#camila's fics!

[julietsick]

timothee chalamet x actress!reader

fc: olivia rodrigo

liked by fingermonkey69, gracieabrams, zendaya and 1,907,647 others

tchalamet the beautiful girl stole my phone <3

view all 40,897 comments...

ynfan2 ARE THEY DATING????

gracieabrams y'all are too perfect :( tchalamet liked this comment! timmyfan67 WHAT????? I KNEW IT IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM

ynxtimmy78 I TOLD YALL MULTIPLE TIMES THEY WERE TOGETHER AND YALL DIDNT BELIEVE ME LITERALLY #LOSERS

taylorswift AGHH MY CHILD LOOKS SO HAPPY tchalamet liked this comment!

kidcudi you look happy bro, sending all my love! tchalamet love you bro, thanks

ynyln you literally gave me the phone to take a pic stop lying timothee tchalamet girl stop lying you know well you stole it ynyln liar.

timmyfan5 ITS HAPPENING YALL

liked by timmyfan56, yn4life78, and 100,894 others

enews Actress Y/n Y/l/n and Actor Timothee Chalamet were seen getting cozy in front of Y/l/n's apartment in Italy! Sources say they went to a nervy restaurant after this picture was taken! Timothee also posted the Y/l/n girl on his Instagram, could there be a relationship brewing between the two? We think so!

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ynlife456 can y'all leave these poor people alone, like a bit of privacy please!

honeymoon can y'all leave these kids the fuck alone please? ynxlanafan YES LANA DRAG ENEWS!

ynyln all that we ask is that to please give us some privacy, all we ask! tchalamet liked this comment!

timmyswifey869 this is why i don't wanna be famous, paparazzi all up in your nose and for what.

liked by honeymoon, tchalamet, benbarnes and 1,465,903 others

ynyln this boy is too pretty for this world <3

view all 465,789 comments!

ynxtimmy789 if yn confirmed it THEN ITS TRUE THEYRE DATUNG IM SO EXCTED OMFG JDNJEFNE

timmysonlygf CSREAMING CRYING PLS YES

timotheewifey68 ew why tf is she dating HIM???

tchalamet can i get a kiss? ynyln and can u make it last foreverrrr? ynfan567 TYLER??? PLS YES

feliciathegoat YASSSS ynyln liked this comment!

pascalispunk I just came here to say that SLAY and YASS ynyln PEDRO???

official_oscar_isaac_page Going with you guys on the next date! tchalamet i think... yes! ynyln back off timmy hes MINE. tchalamet u wish y/n

first social!media au fic... bear with me

[captainmera]

GROUP HUG! ⊂(・ヮ・⊂) <33

I've gotten like... five prompts for a group hug. so...... *gestures*

shameless plug but have you read my webcomic In Blood We Rise? :)

[notllorstel]

ha that would be a fun band name… unless

[fizzledlines]

This comic is a snippet of a scene from my lumity fic 'We'll Work It Out' based on the idea that Luz came out only a few weeks after arriving in the HR.

SUMMARY: Luz isn't immediately ready to come out to Camila, so her and Amity keep it subtle around her mom. Or at least Amity tries to, even though Camila clocks her from a mile away...

[bazaarwords]

thank you @why-does-it-matterr​! i think i got a little carried away, but i hope you enjoy!

cw: descriptions of injuries

-

There was a place she used to go to after the Order had days like these. Bad days. Ones that left her numb.

Historically, the place is both tangible and not—a lonely tower at the Cat’s Cradle, and once there, a few long moments of contemplation. But her old home is a long way away, and so Beatrice finds the part of her mind that needs this kind of treatment and sends it elsewhere. As for her body, she deigns to get to work instead of separating herself. The OCS may not be her world anymore, but there are wounded. People she cares for.

In the wreckage of their makeshift hideout, Beatrice wonders if maybe it’s never been the events of the day that seep the feeling from her. Maybe it’s always been this—this thing she must do to herself in order to succeed. Months of wandering have not divested her of the need to perform. The months have, however, been a reminder of all she’s lost.

She sets her feelings aside. There are things to do.

