#will she and amara ever interact

[daisypreaker]

I hate writing politics into fic because it's so - argh - I'm not here for that, I'm here for the characters interacting. But Aliandra Martell being 18 and newly becoming the Princess of Dorne whilst the influence of a Dornish woman in King's Landing is growing ever greater is a thread too juicy not to pull I think.

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ CHAPTER THREE: LOVE'S DREAM

violet; 1,823 words; fluff, drama, smau-intermission, hockey!vi, figure skater!reader, bff!mel, platonic gym soulmates!vijayce, vander doing his vander thing, fake dating, no "y/n"

summary: in which mel and jayce are trying their best to be supportive best friends.

a/n: this is a super short chapter compared to the others, i know buT ! we have some cute lil text interactions so i hope u guys enjoy those ;) FIRST DATE coming up next chapter so this is just setting up the stage for that ! <3

< table of contents

─── Ⅵ “— YOU HAVE TO GET LOWER in that sit spin — and the footwork after your Triple Sal needs work —”

You nod, frowning at the tiny little scribblings in Amara's notebook as you fidget with your gloves.

Amara sighs, reaching out to cup your cheek, “Speak to me, sweet girl. You’ve been so distracted.”

You purse your lips, blinking at her as the cold presses against your back, ever the reassuring friend.

“It’s nothing — I just… I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”

Amara’s sharp eyes flicker over your face, and her lips thin into a terse line as you pull away, reaching for your water bottle.

“Hm. Well, let me know if you need anything prescribed — I know you don’t like them but sometimes, it really does help —”

“I’ll be fine, Amara. Let’s — let’s go through it again from the top.”

You push away from the barricade, your eyes catching on the hockey team as they file in from the doors, joking and jostling, huge sports bags slung across their shoulders.

The music starts, slow and sparkling, the piano notes working up in arpeggios, and through the fogged up plastic, your eyes meet Vi’s for a second before you slip into the routine.

On the other side, Vi’s breath catches as she watches you flow through the opening steps of your program. On the speakers, the piano music builds into a rising crescendo — someone behind her bumps her to get her moving again, and she stumbles forward, her eyes still caught on you as she lets the tide of her teammates carry her towards the lockers, her neck on a swivel as you fly across the ice.

“Good, isn’t she?”

Vi jumps at the sound of Vander’s voice, and he grins, watching her watch you with a knowing sort of smirk before his expression softens and he reaches out to pat her shoulder.

“So what’s this I hear about you dating Amara’s top girl?”

Vi balks, “I — uh — it’s —”

Vander lets out a booming laugh, “’S alright, you’ve always liked the pretty, talented ones, eh?” he ruffles her hair and she pushes at his large hand.

“Shut up,” Vi murmurs, rolling her shoulders as she turns back to watch you.

The music swells around you, gathering like sunlight, and you, buoyed up by the sheer magnetism of it all, spinning through the air in a flawless jump, landing with a smooth hiss of blades on ice. Your body lengthens as the music slows, and Vi finds herself once more gasping for a breath she doesn’t remember holding.

“The song’s nice,” she says, watching as you work through a complicated series of steps and spins, Amara tapping her hand against the barricade to each of your changes of edge. Vi feels her heart threading up her throat as Vander chuckles.

“It’s called Liebestraum. Know what it means?” He glances at her.

Vi shakes her head, not daring to take her eyes from you as you swirl into a spin so fast you’re nothing more than a blur of thin limbs and wispy hair. She can taste her heartbeat pulsing on her tongue as you spiral out of the spin, your cheeks red as you work through the final few steps of the routine and the music trails off into silence.

Your lashes flicker and again, your eyes find hers through the paneled plastic.

“Love’s dream,” Vander says, nudging her lightly before turning to herd the rest of the hockey team towards the lockers, leaving Vi standing there, dizzy as she stares at you and you stare right back.

On the ice, you’re chest is burning, your head spinning as you tear your eyes away from Vi and skate back towards Amara, who’s smiling just wide enough for you to know she’s pleased.

“Excellent,” she says, snapping her little notebook shut, her wine-red lips pressing in triumph, “good — whatever you were picturing then, darling, you’d best keep a hold on it. Because that’s what’ll get you to Olympics gold, my dear.”

You give her a faint nod, your heart thumping somewhere near your jugular as you chance a glance back at where Vi was standing.

But, she was already gone.

You waltz out of the rink, humming to yourself. A second later, a pair of arms loops through yours, and you’re accosted by the scent of lavender perfume.

“What’s got you in such a good mood, hm?” Mel asks as the pair of you turn into the parking lot, bracing yourselves against the mid-autumn chill.

“It was a good practice,” you say, not quite able to keep the skip out of your step as the pair of you make your way towards your car, pulling open the back door to toss your skating things inside.

“Yeah, so I saw,” Mel says, her voice low as she slips into the passenger’s seat, “Amara was nearly floating when you got off the ice.”

You smile, starting the engine, letting out a sigh of relief as warm air blasts out of the vents.

“So. Violet.”

You slam on your break halfway through pulling out of the parking space, sending the pair of you jolting in your seats, Mel yelping as her torso jerks forward.

“S-sorry —”

“What on earth was that?”

“Nothing!” you insist, easing your foot off the break and pulling out of the space to turn towards the main street. “You just… caught me off guard.”

Mel folds her arms, “Don’t waste your breath lying to me, darling.”

You sigh, pausing at stop sign before turning right onto campus.

“Fine. What about Violet?”

Mel glances at you, “Have you… spoken to her at all?”

“Yeah. A couple times.”

“And?”

“And, what?”

Mel scoffs, “Have you guys —” she motions vaguely with her fingers, “worked anything out?”

“We —” you lick your lips, “we’re going on a date this weekend.”

“A date? Are you — are you sure this is a good idea?”

You pull the car into student parking and sigh, switching off the engine.

“Mel, you were the one that set us up in the first place!”

“I — I just thought it’d be nice for you to get a little action, that’s all — I didn’t think you’d go and land yourself in a situationship with the hockey team’s most infamous bleeding heart!”

You gape at her for a solid three seconds before groaning and slumping back in your seat, tugging off your seatbelt.

“Yeah well — what’s done is done and —” you run a hand down your face, frowning at your phone screen as another text from Vi pops up on your notifications.

Mel has the base decency not to peer over your shoulder, though you don’t miss the way her eyes flash towards it.

“Fine,” Mel concedes, “where’re you going for this date, then?”

You shove your phone into your school bag and grab a scarf from the back seat.

“The boozy cupcake place.”

“Oh! That’s a good one. Me and Jayce went there a lot in the beginning —”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, grinning as the pair of you duck out of the car, the door slamming closed behind you.

The wind picks up and you both make for the main building, heads bent.

“Just —” Mel turns to you as the pair of you part ways at the foot of the stairs leading up to your separate lecture halls, her eyes flickering over your face, “be careful, alright? And…” her smile is warm as she reaches out to tap your cheek, “if she ever does anything to hurt you… you let Jayce and I know, hm?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Thanks, Mel.”

She pulls you in for a quick hug before you turn down the hallway towards the Stats lecture hall, a tingling warmth spreading through your chest all the way out to your fingertips.

“— ninety-seven, ninety-eight — c’mon Lanes, I know you got a few more in you — ninety-nine — one-hundo —”

Vi huffs, grunting as she readjusts her grip on the pullup bars and hoists herself up again, her arms burning as she holds it for a three count before dropping down with a loud exhale.

“I thought we were takin’ it easy today, pretty boy.”

Jayce chuckles, lying back on the bench press even as Vi hovers over the bar, staring down at him.

“No such thing as easy on a pump day,” he says, even as Vi rolls her eyes, settling in to watch him grip the bar and push it off the rack with a grunt.

“S-so —” Jayce says, his voice slightly strained as he works through his sets, “how’ve things been going with —” he cuts off as he sucks in a breath and holds it.

“With little miss Olympics?” Vi supplies.

Jayce makes a grunting noise.

“We’re going on a date this weekend.”

Jayce nearly chokes as his grip slips on the bar and Vi’s hands shoot out to catch hold of it before it can crush his trachea.

“What? Where’re you taking her? Does Mel know?”

Vi snorts, “Probably, since Mel’s like her self-assigned den mother — uh, this… boozy cupcake place?” Vi frowns as she grabs her phone to try and pull it up.

“Oh! I know that place — on Centre street — Mel and I used to go there a lot when we started dating. The cupcakes are huge though.”

Vi stares, her thumb hovering over her phone screen as she stares at Jayce. Then, she breaks into a soft, exasperated laugh.

“Yeah… she said she’d been meaning to go but… she didn’t have anyone to share the cupcakes with.”

Jayce opens his mouth, but he pauses as Vi drops her eyes back to her phone, a faint smile playing at her lips as she scrolls through something on her screen.

“Careful there, Lanes,” Jayce says, reaching out to nudge her with a leg, “you’re starting to sound a little lovesick.”

“We haven’t even gone on a real date,” Vi says, looking up sharply.

Jayce nods, putting a solemn hand on her shoulder, “Yeah, I know.”

Vi’s mouth drops open as she gapes at him for a second before slamming her mouth shut again with a groan.

Jayce grins, “Hey, look on the bright side — at least half the campus is convinced you guys’ve been official for weeks. So even if someone does see you simping, it’s not that weird, right?”

“You better watch yourself, Talis. Next time, I’ll just let that bar drop on your fuckin’ throat,” Vi says, but she’s grinning as Jayce lays back down to start a new set.

taglist: @traiitorjoe@rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly@drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22@lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless@armins-slvt@lin-elizabeth @ryescapades @kingkamk @princesssmars @chobssss @mybelovedvi @bouqette @noietta @brooks-lin @ally-all-around @bunnyrose01 @stumpystump @lia-winther @folklore13lover @sawaagyapong @sevikas-whore @sunflowerwinds @taurtel @tourmalinetyrone @oidloid @marcylated @krisziepowlet @vikaswife @pa-co @devotedlyelectronicartisan @aliluvszs @elliecoochieeater

[beeandthescreen]

AMARA | AGENT OF THE C.O.P

My Viltrumite OC! Hihi

More about Coalition of Planets Agent Mar Mar ❤️

She’s been on a five year probation period doing non-lethal work within the organization (yeah, even if nobody knows she’s a Viltrumite, Thaddeus does, and he will forever be sus of his own kind which is so real of him.)

She interacts with approximately 3 people. Allen, Thaddeus, and Allen’s boo Telia. To anyone else, she’s just a random agent that shows up in their peripheral sometimes.

