#fuck beatrice sparks
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I’m thankful Unmask Alice took the time to tell Alden Barrett’s life story because it’s important to remember that he was a real person who’s life was exploited so Beatrice Sparks could write her shitty “real life” Satanic Panic novel.
#i've been angry at her on alden barrett's behalf since i learned the story in 2018#and now that i'm reading unmask alice i'm even more angry#he was a real boy who committed suicide and his grieving mother thought beatrice sparks could help#and that evil bitch fucked them over#fuck beatrice sparks#jay's journal#alden barrett#unmask alice#go ask alice
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I think I figured out a while ago that the part of being raised Evangelical Christian that fucked me up the most was the aspect that your thoughts are constantly being monitered by god. A close 2nd was the very commonly expressed idea that giving your life to god would make you very happy, with the underlying idea that if you were unhappy then god did not love you.
#it's hard to explain but i feel like my early teen years were a constant cycle of 'giving my life to christ'#and failing to live up to it (because i remained unhappy and looked at material to do with sex mainly)#interesting sidebar- we don't really have Beatrix Sparks books in the uk but i have become kind of fascinated by them#due to listening to a lot of podcasts about them#oh fuck i meant beatrice sparks sorry#anyway it seems like her books follow a similar cycle of ambiguously or explicitely mormon characters#constantly doing sinful things followed by a return to the fold followed by another backslide etc on and on#i'm not mormon clearly but that cycle seems very familiar#also the characters are all teenagers and all the things they are interested in doing are 'sins'#some of which are portrayed as fun and attractive to do! so yeah#god i still remember the fucking christian rock concerts followed by the 'are you REALLY given to christ?' guilt ridden talk#fuck me :(#it's hard to shake off these damaging ideas especially as evangelical christianity massively rewards credulousness
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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."
#warrior nun#mywn#myfic#sister beatrice#ava silva#ava x beatrice#avatrice#if you saw me butchering the pulsar metaphor no you didn't#still getting a hang of writing Ava POV
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"Can you ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?"
When Ava says it, half-leant out of her seat and tilted toward Beatrice, what she’s aiming for is smooth. What actually happens is that her elbow, precariously planted on the table in front of them, skids across a patch of unidentifiable liquid (it’s probably beer) and she tumbles straight out of the chair. Right at Beatrice’s feet.
“Uhm.” How is it possible for Beatrice to be this pretty from any and all angles? Is it a skill? Does it come naturally? Ava doesn’t know, but it shouldn’t be allowed. It shouldn’t even be legal. “Did it hurt now?”
“Oh my fucking God, do not encourage her.” A strong set of hands slides under her armpits and Ava is hoisted back onto her seat. “Worst. Pick. Up. Line. Ever.” Mary jabs a finger into her sternum as punctuation for each word. “Like, seriously. Do better.”
“Excuse me, that was a very good pick up line. The best pick up line that ever was.”
“Only if you want your audience’s ears to bleed.”
“Well, clearly, you’re not the target audience, are you?” Ava reaches for the bottle she’d been drinking from, but it’s already empty. She could up her game if Mary gave her pointers. She’s seen old videos of her with Shannon — how easily Mary could make her laugh. Their chemistry was off the fucking charts.
As for her and Beatrice — Ava has no clue where they stand. Sometimes it feels that they’re a spark away from deflagration in the best possible way, but then she’ll say or do something stupid and end up like a character in one of those old cartoons she and Diego were sometimes allowed to watch on VHS on Sunday mornings; lab coat burned to kingdom come and eyebrows singed right off.
“Did you say pick up line?” Beatrice interjects, and there’s an odd lilt to the words, as if something far too big to be contained got stuck inside her throat.
“Christ.” Mary rolls her eyes. “I can’t do this sober.”
“Do? Do what?”
“This— whatever you two have going on, that you’ve not been talking about.” Mary waves a hand in the empty space between them, but her eyes are scanning the bottles strewn all over the table for more booze. There’s probably some rule against drinking in a convent, and Ava is pretty certain Mother Superion would enforce it if she knew how the six of them have been spending their evening, but Mother Superion has been called away to help elect another Pope (do they ever run out of those?), and Camila — the only person with a lick of sense left in the group — forgot to bring any.
“What—” No mistake, this time. Beatrice is trying and failing to swallow. “What do you think we have going on?”
“Don’t ask me — ah!” Mary holds up an unopened bottle of vodka, triumphant. “Ask her.”
“Oh.” Lilith crows from the shadows. “This is going to be good.”
“This is going to be private.” A small riot breaks out at the announcement, but Mary rounds the others up with quick efficiency and herds them for the door. “Come on all of you. No, Camila, you can’t stay and watch. I don’t care about posterity.” Camila argues back something. “Ava can write her own damn warrior nun journal. Yasmine, quit staring or I’ll—”
The rest of the threat is lost down the hallway and it doesn’t take long for their steps to recede.
