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the-penguinspy · 1 year

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Also, not me not realizing you rbed a prompt post until now :( ONLY if you want to bc I'm like ten years late or smth!

27: I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.” for whoever strikes ur fancy :)

not me, replying, 10 years late as well...thank u for the prompt smo, 'twas truly lovely to write for :)

The living room still smells like the remnants of their breakfast. American-style this morning – maple sausages and fried eggs, waffles and coffee; something Ava had been craving, something Beatrice had given in to.

She’s sated and full, the meal sitting heavy in her belly, and she’d love nothing more than to indulge herself in some mid-morning cuddles with Beatrice, maybe even make out a little bit. Instead, she’s sitting on Beatrice’s lap on the couch, knees bracketing hips. Not a bad place to be in, not at all! But her hands are occupied with a stack of multi-coloured flashcards and she’s studying.

“Bea, don’t we have fake licenses expressly for this purpose? Don’t these rules go out the window when it’s my turn to drive, anyway?”

“You don’t have to take the test, but most of the time we won’t be having dramatic car escapades. You’ll have to learn the rules of the road.”

“I think a little rule breaking is healthy sometimes. Necessary, even.”

Beatrice hums. “You can’t break the rules if you don’t know what they are.”

Ava groans and throws her head back dramatically, Beatrice’s hands coming up to hold her by the waist to prevent her from falling backwards. “I think I'll know when the rules are broken when I get five honks in a row,” she says, addressing the ceiling. “Bonus points for prolonged honks that sound like harmony.”

“Please don’t cause unnecessary grievances for your fellow drivers,” Beatrice says. Ava straightens up at that. Narrows her eyes at Beatrice. She opens her mouth and is about to dispute the accusation when the hands at her waist squeeze hard, once, and the air in her lungs leave her in a stint of breathless laughter.

Beatrice leans in close. “What was that you were going to say?” she asks, fingers digging into Ava’s waist, making her laughter burst out unchecked.

“I said–” Another warning squeeze, and Ava’s cut off as she wheezes. “Okay, okay! I won’t– Bea, stop– I won’t cause unnecessary grievances for my fellow drivers.”

“Thank you, darling.” Beatrice reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind Ava’s ear, smiling when Ava presses a kiss to her palm. She goes back to her stack of flashcards – written by her own hand, thank you very much – reading each question out loud and pairing it with an answer before flipping to the back to check. Beatrice’s hands rest on her thighs, and she hums encouragingly.

Ava scans the newest question. “What should you do – uh oh, this doesn’t sound good – in the event of a fire in a tunnel?” The stack has lessened by half. Cards are scattered beside her on the couch, a few of them making a home between the cushions.

She narrows her eyes and tries to pry the answer from her mind. Step one: don’t get close to the fire, obviously, otherwise the car would explode. Step two: stop the car. Step three: find and use the SOS phone, or get out using the emergency exit. Wait, should she use the SOS phone before leaving for the exit? Maybe someone else had already reported the fire, but then again, what if nobody hadn’t?

She mouths the question to herself silently, fingers itching to turn the card over to get the answer. She squints at the question and traces the words, following the swoops and curves of the lettering, but it’s quite difficult to focus when there’s a more enticing view in her periphery.

Try as she might, but her gaze keeps getting drawn back to Beatrice’s face. In her defence, it’s a very pretty face – Beatrice’s eyes are a rich, dark brown, focus intense on her, and the way the morning light shines on her face makes her freckles stand out; not stars, but still constellations in their own right.

It all falls away, is the thing – the stack of cards is held in front of her and she can see the hard-practiced cursive of her penmanship that graces the paper, but it all melts away in the face of Beatrice’s attention on her. It’s thrilling. Addictive. The answer to the question eludes her, slips out of her grasp, driving theory all but forgotten.

“Ava?”

A huff and a pout, and Ava’s crossing her arms, hand gripped tight onto the cards to keep them from spilling everywhere. “Bea, I can't think when you keep looking at me like that.”

The blush that blooms on Beatrice’s cheeks is so pretty, even now. Ava feels her teeth ache with it. “My sincerest apologies. Let me remedy that immediately,” Beatrice says, the corners of her mouth twitching. She furrows her brows and frowns in mock-seriousness, and shuts her eyes.

