#avatrice aus

[closetcasefabray]

hi i’d like to be financially dominated bc i need a laptop that doesn’t die randomly to write these bc i hate writing on my phone. here’s all the avatrice fic ideas i’ve practically laid out & written at @snowandwolves:

- and they were neighbors - this came from the idea of beatrice stress baking & she runs out of sugar, so she asks her neighbor… (prob set in NY bc idk how to NOT write about this city & its weirdness) — starts v cute. gets kinda devastating sorry in advance.

- the 100 au - somehow emotionally more aching but no one (important) dies - ava’s born with a disability & out of wedlock, which means she’s treated as a burden on the ark. her mom was floated when ava was a child. dr. salvius would adopt her if she didn’t have her son michael. but she treats her with ancient technology. beatrice has only known obligation to her people on the ground. loss is to be expected as commander. love is weakness. then, yknow, a girl with a halo falls from the stars & what other choice does beatrice have but to fall too?

- fallout 4 au - beatrice wakes up 200 years of cryo sleep when the bombs dropped. her parents who afforded the vault died. her secret romance with lucia makes her long for closure. she makes her way to diamond city looking for answers and meets a nosy reporter who enjoys causing problems for diamond city’s mayor. ava and her “brother” diego are doing their best to find the truth in the hellscape that is 2224. (also just imagine bea in power armor—“my knight in semi-rusted armor!” — ava prob)

- college au - i’ve written bits on here before (also set in NY bc idk what college town culture is like) - beatrice has everything planned out. ava is winging everything bc she was never supposed to get this far. (there’s a sequel to it that i’m plotting too & i’m sorry…)

- now & then au - it’s the 90s. basically i watched the scene where roberta plays baseball with boys. “girls can’t play ball. why don’t you go home and play with your dolls??” (“the only dolls ava has are GI Joes…” — camila) [ava punches him] beatrice pulls her off of him. “psycho bitch. too bad your mom’s dead and can’t teach you to act like a lady” [cue beatrice pushing ava back so she can kick his ass—gets a fat lip & black eye but NO ONE says that shit to ava.]

- airbnb au - (let’s pretend this isn’t messing up the housing market 😭 ) bea is financially independent of her parents & needs cash so she’s a superhost. where bea lives is quiet & peaceful. ava fucks that up. in an ava silva perfect kinda way. ava visits once a year over several years. they start falling in love but ava never stays.

less hashed out ideas:

- smallville/superman/supergirl au

- avatar/lok au

- this is how you lose the time war au (bc that book is my roman empire—all versions & threads of it)

if these exist already my b but i promise promise it’s coincidental—haven’t been reading much fics lately (other than seabiscuit’s western au).

anyway… back to work.

[imvec]

Sequel to Sunshade

[simplykorra]

bts of kristina on the set of love is a monster

[lovelooksgudonu]

country side avatrice au✨ this is how I imagine them in their lil garden. also, B is probably crying inside bc Ava touched her face with her dirty gloves lol

[princington]

beside you

[smallandsundry]

a little more of the 90s au @simplykorra and i have been working on

the rest of the au is here

aaand the link to the the bit i can't put here

[thistleation]

Here she is! My final piece for the Avatrice Big Bang event!

Sadly, my partner could not complete the fic for real life reasons, but the concept and pieces they shared with me inspired me enough to finish the artwork.

This was the original description:

"Ava Silva is a free-spirited painter aching to settle down. Her current muse, the Málaga shore and skies, bring her to the beach every day. 

Beatrice Young owns a surf school in Málaga and likes her life just the way it is. 

Until she meets Ava and her entire world is turned upside down. Until she meets Ava and suddenly she wants something – someone – more than she has ever wanted anything in her life. But can she escape her past before it’s too late and she loses the best thing she’s ever had?"

(The piece is meant to represent Beatrice daydreaming of Ava as she glides across the waves 💖)

Thank you everyone who was a part of this! This event has pushed me artistically like few things have done, and I've made some of the best friends of my life because of it.

I love you all!

IT'S FUCKING DONE!

[imvec]

Sunshade

-> Sequel

[jtl07]

a college theater au that's been in the back of my mind and just gonna let free for shenanigans because why not

"Bea can do it!"

silence drops suddenly, swiftly, completely throughout the black box. Beatrice doesn't know if she's ever felt the theater be this still as she herself freezes, half-kneeling in the midst of the cables she was arranging, carefully not looking at neither Shannon -one of her oldest friends and the director and the one who can and will see everything on her face- nor at Ava -her best friend, her (supposedly not so, according to Shannon) secret crush- who plows forward with her trademark fervor and lack of grace.

"she’s been helping me with all my lines -"

"helping is a strong word," Bea mutters to herself.

"- and she already knows all the blocking-"

"because that's my job"

"and the audience is gonna love her even more than they love me. Shannon, think of how good it could be!"

Beatrice can feel Shannon wavering but final project or not, Beatrice has to protest. "Ava, i can’t possibly stage manage and act at the same time.”

"it's not impossible," Shannon says thoughtfully, "and it's just for one of the plays."