The first order of business: Camila’s shoulder is out of socket, and for all their collective expertise, Beatrice remains the best candidate to set it. Years ago, before the Order had swept her away, she’d spent a long summer volunteering in a hospital. It’s not the medical training she’d received afterwards, but the exposure was, at the very least, an advantage.

“Ready?” She asks, although she knows that Camila is always ready.

Camila, in the kind way she does all things, just smiles as if Beatrice is the one that needs the reassurance. She nods. “Go for it.”

Camila doesn’t flinch. She lets out a long, measured breath and she says, “ow” and she laughs at herself. Beatrice would like to take the time to laugh with her, but her joy is locked up in that faraway place. She squeezes Camila’s other shoulder, helps her into a sling made of a torn shirt, and moves on to the next.

Sister Dora has twisted her wrist. It’s discolored and swollen, but her bones are, thankfully, intact.

“A tarask,” she explains, “I thought it’d… well, I thought it’d kill me but…”

But she came back, Beatrice thinks to herself, searching the wreckage for wood to make a splint. She saved you.

She blinks that away—she has to. Sister Dora must notice her reticence. She doesn’t complete her thought. So Beatrice secures Sister Dora’s arm, and she moves on.

Yasmine has taken a glancing blow to the head, and Mother Superion has opted to stay up with her in the wake of the fight to monitor the damage.

“I’m okay,” Yasmine says when Beatrice comes by, holding up a placating hand. “I mean—I remember my name, so. So that’s good, right?”

Superion offers the smallest of smirks. It’s fond, not hard-won. “Yes, Yasmine,” she says, and rises up on unsteady footing. It’s not the new, halo-resurrected Superion.

“What happened?” Beatrice asks, firmer than she’d meant to. Emotions are nebulous when she settles into this way.

Superion shakes her head. “Nothing that should concern you. A few bruises.” She gives Beatrice a meaningful look—one she’s not present enough to catalogue. “There’s a cot in the back. Rest. We’re fine here.”

It sounds like an order, and even though she’s put the church behind her, she still respects Mother Superion. She can still recognize that she’s done all she can for the group, within reason. So she makes her way to the back room, feeling nothing. She sits on the edge of the cot, feeling nothing. She shrugs off her outer layers, feeling nothing.

Her mind has been in that faraway place, however, and as she returns to herself, everything sinks in.

While information comes in in pieces, on thing is for certain—there’s pain, everywhere. It would make the most sense to take stock of the worst places, the ones that need her immediate attention, but when feeling rushes back into her, the only thing she can think is that she needs to get out of this room and to wherever she’s gone—

There’s a jolt, razor sharp in the already excruciating throb of her abdomen. It’s quite obviously from when she’d been launched across a courtyard. The intensity winds her halfway to standing and her hip smarts as soon as she’s fallen back to the cot. She tells herself several times that she needs to get herself back in that empty place, that world where she feels nothing. Above all things, she needs to be there because she needs to find Ava.

A week prior, there had been a desperate call for help, a train from the small Finnish town she’d wandered into the month before, and Beatrice had found herself right back in the fray. Seeing the faces of her friends again after all their time apart had been bittersweet. When the fight had come to them, she’d remembered the last words Lilith had said to her. A holy war.

Despite her best efforts, she’s in the middle of it.

“Fuck,” she says, because she curses now. Because she knows that her knee is going to give out if she tries to stand. Because she’s effectively trapped herself in this room.

Frustration wells up in her like a lit fuse.

Assess the damage, she thinks, because what the hell else can she do?

The buttons of her shirt are slow work, her hands are weak from gripping her machine gun, her knives, the side of a building as she hoisted herself and Yasmine back to safety.

God is lost to her now, but it is a miracle that none of her injuries have drawn blood. A massive swath of skin along her side is purple and yellow but unbroken—it is the very worst of things. It hurts to draw breath, and hurts even more to bend and pull her pant leg up past her knee, to find the skin there in much the same condition. Upon further inspection, her hip, too, is a wild mess of bruises.

She’s a wreck, and what do they have to show for it? A few inches of ground? A few battered nuns, scrounging up whatever tools they can find?

