alms4oblivion

[alms4oblivion]

For Ava, piracy is Robin Hooding. Distributing ill-gotten gains is the best part.

For Beatrice, piracy is an escape. Being chased by the authorities has made her free.

For Suzanne, piracy is how she protects her girls. A means to an end.

For Shannon, piracy is a duty. Needs must.

For Mary, piracy is a job. A job with a built in soulmate.

For Camila, piracy is the family business. It is all about family.

For Lilith, piracy is the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to familial expectations. Found family is infinitely better.

god yeah i really do love the idea of ava, fresh-sprung from an orphanage and anointed with unholy power, fleeing through a maze of port city streets and running headlong into beatrice.

she’s got a pistol at her hip and a stack of books in her arms, smells faintly of magesmoke and blood, but she pulls ava into an alley, casts a simple ward and holds her there in the damp dark, alley cats wending around her boots.

one hand over ava’s mouth, the other trapping her arm against the splintery wooden wall until the guards (ava hopes that she thinks they’re guards) have moved on. then beatrice stepping back, appraising, going to collect her books from a neat pocket dimension she sketched into the air.

telling ava, because she follows, moth to a flame, “sorry about the rough handling. my name is beatrice, ship’s mage on the Cat's Cradle.”

she’s got the tattoos to prove it, almost consuming the skin of both arms as she tugs the cuffs up past her elbows; not down to hide them, but up, to reveal what she is.

at ava’s puzzled look she says, “it’s better, around here, to be seen as a mage rather than a woman.”

ava barely bites back on some loathsome quip, nods at her, then flinches at the sound of distant shouts.

beatrice casts a sidelong glance at her in her stained shirt, trousers cut at the knees. she's barefoot and bruised, staring like she's never seen buildings, or the sky, or a woman before.

she doesn’t even have a knife tucked into her trousers, or the slightest chance of making it through a night alone in this city.

there's a sigh trapped behind her teeth, but beatrice finds herself turning back. voice clipped, almost emotionless, “you look a little bit out of your depth.”

“no shit.”

but ava says it with a shaky laugh. she’s still more than a little preoccupied with how beatrice’s mage tattoos shift and slither in the interrupted light.

beatrice shrugs, “you know if you're interested, our surgeon needs an assistant.” her eyes travel hastily down ava’s body and then back up, “she says that small hands are helpful.”

“small hands?”

“to, ah, move around hers and to make stitches. i can’t say i really understand it, but, well-”

“magic doesn’t heal.” ava says this with bleak familiarity, like she knows the words by heart but would rather she didn’t.

she looks at her hands, tries not to think of what they can do, of the promise she made while half-asleep, to something that should not even be real.

“don’t you think that’s weird? you can do anything, but you can’t close a wound or... or fix broken bones?”

beatrice looks at her, shrugs uneasily. it’s just ink sitting under her skin, but the tattoos seem to shift and glisten wetly as she crosses her arms. “it’s not strange,” she says. “it’s the bargain we made.”

mages are oh-so-fond of trotting out that line. ava tries not to grimace at it. she is, after all, alone and penniless. she is being hunted.

“i’ve never done surgery or anything like that before,” she admits, looking down, braced for dismissal. her eyes stall on the books in beatrice’s arms. gods below i’m fucked. so fucked. i can’t even read, how am i supposed to-

“do you learn quickly?”

beatrice is looking at her calmly when ava rocks back on her heels and dares to meet her eyes. “you… what?”

“our surgeon can teach you, if you learn quickly.” beatrice pursed her lips, “if not, you could be one of the rigging boys, or… well, i’ll figure something out.”

ava stares at her, astonished. “but... why are you helping me?”

a raised eyebrow, muscles working under ink as beatrice clutches her books tightly. she looks odd and out of place in the dingy alley, with her tailored trousers and little silver buckles winking on her boots, through the dark.

“you look like you’re running from something.” ava clenches her fists at her sides, begging her abilities to stay under her skin.

beatrice seems preoccupied with her own thoughts, “someone helped me that way once, when i was… lost. you’ll meet her, i suppose. she’s my captain.”