Ava privately laments her loss but this, at least, is more conducive to her focus.

She’s about to read the flashcard again to remember what the question was exactly, when she feels calloused fingers gently slide up her thighs. Beatrice’s hands reach the bottom of her cotton shorts, fingers barely dipping underneath the hems, before they rest there. She’s used to the frequency of Beatrice’s tactility now, but her chest still warms whenever Beatrice initiates the contact.

It would have been fine if those hands had stayed, but no – they make their way down her thighs slowly, fingertips dragging, before moving upwards once again with a more pronounced pressure.

Ava’s breath hitches. The smirk that graces Beatrice’s face is indicative that she caught it, her smile growing wider as Ava’s hands migrate to rest on her shoulders. Ava pitches her hips forward to lean into the contact, and she lets out a whine as Beatrice retracts her hands ever so slightly. “You’re such a tease. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me study?”

“I recall that you’re the one who suggested this method of studying,” Beatrice points out. Her tone wobbles slightly, laughter barely held in check, and Ava shoots her a half-hearted glare – not that Beatrice can see it. “Call it a sneak peek,” Beatrice says, “twenty more questions, then we’ll take a short break.”

“Ten.” “Fifteen.”

Ava beams. “Deal. Although, I think I need a little something to help jumpstart the studying process again. You know, to remind me of why I’m doing this in the first place.”

An eye cracks open at that, and Ava flutters her eyelashes for good measure. The coaxing is unneeded, though – Beatrice lets out a quick huff of laughter as she leans in, and Ava meets her in the middle.

The kiss is slow and sweet; a delicious sample of what’s to come. But Ava’s never been particularly good at waiting – she’s harboured an itching sense of impatience ever since the Halo had been embedded onto her back, the feeling only exacerbated by the blue-shifted timeline of the Holy War. Thus, the desire to take life by the reins, to devour its offerings, had become a habit formed quickly by will and necessity. Every facet of life she’d missed out on – she’d wanted it all, had always been hungry for it.

But – the war is over now. The life she’s building together with Beatrice is never going to be snatched away by divine hand, by demons or monsters or duty or sacrifice, not anymore. Ava’s still oh-so-hungry for it, and she can afford to linger now, but still, in moments like these? Where it’s just the two of them, unhurried, where love permeates every breath, every look, every gesture? It’s hers, it’s Beatrice’s, it’s theirs for all time, but somehow it’s moments like these where Ava can’t help but feel the most greedy; can’t help but give in to the urge to take, to hold between the canines of her teeth.

She tilts her head to deepen the kiss, fingers twitching against Beatrice’s shoulders. The hands on her thighs tighten their grip in approval, and the feeling sparks a hot thrill up her spine that disperses rapidly through her veins.

But all too soon, Beatrice pulls back. She doesn’t move far though; her lips ghost over Ava’s chin, her jaw. Ava holds herself still, waits until Beatrice’s mouth brushes against hers in one last kiss. Only then does Beatrice lean back. And only then, in the gift of this space, does Ava let her composure crumble, body and spirit rejuvenating with a harsh and shaky inhale.

“Can I open my eyes now, or will that be too distracting for you?” Beatrice’s voice is low and sweet with the tease, the cadence of her breathing unfairly even; this close, her breaths fall damp over Ava’s lips and taunt her with their proximity, and Ava has to fight to loosen her muscles, to not give in to the chase.

Tempting as always, but – Ava stays strong. She places a small kiss on the tip of Beatrice’s nose, revels in the warmth of her smile and how her eyes crinkle at the corners, before settling in place and returning to her flashcards once more. “Keep them closed, please, or I’ll never learn how to drive normally.”

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #penguin writes #ava after she's gone thru the driving theory and has applied it well IN PRACTICE: ok bea ive been so so so good right? so can you.#can you teach me how to drift-#bea: no.#(reasoning: tyres are expensive. drifting takes practice. the smell of burnt rubber is not a great smell to smell.)#smokestarrules

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birgittesilverbae · 7 months

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“You look like hell." "I feel like it." meathshieldshotgun mayhaps 👀

spideytorch-but-not-this-spideytorch au again

Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit. It's a single main room, barely larger than the hospital room Ava finally got to call her own the year she turned thirteen, when Jillian's staff had moved Diego to the newly-emptied room next to Michael's. No, she can't get caught up on that now, on them, on the lab, on the burst of blue light that had– Spider-Man's apartment is a piece of shit, a sheet tacked up to separate what Ava assumes is a bed from the rest of the area, where a battered couch and coffee table and cloth-shrouded easel vie for space in the scant few feet between front door and fire escape.