Everything is quiet. The late evening fills with unspoken undercurrents. There’s a thickness to the air that is not due to the lingering heat of summer. It presses down on them with the beloved weight of a favorite blanket wrapped around the body a bit too tight.
All of a sudden, Ava is stone cold sober. She really really really wishes Mary had left the bottle behind.
“Ava?”
Sounds are supposed to break a prolonged silence, but Bea’s voice, small against the vastness of the night, only enhances it. When Ava dares look, Bea is leaning forward, her cheeks suffused a lovely red as though she’s just sat down after a run. Only one of the overhead lights is still on, and they exist in its tight circle, the darkness beyond alive with the things Ava knows that she already should have said. “Ava, what did Mary mean? What — what does she think is between us?”
Bea wets her lips, and Ava’s gaze is instantly drawn to the motion. Something molten pulses outward from the halo, pooling in her gut. Lower, like the glimpse she inadvertently got of Bea’s tongue somehow directly interlaced with her nerve endings — open flame to tinder — and set everything alight.
She’s faced dozens of demons, held her own against a fallen angel hell bent on world dominion — she’s been to a whole different realm, goddammit — but she doesn’t have the guts to simply bridge the gap and kiss Beatrice again.
With difficulty, Ava drops her eyes to where Bea’s hands are resting. They’re so familiar now. The callouses from training. The array of small scars across the knuckles where flesh has been torn and healed so many times it is pale, almost translucent, against the darker canvas of Beatrice’s sun-kissed skin. Reaching out, Ava takes Bea’s right hand in both of her own, traces from scar to scar with the tip of a finger as if drawing constellations. Under her touch, Beatrice is shaking badly, or maybe it is her.
She doesn’t think it matters.
“Ava?” Beatrice says her name the way she’s said it hundreds of other times. Sweetly, a bit uncertain. More than a little scared. Expectant.
Ava takes one big breath and —
“Iminlovewithyou.”
— she wants to kick herself.
First because she’s never meant to say it now. Second because she’s never meant to rush it out in such a way. Barebones. No preamble. She had given a much better speech when she’d said what she’d supposed where her goodbyes inside of Adriel’s inverted church. That moving line about the warrior nun duty, and Beatrice living her life, all tied neatly together with that final in the next that Ava had managed to force out despite the well of tears inside her. It was all very romantic in a tragic sort of way.
Shit. What if she can be romantic only when she’s dying? That would fucking suck.
But she can’t take it back now. The sentence just burst out of her in a single breath, the same way power blasts from her when she overexerts the halo. And Ava may have made a grab for Beatrice’s hand to have something to hold on to, but now Bea, too, is gripping her fingers tight, and they’re two ships caught in the same storm, fighting not to let the other slip away from sight.
“I love you.” Ava repeats, slower this time. “And I’ve loved you since the Vatican. I’ve loved you since before that, actually. Since I got my stupid foot stuck inside the stupid wall in Mother Superion’s stupid office and you talked me out of it.”
“Ava…”
“And that’s why I’m always acting like a fool. Otherwise I’d have to stop and self-analyze, you know? And then, I’d have to talk to you about it, and what if you don’t love me back? I mean, I know you do, friend-like, but if you didn’t love me love me I think I would be really sad and—” Her shoulders sag. “But I guess the cat is on the table now, uh? It’s okay if you don’t love me, by the way. Like I said, I’m just going to mope for a while but I’ll--”
“Ava, stop.”
“— be okay, you don’t have to worry — oh.” Did Beatrice say stop? “Did you say, stop?”
Crap. Beatrice doesn’t want to hear more of her hastily crafted (held together by a hail mary, a safety pin and hope) love confession. Double crap. Beatrice is smiling, so bright and wide that it reaches all the way to her eyes, crinkling them at the edges.
“You’re smiling.” Ava points out, utterly invested in her role as captain obvious.
“Yes.”
“Is it a good thing?”
“I’d say.”
“Oh.” Beatrice gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “So this means—”
“That I feel the way you feel. And I guess I didn’t say where you could hear for pretty much the same reasons.”
“But you said it? Before, I mean?”
“Yes.” A cloud settles over Beatrice’s face, and Ava regrets asking. “After you went through the portal. It took a while for the others to get to me so I sat there and I said it, over and over.” Beatrice draws in a steadying breath that seems to go on forever. “I was hoping you could hear me.” Her smile returns, but tempered. “So, you see, you’re not the only fool around here.”
“I can hear it now.” Ava’s heart is thumping so hard and fast against her ribcage she wonders whether the halo will have to heal a bruise. “You know, if you wanted to say it.”
Beatrice closes her eyes. Opens them, and an army of Tarasks could march through the refectory this second, Ava would not give them the time of day.
“Ava Silva,” Beatrice begins, incredibly steady. “I’m in love with you, too.”
***
“So,” Beatrice asks her later, in what Ava is sure is the best interest of open and healthy communication. “Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”
“No.” Ava nuzzles into Bea’s naked shoulder, arm draped loosely around her waist. “Because you were already there to catch me.”