“are you pirates?” ava blurts the question before she can stop herself, and beatrice’s gaze sharpens.

ava holds up her hands, “it’s just… two officers who are women and now your captain too. it occurred to me, is all.”

beatrice gives her a hard look, but she finds nothing in ava’s expression, beyond a measure of panic. maybe some fear, which is all for the better. "i suppose you'll find out." she's closed-off again, but not hostile.

yet, ava thinks. not yet.

“if you want, you can follow me. if not…”

beatrice frowns. already the sun is setting, dragging light back down along western shore, down into the ocean.

she turns away, starts walking, does not make a relieved sound when she hears ava start to follow. convinces herself that she doesn’t wish to make any relieved sound, at all.

one girl cannot be important, not in the scope of things.

“i’m ava, by the way.”

she speaks to the firm slope of beatrice’s shoulders. the day was too warm for a jacket, so it’s in her cabin, half-draped across the desk to hide her papers.

a half-turn, a nod of the head.

“pleasure.”

[alms4oblivion]

Prompt: Hickey 💋

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

“Are you mad at Beatrice or something?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Still. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[alms4oblivion]

Genre: Historical romance

Location: Ocean

Object: a 2024 Volkswagen Golf GTI

i WILL break shenanigans

GDI NO YOU WON'T !!!!! we're all very mature and not at all stubborn here lol <3 i know nothing of historical fiction so forgive me for the meandering opening, but also thank you for helping me stretch and try new things and i will stop rambling now okbye

Beautiful, is what Beatrice thinks as she watches the sun set over the water, the ocean welcoming the gold into its arms. It's not the first time she's thought it, here; but it was the first time she'd thought it- here, at this shore, watching a sunset like this one, listening to the world quiet and soften into evening.

But unlike that time, the person who'd taught her to see it, who'd challenged so much of what she'd been taught, what she thought she knew - about life, about living, about love - isn't here.

Beatrice isn't surprised - she's not even disappointed. Resigned, yes. To a fate that she's known since she was young: a duty to her family, to her title, to a legacy larger than she. She knows all the reasons why she must leave. And yet. She finds herself lingering. Lingering until the sun's last gasp of light disappears from the horizon. Until gold gives way to darkness.

Beatrice gets to her feet, brushes the sand from her suit, the same one she'd worn when Ava had laughed and pulled her into the waves of this very same beach, a night that seems like years ago instead of days; Ava had laughed that laugh that always leaves Beatrice entranced, had danced and pulled her in close, had cupped her face and looked at Beatrice's lips when she'd called her handsome.

Beatrice sighs, coaxes the memory of that night into the back of her mind as gently as she can. Locks it away. It won't do to remember, now. Not when the morning after that night she'd been greeted by the news of her father's death and her family's summons back home.

She straightens. Nods to herself. She's wasted too much time. This - the silence, the dark, the loneliness creeping back into her heart - is her sign. She's waited (hoped, dreamed) long enough.

Beatrice turns from the ocean. In the morning, she'll wake before dawn and board the ship that will take her home, and she'll leave this Beatrice behind. The Beatrice that knew Ava; the Beatrice that loved Ava, here.

A sound too sharp to be the crashing of waves grabs Beatrice's attention. She's reminded suddenly that is alone and unarmed.

The sound grows. She sets her stance.

A flash of eerie blue light appears, splitting the space in front of her, a hole ripped through the air. Through it appears a contraption Beatrice has never seen before, a carriage of metal, roaring like some mechanical wild animal, and Beatrice has to jump back to avoid getting run over as it leaps through through the air and lands, sliding wildly on the sand.

Just as abruptly as it appeared, the light disappears. Leaving Beatrice and the machine, stuttering, grumbling, shaking. Finally, it too stills.

Then -

"Beatrice!"

Her arms are full before she even registers fully who it is. Not that Beatrice had to guess - there's only one person in the world who would throw themselves into Beatrice's arms this way, who burrows into her neck this way, who trusts her this way.

"Ava," she breathes (a miracle, a sign). Holds her closer.

"Oh my god, Bea, you're alive, Bea," Ava chokes out as she pulls back just enough to hold Beatrice's face in her hands. "You're still alive, thank god."