Despite having been away from the empire for 5 years, her own personal development has been nonexistent.

Like yeah, she’s no longer forced to kill people, huzzah- But there’s a million other issues she hasn’t even begun to acknowledge. All of which will come to a head when she’s sent to earth and has to uhm…be a person? Interact with people? Yeah.

Her only friends, of which she sees seldom of, are Allen and Telia. They do not know anything about her besides she’s really good at her job, shes real quiet, and she doesn’t really know anything about anything.

They take her in— kind of like a pet. They hang out with her when they can, and teach her things she asks about. Still, with their schedules always conflicting, there isn’t enough room for growth.

C.O.P Amara (pre-Mark) fun facts!

1. She sleeps on the floor.

2. When she is not on a mission, she sits in her room and ponders. Sometimes, she even writes notes in her communicator tablet.

3. She has no birthday, but she knows she is 24. She goes by new year. She doesn’t really care.

4. At night, she tries to remember her mother’s face, but it gets increasingly difficult as time passes.

5. She only eats protein blocks. She has not tried any of the actual food on the coalition’s base and doesn’t plan to.

6. She only drinks water.

7. She has never watched a movie. Nor consumed any fictitious media. Ever.

8. She has never cut her hair, and is finally able to let it down. She wore the ugliest bun in the empire.

9. She does not know that people have sex for fun.

10. She’s fond of Allen, and does not like seeing him return hurt. She would offer to give him lessons, but Thaddeus does not want her to employ her strength on others.

[ravenwind-75]

In memory of Lin @dwightschrute11-deactivated2025 a brilliant light and talented artist who brought joy and laughter to all. Left April 2025.

(Who I hope is well and returns someday)

Salutations to Calypso

Word count: 822

Unedited

Author’s note: To everyone who doesn’t know she deactivated I apologize. I hope it’s okay I included your mcs as I saw her interact with you the most.

