#oc: Jordan Roberts

[ginger-grimm]

OC HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2024

Day 24: What's Your Favorite Scary Movie?

My Glee OCs In Various Horror Movies

Celeste Morris in Pearl

Sabine Mitchell in The Blair Witch Project

Wyatt Weaver in The Evil Dead

Harriet Ross in Carrie

Ryan Lewis in Midsommar

Jordan Roberts in Candyman

Charlie Novak in The Silence of the Lambs

Stevie Howard in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

Flora Redding in Creep

Angus Lee in The Hitcher

x

TAGLIST: @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @stelstellakidd @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

[luucypevensie]

For @ginger-grimm as part of her Birthday Exchange. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA! I had so much fun making this playlist for my fave boy, and I hope you have an excellent day filled with awesomeness!

[enchanted--roses]

Anna Valentine exchange : @ginger-grimm p. 1/2

Jordan Roberts & Mercedes Jones

I wanted to do something a little bit different than usual.

Hope you like it

Forever Tag: 💠@fiercefray​ 💠 @foxesandmagic 💠 @valdrinors​ 💠@ochub​ 💠@ocappreciationtag​   💠 @fanficanatic-tw​ 💠@robertdowneyhiddlesbatch   💠@chickensarentcheap ​ (wanna be on any of my taglist? ask me

[msanonships]

childhood crush trope featuring: westallen, jordayla and sethmer

[x-ceirios-x]

alea iacta est

alea iacta est; the die is cast.

cw: canon typical violence, fight scene

Andy tumbled through the Portal with the rest of the New York Institute, looking over the army of red-robed demonic Shadowhunters. She couldn’t bite back the snicker that arose from her, mirroring Simon’s, when she realized they could no longer use her seraph blades. She muttered the name of hers and gripped it tightly in her hand, prepared for the oncoming onslaught. She was dressed head to toe in gear and completely decked out in weapons—daggers, seraph blades, her collapsible bo staff all decorated her belt and various sheathes pulled tight around her legs and arms. And on her hip, calling for her to use it, was her latest refurbished gadget: James Herondale’s revolver. 

She set out with the group, running ahead with Aline and Helen. Despite the stakes, she had to enjoy the adrenaline of battle. She’d never felt more alive than fighting in the Mortal War alongside Maia, who was there tonight. She tried to keep an eye out for her but the sea of werewolves and Ahadowhunters, Endarkened and seraphic, made that hard. A knife sliced past her arm, pausing her in her tracks, and she whipped around, blade in hand. She recognized the man in red robes, vaguely, maybe from a picture. Maybe he was another friend of Valentine’s she’d seen in old photos her mother had hidden away in the attic. He smiled cruelly, before lunging for her, his blade narrowly missing her throat. She spun and jumped, wrapping her legs around the man’s neck. She landed feet first, cutting off his breath with her legs. Without another thought, she grabbed his knife and drove it through his heart. Blood spattered on her hand and arm. There was no time for pity—Sebastian was going to die and she had to ensure that happened.

From a few feet away, she could see Magnus and Rowan, leading Simon through the brunt of the attack. At all costs, they needed to get to Sebastian at the back of this all. Some leader, she thought, before making for high ground. She saw a familiar face, Alec, and ran to follow him to high ground. 

Her footsteps alerted him and he spun on her, an arrow poised to strike in his hand. She put her hands up quickly. “Easy, tiger,” she said with a smile. 

Alec rolled his eyes and shot the arrow, flying past her head to strike an Endarkened Shadowhunter in the chest. He’d had a knife raised, prepared to strike her from behind, but crashed to the ground instantly. 

She turned back to him and smiled. “Thanks for that.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “You’re welcome. Just watch your back.”

The two continued up the hill and onto the tombs. She observed the battlefield for a moment, crouching next to him for just a moment, looking for a place to break into the battle. She saw Sebastian better from here and wondered if she could run along the side of the army and get to him that way. “Cover me, would you?” she said. “I’m gonna get to Jace if I can—”

She dropped the seraph blades in her hands. The hood of a woman blew back, revealing brown, graying hair and a stony, blood covered expression. Even from this distance, she recognized the woman—her mother. Running towards Simon. 

She nor Alec could move fast enough. The multi-colored magic shooting from Magnus’s hands suddenly stopped as Amatis Herondale plunged a dagger into his chest. Magnus crashed to his knees, and Alec, mid-step and watching the scene unfold before him, fell off the tomb and rolled into the mess. Rowan fell next to Magnus as Amatis reared back, prepared to strike again. 

The world moved in slow motion. Against the Endarkened Shadowhunters, taken by surprise, Simon and Rowan had slim chances of defending themselves or keeping Magnus alive. She heard Alec, despite a red-cloaked man attacking him while he was still on the ground, call out to her. He only said her name, but she knew what he wanted. She had her opening to go after Sebastian, distract him or die trying until Simon got there, but he was pleading with her to save Magnus.  

Like she’d done with target practice a million times, she pulled the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The sound distracted several people over the sounds of battle, but she didn’t care—she watched the bullet fly through the air and strike her mother in the shoulder. It was the first time, with runed bullets, that the gun fired. It should have been a moment of pride, celebrating the years of work that went into this, but she watched Amatis fall face first into the ground. 

She took off like a bat out of hell, cutting through any Endarkened Shadowhunters that dared get in her way in the rush to Magnus. By the time she got there, Simon had run off, no doubt trying to get to Sebastian. That was the plan from the beginning. Rowan was trying to stop Magnus from bleeding out to little avail, and Amatis turned back to them for round two. 

“What has he done to you?” Andy called over the clanging of swords and cries of the injured. 

“He has made me tougher,” she said, breath heaving as she clutched her arm. “Faster. Better. Join us, Andromeda. You can be stronger than you’d ever dreamed!”

Andy scoffed. “Join you?” she asked. “You know I've never been one to follow orders, Mom.”

She sneered. “You will die tonight.” She rushed towards her, not before Andy could pull the gun again and fire one, two, three bullets at her, walking closer as she did so. All missed, save for the last one, that hit her shoulder and knocked her off balance. It startled her enough for Andy to pull her staff out, narrowly blocking an attack from her mother’s sword swinging for her head. She grunted and dug her feet into the ground, using the training her mother had personally taught her. Amatis attacked again and again, blade flurrying by, leaving Andy barely enough time to defend herself, let alone attack her too. 

“You can fight this!” she insisted, pushing back against her, pleading with her mother. She aimed to hit the bullet wound on her arm, hoping the pain would cripple her without injuring her further. She made solid contact but it didn’t stop her; it was like she didn’t feel pain. “Mom, you’re one of the strongest women I know! Don’t do this!”

Amatis paused, and for a moment, she thought she broke through to her. She saw a flash of the real Amatis, the one who may have struggled to show her affection, but she was still her mother. She wouldn’t hurt her like this. When she looked up, her bloody sword glistening in the moonlight, she wore the same cruel smile as the man Andy killed minutes before. “You are no daughter of mine,” she said, and sprung at her. Andy cried out, feeling the blade slice her knuckles and back of her hand as she put the staff up to block her attack. 

Amatis cackled, and a sinking feeling appeared in Andy’s chest. No longer was she confident, enjoying the adrenaline rush of battle, swinging swords against the ‘bad guys’. She now wondered if she would survive the night. 

[daughter-of-melpomene]

JORDAN ROBERTS

↳ for @carmens-garden as part of her holiday exchange; I really hope you like this!

[t4rtarus]

Spooky month au doodle dump

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸𝙸. 𝚂𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: fluff, flirting, pining, internalized negative talk | WORD COUNT: 8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: When Miller Contracting ends up in a bind, Joel wonders if you might be the solution to their problem.

Joel overheard it somewhere near the cracker and chip aisle. He’d been here enough over the past few weeks to recognize disembodied voices of some of the staff or to see you helping Mrs. Baker load up her car time and again, the latter of which he repeatedly swore to himself wasn’t completely intentional. He told himself he just kept the same scheduled date and time with Jordan because it was easier that way. It had absolutely nothing to do with the little dopamine hit his brain got whenever he saw you or got to talk to you in passing when he came in to buy lemonade.