"Of course I'm alive," Beatrice says slowly. Feels her confusion grow as she takes in Ava fully: the terror and relief carved deep onto her face; the cut of her hair, shorter than it was just a day ago; clothes Beatrice has never seen on her before, of a style she's never seen ever. "Ava, what's happened? What is all this -" she runs her palms along the stiff fabric of her jacket; gestures to the machine over Ava's shoulder "- what is that?"

"It's a time travel machine," Ava answers without ever looking away from Beatrice. "I had to help Dr. Salvius make it. We tried to get a DeLorean but apparently something about the 2024 Volkswagen Golf GTI - not the 2023, that one almost blew us up - makes it work just as well -"

"Ava, I don't think I understood half the words that just came out of your mouth."

"Right." Ava shakes herself. Starts again. "The thing that matters is that Dr. Salvius was able to make it work, see? I'm here, now." Ava smiles, victorious. But just as quickly, her expression turns serious and her hands move from Beatrice's face to her shoulders. "Bea. You can't get on that ship."

Beatrice sighs. She doesn't want to spend their last night together rehashing the same argument they've had for nearly a week now. "Ava, please -"

"No, I mean it, Bea."

"- let's not do this now -"

"- there's going to be a terrible storm -"

"- storms happen all the time at sea -"

"- this one will be different, Bea!" The tremor in Ava's voice makes Beatrice pause; it's the horror in Ava's eyes that makes Beatrice uncertain. "The whole ship will go down," Ava says, eyes distant, voice quiet and uninflected. "No one will survive."

Beatrice swallows. Tries for logic. "You can't possibly know that -"

"I do! I saw it!" Ava's hands tighten to a painful degree but Beatrice lets her holds on, knows Ava needs it by the way her whole body shakes. "I saw you dead. We had a funeral and it was beautiful and you were dead. Beatrice -" Ava slumps forward and Beatrice shifts instantly to catch her, leads them both gently to kneel on the sand. Feels Ava's hands clutch at her as she sobs into Beatrice's chest. "Please, Beatrice. Don't make me go through that. Not again."

Beatrice hums at her softly, holds her close. She's unable to truly comprehend all of what Ava's said in the last few minutes, but Beatrice understands this: the desperation that's taken hold of Ava, the lies she's promised to never tell.

She fits the words together, plays them back as facts. Thinks of the ship, thinks of the life she's never really wanted.

So when Ava's sniffles start to settle, Beatrice pitches her voice low and asks, "What would you have me do?"

Beatrice feels Ava lift her head, finds herself looking into eyes shining from tears grieving a woman still alive; from the wonder of being believed. Ava glances over their shoulders to the machine - the time travel machine - behind them. She shifts onto her knees, takes Beatrice's hand between her own. Takes in a deep breath and says: "Come with me.

"We could go anywhere, any place, at any time - any year. We could go to the Alps and actually talk to those novelists you're always saying you'd like a word with. We could go to the future and dance and drink - anything you'd like. Anywhere.

"Would you?" Ava asks, faltering slightly.

Beatrice looks over at the machine, almost glowing in the darkness that's settled around them. Hears the waves crashing steady onto the shore. Hears the breath Ava takes in and holds; recognizes the sound of hope.

Beatrice sifts through the information Ava has laid at her feet. "You said the ship was destroyed in the storm?"

Ava nods. "Yes. There were no survivors." A helpless look passes over her face, travels down to her shoulders as a shrug. "Yours was one of the few bodies they were able to recover."

"And all of those who were never found were assumed dead." A multitude of scenarios play out simultaneously in Beatrice's mind, a web of ifs and thens, of futures suddenly possible. "So even if they didn't find my body -" feels Ava's hands tighten around hers and knows Ava's following the thread.

Beatrice takes in a breath and holds it just as Ava did, the way Ava has taught her. She looks into Ava's eyes, shining with the same hope she knows is in her own. "Ask me again."

A smile is already growing on Ava's face. "Beatrice," she says, breathless at first, then strengthening with every word. "If I left, would you come with me?"

