#we did a spooky month of prompts

[liesforaliving]

The beating of her heart resounded in her ears. She glanced at the door where she could see Hunter staring at her in panic, This is not good. Not good at all. Shit. She shuffled her chair with every ounce of energy she had left knocking the muzzle of the rifle farther down. That was the best she could do.

The wire tightened and she tensed up in hesitation.

The sound of a gunshot in her dream woke her up with a jolt, which caused her to wince in pain. She sat up and put her feet solidly on the floor, so she could take a deep breath.

[mercifulmemories]

Rus, even coming from a cold country like Germany, was not a fan of the cold. He'd moved to LA for that reason. The sun, the sand, the beaches. With all the weather though, today was cooler than usual, and cloudy, which gave the air a crisp feel, and he was feeling a bit more under the shroud of gloom lately. Out for his usual run, Ruslan had to pause half way because he just felt the weight of the weather.

Sitting on a bench, he focused his breathing, and listened around him. It was oddly quiet. Almost eerily so.

But it was chilly, and he was alone, and it all suddenly felt very heavy with that realization.

[katesgotabow]

@killingxmachine I wrote this one specifically for our verse. don't judge me.

Her time in Hawaii was a good way to clear her head, and focus on what's important to her. Kate had learned that she needed to focus on her, and she struggled to realize that until after shit had hit the fan and she almost died, again. Running on the beach had been a suggestion from McGarrett, and she took it to heart. She preferred going early in the morning, so she could continue with her day with the right mindset. Steve sometimes ran with her too, but it wasn't a regular thing. He needed to prefer swimming, and that was fine with her.

What she hadn't expected today, was to see wood and metal wash ashore. She stopped her run, kneeling down to look at it, finding part of a name on it, which she could only see when she turned the flashlight on her phone on. She frowned before she called Steve. "Hey, uhhhh yeah, it's okay. I'm a ways up the beach and found some shipwreck pieces. You, uh, might wanna come look at it…."

[devilstherapist]

Linda turned her porch light off when she was out of candy and chips, and locked the door behind her. She made her way back through the kitchen, grabbing a glass of wine, and making her way out onto the patio, where she turned on the outdoor fireplace, and curled up on her patio couch, enjoying the peace and quiet. 

She could only hope that someone didn't call, saying they were coming over. She wanted some quiet time by herself. Actually, she probably needed it, more than just wanted it. 

It was Halloween, after all, who knows what else the night could hold…

[hollywoodsdevil]

Lucifer was impatient, and livid. He was sitting on the side of the highway waiting for the Detective to come rescue him, while they waited for the tow truck. He not only had 1 flat, but 2, because someone had compromised his tires, he was sure of it! And he was going to find the culprit and kick their ass. They’d be sorry that they messed with the Devil, and his precious car!

“Detective, where are you? I need to find this bastard!” he complained, calling her for the 5th time. Childish. Much? Maybe. “My car is a classic, and needs to be treated as such, Detective, what don’t you understand about that?”

[rumxko]

There weren’t many things that surprised her these days, and the passing of her father wasn’t any different. She knew it was a high possibility. Rumiko knew she had to be the dutiful daughter in this case and go home. Tony would understand and join her when he could. She knew that. But sitting in the church for the company ceremony, before the traditional funeral services was still a weird thing. She knew she should be in the receiving line, and saying thank you to those of those that came to support and who expressed their grief to their family. However she hadn’t expected the handful of people that came to see the casket, head to toe in black. 

She didn’t recognize them, and that wasn’t unusual, but the fact that she hadn’t recognised them at all was really what struck her as odd. Rumiko quietly watched them from her seat, and tried to listen if they were saying anything. She couldn’t tell from her seat, but they soon turned and filed out single file, and she looked back at her father’s casket, then back at them as they left the church. What had just happened?

[just-jordie-things]

I know he's not your favorite but consider... #73 with Itadori... short reader has a crush on him but is too afraid to confess bc she knows he likes tall girls lol I think this could be super cute

kiss prompt 73: height difference kisses where one person has to bend down and the other is on their tippy toes

a/n: first time writing for itadori !!! ___

if you had to think about it, you'd had a crush on itadori yuuji since the day you met him.

after getting a call from megumi where he'd begrudgingly asked for your help tracking down a cursed tool that some spooky-loving school club had snatched before he could, you hadn't expected things to take the turn they did.

as soon as you'd run into the pink haired boy, it was like a daze took hold of you. megumi honestly could have believe you'd been poisoned with how you stammered over your words and moved awkwardly. he'd never seen you so out of it when exorcizing curses. you were sloppy, defensive maneuvers delayed, offensive maneuvers... megumi would have gotten the job done better when he was ten, so, let's just leave it at that.

but nothing would have stopped itadori from eating that finger, and, well, we all know what happens from there.

you were surprised with how quickly he adapted to an entire world he'd never known the existence of. he was an avid learner, eager to train, eager to educate himself. he was always asking you questions that megumi found silly having grown up in jujutsu society, but you'd been happy to talk to him for hours about the ins and outs of it all. that was how your friendship began to blossom, you supposed.

it was easy to crush on yuuji. he was kind, handsome, silly, and had a warm energy about him that just drew you to him like a moth to a flame. even with your harbored feelings for him, being around him was easy, and comfortable. you'd only known him a few months, but the way he treated you made you feel like you'd been close friends for years.

