#ava writes!!

[forgave-me-not]

college!wonwoo who gets sick on campus one time and immediately develops a crush on the student nurse that assisted him at the health clinic.

you’re sweet and kind (like all nurses should be), but you’re also really chatty. talking about your humanities course and the readings you have that week. and wonwoo, being so whipped, just nods along thinking, “maybe I should read up on this sartre guy…”

when he leaves, he already misses the conversation. but he shakes it off. they’re cute and they’ve done your job, he thinks. now it’s time for him to get over it. except he doesn’t. because a few days later he finds himself back in the health clinic with an “earache”.

and he prays that you’re the one that attends to him that day, because if not, this would be really embarrassing. but it is you who opens the door to his room, a bit shocked that this cute boy has returned.

“hello, i’m— oh, it’s you. back so soon,” you quip, sanitizing your hands and walking over to him. “still having symptoms of your cold?”

“uh, no actually. something different. it’s,” he clears his throat. he’s never been a good liar. “um, it’s my ear this time.”

“hm, alright then,” you say with a smile. “i’ll get your vitals and check your chart, and then the doctor should be in shortly.” wonwoo nodded. you put the blood pressure cuff on his arm. your fingers dance across his bicep as you fit it around him, and he tries to will his racing heart to stop beating so hard — it’s going to give him away.

“everything looks good on my end,” you say as you flip through his paperwork. “it might be a minute, but a doctor will be in here. holler if you need me.” you give him a warm smile and turn to exit the room. ah, screw it.

“hey, I don’t know if this is too forward, but could i take you out sometime? or walk to you home? something?” wonwoo’s words spill out of him like a dam’s been broken. your eyebrows have shot you up your forehead, and wonwoo braces for this inevitable rejection.

you giggle. you’re giggling at him. wonwoo doesn’t know if this is worse than there being no response at all.

“aw, you’re cute,” you say, taking a step toward him. you bite your lip and look down at your watch. “i get off at two,” you whisper. a heat creeps up wonwoo face and it only makes you giggle more. god, he’d love to hear that sound forever.

“it’s a date then,” he says grinning. you beam back at him and close the door.

wonwoo’s so excited about seeing you later that when the doctor comes in for his appointment, he forgets which ear was supposed to be hurting.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

tuesday in the park (a.d.)

pairing: divorced!art x reader

synopsis: your alone time at the park takes an interesting turn when a little girl breaks the quiet, but maybe... her dad is a good company.

warnings: language, smoking, mention of divorce, lily is an adorable lil oblivious cupid, sooo much tension tho, maybe smut in future parts? idk

notes: i am back and pathetic bitch boy art has officially given me a brainrot. this is also very self-indulgent and heavily based on my irl experience (except the fact that it's art, sadly) soooo... enjoy!

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

City parks are fucking depressing. Especially the industrial type that’s square, and covered in concrete and has, like, four trees. They’re all well-manicured and hung with string lights, but there’s still barely enough greens to call it a park. And to add insult to injury, a Tiffany’s installation art currently sits at the head of the park—a giant diamond ring in a lush velvet box the size of a Range Rover. It’s gaudy as shit, and the massive Aston Martin billboard overhead is an assault to the eyes. You honestly have no idea why you’re sitting here.

Oh, right. It’s like 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon in some downtown office area, so there’s nobody else there. You can just sit and smoke and watch the water spout from the ground in pretty patterns. The steady rhythm of the fountain jets quiets the chaos in your mind.

Inhale. Exhale. As the fountain hisses and ceases, hisses and ceases…

And then suddenly… another pattern.

A pitter-patter. Like little footsteps. Quick moving, and then it stops. Right to your left.

You turn your head and see a little girl sitting right next to you. Her white sneakers look so small next to yours. She pushes a lock of dark ringlets off of her face as she watches the floor fountain in quiet curiosity and awe.

It takes you a moment to realize you still had a cigarette in your hand. You quickly stub it out as far from her as you can. “Uh… hello.” You frown at your own words, but how the fuck do you talk to kids in this situation?!