“No, what I’m saying is that we don’t have time for this kind of shit when somebody already called out sick for their shift,” the store manager’s voice came drifting around the corner. All the sickly sweet customer service had been drained from his tone, and Joel imagined this was what he sounded like most of the time. Your typical run of the mill asshole who acted too big for his britches and could use a swift kick in the ass to knock him down a peg or two.

“Sorry, it’s just Mrs. Baker comes every week, and she’s a really good customer. I’m sorry that Robert had to ring up a few more people on his own, but I loaded up her car as fast as I could.” There was that sweet voice he’d become way too eager to hear every week - not that he sought it out or anything. Except the kindness usually found in it had deflated into a mildly panicked rush of explanation.

“However you wanna play your ‘I’m just so sweet’ schtick is up to you, but not when we’re swamped with customers,” Jeremy snaps. “Now get over to produce and straighten it up. It’s a fucking mess over there!”

The heavy stomp of feet fades towards the opposite end of the store. Joel peers from behind the endcap and confirms his suspicions that it had indeed been you on the receiving end of that prick’s badgering. Your head was still fixed on Jeremy’s retreating form. Fists clenching and unclenching at your side. Shoulders hunched and tight, raised so high they're practically touching your ears. Then all at once your body slumps into an accepted defeat, and you let out a long, tired sigh.

“He always that much of an asshole to you?”

You whip around in comic speed, hands flying to your chest in surprise at Joel’s appearance. Your eyes had gone the size of dinner plates, and you sucked in a deep breath like you were squashing a genuine shriek of surprise.

“Oh, didn’t mean t’scare ya,” he quickly allays, taking a step back and raising an apologetic hand of surrender.

“N-No, you’re fine. I just didn’t hear you.” You shake your head and fix your face with a soft smile. “Sorry about that.”

“He talk to all the employees like that?” Joel presses again.

“Like what?”

“Like he hasn’t had his ass beat enough times to talk nice to people?”

The surprised giggle busts from your chest like a swarm of butterflies, and Joel can’t help but grin even if the response is a little different than what he’d been expecting. He chalks it up to the leftover nerves of being startled a few moments prior. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, he’s just- we’re one person short, so he just sort of gets that way sometimes when he’s stressed. Just a bad day kinda thing.”

It’s bothersome how dismissive you seem about someone talking down to you, and if that weren’t bad enough, you actually sounded like you were defending that asshole a little bit.

“S’not really a reason to give somebody a tongue lashing like that - especially not a lady.”

He clocks the tight smirk that curves your mouth. “Well, thanks for the sentiment, and I’m - again - I’m so sorry you had to overhear that. It’s definitely not the customer experience we want to offer here, and I apologize that your visit with us was impacted negatively. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

“You always apologize this much for stuff that’s not your fault?” He wouldn’t usually be so blunt, but that was at least the fourth time you’d said sorry in half as many minutes.

Your smirk fades into dust. “What?”

“S’just, I mean– he shouldn’t be talkin’ to employees like that, is all. I couldn’t imagine talkin’ to any of my crew that way. Bein’ in a bad mood ain’t much of a reason to chew somebody out like that.”

“You manage a grocery store, too?” “Besides, it doesn’t make for good business runnin’ it like that.”

You both talk over each other, and Joel lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, sorr–” You clamp your mouth shut before you can finish the dreaded word. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You gesture for him to continue with what he was saying.

“You didn’t interrupt. We were just talkin’ at the same time. And, uh no, can’t say I’ve got the chops to manage a grocery store, but I do alright with my construction crew. I’m a contractor.”

Recognition dawns on your face. “Oh! Right! Miller Contracting, right?”

“Joel Miller of Miller Contracting, the one and only,” he confirms with a little wink.

Christ he needed to get a grip. Settling so easily into this sort of light, flirty exchange with you might not have been a conscious choice, but the last thing he wanted was end up being another creep hitting on you in the middle of your job when you didn’t have much choice but to stand there and engage. He was sure there was no short list of men who found all sorts of stupid things to ask for help with while you were just trying to get through your shift.

That small little grin was creeping back onto your features, and he tried very hard not to stare. 

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you without your car underneath you.”

“Well I guess we gotta work on the ‘outside the truck’ branding then.”

You glance over his shoulder to the produce section. Right. You had work to do, and he was holding you up.

“Well, uh… wish I could say I remember your name, but in all fairness I don’t think you got your name and number slapped on the side of your car for me to use as a cheat.”

“Well, I don’t think my name and number would be super visible on my bike frame, but maybe I can work out some kinda sign or something and zip tie it on there.”

You look amused, but Joel feels like an asshole. He’d seen you on a bike a million times and riding in a car approximately zero times. You probably didn’t even own a car if he had to guess. He thinks about all the unseasonable rain this past summer and wonders what you do to get to and from work on those days. Certainly not ride your bike in the pouring rain. Hopefully you caught a ride with somebody or did one of those rideshare things Sarah was always talking about.

“Oh, m’sorry abou–I didn’t mean for that to sound–”

“You always apologize for things that aren’t your fault?” Your small grin spreads into a wide smile, and Joel breathes a little sigh of relief that he hadn’t made a complete ass of himself. He’s further relieved when you refresh his memory on your name and the street you live on.

“Right. Your dad and brother live there, too. Right?”

Your face pulls tight for a second before returning to something more neutral. “That’s us,” you confirm in a brighter tone than your body language tells.

“Well, I’ll let ya get back to it.” He points his thumb behind him towards your waiting work. “It was nice talkin’ to ya. Hopefully won’t be under the same circumstances next time,” he adds with a searching glance for Jeremy.

“Yeah, definitely. It was good talking to you, Joel.” You dip your head and walk off towards produce. Joel rolls his eyes at his fumbling social skills. Since when did he get to feeling like a nervous teenager just talking to somebody in a grocery store? What was more innocuous than talking to somebody in the middle of a grocery store?

He shook his head at his awkwardness and headed to the drinks. By the time he made it back to his truck, he was going to be late no matter how many red lights he managed to avoid. Maybe he should push Jordan’s next appointment back a little next time. Just in case.

You hadn’t meant to laugh, but it came out before you could stop it. After all, Jeremy’s soft toothed bite was a drop in the bucket of what you’d lived with your entire life. Sure, you’d been a bit nervous in the moment, but that was more Pavlovian response to a man being upset with you than any actual fear being present. Jeremy was an asshole most of the time, but it didn’t grate you like it did a lot of the other employees. You suppose you could thank your father for that built in function of desensitization to acerbic men.

You’d been seeing Joel crop up on a regular basis every week now, and it had sort of become something to look forward to. He was easy on the eyes and always polite. It was nice having that sort of certainty in a shift. Today had been the most you’d talked to him since he started showing up every week. You weren’t entirely sure if he was seeking you out the way you sought him out, but it didn’t much matter as long as you got that little boost of encouragement mid shift.

He was a captivating person, making these small microexpressions you couldn’t quite pin. You’d spent your entire life tuned into the tiniest of shifts in mood or body language so you could be prepared to keep it from changing into something unpleasant. Managing the mood of the room was always how you’d looked at it. It had become a useful tool once you started working after your mom skipped town. Yet another unintended gift from your father.

You were still trying to figure out where Joel's mind had gone to after you corrected him about not having a car of your own. It almost looked like concern, but that didn’t make a lot of sense in the context of the conversation. And then he’d gone and apologized, but you weren’t sure why. You hadn’t taken any offense to his assumption that you had a car. Most people had to have a car to get hired these days because even the bus wasn’t considered “reliable transportation.” It was a giant middle finger to anybody unfortunate enough to not have the option of a personal vehicle.

Your thoughts drifted like they often did as to who that second lemonade was for. At first you’d deluded yourself into imagining that he got two for himself, but he’d just buy the bigger size if that was the case, right? It was sort of around lunchtime when he came every week, so maybe that’s when his girlfriend was available for a little work visit. Well, you assumed girlfriend. He didn’t wear a ring. Then again, he was a contractor. Sometimes they didn’t wear jewelry when they were working for safety reasons, right?