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avatrice fic: how shall i speak of doom [1/3]
At the end of the fucking world, Beatrice is beautiful.
Not in that pseudo-glamorous way vampires always are when they’re the subject of movies and television shows, or the gothic elegance of how they’re described in books, but in a simple, effortless way that makes Ava’s heartbeat feel at home a little too close to the surface of her chest. To Ava, the entire apocalypse is a vivid, vibrant neon, from the city's kaleidoscopic street signs to the complicated collision of elements that spark inside of her body whenever Beatrice runs her tongue over the edge of a fang, or laughs at one of her stupid jokes, or brings her lips to the delicate skin of Ava's wrist and drinks.
If you want my blood this badly, Beatrice, Ava says with a smirk, you can earn it.
[vampire au! chapter one! 13k! post-apocalyptic cassette futurism! blood sex death power! rated e.]
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Avatrice + soft mornings
Today's prompt comes in the form of a Band AU deleted scene. This takes place the first winter after they get together and Ava is in her final year of university. They've been a couple for about 7 months by this point. (Yes I did read the prompt, you have to trust the journey on this one):
Sleep had become a problem.
Every waking moment, Ava’s brain was occupied by assignments, exams and performances. When she wasn’t thinking about her to-do list, she was obsessing over what had already passed. Things she could no longer control, nothing to do but wait for the results.
She had spent the night on the phone to Beatrice, hoping and praying that her mind would settle enough to let her rest. They talked for hours, until the yawns from the other end of the line could no longer be ignored.
It worked a little - she managed to get a few hours before her body woke her up in a flash of anxiety. She had given up trying to go back to sleep and now sat by her bedroom window, huddled up in a hoodie. Too many weeks had passed for it to smell like Beatrice anymore but she still found comfort in it.
Outside, the sloppy remains of snow began to reflect the barely rising sun. It looked so peaceful and quiet out there, like the world itself was asleep.
The boys were staying at Michael’s mum's house for a bit while she recovered from a broken ankle. The house had been so empty. So lonely.
She had Beatrice to talk to, and it helped, but it wasn’t enough. There was no one here for those little everyday interactions. The things you take for granted until they’re gone. Someone asking how your day was when you get home; asking if you want a cup of tea made because they’re popping the kettle on; checking to see if you need anything from the shop; showing you a meme that made them laugh over breakfast.
It was hard enough to be in a long-distance relationship but she hadn’t realised just how much of a buffer the boys had been. Now she feels it like a gaping hole. So many little things that could be easily soothed by a squeeze of the hand, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, now spill over until she’s crying at nothing.
The distance itself wasn't even that much. They were both just so busy striving to achieve their own goals. Objectively, they were both killing it. Ava was acing uni and Beatrice’s band was starting to really gain traction. Somehow, that did very little to ease her mind.
Maybe it was because the exam period had just ended and she was exhausted. Maybe it was the short, dark winter days that embedded themselves so deeply in her soul, it felt like she may never feel the sun's warmth again. Maybe it was that she would lay down at night and curl in on herself so tightly just so that she wouldn't be able to feel the empty space beside her.
"Fuck, I miss you." A quiet sob shakes her as tears gather in her eyes.
She hears the tiny pitter-patter of paws approaching from behind and Watson jumps into her lap, nuzzling a damp nose into her hand.
She smiles through another sob as she strokes soft fur, feeling the warmth of it and the low rumble of a purr spark a light inside her chest.
There's a knock at the door and they both jump at the sound. Ava looks over her shoulder, curious and confused. It's far too early for visitors.
She makes her way downstairs, not caring that she's still in pyjamas. Anyone who has the audacity to disturb people this early in the morning can deal with her boxer shorts and pokemon shirt.
There's another light tap at the door as she fumbles with the lock. "Alright, geez, I'm coming, keep your -"
The words die in her throat as she swings the door open to a familiar face beaming back at her.
"Bea?"
"Morning, Sunshine."
She surges forward, her bare feet on the frozen ground, and flings her arms around her girlfriend's neck. She buries her face into Beatrice's shoulder as the tears start to flow in full force.
Beatrice holds her tightly for a moment before gently guiding them into the house and closing the door - Ava stays clinging to her with everything she has, somewhere in the back of her mind grateful to be out of the cold.
A few minutes pass before Ava can get herself under control and she leans back. "What are you doing here?"
"I brought doughnuts," Beatrice replies, holding up the brown paper bag in her hand with a smile. Ava looks at it blankly. Beatrice brings her other hand up to her cheek, wiping gently at the tears. "The way you were last night…I had to come."
"I missed you." It's all Ava can manage to say.
"I know, darling. I missed you too." Beatrice pulls her back in, a hand guiding Ava back down to her shoulder. "So much."
Minutes pass as Ava sinks into Beatrice’s embrace, breathing in deeply the smell of home.
"Come on," Beatrice says as she starts to move them. "We can have these in your room."
Ava leans back then to catch her gaze, a small smile finally breaking through. "Food in bed? Who are you and what have you done with Beatrice?"