Ava.

They have Ava. She just… doesn’t know where.

Beatrice had seen it happen as if in a dream.

The blinding light from above, the shockwave that had sent the tarasks flying in all directions, but hadn’t so much as nudged the sisters. When she’d looked, it was Ava’s form in the center of the light—Beatrice would know it anywhere, in any world—flickering in and out. She remembers shouting, desperate, stumbling through the wreckage. The details from there are hard to recollect. It’s when she’d been grabbed and thrown, it’s when the fight had resumed and she’d lost sight of Ava.

But she had seen her. That she’s certain of.

She closes her eyes, wincing as she tilts her head to the ceiling. The breath she tries to take is shallow and does nothing to steady herself.

“Beatrice?”

The pain of movement is forgotten, the voice like a ribbon of gold around her heart.

There’s Ava. There’s Ava.

The breath is gone in a rush, and Beatrice forgets the rest of the pain and she tries desperately to stand, to run, to move. Her leg gives out and Ava’s on her in a second, easing her back down.

“Ava,” she says, voice breaking, throat tight, “Ava.”

Ava kneels in front of her and she takes Ava’s face in her hands and she can’t look away. Suddenly, that place she goes—the one that is empty and lonely is filled with life. Filled with Ava. And she’s here, she’s real and alive and breathtaking in all the ways that Beatrice has loved. Loves. She feels nothing but it, looking at Ava.

“Bea,” Ava says, fingers wrapped around Beatrice’s wrists like they’ve been fused there. “Bea, you—you’re hurt.”

“You’re here,” Beatrice responds—nothing else matters. “Ava, you’re—“ She doesn’t have other words.

It should hurt to speak. It should hurt to lean forward, but then her lips are on Ava’s and nothing hurts, everything aches. Ava makes a small noise that lets loose something in Beatrice’s chest, and she wants to draw Ava closer, but her body betrays her, her whole side lighting up as if on fire. As if to remind her that respite is fleeting. But she doesn’t care, nothing else matters—

Ava notices her wince and pulls away. It hurts to try to pull her back, but still Beatrice tries. “Fuck,” Ava says, voice shaky, “Bea—hold on. You need—“

“I need you to not leave. I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m not—you’re not fine, your—oh, God, Bea your side—“

Another Beatrice might have taken modesty into consideration. Her shirt is wide open, her trousers undone, and Ava is knelt before her, a hand on her bare knee. She just—she just wants so keenly that the constant, painful reminders of her body’s journey through battle feel like they’re killing her. She wants to pull Ava up and on to her lap, she wants Ava’s mouth on hers again, she wants, she wants, she wants. And maybe it’s her pilgrimage and her seperation from the church that’s allowing her this clear revelation, or maybe it’s just the relief to be in the same room as the girl she loves. Maybe that’s all it’s ever been.

“Let me… shit, I don’t know how good I am at this yet.” Ava focuses down on Beatrice’s splotchy, wounded knee, and the dark room is slowly illuminated by the glow of the Halo.

It feels… itchy, at first. It’s not a scab, but the injury takes on the properties of one—Beatrice tamps down the overwhelming need to scratch or pat at it, but then—as soon as it began—it’s gone. Ava pulls her hand away and the skin is as normal as it’s ever been. An oblong scar where bone is closest to skin from one too many skinned knees, but other than that? Nothing.

“How did you…” Beatrice trails off, swinging her leg back and forth easily.

“I’d… you know, I’d really like to explain it, but, uh. I have no fucking idea.”

Beatrice can’t help it, she laughs, a little hysterical. And then she wants to throw up.

“Don’t—no laughing. Stop it,” Ava says with a worried smile. She sets the tips of her fingers at the massive bruise on Beatrice’s side, and Beatrice can’t tamp down the shiver that rockets through her at the feeling. “Sorry. Sorry, I just need to...” Ava says, her voice thick, “just let me…”

The Halo does its work again, scrubbing her pain from her, raw and red until it’s not anymore. Beatrice takes a breath, and there is no pain.

“Good?” Ava asks.