The words are barely out of Ava's mouth before Beatrice has hers there in answer. "Yes," Beatrice says into the kiss, smiling into Ava's lips, "Yes, I would." Kisses her again and holds her close. "I will."

[alms4oblivion]

Party rock is¹ in the house tonight Everybody just have a good time (Yeah)²

────────────

¹Pretty sure it’s “party rockers.”³

²LMFAO’s “Party Rock Anthem,” Sorry for Party Rocking, 2011

³It’s “party rock is.”— Ed.

[alms4oblivion]

Hi JT! I’m not sure it’s possible to challenge you, but I’d love to try: Glasses, classroom, romcom!

okay finally got some time (how dare work actually be work) but also wow WOW ask an ye shall receive because goddamn this batch of prompts has succeeded in being a challenge lol

anon, i feel like i don’t actually write romcom that much so this was a fun mindpuzzle to practice. thank you for playing!!

“I just don’t get it, Lil.” Ava huffs from her perch atop the edge of their homeroom teacher’s desk, the heels of her feet kicking against it. Behind her, she hears Lilith sigh, which Ava takes as a sign for her to continue her rant. 

“She’s the kindest, coolest in judo practice but the moment she’s off the mat, it’s like she’s a completely different person.” 

Another sigh. “In what way?” 

“Like -” All four of Ava’s limbs get in on the telling “- okay, yesterday I saw her in the hall and waved but she literally said, ‘Do I know you?’” Ava groans, smacking her face with her hands as if it would get the entire experience out of her head. 

“Well, if I was Beatrice, I’d probably pretend I didn’t know you too.”

Ava swivels around, arms out wide to try to smack Lilith, who ducks, expert as she is after years being friends. She doesn’t even pause in her typing. “Lilith, I’m serious,” Ava whines, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Did I do something wrong?”

Lilith shrugs. “It might not be you. Maybe she gets temporary amnesia every time she goes onto the mat. Or maybe the mat triggers some kind of - I can’t believe I’m saying this outloud - subconscious persona that she doesn’t remember outside of practice. Or -” 

A soft cough at the doorway stops them both - with Ava nearly falling off the table when she finds the object of her angst and affection standing just inside the classroom. Because holy shit, Beatrice looks great, as always, but also: when the hell does she wear glasses???  

Beatrice glances between the two of them, must consider Lilith the safer of them as her gaze settles on her. Which, fair, Ava thinks grudgingly, considering how she can’t stop herself from gawking at Beatrice in glasses. Still, she wishes she could get Beatrice’s eyes on her like it is during judo practice, feel the soft touch of her adjustments, hear the note of approval in “good job” that always makes her feel like she could fly to the moon - 

“- okay, Ava?” 

Ava blinks, finds both Lilith and Beatrice watching her, concern written in similar lines across their faces. She shakes herself bodily. “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you need some help?” she squeaks, totally casual. 

“I just need to input those for Beatrice’s class,” Lilith answers, gesturing to the folder Ava’s currently sitting on.

“Oh, sure.” Ava doesn’t realize her mistake until she’s already leaning towards the side. The side that is the edge of the table. The side that is nothing but open air.

She flails for a half-second, hoping to negotiate with gravity, but like always - in judo, on the stairs in the rain, stepping out of the bathtub, and here - it doesn’t give in. Ava closes her eyes as she feels gravity win and thinks: Fuck. 

The ground isn’t what greets her though. There’s a clatter of something falling to the floor and a gasp she recognizes from Lilith, but what surprises Ava the most is the warmth all around her. It’s strong, familiar. 

Ava pries open eyes she hadn’t known she’d closed. Turns her head to find Beatrice, wide-eyed and so, so close. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, and Ava has to keep from losing her shit completely because she can feel Beatrice’s breath against her cheek. 

“Yep,” she squeaks, totally normal. 

She feels Beatrice shift and her feet finally touch the ground. Ava’s loath to let go, now that she knows what Beatrice’s arms feel like fully around her, now that she has Beatrice’s eyes on her fully now, looking at her like - actually, Ava’s not sure what she’s looking at her like. It’s not the wary suspicion from the hallway, but something different. Something like recognition.