Beatrice chuckles and Ava feels the warm, delicate sound begin to mend something in her.
They settle down in bed - after Beatrice grabs a couple of plates - and Ava finally starts to relax a little. Finally starts to feel how truly tired she is.
She has three doughnuts to Beatrice's one and then they lay back against the headboard. Ava slowly traces the lines of Beatrice's tattoo with her hand and feels the shiver that runs down her spine.
"Do you want Pikachu?" Beatrice asks, leaning over to grab the plushie from the side of the bed.
"No, you cuddle him. He missed you too."
Beatrice laughs again but she makes no objection, tucking the toy under her other arm.
"I brought a couple of my jumpers for you to keep. The extra soft ones." Ava has made no secret of her love for wearing Beatrice's clothes.
"I love you," Ava replies sleepily, her eyes feeling heavy.
"I love you," she hears Beatrice echo before she drifts down into a kind of peaceful slumber she hasn't experienced in weeks.
When she wakes, hours later and the winter sun is streaming weakly through the window, she shuffles and feels the warmth of her love still tucked up beside her.
Beatrice has an arm around her, stroking her hair in a soothing, repetitive motion. Her safest place in the world.
"You're still here," Ava whispers.
Beatrice tightens her hold and leans down to place a soft kiss to the top of her head, "Whenever you need."
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Again - Avatrice training AU
[Beatrice is tasked with pushing Ava to her limits and test how she manages her emotions. Ava can barely manage her emotions.]
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“Again.” Beatrice’s voice echoed through the empty training hall.
“Beatrice…” Ava all but begged, one hand in her knees to keep her steady as she panted, while she ran the other through her sweaty forehead.
“Again.” Beatrice repeated, and though Ava kept telling herself that it was her job, she couldn’t help but be annoyed.
It had been two hours since training was over and, to no one’s surprise, everyone but Ava was dismissed. Two hours where Beatrice had her perform the same exact series of moves on her.
It was like a slow, but painfully demanding dance: Ava would use the training stick to strike Beatrice’s left side, then a kick to her right, both promptly blocked by Beatrice in the same rehearsed, effortless way. Then, Ava would get a blow to Beatrice’s left leg that didn’t even seem to tickle her, using the momentum to position herself behind Beatrice and jam the stick between her legs, pushing her down to the floor.
“Bea-” she tried again, going for a more playful tone this time.
“Again.” Beatrice repeated, throwing the training stick at Ava, who barely managed to catch it before it hit her straight in the face.
So she did.
Before Beatrice had time to set herself into her perfect defensive stance, Ava attacked, putting all of her remaining energy into every move, hoping it was enough to convince Beatrice that she had mastered it.
Beatrice fell with a thud into the mat, as she had for the past couple of hours. Still, despite being the one getting the short end in this training session, —her right leg aching so much after an hour that she had to ask Ava to go for her left— she stood up and nodded.
“Again.”
“You can’t be serious.” Ava said, letting out a disbelieving laugh. “We’ve been at it for over two hours.” Beatrice only arched an eyebrow in response, as if to challenge her. “It’s was perfect, what more do I need to do?”
Ava used this time to stretch around her aching limbs, aware of how useless this back and forth would be, yet still holding onto the hope that Beatrice was as exhausted as has was.
“You are not to decide if it’s perfect or not.” Beatrice retorted, sounding a lot harsher than she intended to.
“So what? We stay here until you get tired? Until you decide it’s over?” Ava took a step towards her, hitting the stick against the mat as she spoke.
“Again.” Was all Beatrice said in response, yet it was enough to spark something in Ava that she rarely felt towards her.
“Again.” Beatrice repeated, even after Ava had landed a particularly hard blow to her leg.
As soon as Beatrice was on her feet, Ava attacked again without warning, giving her little time to recover. Still, Beatrice managed to block everything she was supposed to, and even avoid falling at the end. This only prompted Ava to attack her again, harder yet more sloppy, just as Superion had predicted.
Another half hour passed, with Ava’s attacks becoming weaker and messier, to the point she even failed to land a couple of blows despite the hours of practice and Beatrice’s willingness to take them.
“Fuck!” Ava threw the stick across the room, the Halo on her back glowing brightly through her shirt and making the other props in the room shake.
“Again.” Beatrice’s voice now sounded foreign to both of them, like a mantra neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
“Beatrice!” Ava inched closer to her, glaring down at her instructor despite the height difference in Bea’s favor. She noticed Beatrice’s hair was still perfectly tucked into its bun and she somehow didn’t have a trace of sweat, contrasting heavily against her own messy hair sticking to her forehead, drops of sweat trickling down her jaw.
“Again.”
Ava pushed her back and swung at her, despite not having the training stick. She tried for her left side, then the right side, then a kick to her leg, a punch to her stomach and another kick to her side, but they were all swiftly blocked by Beatrice, though not without effort. Of course, this did nothing to appease Ava’s rage, if anything, it only made it worse.