This is very sensitive for me to post but I think it’s needed. We shall not forget one of our own.

~~~~~~ ❤️‍🩹

Something happens when someone leaves suddenly. People pretend to move on but no one sees them clinging to the pieces left behind by that precious person. Looking over the old pictures over and over. Crying and laughing while reading through every old message. They catch themselves thinking “oh I can’t wait to tell so and so this!”

They question themselves if they did anything wrong or was there something they could have done that they didn’t. Could they have noticed it, could they have made them stay?

That’s where Johanna found herself, broken and tear stained.

She’d gone for a visit. It had been a month since she’d seen Calypso and she wanted to check in and surprise her. She could imagine how her dear friend's eyes would dance and how she’d shriek with so much enthusiasm. Perhaps she would have convinced Jo to watch a horror movie and they would have screamed and laughed together.

But what she found when she knocked on her door was silence. The house was completely empty and devoid of the life Calypso usually had. There were no flowers in the windows, no music playing. Not a sign of her precious camera or scrapbooks, or a drawing utensil in sight. Not even a note.

She went to Carollota first, one of Cal’s many girlfriends, and she even didn’t know. They checked all her old haunts, everywhere she would have gone. But there was no sign of her. The girls sat together in sadness on the porch and talked about life, the things they might have shared with Calypso.

Auri was the next one to have Johanna haunt her doorstep. She answered the door cursing only to pause when she saw her grave face. Auri didn’t have many friends but Calypso had won her over. So she let Jo in and offered her a drink. Why was it everyone she ever loved left? Johanna wondered too.

They drank until they fell asleep.

Auri had just seen Cal hours ago.

Avania was next. Johanna held the taller girl as she wept. What more was there to say? No one knew what to do.

One by one Jo told everyone and one by one they eventually accepted it. However they couldn’t go on without remembering her, not with everything she did and how bright she shone. They gathered together on the first day of May, her birthday.

The location was a flower filled meadow overlooking the ocean, which were two of Calypso’s favorite places to go.

And how fitting that it was snowing, Calypso loved the cold.

Sally and Clora set up a little tea party and the girls all sat around pleasantly visiting and sharing their favorite moments with the white haired, green eyed, sunshine like Calyspo.

Siobhan spoke on how she loved to rest among her wild curls and play ratatouille. Lorrain recalled the days spent taking photos and collecting flowers for Cal's scrapbook. Inger and Lyssa choked back tears as they laughed with Jo about the time she turned Sebastian into a chicken and made flower crowns. Millie, Eloise, Violette, Lamie, Aura, Lyla and Clora about how she wanted to steal them from Sebastian. Evelynne and Johanna chimed in that it was the same with Ominis, Gwyn and Inger said the same about Garreth.

“Practically everyone from everyone,” commented Amara.

Many tears, laughter and memories were shared by the time evening came. A line of Sebastian’s plus the other partners waited for them to finish up and come home. Yet they weren’t done yet. With heartfelt words of love they left something special. A hair clip, a stuffed animal, flowers, a line of polaroids, and a scrapbook full of unfinished drawings, and stories. A shrine to Calypso, a shrine of their love for her.

They hugged goodbye and parted ways, promising they would all stay in touch. They knew friendship was eternal. No matter what, Calypso would still be their friend until time ended. Even if there were no more tea parties, no more sabotaged dates, no more frolicking in meadows, or ice skating in the snow.

Soon it was just Jo left, shivering in the cold wind blowing up from the ocean to toss her chocolate waves around her face. She didn’t know if the salt she tasted came from that or from what her tears left behind.

Ominis wordlessly wrapped a coat around her and took her hand, leading her towards a lonely floo flame, back to their warm home. Her ever steady rock.

He let her pause by the shrine, and she pulled a tube of red lipstick from her pocket, placing it amid the pile of treasures. “In case you feel like crashing my wedding someday. Goodbye for now.”

Yes people move on, but the heart never really does. The memories blowing around like pictures in the breeze. And with someone as good a friend as Calypso, the wind never stops.

The end….

~~

MCS in order of mention

@ladyofsappho Carlotta

@rypnami Auri

@starry-slithers Avania

@siboom777 Sally

@choccy-milky Clora

@wrongcog Siobhan

@heylorrain Lorrain

@ethniee Inger

@silvyadrakkon Lyssa

@the-ozzie Millie

@myokk Eloise

@syaolaurant Violette

@lamieboo Lamie

@morelikeravenbore Aurelie

@keri-mcberry Lyla

@libellule-ao3 Evelynne

@pierrot-dokki Gywn

@boxdstars Amara

[rockybloo]

Singer x Listener Licorice AU.

Amara likes Bitterbat's music and has been a listener for awhile and manages to win front row seats to a concert of his by sheer luck (because his seats are always sold out).

Bitterbat, while performing on stage, goes to have one of those audience interactions you see singers do occasionally with people that are super close to the front to the point of being able to get high fives.

By absolutely chance, he and Amara lock eyes. She is ecstatic to have a singer she really enjoys perceive her but Bitterbat has just fell in love and planned their whole life together within 5 seconds.

But the show must go on and he's got a whole concert to finish but you bet your ass he is stealing glances at her. ESPECIALLY when he has to perform some of his sultry love songs.

Amara will think she's just imagining things whenever she catches him looking in her direction and sees him lock on her. And she can't help but feel the songs are suddenly different than they were in the beginning of the concert, before Bitterbat noticed her.

It's almost as though he's directing them toward her now, especially with how she feels like there's some kind of spotlight on her.

But this is the first concert she's ever attended so she figures this is just how front row seats normally feel.

Amara has no idea Bitterbat is brainstorming ways to somehow get her number or social media after he gets off stage. ANYTHING that will make sure she doesn't disappear from him in the sea of fans he's got.

She is completely oblivious to the fact that her tickets don't also come with backstage access or the promise of a selfie with the singer. That was all a lie that Bitterbat spun and got people to tell her so he could have some 1-on-1 time with her.

Thing were kept professional - Bitterbat kept his smooth singer act up and left a great first impression on his newfound favorite fan (and future wife). He couldn't get as much information out of her as he would have liked but he knew if he pressed too hard, he might scare her off. And that was def something he didn't want with the way she seemed to glow from head to toe over being able to meet him.

The interaction was shorter than he'd like, even though Amara thought it was much longer than she would have expected a singer meet to go. The meeting is ended with a selfie between the two and Bitterbat feels like the luckiest guy on Earth for the 2 minutes it takes for them to get a picture together.

And he feels even luckier that night when, while back in his hotel room, after endlessly scrolling through all the tagged notifications on his social media from fans who attended his concert, he finally finds her.

Amara's tagged selfie, with a mere 5 likes, and 2 repost.

A wide grin comes to his face as he increases the likes to 6 and reposts the picture.

Amara's phone blows up with interactions. Many calling her lucky, others freaking out over how happy Bitterbat looks in her picture. The one thing that grabs Amara's attention the most is the comment Bitterbat left underneath their picture.

"Being able to perform for such wonderful fans truly makes me feel like the luckiest guy on earth! Thank you for coming to see me, Sweetheart~😘"

She blushes as she reads the sentences over and over again. She lets out a squeal or two as she speed walks around her room freaking out over Bitterbat's comment. It takes her a bit to calm down her racing heart as she collapses on her bed, reminding herself that he was just being nice. All celebrities are overly sweet with their fans. However, when she notices he's now following her, the squeals and fangirling kicks right back up again.

Meanwhile, Bitterbat is scrolling through her page, learning all there is to know about her like her favorite places to eat out at, her favorite series, even her favorite song of his.

Speaking of songs, he's even working on a brand new album inspired by her. He's already thinking up all the fan meet-and-greets and events he could attend while in her home city. He's even prepared to DM her with tickets to all his future concerts. HELL he's ready to DM her in general just to talk to her again and learn all about her.

The bat no longer desires to sing solo after finding someone to do a duet with.

[grlmmjow]

Using the tadpole to show Astarion his face

Hi! This is... my first time coming back to tumblr after a long streak of inactivity. BG3 and Astarion brought me back.

I'm on my fourth run, my first dark urge. And I'm literally obsessed with them. I have a nice little story building up with Amara, my durge, and Astarion.

For now, I've just written a reimagining of the mirror scene in camp. I believe we've all always wondered why we have never showed him his face with the help of the tadpole... Well. It's now canon that Amara did that for Astarion in my run. And here is how it went!

I hope you enjoy! And please, keep in mind that English is not my first language. I do my best, though.

Rating: non-explicit

Pairing: Astarion/Dark Urge (Amara)

Word Count: 2014.

Summary: It's just the mirror scene reimagined to stream Astarion's face directly into his brain like we've all dreamed to do once.

More:

Don’t forget to feed your vampire…

Running after Astarion on the docks

Ecstasy 🔞

I get to live, and you get to rot

It was a chilly night, despite the summer. 

Amara had been feeling a wave of… almost calmness for the first time in weeks. Shadowheart was tending the fire, Gale was lost in his tomes… Even Karlach seemed to be entertained enough with Wyll.

For the first time in weeks, they had an objective. A goal. And they stopped running around in circles, scared to know if there were going to be slimy tentacles in their future. They liked each other enough to be able to begin to form friendships. Which was a lot, considering Amara had no memory of her life prior to waking up on that beach. 

Despite everything.. Amara was feeling content. Having a goal was good. Having friends was good. The need to slaughter and maim was… controlled, somehow. And her stomach was full with very nice food. Gale was a surprisingly good cook, after all.

Tonight is a good night…

“Another thing I’ve lost!” The distinct tone of a certain vampire spawn interrupted her calmness, and she felt a wave of irritation wash over her, the magic in her veins crispling and itching to soar through her fingertips. Ugh. Having to control her dark urges wasn’t enough, apparently. She also had to be very careful dealing with her wild magic. Last time she let go, she transformed half the party into cats and dogs. Oh, she swears Karlach is still cackling to this day about that.

Her mismatched eyes focused on the source of the noise. Astarion seemed to be cursing a hand mirror, bending down to pick the pieces of the glass he just shattered against the ground. She decided to approach him, feeling confident that he liked her enough to keep her company. They had had a very pleasant night together, after all. Sometimes, she still wondered if he took her virginity that night. There’s no way to know what she had been up to in her past life.

“Hey. That was a nice mirror.” She mentioned, trying to sound casual, but startling the vampire. He seemed to be on edge, and he turned around to glare at her, a faint moment of vulnerability showing through before his calm mask slipped back on and he turned that frown upside down. 

“Oh, why hello there, darling.” He said in his silky tone. Amara had to hold back an eye roll. That had to be the fakest smile she’s ever seen in her life. Which, to his credit, is not long enough, considering her amnesia. 

She had begun to understand him. To see him. His demeanor, his nightmares, the way he tensed when an enemy restrained him one specific way…  

The way he refused to lock eyes with her when they made love two nights ago.

“Why did you do that, Astarion?” She asked, pointing at the mirror. The question seemed to ruin his mood. 

“Oh, you know. I had a moment of… weakness. It’s nothing that won’t pass in the morning. Don’t you worry, darling.”

Again with the silky tone and the endearing terms. She had been beginning to hate the way it sounded so fake in her ears. Couldn’t he trust her enough not to be perfect every time they interacted?

“Will it?” She raised an eyebrow, stepping a bit closer to him. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness outwardly, but his jaw clenched at her proximity. 

“Yes.” He said, lowering his chin and narrowing his eyes to send the message. He didn’t enjoy showing weakness. That much was clear. 

“Alright.” She said, not believing him for a moment. She knew he had.. a lot of issues. His former master and torturer made sure he didn’t live a day free of his torment, not even after being snatched away from his grasp. 

She watched him gather the pieces of glass in his hands, and seemed surprised for a moment when she realized what was upsetting him. His fingers weren’t being reflected in the mirror, even if he was holding it in his hands.

Oh.

That must be terribly upsetting for a creature that lived for vanity. 

“...Were you upset that you couldn’t see your face?” She asked bluntly, and Astarion recoiled. He really, truly didn’t want to talk about this. But something in the way she spoke to him, with curiosity instead of disgust, made him turn his gaze at her. 

“I… Yes.” He answered, setting the pieces of the mirror on the table next to him outside his tent. “I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Not even… in the water?”