however, due to how close you'd gotten, you were well aware that you were not his type. he'd joked a few times about how he liked tall girls like jennifer lawrence, and you didn't exactly meet that standard.

after he'd casually let that information slip, you found yourself comparing the height difference between you two more often. it was no shock that he was taller than you, you could remember the first time you'd met him you'd tilted your head back to stare up at him- your eyes had been blown wide like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. he'd just leapt through a window like it was nothing and fought alongside you like his entire reality hadn't just flipped upside down- but now that he'd made his ideal type clear, you'd frown when it would dawn on you that you were barely even an average height.

you'd stand up a little straighter when you were standing before him, but even still you'd tilt your chin so you could look at him properly. he'd noticed the sour expression on you a few times, but you always brushed it off as something else. it felt sort of childish to tell him that you were upset for not being taller.

it's one afternoon that you're out shopping with the other first years that you finally tell him the truth. not that you'd planned to, of course, you were ready to take this secret to the grave.

but you're wandering around with yuuji, half avoiding nobara who was on a rampage and throwing armfuls of clothes at megumi, and half looking at the display of silly hats. some of them were cute, but most of them were pokemon themed, or beanies with funny saying.

yuuji had excitedly picked up a fluffy pikachu hat, complete with the tall ears, and fluffy yellow flaps that hung down your face, ending in paw shaped pockets that you could stick your hands into. he was grinning as he turned to you to tug the hat over your head. you had half a mind to scold him for ruining what was a good hair day, but you keep it to yourself. he looked too happy to have you model the accessory for him.

and you'd thought it was cute, at first. then you take note of how he has to stoop over to reach your level in order to properly adjust the dorky hat, and you're made aware again of how short you are in comparison to him. of how small in general you are compared to him. his tall stature complete with broad shoulders and biceps that were starting to display how hard he'd been training himself- as appealing as he was to look at, you're frowning due to your own self pity.

and when he's done playing with the droopy ears on top of your head and sees the look on your face, he's frowning, too.

"what's wrong?" he asks, quietly, worriedly, like a good friend. "you don't hate pikachu, do you?"

it makes you laugh, even just a little bit, and yuuji gives you a small smile in relief that his joke worked to ease your sad expression, even just a little bit.

"no, it's not pikachu," you huff, pulling the hat off your head and placing it carefully back on the mannequin. "i'm just short"

his brow furrows, assuming at first that he'd heard you wrong, but when you don't say anything else and give him an awkward shrug, he realizes you're serious.

"so?" he asks, chuckling to himself. "what's so bad about that?"

you avoid his gaze while you pretend to take interest in the other hats on the wall, despite you not being a hat person, which he knows.

"it's pretty dumb" you say, running your fingers over a fluffy sylveon cap that was similar to the pikachu one.

"try me" yuuji smiles at you, leaning into the display to catch your attention again. his smile reaches his eyes, and he seems to genuinely hopeful to ease your foolish concern, that you find yourself giving in.

"promise not to laugh at me?" you mutter.

he raises a hand to his chest, drawing an x over his heart before raising his palms towards you in silent promise. you crack a smile at how serious he's taking this.

you take a deep breath before confessing the thought that's been plaguing your mind for the last few weeks.

"i know you like tall girls," you say, staring straight ahead at the sylveon hat like it had been the object of your desire for our entire life. "and i know i'm not even close to being called tall,"

yuuji blinks a few times, his brows raising as he processes this information.

you were upset because you didn't consider yourself his type? did he understand that right? so this was because... you wanted to be his type?

"well, maybe a fifth grader would think i'm tall," you began to mumble to yourself. "but that doesn't really make me feel better-"

"you think you wouldn't be my type because you're so short?" he cuts off your rambling, and she turns to him with a bewildered expression.

"well you don't have to put it like that," you mumble with a furrowed brow. "kinda makes me feel worse-"

"(y/n), i promised i wouldn't laugh," he cuts you off again, stepping forward to wrap his hands around your shoulders. "but that's the dumbest thing i've ever heard!"

you frown up at him, not comforted at all at his attempts to make you feel better.

"you're really bad at this" you tell him, and he begins to break his promise as a few giggles escape through his toothy grin.

"are you kidding?" he teases. "you're the cutest person i've ever met!" he reaches his hands up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together playfully. "i don't want you to be any taller, i like you just the way you are!"

your face begins to heat up under his touch, and with his hold on you, you have no choice but to stare back at him, only making your blush burn hotter.

"you are my type, even as a tiny lil' tater tot," he says, and despite his laughter, you can tell he's being completely genuine. you can see it in the shine in his eyes as he stares at you. "that doesn't matter. what matters if you're a really awesome fucking person, and a badass"

the knot between your brows begins to relax and your lips curl into a smile at his sweet words.

"you're not just saying that?" you ask quietly, just to be sure he wasn't spewing out bullshit just to make you feel better.

yuuji laughs at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling from pure joy. he doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to say anything else.

instead he leans over you, bending almost dramatically to reach your short stature in order to press his lips against yours. it's a short kiss, but it's sweet, gentle, warm- all things yuuji.

when he pulls away, before he can stand back up properly, you're shooting up to the tips of your toes, your hands flying towards his shoulders for balance as you return his kiss. it's fast, eager, curious- all things you. he can't help but smile against your lips as he drops a hand from your face so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

you both distantly hear a harumph! from a passerby in the shop, having forgotten you were still in public. you pull away with sheepish smiles and pink cheeks.