Beatrice takes the glasses Lilith is holding out to her, slowly, carefully puts them on.

“Oh,” Beatrice breathes, realization and wonder spreading pink across her face, “It’s you.”

[alms4oblivion]

warrior nun monster AU i did for halloween :) (yes i'm late)

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[alms4oblivion]

Mine. Yours.

[alms4oblivion]

I just saw a video of a girl scattering tea bags on the ground as she walked and going like "oh no I hope a cute British boy doesn't follow me home"

I'll just say it at this point

Ava & Beatrice

[alms4oblivion]

hi jt, finally throwing my hat into the shenanigans prompts ring 😎 here's: hangar / hanger / hangover

you can grab one of them (are they options??) or all of them (are they connected??) or twist it into something else entirely, however you want 🤩

wheee this was fantastic to play with because my brain immediately went to the universe in the long, delirious, burning blue - thanks for giving that fic love btw and for your support in general, not just for me but for so many folks as well!

“Jesus, Ava, what the hell - do you just not believe in hangers or something?”

Beatrice sighs as she makes her way through the hangar, Mary’s voice and Ava’s grumbling filling the space in a way she’s missed, a way she thought she’d forgotten. She lets the sound fill in the cracks that had formed through the years Ava had been away. Glad that she no longer has to fight the silence alone, now. Glad to have her, them, all back, now. 

At least, that’s what Beatrice reminds herself when she rounds the corner and finds Mary about to throttle Ava. “She doesn’t,” Beatrice answers, stepping smoothly in between them to point Mary towards a clothes steamer and Ava to a chair. 

Mary rolls her eyes and grabs the suit jacket and the steamer with clenched fists, muttering to herself about never letting Ava borrow anything again. 

“She should be thankful I didn’t get anything on it.” Ava’s voice is muffled and Beatrice turns to find out why: she’s face down on the desk with a manila folder tossed over her head. “Not a drop - of beer or puke.”

Beatrice chuckles softly. Leans against the desk as she runs her hand gently down Ava’s back. “How’s the hangover?” she murmurs, reaching out with her other hand to adjust the folder to block more of the light. 

Ava lifts a hand, waggles it weakly back and forth before dropping it back onto the desk. “Sure showed those kids though.” 

“Those ‘kids’ are only a couple years younger than you.” 

“Still counts.” Ava shifts on the desk, shuffles so one eye peeks out from under the folder. “Besides, you’re like their mom so.” Her hand flops again, as if illustrating her point. “Kids.” 

Beatrice rolls her eyes. “Hardly.” Can’t stop the note of fondness in her voice, though. Knows Ava’s heard it by the smirk that edges across her face. 

Something else must show because Ava sits up, the folder falling to the desk as she takes Beatrice’s hand. “What?” she asks, low and careful. 

It’s a gift - to look at her now, to look at her here, to see the brow furrowed in both headache and concern, to feel the gentleness Ava’s always saved for her; to feel safe, saved, and whole.

Again. Finally.

Beatrice squeezes the hand in hers. Answers honestly, helplessly: “You’re here.” 

Ava softens. “I am.” Uses her fingers to trace the tattoo on Beatrice’s wrist - a promise and a reminder both. Presses a kiss there for good measure. “Always.”

[alms4oblivion]

have some more warrior nun pirate AU

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[alms4oblivion]

I did something.

[alms4oblivion]

I have another shenanigans prompt: Ava and Beatrice are passengers on a long haul interplanetary mission. Beatrice is working as a diplomat hoping to improve relations between two galactic empires that have been at odds for centuries due to scuffles over specific territories of control. Meanwhile, Ava is a smuggler looking to bring illegal goods into the empire that Beatrice is attempting to establish better relations with, but is still struggling to come to terms with the death of her mother in a warzone. The fic should explore the complex interaction of global scale political conflicts with the personal and how individuals can choose to deal with that, alongside the struggle of a romantic relationship between two people whose lifestyles seem ultimately incompatible. 500 words, have it on my desk by Monday.

i see you channelling your teacher-ness, you bossy thing. but i told you i'd write it! AND i'll have you know that this clocked in at 498 words on my google doc so :P (all that said, idk if i did this prompt justice since i leaned a lot on the fact that the prompt is known. it was fun as heck to think about though, thank you so much!!)