Spider-Man watches her with a knowing glint in her eye. "It's not much," she agrees to Ava's unstated opinion, "but it's home. You have one of those to go back to, kid?"

Ava shrugs, tugging her knees up to her chest as she settles against the scratched-up couch arm. She wraps her arms about her legs, hugs them close, and it feels almost alien, the press of legs against arms and arms against legs and the pressure of the rough couch cover against her flesh. It makes her skin crawl, but she tamps herself down against the shudder that tries to break free, finds herself unable to speak.

"If you don't wanna tell me, that's fair enough. You have a name, at least?"

"Ava," she replies softly, rubbing her thumb against the weathered span of denim stretched across her knee. "I'm Ava."

"Nice to meet you, Ava. I'm–" Spider-Man pauses, eyes darting to the side, then shrugs. "In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. My name's Shannon, and I'll be your waitress tonight." She produces a sheaf of glossy pamphlets from behind her back like a magic trick and leans down to fan them out across the coffee table, heedless of the open textbooks she disturbs with the motion. "Anything you want, just give me a head's up so I can call in the order."

"Anything I–" Ava sways forward, gaze caught by the bright shine of the pamphlets. She reaches out her hand, uses her palm to drag one of them halfway off the edge of the coffee table so she can pinch it between thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, Ollie's is great, they always give me an extra serving of rice. Do you like Sichuan?"

"I don't know," she says quietly, stroking the smooth page with her thumb, awed by how easily her skin slides across the sheet.

"You don't know as in you have no preference, or you don't know as in–"

"As in I haven't eaten solid food in a decade," she admits, and her voice is almost steady.

Shannon's grin is easy, as so much about her seems to be. "Let's remedy that, then," she says, and Ava could kiss her for not pushing the topic. "Anything there that looks interesting? Or I could get a selection of things, maybe help you figure out what you like?"

Ava looks from the takeout menu in her hand down toward the mess on the coffee table and back again, the options almost overwhelming in their vastness. "Whatever you want to do," she manages, tossing the pamphlet in the direction of the table and pulling her arm back around her knee.

The pamphlet skids across the table, off the far edge, plunges over towards the floor. A thwip, and it's in Shannon's hand, translucent strands connecting it to her wrist.

She stares. She hadn't been able to make out the mechanism by which Shannon had pulled them from building to building in those long, floating arcs, but she's listened to enough of Diego's excited recountings of news stories to know the consensus was that the webbing came from a gauntlet, perhaps, or a canister. Ava suspects there must be an aspect of costume design built specifically to fuel those rumours, because a puncture in Shannon's skin itself extrudes the strands of web.

She doesn't mean to, but her eyes stay glued to Shannon's forearm long enough that she's caught in the act. Shannon watches Ava watching her and heat floods into Ava's cheeks. She knows better, should know better, can remember how every too long stare had made her feel small, inconsequential, other. "I'm sorry," she starts, but the cloud has already shifted from Shannon's eyes, leaving them bright and clear again.

"It's alright, it's just been a while since anyone new has seen that. I'd forgotten how it must look from the outside."

"No," Ava repeats, because it's important, because she's waved off lingering eyes in just the same way for so long, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't stare."

"It's okay," and there's a hint of a laugh to it now. She gestures towards the second door, the one Ava figures hides a bathroom, with the takeout menu. "I'm gonna go call in the order and then we can talk about it, if you want?"

"Okay. Thank you."