"you are short though" he tells you point blank.

"i know, yuuji" you huff.

"but i like it" he says proudly, and you turn away so he won't see how your blush is spreading down your neck.

you still notice the significant difference in your height often, but it's mostly due to yuuji pointing it out every time he bends over to kiss you from there on out.

___

a/n: i love him sm it's criminal that i haven't written for him :'( xoxo ~ jordie

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | complications

masterlist | tag list

words: 2.9k warnings: 18+ | angst, near death experience, blood, reader has a traumatic birth w/complications, PTSD naturally, joel reminded of sarah's death, newbown baby (yes they can be spooky! but this one is cute and safe), (please just somebody take that poor man's pain away) (or not because then what would we write about?) (also he and ellie are a little estranged like in tlou2) prompt: I was thinking maybe Jackson! Joel era and pregnant reader and then she almost dies while giving birth to the baby! Gives room for a lot of drama and angst, and potential comfort right at the end for our favorite old man. tags: (i know it's been a while since I last posted so let me know if you want to be untagged) @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl note: you can read this as pedro's joel if you so wish, but i am in my game!joel feels rn

“I can’t do this, Joel.” Your face creased with pain as another contraction wracked through you. You’d known that labour would hurt, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to come on this quickly, and so strong. You hadn’t yet passed the eight-month mark, and you weren’t prepared. Not even a little. You hadn’t even sorted the nursery yet, or found a crib.

Joel held your hand on the floor of your living room, keeping you supported while you braced against the couch. He brushed the hair from your face, calm and unreadable as ever, but even you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled against your skin. “You got this, baby girl. I know you can.”

“Don’t think you have much of a choice.” Your doctor, one of the few midwives in town, lifted her head. She sat at your feet, peeling off her gloves after your examination. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming right now.”

“There’s no time to get to the infirmary?” you questioned, voice rising in panic. The contractions had barely started an hour ago, and sure, you’d left it a little late before confessing that they were getting painful. Ellie had rushed out not fifteen minutes ago to call for your midwife’s help, and now…

Now, the baby was coming, and all you could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The pregnancy had been a shock to your system. You hadn’t even been sure that Joel would want to go through with it after everything he’d experienced before. But he’d held your hand through each ultrasound, felt your belly for the first kick, and even when you saw fear — dread, even — cross his features, you could easily reassure him that this time was different. This time, it was safe. You’d lived in Jackson for over a year now, and it was the security of the community that had made motherhood feel possible. 

The midwife shook her head. “I’m sorry. You need to start pushing on your next contraction.”

“Oh, god,” you whispered, teeth chattering as the weight of the situation hit you.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel tilted your chin gently. “It’s gonna be just fine, darlin’. You just breathe and push, okay? We’ll do the rest.” 

“Right, just breathe and push,” you muttered. “Of course, you forgot the part about shoving a small human out of my hoo-ha.” 

He smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Oh, right. That little detail.”

“I kinda hate you right now.” Just as you said it, another contraction hit, and your head fell back as you moaned. 

“Push now if you feel like you should!” your midwife reminded. Then, to Ellie: “Go get some clean towels, hon. Lots of ‘em.”

In the doorway, Ellie looked grateful to be given a job and scampered off. 

You did as instructed, dipping your chin into your chest as you pushed, pushed, pushed. A scream ripped through you at the pain it brought, each moment worse than the last. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good. She’s gonna be here so soon,” Joel whispered, his grip around you the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now. 

Dizziness consumed you as your contraction finally eased. “Is she okay?”

“I’m seeing the head.” The midwife beamed. “Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Somehow, you breathed, and you pushed, and you felt your way through the pain as your body broke and mended and then broke again. Joel kept his grip on your hand tight, reassuring, but you saw him bite his lip toward the end and knew that he might have been just as terrified as you. 

The final push finally came, and you sunk back as the newborn's cry rang out.

“She’s here. You did it,” Joel murmured, kissing your clammy temple. He laughed into your skin, the sound of joy and disbelief sending a shiver through you. You tried to lift your head, to see your daughter, but everything felt wrong. Heavy. It still hurt, and black spots dotted your vision. 

“Le’ me see her.” Your words were slurred, your voice far away.

The last thing you heard was Joel calling your name, his voice raw and broken — terrified. 

***

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. 

“She’s bleeding too heavily. I need to get her to the infirmary.”  The midwife shook her head, handing him the screaming newborn. His screaming newborn. It had taken months to quell the panic of becoming a father again — not that he had ever truly stopped. Sarah had lived in his heart all these years, and Ellie was his daughter, even if she hated him for what he did. 

He made the mistake of looking at you, and the sight of the blood made him sick. So much of it. There was so damn much of it. He’d seen a lot of people bleed out, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this much. 

“Shit," he cursed.

He didn’t know when Ellie had returned, but she stood wan and she’ll shocked beside him now.

“Please, take her.” He shoved the baby into her arms before lowering back to his knees to grab your hand. “Don’t you dare do this to me, baby. Not now.” 

“Can you carry her to the infirmary?” the midwife asked desperately.

He didn’t think twice, slipping his arms under your limp body. 