Dissatisfied with your meandering considerations, you focused your attention onto something more certain: how absolutely and insanely handsome he was, especially up close.

The whole contracting thing made perfect sense considering he was in pretty good shape for someone in his… 40s? 50s? He had enough grays sprinkled in his curly brown hair and patchy beard. He had a sort of authority about him that spoke to knowledge earned through experience while at the same time holding an air of confidence in someone who was comfortable with themselves.

He gave you the feeling that wherever he led, you’d be safe to follow. The unassuming, kind way he held conversation had you transfixed on the spot every time. There never seemed to be anything he was going after, no specific outcome or response he was seeking, and it had you chatting back and forth in an organic, instinctive sort of way that was foreign enough to make you feel out of sorts. It was rare that you were talking to someone without following the prompts or silent directions they laid out. And if carrying yourself in talk with someone without outside pressures wasn’t enough to manage, you had to force yourself to not stare at him.

The span of his shoulders was the stuff of wet dreams. They were the sort of shoulders you imagined gave rise to the phrase “weight of the world on your shoulders” because if any could support it they’d be his. His pronounced, curved nose winded down towards rounded, pink lips. His eyes crinkled whenever he smiled, and you had never thought the idea of fainting couches was actually a thing until he graced you with one of those Joel Miller smiles.

Come to think of it, the man explained a lot of idioms and metaphors that hadn’t really made much sense to you until you’d met him. A sight for sore eyes. Take your breath away. Go weak in the knees. Head over heels. You were sure there’d be more the longer you knew him. He was the sort of person who demanded something more than plain speech. He had something innately poetic and beautiful about him, and you felt yourself wanting to know as much as he’d let you know.

Whatever you’d yet to learn about him, one thing was certain: Joel Miller was a bright spot in your otherwise pathetic life.

“C’mon now, Jennifer. This is gonna put us in a hell of a spot,” Joel groans into the receiver.

Loud sniffles and a hiccup come through the other end. “I-I can’t s-s-see him! I’m already m-moving out this w-weekend. It’s over. He f-fucking broke my heart, Joel! I c-can’t d-deal with this! HE BROKE M-MY FUCK-FUCKING HEART!”

Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Jennifer had been a great secretary/sometimes personal assistant over the past seven years. He didn’t think too much of it when Corey started working for them a couple years ago and hit it off with her. It wasn’t long before he was turning a bit of a blind eye when they were getting a little too cozy in the office. It was happening more frequently as they were clearly going out of their way to see one another, but it wasn’t affecting anyone’s work so he let it slide. Besides, he didn’t want to be the grumpy boss dumping water all over the flame of young love.

About a year ago when Corey proposed, Joel and Tommy felt pretty good about their decision to not intervene on the budding relationship for the sake of professionalism or whatever else. Now, listening to Jennifer sobbing and quitting over the phone after she’d found out Corey had been cheating on her for a few months? Yeah, Joel is second guessing every time he maybe should’ve hit the brakes a little harder.

“Listen, Jennifer,” he pleads. “I know it’s fucked up, and I’m not makin’ excuses for him. I have every mind to kick his ass myself, but the thing is right now that you are the only thing keepin’ these books and calls and appointments together. If you quit right now, me ‘n Tommy are gonna be royally fucked.”

She lets out a new round of sobs, and Joel winces at his poor choice of words. “Listen, Jennifer, we can’t do this without yo–”

“I’m s-sorry, Joel, but you’re gonna h-have to,” she chokes out before the line goes dead.

Great. Perfect. The time of year when they catch up on all this shit, and now Corey had to go be a fucking moron about everything and wet his dick in someone who most definitely was not his fiance. Joel had tried calling Jennifer back multiple times to talk her into not quitting, but she shut him down every time. The only thing left to do was try to salvage what he could of everything she’d left behind. The phones were ringing way more than usual, and it took everything in Joel’s power to not find Corey every day and wring his neck for causing such a massive disruption.

Joel wasn’t a total stranger to all this stuff, but he hadn’t been in the throes of it for nearly a decade. Jennifer was at the helm for all this stuff for nearly 7 years, and Sarah had done most of the job before Jennifer came along. He'd taken it for granted, not having to worry about much of anything when it came to administrative stuff, and it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

Around the week and a half  mark since Jennifer quit, Joel had finally moved all the files and calendars into his home office. Most of the time he felt ready to light a match and not look back. His main focus was keeping payroll uninterrupted, staying on top of current project accounts, and following up with payments and client satisfaction.

He missed a weekly appointment with Jordan because of all this hubbub, which meant he also missed a week getting to see you. He’s tired and on edge now, but at least he has a chance of getting to see you. Mrs. Baker is fiddling with her trunk, and he isn’t sure if she just arrived or is on her way out. When she shuffles towards the driver’s seat, Joel safely assumes you’d already loaded up her car and headed back inside. “Hey there, Mrs. Baker,” he greets with as much warmth as he can muster.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she calls back. She frowns a little as if she can tell something is off, and she says as much to him. He explains the main points of his current predicament but makes sure to leave out all the details of the stripclubs and the hidden dating apps. “Aw, well that’s a shame,” Mrs. Baker tuts. “We’d be better off if there were more youth like the sweet girl who helps me with these groceries.”

“That I agree with ya on one hundred percent, ma’am.”

“Such a sweet girl. Reminds me so much of my granddaughter. You know, Ruthie? Sweet girl. Always so helpful and looking for ways to be helpful. Smart as a whip, too. Seems a little sad sometimes, but what do I know.” Joel isn’t sure if she means her granddaughter or you, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask. “Anyway, you take care now, and tell that brother of yours I said hello.”

Joel promises to do just that and heads into the cold store. Much to his delight, he doesn’t have to venture very far inside before he spots you. You spot him, too, and he swears you look happy to see him. “Hey there. Met the President of your Fan Club out in the parking lot again.”

You laugh and shake your head. “Mrs. Baker is the President of everybody’s Fan Club, I think.”

“Tell that to Sandra Bigsby from when we were about 6 or 7. Mrs. Baker couldn’t stand her. We didn’t much care for her, but it was always sorta funny to see an adult show so much dislike for a kid.”

“Oh, you know Mrs. Baker? Or, well, I guess you’ve known her your whole life?”

“Yeah, pretty close to. Went to the same church growin’ up. She and my folks were friendly.”

“Well that says something, doesn’t it? That she still remembers you all these years later?”

“Yeah, I s’pose it does,” Joel admits with a faint blush. “And, uh, she’s pretty vocal about how nice of a person you are and helpful as all get out, so there’s that, too. You know, if we’re talkin’ about her stamp of approval meanin’ somethin’.”

Your face softens into a bittersweet corner tug of the mouth, like you hadn’t heard anyone say they were proud of you for a very long time. “She’s a very nice lady,” is all you mumble in return.

“That she is,” he agrees. “And, uh, you know, good judge of character ‘n all.” The thought had already started formulating in Joel’s head: would you be somebody that could help with a few phone calls and appointments until he found a replacement for Jennifer? “It’s actually sorta funny that she’d be talkin’ about how helpful ‘n smart you are because I’m actually lookin’ for a bit of help with something right now.”

You pause and turn your attention to him fully, brow pinched in curiosity.

“Well, you know the whole Miller Contracting business. We’re actually in a bit of a bind at the moment with secretary type help. Had our girl quit outta the blue on us, so I’ve been tryna do my regular stuff on top of all the stuff she managed.”

“Oh no, that sounds awful. I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in your voice made Joel’s chest feel tight. “Yeah, it’s been about two weeks now, and I’m about ready to pull my hair out to be honest with ya.”

“No, I’m sure it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Yeah, that’s sorta where I was goin’ with this,” he presses. “I wouldn’t suppose– I mean, I know you work real hard here ‘n all, but if you were lookin’ for somethin’ like some extra hours, I mean….”

You tilt your head and purse your lips. “I just work at the grocery store. I don’t have any skills for office work or anything,” you breathe in a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ve never done any stuff like that, really. I don’t have any experience, I guess is what I should say.”