“No reflections, darling. That’s how it works.” 

He seemed irritated. Amara wanted to ask him a lot more instances and examples of ways he could have seen his reflection… but she imagined he had already tried everything.

The sorcerer tilted her head. She studied his features, considering that it was such a shame that he didn’t get to preen in a mirror, considering just how handsome he was. 

But then, a thought occurs to her. She gasps, clasping her hands together in front of her. “... And what about mind reading?”

Astarion scoffed. “Mind reading?” But there was the slightest hint of hope in his tone, in his gaze. There it is, Amara thought. Finally. A bit of sincerity.

“Yes. We have been using it all the time. I can hear your thoughts, Astarion. Why couldn’t I just… show you your face like that?”

“What?” He froze, the only movement in his face was the rapid blinking of his eyelids as he processed the information. “You would do that for me?”

Amara looked almost flabbergasted. Why the hells is he doubting me, again? She tried to swallow down her irritation, and nodded as an answer.

“Yes, Astarion. I will show you your face. Come here.” 

She stepped closer to him, close enough for their chests to brush together. Her gaze lifted as his own dropped, his red eyes meeting her green and brown stare. She felt him studying her freckled cheeks, and for a moment felt self-conscious. Such a beautiful creature was surely making a judgement on every imperfection on her skin. 

“Close your eyes.” And he listened, surprisingly letting out a long sigh without a protest. Amara’s hands came to rest on his shoulders, and Astarion leaned in to press his forehead against Amara’s. She needed a moment to school her rapidly beating heart. He’ll know if you get too excited. Calm down, damn you!”

Closing her own eyes, Amara took a deep breath, focusing first on not letting her magic ruin this moment. She needed to make sure nothing wild happened. She was sure Astarion wouldn’t trust her again if he was suddenly turned into a sheep.

After a few moments, she felt confident enough to reach into her head and call for her tadpole. Soon enough, their minds were connected. She felt Astarion’s reluctancy at her prodding. He was a very private person, considering he never had such a thing in his 200 years of slavery. Well, she could respect that. But it would be impossible for her to show him his face if he kept building walls around his mind.

“Astarion.” She scolded. “You need to let me in.” 

Astarion hissed. “I know.” He sounded tense. But there was eagerness there, too. He seemed to be battling between his fear and his desperate need to know how he looked like. 

Finally, vanity won, and Amara felt the walls crumbling. A gasp left her lips as she got a glimpse of the man’s mind. And, gods. It was absolutely overwhelming. The anxiety and fear he felt at everything that surrounded him paled in comparison to the crippling terror he harbored for Cazador. Amara tensed, jaw clenching as she felt herself unable to pull away from that. She wanted to keep looking. She wanted to know. 

“Don’t go there.” Astarion growled, shifting his feet in front of her. His eyes opened, and Amara saw herself in his mind's eye.

“Sorry.” She apologized, and quickly looked away. “Let me concentrate. Close your eyes.”

Astarion grumbled something unintelligible but complied, closing his eyes again. Amara sighed, and began to focus on her task. She licked her lips and imagined Astarion, standing there in his camp clothes, playing with his dagger. It was a sight she enjoyed a lot. She wondered if Astarion felt the feelings associated with it, and felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her.

“Focus, woman.” He sounded eager, ignoring her embarrassment and forgetting momentarily about his composed and charming façade. He was going to see his face. His face. She couldn’t ruin it for him with her stupid lust.

“Yes. Sorry. Let me look at you.” Amara, then, opened her eyes and pulled away from that odd embrace they shared. She watched his face as he kept his eyes closed. She focused on his eyebrows, the way his eyelashes tickled the skin of his cheeks, his straight nose, his full lips, that cute little mole under his left eye…

Ah… What a beautiful man. The sight made her smile.

“Gods…” Astarion gasped as the picture was shown directly into his brain. He kept his eyes closed as a tentative hand lifted to trail two fingertips down his cheek. “I… I’m so pale…”

Amara raised an eyebrow. Is that what he is focusing on? She refrained from making a comment, though. Astarion seemed to be fascinated with himself. 

The wandering hand that was caressing his cheek lifted up to run through the stray locks of hair that graciously fell over his forehead. A grin spread on his face, “Oh! I knew I had the best hair in camp– Shit! I have wrinkles when I smile?!”

His panicked tone made Amara laugh. She shook her head. “You look perfect, Astarion.” But he didn’t look satisfied with that. His fingers prod at the lines on the corner of his eyes.

“Come closer. Come. Amara. Closer.” She obeyed, stepping close to him, her eyes focusing on what seemed to be the problem. She’s always found his laughing wrinkles adorable. She made sure to let him know that through the tadpole connection.

“Why, aren’t you sweet, darling?” He snickered, seemingly in a better mood than before the conversation started. Amara turned bright red under her freckles. 

“S-Shut up.” It was a compliment, but it backfired into making her feel embarrassed. Her eyes now fell to his lips, and Astarion raised an eyebrow at the gesture. 

“Concentrate now, darling. I’m not done looking at myself.”

Gods, this will take all night. Amara listens, focusing on the rest of his features. The way his hair curls around his ears. That dangerous smile. Those sharp, piercing eyes of his… 

“Mmm… Good. Good.” He shook his head, satisfied with what he was seeing. Amara could feel that, once again, his playful demeanor was nothing but a façade. The tadpole connection betrayed his true feelings of wonder, fascination and emotion. She mentioned nothing, knowing that it would only make him clam up further.

“Alright, I’m done… Now, just tell me I’m beautiful, and we can call it a day…” He teased, finally opening his eyes to gaze into Amara’s, finally satisfying his curiosity.

The elf tensed under that piercing stare. She didn’t look away, her voice nothing but sincere. “You are beautiful.” 

“Observant.” He stared at her for a few seconds, as if studying her. He broke the connection suddenly, and Amara grunted, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead. What was he hiding? His face betrayed nothing.

“You see,” He started, “mirrors aren’t much use, but having someone else project your face directly into your brain is… Different. I could definitely do worse.”

Amara is still reeling from being so close to him and having such a direct connection to his feelings. The mind-shattering fear concerned her, a lot. She’d have to keep an eye on that.

“Thank you, Amara. I won’t forget this gift.”

A smile. Her heart fluttered when he pronounced her name. 

“You are welcome, Astarion.” 

[redo-rewind-if]

Hey! How would ROs who are in a relationship with MC react when they come across their versions before they were with MC? My fanfic is that MC's powers broke the time line but imagine the conversation XD

Lmao, I imagine all parties involved would be really fucking confused. Probably wondering if they had a gas leak lol.

But if they got past their initial feeling of wtf... Well, I'll put some short convos below the cut. 😉 (I used "F!" to indicate which is the future version fyi.)

--------

V: "This is... unprecedented. I would say we should avoid interaction in case the two of us meeting worsens things, but I fear it's too late for that."

F!V: "Most likely. I suppose we should consider it an opportunity. The future..." They shake their head. "I shouldn't tell you much but, (MC)... keep a close eye on them. They'll need your support more than you could ever know."

The softness in their voice must betray the depth of their feelings, given how their past iteration's eyes widen in shock.

V: "...You didn't." They say flatly, judgement heavy in their tone. "They're our employee!"

F!V: "I fear I have no idea what you're talking about." They reply, a light blush coloring their cheeks. "Moving on..."

--------

Amara: "This is so fucking weird." She says standing in what is both undeniably her living room and yet, not.

F!Amara: "I know right, I was just waking up in bed with (MC), and then, poof, here you are. So, so, weird."

Amara: Looks thoughtful for a moment, before a teasing smile brightens her face. "(MC)? Oooh? Is that where our relationship's headed? Nice. But, as much as I wanna ask more, guess we should probably focus on whatever the hell's goin' on here first, huh?"

F!Amara: "Probably. Unless..." She trails off with a conspiratorial smile.

Amara: Sighs dramatically. "Okay, fine. You've won. Go on then, tell me everything. And don't leave out a single detail."

--------

August: "Nah, no fucking way am I dealing with this right now."

F!August: "Oh come on, aren't you the least bit curious to know what happens? How things play out with—"

August: "Fine." He interrupts bluntly. "I'll bite. Not that I can see many ways you could surprise me. How'd the job with (MC) go?"

F!August: "Well, they aren't dead. That's for sure." He says with a low chuckle. "Really, I'd advise you rethink your current plans around them altogether. It won't go how you think. No, what you'll find is something much better."

August: Looking mildly perturbed. "...I really need to stop sleeping with my targets, don't I?"

[sturnprime]

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ this is honestly a oneshot i had written on wattpad a long time ago but i deleted it and then thought why not post it here because i absolutely adore this song.

i hope you enjoyed 🩵

THE SOFT HUM of the music seemingly blurs into the conversation they are indulging in, with the specific words coating the air yet falling short to their ears as a result of their attentiveness towards one another. though quiet and in some cases missed, they never fail to provide a sense of tranquillity nevertheless. the windows surrounding them are decorated in the breath of winter, mist painting across the glass as though an intricate design across a canvas. the cold air appears to settle there perfectly, cosying into the gaps and making itself at home but in a way, overpowered by the radiance supplied by the heater of the car that engulfs them. the air smells of a breeze and when they breathe in, they can almost taste the lingering frost that ever so delicately wraps itself around the houses nearby. it is, all in all, a comforting scene to be ensnared in.

the sound of a laugh vibrates through the vehicle before it settles in the atmosphere in a minimal buzz of contentment. it's bright smiles and flushed cheeks all around and it's perfect. chris reaches his hand out slowly to tuck a stray hair from amara's face and when his fingertips brush against her skin, it's as though she's on fire. it's a clear contrast with the climate and in some cases considered dangerous but she allows the heat to slip into every crevice inside of her, running the course of her body flawlessly until the redness in her cheeks is no longer a friend of the coldness but rather, a greeter to the affection.

the traffic light ahead shifts from the glowing red to a shade of amber before at last turning green and chris begins driving once more, his fingers strumming against the steering wheel to the sound of the music filling his ears. as always, his eyes subconsciously drift to his girlfriend beside him and the mere sight of her is enough to plant a smile onto his face. once she spots the smile, it's as though her lips move against her own will as she too smiles, her plump lips meandering beautifully as she stares at his side profile. he looks like home and his presence feels like familiarity so she continues to stare as they continue to their destination.

the rest of the journey is silent but it's the sort of silence that feels like a dozen words are said through eyes and expressions. the seconds pass by and turn into minutes ever so quickly and before they know it, they have arrived at the valet. frankly, the drive is short but their occasional stops and exchanges make it appear much further, not that either of them minds anyway. the simple fact that they have one another through the twists and turns of the roads, through the bumps in the gravel; it is all enough to cast aside any doubt and exhaustion from the route.

small interactions with the valet owner pass and once chris is ensured his car is in safe hands for cleaning, he laces his fingers with amara's and allows the warmth to shoot through him. through the intertwining, there simply is no else around them. he pays no mind to anything, not a single individual that passes by nor the trees that hang tall and bare, he merely keeps his undivided attention on her as she continues to ramble about something or the other. he watches in admiration as her free hand gestures around as she speaks passionately, as her nose crinkles whenever she comes across a topic she dislikes and the way her smile sprouts widely when she is happy. she truly is nothing short of mesmerising and he easily allows himself to get soaked into the whirlwind that is her existence.

"i've been seeing it everywhere and madi said it was good so that counts for everything. it's literally five minutes from here so we have to go while we wait," she tells him as she stirs them in the correct direction and chris goes because of course he's going to follow her.

they go wherever one another goes and it's always been that way, long before their hearts had even come to the realisation that they longed for each other. and so, he follows and he doesn't for a second doubt where she is leading him as he's more than positive he's in safe hands. how can he not be when her thump swipes against the back of his hand continuously, albeit a small touch but enough to expand his heart over a dozen times in size? he meets her thumb halfway and their touches linger, connecting and merging until they're sure they won't ever come apart again. soft presses of assurance and gentle swipes of love; it is all showing each other they're not alone. it's a touch of i got you and i'm going with you.