“Joel! She’s gonna be alright, right?” Ellie stuttered, and he heard the panic in her voice, too, as she swayed the baby from side to side, swaddling her in blankets. You were the closest thing Ellie had to a mother. If either of them lost you…

He couldn’t even try to find an answer, as much as he wanted it to be yes.

He gritted his teeth, hauling you up on shaky legs. Thankfully, the infirmary was only a few blocks away, and nobody was there to slow him down so late at night. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. One minute, he’d been settling down for the night after a long patrol shift. The next, you were curled up in pain, claiming the baby was coming. 

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, fingers curling into your old sweater. His old sweater, if he was being particular, but you’d stolen it from him so long ago that it smelled completely of you now: soap and fresh air. Blood. 

He staggered into the infirmary with that smell still in his nostrils, dampness spreading across his hands, and he damn near passed out on the threshold. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave you, even when flashes of him holding Sarah this exact way raced through his mind. Even when a broken sob stuck in his throat, because he was holding on, and you weren’t, and she wasn’t, and why did he always have to be the one to watch the life seep from them? To end the night with nothing but their blood on his hands?

He set you down on the first bed he came to, drawing the alarmed attention of the nurses, who had a moment ago been ready to dose off on their night shift. In such a small community, they weren’t often needed after dark.

Behind him, the midwife called out orders, wheeling you away into the surgery theatre. He watched you disappear into a white-walled room, a tiny thing that never would have sufficed in the old world. 

In the old world, you probably wouldn’t have given birth in a living room. In the old world, he wouldn’t be stiff with a fear he couldn’t control, frozen with memories that refused to ever leave him.

He spun around and felt unsettled to see Ellie cradling the baby, mouth agape with the same cluelessness he felt. His baby. His. He had to be a father now, but he didn’t know how when you weren’t here with him. He felt like that thing he was always losing in his dreams was finally gone for good. Ripped from him one last time.

He couldn’t look at the baby’s cherubic face. Couldn’t even look at Ellie.

He couldn’t remember why he’d been so relaxed just yesterday to think of the little life you’d both been impatiently waiting to begin. Couldn’t remember how he’d found the strength to sing a lullaby to your bump, laughing when a foot kicked his palm as though telling him to shut the hell up. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was so tiny and pink and new, wrapped in bloody blankets, and he…

“Go give her to one of the nurses,” he whispered. 

“Joel—” Ellie made to protest, but he couldn’t hear it. Wouldn't.

“Ellie,” he snapped. “Go give her to one of the damn nurses. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have a fucking choice, because she’s yours now.” Ellie shoved her into his hands without warning. He tensed with the new weight, bile rising in his stomach. No. No. No. Everything he held, he broke. 

But then the baby let out a gurgle, her feet kicking his palm just like the night before when she was still safe in your belly, and he couldn’t keep from looking down at her. Couldn’t keep from seeing you in all her innocent features. Eyes, nose, even the fine tuft of hair on her head. 

“I can clean her down and check she’s doing okay,” a nurse offered, and suddenly, he was reluctant to let her go. 

And then he remembered you, the blood, your motionless body after so long spent screaming, Ellie’s hatred, Tess, Sarah, and he was glad for somebody else to take care of her. The further away that kid was, the better. He was a fucking curse, and she…

He scraped a hand over his face, pacing over to the surgery room. He didn’t dare march in, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said from behind him gently. “She’s strong, and I’m sure shit like this happens all the time.” 

“I told her we’d be okay,” Joel rasped out, face crumpling finally. “I told her that it would turn out alright, that we could be… That we could make something good here.”

“And you will,” Ellie said. 

He shook his head. “I might as well have killed her my damn self.” He looked down at his bloodied hands as though they weren’t his. They shook more than they ever had before. 

“Stop it! She’s going to make it. She has to!” Ellie’s yell took him aback, piercing in such a quiet, echoey space. She jabbed a finger into Joel’s shoulder. “And you have to hold it together. I know it’s fucking hard, alright, but you don’t get to lose it now! You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in our lives, Joel! That’s not how it works!”

He swallowed down his own self-loathing, head bowed. “I can’t do it without her,” he whispered. 

The rawness in his voice must have been visceral, because Ellie paused, her eyes filling with tears. 

And then she hugged him, tight enough that he thought maybe she was trying to keep him in one piece. He let out a ragged breath and held her. And then he did what she asked. He tried to hold it together. 

***

You woke to whispers and gurgles and wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. Your lids were heavy, body distant, and you couldn’t quite remember where you were or who was supposed to be with you. 

Until you prised your eyes open and found IVs plugged into your veins. 

“There she is,” a voice said softly. 

You blinked, searching for the source, and found it in a bleary version of Joel. He sat in a chair beside your bed, a tiny baby in his arms. His smile was shaky, distorted, and you didn’t know why. Not until he leaned forward and brushed your hair from your face with his free arm.

“Thought you’d left me there for a second.” 

“Is she okay?” Your throat was hoarse. 

He nodded. “Right as rain. It’s you we were worried about.” 

You frowned, trying to remember. One minute, you were pushing as though your life depended on it, and then the next, you were just… gone. 

“You had a heavy bleed. Needed a transfusion,” Joel explained finally. “But they reckon you’re gonna be okay, thank god.” 