“Is this seat taken?” 

When Beatrice silently sighs and folds her hands over her documents, she expects the smile; doesn’t expect the pretty face. Doesn’t expect to spend the next two hours exchanging both facts on the benefits of paper and the most terrible of puns. Wonders if anyone could ever expect the wonder that is Ava Silva.

*

“Not everyone had as soft a life as you, ambassador.” 

Ava crosses her arms over her chest and Beatrice tries not to get distracted by the stretch of her shirt or the sharp defensiveness that stiffens her own spine. But Ava sighs before Beatrice can speak. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” 

Beatrice shakes her head. “But not untrue.” Remembers what Ava had told her about her mother, about the medical tools, the knowledge that could have saved her and countless others. The supplies and medicines and books hidden in her cargo.

Beatrice knows the universe is unfair, indifferent, unkind. Has only known of politics and paperwork as the ‘proper’ levels to shape it into something less so. 

Had never known of another way; of helping people, face-to-face. Would have never known, had she never known Ava.

*

“Ambassador, comms have been cut off -” The transport jolts as another volley threatens the integrity of the shields.

“Then we need to find another way to tell them,” Beatrice nearly yells, frantic; hates the idea she thinks of, but presents it anyway: “If they know I’m on board, they’ll have to spare the ship -”

“Ma’am -”

“According to intergalactic rules -”

“- if I could, I would, ambassador, but -”

“There are children on this transport!” 

“Bea.” Ava’s touch is featherlight against the vibrating steel of her shoulders. “They don’t care.”

Helplessness sits like acid in Beatrice’s stomach. “Then what do we do?” 

Ava’s grin is sharp. “Run. Let me show you how it’s done.”

*

“Damn, that’s a hell of a welcome party.” Ava whistles at the swarm of media at the landing station the transport is limping towards. 

Beatrice straightens her shirt, allows herself some imperfection; knows how she wants to play this part. Still: “I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘welcome.’” She glances at Ava, notes the lack of luggage with her. “Shouldn’t you be with the others? My staff -”

“Will keep them away from us, I know.” Ava eyes her closely. “You don’t have to do this. Any of this.” 

Beatrice takes a deep breath, thinks on the last 52 hours, on the new dimension of thinking, of hurting, of helping that she now knows. “It’s my job,” she says, steady. Glances at Ava and lets her words tip towards truth. “And my pleasure.” 

*

Beatrice sighs into her seat, closes her eyes for what feels like the first time in months. Feels the hum of the transport under her feet. Thinks of the last time she’d taken this route over a year ago. Thinks about change. 

Thinks about -

“Is this seat taken?” 

Beatrice smiles; knows what to expect when she opens her eyes. 

[alms4oblivion]

Hi JT, I have a clue based shenanigans prompt: avatrice in the billiard room with the candlestick

i giggled all the way through this lolol - my thought for the first one was that they’re playing like a live version of Clue or something - idk fancy suits and stuff 

[one] 

“Ava -” a soft moan before Beatrice’s words return “I agreed to partner with you because you said you’d take this seriously.” 

“I am taking this seriously,” comes Ava’s answer, her smirk sliding down Beatrice’s neck and down to her collarbone. “For example, I know that you think better without so many clothes on.” 

Beatrice slides her hand into Ava’s hair and palms her scalp, clenches her fingers just enough to pull, for Ava’s mouth to drop open. Takes the moan onto her tongue. Pulls back just as Ava starts to writhe against her. 

“I will not lose to Lilith for the second year in a row because we got distracted, Ava.” Beatrice’s eyes flash once before stepping back. “You’ll do as you promised.” 

The tone and the words do nothing to calm Ava down; makes it worse. “I will, Bea, just - I’ll be quick, I swear,” Ava’s eyes are wide and desperate, and her hands lift from where they’d been clawing at Beatrice’s shirt to her own dress. Tugs the top down to reveal her breasts. “Please, I need -” 

Beatrice doesn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence. She lifts Ava by the back of her thighs, scans the room for the nearest raised surface and decides the billiard table will do; sets her down and sets her mouth to work. Pulls at her own jacket, throws it to the side blindly. Hears something fall. 