Beatrice was fully aware that Ava had reached her limit, that she was doing nothing but make it worse, but that was exactly what Superion had asked of her and, despite how much it pained her to see the anger in Ava’s eyes directed at her, she decided to push her just a little further.
“Are you done?” She said once Ava step back, panting loudly.
“Are you done?” Ava challenged. Beatrice walked off the mat and, for a second, Ava thought she’d done it: she beat Beatrice at whatever game she was playing. Her satisfaction disappeared, however, as soon as Beatrice turned around, training stick in her hand.
“Again.” She threw the stick at Ava, but instead of catching it she dodged.
“No.”
“Again, Ava.”
“No!” Ava yelled, and the ground beneath them quaked, strong enough to make it hard for them to keep their balance.
Beatrice’s flinch was almost imperceptible, had it not been for how Ava’s eyes never seemed to leave her.
“No,” she repeated, softer this time. “I don’t know what you expect to get from this, but I’m done.” Ava finalized, already heading for the door.
“So you’re just giving up?” Though Beatrice’s voice was stern and challenging, Ava could feel her waver, feel the slight hesitation, maybe fear, in her words, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.
“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Ava turned around, hurt flashing through her eyes long enough to make Beatrice feel like crumbling down on the spot.
Was this what Superion wanted?, to have Ava despise her? To have her loose the one person she could rely on?
“Ava!” Beatrice called, grabbing her arm before she could leave. “I get that you’re upset b-“
“I’m not upset, Beatrice.” Ava replied, shaking her hand off her arm. “I’m fucking tired.“ she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Please, can’t we just call it a day?” She pleaded softly, getting an understanding look from Beatrice.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.” Beatrice repeated, sounding as exhausted as Ava. “I’m sorry, Ava, but we have keep going. I have to see you through this.” She added the last bit after a beat of silence, mostly for herself to hear.
“Through what?” Ava laughed in disbelief. “It’s just one stupid fighting move, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”
“No, but you can try.” Beatrice retorted, regretting her words as soon as they left her.
“You think I’m not trying? “ Ava’s eyes filled with with angry tears, the entire building shaking with each step she took towards Beatrice. “You think this is easy?“
The light coming from Ava’s back became more intense, her entire body shaking with what Beatrice couldn’t decide was pain or anger. Ava’s fists we’re clenched tightly to her sides, her eyes shut as she took a couple of deep breaths before opening them again.
“You’re holding back.” Beatrice stated, her eyes shining with a glint of admiration.
“Of course I’m holding back!” She took a step towards Beatrice, but took three steps back as she felt the heat in her back intensify. “All you care about is technique, there’s no need to use all my strength to body slam-“
“No, I mean-.” Beatrice interrupted, but cut herself short as the words of mother Superion echoed in her head. “You’re right, let’s call it a day.” She conceded, deciding that giving up for the day was better than cracking under the stare of Ava’s eyes and ruining Superion’s training plans.
She took a deep breath, ignoring how Ava’s eyes followed her around the room as she collected her stuff to leave.
“What we’re you going to say?” Ava questioned just as Beatrice walked pass her.
“Nothing.”
“Beatrice.” it was now Ava who took a hold of Beatrice’s arm, her tight grip stopping her just before she could cross the door.
“Do you want this to be over or not?” Beatrice stared back at her, a silent threat hidden in her words.
“I want you to tell me what this is!“ Ava gestured around the room in exasperation.
“I- “ Beatrice looked away, but not before Ava could catch the hint of sadness in her eyes. “I can’t.” She finalized, Ava’s grip loosening as a sign of defeat.
###
[this scenario could perfectly fit into warrior nun itself but I might use it for a fic. I don’t know what fic tho.]
[part 2]
#I have too many ideas I’m just gonna dump them all here.#no context snippet#avatrice au#avatrice#ava x beatrice#save warrior nun#ava silva#warrior nun#sister beatrice#wlw#alba baptista#kristina tonteri young#writing
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Okay so I’m listening to Unmask Alice (v good, highly recommend) and I’m sitting here stunned because here’s the thing
I read Jay’s Journal. In middle school or early high school. I bought it on a whim. I’m pretty sure I still own it. And I went into Unmask Alice a little sheepish just because I remember believing it when I read it, y’know.
EXCEPT I am now to the part where they are recounting the plot of that book and I guess I had more healthy incredulity as a fully faithful sheltered Mormon adolescent than actual adults, because I fully assumed that 100% of the Satanic ritual shit in that book was Jay having like dark fantasies and hallucinations brought on by the drugs. Like never once considered actual Satanism was happening. As a Mormon it seemed obvious to me that Jay’s drug use had triggered some kind of psychosis, or maybe he was just really into LARP or journal roleplay, and his hyper-religiousness caused his fantasy/delusion to have a heavily religious bent.
It never once occurred to me that shit was meant to have literally happened.