“But she’s okay?” You stared at the baby nestled against his chest, not quite sure how she was here. When had this being growing inside of you become a real, tangible thing? How much of her life had you already missed?

Joel sighed impatiently. “Yes, baby. She’s perfect. Takes after her mom in that department.”

He moved to perch beside you so that you could get a closer look. He was right, of course. She was a little smaller than most newborns, but she was perfect. Pink apple cheeks, wide eyes, tiny fingernails. Looking at her felt like everything had finally fallen into place. You tickled her chin and her lips twitched with something content. Something right.

“How’s it feel, being a daddy again?” you asked gently, looking up at him. 

“Right now, it feels like hell. You can’t go scaring me like that.” He wouldn’t look at you, frown set firmly on his daughter. “Thought I was gonna have a heart attack."

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been. After everything, you’d finally thought that danger, terror, was a thing of the past. You’d done a great job of ruining that, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Joel had lost too much before to deal with all this, and you had no idea how you’d cope in his shoes. 

He chuckled. “You’re sorry.” Shook his head. “I ain’t trying to make you apologise for almost dying, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“We said we could do this right,” you whispered. “I promised you it’d be different.” 

“Yeah, well… feels like things’ll never be different for me.” 

You snapped your head up. “What’s that mean?” 

“Nothin’.” He sighed, kissing your temple, and yet still, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “How about you get some rest? I’ll keep the little missus company.” 

“Joel.” You cupped his jaw, pleading now. Everything felt so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though the proof was right in front of you, it was hard to believe your baby was happy and healthy after all the trauma you’d faced. “We’re not gonna start her life this way. Tell me what you mean.”

He placed the baby down in the crib beside your bed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep having to plan a life where I’m alone again, and honestly, I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to. Not this time.”

“But you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t. For a minute there, I thought…” His voice grew thick, and he shook his head. “Sarah’s gone. Ellie hates me. Why the hell did I think it’d be third time lucky? She’s not even a day old, and she almost lost her mom! And there was nothing I could do. There’s never anything I can do.”

Your heart ached for him. One day, you prayed he wouldn’t hold the responsibility of every single person he loved on his shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d been foolish to go into this thinking it could be better. The world would never be safe, not even here in Jackson, and the pain he must live with every day sure as hell wouldn’t ease now he had another daughter to raise. 

You felt hollow at the thought that maybe he’d leave. You wouldn’t blame him, not really. You were scared, too. But you’d only found the strength to do this because you were together, and you’d survived the odds so far. If that stopped feeling true… what then?

Devastation must have been written all over your face, because he pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to me, baby. I shouldn’t be sayin’ all this. You’re barely out of the woods.” 

“I don’t think we can keep doing this if you don’t let some of that guilt and blame go, Joel,” you admitted. “I think your daughter is gonna need a man who doesn’t hate himself for every single thing that’s wrong in the world. You’re right. There was nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. It was my body, and things like this happened even before the outbreak. I can’t imagine how scared you were, love, but fuck, you can’t keep making it your fault. It isn’t. It never was, especially not with Sarah. And this baby? She isn't Sarah." 

He winced at her name, as he often still did. Collapsing back in his chair, he took your hand. Slowly, his lower lip began to wobble as he finally met your gaze. “I love you too much to lose you. And her… How the hell am I gonna do this?” 

“I can’t answer that,” you said. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, he bowed his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Gonna try to be better. I promise. I'll hold it together."

“You don’t need to be better, and you don't need to hold it together. You’re already a good man, and talking about all this is important - for both of us. And for her.” You squeezed his fingers tightly. “I love you so much.” You teared up as you looked at the baby dozing in her crib. “And god, I love her. Can you believe we made her?” 

He hummed. “What the hell are we gonna call her?” 

“And where the hell are we gonna put her?” you added, worrying at your lip. “We never even found a crib.”

He shrugged, teasing. “I’m sure we’ll find a corner somewhere.” He leaned forward, tracing circles along your arm. “We’ll make do. Between the four of us, we’ll find a way. I’ll cut the damn trees down and build us a place from scratch myself if I have to.”

You smiled, peace finally flooding your exhausted body. You saw Ellie standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, and knew Joel was right. Your family was complete now. It would be a little broken at times, as all things were, but you’d do everything in your power to keep it whole. 

Even if it meant reminding Joel every damn day that he had to be gentle with himself.

[robbinghisdick]

It's as they're wrapping up yet another potential world ending threat when Hal's voice cracks across Bruce's comm-link.

"Hey, heard everyone's still alive."

Bruce is more relieved to hear his voice than he'd ever be able to let on. "We could've used your help." It comes off harsher than he means to.

"Missed you too, Spooky." Hal sounds tired. "Any chance you can come meet me in the Watch Tower?"

It has been a solid nine months since they had last seen each other. Their ambiguous relationship meant they had sex before Hal left and Bruce pretended that he wasn't bothered by the radio silence. It was better to keep things more professional, less involved, in any case.

Bruce glanced around at the barely contained destruction around him. They might've actually come away from this incident with no casualties. Superman and Flash have doubtlessly already scoured the affected area for anyone caught in the crossfire.

"I'll come up in a few." He didn't bother asking why Hal wasn't coming down to talk to him. If he could, he would have.

"A few what?" Hal asks in exasperation. "Minutes? Hours?"

"Maybe more."

"Oh my god," Hal hisses, "you are insufferable."