“Oh shit, Bea, the candles -” 

Thankfully, they get to the overturned candles before anything can set on fire. Danger averted, Ava’s mouth and hands are back on Beatrice, sliding closer to fit herself over Beatrice’s thighs - 

“Ava, we’ve found it! Here, on the candlestick: it’s the clue!” 

(We are definitely not doing this next year, Ava groans to herself as she straightens her clothes and follows down the hall Beatrice has already disappeared through.) 

**

[two - under the cut because well...]

“Careful, darling,” Beatrice murmurs from behind Ava as she tries to control her shivers. “We don’t want any of the wax to ruin the table.” 

Ava nods, or at least tries to as she moans around the gag when she feels another drop of wax fall onto her skin; moans again when she feels Beatrice slide the strap deeper still. 

“Now try again.” Beatrice sets Ava’s hands on the cue once more, bends Ava over as Beatrice bends over her. Ava gasps, trembling in Beatrice’s arms. Feels her everywhere. Hears her in her ear: “Just one more, Ava, and then you can come.”

[alms4oblivion]

Prompt: Secret Santa 🎅🏼🎁

hello hello! going with some sort of office au for this one - thanks for joining in the shenanigans!

Beatrice's first thought when she receives her Secret Santa assignment is, inexplicably, The Little Mermaid, specifically the song "Part of your world."

Well, not so inexplicable considering that a) she's been assigned to Ava and b) they'd spent their last movie night on the couch with Ava murmuring along to all the songs, eyes alight and giggles as soft as the blanket they'd shared, as soft as the cheek Ava had rested against her shoulder.

And because c) what does one get the girl who has everything?

It's not that Ava doesn't have wants - Beatrice is more than aware of her dreams and desires, knows how wide and varied they are: a trip to the Blue Grotto, the little Santa rubber duckie she'd seen in a store window, beating Lilith for Employee of the Month. But all of these are things that are within Ava's reach, that Beatrice knows she's already on her way to achieve, that she doesn't need help with; that she hardly needs help with anything, least of all from someone like her.

"You're stressing way too much over a gift that's supposed to be less than $20," Camila observes on their lunch break, eyeing the spreadsheets and printouts littering Beatrice's desk (end of year planning can wait a couple days, Beatrice justifies to herself; it's not every year she's given a duty as important as this).

"You know she'll be happy with anything," Camila continues as she finishes off her burger and eyes Beatrice's fries.

Beatrice turns sharply in her chair. "How do you know who I have?"

Camila gives her a knowing look. "There's only one person who ever gets you like this, Beatrice."

Beatrice huffs, claims that Camila is no help at all and sends her away, giggling after stealing Beatrice's bag of fries but Beatrice doesn't notice.

So what if she wants to make sure the gift is perfect. Ava deserves nothing less. Deserves more; deserves it all.

**

Her only reprieve is walking through the Christmas market later that day, Ava having tugged her towards the square while batting her eyes and a pout on her lips. "Fine," Beatrice had sighed, "Fine." Had stuffed her hands in her pockets and ignored Ava's fond laugh, had leaned into Ava leaning into her as they made their way down the line of stalls.

She'd forced herself not to think of Ava's rosy cheeks, or the way she'd leaned in to share various treats on sticks; forced herself to remind herself that they were friends, and that Ava deserves so much more.

She doesn't ignore, however, the way how Ava squeals when they catch sight of an ice skating rink, or how she sighs longingly and says how she'd likely break her tailbone if she ever tried. Starts to form an idea in her mind as Ava drags them away and on to yet another stall.

**

Beatrice lingers just inside the entrance, spotting Ava easily among the crowd moving on to and off of the ice rink. There's several ways this could go (she'd come up with at least 17 different possibilities last night, had settled on mild disappointment as the most likely and least painful of them all). She'd seriously considered backing out and calling in a favor with JC or Hans, forestalled only by the memory of Ava's joy, and a hope that drives her slowly forward.