But the kid looks up and smiles at you politely. “Hello.” she nods and then returns her gaze to the water bursting in canon.

You’re even more confused. She doesn’t even seem deterred by sitting next to a stranger—willingly, at that. “Well, are you… are you alone?” 

“No. With my dad,” she answers, light as a feather.

“Oh, good. Good.” You sigh in relief and look around for any sign of a parent, adult, anyone looking for a missing child. “Where’s your—”

“Lily! There you are!” A man’s voice cuts through the dull noise of the city. You turn around to see him rushing over to the little girl, grimacing apologetically at you. “Sorry. I’m not a negligent father, I swear. I just… turned around and this little monkey’s run off.”

The little girl—Lily, apparently— giggles as her dad throws her a look, gentle but firm. “You said we could watch the water fountains, Daddy!”

“Yeah, but don’t run off like that…” He rolls his eyes, though you notice his sharp jaw twitching with a hidden smile.  And then, leaning into Lily’s ear but still loud enough within your earshot, “And you certainly weren’t supposed to invade this nice lady’s personal space—”

“It’s no trouble. I was just sitting here,” you quickly wave him off.

“Daddy, can I play over there?” Lily points at the streaming water at the center of the park.

The man pulls a face. “I don’t know, Lil—”

“Come on, Daddy…” 

“No way.”

“Just for five minutes. Please?” She bats her eyelashes, and you can immediately tell it’s her father’s Achilles heel. Because as much as you try to stay out of the conversation, you can hear the audible sigh coming from him, followed by,

“Fine. Five minutes, okay?”

The little girl bolts off to the fountains, tiny hands reaching out to the jet streams, testing out how strong it is. Figuring out the fountain pattern and stepping on each jet right as it shuts off, one foot after the other. It makes you wish it was socially acceptable for adults to do that, too. 

“You’re free to sit and watch her from here, if you want.”

He looks at you, like really looks at you for the first time. At your rolled-up button-down, the chain around your neck with a pendant he can’t see under your collar. But mostly at your kind eyes—weathered, witnessed, but somehow not judging.

He pushes his short blond hair out of his face the same way the little girl does, and the similarity almost makes you laugh… if you weren’t so worried about making a fool of yourself in front of this handsome man. “You sure? I… didn’t want to intrude.”

You shake your head softly and scoot over on the steps, allowing him just enough space to sit down.

He notices the stubbed cigarette between your forefinger and middle finger. “You got another one on you?”

It takes you a beat to realize what he’s talking about. “Oh!” You reach for your pack of Camel, and offer it to him, one cigarette stick already pushed out for easier access.

He takes it with a polite smile, but then pauses upon realizing he has no lighter either. “Um, do you mind if I borrow—”

You lean in as he puts it between his lips, one hand cupping the light from the breeze, and his heart stops at how close you are. Close enough to notice the gloss on your lips. Close enough to get a faint whiff of your floral perfume.

(And unbeknownst to him, your heart stutters a little, too, and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you fumble lighting your own cigarette.)

“Thanks, um…” he trails off. 

You tell him your name, and he repeats it almost thoughtfully. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, like he’s chasing the taste of your name as it leaves his mouth.

He nods. “I’m Art.”

He does look like it. The navy blue sweater hangs just right on his broad shoulders, understated but high-quality. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing a sleek black Piguet around his wrist. A simplicity to complement his refined features. His bone structure is cut like the gods, but the permanent frown etched between his brows, casting a shadow over his deep-set eyes, tells you that he is facing the troubles of man. And the awkward way he’s holding his cigarette makes him look like a boy. Of course, you can’t say any of that to him, so you settle with,

“Nice to meet you, Art.”

He can’t remember the last time somebody said that to him and meant it. And right now, sitting in this concrete park alone, he can see no pretense coming from you. No ass-kissing, no sizing-up, just a genuine kind gesture of a stranger. And it makes him so fucking relieved. 

“So what brings you out here?”