“Good,” Beatrice responds. She wants that to be the end of it, but when she tries to move in again—“I think there’s another…”

Herein lies the problem. Her hip.

Ava looks down, and they’re in the middle of a war, but Beatrice wonders if she closes her eyes for just a moment, maybe they’ll be back in the Alps. Maybe there, this touch is necessary for another reason. Maybe Ava is looking up at her like this and maybe nothing has ever been wrong.

But they’re in the blown-out remains of a church, and there are demons everywhere, and in her darkest moments she’d worried that this—her and Ava—was lost for good.

Ava hovers over her bruise, and Beatrice nods. Ava is delicate, fingers light over her hipbone. This is not the time to wish for another life, but still she does. And for the first time in months, the wish has legs. It climbs out of that place she goes and it smiles at her, and Ava smiles at her too, proud of her work.

Beatrice draws her in, and the war rages on, but there are no more lonely places.

She has Ava. It’s enough.

[drabbles-of-writing]

We were all fools for claiming Eda would be the chronic adoptive mom. This lady has legally adopted exactly 1 child and found family bonded with one other. That is it. Story wise she capped it at two.

Camila, on the other hand, started with one child, adopted two in everything except actual legality, and unofficially semi-adopted three others. She took one look at King and already loves him, I have no doubt she will try to unofficially adopt him as well. Camila is the chronic child adopter and the only way she could rise to a physically unbeatable level is if she nabbed the Collector. Which I fully believe she can and would do

[crimeronan]

"It seems like he's good for you," Camila says.

The Luz sitting at the kitchen table is certainly different from the one Camila has gotten to know over the past few months. The hope in her expression is guarded, still, like she's scared to feel anything good - but it's a thousand times better than her usual listless stare.

"He's my best friend," Luz says. Then, more cautiously, "I need him to stay here. With me."

The boy is the reason that Camila's search history has just gotten very peculiar and probably put her on a watch list. Things like Stahl's ear and oculocutaneous albinism next to unsolved missing children 2000s connecticut. That last one pulls up way too many current-day news pieces about Luz for comfort.

"Baby, I know you don't like to talk about it," Camila starts, and Luz tenses. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to. But have you been missing him this whole time? I would have found him, mija. I know you don't like the police, I don't either. But if I needed to find a way, I'd find a way."

Luz blinks rapidly, pressing her palms to her cheeks.

"Is there anyone else you're looking for?" Camila asks, very gently, very non-judgmentally. "Maybe someone you don't want to get in trouble?"

Luz shakes her head and clears her throat. Then she smiles in the peculiar, diplomatic way that never reaches her eyes.

"I just thought he was dead," she says lightly. "Silly me. I should have remembered humans don't kill people. I got some bad intel."

"Okay," Camila says. "Do you understand why that was a concerning thing to say?"

Luz shrugs.

"He has a lot of scars," Camila adds.

Another shrug.

"Baby," she says, "I need to know at least a little bit. I can't keep guessing forever."

Luz's mouth crumples. "I'm not what you think I am," she whispers.

"That's okay." Camila takes a seat across from her, exhaling softly. "I'm all ears."

[probablyhuntersmom]

This was comedic, played for laughs...

But the Head hadn't been thoroughly scoured from top to bottom yet. Once that happened, whenever that was, it would've been very unfunny. Far opposite vibes T__T

Idk I keep having thoughts about how easy it'd be for King or The Collector to blurt something out or allude to it and get Luz, Darius, Raine, Eber...and of freakin' course, Hunter...curious to press further. And who's to say whether Kikimora said something about it during an interrogation or in passing as well.

[quietblueriver]

Another prompt!

On the edge of consciousness

Quick thing #5.

In which Bea suffers a minor injury and Ava has some trouble dealing. All fluff. Very silly. Thanks for the prompt! :)

-

Ava’s exhausted by the time the van rolls back into Cat’s Cradle. She and Dora had taken six of the newly-official sisters to follow up on reports of some strange behavior in a town in rural France. Ava was hoping they’d find a whole lot of nothing and more than a little wine. What they actually found was eight wraiths and one fun new demon who had hurled himself through one of the cracks that had started appearing after Ava left, apparently a side effect of Adriel yanking Reya into this world, even though she only stayed for like 5 minutes.

