Watch This Whole Thing Pls Ty

watch this whole thing pls ty

And the character growth that must have happened in those two months! How Ava goes from the ‘spoiled child who thinks everything’s about her because it had to be’ to the adult wanting to step up and choose her fight but willing to back down because of how it would impact some she cares for. How this is definitely part of an ongoing argument given the start of the episode (boss wants to see you because you were networking in order to fight, again) and training and that scene in the apartment (I’m sorry 😢). Like they must have discussed it so many times in so many different ways and they are still willing to, to hear and be heard. To share their most vulnerable fears and be seen. 

Which I think is remarkable. Like, Beatrice could have such power over Ava (as her trainer/commander?) but there’s this give and take. Even when Beatrice gives commands it’s with a deep understanding that Ava will only follow the if she chooses. And I can’t help but think it both reassures and scares the hell out of Beatrice. Because Beatrice is used to grounding her arguments and justifications in logic and morals (the situation). Not feelings and desires (herself). But guess which side of the argument actually sways Ava?

WARRIOR NUN 2.02 “Colossians 3:9-10″

Ava sometimes gets overstimulated physically

Her sense of touch went from ‘full volume needed to get even a hint of sensation’ to ‘full sensation at least volume and you broke the dial at full’. Bea first discovers this when she comes home to find Ava in Bea’s oldest most worn sweatshirt (one of the few remaining possessions she has). It’s super comfy. Which is exactly why Ava stole it.

“Is that my sweater?” Beatrice is so shocked to see Ava’s fully bare shoulder peeking out, that she speaks without thinking. “Are you naked under it?!”

Ava shrugs it off playfully. “Yeah, of course. It’s the softest thing we have and everything is just very… everything.”

“Very what?” Beatrice cocks her head.

“All of the things. Soft, hard, cold, hot. I feel like my skin’s doing so many things it’s going to make me dizzy.” Beatrice’s eyes soften. “I love it. Just sometimes I wish I could turn it down, a bit.”

“You’re overstimulated,” Beatrice’s voice is gentle in understanding. “Of course. I, I should have known.”

Ava smiles. “How could you?”

“Well,” Beatrice pauses for a second to stare in Ava’s eyes, “I know now. Is there anything else you’d like? To make it more comfortable.”

“Anything?” Ava sounds hopeful.

“Yes Ava, anything you’d like.” The words are laden with unspoken vow.

Ava’s smile blossoms into a grin and Beatrice discovers her favourite flower moments before she has a heart attack. For surely watching Ava pull down her pants and underwear, leaving her covered (barely) only by Beatrice’s oldest and most worn sweater, is sufficient cause for a heart attack. “Thank fuck!” Ava crows as she strips all but that unbearably thin, unbearably short sweater off. It’s hem hangs tauntingly just below the firm roundness of Ava’s ass. “I know polite society is all about the clothes but you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be naked today.”

Beatrice makes a vague dying noise of spontaneous agreement. She, too, has wanted Ava naked today. She just didn’t realize how much until now. Some distant voice Beatrice almost recognizes as her own asks, “are you going to leave the sweater on?”

Ava nods, prancing into the bedroom with her empty clothes to put them in the hamper exactly like Beatrice (typically) wants. Beatrice is a little distracted by other wants right now. Sinful, delightful wants. “Yeah, it really is super soft.” Ava’s out of the kitchen but Beatrice can picture her beautiful eyes lighting up with joy.

“Thank fuck,” Beatrice prays with extreme gratitude for the limitation on dangerous temptation.

Ava hums and pops her head around the door. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Beatrice gives her a tight smile. “Nothing important. Now, what should we cook for supper tonight?”

Ava shines, as she always does in Beatrice’s eyes, at the endless possibilities.

Ava never, ever thought she’d enjoy laying in bed. She’d thought that joy taken from her by the accident that killed her mother, Sister Francis’s scowling face, and a body that refused to work. Stolen from her like so many other joys by a universe that fundamentally didn’t care about her. And when the universe proved it did care in the more fucked up way it could, she assumed it was one of the few joys she’d never get back. Not that she cared. 