“Work, actually. A meeting,” Art replies somewhat vaguely. He’s not really keen on divulging the details of sponsorship and endorsement deals. Not when you don’t seem to know who he is. “Lily saw the park from the window and insisted we check it out when we’re done.”

“Ah, does she normally tag along with you to work meetings?” You ask with a playful glint, although the unspoken question of his whole situation is well heard. “She should. She looks like a great negotiator. Just saying.”

He chuckles. “Maybe she should. My, uh…” Art stops himself before he could say ‘wife’ because Tashi isn’t that anymore. Not his wife because they aren’t married anymore; not his coach either, because he doesn’t play tennis anymore. “Lily’s mom and I take turns every other week.”

And there it is. Your lips pull up into a soft line, not quite a smile but a gesture of understanding. “Must be tough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot of changes. But she’s doing okay, I think…” Art pauses, “I hope.”

You follow his gaze and look at Lily, who must be playing some kind of Indiana Jones fantasy scenario with the water fountains. Not an ounce of care in the world. “She looks like a tough kid.”

“She is.” Art smiles bittersweetly. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to my sob story. What brings you to this park?”

The air that pulls both of you in releases, and you lean back on your elbows against the concrete. “Oh, I just finished work and I… needed some air.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m an interpreter.”

His eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Like the Nicole Kidman movie?”

“Exactly.” You point your half-cigarette at him, and share a tentative smile with him.

“Do you do, like… high-profile, UN-related assassination investigations, too?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “It’s not nearly as cool in real life. Most of it’s pretty boring, like contract negotiations and focus group discussions…”

“But the stories you must’ve heard, right? Or do you just… zone out at some point?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes you end up shutting off your brain and go on autopilot.”

“But not today?”

You smile ruefully at him, and he knows the answer. You take a thoughtful puff of your cigarette. “It’s… a bit hard when they’re talking about… how they had to jump off of the ship and swim across the channel in the dead of night, because they would rather die in the open water—a couple of them did— than die working in the fishing vessel…”

“Fuck.”

“And I know it’s not really meant for me—they’re talking to my client sitting next to me. But when they look you in the eyes and speak to you…” you trail off, taking a long drag of your cigarette.

Art takes it as a cue for his cigarette, too, although he notices you tapping the ashes off one, two, three times. “Must be tough.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him for quoting your own words back to you. “Ah well, it pays the bills. Besides, I get to clock out at 2PM on a Tuesday and enjoy this…” you inhale through your teeth disdainfully, “beautiful, brutalist… Soviet-core park.”

He laughs, the real kind of laughter that throws his head back, and it warms your heart enough to laugh, too. “It’s bullshit, isn’t it?”

“It’s bullshit! And what the fuck is that horrendous giant ring doing here?” The two of you cackle over the installation art across the park. “And that billboard… it’s ridiculous.”

Art’s laughter dies down on his lips as he looks up at the billboard in question. The Aston Martin “Game Changers” campaign from last year. Fuck. Even when he’s completely separated from Tashi, her presence still looms over like a panopticon.

You turn to him with a smile still etched on your face, completely oblivious to the storm in his head. “What?”

But he looks ahead, too caught up in the hurricane to hear you. He just… looks up at the billboard, his face darkens.

Oh.

You feel silly for not putting two and two together—you’ve been staring at the billboard mindlessly for a good fifteen minutes, goddammit— so you tread very carefully. “That, uh… Lily’s mom?”

Art looks down on his lap, as if not daring to look at Tashi’s picture. Or at Lily, or at you. “Yeah.”

There’s no right word for it. There’s no coming back from this, nothing he can say can make this better, and he can’t help but kick himself for fucking up. What he is fucking up, he’s not entirely sure. But he’s not ready to end this conversation with you, not on such a weird note.

“I can’t imagine what it must be like…” because you can’t. Losing a spouse is hard enough, but to have it out there in the open…

“It’s tough,” he nods in confirmation, and you smile feebly at his attempt at a callback to your little inside joke. To the moment where things are fine, all things considered. 

