#puts a whole new spin on U-Haul lesbian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daisychainsandbowties · 10 months

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thinking about how groups in isolation grow close with rapidity, develop bonds and rely on each other for physical comfort at the same speed with which lesbians U-Haul, and so you shove a bunch of queer girls into a socially isolated situation like Cat's Cradle and they develop a shorthand, they seek each other out for the quiet touches they can't get from family or friends anymore, they collapse into cuddle puddles in the grass after training and braid each other's hair and hold each other close and watch each other die

Help I’m thinking about this post and shanmary signing to each other and the implications of that across the whole OCS.

Shannon sitting cross-legged with Beatrice in the afternoons when they’re both exhausted from training, walking her through the movements and the syntax and the variations on each sign.

Bea and Shannon use it when Shannon finally persuades Beatrice to be her lookout while she pranks Lilith.

The tall, intimidating figure who catches Bea the first time because she’s too distracted by conspiratorial grins and Shannon touching her arm as she sprints down the hall.

“Come on!” but Bea’s still fresh to the OCS, and this request is absent the snap of command that usually shadows Shannon’s voice.

In a flurry of dark hair and angry eyes she finds herself pinned to the wall by Lilith, her nails bloody from climbing the drainpipe after Shannon emptied a bucket of water down onto her from the window above.

Stunned by that touch, unmoving. Lilith, who quirks an eyebrow, “Not even going to put up a fight?”

Shannon signing to get Bea’s attention when she’s on the verge of a panic attack. Naming sensations and they’re variations on “i can feel you. i can hear you.”

“you’re here.”

Beatrice with all her languages learning this new one from Shannon and also a separate language of touch. She’s so remote at first, flinching from everything but fists, until Mary pulls her aside and makes her play stupid hand-dexterity games that leave her palms stinging and her face flushed.

Sometimes, Lilith catches her under the chin with her fingers as she walks by, a silent “chin up” reminding her she’s a warrior now, not a disgraced daughter.

Mary bracing Bea with her arm when they stumble out of a tear-gassed room, palm over Bea’s mouth because fuck knows what they put in those cannisters, fuck knows if it might be lethal in high doses.

Beatrice learns to do these things in return, turning her head into Lilith's chest when the field medic takes her gloved hands out of someone’s chest and asks for the time. Lilith's mouth, warm on her temple, she who never looks away.

Helping Mary clean the guns and butting shoulders as they work, sharing Mary's earbuds. Beatrice only nodding cryptically when Mary asks if she likes a particular song - in her head thinking ‘I like you. the song’s just noise we’re both hearing.’

Shannon and Bea mirroring their movements with the bō, wordless competitions for who can spin it the longest without dropping it. Bea watching Mary and Shannon sit out on the grass, Shannon with her arms around Mary as Mary sits bracketed by her legs, pulling up blades of grass with a complicated expression.

Bea signs on the days she doesn’t want to speak. Lilith teases that she’s one of those silent nuns who only speak to god (but gently, gently) thumb tucked under Bea’s chin as she checks a graze on her cheekbone. Bea, transfixed by Lilith’s tight, concerned frown.

A dry, “Oh yes, how astonishing that someone might give a shit about you” from Lilith before she notes Beatrice’s stricken expression, squeezes her shoulder and makes an odd, abortive motion like she wants to brush her lips over Bea’s forehead, but thought the better of it.

Mary who won’t learn Spanish but picks this up, if not with ease then with determination, with renewed fervor when Shannon gets the halo. Looking to her ears for the telltale trickle of ruptured eardrums before dropping back to this, their shared voice.

And this, too, is how they learn to die.

Beatrice fixing the straps on Lilith’s vest, tugging them tight so the armor won’t collapse into a puncturing shape at the point of impact. Lilith letting her do it - the routine is like with a hazmat suit or a space suit. Check your own, check someone else, and let them check you.

“You look ridiculous in that hood, like a worm.”

“Thank you Lilith.” As Bea tightens the last strap, smooths it flat. Her hand lingers so Lilith takes it. Why not?

“Don’t die tonight, okay?” Lilith pauses. “I refuse to attend a vigil mass for a worm.”

Beatrice bites back on something. Lilith knows what it is, knows what she looks like, has wrestled Shannon over it and scowled at Mary - “Wow Lil, now you match your personality. A dickhead.”

All the stupid little nerd says is, “I’ll see you in the van.”

And she does, but it’s with Shannon’s blood on her hands, the divinium in her body casting little lights on the ceiling of the van, like glow-in-the-dark stars. Lilith’s eyes roaming in the rearview mirror, both hands busy on the wheel, as Shannon coughs on a mouthful of blood and switches to her hands.

They shake, fluttering out their meanings as street lights switchback in over the tense shape of Lilith’s shoulder.

“Hey,”

Beatrice wants to clutch her hands but she wants the words, too.

Her voice breaks around the response, so she mirrors, like they’re doing forms on the grass, like they’re home.

“Hey.”

#warrior nun #sister lilith #sister beatrice #shannon x mary #‘anon’#as ever. i was provoked #casper writes

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