“I mean, yeah, some of it is using computer programs and whatnot, but a lot of it is just picking up a phone and followin’ up with clients and appointments. I’m sure you know how to use a phone.” Joel scratches the back of his neck and looks off to the right to displace some of the jittery nerves he seemed to get whenever he had to hold conversation with you.

“How do you even know I’d be helpful?” You ask this like it’s a genuine question, as if you can’t fathom a scenario in which you’d possess the capabilities to do something more than what you currently do. It makes Joel feel sad for a passing moment knowing that Mrs. Baker must’ve been talking about you and not her granddaughter Ruthie when she’d said all those things: sweet girl, always so helpful, always looking for ways to be helpful, smart as a whip, seems a little sad sometimes.

If anything, it strengthened his resolve to talk you into it. “I trust Mrs. Baker, and so do you. So, if she says I’m a nice young man or whatever, and you believe that to be true, then you also gotta accept that she vouches for you as somebody that could really help me out right now.”

Something about this seems to land with you. It occurs to Joel that asking you to place the trust in someone else’s view of you is easier than trusting your own beliefs and judgments. Seems a little sad sometimes echoes again as he watches you consider his request.

“I mean, is it–I can’t cut my hours here,” you say like you’re talking yourself through it aloud. “And I don’t have a car, so if the office is – I don’t know where the office is, so if it’s kinda far off then I wouldn’t be able to get there.”

“No no, no need to cut hours,” Joel assures. “And I actually just moved all of it to my home office so I could work on it after hours, so it ain’t too far from your house.”

“Oh?” You perk up at that. “That’s actually, yeah. That could actually work, I think.”

“And I ain’t lookin’ to short ya or anything on pay. It ain’t like a personal favor or somethin’. I would pay you right,” he rushes to explain. He was glad you didn’t think it was creepy or unprofessional he was asking you to work out of his house. You didn’t seem too put off by it at all. In fact, you seemed to have rooted in something that made you almost excited about it. The tentative hope that bubbled up in you gave him a strong urge to say or do something that would give him the opportunity to do it again. And again. And again.

“No, of course not. I know you wouldn’t do that, Joel.”

God, the way his name rolled off your tongue was like butter sliding down a hot biscuit. 

“So, you need me a couple days a week or ….?”

“Ah, well, yeah I’m willin’ to take up as much of your time as you can give me, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The easy smile that spreads across your features makes Joel feel like his brain just shut off and restarted. He blinks a few times and smiles back, a loose goofy thing he hoped didn’t make him look like too much of a dope. He gets himself together enough to exchange information with you and get a rough schedule for your help over the next couple of weeks. He apologizes in advance for his training abilities, but you just laughed it off and tell him it’ll be fine.

He had a feeling you were right.

You felt like you were flying the entire bike ride home. Not only were you going to have a secret stream of income that your father couldn’t touch, you were going to be spending more time with Joel Miller. The man who every time you talked to him it felt like you were slipping into a cozy warm bath. This type of thing was what the Kenzies of the world experienced, not you.

You tamper down your floaty feelings of happiness in case your dad was already home. The last thing you wanted was to rouse his suspicions about anything. You breathe a sigh of relief when you don't see his car in the driveway. It’s all a giddy blur getting inside and plopping down starfish onto your bed. You open your ancient slide screen phone and scroll down until you find Kenzie’s text thread.

You: how’s the job stuff going? miss u at the store :(

Kenzie: omg same :( but its going so good! ive already met so many ppl

You: I knew you’d hit it off right away typical kenzie lol

Kenzie: omg stop haha is jeremy being a tool still

You: the same so yes

Kenzie: ugh hes the worst istg

You: actually wish you’d been there the other day when he was being so loud getting on my ass that a customer overheard him

Kenzie: omg did they complain

You: no they just made sure I was okay it wasn’t like awful or anything just more awkward than anything Jeremy had always walked away

You: *already

Kenzie: was this customer a boy lol

You: no not a boy

Kenzie: aw booooo tomato tomato i thought u were gonna tell me a night in shining armor came to ur rescue

You: all I said was not a boy ;)

Kenzie: oohhhh a MAN?

You: lol yes Joel Miller

Kenzie: uuummmm mr lemonade hottie?!??!!

Kenzie: 👁️🫦👁️

You: ha ha yes

Kenzie: omg i would hav e died hes so hot

You: he was very nice :)

Kenzie: yeah ok and hot

You: I mean yeah duh

Kenzie: 💀

You: actually he offered me like a side hustle thing today

Kenzie: 👀

Kenzie: um explain pls bc that sounds kinda sus 

You: 🙄 the secretary at his contractor business quit I guess so he needs some help with phonecalls and stuff until he can hire somebody else

Kenzie: ummm he could just hire u 🤨

You: I don’t have the experience for that no way

Kenzie: u could learn in like 2 secs

You: yeah I guess we’ll find out soon

Kenzie: when do u start

You: next Tuesday

Kenzie: ok when he offers u the job pls let me be there when u quit in jeremys face bc i wanna see it 

You: yeah okay kenzie 😐

Kenzie: look at us out here becoming business professionals omg love that

You: you’re crazy lol

Kenzie: i know 💃

You laugh to yourself and let the phone slide beside you on the mattress. It felt nice to finally have something good to share with somebody.

The agonizing wait for Tuesday finally passes. You have the day off, and Joel shifted his schedule around to dedicate the entire day to showing you the ropes. You waited for your dad to leave for work and then biked over to Joel’s.

“Mornin’,” he greets warmly.

“Hey, how’s it going,” you return.

“Bit better now that I got somebody else to help with this clusterfuck.” He stills for a moment like maybe he shouldn’t be speaking to a quasi employee with such coarse language.

You wave a dismissive hand in his direction as he gestures for you to come inside. “I’m not going to tell you how to talk in your own home, Joel.”

And what a home it is. The space is muted but cozy, all earth tones like things grow and flourish here. Like the stories the walls hold are those of good times passed and good times to come. It makes your heart ache in such a distinct way, longing for something you don’t even know.

“It’s a bit of a mess, sorry,” he apologizes.

“It’s really nice here, actually.” 

He offers you coffee, which you politely decline. He shows you his makeshift setup in his home office, and you spend the first few hours together just familiarizing yourself with the basics of the operation. You listen intently, categorizing and organizing every bit of information he shares. You’re determined to prove yourself, even if this isn’t a long-term thing. You watch his eyes squint when he’s explaining something more detailed. You watch the way his large hands grip so delicately around the mug of coffee, voided pitch black and bitter for a man who conveys neither attribute himself.  You watch how his lips purse and flatten as he takes the time to explain things to you, pausing every now and then to make sure you’re understanding what he’s saying.

If watching wasn’t distracting enough, his shoulders would bump into yours every now and again when he’d lean forward to point out something on the laptop screen. His knees would knock against yours or a thigh would rub when he’d reach across you for a second to tap a few keys on the far end from him. The smell of him was intoxicating when he rested an arm along the back of your chair to lean in and explain something on the screen. It was a heady almost floral – no, citrus – sort of scent, mixed with an earthy bit of coffee and moss and woodwork.

The programs themselves seemed straightforward enough, but navigating and manipulating them was where the struggle would lie. Despite his hesitance at training you on all this, he had an amazing knack for adjusting his communication closer and closer each time to what was most comprehensible to you. It felt intimate in a way, his ability and desire to modify himself just so that it might be an easier undertaking for you.

By the time you get to lunch, you feel almost dizzy in the space with him. When he excuses himself for a minute to take a call from Tommy, you take the first deep breath you’ve had in a long time. You busy yourself with something so he doesn’t return to find you being lazy. You look over Jennifer’s physical calendar books and contacts. She has such legible, neat handwriting. Different bits of information are written in different colored inks – a sort of profiling system, you think.

At the bottom of each contact’s field on the page, there’s a small purple note. It’s always something random written there, no discernible pattern other than tidbits of personal information one might use to individualize an interaction. Factoids about a birthday or a vacation spot with a year next to it. Little snippets like do not call after 2 pm! or observes both Christmas and Hanukkah. Reminders like friends of the family and send copy to wife.