he doesn't even have to think twice about where they're going, her excitement is enough for him to agree in an instance. their fingers remain knitted together as they walk, even the cold air unable to weave its way between them. it's this miniature, intimate bubble around them that they've created and no one or nothing is perforating it.

"what exactly is it?" he asks because he can tell she's euphoric and wants to speak more about it and well, her voice is a melody he can play forever and ever.

"it's like a little café that's open pretty much all the time and there's this really cute fireplace in the seating area and apparently they have best champagne that people have tried!" she smiles at him as she speaks and he smiles back, eyes squinting in the corner at the genuineness.

and before he can ask any more questions, he notes they have already arrived. there's something about the place that neither of them can quite place their finger on but it instantly feels welcoming, as though stepping into your home after a long, tiresome day and being able to sink into the comfort of your covers. the outside is decorated in snowflakes that fit with one another with no difficulty, the intricate designs so very clear and pointing at the deck just in front of the door. the deck houses fake flowers but the scent somehow smells real, the flora wafting up their noses in efficient waves. the door to the café is also painted in snowflakes with a blue OPEN sign staring straight at them, the border glowing in the babiest of blues.

the seats are like blankets, warm and fluffy and chris pulls amara's seat so it's closer to his. she pecks his cheek lightly as a means of response and suddenly he finds himself wanting to repeat his actions again and again. instead, he connects their hands because that's always been their thing hasn't it? it's for them and no one else and they adore it. the physical touch fills them up and it always has done so. it's a small action but means to them more than they can begin to explain in words. but then again, they don't need to explain it because it in fact belongs to them and that's what makes it so heartwarming.

"you were right, this place looks fucking amazing," chris comments as his eyes wander around, trying to take in absolutely everything because he doesn't want to miss anything, not even for a second.

"i told you and we even came when basically no one else is here; that's like the best experience," she nods her head as she watches him look around.

he looks so at ease with his surroundings and it in turn makes her feel at ease. his eyes are glimmering with this sense of pure captivation and she finds herself grinning to no one in particular. the tide in his eyes seems to swirl with each glance he takes and she strangely wants to jump into the water so she can be even closer to him. her thoughts lead to her pressing a kiss to his knuckles which then makes him snap out of his trance. he smiles widely at her and god, she is so in love with him, it almost hurts.

no more words can be exchanged because a waiter approaches them to take their order and well they aren't really hungry, having just eaten a bit ago, so they order champagne, interacting a little with the man who compliments them multiple times before at last departing.

there's something so easy about existing with each other. it's like being together is as easy as breathing and at times, their oxygen is being supplied by one another. they're breathing the oxygen in and not even for a moment does the supply seem to run out. it's love that suffocates them yet instead of attempting to get out, they let it close in on them. it's hauntingly bewitching because the love is indeed a lot but at the same time, a lot feels just right when it comes to their love.

as anticipated, the champagne doesn't take long at all to arrive. the champagne glasses have a golden rim and the bubbling fills their ears, deeply reflecting the bubbling feeling in their stomachs as they look to one another. the affect they have on one another never changes, despite how many months and years pass in their relationship. it's like the spark decides to keep burning brighter, the flame decides to grow and the heat just gets hotter. every little moment feeds into the fire until the element encases their entire beings.

chris sips on it and he can't deny how amazing it tastes and when he notices amara waiting for his reaction, he just enjoys it that much more, telling her about it instantly, "you've got good taste mara."

she smirks in response as she takes a sip for herself, "of course i do, i never doubted myself for even a second."

"cough arrogant cough," he pretends to clear his throat and cough and she swats his arm playfully, shaking her head at his words.

"am i wrong though? did you doubt me christopher?" she continues, a teasing grin playing at her lips that chris honestly just wants to kiss more than ever.

"and what if i did doubt you amara?" he retorts in the same tone, making the two of them laugh briefly, the sound travelling straight to the heart and piling up alongside the other moments of laughter they have shared many times before.

"that doesn't answer my question idiot," she informs him matter-of-factly, shaking her head at him once more but never departing the satisfied expression from her face.

"of course i didn't doubt you stupid, i never do," he at last says and at that, she just can't help but connect their lips together.

it feels correct, just like everything else with them. it's a sweet kiss, not rushed or exactly passionate but filling them with the same feelings nonetheless. the butterflies still erupt inside of them and the feeling of their lips together makes their hearts soar, fast beating at the contact. they're thankful no one is around them to see but to be frank, even if there were, part of them knows they wouldn't care much anyway. it's never bothered them before because as established, when they are together, everyone else disappears. it's just them and no one else. when his hand moves to hold her face, she leans into it and their synchronised movements create a moment of serenity.

they pull away after a few moments, mirroring expressions with rosy tints ensnaring their faces and ears. chris nudges her side and she nudges him back and they settle there, drinking the champagne and talking about whatever comes to mind. the silence in the café around them should be alarming but it just makes them feel even greater because they can be themselves and they're always their greatest selves when they are together and alone.

they don't leave for a while, relishing in their solitude and the solace the café brings them for what it is but when they do eventually leave, it isn't with regrets or doubts. they do things without looking back because they tend to believe something forward could potentially be even greater. their hands are still linked, their strides match naturally and their laughter spills out of them as though it is second nature.

the car is ready for them at the valet and they linger there for a while, distracting themselves in their positions until they realise they are standing around in a place where that isn't exactly deemed normal. sheepishly making their way inside the car, a rush of adrenaline swipes through them as they drive around the city and at every red light, chris takes her in. his eyes roam her face and his ears swallow her laugh because he's unable to do anything but. she looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl he's ever seen. she's so effortless in the beauty she holds and even sitting near her makes his heart hammer in his chest. she looks like she's from the cover of a magazine, posing for a shot though truth is, she's only existing and so, he loves existing with her.

"are we going back to mine or yours?" she asks him after a while, fiddling with his hand that rests on her thigh as he drives mindlessly.

"well your bed is more comfortable," he beams at her and she laughs at him but it doesn't really matter to her, so long as they are together.

"you're just saying that because you want breakfast in bed again," she returns and he smirks at her.

"that wasn't even on my mind. i was just thinking about how it's so nice waking up next to you but if you're offering..." he trails off and she tugs on his finger roughly, making him yelp dramatically.

"okay okay, i'll make you breakfast in bed," he decides and now she's even more against the idea.

"yeah and then i'll get food poisoning and die and you'll have to live without me forever and regret the fact that you made breakfast and killed your girlfriend until the day you die," she goes on and he shakes his head at her, rubbing circles on her hand softly.

"god you have this all planned don't you?" he chuckles as they turn the street, parking in the driveway.

"mhm, it's going to make the news and everyone's going to remind you of it daily," she proceeds as she steps out the car, cuddling against his side as they walk and humming in satisfaction when he wraps his arm around her.

"well i'm gonna love you till i'm dead so that means i have to die first," he leads her inside, wrapping his arms around her waist and clinging onto her as they walk to the living room before collapsing onto the couch.

"woah so if i die first, you're going to stop loving me?" she gasps dramatically and he throws a cushion at her face with a small huff of disbelief.

and after that, it's continued playful conversations and acting as though they're offended when it's practically impossible to be as such. even with their little bickering, they still remain ever so closely together and there's just something about it that makes them feel so alive and free. this is forever, not temporary, more than a fling and they never want it to be anything but. so, as the hours of the night waste away and consume them, their contentment stays and it doesn't disappear when they drift off to sleep or when they wake up the next morning because all that's on their minds is the speciality that is the person beside them. it's something they can't comprehend in the slightest yet one look to the other ultimately screams something about you.

[shiocreator]

Showstopper and Scarlette's dynamic is very fun for me cuz if we go by the "in-game logic" of them no one would ever know Scarlette only see her as MysticColor for potentially the whole time

Showstopper has fleeting mini interactions so absorbed in his infatuation and obsession with becoming even more apart of Amaras life he forgets his only real sorta human interaction ignoring her entirely, leaving her genuinely worried when before he would just say at least hi every morning to her after they became proper friends, she doesn't say much now in fear he suddenly hates her but when she does try it's cuz she hasn't heard from him in weeks at all

but Amara who's become a regular interaction for him now when he's in his human Alec disguise, mentions something about friends potentially how she would hope hers would be okay, smthn smthn, something that Showstopper would hear and suddenly he's remembering how he was. Kinda shitty to he darling friend "Mysty" and rushes off to go check on her cuz he left his phone at home, Amara finding it endearing and becoming abit fond of him from it yes, but also it showcasing how he's changed enough to realize Scarlette could be hurt and he wouldn't know

They conversate he feels horrible now for hurting her she says it's fine she didn't think he'd wanna talk to her again etc etc

Now? Now he NEEDS to talk to her everyday again, gameplay you are forced to form a bond with this online friend, in showstoppers shoes as he has never properly gotten to know her until now

He wants to know the person behind the screen, not just the artist, not just a "Fandom friend" he distantly only interacts based on Fandom or creative stuff, he wants to know Her. And it's symbolized by a silhouette of what he's imagining her to be like and it changes everytime he sees more stuff about her

Hes seen her room before from photos so it's the backdrop

Hes just finally invested in his friends life and trying to make up for it

And he finally properly worries for her too, compared to before when she was just some "outlet" to have interaction with

And in the end the dynamic is a very sweet thing to me, I should be allowed to experiment with dynamics and ship them sometimes cuz they make me ILL!!!

Showstopper and Scarlette, if they met before, as kids,,, they coulda finally had friends.. but, at least they met at all

Scarlette helps that loser show so much growth compared to when he was just a loner chasing someone because he was desperate

She gives him someone to care for other than Amara, other than himself

She gave him his default jester form he adopted as his

And he in return became a loyal and good friend to her when it was needed

because he started to recognize her own issues and piece together how to help her

I love them to bits

[wowowwild]

I love justquill and even if I didn't I would have to for Aura and Apollo's dynamic alone. (I don't really think his and Athena's dynamic would change much tbh except he'd have to see her more often bc she has a habit of just showing up to their apartment to see Simon.)

We already know Aura likes Apollo, personally I think they met when he and Clay would hang around the space center as teens and Apollo with all his anxiety was likely very polite and awkward. She probably bullied him a little bc she likes to bully people and Apollo is very bully-able but I think he probably would have let stuff slip about his personal life and I think they just would have had a good, fun, healthy relationship bc she sees this kid who is only a little younger than her own brother and just as kind and I think they don't exactly feel like siblings to each other, but I think they take to each other and I don't really have the mental capacity right now to write it all out.

So Apollo Justice is one of the few people Aura actually likes which boggled Simon's mind bc they didn't meet back then, he was always hanging around the psych department while Apollo and Clay were dealing with space stuff mostly except when they were in the robotics department. They probably saw each other in passing but that was it.

So when Simon says he's bringing someone special to visit (he didn't hear much about what actually happened on Apollo's end with meeting up with his sister during the retrial bc he was still in prison at the time) and he brings Apollo in and she's just ecstatic. Simon is confused as hell.