She watches Shannon until the door shuts behind her, then turns her attention back to the apartment. She knows she shouldn't pry, especially not here, not now, not with the kindness and grace Shannon has already shown her in rescuing her from– Don't, she chastises herself. Don't think about Jillian thrusting her arm into the device, don't think about the electric blue energy emanating throughout the room, don't–

A sweet, smoky scent drifts up into her nostrils and she snaps her gaze down to her hand, flat on the couch arm. What had been her hand. A mass of roiling flame attached to her arm, eating at the cuff of her sleeve, crisping the fabric of the couch. "What the fuck," she mutters reflexively, her stomach sinking. She pulls her hand back, waves it through the air, but the fire clings to her skin– Is her skin? "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop."

She focuses on her breathing as she had in that warehouse beneath Shannon's careful gaze, drags the sleeve up her arm with her other hand to protect what remains of it. The flames wax and wane as she glares at them, and she sets her mind towards her hand, towards what she thinks it's meant to feel like.

"As if I know what it's meant to feel like," she says, hysterical. But she tries gamely to picture cool flesh, like all those hands on her forehead for years and years, caretakers too rushed to take a moment to scrub their palms together to imbue them with some fleeting kind of warmth. Cool skin, and whole, and definitely not on fire.

The flames retreat back beneath her skin in the blink of an eye and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead, just to check. Cool against the fever flush of her face. Great. Outstanding. And all it took was torching half of Shannon's apartment.

The fabric covering the arm of the couch has turned black-beaded and stiff, and the sweater sleeve now ends halfway up her forearm, and there's nothing she'd like more right now than to vanish before Shannon slips back into the room with her easy smile and easy gait and easy wave of a hand in response to apologies.

She's not given a chance to make an escape, though, because Shannon's emerging back into the room, shoving her phone into the side pocket of her tights and grinning at Ava before she can even begin to form an explanation. "I'm moving out at the end of the month anyway," she says with a laugh, "feel free to burn the rest of it so I don't have to figure out when our bulk item collection day is scheduled."

"I didn't mean–" Ava starts, stops. There's something painful in her chest, constricting her ribs, and she scrubs a shaking hand over her eyes, draws it away wet. "I don't know–"

"It's okay." Shannon drags the coffee table back from the couch, as far as she can in the cramped space, and takes a seat on it in front of Ava. There's a bare inch of space between her knees and Ava's booted feet, toes sticking over the edge of the couch cushion. The navy fabric plastered tight to Shannon's thighs is decorated with that same reflective web pattern as the boots, picked out in infinitesimally small stitches, and Ava's fingertips itch to brush across it, to feel every twist and turn and bump of the embroidery. "It's okay," Shannon repeats, and there's a barefaced truth in her voice that makes Ava lift her head to meet her gaze.

"I don't know what happened, I don't know what I'm supposed to do–"

Shannon smiles softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "That's alright, Ava. It will come in time."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"Well, one of us has to be," she says, flat as anything.

Ava's throat tightens around a sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just–"

Shannon cuts her off with a grimace, a touch to her foot. "I didn't mean it like that. No wonder everyone tells me I've an abhorrent sense of humour. Powers are a burden, especially newfound ones, but not one I'm going to make you bear alone. I'm calm about this because when I was in your shoes" – her eyes flick down to Ava's feet in her own costume boots and there's a quick twist to her mouth like she's biting back another joke – "when I was in your shoes I felt alone, was alone. But I managed to survive that, and I have complete faith that you will too."

"You don't even know me."

"I know you didn't blow me off when I tried to help you calm down. I know you internalised those instructions and used them to get your powers under control just now. I know you went an hour without setting anything on fire, and then only small patches." Her gaze finds the takeout menus wedged beneath her hip before working back up to Ava's face. "And I think it's fair to assume you've survived much more difficult trials than this."

Ava looks at her hand, splayed across light-washed denim, presses her fingertips into the fabric just to see the way it makes the tendons across the back of her hand press up hard against pale skin. A joy, to move them, to be moved by them. "That's… that's accurate," she allows, digging her thumbnail into the fold of the seam.

Shannon reaches towards her, hand stalling between them, and then she's gone, a blur, sliding smoothly to the front door and opening it, bracing her hands over her head against the frame. Ava hadn't even heard the knock, if there'd been one, and she rocks to the side to try and get a glimpse past Shannon's outstretched shield of a body.

"I didn't think you were coming over today," Shannon says, half on the edge of hearing. "Are you okay? You look like hell."

