limp and boneless under Ava’s desperate grip, just above the earth, but worlds apart. 

“Don’t leave me.”

Beatrice doesn’t respond. 

“No, ” Ava breathes, tears trickling onto Bea’s face,  lowering to cradle her lover, “No.No.No. Please. Bea. Please. In this life, Bea. THIS life. Please.”

It can’t be the end. It can’t.

But she looks so peaceful. Like the weight of the world has drained out of her. 

But so has the joy. The life. 

“Open your eyes baby,” Ava pleads, searching for a sign. Shaky fingers frantically rubbing over greying cheeks. “Please.”

The skin is cold. 

She’s gone. 

Defeat falls over Ava’s shoulders. 

And Ava is here. And Beatrice is there. Ava’s never believed in heaven. She’s never believed in anything but nothingness. But she believed – believes – in Beatrice.

“In the next,” she promises, stroking over her hair. Bea’s bun must have fallen out during the fall, now fanned out against the pavement like a halo, streaks of gold shining against the dark.

She’s gone.

It takes several minutes. Just Bea in Ava’s arms, the Pieta all over again. 

Then something snaps. And Ava screams, anguished and raw, turning her face to the dark sky. In her peripherals, their sisters linger at the edge of the roof. They know. 

Mistake three.

And Ava is alone.

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 1

The Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus (The Locked Tomb) vs Rosette Christopher (Chrono Crusade)

Sister Mary Patrick (Sister Act) vs Yumiko/Yumie Takagi (Hellsing)

Sister Mary Robert (Sister Act) vs Sister Lupe (Leverage)

M—'s Nun/Cristabel Oct (The Locked Tomb) vs Lebkuchen (Little Goody Two Shoes)

Sister Boniface (Sister Boniface Mysteries) vs Sister Mary Lazarus (Sister Act)

Sister Mary Loquacious (Good Omens) vs Clarice (THE iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls)

Sister Darcy (Misericorde) vs Sister Camila (Warrior Nun)

Sister Bertrille (The Flying Nun) vs Nun-Chuck (Minions: The Rise of Gru)

Sister Zdena of Tábor (Pentiment) vs Sister Moira (Misericorde)

Sister Hedwig (Misericorde) vs Nona Grey (Book of the Ancestor Trilogy)

Sister George Michael (Derry Girls) vs Abbess Morvenn Vahl (Warhammer 40000)

Sister Illuminata of Perugia (Pentiment) vs Iris (Fire Force)

Miss Clavel (Madeline) vs Sister Theresa Rapual (Black Clover)

Mother Abbess (Sound of Music) vs Sister Margaret (Misericorde)

Sister Eustace (Misericorde) vs Sister Peg (Law and Order: SVU)

Sister Iris (Ace Attorney) vs Sister Superior Augusta Santorus (Warhammer 40000)

Zhou Zhiruo (Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre) vs Mercedes von Martritz (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)

Sister Gertrude of Hof (Pentiment) vs The Nun (The Inquisitor's Tale)

Mother Superior (Sister Act) vs Saint Celestine (Warhammer 40000)

Rosaria (Genshin Impact) vs Kate Scott (Trinity Blood)

Sister Evangelina (Call the Midwife) vs Canoness Selena Agna (Warhammer 40000: Dawn of War - Soulstorm)

Novice Hame (Doctor Who) vs Character Actress Margot Martindale (Bojack Horseman)

Adriana (The Demon Prince Goes To The Academy) vs Sister Helley (Wendell and Wild)

Sister Argenta (Warhammer 40000: Rogue Trader) vs Clarith Netsuma (The Evillious Chronicles)

Canoness Veridyan (Warhammer 40000) vs Sister Monica Joan (Call The Midwife)

Mother Mildred (Call the Midwife) vs Silque (Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia)

Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun) vs Sister Julienne (Call the Midwife)

Mother Superion (Warrior Nun) vs Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun)

Sister Maria-Fiore dei Fiori di Montagna (The 44 Scotland Street Series) vs Esther Blanchett (Trinity Blood)

Hot Pants (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 7: Steel Ball Run) vs Olivia Lanze (The Demon Prince Goes to the Academy)

Sister Mary Clarence/Deloris van Cartier (Sister Act) vs Canoness Junith Eruita (Warhammer 40000)

Sister Ruth (Black Narcissus) vs Sister Margarete of Krimml (Pentiment)