He knew Apollo had met Aura which honestly made him more nervous bc she hates almost everyone she meets and he gets a little scared when Apollo says he thinks she's nice.

Then he sees them interact. She grills him a little and chastises him for not coming to see her as often. Then they start talking about all sorts of who knows what and he should know bc he's right there but they're both laughing and he's short circuiting a little.

Then she starts to roast Apollo's taste in partners and Apollo subtly defends him and she makes a gagging gesture but they laugh. Simon's world has been flipped upside down.

Now whenever Simon mildly annoys his sister she says she's replacing him with Apollo. At first whenever they go see her or she comes to them Apollo tries his best to be proper and polite, but Aura is having none of it and slings her arm around his shoulder and roasts him until he pushes her away and fights back.

Aura and Apollo have weekly calls. Sometimes Simon is there, most of the time he's not. Aura actually feels a little comfortable opening up the tiniest bit to Apollo, mostly about Metis, but a little about her brother and how everything affected her and the tiniest about the things she is doing currently. They become really good friends and whenever Simon and Apollo have a mild fight she jokes that Apollo had better take her in the divorce. Of course Apollo knows that if they ever split and it was even a little bit his own fault he'd probably be facing death by robot and he accepts this.

Aura loves to overshare certain things to see how far she can push before Apollo will hang up on her or leave the room bc Apollo is still just too polite to her and she loves seeing how far that extends. Usually he makes up an excuse, but he's never told her to shut up. Yet. He has, however, overshared his own stuff to get her to leave him alone or just annoy her bc she really does not want to know these things about her brother and she hates the mushy stuff. She will say 'You're gross, I'm hanging up.'

Could you even imagine if they took her to Khura'in? I've said it once (actually many times) and I'll say it again, Aura would lay Amara both as a power move and bc they just genuinely have a lot in common and like each other. She would bully Nahyuta with it but her and Rayfa get along very well. Datz would love Aura, he would just think she's so funny and she can appreciate a 'yes-man'. She is having the time of her life and no one will ever know peace again.

[bardic-tales]

Day 19 | Day 21

31 days of FF 7 Headcanons: Day 20: Encounter with a Summon

For Day 20 of the 31 Days of Headcanons, I’m diving deep into one of the most pivotal moments in Bianca Amara Moore’s story: her confrontation with the Summon Alexander. This clash is not just an epic battle set against the backdrop of the North Crater before Meteorfall. It’s a metaphysical war of ideologies, identity, and inevitability. Here, Bianca’s transformation reaches its peak as she sheds the remnants of her conflicted past and fully embodies her role as the Harbinger of Death and Rebirth.

Through the symbolic and violent interaction with Alexander, Bianca’s evolution from reluctant hybrid to monstrous divinity is laid bare. This encounter not only defines her arc but serves as a thematic cornerstone for her role in the greater cosmology of the Final Fantasy 7 arc of Fantasy Worlds Collide.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Body horror, cosmic horror, death, existential dread, religious themes, transformation, trauma, violence

Bianca Moore’s final confrontation with the Summon Alexander at the North Crater is not merely a battle of strength, but a symbolic collision of opposing ideologies. It was the clash of divine order versus chaotic rebirth. Her transformation and actions in this moment encapsulate the culmination of her character arc: from conflicted hybrid to a fully realized cosmic entity of destruction and renewal.

Bianca begins her narrative as a complex figure: a celestial-demonic hybrid, the product of Shinra’s experimentation and Jenova’s corruption, with remnants of divine lineage through her parents: an angelic being who fell from grace and an archangel who sacrificed everything for Bianca’s safety. She is characterized by inner conflict in her earlier arc, torn between lingering humanity and her ever-looming monstrous nature, as well as Jenova and Sephiroth’s influence twisting her memories in dream states. However, in the later half of her arc, this tension is resolved not through redemption but through full acceptance of her role in Sephiroth's apocalyptic vision.

The appearance of Alexander, the Summon representing divine judgment and order, serves as a narrative foil to Bianca. His summoning is not just a tactical maneuver, but a metaphysical attempt to reject what Bianca has become. The clash between them is symbolic in nature. I specifically chose Alexander for this purpose. Alexander’s radiant presence attempts to assert cosmic balance and obliterate Bianca’s aberrant existence. In contrast, Bianca’s response to Alexander is symtomatic of her evolution. Rather than flee or falter, she sheds her humanoid form and embraces her true nature: a nightmarish cosmic being veiled in angelic semblance, embodying both corrupted divinity and eldritch power.

This transformation is a definitive rejection of binary identity. Bianca is no longer torn between her humanity and monstrosity, nor between light and darkness, as she had shed that three and half years ago. She becomes a singular force, described as a living Summon: a manifestation of destruction born of divine wrath and Jenova’s influence, as purple miasma wafts off of her. In this, she mirrors Sephiroth’s own transcendence, aligning with him not just in loyalty but in monstrosity and purpose. Bianca’s true form is akin to the importance of his Safer-Sephiroth form: the proof of ascendancy.

Her refusal to be destroyed by Alexander, even as divine magic attempts to erase her, is not simply a testament to her physical resilience but a statement about her metaphysical inevitability. She regenerates, not to preserve life, but to continue embodying entropy. Her laughter during the confrontation signifies not triumph, but inevitability: an awareness that she has moved beyond salvation or morality. Even when her humanoid body is destroyed, she just floats away as ash and reforms like a butterfly in a chrysalis. She is no longer a victim of her circumstances or a weapon forged by others. She is now an autonomous avatar of the end and a new beginning. She is the consort of the One-Winged Angel.

The destruction of Alexander by Bianca is particularly significant. Alexander, a Summon traditionally associated with purity, order, and the wrath, is unmade by a being who is everything he was meant to suppress. This moment confirms the futility of resisting Bianca with conventional forces of everything that is good and pure. It also marks the death of any illusion that she might still seek redemption. The light within her is not reclaimed. It is extinguished.

Ultimately, Bianca’s true identity crystallizes through this confrontation. She is no longer merely an experiment or a corrupted angelic being. Bianca has stopped running from the prophecy that defined most of her life. She was no longer content with aiding Sephiroth in his ascension. She would rewrite Creation to spare them from anymore suffering.

She is the Harbinger: the embodiment of a new cycle born from the ashes of the old. Her existence becomes synonymous with destruction, not as an end in itself, but as a necessary prelude to rebirth. In fully embracing her monstrous divinity, Bianca’s arc becomes a fixed point in the Final Fantasy 7 portion of Fantasy Worlds Collide: not a tragic heroine but a divine aberration who aids in the unraveling of the world in order to rebuild something better.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy

[daisypreaker]

pls dont laugh at me but...aegon and amara in a love island au but uk love island bc it was funnier

Why would I laugh? You're right. Our Love Island IS funnier. There's nothing like an Essex girl snapping gum as she points finger guns at a cheating man she met two hours ago and yells about how her heart is irretrievably broken.

That being said...of all the AUs anyone's ever given me, this might just be the most fitting for Aegon I've ever read. He literally belongs there. He's short, he's pretty, he's loud, and he jokes about his cock like he's being paid for it. And now I am laughing. Anon, you're a fucking genius. Oh god, he would make a frat bro group immediately once he got there.

Amara would NOT choose him btw. She would probably go for a guy who's twice his height and has a deep, sexy South London twang, whereas Aegon's a fully gruff Northern drawl. I see her being the villa darling tbh, she's sweet, she doesn't try to take anyone's man, and she's usually the first one asking other people how they're doing and sorta kinda becomes the villa therapist.

Aegon would be trying his HARDEST to win her, but it's like watching that gif of the big guy beating on oblivious Spongebob. Amara is skipping around all happy and How are you, Egg-on Toast? Are you well? and his throat gets all closed up and he's like trying to come up with a flirty line which usually happens easily but not with her. And camera catches it EVERY TIME. It becomes a running gag for the audience. When it comes time for them to vote who goes on a date, the votes pour in for Aegon to go on a date with Amara, and she's a little 'eh' but he's CHUFFED. Then the entire country basically watches him bomb the date because he can't get a proper word out, and when being genuine doesn't work, he goes back to fuckboy Aegon and completely turns her off.

They don't really interact after that, but then Casa Amor happens, and Amara's so happy to get her man back but he walks in with a different girl entirely. And it's SSSSOOOOOOOO. Everyone thought they were gonna win the show but apparently not. And she's just sitting there smiling, but her ears are red, and her eyes are a little glossy and she keeps saying she's fine, she's fine, and then doesn't even yell at the guy for humiliating her. She doesn't have any other connections in the villa either, so on the next fire pit gathering, she's probably going to be kicked out as the only one without a partner.

BUT -

Aegon happily ditches his girl on the next vote and says he wants to keep Amara in the villa instead. AHKFJDHKFJHKJFHKDJFHJKHFG. You can never keep a boyfailure down.

p.s. Did i just accidentally reveal I've watched too much Love Island in my time?

[poisamm]

S M O K E A N D S U G A R

a Coyote Ugly x College AU

Part 2

content warning: none really, building up more of their interactions and having interest in one another kept to themselves, miguel being chivalrous, frat guy stereotype a bit. (the good stuff is to come I promise i’m sick rn😔)

word count: 3,253

Part 1 / Part 3 🍒⋆｡°✩🔬⋆｡°✩ Masterlist

As the days roll on, the unspoken rhythm between Amara and Miguel starts to shift—subtle at first, but there. A glance held a second longer, a conversation stretching past the point where most classmates would naturally let it die. The fall semester is settling into its usual pace, but something is gaining momentum.

In Media Literacy, Amara is as sharp as ever—always raising her hand when the professor opens the floor for discussion. It’s her bread and butter, and Miguel can tell. She doesn’t just answer questions—she dissects them, pulling threads from prior knowledge and making sense of the topics or bringing up related topics. It’s not pretentious, though. It’s clear. She connects ideas in a way that makes people nod along, even if they didn’t get it before. She doesn’t want to feel like she’s hogging the conversation and lets others speak but she’ll speak if she wants to contribute.

And Miguel notices everything else too—the way she always checks her nails when she’s listening, flicking her thumb against the acrylic tips like she’s counting her thoughts. The way her fingers always find a lock of her dark red-and-blonde-streaked amongst brunette hair to twirl absentmindedly, except for the day she borrows Jen’s fidget toy before class starts since the girls chatted about it—a small, clackety chain of interlocking rings.

Amara twists the rings in her palm, and Miguel watches—because she’s not twirling her hair or tapping her nails for once and was interested in the conversation next to him. She’s completely focused on the toy, rolling it between her fingers like it’s second nature.

And then—he sees it. The exact moment the realization hits her.

Her hand freezes mid-fidget, and her eyes widen—holy shit.

Miguel bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

“You good?” he murmurs.

Amara blinks twice, then looks at him with a mix of horror and revelation. “I think I have undiagnosed ADHD or something,” she whispers, deadpan.

Miguel smirks. “Just figuring that out now?”

“Apparently.” She clicks the toy twice for emphasis.

Their professor starts the lecture, and Amara keeps the toy in her hand the entire time, occasionally trading glances with Miguel when someone says something ridiculous—like when a guy at the back of the room suggests influencers are “the new philosophers of our generation.”

Amara’s face visibly reacts—eyes wide, lips parted, a slight tilt of her head—and Miguel knows what she’s thinking before she even says it.

“Yeah,” she mutters under her breath, “Aristotle could never.”

The class continues with the professor talking about how we get our news from, everyone doing a survey, then going over the history and evolution of journalism in America. When yellow journalism is brought Amara perks up and raises her hand.

“Yellow journalism essentially was when American newspapers used crazy headlines and sensationalized exaggerations for increased sales. Like old tabloids, and these two publishers—I don’t remember their names BUT they had a big competition for circulation in New York City newspapers. And they’re technically blamed for starting the Spanish American War after one of them was super into the Cuban rebellion so with everything, they falsely blamed the Spanish for an explosion and sinking of the USS Maine in Cuba, so the tension already existing and the yellow journalism caused the war.” She rambled on.

“Yes exactly, thank you for explaining better than me,” the professor laughed and continued on.