"I feel like it," a woman mutters. She's standing in Shannon's shadow, the light in the hallway buzzing and blinking and too near dead to properly illuminate her, but then she rocks onto her toes to dart a kiss to Shannon's cheek and there's something familiar in the movement, the careful trajectory of her mouth, the spark in her eyes. "Remind me to get you to vet my next employer," she continues, slipping around Shannon with ease, "so I can have a heads-up on the fledgling supervillain thing. 'Cause you'll never believe the bullshit Salv–"

She spots Ava at the same time as Ava clocks the all-too-familiar shade of scrub pants and stitches together a last few fragmentary memories of those last moments. Eyes widening, breath catching in two chests in unison before the release, the movement, Mary's hand reaching behind her back, a charged thrill shooting up Ava's fingers.

"Mary, this is Ava," Shannon says, sliding between them, a hand pressed to Mary's chest. Her voice is light, in sharp contrast to the tension in her shoulders. "She's not having a great day either."

That's all it takes to defuse Mary, pressing forward into Shannon's palm as though there's nothing else in the universe tethering to this room. "I'll say," she manages to choke out around a hitch in her throat, "seeing how she should be dead. The rest of them are," she continues, shifting to lock eyes with Ava over Shannon's shoulder, "and I saw the hole that you–"

"Jillian Salvius did this?" Shannon interrupts.

"She fucking did something, Shan. With Ava over there, with another kid, with her own son. They didn't tell us shit beyond that, other than 'here's another mess to sweep up, careful, it might be radioactive this time'." Mary pauses, reaches a hand up to touch Shannon's cheek. "How'd you stumble over her? On the way back from the library?" It's clumsy, even to the yawning sound of Ava's ears, you should be dead the rest of them are, like an actor stumbling over their lines.

"She knows," Shannon says dryly.

"Why do I even bother," Mary sighs, "when you just keep dragging in strays and telling them everything and expecting me to help you rehome them. I only have the one couch, and it's already been spoken for."

"They're… They're dead?" Ava interjects, hard, soft, reaching. Diego's grin peeking around the doorframe, Michael's careful strength, Jillian– She doesn't want to think about Jillian.

"They are," Mary says, something raw and aching in her expression, "I'm sorry."

"Okay," she says, "okay." The flame filters into her lungs her heart, ripples hot beneath her skin. She tugs the hoodie over her head in a rush, gasping for air, half-blind with panic.

"Ava–" Shannon starts, shifting towards her, but Mary takes her by the shoulder, holds her back.

"Let her make her choice, Shan." The words are barely audible over the inferno in Ava's chest.

She rises from the couch, keeps rising, midair before them as her fingers turn to flame, her wrist, her forearm. The hospital gown clings tight even as the jeans scorch, burn, flake away in ashen clumps. "I'm sorry," she says, breath scalding in her mouth, and flings herself towards the window, through the rails of the fire escape, spins upwards into the night sky. "I'm so sorry."

#ask #smokestarrules #myfic #mywn #fic: suits #ava silva #shannon masters #shotgun mary #tfw the only thing working for the fic is the prequel stuff that's not actually making the cut for the fic #mary x shannon #i should probably just slap these two together and punt them onto ao3 like here's a prequel for an avatrice fic #that I'm never gonna write bc my brain hates me xoxo

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lilith-clawthorne-appreciation · 2 years

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May I present to you,

her <3

ACCEPTED

HER....<3

#chibi lilith is best lilith fight me #lilith clawthorne #PS. i know shes made a similar face in canon and it's killing me.#was it in separate tides??#i think #smokestarrules #hi!!!!

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ottisbuns · 1 year

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16, 23 and 30 :)

16. I assume the question in the ask game is meant to refer to cars, in which case the answer is no. HOWEVER I do legally have a moped license and can drive that. (Don't do it much though)

23. Had I been asked this even like a month ago I would have cried, screamed, threwed up and died saying I hate anything even remotely cold, but I've come to appreciate it more lately as I've been going on more walks. As long as I can layer up appropriately, it is quite nice.

30. My room is free of dishes, actually, because I am an orderly person who cleans up after myself immediately. <-(Do not believe this man's lies, the only reason there are no dishes is because he only eats sandwiches, which leave no dishes, or proper meals, which he only eats in the kitchen.)