So like??? Point for past me I guess??? She was a total square who was willing to buy all kinds of moralizing propaganda but at least she was astute enough to dismiss the possibility that teenagers in Utah were actually contacting the literal Satan. Like the parts I thought were not true were in fact fabricated, just not the way I thought.
Speaking of: fuck Beatrice Sparks for what she did to the memory of that poor boy and the lives of all his loved ones.
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I read the Devil’s Knot, it was good, there were several times I wanted to throw the book across the room.
#that whole case frustrates me#i'm reading unmask alice next which i'm very excited about#i've been wanting to read it for months#fuck beatrice sparks
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fuck it friday
tagged by @bigfootsmom ily
idk what the rules for this are but i haven’t done any fic writing recently so uhh here’s a snippet from an original short story i’ve been working on for like. 8 fucking months now
Thomas held an ice pack to his knuckles at the kitchen table as Jeanie paced in front of him, arms crossed over her chest. She walked the length of the kitchen and back, and then did it again. When she finally stopped, she kept her distance.
“You cannot just go around attacking men in grocery stores,” she started.
“He was asking for it,” Thomas answered.
“Yeah,” Jeannie agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to answer. This isn’t high school, Thomas. Behave like a fucking adult.”
“Tried that. It got my wife killed.” Thomas experimentally flexed his hand. The pain that sparked across his knuckles was warm.
Jeannie let loose an incredulous laugh. “Oh, I see what this is about.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re looking for someone to blame, huh?” Jeannie pushed. “Why was she out there that night, Thomas? Jog my memory.”
“Don’t,” Thomas said, voice low. They stared at each other. The gray light of afternoon stretched shadows across the floor. A drop of water from the melting ice pack slid down the side of Thomas’s hand and hit the table, darkening like an iris. He looked away.
“We never should’ve—” he started, then cut himself off. “She deserved better than us.”
Jeannie stared for a moment longer, face blank. Then she took another step back from him and turned to walk away. “I’m going to call the florist.”
Exhaustion folded over Thomas’ shoulders as Jeannie’s footsteps retreated. Beatrice watched him from the kitchen doorway.
“What am I supposed to do, Bea?” Thomas pleaded. “What do you want?”
She came to him and put a hand on his, leaning over until her hair brushed his shoulders. Dirt scattered. She pressed a cold kiss to his forehead. When she pulled away, her hand left a bloodied streak on his.
He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered hard. When he opened them again, she was still there.
friday is over so i’m only gonna tag a few people but uhh. be nice to me please <3 @gaydiaz @archereddie @nymika-arts @deareddie @icarusbuck
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ava x beatrice + link
Beatrice stirs, feet kicking against the tuck of the sheets at the end of the bed. Her head throbs as she forces herself up and out of bed, the desire to sink back to sleep overrun only by a deeply ingrained habit. She trips over scattered clothes as she crosses the hotel room, swearing faintly under her breath as she staggers, and then she pulls off her pyjamas and steps into the shower.
Water sluices down over her head, ice cold, and she grits her teeth, tries to settle into it as neurons spark into wakefulness. She yawns, gets a mouthful of water, splutters indignantly and receives an eyeful of spray for her troubles. She swipes the back of her left hand across her eyes, something pulling at her skin with the motion.
Something–
Beatrice blinks her gaze clear, holds her hand out in front of her. Stares in shock at the gold band encircling her left ring finger. That can't be–
//
Ava is jolted into wakefulness by a shout. She rolls over onto her stomach, pulls the pillow over her head. Let that be someone else's problem. Please, let that be someone else's problem. The movement is enough to assure her that she's still edging pleasantly on drunk, hasn't quite tipped into hangover territory yet. Mimosas. Yes. Call down for room service and keep the buzz going. Don't think about–
"What the fuck."
The words are flat, even, a hint of a clipped accent to them. Ava pulls her left hand out from beneath her head and waves it in the direction of the voice. "Not now," she groans as warm, damp fingers catch her wrist. She tries to pull away, but the grip is firm, fingers poking and prodding and then spinning something around her ring finger. "Whaddya doing?"
The pillow is ripped unceremoniously away from Ava's head, and she's rolled roughly onto her back, a beautifully irate face staring down at her. "What," the woman says, her voice strangled, "is this?" She raises her left hand, and Ava spots a ring glinting there.
"A ring," she offers lamely.
"Adroit observation," the woman replies sarcastically, brows pinched. She pulls Ava's left hand up, matches it against hers. Ava folds her fingers, tries to link them together, and the woman stiffens. "Why does it match this?" She taps a ring Ava doesn't recognize, a cheap gold band that sits on her ring finger.
"Oh," is all Ava can think to say. And then, after a moment, she dives for the edge of the bed and retches into the wastebasket.
#warrior nun#ava x beatrice#ava silva#sister beatrice#avatrice#ask#the-penguinspy#myfic#mywn#fic: hitched
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Based off Mr frosty the snowman's comment. Read below to decide if this is worth restarting the damn story line around Slugterra with magic and stuff.
“I’m going to start with a very simple question.”