Besides all the helpful Purple Prompts – what you deemed them to yourself after reading the 6th or 7th one – the account overviews are also immaculately organized. The dread of getting anywhere near close to this level of competency starts to creep up on you and pull down. You push it away and focus again.

“Yeah, those are her handwritten things,” Joel announces as he walks through the door. “I haven’t gone over those much if I’m bein’ honest. Mostly just been tryna keep all the digital stuff goin’.”

“She’s very tidy,” you note.

“Definitely had all our ducks in a row,” he agrees. “That’s the downside, I guess, of havin’ somebody so damn good at their job. When they leave, it takes multiple people to do a poor imitation of ‘em.”

You grimace slightly at his remark, which prompts him to hastily add, “Not that you’re a poor imitation of anybody! I just meant it– you know– listen, you’re doin’ great.” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even more than it already was. Bits of silver catch in the light when he tilts his head. There was something so attractive about a man who wasn’t afraid to let his grays come through. Not holing himself up in the bathroom every week for 20 minutes with a bottle of Just For Men and a beer while he painted away any traces of wisdom and experience.

“Do I have somethin’ in my hair?” he worries as he runs his hand through it again. You realize you’re staring.

“Oh, no! It looks great!” you squeak out in embarrassment. “You look great. Very handsome.” Your eyes bug out in shock at the casual compliment word vomit. You turn in your chair quickly and busy yourself with the laptop. Joel just chuckles softly and settles into his chair next to you.

“Wow, brown nosin’ the boss already, huh?” he teases. “You better watch out before I start fishin’ for compliments.”

“I wasn’t–I didn’t mean to–I’m sorry,” you stutter.

“Hey now, I’m just kiddin’. It’s good for an old man like me to have his ego boosted every now and then, right?”

You snort and shake your head but keep your eyes glued to the laptop screen where you’re busy doing a whole bunch of nothing. “You’re not even old.”

“Okay, now you’re really just butterin’ me up.”

“No, I swear. You don’t look old. To me.” Your face feels like it’s a million degrees and counting.

“Oh? Can I get that in writing?” he laughs. “Would come in handy to show Sarah the next time she gives me grief for my creaky knees.”

“Oh yeah, that’s your daughter, right? The one who did all this before Jennifer?”

“That’s the one, yep,” he confirms. “Little shit gives me a hard time any chance she gets. Between her ‘n Tommy I’m tempted to say it’s borderline bullying.”

You giggle at his tellings of family and downtime and home life. It sounds nice. “Oh come on, you can’t be that old.”

A glint of amusement dances in his eyes, mouth tugging up in one corner. “Go on. Give me your best guess.”

You scoff and get a little nervous. You don’t want to offend him. Truth is, it wouldn’t matter if he was old. He was kind and sweet and drop dead gorgeous. He motions for you to wager your guess. “Um. I dunno. Um. Fourty…. three?”

He tuts and leans back as if to take in all your audacity at guessing so low. “Oh c’mon now, give me a real guess.”

“That was a real— ugh, okay. Um. I mean. I dunno, fifty six?”

“Now you’re just gettin’ wild with it,” he busts out in a deep laugh. 

You fidget your hands in your lap, fingers picking at imaginary pieces of dead skin hanging off of them. You’d never really been good at telling people’s ages, and this felt like a test you were failing somehow. “Well, I don’t know! I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid.”

“Aw, don’t say that, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, not one bit. I’m just teasin’ you. I’m comin’ up on 50 in a coupla weeks, actually.”

Sweetheart. It had poured from his mouth like a thick nectar, burning a sugary halo into your ear.

“Oh, happy birthday!” you say in a way-too-breathy-to-be-appropriate voice.

He waves you off but thanks you anyway. “See, you sorta had it. Just in between the first and the second number, yeah? You weren’t too far off. No need to feel bad or anything like that. And certainly no reason to feel stupid.”

“Okay, gotcha,” you agree quickly in the hopes that he’ll stop complimenting you. 

“Besides, you’re what? Twenty… er, twenty?” he offers weakly.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at his ridiculous guess. 

“Hey now, it’s different for ladies,” he protests with an impish smile.

“I’m the ripe old age of twenty three,” you hum with a shrug. "Twenty four in a few months."

“Christ, you’re makin’ me feel ancient now. Sarah was already born by the time I was twenty three.”

“No, I think that’s just a generation thing. My parents had us young, too.” Your stomach clenches at the conversational transition to your family. If Joel notices your odd change in posture or behavior, he doesn’t say anything.

“Hm, maybe. Maybe so,” he agrees. “Well, it’s due time for a little break. You don’t have to stay in here – unless you feel more comfortable doin’ that.”

You realize you didn’t pack anything to eat. “Um, I think I’ll actually just, uh, head back home for a little bit if that’s okay. I forgot to pack anything to eat like a moron,” you huff in self-directed impatience.

“You ain’t dumb. Quit sayin’ that. It’s worse than you apologizin’ all the time,” he gently chides. “Just come on down to the kitchen with me, and I’ll make you a sandwich or somethin’.”

Your mouth hangs open for a moment in surprise at his earnest appeal for you to not tear yourself down. It was a far cry from your usual day to day. “Okay, but only if you’re sure?”

He lobs one of those devastating smiles your way. “Very sure. Let’s go.”

He hasn’t made somebody else a sandwich since Sarah was probably in her late teens. He’s overthinking it now: how do you fold the ham so it sits right? What angle does the cheese go? He assembles it in the most presentable way he can manage, but he doubts you’d have any complaints. You don’t seem like the type to complain, even if it might be warranted. Even if you might want to.

At first it just read as polite and good home training, but the more he’s around you the more he feels like it’s just a veneer. Not that you wouldn’t be kind and considerate of your own accord, but the inclination to do so feels very much forced at times, like there’s some small voice in your ear constantly dictating which move should come next. Sometimes you get flustered at some perceived wrongdoing on your part, all imagined, and Joel just hopes he isn’t unconsciously doing something to make you feel so nervous.

It’d hit him like a lead cloud when you came into his home and looked around as if it was some sort of breathtaking sanctuary. He felt the waves of immediate, riveted comfort rolling off you. And then that small smile of yours when you’d said it’s nice here, actually, the one that plays so timid on your mouth like you’ve taken a lot of nerve to speak whatever words fell from your lips. He couldn’t help but soften and drink it in. 

He tried so, so hard to not stare at you while he was trying to go over the basics of the company and its workings. Every unintentional bump or glide against you felt like a scorching surge of electricity straight through him. And your face when you were concentrating, how you’d sometimes nibble on your lower lip when you were listening really hard to something he was saying. He’d had to look away a few times when his cock started kicking against his thigh in appreciation.

But then you’d gone and done that thing again where you talk down to yourself. Sorry this, stupid that. He hoped he wasn’t making you feel that way. He wanted to see that same smile that softened your face when you’d first arrived. He kept lunchtime light on conversation, letting you take the lead on it. Turns out you’re a bit like himself in that you don’t feel the need to fill every moment of silence with something. The comfortable silence felt nice, though. It wasn't often he could just sit with somebody and enjoy solitude together. It was a different sort of peace to have that with someone.

Eventually he spoke up, though, not wanting to give an impression that he didn’t want to talk to you. You seemed more relaxed now, and it warmed his blood to think he might’ve had something to do with that. You’re agreeable, as always, when he mentions pay at first might just be an under the table situation until he figures out if he needs to - or is capable of - adding another employee to the roster. You seem perfectly fine with his cash offer. In fact, he thinks you seem to be relieved in a way. He’s not sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t spend too much time on it. Not when you’re sitting across from him smiling about something and laughing under your breath as you tell him some random little tidbit.

Every morsel feels like a feast, but you? You’ve made a glutton out of him. He might be able to drink you until he’s sick, but he doesn’t think he could ever drink enough of you to be satisfied.