Who could care about the joy of laying awake in bed when compared to the unrivalled ecstasy of running along a beach? Of jumping on the bed she just slept in? So what if the interest talked longingly of slow morning and warm comfort. Ava would take the sharp sting of life over the dull numbness of existence any day. 

Even going to sleep in a bed is a struggle. She remembers tossing and turning so in those first few days, especially on the hard wooden pews beside Mary. It’d gotten a little easier as days past. As she relearned the ability to leave her bed in the morning. Falling asleep was a hassle. Well, no, falling asleep alone was a hassle. It was surprisingly easy to fall asleep in bed beside Beatrice. 

It was, as far as Ava could remember, the first time she’d ever slept beside someone. Oh, she’d slept in the same room as a few different people. Mary, Diego, and her roommates prior to him. But never beside. Never with the exquisite of their body heat palpable through the small distance between them. Never with their tired hand weaving their fingers together to still her incessant fidgeting with matter of fact tiredness. Never with the whisper of their breath causing the fringe of her hair to wave. Ava falls asleep embarrassingly easily when she’s beside Beatrice. 

Even on the small worn bed they find in the safe house. A bed that’s a little too similar to the cage Ava spent years confined to. Ava wonders if she would have slept so easily if the confined space didn’t destroy that thin stretch of distance between Beatrice’s body and hers. And why had no one told her that cuddling someone, having Beatrice tucked protectively around her back with a gentle arm around her waist to hold her hand, would feel more intimate than sex? Even with how stiff and awkward Beatrice had been the first night in this small bed will forever be one of Ava’s favourites. 

Even with that pleasure and joy Ava had still practically jumped out of bed in the morning. Practically because the soft almost snores against the back of her head indicated Beatrice was still sleeping. The rush to get to the safe house had exhausted Ava and she had a other dimensional power source humming in her bones. Beatrice, for all her indomitable competence, was still just human. With unpracticed precision and limitless concern Ava had snuck her way out from Beatrice’s supportive arm. And if she spent the next few minutes studying how the rising sun highlighted the contours of Beatrice’s face, well, no one but her ever needed to know. 

Ava retreats (eventually) to the kitchen. The farthest she can get from the small bed. Only to discover she has no idea what to do the moment she arrives. It’s not something she’s ever had to think about and the idea sneaks a smile across her face. She just spent an entire night being held. By Beatrice. For some reason that fact seems equally important. She wants to do something, her body twitching with the desire. Scream? Shout? Dance? Dance. Ava nods a little wiggle around the kitchen, feet shuffling along. 

Ava wants to tell Beatrice how nice it was. How safe she felt for perhaps the first time since she was seven. How amazing it was to know to her bones that she wasn’t alone. But she’s trying to be better about the whole ‘naivety being a downer’ thing. Given how stiff Beatrice was last night, how many times she checked that her body next to Ava’s was ‘ok’, Ava doubts she want to hear Ava’s ramblings about it. Ava’s eyes unconsciously scan the room as she wracks her mind for what else she can do to say ‘thank you’. Her eyes land on the coffee pot and light up with a brilliant idea. 

Ava’s an atheist and all, but thank god for the internet. Thank god for incredibly detailed step by step instructions on making coffee. Ava contemplates, for just a minute, attempting to cook the egg dish she’d served in the small town she’d fought her first possessed person in. Her heart pangs in fear at what could have happened to Mary. Regret at leaving Mary behind weighing down her shoulders. Up until she imagines what Mary would say right now. Probably something about how right she was when she said Ava would need to learn how to cook some day. There’s disappointingly little in the way of food to cook for breakfast in the safe house. She finds some plain cereal, what she’s pretty sure could become porridge if she knew how, and frozen bread. Ava has no desire to repeat either of her most common meals from the orphanage so bread it is. At least there’s jam and honey for it. 

The scent of coffee is unique and strong. The taste is bitter as hell and Ava is not a fan but she’s watched Beatrice drink enough of it in the past few days that she’s relatively sure Beatrice will want some now. Something about the muscles of Beatrice’s throat working as she swallowed had often drew her eye. It takes just moments after starting the coffee brewing for the rich scent to fill the air. Ava pauses with the toast down to just close her eyes and breath. The mix of fresh mountain air sneaking in through the window, the rich overtones of coffee and the subtler warm undertone of toasted bread fills her lungs. If a smell can feel like home this is the second closest Ava’s come to home since before she can remember.