The slightest of smiles twitches on Bruce's lips. "I'll be up as soon as I'm sure I'm not needed down here."

///

Hal looked just about as tired as he sounded over the comm. It was clear he hadn't showered in a few days, hair disheveled and greasy, tired bags under his eyes. While there weren't any apparent injuries on his body...

"You had a baby."

Babies, especially newborns, grew up fast. This baby looked only weeks old at most. If Hal hadn't joined the fight, Bruce estimated the baby was only days old, and that Hal was far from recovered.

Hal snorts. "Great deduction skills there, detective." He swallows hard. "Can you solve the rest of the mystery?"

For a moment, Bruce doesn't say anything. He stares at the sleeping baby, at its whispy locks of dark hair. He glances back up to Hal's eyes, notes the guarded look on the other man's face given away by his tense shoulders.

It doesn't take a genius to put together the fact that Hal wasn't pregnant when they last slept together nine months ago.

Bruce's eyes fall back down to the baby, chest constricting as he finds himself moving forward towards Hal. He wordlessly reaches out, and Hal responds in turn after only a moments worth of hesitation to hand over the baby.

Cradling the baby in one arm, Bruce pulls off his cowl with the other. Bruce suddenly finds himself needing to sit and finds himself sinking into the nearest available chair.

"For what it's worth, I tried to get back to Earth before he was born."

Bruce barely hears Hal, making a small hum of acknowledgement. His hand reaches to touch his son's face before freezing. He's quick to bite off his glove and drop it off to the side. The baby barely stirs as Bruce rubs his finger against his cheek. The tiniest eye peeks open, not enough to really see his eyes before it closes again and he grunts softly.

When Bruce is finally able to tear his gaze away, Hal is looking at him nervously.

Suddenly there is issues to be had with their ambiguous relationship... but Bruce doesn't really feel like getting into all of that at the moment.

"Have you..." His voice comes out hoarse, prompting him to clear his throat "Does he have a name yet?"

Hal relaxes a little. "I've just been calling him "little man" the past couple of days. Been thinking of some names, but I really thought I'd have time to talk to you first."

The thought that Hal had an entire pregnancy on a foreign planet was enough to unnerve Bruce. Hal could've died, the baby could've died, and Bruce might not have ever found out.

"Are you mad?" Hal asks after a beat of silence.

Anger was far from Bruce's mind. "Did you purposely keep your pregnancy from me?"

"It pains me that I couldn't use the pregnancy against you and you wouldn't have been able to fight back," Hal laments with a sigh, an attempt to lighten the tension. "But no. I couldn't get back home, it was out of my hands." He studies Bruce for a moment, a serious look on his face. "You're not upset at another kid being sprung on you?"

Bruce had met Damian not too long ago, all things considered. He had wanted him, back when he found out Talia was pregnant, before she lied about a miscarriage and left him. Ten years he was left out of his child's life.

"No," Bruce says, looking back down at the infant, "this is the first one I've been able to hold."

He's carried his Robins before. When Dick was still so young and tired, when Jason was hurt and could've walked it off, but didn't pass off a chance to be carried, Tim in a rush to get him somewhere safe when he got injured, and Damian as huffed and puffed about being fine, but didn't fight Bruce too hard on it. He's held Cass hard enough to hurt and she held him back just as tightly.

This was different. He never got to hold his own baby.

Bruce feels his throat constricting. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. "What names did you have in mind?"

"Was considering maybe Thomas after your father, Tommy for short."

Bruce briefly considers it, but is very quick to decide no. "Maybe as a middle name. What about your father?"

Hal immediately shakes his head. "No. He's too young to be a Martin."

It's not like Bruce had never thought of names before, names he would've potentially given Damian... but that was for a different time.

They lapse into silence.

"Are you okay?" Bruce finally asks, taking another good look at Hal. He wasn't sure where they were going to go from here.

"Just need some rest, really." Hal rubs at his eyes. "It's been non-stop for weeks now--"

"Hal!"

In a blink, Barry is there, hand on Hal's shoulder. "Where you've been, man?"

"Oh, you know, space," Hal smiles and brightens up a bit.

"Very descriptive," Barry said with a huff. "You look like shit. You alright?"

Hal waved him off. "Yeah yeah, I'm fine." He gestures over at Bruce. "What should we name the baby boy?"

Barry glances over. "Uuhh, Finneas?" He then does a double take. "Wait, what the hell?" He immediately drops into a crouch in front of Bruce, a grin on his face as he coos at the baby. "Hey there little guy!"

Barry holds out his hands and Bruce reluctantly hands the baby over.

"He's way too cute to be your baby," Barry teases Hal before booping the baby's nose. "Am I the god father?"

Hal spares a glance at Bruce before saying, "Of course!"

Bruce didn't have any complaints anyways.

"I like the name Finneas too, Finn for short." This time Hal's look towards Bruce was seeking actual approval.

"No objections here," Bruce finally decides on.

He notices the way Barry's eyes dart between them, realization suddenly dawning on his face. "Hold up! Hal, you and Bats are a thing?"

"No!"

That stung a little.

"Well, I mean," Hal runs a hand through his hair, pointedly not looking at Bruce as he seems to reconsider. "Kinda. I don't know. Either way, yes, he's the other parent."

Barry hums thoughtfully, looking down at the baby. "So... who's last name is little Finn here gonna take?"