It was quite an initiation for the newbies, who did really well all things considered. The whole deal is to make sure they can do this kind of shit without her, because Ava wants to be able to step away from demon-slaying every once in a while to travel the world with her curious, hot, polyglot girlfriend. She’s a teacher now, or whatever, so she didn’t just let loose with the halo when she got annoyed. Instead, she stood there and called out instructions and warnings and made sure none of the babies got maimed or worse and that they didn’t maim or worse any of the possessed. Quite a few halo interventions in the end, but they’re learning.

And the wraiths would have been enough, but of course there was the demon, a real asshole who at one point started sprouting and flinging weird spikes from his back. Ava did a lot of shield throwing and yelling and worked very hard not to intervene unless absolutely necessary. They got him down, in the end, and she finished the job. She’s physically fine but she’s mentally done—she needs sleep and Beatrice. Beatrice, mostly.

They haven’t spoken in three days, which isn’t unusual, unfortunately, but she always hates it. Occasional texts are sometimes the best they can do and she’d sent a few while Dora was driving but hadn’t heard back. Again, not unusual. Bea hates her phone even if she loves Ava (and she does, which she makes clear all the time to everyone and which Ava feels incredibly smug about, thanks) and she’s busy right now with training newbies.

Ava is looking forward to hunting her down in the yard, engaging in only a moderate amount of PDA because “I need them to be able to look me in the eye, Ava, please," and then sleeping for at least 12 hours.

Ava’s hauling her duffel from the back, the rest of the team shuffling inside, when she notices Cam, waiting nearby and fidgeting with her hands, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Cam?”

Camila…flinches? at Ava’s voice and Ava doesn’t like that one bit. She swings the duffel over her shoulder and walks toward her, frowning.

“Hi, Ava. Welcome home.”

Her voice isn’t peak happy Cam but she’s not upset. Still. “What’s wrong?”

Camila sighs, meets Ava’s eyes. “Okay, most importantly, everyone is fine.” Ava’s heart rate spikes immediately, the halo humming to life. “There was a bit of an accident.”

Ava stares expectantly at her, heart pounding and halo charged, and Camila winces.

“Beatrice was involved.” Seeing Ava’s face, she says again, loudly, “She’s fine! She will be fine! She is in the infirmary and everything is…”

Ava’s off before Camila can finish, dropping her duffel and phasing through the first of the walls between her and the infirmary doors. She has the layout of Cat’s Cradle memorized at this point, after eight months of living here and training here and wandering the hallways when she has nightmares and manages to sneak out without waking Bea, so she has a pretty good idea of where she’s going—straight back and to the right.

She’s barely bothering to let her body fully constitute again, catches two sisters in one of the hallways by surprise and hears a “Holy Father!” before she bleeds through a storage room and turns right down another hall to find herself, finally, at the infirmary doors.

She sees Beatrice propped up in the second bed, privacy curtains mostly open, holding a well-worn copy of The Oresteia, because of course she is, a bandage where an IV line would be on the back of her hand. Her other arm is in a sling, a wrap peeking out from the neckline of the loose gray sweater she’s wearing. She’s awake. She’s sitting up. She has a book. Ava is so relieved she nearly cries.

Beatrice startles obviously when Ava phases through the last door between them, and Ava knows she must be incredibly tired or incredibly stoned or both, maybe, to react that obviously. When she turns her head to face Ava fully, Ava’s jaw clenches tight and she starts forward immediately. The left side of Bea’s face is battered, covered in scrapes and rubbed raw in spots.

Bea seems unbothered, smiling dopily and letting the book fall closed and into her lap so that she can wave excitedly, moving her whole upper body in concert with her hand. She stops the motion quickly, flinching and staring down at her torso like it had broken a promise, brow furrowed in disappointment.

Yeah, so. Stoned it is.

Bea brings her attention back to Ava and the frown disappears as she reaches out, her motion still uncoordinated but less violent. Her palm is up, fingers wiggling expectantly. It’s adorable, but Ava can’t really enjoy it right now.