“Ava?” Beatrice’s voice has a husk to it, a burr created from sleep and disuse. It softens the crisp pronunciation she uses. Ava keeps her eyes closed, listening as Beatrice’s voice gets closer. “You’re awake? And making breakfast?”

Ava open her eyes to Beatrice standing before her. Sleep rumpled and skin creased from the pillow her face had been pressed against for hours. There’s the slightest of shines at the corner of her lip, like drool had been hastily wiped off. Her overlarge shirt hangs off one shoulder, somehow still elegant. She’s the most beautiful person Ava’s ever seen in her life. “Yeah. Got bored of waiting for you, sleepy head.” Ava teases gently.

Beatrice frowns in affected grumpiness, as though her lips aren’t curling up in the smallest of private smiles. Ava doesn’t even want to stop her return grin. “Well excuse us poor humans from needing sleep,” Beatrice snarks gently. 

Ava laughs at the unknowing agreement of her earlier thoughts. The toaster pops up with the most intriguing sound and Ava puts two more pieces in just so she can listen to again. She turns back to Beatrice and spots the knowing look in the older woman’s eyes. Ava doesn’t flush only because there’s something impossibly gentle paired with that knowing look. Not pity. Never pity. Compassion. Understanding. Respect. 

A warmth flushes through Ava’s chest and she places their warm toast on the table. “So, what’s the plan for today?” Ava asks, ready for the day to begin.

That first day had set the pattern for their life in the Alps. Ava would wake with the sun and have a few minutes of peaceful joy to herself. Some days she’d watch the sunrise from the roof of their small apartment. Others she’d sit on the couch reading or practicing her writing. When the sun was fully risen she’d sneak into the kitchen and practice her latest attempt at breakfast. She was, and she did say so herself quite frequently, pretty damn good with omelettes. Beatrice would agree with a gentle smile, hair twisted up in a messy bun and still in her pyjamas. Whoever had work early would then take a shower and head off. If neither had the open shift they’d split up to change into training clothes and head off for the nearest uninhabited trail for a run followed by practice. Those mornings where Ava’s favourites. And not just because Beatrice could sometimes be convinced to shower first allowing Ava to see her wet and (mostly) naked. There was just something about being together through the hard times and the good that made her chest feel so full and light. Light enough to fly. Well, levitate but close enough. 

Ava’s pretty sure that this, the life they’ve created, is as close as she’s ever going to get to heaven. But life’s constantly trying to prove her wrong. That amazing bitch. 

About one month into this bliss Ava wakes up and doesn’t. Not all the way. Not the heart pounding ‘I’m trapped here forever’ kind of way. The should be petrifying thought crosses her mind and her mind just goes ‘yeah, ok, that’ll be nice’. Like, ‘oh damn, guess I’ll have to stay forever beside Bea then’. Ava’s breath stutters for a heartbeat before settling back into the steady calm whooshes it’s been. A smile plays at her lips as she considers what it would truly mean to be stuck here forever. Beatrice is solid and firm against her. Ava can feel her from her shoulders to her ankles, can feel the weight of Beatrice’s arm and leg holding her down. Lets her own hand explore the contours of Beatrice’s nails, her callouses, how her thumb flexes. 

Beatrice’s hand is a marvel. A miracle. Ava can’t even imagine the amount of lives saved by these hands. Can’t imagine the bruises and breaks these hands have dealt. Can imagine how the cup her cheek in silent affirmation that Ava is not (will never) be alone. Ava’s put her life in these hands and they have held it with a firm, unwavering protection. There is safety in these hands. And love. 

Ava’s heart stutters. Love. She loves Beatrice’s hands. Loves the life Beatrice’s hands have helped her create. Loves how fierce and shy Beatrice’s hands, Beatrice, is. And, oh. Such soft lazy mornings are built for profound realizations of the universe. They must be, to give Ava one such as this.

She loves Beatrice.