His engine roared, motorbike speeding it’s way across the caverns, Trix scowling as they sped towards the twins. Dumber of the pair shouting back as they chased him.
“LODE!!”
She dragged the blade behind her. Red curled hair boiling back as she strode forward. Anger in her eyes as she strode towards the man, grey skin, body strengthened in the darkness. Burning red eyes meeting demonic yellow.
“Under who’s fucking orders-”
Speeding away, shouting back at his stupid brother. Blakk was gone. Their lives gone, Ma shot dead with whatever That was chasing behind, a strange mechabeast driving towards him. Black bodied helmet, leather clothes, a strange blaster that seemed to shoot slugs of metal and death. Arm bleeding as he continue to ride.
“STOP CHASING ME YA NUB!!!”
Yelping, loud shots ringing behind him, ducking his head as the woman oddly cursed in that weird easterner’s tongue.
Chinese. Something like that, cursing loudly as she sped past the Shane. This new program of Eli’s, it’d been trouble after trouble. Days spent coupled, protecting the caverns had clearly awakened something, turning the criminals into a police force that would have worked with the Shanes to keep the peace. Earn glory and gold through generally legal means. A mad pitch, but the first Shane to defeat several world ending disasters was something nobody could truly dare argue against.
And now? Well, she’d blown her way in, lightning crackling as she shot down an illegal dealing.
My head still ached from whatever impact that weird crystal that’d vanished into nothing she’d thrown to the floor. Revving engines, Eli calling behind me.
“GRA-”
“YEAH YEA-”
She’d managed to shout back, sparks of lightning erupting as whatever weapon she had. A ‘gun’ or pistol, or whatever it was. It didn’t use slugs, Beatrice didn’t hear most of what Eli had said, most of anything didn’t make sense. Sure, they’d saved the world over a period of years. And then a few months. But this had only been a day. Pounding against her skull, body pushing back before she could half hear something.
“OH FUCK ME.”
English. For the first time since she’d arrived, eyes growing wide. Strange woman’s robotised voice cutting through as she dropped the gun to her bike’s side. Popping a wheely, lightning sparking out of the vehicles engine as storm clouds gathered above.
“…”
And now she stood, frozen in place. Head turning to the massive expanse of black stone, the courtyard of the underground holding cell. The coupled up cave system in this small corner of Hell, court standing a few metres aside as she turned to the entrenched fort leader.
“What the HELL did you do?”
Bravado long gone. Birthright in her eyes, the man smirking, snarling as blood rain erupted over one half of the twin.
“What our kind has alway done.”
He replied. The woman shook her head. Releasing her anger, flames erupting at her fingers as she drew her blade back.
“And I’ve long explained that belief is what caused us to fall.”
Locke managed to force his brother to stop, woman loudly cursing as she gripped the encased stone item.
“JESUS FUCKING- OH SHUT THE FUCK- EMARCHINA- CUNT!!!”
And evidently. Whatever it was she tried to do, wasn’t working.
“GUYS…”
The stranger’s bike floated up, item cracking. Red shards expanding into what looked like a circle, my heart sank. Stomach swallowing as Locke stammered out.
“I- That-”
“GO HOME.”
Snarling through her teeth, glaring at the bandit as his thicker headed brother slapped his head.
“I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN THE JOB!”
“H- HEY!”
And then they turned, my head shifted back. I’d seen this only a few times, body tugged back. Letting out a gasp as he managed to mouth out an instruction. Not like I needed one, trees started to uproot themselves, thunder booming as an ancient voice roared out in… French??
Accent cutting through, cursing as flames erupted across and then…
For reference read the following.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/52655824/chapters/133190566
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beatrice is so fucking tragic like.
imagine if you grew up hating yourself for being 'broken', for loving in that way and your parents won't ever accept you and they hate you and you hate them too but you think you hate yourself more and they send you away but the idea of God existing comforts you, almost makes you believe you can wash off the sin radiating off your skin, and demons are real and living among us and so you join the OCS and you find a family, a community there and everything is good and you're teaching and you're learning. and then shannon dies but this new girl shows up and she's a jokester but you can feel the sincerity off her and she's the new halo bearer so you're harden and then soften near her and she cries into your shoulder and a few days later everything goes to shit and your friend is MIA and you have to split away from your family but the halo bearer, your best friend, is here with you so you think you can bear it, and over two months you find yourself falling, falling, falling for her and you think it could even be requited with the way she acts around you but you're never sure enough to make a move and then she falls 13 stories high and when you reach for her pulse there's nothing there and you sob and hold her but she sobs and smiles when you look at her and she's alive, so so alive. your younger trainee who you're protective of tells you what you fear: they never last. and you know this, you do, but you see her floating with a crown and she looks like a real angel and you think hopefully about her words, guess we're gonna have to make history and you convince yourself it doesn't have to. when you try and infiltrate you know the boy there is a bomb and she is the spark and in the fight you see them reach for one another to ignite and though it's their mission to kill the false prophet you cannot bear to see her die. she wants to run away with you but you think about your young trainee and a new girl and how they're gone because of your actions and you can't say yes. a few days later and she's acting strange as they infiltrate the fake angel's base and you have a horrible nagging feeling that she's going to do something and it will ruin you, but worst of all it will ruin her. and she echoes your words, "things change when you realize it isn't always about you" but she is the sun and everything is in her orbit and everything will break if she is not there. you try to stop her but she kisses you and you kiss her back and she tastes like heaven and flowers and then she's left you, but you refuse to let that be the end of the story. you fight your way down to her and you arrive just as she explodes the boy who never got to be and it shatters you and it shatters her. she calls monsters to her and they tear apart the angel and leave at the call of a woman, and she doesn't know anything but you know she's falling in your arms, and you know the light is leaving her eyes, but you cannot bear to let her go, cannot bear to be the one to take out her life force, cannot bear to see her leave, you should've left with her when you had the chance, should've left when she offered her life with you. but there's a way to let her live so you bring her over to the portal and she's trembling and you can see she's scared but she says "i love you." and there's just air when you say "i love you." back at her.