"we can all help out," Mary chimes in, not even looking up from her screen as she continues programming the lighting. the others are already nodding and smiling encouragingly and for once in her life, Beatrice wants to curse: this production for bringing together her most favorite and the most supportive of people; JC for being a kind-hearted son who'd dropped everything -including this production- to take care of his suddenly ill mother; and Ava for her logic and that pout and that look in her eyes -

breathe, her mind commands, and she does, sharply, deeply. goes over the facts: opening night is 2 weeks away; it's one play in a half-dozen collection of 1-act plays; the production is worth 40% of Shannon's final grade; no one else can help. in her mind, Beatrice tries to argue the last point - tries to suggest one of the other actors but she knows that both Camila and Lilith have their hands full with their roles for the other short plays; tries to suggest finding someone else but how could they possibly audition and rehearse with someone completely new in the time they have left?

then she makes a mistake, a classic one: she catches Ava's eye. finds in Ava's gaze hope and encouragement wrapped up in that warm regard that makes Beatrice do stupid things - like trying every ice cream store within a 10 mile radius of campus and having to deal with Ava's inevitable stomachache; like staying up until 2am watching Beatrice's favorite documentaries because had Ava insisted, because Ava'd said she was interested; like letting herself start to believe - that maybe, just maybe Ava could feel the same way too.

like saying: "fine." sighs for good measure "fine."

Ava cheers and Beatrice doesn't miss the relief that moves through everyone else -she ignores Shannon's swiftly hidden grin- then stands still when Ava bounds towards her and kisses her on the cheek.

"there's more where that came from," Ava giggles, waggling her eyebrows as she shimmies away and Beatrice freezes for a second time that day.

because she forgot.

the kiss.

fuck, Beatrice thinks - knows the only one she curse for this is herself.

[lovelooksgudonu]

someone's jealous🤷

*Michael breathes*

Beatrice: that's absurd

avatrice doodle

[call-me-maggie13]

Beatrice doubts she’s ever been so nervous. Her head is spinning and she fidgets with the bundle in her hands, brown paper crinkling as she tugs softly on the tiny yellow bow wrapped around it.

She hesitates on the front step, considers tossing the bouquet into the bin closest to her and running the opposite direction. This is possibly the worst decision of her entire life. Completely unprompted. She should’ve consulted Shannon.

"Oh." Ava pauses in the doorway, one foot on the stone steps mere inches away from Beatrice. "Were you…"

Beatrice feels her face burn when Ava’s eyes settle on the red tulips in her arms. Eleven red and a single yellow tulip.

Red tulips. A declaration of love.

"Mama, move it!" Diana pushes through Ava’s legs, stumbling into the daylight like a newborn deer, squinting against the sun until her eyes adjust and she recognizes Beatrice, grinning and leaping into her. "Papa!"

Beatrice can’t look away from Ava, she’s analyzing every micro expression that passes over her face. Ava knows what it means. Perhaps Valentine’s Day isn’t the time for this. Beatrice should’ve waited.

"Papa!" Diana yanks on Beatrice’s coattail, pointing to the brown paper bundle in her arms. "What’s it?"

Beatrice forces herself to thaw, heart pounding against her ribs as she swallows it from the back of her throat.

"It’s a gift. For you and… and your mama." Finally, Ava lifts her eyes, cheeks pink and lips parted. Beatrice fumbles over the flowers, trying to find the yellow tulip to tug free for Diana. But she doesn’t look away from Ava.

Beatrice had really hoped to catch them while Diana was still napping so she would have time to process before attending to the little girl. In fact, she probably had arrived while Diana was napping but she’d spent so long doubting herself that Diana had awoken.

Diana takes her flower from Beatrice, inspects it quietly before extending it for Ava to admire.

Beatrice hadn’t meant to declare her love for Ava in the snowy, winter air. She hadn’t meant for it to be a grand gesture. It was meant for Ava alone. For her and Ava.

She’d had a speech prepared for Ava’s tiny entryway, her stained linoleum tiles, her crayon colored walls.

I’m yours. She had wanted to say. For as long as you’ll have me.

Beatrice offers the remaining bouquet to Ava, extending them for Ava to either accept or deny. Waiting for Ava to either accept her or turn her away.

The next second moves impossibly slow. Ava steps toward the tulips, hand reaching to brush their petals before moving away. Beatrice’s heart falls, sinking deep into her stomach. Ava has been considering the best way to reject her. Beatrice has read too deep into their interactions. She’s misinterpreted and ruined everything and -

Oh.

Ava’s lips are soft and warm against hers, tender and tentative. Beatrice’s mind has barely processed what was happening before Ava is pulling away, apologies clouding the minuscule space between them until Beatrice surges forward and they crash together again.

They haven’t kissed since they returned from Christmas. Beatrice isn’t certain why, not a single moment has passed that she hasn’t thought about kissing Ava. The thought had overtaken her, pulsed deep in her veins until she’d had to pull away, little by little, creating a chasm between them. A chasm flowing with anxiety and worry.

She’s not certain what she’d ever fret over before because this might the only thing Beatrice had ever been certain of in her life.

They’re only pulled apart by a high whine from Diana, a cry of boredom and annoyance. Even then, they linger in each other, noses brushing and breath mixing.

Beatrice still hasn’t found the words she’d rehearsed previously, only four she hadn’t considered tumble past her lips into the shared air betwixt them.

"Will you be mine?" The uncertainty lingers only a moment before Ava pulls away to giggle, nodding rapidly and blushing deeply. She flings her arms around Beatrice’s neck and buries her nose there, effectively knocking the flowers from Beatrice’s hand. Beatrice doesn’t much mind.

"I thought I already was."

Find more here!

[princington]

...Having you

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[smallandsundry]

more 90s au!

there's a quite a bit of unfinished 90s au up on patreon including a less...clothed.. sketch...

[thistleation]

It is with not inconsiderable pride and satisfaction that I bring you the companion art to Concept of a Hero, the superhero smau by my amazing partner Roman, for the Avatrice Big Bang event.

It took some blood, sweat and tears, but I'm very proud of completing this piece that challenged me to push my boundaries (most important of which: actually finishing a piece)

I'm so glad I made it, I love everyone from this event and a HUGE thank you to Erin, for putting the whole thing together.

[foryourmajesty]

But I would lay my armor down, if you said you'd rather love than fight

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