Hal and Bruce stare at each other.

"I carried him for nine months."

"Finneas Wayne sounds better."

(Art of Finneas!)

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 11. Evan “Buck” Buckley

A/N: my man, my man, my man!! Hopefully we get to see you soon and I can actually get the nerve to finish season six—I only have maybe 4 episodes left? Then I’ll dive into 9-1-1 lone star while we wait. Regardless I thought this would be funny and a little creepy to write so here we are! Enjoy 😉

Synopsis: Buck loves the new house you live in together and although you’re not crazy about it…you decide to pull a prank on your boyfriend to liven up the place that perhaps leads to you opening doors for a uninvited guest?

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & HERE & I’m using: A buys a crappy sound machine and plants it in the house. While it plays ghost noises and spooky sounds, A hopes they can convince B that the place is haunted. + “Come on, if there was ever a time for me to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

*GIF BELONGS TO: @911edit

<- read my previous anthology prompt here.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

“BABE!” Buck yelled into your ear after pulling the headphone away.

You flinch as you stand up straight from the kitchen island and away from your overnight oats, “Yes?” You press with raised brows.

Buck waves his hands around, “you don’t hear that?”

“Hear what?” You question, pausing the podcast and resting your headphones to lay around your neck, “I didn’t even know you were home.”

Buck immediately frowns, “don’t tell me that. That means anybody could be hiding in here and you wouldn’t even know because of those stupid things.”

“You bought them for me.”

“Yeah to use at the gym and keep those meathead douchebags away while I’m not around.” Buck explained which made you smirk with a roll of your eyes.

“Listen,” Buck said again as you moved around the modern kitchen (that you hated) to place the now empty bowl and spoon into the sink.

Placing a hand on your hip you glance around the new open floor plan home that you and Buck moved into together. The modern contemporary home was such a contrast from the outside to the inside with its exterior being too boxy for your liking but you enjoyed the black exterior and the courtyard and pool. The inside was much lighter, from white to cream walls, along with the high ceilings which made the home feel bigger and instantly sold Buck who believed this would be your forever home.

You on the other hand were not convinced but nobody could ever say you weren’t open to trying new experiences. It’s only been four months settling in and there were still some things you wanted to change like: mainly the wall colors but Buck was convinced furniture and decor could replace that urge.

Sighing you say, “I don’t hear anything Ev,” you tap the sink on, “maybe you should lay down? Was it a rough day?”

“No, it was a breeze.” Buck fanned his hand along before resting them both flat against the White Island counter, “…maybe it’s a bird or something?”

“Well what exactly did it sound like?”

“Like scratching. Kinda like Pearla when she tries to sneak into our room at night,” Buck answers before glancing around, “matter of fact, where is she?”

“At the groomers. She won’t be ready until after four,” you inform Buck of the whereabouts of your old English sheepdog.

Buck dips his head, looking at his watch, “it’s 3:42.”

“Shoot! time does really get away from me,” you widen your eyes as you quickly finish washing the dishes before spinning around to shove it into the dishwasher.

Buck nods his head, “I’ll drive.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs his shoulders, “it’s a nice crisp day and…I don’t want you having any accidents considering your hearing isn’t the best right now.” He playfully lifts the headphones from your neck to place down while you roll your eyes again.

You lean towards him smug, “ah, I see what this is…you’re scared to stay here by yourself because of this imaginary noise you’re hearing.”

“I’m not! And i don’t think it’s in my head.” Buck defended while you went over to the couch to shove your hoodie back over your gym attire.

“Uh huh,” you say as Buck scoffs ready to plead his case as you lock up the home behind you.

The next time Buck hears the noise is around 3am when you’re both tucked away at the back of the home in bed. It’s not a pleasant sound as his eyes snap open to the darkness of the room, the moaning and creaking almost sounds like a mixture of a whale and the cracking of a ship that meets the bottom of the ocean. Buck knows he should stop clicking on random things on YouTube before bed that leads him down a deep dive but this isn’t the first time he’s hearing that groaning sound.

It was brief before on his day off while you were at work and he was lounging on the couch watching some twisted documentary about Russ McKamey. Buck tried to brush it off as something that was on screen since it stopped when he paused the television but he couldn’t hear it while watching again. Was this truly in his head? He started to think but here he was— technically—the third time hearing the noise for much longer.

When he peaks over at you with your back to him, he lightly grips your shoulder and leans over to see that you’re still fast asleep and sits up in bed. By the edge of the bed, he spots Pearla on the floor with her fluffy ears perked up and Buck nods his head.

“You hear it too, girl? I know I’m not going crazy!” Buck whisper-yells to the dog who’s definitely more alert than you are.

Buck’s crawling out of bed with Pearla at his ankles, taking a deep inhale he opens the bedroom door to peak down the left of the hallway towards the front of the new home and only sees darkness. Pausing for a moment he listens for the noise again but the home is eerily quiet.

Buck stands there for at least two minutes before he considers closing the door but the creaking starts up again, sending Pearla flying out of the room barking as she tries to locate the noise first.

“Pearla!” Buck yells for the dog who disappears down the hallway and out of sight.

He blows a whistle with his fingers to get her attention, stepping into the hallway now but Pearla is nowhere to be seen. When he glances over his shoulder back in your direction, you’re still in fact sound asleep. Usually you’re the light sleeper out of the pair but somehow in this early morning, you’re having a grand time in dreamland.