#smokestarrules #waaaaaaaaaaaait #did this get answered as anonymous?#strange #must be because my phone tumblr version is severely outdated

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jazzymusicorn28 · 1 year

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1, 2 and 3 for toh ask game :)

Favorite Episode of Season 1:

This is definitely hard! I haven't watched season 1 in a bit but I'd probably have to say Enchanting Grom Fright or Understanding Willow. When watching the show for the first time, these episodes heightened my love of the show and really got me invested in it. Understanding Willow was crucial to Willow and Amity's development as characters, and the episode has intriguing parallels to Hollow Mind. It also had some of the best lines in the show, the DIALOGUE UGH. So it might beat out EGF by just a small bit, but EGF is still one of my favorites, with the music, its parallels to Reaching Out, Lumity, and the Grom fight scene of course.

2. Favorite Episode of Season 2:

Through the Looking Glass Ruins. Look, I know this episode is not objectively the best quality-wise out of season 2, but it holds special sentimental value to me and is somewhat of a comfort episode. The hype for this episode was real and delivered, and watching the Lumity cheek kiss happen live was a special experience I'll never forget! I loved seeing more of Gus and his characterization, and the Lumity in this episode was so adorable! However, I'm still curious as to whom Edric went on a date with in that episode... My other favorites from season 2 include Clouds on the Horizon, Reaching Out, and Hollow Mind; all those episodes were of outstanding quality, and I loved the plot and relationship developments in each. I also thought about the events that transpired in each of those episodes for days on end as well haha.

3. Favorite Episode of Season 3:

Watching and Dreaming for sure! I absolutely adored it as an episode and as a series conclusion. Eda, King and Luz's reunion, the befriending of The Collector, Papa King, THE fight scene, Philip's death, the flashforward at the end and so much more made this episode spectacular. It was made with so much love and care, and I really could appreciate it with all the clever, intentional details and callbacks left by the crew. One of the best show finales I've ever watched period. Also, long live Lumity! And Hooty will continue to forever perplex me (seriously what was with Papa King's right eye being Hooty??? I need answers)

#Thank you so much for the ask!!!! :D #I really appreciate it :)#the owl house #toh #asks #smokestarrules

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cowboycatd · 1 year

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8, 20 (there is a right answer) 32 and 49 :)

8. How many water bottles are in your room right now?

I'm interpreting this as plastic, disposable water bottles? So zero. I do not buy these. Tap water, my beloved. Reusable containers, my beloved.

20. Do you say soda or pop?

I'll stab you, little smokey. It's soda.

32. Do you have a favorite towel?

Yep, I acquired it at my old workplace! It's got green and white stripes. Perfect thickness to water absorption ratio.

49. Can you skip rocks?

Can people not skip rocks??

#ask #ask meme #smokestarrules #love you

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averagemrfox · 1 year

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Listening to the new version of Worthy that Rooster Teeth posted… people are gonna play that shit at their weddings. Casey really just gave the sapphics our own Tale As Old As Time

#rwby #rwby spoilers #bumbleby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #casey lee williams #someone pointed out how much it sounds like take as old as time and now I can’t unhear it #I think it was smokestarrules that said it sounds like tale as old as time

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sevens-evan · 1 year

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mmmmmmm avatrice with 11? I feel like that could be a cool one

every time i write anything remotely resembling this prompt is based on this one really good chuck fanfic i read like eight years ago. i can't escape that and i'm accepting it. have con artists beatrice and ava

"So, you guys come here often?" Ava says, leaning back in her chair. The men seated around the poker table stare at her. Ava just grins back, waiting for her generally clueless vibe to disarm them. Beatrice, who had gotten herself hired on as a dealer two weeks prior, makes eye contact with Ava as she passes out cards. Nobody else on the planet would be able to divine an emotion from Beatrice's total lack of expression, but Ava is a bit of a self-declared Beatrice expert. She detects vague concern—which is what Beatrice means to communicate, because she can't tell Ava out loud to stay on task—and beneath that, affectionate amusement.

"Few times a week," one of the men says in response to Ava's question. Ava turns her smile on him. "And I never lose, but I could make an exception for you."