If the air ebbed and flowed earlier, it must’ve just… froze now. You don’t even remember the cigarette in your hand until the ash falls onto your hand and you gasp at the sudden heat, putting it out on the ground.

“I’m sorry. I should get out of your hair—”

“Do you wanna get a drink some time?”

The question catches both of you off-guard, eyes blinking at each other in shock. He didn’t think he heard you right, and your mouth seems to work faster than the filter in your brain.

Your face runs hot, and you chuckle sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t wanna hear that—”

“I do.” He’s not sure which question he’s answering. Maybe both? Definitely both.

“Oh! Um…”

And right in that moment, Lily comes padding over with squelching steps in her shoes, completely drenched but over the moon. “Daddy, Daddy, that was so much fun! Can we come back here? I see lights on the floor, and I think the fountain lights up at night!”

Art puts out his cigarette under his shoe, chuckling at his daughter,  “Baby, you’re soaked! Did you try to take a shower there or something?” immediately wringing water out of her hair.

“I’ll take a real shower when we get home.”

“Well, duh. But I don’t want you to catch a cold… come here.” He crosses his arm to grab the hem of his sweater and tug it over his head to put it on his daughter.

The girl looks thoroughly unamused as the clothing item falls halfway down her calves and the sleeves nearly touch the ground. “Daddy, this is ridiculous.”

You grin, and you can’t help but wonder how much of that sass came from Art. “Looks pretty chic to me.”

He nods at you, glad that you’re backing him up. “Thank you.” He then turns to Lily pointedly.

Lily half-smiles at you. “Thank you,” although she still isn’t quite convinced.

“I’m sorry, we really gotta go. But how do I, um…” he trails off. Gosh, he was hoping to do this out of Lily’s sight. Lily’s sight means Tashi’s sight, and he’s not ready for that talk just yet.

“Take my card.” You whip out a neat stainless steel case, and slides out a white-and-blue business card. Your name is printed in a sleek black font, right above ‘Interpreter’ in a smaller case. Your email and phone number follows.

His fingers brush against yours as he takes it, and he prays to God or whoever is up there that he doesn’t give anything away to you or Lily. Not a quirk, not a peep. Just two strangers connecting by chance.

“Thank you.” He nods evenly as he pockets the card, trying to contain the butterflies in his stomach—he’s always thought he was too old for that by now, but maybe… just maybe… “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.” You squint up at him under the sun, and then smile and wave at the little girl. “Bye, Lily.”

She waves at you as Art sweeps her up into his arms, and you don’t let yourself turn all the way around to watch them leave. Instead, with one final look at Art’s “Game Changers” billboard ad in the distance, you grab your pack of Camel and light another cigarette between your lips.

[backwaterotter]

I've been cooking up a pretty simple AU concept, surrounding a simple idea: What if Purple had been deleted for slightly too long. What if there were permanent after-effects? Then, the only theoretical differentiation between canon and this au concept would be a second of waiting time.

Anyway, I'm working on a fic to go with it, I hope people will enjoy it! You can read it here!

[itslilacokay]

nahhh bro 💀💀💀💀

[daisychainsandbowties]

i love when fic authors write ava being really excited about going to the grocery store it’s like!!! yes! ava is excited to see oat milk. yes she wants to try every variation of haribo candies in every tiny european corner store they visit. yes she loves that things come in cans and that there’s drinks that are blue like in star wars

and also yes to bea seeing her swerve hard away from the baby food aisle. sneering in tandem with her at the applesauce and at cans of watery soup. bea teaching her how to season things so they don’t taste like powerlessness and neglect and hunger and rotting away

sighing indulgently when ava appears with another box of cereal to mow through in one night. bea brushing granola pieces off the bed without a word while ava sits cross-legged on her crumpled-up side with a book in her lap, one hand pressing the pages flat and the other elbow-deep in a box of chocolate hazelnut granola. scattering light crumbs everywhere

just yes to ava loving food and approaching it with so much joy it makes beatrice realise that there is actually something holy in a silce of orange, in a snack cake and in granola crumbs and haribos in the shape of little frogs.

something about how the ones we love feed us and how they can teach us to love. something about love leaking through ava like light through stained glass and beatrice realising that it’s not the sunlight itself that’s beautiful, or the glass all alone, but the two together, shining

[rebouks]

Another chaotic morning in the Finch household.. 🤮

[zishu-arts]

why is AVAM community is talking about farmer!victim??