You hope and pray that baking Joel a cake for his birthday isn’t too weird. Now that you’re standing in front of his door, the same door you’ve frequented over the past few weeks since you started, you sort of wish you hadn’t done a lemonade flavor cake. It felt sort of personal but in a forced way. You should’ve just went with chocolate or something and made it less pushy and awkward.

But you forget all about that when he opens the door for you and erupts into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen when he spots the confection. He grabs it up like he’s elated and eager and over the moon at your silly little gesture. Your eyes flit to where his band t-shirt flexes against the bulge of his bicep and tugs across his chest. Your eyes wander down to the curvature and fit of his jeans against his hips and thighs as you follow behind him into the kitchen. The denim clings and pulls as he bends towards the counter to set the cake down. You can feel the heat on your chest creeping up your neck.

“This is just– thank you,” he says in earnest.

You smile back at him and shrug. “Just thought I’d brown nose the boss some more, you know?”

His whole face lights up at your gentle teasing. “Well, it’s working.”

“Would it undo it if I said I didn’t want to put candles on there because I didn’t want to risk burning the house down? Fifty is a lot, you know.”

He breaks into a deep belly laugh at that. “Sarah would give you a gold star for that one.”

He grabs you up into a loose, friendly hug. Your hand shoots to his chest and snakes up in a fraction of a second. He pulls back, still smiling, and rubs your back. “Thank you. Really.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist.

You both pull away from one another and eat a slice of cake.

It’s nearly the end of the month, and Joel has a growing funny feeling lodged in his chest. Once he thought it, he couldn’t unthink it. Once it crossed his mind, it had boomeranged back and rooted itself firmly into place and exploded. You look like you belong here in his home. It melded around you as if you’d always been a part of it - were meant to be here -  and what was worse was every time you were here it felt like a missing piece had come back to fill the empty space left behind. 

He wishes he could blame it on that hug when you’d brought him cake for his birthday, when your hand grazed across his chest and left a blazing fire in its place. But, no, it had started before that, and it was only getting worse. He listens to you now taking on a sometimes alright sometimes difficult client. They were behind schedule on starting a project for him. He was a repeat customer, but he was no nonsense about things.

“No, of course, Mr. Dillard. And I hate that all this is going on when I know it’s probably a tough time for you, too,” you say softly into the landline in his home office.

There’s some gruff sound on the other end.

“Oh, I apologize. I just– Joel had mentioned about Duke passing last year, and I know the first anniversary of something like that can be so difficult.”

Joel’s head cocks to attention at that. He hadn’t said any such thing. He leans in closer to listen to whatever it is that you’re concocting. There’s a long pause and then softer speaking.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said anything– Oh– no, right —”

Another pause and a muted voice. You nod your head and purse your lips in agreement and faux understanding even though Mr. Dillard can’t see it.

“He mentioned it when I told him you were on my list of clients to call next. He has a memory I would kill for, I swear. And he’s always had a soft spot for dogs– oh my god, don’t tell him I said that, though. He might kill me if I’m going around telling everyone he loves fluffy puppies,” you giggle.

He hears what sounds like gentle laughter over the receiver before more unintelligible comments.

“No, and we appreciate how wonderful everyone is being about it. We’ve certainly been trying to put on a brave face, you know. She feels terrible about having to exit like that, but we keep telling her she absolutely should be focused on her health right now.”

More garbled conversation on the other end.

“Well I’m not at liberty to say, but I cannot express how much that means to us that you’re asking after her. I just know she appreciates all the support with how fast everything happened. Yeah. MMmhhhmmm. Yes, your thoughts and prayers mean so much to us, and I will definitely let her know that you are thinking about her.” 

Joel’s jaw would’ve been on the floor if possible. Mr. Dillard was okay for the most part, but god could he be a jerk if you caught him in the wrong mood. Here you were pulling some story outta your ass that had him doing a 180º and asking after Jennifer’s health after her brisk departure.

“Okay, now. I’ll be back in touch very soon, Mr. Dillard. Alright. You take care now. Buh-bye.”

You set the receiver down and scribble a few quick notes in purple ink. He doesn’t remember when he’d bought a purple pen. Had you bought that to just keep up with Jennifer’s established system?

“You’re amazing,” he laughs – an incredulous tone.

You knock him out with one of those bright smiles of yours.

tagging a few people who showed interest (lmk if you wanna be removed):

@witchy-and-persnickity @sheepdogchick3 @tuquoquebrute @ellenmunn @akah565 @goodwithcheese @koshkaj-blog @umnitsa @ellenmunn @jupiter-soups @pastelnap @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @cumberpegg @witchy-and-persnickity @persephone-girl @lovelyjess69 @verybigvag @nutterbitter @sunshinehaze1 @tuquoquebrute @beelzebeth87

[dymdrimluga]

My old OC Avin Embry

Once I played a play-by-post game and this was my character. The game was based on the setting of "The Wheel of Time" by Robert Jordan.

My character was a native of Andor, a young man of minor aristocracy, with an older brother who was generally responsible for the future of the family, and a younger sister who once announced that she wanted to try to become Aes Sedai.

Avin did not know what he wanted to do in the future. He did not see himself in a military career, and did not know what else he could do. His family was not particularly rich, but their wealth was enough to have some time to find himself and his purpose.

Being old enough to leave home for a short time, and having a reputation as a responsible enough person, not prone to bad behavior, Avin received permission from his parents to accompany his sister on her journey to Tar Valon. To spend time away from home, to see the most beautiful city in the world - what could be better for a young man?

They were traveling on a ship when they learned that one of the passengers was an Aes Sedai. Avinʼs sister really wanted to know if she was capable of anything, and so she asked Ais Selay to test her if it was possible and if she was willing. She agreed, and one of the tests was to freeze a cup of water. Amazingly, after several attempts, under the control of the Aes Sedai, Lorien managed to make a very thin, barely noticeable layer of ice on the surface of the water.

Everyone was happy and full of hope. The evening was warm, the sunset beautiful and pleasant, and Avin and one of the passengers decided to drink a glass of wine each while sitting on the deck. The wine was watered down, but that didn't really bother Avin. All his thoughts were about the miracle he had just seen.

How exactly? What makes water freeze? What is the difference between water and ice? New thoughts that had never occurred to him before flooded his brain. What power could do what he saw? How much does he still not know about the world? Why had he never thought about it? How could such a miracle be done not even by an Aes Sedai, but by his sister? He felt how the wine and thoughts made him feel hot and cold at the same time, fearful and joyful. He plunged into his thoughts so deeply that the whole world ceased to exist, leaving only the setting sun and the warmth of the sun's rays somewhere behind him.

"I don't recommend doing it here," Avin heard the voice of his companion. He emerged from his thoughts, still not understanding what had happened, and looked at the cup in his hands, and saw the thick crust of ice on its surface.

This is how his story began.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: Writerly Questionnaire

Thanks to @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver and @agirlandherquill for the tags!

Rules: Answer the questions!

Long post incoming!

About You

When did you start writing?

My earliest attempts at writing books are from when I was about 9 or 10, scribbling in a sparkly pink notebook something that was in essense video game fanfiction. It will never see the light of day again. The WIP I've had for the longest, The Watcher and the Thief, I started when I was 12 and writing a backstory for my human ranger in Dungeons and Dragons.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I love reading fantasy and I love writing fantasy, specifically high fantasy and portal fantasy. I'm always looking to expand my reading taste and go outside my comfort zone but fantasy fiction is my jam and always will be.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Honestly there are so many authors that I'm obsessed with that I probably subconsciously emulate and would be absolutely honored to be compared to including but not limited to Brandon Sanderson, Robert Jordan, Brandon Mull, Leigh Bardugo, Weis and Hickman, uh yeah probably others.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I've done most of my writing in the living room of my house, sitting on the couch closest to a plug for my laptop charger with one of those lap desks and said laptop on my lap. It's either that or sitting on my bed or hiding in the basement if my housemates are too distracting (rare). I have also been known to write on my phone from time to time when I have the time but not the laptop.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Go on a walk or a car ride with one of my WIP playlists playing. I also brainstorm while waiting to fall asleep in bed.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

I mean my mom was the one who kindled my love for fantasy books, but otherwise I don't think so.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