All the fanfics I can find about Switzerland seem to universally agree that Ava is not a morning person, but I have a HC that she spent so long in a bed that she can’t stand to stay in bed in the morning once she starts to wake up, she has to get up and start the day to remind herself that she can.

Bea expects it to be hard to get her up for training every morning, but the minute she starts to wake up, she starts this restless tossing and turning and sometimes even manages to beat Bea out of bed and start coffee. Sometimes she levitates out of bed and through the apartment to see how long she can go without waking Bea.

I want a soft fic of one of their first mornings in Switzerland where Bea wakes up to Ava already halfway through making toast and coffee just before sunrise because she couldn’t stand to be still anymore and tried *really* hard to sneak into the kitchen without waking her up.

Bonus points for Ava starting to stay in bed later to wait for Bea to wake up because she likes laying next to her, it’s peaceful.

I'd very much like to punch a feminist.

I’d never, ever hurt a lady but I’d be happy to punch a feminist. It’d bring me great joy.

Ok, but to be fair to Ava (because I rewatched season one after watching season two a few times), that’s legit the first time she ever see Beatrice fight. Ever. The first time they met Beatrice surprise tranq’ed her. Y’know, I just realized Ava was tranq’ed three times within that few days. The first by Sister Francis that killed her. The second by Beatrice. The third by Sister Francis (again) in an attempt to kill her (again) that Ava successfully fought off with the Halo. Anyway, the second time she ‘meets’ Beatrice she woke up to Beatrice very calmly advocating for not killing her and Ava accidentally tossed Beatrice when she wasn’t able to calm down. Third time, other than hovering around in the background, was at supper. When Ava sat next to her because she didn’t look actively hostile. Then the fourth. Oh, the fourth. When Ava’s just had her actual murder rubbed in her nose as a personal choice (and failing). When Beatrice allowed Ava to seek comfort in her and willingly offers more. And Beatrice immediately agrees with Ava over what her commanders and all the files say. Just *bam* instant acceptance of what Ava is saying. Which I imagine is a first given how accepting she is that everyone would read her file and prejudge her. Like, no protest that they read her private information just that it’s wrong.

Yeah. Ava learns Beatrice gives awesome hugs before she ever sees her fight. I imagine this will on day create consternation as Ava is adamant that from the beginning Beatrice was an welcoming (if stiff) cinnamon roll. I can just picture Camila, who trained under Beatrice, being so genuinely confused by this. “l Did she have a concussion when she first met Ava?” “*sigh*, No Camila. She would have healed from it.” “…was she on drugs?” “Again, Halo.” “…but what if it was a lot of drugs she kept taking?” At this point Ava knows Lilith and Mary can both kick Ass. She can reasonably assume Camila can due to Camila being an assigned guard. Ava’s seen Lilith take out a whole group of guys and Mary still (mostly) won against her. Ava’s hierarchy of badassery at this point is pretty much Tarask, Mary, Lilith (very close second), Camila(?), everyone else. Then she comes back from getting the book to see Mary getting owned by Sister Crimson (who, lesbihonest, Ava probably calls Nun More Evil or something because she doesn’t know who she is). Which probably bumps this unknown nun to just under a Tarask. But Mary needs her so Ava steps up. And despite literal superpowers designed to fight evil gets her ass handed to her in one hit. Ava’s spared with Lilith before. Admittedly Lilith was presumably going gently, but still. This is it. Her second death. The killing blow. Right up until Beatrice just catches it. 

Then she gets to see Beatrice fight. Not only is Beatrice fighting the woman who just topped Ava’s hierarchy of badassery she’s calling and countering every move. Beatrice doesn’t just win, she dictates the terms while doing so. She says, pretty explicitly, that there’s nothing Crimson can do to beat her because even when she lost she was winning. And Crimson never knew, never even suspected. That’s how far ahead Beatrice is, how much better Beatrice is. So Ava’s “Beatrice is a badass” is a combination of ‘I logically knew she could probably fight but holy shit’ and ‘holy shit she’s absolutely pawning who I thought was a badass’ and probably a bit ‘I see now Beatrice tops the badass scale but can she top me!?’

Beatrice: "Left hook. Right handed choke hold"

Ava: "Beatrice is a badass"

Yeeeess Ava. Yes she is.