like what the fuck
i’m glad ur seeing why bea is so blorbo shaped oh my god like she had no one and then found a family and then found a love through the hate her past family had taught her and then lost that love and then left that new family to heal i’m going to-
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I lived through the70s and it is impossible to tell people how fucking weird they really were. Unmask Alice starts with a massively popular YA novel sold as nonfiction and the next thing you know there's Richard Nixon, Art Linkletter, Hannah-Barbera...and that's just the first 40 pages.
#go ask alice#ya books#1970s#satanic panic#suicide#Publishing#lies and the lying liars who tell them
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Avatrice: "how shall i speak of doom" by explosivesky (Chapters 2/3 / Explicit/ 25k)
AO3 LINK
Author Summary: At the end of the fucking world, Beatrice is beautiful.
Not in that pseudo-glamorous way vampires always are when they’re the subject of movies and television shows, or the gothic elegance of how they’re described in books, but in a simple, effortless way that makes Ava’s heartbeat feel at home a little too close to the surface of her chest. To Ava, the entire apocalypse is a vivid, vibrant neon, from the city's kaleidoscopic street signs to the complicated collision of elements that spark inside of her body whenever Beatrice runs her tongue over the edge of a fang, or laughs at one of her stupid jokes, or brings her lips to the delicate skin of Ava's wrist and drinks.
If you want my blood this badly, Beatrice, Ava says with a smirk, you can earn it.
#avatrice#ava silva#sister beatrice#ava x beatrice#avatrice fanfic#warrior nun#save warrior nun#warrior nun fanfic#read on ao3#sapphic#fanfic
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this is random but I just got access to a new library with a lot of books so... book rec? 👉👈
asdkjfhsa anon this is my FAVORITE kind of ask, let's go!!!
idk if you're looking for a specific genre so i'll try and spread the recs wide:
"dead silence" by s.a. barnes. horror/sci-fi. i heard this one pitched as 'titanic meets the shining but in space' and it's 100% on point. weird, creepy as hell, plus a really good mystery at the core of the story. i would die for our main girl claire kovalik.
"babel" by r.f. kuang. historical fantasy. also a new addition to my top 5 personal faves tbh. 19th century fantasy england + colonial resistance + student revolutions + language and translation as acts of rebellion = a mixture i needed injected into my veins like yesterday. be warned that it's a slow read, but if that doesn't bother you then the payoff is *chef's kiss*
"unmask alice" by rick emerson. non-fiction, about the real people and real story behind the infamous 'go ask alice' young adult series, and how their lives were exploited and ruined as a result. fuck beatrice sparks forever. may that old bitch rot in her grave.
"peter darling" by austin chant. fantasy. a trans retelling of peter pan. short but fantastic and VERY underrated. honestly this one stuck with me over the years (i think i cried when i first read it lmao). the book was out of print for a while but it was just repackaged and rereleased and the new paperback versions are so cute and small <33
"the art of prophecy" by wesley chu. fantasy. basically takes the 'chosen one' trope and says 'but what if the chosen one was a useless fucking brat and his older female mentor was the actual badass in all of this?' throw in a war, an assassin group, and worldbuilding dominated by asian influences and martial arts. i love this sucker.
"jade city" by fonda lee. sci-fi/fantasy. if 'the godfather' had magic and kung-fu, you'd have this book. it's also the first in a finished trilogy!
"house of hollow" by krystal sutherland. young adult fantasy/horror. i don't even know how to describe this one?? it's weird and dark, about 3 sisters who briefly went missing when they were kids and none of them remember any of it, but weird shit happens around them as they get older and they don't know why. creepy as hell.
i have to force myself to shut up now or i'll just keep going, but feel free to ask for more!! can you tell i love talking about books lmao.
#anonymous#asks#anon i got so excited typing this up that i literally had to pull my hair back in a ponytail to concentrate lmao <3
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