There seem to be a lot of wanderers, whether seeking something or on a mission or traveling aimlessly. Draven and Octavian post-THtMatC, Jas and Killian, the ToS crew. Most of the aforementioned people are also willing to go out of their way to help someone in need or their mission centers around providing aid.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Of all time, Octavian de Silv. I go into further detail here. Otherwise I can't really choose because I love my ocs for different reasons.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

I think I'd be friends with Jas or Reese. With Jas it would be the classic case of an extrovert adopting an introvert, and with Reese we'd bond over our love of reading.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Obviously any of my villains, and if I ever met Draven I would get annoyed with him real quick. I don't get on well with people irl who share his personality.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Well, I usually start with a slot to put a character in a story. Then I throw an appearance on them, usually traits that might stand out to a POV character upon their introduction. Then I decide a name and personality. All of this is subject to change at literally any time. All of it.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Including what I've said before... a lot of the protagonists exhibit some of my own traits like stubbornness extreme perseverance and creative problem-solving with violence.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I picture them in my artstyle as I have doodled and drawn and such, I also use picrews to help me better visualize their appearances, although those obviously do have limits.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I love flailing about my characters in different ways, including Problems, Situations, Shenanigans, etc. I have plots and stuff but I write because I love my characters so so much.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

Any comment (that isnt hate) is a good comment :) I do love when people *cough, cough* @fourwingedsnake make funny comments regarding the characters or a line or the situation in general

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

Storms I dunno I just want people to like my writing/my characters/my worlds

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Creating memorable characters and also accidentally forming new magic systems

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

I've noticed that people really like my ocs so y'know win there, other than that I've never been to my memory explicitly told

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I feel like I've improved a lot over the last year or so, and prompt events/posting on Tumblr has got me in the habit of writing every day, even if it's just a brainstorming session. I definitely feel more confident in my own abilities and more comfortable showing my writing to people (still hesitant about showing my irl friends/family for obvious reasons)

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Yeah???? I write first and foremost for me and it would definitely help me cope with the loneliness of being the last person on earth. Maybe the next dominant species will figure out English and read it.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I for sure write what I enjoy. If readers don't like it they don't have to read it, and if I don't like it I won't finish it even if others enjoy it. My writing my rules deal with it and if you can't the unfollow/block button is right there

Tagging @faytelumos @fourwingedwriter @thewritingautisticat @stargazer-luna @phoenixradiant @pluppsauthor @pluttskutt @elizaellwrites @gamerkats @happypup-kitcat24 and open tag! :D

About You When did you start writing? Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write? Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared? Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.) What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse? Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about? Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all? Your Characters Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.) Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life? Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters. Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters? How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.) Your Writing What’s your reason for writing? Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers? How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.) What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others? How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.) If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write? When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence

[emotionaldashtoons]

Here's my poster of my official version of my version for my DisneyElseWorld's Pixar's...

INSIDE OUT 2!

I saw the new Inside Out 2 trailer, and they made Anxiety, Ennui, Embarrassment, and Envy bad by betraying the old emotions. Lots of crazy stuff is about to happen! We don't know what's going on, lots of details are there too. But what would the ElseWorld version be like?

SO!

For my idea. I have 6 new emotions, one of my OC emotions I've created like, Courage, Surprise, Pride, Trust, Frustration, and Shy.

MAIN VILLAIN

I am using on of my oc villains, Spite, to be the main villain of the AU second movie.

OTHER CHARACTERS

Characters like Nia, the assistant of Spite, she runs the business with him but she tries to avoid him to help others. Bud, Courage's blood cell buddy, he doesn't speak but he's sweet, nervous, cute and got some attitude. And Brain, the big boss of Riley's mind, and the emotions need his help to stop Spite.

What New Places Would the Emotions Go To?

In this AU, far from HQ and Long Term Memory, instead of the back of the mind being empty, there is a huge mind-filled city called Mindtopia, aka, The City of Riley, where everything in the mind has everybody for Riley's Inner Workings in her mind. That also includes Headquarters. And guess what, they're not the only company, there's also banks, council buildings, restaurants, malls, houses, apartments, and everything for Mind Workers after they work at Long Term Memory. And The Mind Councilman, Chairman, is the Mind Prime Minister.

Returning Cast like...

Amy Poehler as Joy, Lewis Black as Anger, Bill Hader as Fear (YES! I'm bringing Bill Hader back! He's so much funnier then I expected), Mindy Kaling (Yeah yeah, I get it, Velma is garbage but her acting as Disgust wasn't) as Disgust, Phyllis Smith as Sadness,

Kensington Tallman as Riley, Diane Lane as Mrs. Andersen, and Kyle MacLachlan as Mr. Andersen.

With All-Star Cast like...

Chris Pratt (The LEGO Movie films, and Onward) as the new outside leader emotion known as Courage, Sam Richardson (Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken, and Veep) as Surprise, Kate McKinnon (Ferdinand, DC League Of Super Pets, and Saturday Night Live) as Frustration,

Zach Woods (The Office, & The LEGO Ninjago Movie) as Trust, Randall Park (the Ant-Man, and Aquaman films) as Pride, Tituss Burgess (Central Park, Angry Birds Movie, and Spellbound) as Shy, Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Seinfeld, and A Bug's Life) as the sweet and huge, Mother Esteem, Eugene Levy (Finding Dory, and Schitt's Creek) as the mind algorithm boss of Riley Andersen's Mind/City of Riley known as Brain, Nathan Fillion (DCU's Superman, Monsters University, and Cars 3) as the very evil and hilariously charming, but whiny, Spite,

Ilana Glazer (Netflix's Green Eggs and Ham) as Spite's sarcastic female assistant, Nia, Dan Fogler (the Fantastic Beasts films, and The Walking Dead) as Mind Councilman Chairman, Ken Jeong (Transformers: Dark of The Moon, The Hangover, and Scoob!) as Yes Man, Alan Tudyk (the Moana, Frozen, Zootopia, and Wreck-it Ralph films) as Mind Gate Guard Jimmy, Peter Sohn (Ratatouille, Monsters University, and The Good Dinosaur) as the emotions new best blood cell companion named Bud, Stephen Root (Barry, King of the Hill, and Finding Nemo) as Doc Stem,

Yvette Nicole Brown (Disenchanted, and Avengers: Endgame) as Riley's middle school P.E. coach, Mrs. Roberts, Brady Noon (Good Boys, The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers, and Tales of The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) as Jordan, Haley Tju (Amphibia, and Big Hero 6: The Series) as Kelli, Raymond Ochoa (The Good Dinosaur) as Riley's bully, Francis, Josh Peck (Drake & Josh, and Drillbit Taylor) as Francis' bully friend Lars, Bruce Campbell (the Evil Dead, and Spider-Man films, and Sky High) as Dale Daley, Rob Huebel (Knuckles, and Goosebumps) as Geoff James,

Bobby Moynihan (Hoppers, and IF) and Paula Poundstone (Home Movies) as The Forgetters, Paula Pell (Sisters, and Netflix's Big Mouth) as Mom's Anger, Flea (The Wild Thornberries) as Mind Cop Jake, Carlos Alazraqui (Fairly OddParents) as Dad's Anger, Dave Goelz and Frank Oz (the Muppets films and Sesame Street) as Mind Cop Frank & Mind Cop Dave, John Ratzenberger (the Toy Story and Cars films) as Fritz, Nick Jonas (the Jumanji films) as Imaginary Singer, and The Lonely Island (Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone, and Andy Samberg) (Hot Rod, and Chip & Dale: Rescue Rangers) as Imaginary Cupids.

CREW

Written & Directed by Josh Cooley

Co-Directed by Bob Peterson

Produced by Mark Neilsen, p.g.a.