“You study that recently?” Miguel asked quietly, more curious than anything, nearly gobsmacked she just rattled that off.

Amara shook her head. “Nah. Middle school.”

He blinked. “Seriously?”

She just shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It just stuck.”

After class one day, they linger—Amara packing up her laptop at her usual, leisurely pace, Miguel taking a little longer than necessary to gather his things. Jen waves a quick goodbye with a cheery, “Bye, mama,” and Amara gives a soft, “Later.”

When the classroom clears out, Amara leans a hip against her desk and looks at Miguel. “Hey, so—random, but can I interview you for this social media comm class I’m taking?”

Miguel blinks. “Interview me?”

“Yeah,” Amara sighs, clearly exasperated at the thought. “It’s for this stupid homework assignment—my professor’s a nut. Like, she’s trying so hard to be Ms. Frizzle but just ends up being… aggressively annoying? She wears these wild prints and talks about manifesting your brand’s ‘authentic self’—like, okay, girl. Anyway—it’s a mess, but I need to interview someone with an online presence, you have social media right.”

Miguel chuckles. “Yeah. I have like Instagram and other stuff.”

“Good enough for me,” Amara says. “Can we set it up sometime before next week? I promise it won’t be a whole thing—I’ll just ask like maybe 7 questions about your usage of social media and shit.”

“Sure,” Miguel says, trying to sound casual even though his stomach twists a little at the idea of her thinking about him outside of class. “We can figure out a time.”

Amara pulls out her phone, clearly a black otter box case with a few stickers inside of the poxy glass on the back, he barely got a glimpse of her wallpaper. “Cool—what’s your number?”

And there it is. His heart does a weird little lurch as he recites it, watching as Amara quickly adds him to her contacts, her thumb flying across the screen, acrylic nail clacking against the screen.

“Got it,” she says, then smiled. “I’ll text you later,”

Miguel gave a small nod. “Alright.”

From that point on, something shifts.

On campus, they start crossing paths more often—not just in class, but in the student union, at the library, or near the student leadership section of the union is, where The Beacon’s office is. Always a wave and hello. Other times, she’s chatting with a club member or someone from her magazine team.

One afternoon, Amara spots Miguel near the student center and waves him down. “Hey—you ever been to a comm club meeting?”

Miguel raises a brow. “Can’t say I have.”

“Wanna change that?” Amara tilts her head, her chunky red-and-blonde highlights catching the light. “We meet every other Thursday, so next week at 6pm. It’s not just for comm majors—we wanna expand to all majors. But there’s events, guest speakers, workshops, all that. Sometimes we have snacks. Could be fun.”

Miguel smirks. “Are you recruiting me?”

“Consider it a soft pitch,” Amara says, crossing her arms with a playful glint in her eye, her entrepreneurship minor showing off. “No pressure, you’re not committed to it if you show up once.”

“No strings attached?”

“None,”

“I’ll think about it,”

“Good enough for me,” she said.

Miguel’s phone buzzed.

He’d just finished a set at the campus gym—sweat cooling against the back of his dark gray tank—when he pulled his phone from his bag and saw a text flash across the screen.

Unknown: Hey! This is Amara, are you free to meet this week for that interview?

He wiped his face with a towel, lips twitching at the directness. No small talk—just the point, and he quickly added her to his contacts.

Miguel: Yeah—when works for you?

It took a minute before her typing bubble appeared.

Amara: Got time Wednesday around noon?

Amara: We could grab lunch too if you’re eating around then.

Lunch.

Miguel stared at the screen longer than necessary—long enough that his brain tried to overthink it.

It’s just an interview. For her class. She said lunch like it’s casual. It is casual.

But still.

Miguel: Yeah, sounds good. Where you wanna meet?

The reply came fast this time.

Amara: Student center food court? We could grab food then find a spot to sit.

Miguel: See you then.

He locked his phone, exhaling through his nose. There was no reason for his pulse to be this loud in his ears.

It wasn’t like she asked him out—obviously.

But for some reason, Miguel found himself choosing his outfit a little more carefully.

The weather was starting to shift—mid-September in New York—cool enough for long sleeves but still clinging to that last stretch of summer warmth. He ended up throwing on a black henley—sleeves pushed up to his elbows—and a pair of dark jeans, cuffed at the ankles above his sneakers. It wasn’t anything special, but it fit well—and the way the fabric clung to his forearms didn’t hurt either.

When he got to the student center food court, Amara was already there—typing something on her phone, standing with her computer bag on her shoulder.

Miguel noticed her outfit immediately.

A fitted black top—cropped just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistband of a flowy, deep-red maxi skirt. It was soft and light, brushing against her legs when she shifted her legs.

She had her usual rings on and stacked necklaces around her neck. Her nose ring caught the light when she tucked a piece of dark red hair behind her ear, and Miguel had to consciously not stare at her side profile.

She looked… nice. Nicer than usual.

Not like dressed to the nines—but there was definitely effort there.

But maybe she cared how she looked today. Like maybe she cared how he saw her.

His stomach tightened.

“Hey,” Amara said, looking up from her screen and offering a small smile. “Right on time.”

Miguel huffed a quiet laugh, standing with her. “Didn’t want to piss off my interviewer.”

Amara smirked, putting her phone in a pocket of her bag. “Yeah—you’d get terrible press.”

Their usual ease was still there, but something about today felt… different. A little more aware.

“You eat yet?” Miguel asked, nodding toward the food vendors behind them.

“Not yet—figured we could grab something before the interrogation.”

He chuckled. “Good call.”

They ended up at one of the more reliable spots—a sandwich and salad place with fewer lines than the fast-food joints. Amara ordered a turkey avocado sandwich with a soda, while Miguel went with a grilled chicken wrap and a protein smoothie.

Once they found a table that was open that had comfortable seating and a table and outlets, they sat down. They put their food on the table and she took out her laptop to open Microsoft Word and put her phone on the table.

“You cool if I record this?” she asked. “Makes it easier when I go back through everything.”

Miguel nodded. “Yeah—go for it.”

She hit record on her phone.

“Okay,” Amara said, shifting in her seat, the skirt shifting softly with her. “So—first question. What social media platforms do you use most often, and why?”

Miguel leaned back slightly, thinking. “Instagram—mostly. It’s easy. I use it for posting gym stuff, keeping up with friends and family. Sometimes for recipes.”

“Recipes?” Amara asked, eyebrow arching.

Miguel smirked. “What—surprised I can cook?”

Amara’s lips twitched. “A little.”

He chuckled. “Yeah—well, gotta eat more than protein bars.”

Amara nodded, typing quickly on her laptop.

Miguel watched the way her fingers moved—how her nails clicked against the keys with precision.

“Next question,” she said, biting back a smile. “Can you describe a typical day of social media use for you?”

Miguel shrugged. “It’s not that exciting. Usually, I scroll through Instagram in the morning—check messages, see if anyone posted anything interesting. YouTube’s more for background noise—like when I’m studying. Sometimes TikTok—if I wanna kill time and doom scroll.”

Amara’s gaze flicked up from her laptop. “You’re a TikTok guy?”

“Not really—but it’s a good distraction.”

“Dangerous distraction,” Amara muttered, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “The algorithm’s a menace.”

Miguel laughed softly. “Yeah—been down too many rabbit holes.”

Amara smiled—soft, but genuine.

The rest of the questions flowed easily—what Miguel thought about influencers, how he handled his online presence, and if he ever felt pressure to curate a certain image.

He answered honestly—he didn’t care much about “curating” anything. He used social media for what it was—connection, convenience, distraction. No hidden angles.

When they wrapped up, Amara stopped the recording and stretched her arms above her head—her top riding up just a little more.

Miguel’s gaze darted back to his smoothie.

“Thanks for doing this,” Amara said, clicking through her notes. “This professor is… unhinged—so at least now I have something solid to work with.”

Miguel smirked. “Why do you hate her?”

“Oh,” Amara groaned. “She’s got this voice that’s chipmunk adjacent, she tries to dissect whatever you say as if there’s some deeper philosophical reason for what you meant, she has the corniest things about herself like she loves to watch flowing water.”

Miguel chuckled. “And that’s why you hate her?”

“That’s the beginning,” Amara said, leaning forward slightly. “She is so nit picky about writing, if it’s not enough detail it’s bad but if it’s written well—for a grade duh—and detailed she’s convinced you cheated somehow. She accused me once and I stopped her right there.”

Miguel blinked. “So there’s no winning with her?”

Amara sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “Yup.”

Miguel arched a brow. “That….sucks. Genuinely. Does everyone else dislike her?”

“Pfft yeah, everyone hates her and her class. It’s designed so poorly and disorganized, I’ve learned nothing about social media from it.”

“Yikes. Noted to not take that as an elective next semester” Miguel sipped his drink.

Amara’s gaze flicked over him—henley sleeves pushed up, forearms resting on the table.

“Yeah, don’t. Unless you want to be a masochist for 15 weeks,” she teased softly.

Miguel chuckled.

Instead of pulling away, he leaned in—just enough to match the energy.

“Guess you’re the masochist then,” he murmured.

Amara blinked—just a flicker of surprise—before a smile tugged at her lips.

“Am not, I didn’t know I was gonna have a nut job as a professor,” she rebuked.

Miguel chuckled. “I’m messing with you. You have my greatest sympathy for having to deal with that ‘nut job’.”

The conversation shifted after that—less about the assignment and more… them.

Miguel learned Amara wasn’t just sharp—she was funny. Her sarcasm wasn’t mean—it was quick, clever, like she was constantly balancing between playfulness and honesty.

And Amara, though she wouldn’t admit it, noticed Miguel’s subtle charm—the way his lips quirked at the corners when he smiled, how his voice got a little lower when he teased her.

When lunch was over, Amara started gathering her things—her computer bag noticeably heavy as she slung it over her shoulder.

Miguel frowned. “That looks… painful.”

Amara laughed softly. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Here—let me carry it.”

Amara blinked. “Oh—Miguel, you don’t—”

“I insist,” Miguel said, slinging the bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

Amara’s heart did a small, stupid flip.

“…Thanks,” she murmured.

Miguel smiled. “Where to?”

“Business building,” Amara said.

“Let’s go,” Miguel replied, walking beside her—one hand casually adjusting the strap of her bag.

As they crossed the quad, Amara stole a glance at him—broad-shouldered, relaxed, but quietly attentive.

It was… nice.

The sun had settled into that comfortable mid-September glow — warm, but with a crispness that hinted at fall creeping in. The sidewalks bustled with students darting between classes, coffee cups in hand, and the faint thrum of music spilling from open dorm windows.

He carried her bag on one shoulder, his hand adjusting the strap so it wouldn’t dig into her shoulder later.

They rounded a corner near the main quad, where a frat table was set up — a big, bold sign reading Rush Alpha Sigma Chi in obnoxious red letters. A handful of guys in polos and backward caps were loudly trying to recruit passersby. The moment they spotted Miguel — tall, broad, and built like a Greek statue — their energy shifted.

“Yo, bro! You ever think about going Greek?” one guy called, clearly eyeing Miguel like he was a prize recruit.

Miguel barely spared them a glance. “Hard pass.”

Amara bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, but then another guy — shorter, with an overeager grin — noticed her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, leaning a little too far over the table. “You’d look great at our parties. Ever been to one?”

Amara’s smile vanished. The shift was subtle — her posture stiffened, and a faintly bored expression slid across her face, the kind of look that said try harder. “Nope,” she said flatly, already walking past.

Miguel’s jaw ticked. He didn’t say anything — didn’t have to — but his pace slowed half a step, just enough to position himself subtly between Amara and the frat guy until they were out of earshot.

“Persistent,” Miguel muttered under his breath.

Amara rolled her eyes. “They think any girl walking by is automatically interested.”

“They clearly don’t know how to read a person,” he added, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Their conversation flowed easily again as they reached the entrance to the business building. The lobby was sleek, modern — and thankfully quiet — as they made their way to the elevators. A few students shuffled past, heads down in their phones, but it wasn’t chaotic.

Miguel pressed the elevator button. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside.

It was just them.

The doors shut with a soft ding, and for those few seconds, the world outside seemed to vanish.

Amara was talking — something about the last assignment for her class — but Miguel wasn’t entirely listening. Not in a rude way — but more in the way someone watches a sunset, too focused on the view to absorb the words.

Her dyed dark red-blonde highlights amongst her dark hair framed her face, and when she spoke, she had this habit of half-gesturing with her hand, like every word carried weight. She was standing close — not too close — but enough that he caught the faint scent of her perfume.

And Miguel… just looked at her.

His gaze dipped — from the gentle curve of her jaw to the way her necklaces rested against the neckline of her top.

And for a split second — just a flicker of a moment — Miguel thought about what it would be like to tilt her chin up. Just enough to have her look at him the way he was looking at her.