[hi-avathisside]

eldest daughter core is calling out all the sexist and misogynistic comments in your household.

[seraphinitegames]

First of all thank you for the amazing demo! Can't wait to play more! But it did leave me with a question: is A bothered by the extra work assigned to them if the MC chooses not to have their mother as their handler?

Adam/Ava bothered by extra work? Lol! It would be quite the opposite! :D

I think A would be very happy with not only having that responsibility, but that the MC choose to trust them with that position in the difficult situation. And if you're romancing A, all the better, as it gives A the excuse to spend even more time with the MC!

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

[shy-forceghost]

During S2E4, when Vincent kidnaps Ava with the crown of thorns and Bea looks for her through Madrid, the information she gets from the police is that "a man and woman were seen running towards La Elipa", which is a neighbourhood in Madrid.

La Elipa has a famous graveyard (Nuestra Señora de Almudena) and a chapel of the same name, which is where the "church battle" takes place.

Well, this is the distance Beatrice walked/ran looking for Ava. Girl was on a mission.

[fiddleabout]

warrior nun, ava silva/sister beatrice, M, chapter 9/10

"I'm going to go hide in the walk-ins and take a shot or four," Ava says cheerfully, as if that explains anything. "Liquid courage, you know. Lilith is scary, okay." She bounces on her heels and brushes a kiss over Beatrice's cheek-- ostensibly chaste, realistically too close to her mouth to be anything but taunting-- and leaves Beatrice standing rooted to the floor with her cheeks burning, gone before Beatrice can find the words to explain that Lilith is mostly harmless. She's still rooted in place ten seconds later when Chanel strides by the open door and then pauses, backtracks, points knowingly at Beatrice with a smirk that's scarier than Lilith could ever possibly be. "I'm staying after close," she says, leaving no room for argument. "I wanna see if she actually shoots Ava."

AO3

[forgave-me-not]

☆ the love game ☆ b.s.

just a little blurb to clear the mind warnings: fluff, a bit suggestive

"ugh, you always kick my ass in chess," ben groaned, covering his face and falling back on the rug. you just looked at him and laughed. "and checkers and connect four and dominoes. admit it baby, I'm just too good." you crawl over and beam down at him.

ben sighs. "oh fine. you're...just too good." he mumbles the last bit, trying to get a reaction out of you. it works. "huh? i didn't hear that. could you speak up for me," you say with a smirk. ben sits up on his elbows. "you're. just. too. good. happy now?"

you smile. "happy as a clam." you lay down next to him and put a hand on his chest. "what should we do now? i'm bored," you say cuddling up against his body. "oh really? after all that action in our last game?" you can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

"well, there is one game that we can play. but i only play it with a very special person." ben rolls over to face you. "and who is this person?"

you giggle at his eagerness. "well. they're tall. says they're 6'4'," you look around the living room like there could be anybody listening and then drop your voice to a whisper. "but i think they're lying." ben cocks his head to the side. you continue.

"and they smile. like a lot. and their name starts with a b." ben's eye's widen. "ends with an n." you blink sultrily.

"my dad?"