Executive Producers Pete Docter, Andrew Stanton, and Jonas Rivera

Story by Josh Cooley and Pete Docter

Edited by Kevin Nolting

Cinematography by Patrick Lin and Kim White and Adam Habib

Production Designer Jason Deamer

Story Supervisor Peter Sohn

Additional Dialouge by Dan Scanlon, Bill Hader, and Amy Poehler

Visual Effects Supervisor Bob Pauley

Supervising Animators Lou Romano and Jerome Ranft

Music Scored by Michael Giacchino and Andrea Datzman

Casting by Kevin Reher & Natalie Lyon

[ginger-grimm]

OC NEW YEARS CHALLENGE 2023-2024

Day 3: In My _ Era

Stranger Things came and went, Disney's Descendants are slowly clawing their way to the top, but undoubtedly, Glee has kept steady employment under my direction. I've created seven new Glee OCs this year and show no signs of stopping. I will never be stopped.

TAGLIST: @waterloou @eddysocs ​ @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @richitozier @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

[ginger-grimm]

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, THANK YOUUU! This is incredibly well put together but I expected nothing less of you. You are incredible at these things and I appreciate your friendship so much. Thank you 🥰

For @ginger-grimm as part of her Birthday Exchange. HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNA! I had so much fun making this playlist for my fave boy, and I hope you have an excellent day filled with awesomeness!

[the-siren-in-your-fridge]

This damn book series has me drawing diagrams to understand what in the hell is going on and further convinces me that Robert Jordan was determined to make his super cool oc Rand the coolest mfer ever to Chosen One

[turkishdclights]

hello! thinking about picking up a few extra 1x1’s over discord! i literally love chatting back and forth, sending headcanons, making pinterest boards, finding insp/musings with my partners. looking for someone who can be a little more active and just as enthusiastic about our plot and characters as i am! i write muses of any gender, and will be happy to write against any gender as well!

faces i love: adam driver, oscar isaac, shay mitchell, eiza gonzalez, michael b. jordan, ayo edebiri, medalion rahimi, jessie mei li, janhvi kapoor, camila mendes, arjun rampal, jenna ortega, michael trevino, riz ahmed, literally anyone from twice, jeon somi, hasan piker, natalia castellar, naomi scott, tessa thompson, can yaman, justin baldoni, emeraude toubia, jeffrey dean morgan, robert downey jr., g-eazy, yahya abdul-mateen, summer bishil, olivia lopes, kiara advani, gabrielle union, diane guerrero, lizeth selene, simone ashley, samantha logan, alexa demie, michael evans behling

tropes i love: corruption, age gaps, forbidden love, celebrity plots, long distance, toxic dynamics, power dynamics, secret relationships, slow burn, enemies to lovers

like or message if interested. some specific ideas under the cut!

dylan arkan (hasan piker fc) - let me write my big jealous 6’5 twitch streamer himbo against your twitch streamer or influencer character in a secret relationship slow burn plot

tony stark (rdj) - i would love to write as or against tony stark with another canon MCU character, preferably may parker or helen cho. open to ocs as well

alexa cortez (jenna ortega) - give me any gender against alexa in a horror/witchy small-town inspired plot

zara rao (janhvi kapoor) - my fav muse to write, would love her in more forbidden romance plots as she navigates her strict family and cultural pressures

open to so much more! i don’t bite, please feel free to suggest things!

[x-ceirios-x]

City of Lost Souls, Chapter 21: Raising Hell

please see the masterlist for notes about this series/collection of works

"Can you see her?" Jocelyn demanded. "Is she there?"

Simon tried to focus on the milling darkness ahead of him, his vampire senses sharpening at the distinct scent of blood. Different kinds of blood, mixing together—Shadowhunter blood, demon blood, and the bitterness of Sebastian's blood. "I see her," he said. "Jace has hold of her. He's pulling her behind that line of Shadowhunters there."

"If they're loyal to Jonathan like the Circle was to Valentine, they'll make a wall of bodies to protect him, and Clary and Jace along with him." Jocelyn was all cold maternal fury, her green eyes burning. "We're going to have to break through it to get to them."

“We need to get to Sebastian,” said Rowan. “Simon, we’ll make you a path. You get to Sebastian and run him through with that sword. Once he dies—”

"The others will probably scatter," said Magnus. "Or, depending on how tied they are to Sebastian, they might die and collapse along with him. We can hope, at least." He craned his head back. "Speaking of hope, did you see that shot Alec got off with his bow? That's my boyfriend." He beamed and wiggled his fingers; blue sparks shot from them. He shone all over. Only Magnus, Simon thought resignedly, would have access to sequined battle armor. 

Rowan pulled their chakram off of their belt and turned toward Simon, white-knuckled fists on both of them. They were anxious, as much as they were trying to hide it. “Are you ready?”

Simon's shoulders tightened. They were still some distance from the line of the opposing army— he didn't know how else to think of them—who were holding their line in their red robes and gear, their hands bristling with weapons. Some of them were exclaiming out loud in confusion. He couldn't hold back a grin.

“Hell, Simon,” Rowan said exasperatedly. “What are you smiling about?”

"Their seraph blades don't work anymore," said Simon. "They’re trying to figure out why. Sebastian just shouted at them to use other weapons." A cry came up from the line as another arrow swooped down from the tomb and buried itself in the back of a burly red-robed Shadowhunter, who collapsed forward. The line jerked and opened slightly, like a fracture in a wall. Simon, seeing his chance, dashed forward, and the others rushed with him.

It was like diving into a black ocean at night, an ocean, filled with sharks and viciously toothed sea creatures colliding against one another. It was not the first battle Simon had ever been in, but during the Mortal War he had been newly Marked with the Mark of Cain. It hadn't quite begun working yet, though many demons had reeled back upon seeing it. He had never thought he would miss it, but he missed it now, as he tried to shove forward through the tightly packed Shadowhunters, who hacked at him with blades. Rowan was on one side of him, Magnus on the other, protecting him—protecting Glorious. Rowan’s silver knives flew through the air and shone in the moonlight, and Magnus's hands spat fire, red and green and blue. Lashes of colored fire struck the dark Nephilim, burning them where they stood. Other Shadowhunters screamed as Luke's wolves slunk among them, nipping and biting, leaping for their throats.

A dagger shot out with astonishing speed and sliced at Simon's side. He cried out but kept going, knowing the wound would knit itself together in seconds. He pushed forward—and froze. A familiar face was before him. Luke's sister, Amatis. As her eyes settled on him, he saw the recognition in them. What was she doing here? Had she come to fight alongside them? But—

She lunged at him, a darkly gleaming dagger in her hand. She was fast—but not so fast that his vampire reflexes couldn't have saved him, if he hadn't been too astonished to move. Amatis was Luke's sister; he knew her; and that moment of disbelief might have been the end of him if Magnus hadn't jumped in front of him, shoving him backward. Blue fire shot from Magnus's hand, but Amatis was faster than the warlock, too. She spun away from the blaze and under Magnus's arm, and Simon caught the flash of moonlight off the blade of her knife. Magnus's eyes widened in shock as her midnight-colored blade drove downward, slicing through his armor. She jerked it back, the blade now slick with reflective blood; Rowan screamed as Magnus collapsed to his knees. Simon tried to turn toward him, but the surge and pressure of the fighting crowd was carrying him away. He cried out Magnus's name as Amatis bent over the fallen warlock and raised the dagger a second time, aiming for his heart.

Amatis drove a knife toward Magnus’s heart—just as a loud boom sounded over the fighting. Something small, a bullet, Simon realized, flew through the air. He did live in Brooklyn, but he thought Shadowhunters didn't use guns. The bullet slammed into Amatis’s shoulder with such force that she spun halfway around and fell face-forward to the rocky ground. She was screaming, a noise quickly drowned out by the clash of weapons around them. Rowan knelt by Magnus’s side; Simon, glancing up, saw Andy on the stone tomb, standing frozen with a smoking gun in her hand, blond curls blowing in the wind. She looked like a character from a movie—blood staining her face and gear, staring her mother down without an ounce of sympathy.  Rowan had their hands against the warlock’s chest, but Magnus—Magnus, who was always so kinetic, so bursting with energy—was utterly still under their touch. They looked up and saw Simon staring at them; their hands were red with blood, but they shook their head at him violently. 

“Go!” they shouted. “Find Sebastian!”

With a wrench, Simon turned himself around and plunged back into the battle.