“Ava! I missed you!”

Ava smiles at her, grabs the wiggling fingers gently between her own and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over for a chaste kiss. Beatrice, uninhibited and unashamed, hums into it and sighs when they break apart, eyes fluttering and body swaying in a full Disney Princess-esque swoon. The instinct to coo at her like the precious baby duck she is fights with the ongoing panic in her chest and results in what she’s sure is a super fucking weird expression but Bea doesn’t notice or care; she’s all big brown eyes and open adoration.

“Hi, baby. I missed you, too.” She smooths a hand over Beatrice’s hair, newly shorn on the sides (a development that nearly broke Ava in the very best way), the length on top messier than Bea ever lets it be when she’s conscious and outside of their bed. Bea leans into her. “What happened here?”

She frowns, her forehead wrinkling, and Ava smooths the patch of unmarred skin with the tips of her fingers as Bea says guiltily, “Sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t want to make you worried. Just a little accident this morning.”

Ava will deal with that later. She’s not trying to get into it with sweet, stoned Beatrice about when to call. (Always, is the answer, Bea. Always fucking call. There is literally nothing more important.)

Before she can ask about what happened again, though, a flustered Camila hustles through the doors. She hovers uncertainly and then offers, weakly, “She’s okay?” The inflection lets Ava know Camila is aware of what a stupid fucking thing that is to say, but she glares at her anyway, and Camila blanches.

Ava turns back to her girlfriend and asks, resting her hand over Bea’s good one, the IV bandage tacky on her palm, “What kind of accident, gorgeous?”

Beatrice blushes, flips her hand so that she can play with Ava’s fingers, and says, incredibly nonchalantly, “We were practicing an extraction and I got hit by a car.”

Ava’s whole body tenses. The halo hums lowly.

“You got hit by a car.”

Beatrice hums, distracted by Ava’s hand, and then frowns, maybe realizing exactly how fucking awful that sounds. She looks up and adds, as though it will help, “Only a little!”

Camila sighs loudly but keeps her mouth shut.

“You got hit by a car a little.”

Ava works very hard not to lose her shit. She doesn’t want to upset Bea, and the real target for her anger, whoever hit her girlfriend with a car, isn’t in the room right now. She breathes deeply. The halo pulses the littlest bit under her skin in sympathy, still humming quietly enough that only Ava can hear it.

Beatrice offers, as if it might help, “A tap, really.”

“A tap? Beatrice.”

“No big deal. See?” She frees her good hand and uses it to wave up and down her body, flinches when the motion requires her to bend slightly and she’s definitely not making the point she wants to make. Ava catches her hand and holds it still.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fine.”

The halo hums louder and Ava feels energy start to build under her skin, hot and itchy.

“She should recover quickly. She’s been hurt a lot worse.”

Ava snaps her head back to look at Camila, both eyebrows up and mouth open a little disbelievingly. Because yes, Bea is going to be fine, but this nonchalance? About getting hit by a car? Nope. Nope. Nope. How is Ava supposed to leave, like, ever if this is how her girlfriend and her best friend approach what looks like one step down from vehicular manslaughter? Fine. Jesus Christ.

“Gee, thanks, Cam. Have you been taking bedside manner lessons from Lilith?”

Camila blushes but Ava’s attention is quickly drawn back to Beatrice, who is nodding in agreement with Camila, or trying to. The drugs aren’t doing her any favors on that front, so the movement gets away from her, less decisive and more drowsy and drunken. The effect is something between a puppy trying to keep itself awake and Mother Superion on the rare occasions she stays for game night (or, once and memorably, karaoke) and indulges in one glass of wine too many. Like both a puppy and Superion, Bea begins to sway, eyes closing, and Ava puts a steadying hand on her uninjured shoulder. She gets a grateful smile when Beatrice settles back into the pillow.

As if sensing that she’s about to start again with her questions—which, despite what the two idiots in the room with her apparently think, are absolutely reasonable and pretty fucking chill relative to the information she has—Beatrice says, voice a slightly slurred and incredibly exaggerated mimic of the one she uses when training recruits or doing serious OCS things, “It could’ve been much worse. She wasn’t even going that fast.”