Still, Beatrice walks toward Ava slowly, trying gauge Ava's mood. She's excited, that much is clear in the way she's tapping her feet, checking her phone, fixing her hair - Beatrice pauses at that. She's only seen that particular tic a couple times before, always before a date. Her mind goes into overdrive, adding now an 18th possibility, now feeling wholly unprepared -

"Bea!"

Ava's on her feet in a flash, rocks forward then just as quickly back, as if catching herself. It doesn't dim her smile, though, in fact it just gets wider. There's no surprise, Beatrice realizes, and it's as if: "You knew it was me?"

"Of course I knew it was you," Ava says before biting her lip, eyes falling slightly, shy. "There's no one else who knows me like you do."

Beatrice feels her breath catch, coughs her way through it. But she feels something resonate in her chest at Ava's admission; decides to give one in return. "I had a hard time picking something. I know this is something you could've gotten for yourself, or we could have done it together without the whole Secret Santa business, or perhaps -"

"Bea." Ava's hand is as soft as her eyes, as soft as her voice. "This is perfect. Thank you for this." The smile is one Ava has given Beatrice many times before, a place to fall and be caught, to be revealed and still respected, protected; wanted.

Beatrice takes the hope in her chest and tries her best to shape them into words. "There's more, actually. I was hoping that afterwards, if you'd like, we could go for dinner? As in, well, as in ..."

"As in a date?"

And when Beatrice looks into Ava's eyes there's none of the disappointment or disgust that she had feared - just a similar longing and a rising, excited hope.

"Yes, Ava. If that's okay with you."

The smile Ava gives is a sunrise, a release, a relief. "I would want nothing more."

(What a surprise, Beatrice thinks when they make their way out onto the rink hand in hand, to be wanted by the girl who has everything.)

[alms4oblivion]

[alms4oblivion]

Acting au was great 😍 Okay, here is a new prompt: Hot chocolate ☕️🍫

so i had to get a routine vaccine earlier today so my body’s not very happy rn but this prompt made me feel not so bad? idk maybe it’s just in my head lol. what i’m trying to say is: thank you anon, this was a lovely prompt <3 

In most things, Ava isn’t really picky. For most things, she simply hasn’t had enough experience to be picky, so she welcomes first times, first tries, first everythings with equal parts excitement and trepidation and nervousness and joy and grief because yes, she gets to try it now, finally; now, in this life. 

The one thing Ava is picky about, however, is hot chocolate. There’s in fact a process but it’s one that Beatrice has yet to fully master because unlike her process for making tea - which Ava insists she follows perfectly, even using the food scale and timer that Beatrice insists only be used for tea - there’s a certain feel to things that Beatrice never quite gets right. But Ava doesn’t fault her for it; loves her for it, even - more. 

Beatrice tries though, because she always tries, and always gives her best: She fills two mugs with milk like Ava says her mother did after they’d spent a day in the snow and dumps the contents into a pot, stirs in a scoop each of the two kinds of hot chocolate mix Ava had come home with the first time it’d snowed. Lets it warm, lets the warmth seep into her bones, standing at the stove of a home she didn’t know she could have, that sometimes she can hardly believe she has, now. 

But inevitably Ava will nudge her aside, toss in some kind of spice, throw in more chocolate or more milk or both, will stir and taste and add and hum until finally she proclaims it done. Beatrice will have hers as is but Ava will dig through the fridge for the can of whipped cream and - after spraying a bit into her own giggling mouth - will top her mug as high as it is deep. It’s followed often with more chocolate or a candy cane or a seasonal caramel syrup they’d found at that week’s farmer’s market, before taking a bite like one would a sandwich or cotton candy. It always leaves Ava with a sticky face and sticky fingers, both of which she’ll try to “share” with Beatrice by chasing her around the living room. 

They’ll end as they usually do, bellies full, chests warm, arms around each other, murmuring love with their mouths, with their hands, with their hearts.

i've got a couple prompts to go through but feel free to keep the shenanigans coming!

[alms4oblivion]

Feather Fang

or... my personal moon moon, if you will