"oh my god, you're such a moron," you say laughing. ben wraps his arm around your waist. you wiggle from his grasp and shuffle to the couch. "never ever would i say something about that lovely man," you say as the first pillow lands on his face. "you're such a chi-," ben starts. he's cut off by your assault that left every pillow you owned on top of him. satisfied with your handiwork, you stand up, dust yourself off, and put away your chess board. you were just about to make it out of the room before you hear ben's muffled voice.

he moves the pillows from on top of him and places them under his head. "soo, we still gonna play that game," ben calls out from the floor. you lean against the door frame. "we'll have to see about that." a smile simultaneously spreads across both of your faces. ben scrambles to his feet as you spin around the corner and skip to your bedroom. you knew boredom wouldn't be an issue for the rest of the evening.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

art donaldson who crawls up the bed only to find himself above you and FUCKING PLOPS down, covering you in his whole body weight because he just needs to give his love to one person, completely, 24/7

seriously guys i love that we all just think art is That Guy who plops down on top of you bc yes??????

you could be lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone, minding your own business and then he comes in from the gym or from the tennis court (bc you know he would have one at home ofc) and just go, “ohhhh, I’m so tired…” while you let out that strained grunt, “art, you’re crushing me…” and he just kisses your neck and your cheek and wherever else he can reach like,

“No, I’m shrouding you with my love.”

“Well, your love stinks. Go shower.”

And you know he would give you a playful bite before he finally gets up off you 😝

[itslilacokay]

at first i thought the art wouldnt match well with the writing but then after looking at it again i thought "ehhh it kinda works together, sure" and so yeah!

note that i havent done any writing in a while (in fact this is probably the first time ive ever written something like this) so please bear with me on this

A normal picnic, he said.

The others had their suspicions. Especially Red, since they've said something like that before to Green... which led to an.. intense yet overall harmless prank.

Nevertheless, it still was nice to hang out with Green like this again! In fact, it had been a while since all of us got together to hang out like this again ever since Green started prioritizing his channel more..

Speaking of Green.. for some reason he has that phone in his hand. It was almost like he was.. recording. Surely he couldn't be..

And then the ground opened up.

..

A normal picnic, he said. A normal picnic. Normal, normal.. I wish it had been normal.

Of course it was a prank.

It had to have been lava, didn't it? It at least didn't feel like it, but the fact he even thought of pranking us all with fake lava to begin with..

It's already bringing back horrible memories.. why did I have to get reminded of them again..

why, why, why, why...

...

...it wasn't even lava, right?

So why can't I get myself to stand..?

[gonkaccino]

Season 4 hope/prediction: Deb's show is solid, zero issues, runs flawlessly with great ratings, but her personal life is completely eroding. We start with her discovering Marcus is leaving, and it culminates in DJ going into labor right before a taping. Deb chooses the show. When it's over, and she finally flies to Vegas, it's too late -- Aiden's not letting her in because he loves his wife too much to let DJ get into a shouting match with her mom right after giving birth, and instead takes the brunt of Deb's wrath, with her making excuses and talking about how they used her money for IVF, and anyway, DJ's fine, so who cares if she wasn't there? Kathy's in the room with DJ and the baby (DJ's the closest she has to a daughter, after all) and Deb leaves too furious to think about how badly she's hurt her family.

She heads back to her Vegas mansion -- empty, obviously, Josefina and the dogs would be in LA -- and pops open a bottle of wine. Alone. Completely alone. Can't call Marty, she has no friends, the closest she's got would be Kiki and wouldn't that be embarrassing, calling your poker dealer to talk about your feelings --

and then Ava's there. She got the news about DJ's labor, she got the story from Aiden (who was distraught, by the way, man's too much of a sweetheart for Vance drama), a spare key from Damian (happy to pawn that off on her, though if it isn't returned promptly he's taking legal action) and has arrived just in time to see the Deborah Vance having a breakdown the likes of which no one thought physically possible. Crying gives you wrinkles, you know. But Ava has to be here. She's the physical embodiment of a lesson Deb never truly learned: you don't have to like someone to love them.

In my imaginary fantasy land that I am concocting this would then subsequently lead into them fucking nasty but I understand that this may be a step too far for the surprisingly large number of very normal people who watch this show and would forgive JPL for not taking it that far. However I do believe they should fuck about it and let Ava take the reigns in their relationship while they see how many of Deb's bridges they can un-burn.

[zishu-arts]

SJCHSBCUSCBUSCB THE FREEVIC BRAINROT TOOK OVER