"Aw, that's sweet," Ava says. She wants to grimace. They'd looked this guy up before coming here—he isn't their mark, who is, of course, the owner of the casino, but he's close enough to the owner to be relevant to their work. This guy has pretty rough record: divorce, unpaid child support, several counts of disorderly conduct, minor assault, a DUI. "So how does this game work, anyway?" She picks up her cards and starts arranging them in her hand.

Ava tunes out another player's explanation of the rules in favor of running her foot up Beatrice's calf under the table. Beatrice looks at her again. This time, she's glaring enough that an outside observer might pick up on it.

She does not, however, move her leg away.

They play more hands than they were really expecting before someone figures out that Beatrice is helping Ava cheat. They're taken to a back room and left to wait while the police are called. Beatrice, tragically, rejects Ava's request to make out with her and demands that Ava go over the plan with her.

"Cops come," Ava says with an eye roll. "I freak out and take off running when they let us out of the room. I lead the cops into the owner's office, they find his extensive collection of illegal weaponry, we make off with the money and the—whatchamacallit, the gun Lilith wants, in the confusion."

"Do not actually get the gun for Lilith," Beatrice says.

"Sure." Ava is getting the gun for Lilith. "And, duh, don't lose the wig again."

"That's a serious concern, Ava," Beatrice says. "We can never go back to Poland."

"Tragic, really."

"Ava."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Ava says. "I won't lose the stupid wig. Now can we make out?" Beatrice glares at her. Ava wiggles her eyebrows.

"...Fine. Only for a minute."

#avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #warrior nun #my fics #fic: avatrice #smokestarrules-old #answered #didn't really know where to stop this one so i just. did

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imatekuani · 1 year

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Hey, who was saying we missed a chance cause the Collector is a kid and Amity was canonically good with kids? Someone heard you.

#toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers #watching and dreaming #the owl house #toh #hey smokestarrules I'm surprised you're not all over this #amity blight #the collector

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welcometogrouchland · 1 year

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Strategizing my silly show rewatches to see what will produce The Most Emotion in me. And then soundly debating on whether or not that's actually a good idea

#ramblings of a lunatic #I probably think abt this too hard. thats the tism for you!#I'm gonna finish frog show 1b and then probably rewatch some of the willow and amity centric eps of s1 #before starting 2A (but also i might rewatch eclipse lake AGAIN bc i watched it today and got reminded of how good it is-#-and then paused to be like. but what if i enhanced the experience even more)#the willow eps rewatch is in prep to rewatch asias (HELLO FAV EPPY SODE!!!) and as a treat to myself cause i love her-#-and theres so little of her in 2A (willow fans were genuinely the strongest ppl during this time. gus fans 2 but at least they got ttlgr)#BUT I ALSO LOVE AMITY she occasionally posseses my brain but not often! i normally leave the Amity scholarship to others on here #(namely eliot yardsards and smokey smokestarrule bc they have elevated amity opinions)#but i wanna study her like a bug myself sometimes!! eclipse lake reminded me of that. she's not well!!!#plus with some s1 eps back under my belt the blow of how fucking brutal s2B of the owl show is might be somewhat softened #it's my fav stretch of the show tho don't get it twisted. i love the slow build of 2A #AND the sheer marvel of quality despite circumstances that is s3 specials #and yes even the silliest of s1 eps #but 2B is just unbeatable to me personally. best emotions associated with it #but I am finishing s1 of frog show before i get to do All That #and then i might rewatch the rest of frog show to hold me down til the finale airs #tbh rewatching amphibia and remembering how much i love it and how insane it still makes me gives me comfort in the face of toh ending #just because something's over doesn't mean it stops giving you the same feelings that it did before or that you stop loving it!#obviously I'm hoping for more one day bc of how the show was cut short. i personally really want those comics danas talked about #but the show is still gonna be there when it's done and i can still be insane abt it for however long i want #and that's nice y'know?#oh god this got too sincere #ANYWAY. current watch pattern is going 1B of frog show -> bits of s1 and then 2B of owl show -> 2A frog -> s3 owl #fun times. owls and frogs