Camila groans and the halo thrums and Ava adjusts on the bed, gentle but unable to stay still any longer.

“It could’ve…” Ava splutters. “She wasn’t…she wasn’t even going that fast?”

Ava hates the word shrill. It’s misogynist as fuck and used to invalidate women’s feelings and police their tone. Bullshit. But she won’t deny that the pitch of her voice is rising higher and higher with each piece of information. She reaches for a metaphor Bea would appreciate. She’s a tea kettle about to go full whistle. She’s a tea kettle about to explode.

She takes a deep breath, counts, exhales. Does it again. Okay. Okay. It’s not helpful for her to blow up. She’s been too hard on Camila. She needs to know what happened and what Bea needs. That’s what matters.

Bea’s clearly working to keep her eyes open. New strategy. She takes the deepest breath yet, presses a very soft kiss to Beatrice’s uninjured knuckles, Bea humming and closing her eyes fully.

“Sleep, baby. I’m just going to talk to Cam. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Sleepy brown eyes blink open at her and she’s nearly pouting and Ava’s got a whole lot of feelings right now, but love pushes to the top easy, easy, easy when she looks at Bea.

“Promise.”

Her voice is calm even if it is still much higher than normal as she looks to Cam and asks, “What happened?”

Camila steps closer, hesitant, and Ava consciously works to relax her shoulders. She says, standing and reaching to pull Camila into a hug, “Sorry I was a bitch. I’m,” she glances at Beatrice, whose eyes are closed again, “I had to take care of all of the baby nuns and I’m a little exhausted and it’s Bea and I just…”

Cam hugs her tighter and wipes a tear from Ava’s cheek. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. She’s fucking tired.

“I understand. It’s okay.”

Beatrice makes a soft noise, and Cam smiles at her fondly. “They gave her more medicine just before you got back. I’m honestly surprised she’s still awake.”

“Mmm.” Ava steps back a little and shakes it out, folds her shoulders back.

“It really was an accident. Beatrice was helping a novice in a drill with a moving extraction, and the driver was a little overeager, and, well, Beatrice got knocked back with some force. She dislocated her shoulder and has some nasty road rash, but, as you can see, they’ve given her medication, and she should recover relatively quickly.” Camila bites her lip for a moment. “I promise she’s okay, Ava. I would’ve called you immediately if anything serious had happened. I’ll always call, even if Beatrice won’t.”

She uncoils a bit more. She knows it’s true. There’s no way that Cam wouldn’t call her or send Lilith to come get her, if things got really bad.

A tiny, sleepy noise escapes Beatrice, and Ava blows out a breath, smiles at Camila. Beatrice is fine. Beatrice will be fine.

She eyes the sling and wonders how long she’ll need to wear it. Bea’s going to hate being on the bench. The newbies are going to hate it, too.

Underneath the totally reasonable anger, she feels almost bad for whoever it was who hit Bea. She’s pretty beloved, even if she won’t admit it, and it’s no secret that Ava can be a little, uh, overprotective. The kid’s probably having a rough time.

“I know we’re avoiding another Yasmine situation, but clearly there’s some work left to do on teaching the novices left to drive.”

Camila frowns and begins to respond, but they’re interrupted by the familiar hiss of Lilith’s arrival, the black wings folding behind her a ridiculous contrast with the bulging M&S bag in her hand, the top of a green Colin the Caterpillar box peeking out of the top. Ava bites back a smile. What a fucking softie.

She lets go of the glamour that she wears in public, her skin mottling with scales as she removes her sunglasses. She reels back slightly when she catches sight of Ava but recovers quickly, thrusting the bag out in front of her without a word. Ava takes it, catches sight of candy and biscuits and a tin of fancy tea.

“Thanks, Lil. She’ll be excited about these.”

Her eyes turn to her shoes, black boots identical to Bea’s favorites, says gruffly, “How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be fine.”