If the circumstances were different, he would.

But the ding broke the quiet, and Amara stepped out, oblivious. Miguel swallowed the thought and followed.

“So, this is me,” Amara said, nodding toward her classroom door. The hall was still empty — a rare lull between classes.

Miguel adjusted the strap of her bag on his shoulder once more before handing it back to her. His fingers brushed hers in the exchange. “Good luck in there,” he said softly, his voice a little rougher than before. “Try not to let the male dominated room bother you.”

Amara chuckled, the corners of her dimples peeking out. “I’ll do my best.”

He lingered a beat longer than necessary, then took a small step back. “See you in class?”

“Yeah,” Amara said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “See you.”

Miguel turned, heading down the hall toward the science building.

He felt half stupid — because it was just a walk, just a bag, just an elevator ride. But there was something about the way Amara had smiled at him, the way her voice had softened when she said see you.

And for the first time in a long while… it felt like maybe, just maybe, he was getting somewhere.

dividers by @enchanthings and @horangipilled

[hawkland]

SciFi Valley Con, what a weekend!

I need to share this somewhere because it was all so amazing, I'm still a bit dazed .

First, behold this set up, because holy shit was it a lot of work!

So, on to the details. Back in Charlotte, I'd promised both DJ and Ruth tote bags with my Garth & Rowena art, respectively (they'd seen other people carrying them around but I'd sold out before they stopped by looking for one.) Didn't know if they'd actually remember BUT Friday at SFVC was fairly slow so I went to get my autographs and hunt them down. First I went up to DJ who, as soon as he saw the tote bag, came rushing out from behind his table to give me a big hug. "I don't care if it's egotistical I'm carrying this around all weekend!" All Friday he had it out on his table, too, so that it ended up in one of the con's promo videos on Instagram.

Next up was Rick...who was just a doll, taking his time with each and every person! I was just going to get an autograph for myself but as soon as I showed him the painting he was just literally speechless for a while, came around to give me a hug, asked his handler to take that picture he posted on Instagram, I gave him a print and we chatted a bit but I felt bad taking up too much time. (I did go back on Sunday to get an autograph for Mr. Hawkland's office and totally cracked him up with my/our usual request for something mentioning feet, since the hubster is a podiatrist.)

Then I saw Ruth briefly had no line so I dashed over and handed her her bag and she was immediately all "Oh! Oh! Emily, come over here!" (Emily Swallow was signing the next station over.) "This is the artist who has that lovely painting of the two of us I was showing you!"

I'm now like....wait a minute...they're showing each other MY ART?!?!?! I knew Ruth liked the piece — it was the one I did for the femmeslash bang claimed by @father-salmon — Emily immediately slips out from her table where she had a long line and was like, "Hi I'm Emily" to shake my hand and I'm like OMFG I KNOW YOU ARE and they were just both being so sweet I could've cried. Ruth was asking if it would be ok if they made copies of that piece available for signing (like, absolutely?!?! I'M the one skirting the edge selling these prints...) Anyway, Ruth let me pick out a picture to get signed for free, I ran back to my table to get the new Amara piece I'd done signed by Emily and to print her prints of each. And she wouldn't even let me pay for getting it autographed either, just was being so kind, I mentioned how Season 11 is my favorite and how much I've come to enjoy Amara every time I rewatch and then she wouldn't let me leave without a hug. *sob* Saturday morning she even stopped by the table to look at more of my stuff up close and tell me how Ruth was carrying her bag around everywhere.

Oh and Sunday morning before we opened for the day, I'd just set up and stepped out to get something to drink, come back in and Mark Sheppard is at my table by my Crowley prints and postcards talking with his handler. He was like "Yeah I've signed a lot of these" and was surprised the big banner print hadn't sold yet (so was I). He actually remembered signing the original paintings back in Pittsburg 2-3 years ago, I do not know how he remembers these things.

Anyway. Sales were kind of meh since the crowd was only very partially an SPN crowd BUT I cannot remember having such wonderful interactions with guests/actors ever like this. It's a little freaky because it hit that the Creation con regulars (DJ, Ruth, Mark) definitely know & remember me. And I guess that's a good thing? I suppose we'll see how it all unfolds next year as this was my last con for 2024 (next year I'm planning on doing SPN Boston, New Jersey, Novi, Philly and maybe Chicago too.)

[rose-of-oz]

begging you to tell me about your btr oc ideas!! who are their ships(if they have them), why are they at palm woods, what are their dynamics w the boys??

Of course, thank you so much for this!! I’ll just give you a basic rundown of the three I’ve got so far:

Ezra Caulder, he/him, Carlos ship, Justice Smith FC. Lives at the Palm Woods with his parents and eleven-year-old sister, Destiny, who’s a child actress mainly seen in commercials (not in an exploitive way, though, she really loves acting and their parents are very good and would let her stop whenever she wanted to). Incredibly shy and awkward and doesn’t really have many friends, and prefers more academic pursuits rather than any attempt to get into the arts, so he doesn’t really interact with the boys or anyone at the Palm Woods at first until he winds up getting roped into one of their schemes. Kind of has an insta-crush on Carlos, but doesn’t ever think it could be reciprocated until he literally becomes the other boy’s bi awakening. Out of the rest of the boys, he winds up becoming closest to Logan, since they’re both more academically-minded, and also develops an odd opposites-attract friendship with Katie.

Nicki Wainwright, she/her, James ship, Hunter Schafer FC. An aspiring actress who’s lived in the Palm Woods with her single dad for over a year before the show starts, but often has a hard time getting rolls once the casting directors know she’s trans. Has also been burned from a lot of guys she’s been interested in because of this fact, so she’s developed a strong disdain for guys with big egos. As a result, she and James do not get along from the moment Big Time Rush arrives in LA, but she still winds up interacting with the guys a lot since she’s friends with Camille, and they wind up clashing and bickering a lot, although of course eventually they become friends and, finally, start dating. Nicki is confident but not arrogant, bold and not afraid to speak her mind, very talented and she knows it, but also has a layer on insecurity underneath due to what she’s been through that’s hard to break through to. Becomes really good friends with all of the guys as well as Camille and Jo, but she’s ultimately closest to Carlos because they egg each other’s chaos on.

Amara Castro, she/her, Kendall ship, Isabela Merced FC. As an aspiring writer, Amara is kind of a rarity among the Palm Woods crowd of actors and singers. She’s been working on a fantasy-slash-mystery novel since she was thirteen but hasn’t ever had anything published, so the only way she’s able to stay at the Palm Woods is because her older brother and sibling are minor celebrity actors. Initially meets the band after she loses a printed chapter of her manuscript and they find it and return it to her, and though she prefers to stay isolated they wind up working their ways into her heart. She’s a lot like Pippa from A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, very intense and driven and focused, but she also has an unexpected sense of humour and a very kind heart. Initially bonds with Kendall over having not-so-good parent relationships (Kendall with his dad and Amara with both of hers) and wanting to take care of the people they care about, and then eventually they become a super cute couple. Winds up becoming the closest to James out of the rest of the boys, which no one expects but everyone agrees makes a weird kind of sense, and also winds up basically adopted by Mrs. Knight and a big sister figure to Katie.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!! I do intend to create a Logan ship and potentially one or two more OCs besides, but for right now have these babies. I am planning on making proper intro posts for them, but in the meantime anyone can feel free to send any asks they want for them!! Thanks again for asking!! <3

Tagging the BTR moots: @partiallypearl, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @manyfandomocs.

[oliolioxenfreewrites]

Writer Questionnaire ❦

Taking a break from writing to catch up on my tags writing 2 books at once is not for the weak 😭 so thank you @drchenquill for the tag as always!

- how long have you had your writing tumblr/writerblr? a fast and loose estimate is fine!

At least since April or early May!

- what lead you to create it?

I wanted to connect with other writers and creatives to make new friends!

- what's your favorite thing about the writer community?

My favorite part is the absolute powerhouse of creativity and innovation. You all have this incredible knack for coming up with unique ideas that never fail to inspire me. Plus, they're hilarious! Their sense of humor adds a delightful twist to everything we do, making even the wildest ideas feel approachable and fun. Honestly, being around such talent and laughter is a constant source of my motivation and joy!

- what’s one thing you'd like in mutual to know about you?

No notification I receive on this app goes unnoticed. I'll be at work, smiling because someone found my writing and enjoyed it! It means so much to me and only makes me want to write even more!

- is there anything you'd like to see more of on your dash?

I would love more collaboration and interaction in my messages. I am open to discussing and exchanging ideas with another writer. I’m particularly interested in co-creating a planetary system and bouncing creative ideas back and forth.

- which wips or writing projects are you noodling about lately

I'm currently working on fleshing out a novel titled Journals from The Whitmore Estate, which is a modern/historical fiction story. The novel explores the slave and civil war era, and also delves into our near future. It centers around the actions of a power-hungry ancestor who sought to shift power dynamics, and the resulting centuries of generational backlash.

- how long have you been working on them?

Its been about a few months, I had to take a break to give myself new perspectives and coming to a decision on who the main character was!

- do you remember what inspired them/what got you started

I was looking at writing prompts and came across one that said something along the lines of “Your character inherits a manor from a distant relative. Upon moving in, they discover what lies within its walls, answering why your family has been plagued by bad luck for as long as anyone can remember.”

- how much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Wayyy too much! Now rhat I've found the main character, I can't put it down!

- when someone ask the dreaded "what do you write about?" question what do you usually say?

“I write whatever comes to mind!” Or “You can read my writings to find out.” 😗

- name any characters you created. Side characters, protagonist, antagonist, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

Kirjani is my favorite oc to date! Her chosen family: Rick, Raelin, and Lena. The three sisters from the Isles of Aurorith! Imani, Jade and Jasmine, the first ocs I ever created, they deserve their story to be told. (I’m working on it!!) My scrapped character folder is at about 60 something, but the one I just couldn't figure out completely was their grandmother Queen Amara, those who've followed me for a while probably remember her! She was just a bit too sinister and I tried to work around certain motivations and rationality kept getting in the way 🤣 I might use her for another story of mine I've been thinking about

- who’s the most unhinged?

I think it would be between Amara or Kirjani for sure. One of them is justifiably so, the other… not so much LOL

- who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Jules a gay sophmore in high school who is grieving the sudden loss of his mother (I haven't introduced him yet!) He's the first character I've ever based on myself or someone like me rather.

- do you ever cringe at them?

Oh yeah, that’s when I'm writing his best romantic scenes. Love, especially teen romance is supposed to be cringy and awkward at times. That's what makes it so!

- how much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? to what degree? are some less cooperative than others?

They literally form their own lives that I just go with, its their world I’m just living in and writing it! I'm considerably outnumbered lmao

- do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

More than words can express, that's why I love sharing my characters and their personalities. I want to open discussions on humanity and how the human condition can create dynamically and perplexing people!

- what makes you want to follow another writeblr account? do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

I don't really have enough mutuals or followers, so I follow people based on their creativity and if they're on Writeblr. I don't have much discernment at the moment :)

- what makes you decide against following?

Just depends. I guess I haven't found a page I've ever said, “Oh no, can't follow that,” too.

- do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Not really, and if I follow you and you don't follow me back, I will give you 24 hours before I unfollow. We're all creatives here; no one is more creative than the next person, in my opinion.

This was so much fun to answer, I have so many more tags to do, but I’m not gonna stress ah finishing them all today 🥲 I have some short stories I wanna post as well from the weekend.

I tag @leahpardo-pa-potato, @slenders1ckn3ss, and @coffeewritesfiction. + open tag to any writer interested!