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the-penguinspy · 9 months

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cute! and nature is healing :)

hi smo!! u think im cute?? do i not go ape shitt enough. i'll do it you know. i can. also omg got magical girl twice!! im Mega Peng now!! we could fix each other :)

nature is healing...ur too kind!!! i do love me some mushrooms but i have a feeling that i'll be super good at only picking, like, the poisonous ones. but the hike with you would be fun and i'd go on one with u for sure :)

Who am i? tell me, will,

#penguin honks #smokestarrules #thanks for the ask smo!!! 🥰 ur sweet as always :)#ask meme

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birgittesilverbae · 1 year

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Hhhhhhh Ava-Mary?? Or Bea-Mary for “Birthday”:) love u

ty for the prompt smo ily

Beatrice's ringtone blares loud in the darkness of their bedroom, and beside her Ava shifts restlessly, mumbling something into her pillow. Beatrice is already half out of bed, one hand reaching for her phone, the other soothing Ava back towards sleep.

The number isn't familiar, but the sinking trepidation in the pit of her stomach is, and she's driven almost towards prayer as she answers the call and slips out into the hall. "Hello?"

"Beatrice!" Mary's voice is slurred, tinny like she's just a bit too far from the phone, but Beatrice still recognizes it immediately.

"Where are you?" She's already pinning the phone between ear and shoulder and shrugging halfway into her jacket, grabbing it again so she can shimmy the jacket up the rest of the way. She pulls a toque over her hair, sticking out every which way in cowlicks formed by the hour she'd spent lying beside Ava trying to fall asleep. She'd probably been unconsciously anticipating this call, she realises distantly.

"Whiskey bar downtown," Mary replies, and then there's the murmur of another voice on the other end of the line. Beatrice puts the phone on speaker and sits to slip her boots on, fingers fast on the laces.

An unfamiliar male voice sounds through the speaker. "Your friend's had a bit too much to drink. Smashed her phone." He gives her the address and she thanks him before hanging up.

Mary's deep in one-sided conversation with a harried-looking bartender when Beatrice slips into the bar. He looks her up and down as she approaches and his lip curls momentarily as he takes in her paint-splattered sweatpants. He brightens, though, when she perches on the stool next to Mary and lays a careful hand on her shoulder.

Mary spins in a wobbly arc, a fraction of a second slow, unbalanced, and Beatrice catches her by the front of her shirt before she can pitch over into Beatrice's lap.

"Beatrice!" she crows, still tilting into the steadiness of Beatrice's touch.

"Mary," Beatrice replies, forcing her voice to stay even.

"Bea. Hey. I broke my phone, Bea." She waves it between them, shattered screen backlit by the photo of her and Shannon that had long sat on Shannon's desk.

"I heard."

"I forgot. For a moment I forgot. And then I saw my lockscreen."

"M'kay." Mary goes to stand and rocks into Beatrice's side, her face slotting into the crook of Beatrice's neck. "I miss her," she mumbles, her breath hot and wet against Beatrice's skin.

"Oh, Mary." She rubs Mary's shoulder. "We'll get it fixed tomorrow, okay?"

"I know, darling."

"No, you don't. Ava came back to you."

"Mary–"

"Don't say it. Give me one night."

"Fine. Fine. Do you have your wallet?" Mary gets caught up in digging through the near-infinite pockets of her jacket, and Beatrice uses her distraction to slip her credit card across the bar. "My apologies for her conduct," she says, leaning against the bar. "Today is difficult for her."

The bartender nods his understanding. "I'd figured. She mentioned it was Shannon's birthday rather frequently. Had a lot to say about her."

Beatrice nods. "It's the first one since we lost her," she confides quietly.

The bartender passes her card back with a sad smile. "My condolences."

"Thank you. And thank you for calling me. I appreciate it."

"Of course." He gives her a nod and moves off down the bar.

Beatrice turns back to Mary, still busy digging through her pockets. "Let's go, darling," she says, moving to slide an arm around Mary's waist. "Let's get you home, okay?"

"I can't ever go home," Mary says quietly.

Beatrice presses a kiss to the side of Mary's head and tries not to sigh. "I know, darling. I know."

#ask #smokestarrules #myfic #mywn #warrior nun #shotgun mary #sister beatrice #fic: nature

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