Camila smiles at her and Ava lifts a shoulder, moves to unload the bag on the table next to Bea’s bed. Beatrice, apparently still awake enough to notice Ava’s presence, reaches a hand out and rests it on Ava’s thigh, whispers something that Ava is almost totally sure is nonsense. She doesn’t try to decipher, kisses her cheek before before going back to her mission, rifling though the considerable stash Lilith brought and beginning to pull things out.

“You’re being much calmer about this than I anticipated.”

Ava snorts and looks up at Lilith, whose eyes are focused on the injured side of Beatrice’s face.

“Yeah, no. I lost my shit for a bit there. Cam took the brunt of it.” She turns her eyes to Camila. “Sorry again.”

There’s not enough room on the table for everything—Lilith really wasn’t fucking around—so Ava prioritizes Bea’s favorites.

“Like, I’m obviously not delighted and I’m definitely going to have a talk with Bea about when to call me, say, for example, when she gets hit by a car, but she’ll be okay.” She tucks what won’t fit on the table into the little drawer below and brushes some of Bea’s hair back. “Also, stoned Beatrice is super cute.”

Lilith’s shadow falls across Bea’s body, and Ava turns to see the sharp line of her jaw clenched, her eyes scanning Bea’s body and lingering on her shoulder.

“It really was an accident.”

It’s said absently, her voice soft as she leans even further forward to tuck a corner of Bea’s blanket a little tighter around her. Ava’s stomach swoops with fondness, and she reaches her own hand out to squeeze at Lilith’s bicep, black scales and warm skin a strange contrast on her palm.

“Yeah, Cam told me. It’s fine. I mean, someone’s getting a talk from me, because what the fuck, but…”

Ava halts at a hum from the bed. Beatrice is clearly just on the edge of consciousness, eyes straining open before fluttering closed again, words barely coherent. Barely coherent, but coherent enough.

“Don’t be mad, love. Lilith is usually a very good driver.”

[captainmera]

THE GOLDEN BROTHER - GRIMWALKER

*lays down and dies* _(┐「ε'':)_ .....

[fagbearentertainment]

Finds a really good and interesting sounding fanfic

A ship I despise plays a major part in it

[fizzledlines]

early morning before school :)

I wrote a lumity fic inspired by this comic I drew 😳

It's got fluff, mother & daughter-in-law bonding time, hurt/comfort and lumity kisses, so anything a gay person could ask for really.

You can check "Packed Lunch" here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42579861

[sisterdivinium]

It's Jillian who notices they've been noticed first, so it's Jillian who disentangles herself from Suzanne and promptly restores the buttons of her shirt to their rightful places.

Mother Superion turns around at her urgent, silent signal to find a paralysed, slack-jawed sister Camila gaping at the two of them just as a shy, devious little kiss shared behind a church column had grown deeper and dangerous.

As Jillian adjusts her collar, Superion reaches for her veil, as if it could hide her blushing.

“Camila, I… We can explain —”

But the young nun just smiles, overjoyed.

“I knew it!”

[runemyth0]

Walnut Season Chapter 10

Hooty helps Luz, Hunter, and Vee, whether they want it or not.

[Start at the beginning]

[starsfic]

owl house au where everything is the same except Luz is a toddler and Camelia has to learn magic instead of Luz

She was uneasy about this.

The last two humans that had walked in? One had accepted his gifts without question, enjoying life on his corpse without a care. The other had seized them and now ruled over his corpse with a bloody fist.

Still, she looked at the new humans, and her heart ached, just a bit.

They were a mother and child. The mother looked around the world with wary eyes, her first priority ensuring her child got shelter. The Owl Witch had allowed them to stay. He wasn't sure why the mother didn't want to return to her world, the portal was there, but he didn't question it.

The daughter made her melt.

She loved King, barely out of his egg. His son's name was not the one they had picked out, but it suited him. Despite being barely older than him, she was careful with him and he with her. She would rock him to sleep, if her mother or the Owl Witch didn't step forward fast enough, and kiss him goodnight before going to bed herself. It all reminded him of his older children, the ones who had gotten old enough to take care of some of the younger ones, before he had lost them all.

She loved her son, and it was enough to make her love her.

So, maybe Camila Noceda could earn his gifts, enough to protect her daughter.