Reaching for the doorknob, Buck slowly pulls the door closed with a soft click and begins taking the path to the main areas of the home. Pass the three bedrooms and the half bath on the left, Buck scans the dining room, kitchen, and living room to find it all empty. Confusion is written all over Buck’s face as he stands in the center of the home, hands on his hips as he’s searching but…for what?

The groaning picks up again just as a touch goes to his hips. Buck yelps, whipping around to face you who’s actually holding their composure. Buck holds onto his chest ready to let out a exhale but the look you cast behind your shoulder then back to meet Buck’s island water eyes you say, “the house is haunted.”

“What?” Buck let’s out a full exhale, trying to calm his heart rate.

You swallow, hands still holding onto Buck’s hips, “I hear it too.”

He tightens his jaw, ears picking up on the noise but now it’s the loudest it’s ever been, making you grip your very sensitive ears.

“Wait here,” Buck suggests, hands flexing as he picks up a fire poker that was left leaning against the industrial bookcase from his old apartment, “it sounds like it’s coming from the laundry room.”

You huff, feet slapping against the floor as you latch right onto the back of his shirt, “hell no! You’re not leaving me behind in this sketchy house.”

“Ohhh,” Buck sing songs, “now it’s sketchy but when I said it’s been weird lately you tell me I need a nap.”

You hiss, “be quiet, we’re supposed to be stealthy when sneaking up on a ghost.”

“I wasn’t aware that you had experience with the paranormal.” Buck looks back at you with a frown before slowly leading the way back towards the bedrooms.

“I’ve seen ghost whisperer you know?”

“…am i supposed to know what that is?”

“It’s a show Maddie and I are currently binge watching, now ssh!” Your attempt to silence the man was met but Buck used this silence to steady his heartbeat.

If this house was truly haunted then it was going to be hard to explain this to the insurance company when he’s done tearing up the place.

And we all know Buck’s not afraid of some action. His arm goes out to shield you as you both slide up against the wall opposite of the door that leads into the small laundry room. Buck couldn’t hear Pearla’s barking anymore and she did go in the opposite direction so he hoped whatever this is, didn’t harm your beloved dog.

“On my count,” Buck signals peering at you shortly to make sure you understood where he was going with this, “three…two…”

Of course he didn’t say “one” as he pushed the door back, revealing the very normal looking laundry room. Everything appeared in tack as Buck stepped into the room, hand reaching out to shove some clothes on the rack aside and then checking the cabinets above the washer and dryer.

“Huh,” Buck hummed before pulling the appliances open to find them both empty, “nothing.”

When he turns to face you, you’re hugging yourself but your brows are still furrowed in disbelief. He reaches to flick the light off and steps towards you to exit the room but a screeching noise picks up yet again. Instead of it sounding like it’s in the laundry room, it’s appears as if it’s coming from back towards the front of the home.

“No freaking way!” Buck yells, bringing the fire poker up like a bat as he runs down the hallway.

You scream at his back, “stop running towards danger you idiot!”

Buck ignores you, following the sound right to the pantry door, which is closed shut. He wastes no time, pulling the door back to reveal a gray and white Pearla fleeing from the room with a whine. Buck almost recoils at how loud the sound is coming from the pantry but steps in anyway, looking around the spacious storage room until the door shuts right behind him.

He tries the knob but to no avail, he turns back to the dark room, dropping down into a push up motion to check underneath the shelves. The thirty year old was just waiting to see something further unusual but got back to his feet just to be shoved towards the shelves.

Buck steadies his hands out in front of himself, catching himself against the shelves but not without the goods crashing onto the floor. He spins back around as the cracking noise picks up, almost making his teeth ache at the sound but that doesn’t stop him from swinging the fire poker wildly in the air. He’s not sure when the poker breaks one of the shelves but he spots a flash of red way at the top behind a acrylic container.

Panting Buck begins latching and crawling up on the shelves and swipes a hand across the top shelf, knocking the contents onto the floor to spot some sort of machine that suddenly shoots a weak steam of fog his way, followed by the creaking sound. Buck presses on top of it which sends out that screeching sound that makes Buck slip at the upsetting noise.

He’s shouting your name once he aims his footing right, landing back on it but not without the machine slipping right towards his face and knocking Buck off balance.

“I’m just glad it’s not broken,” you say for what felt like the thirteenth time as you hold the door open; ten am later that morning, leading your boyfriend back into your shared home that Buck secretly didn’t want to come back to.

The bandage on his bruised and cut up nose was prominent but Buck still sported a small smile on his face. “See what happens when you try to prank me. Now you have to tell everyone that I did in fact fight a ghost.”

The pantry door was jammed by the time you got to Buck, hearing him calling your name and Pearla barking for your attention. It wasn’t something it commonly did but you just deemed it as your anxiety getting the best of you, struggling to get it open. You were in on a bet with Chimney and Hen since Eddie (surprisingly) and Bobby didn’t want to participate—that you could convince Buck that your new home was haunted.

However you weren’t expecting for him to go investigating and get smacked in the face with the crap ghost machine you purchased off eBay. You were just happy that you weren’t the cause of Buck almost breaking his nose (you didn’t intend for the machine to slide off the shelf) but everything else you’ll take responsibility for.

“Sit,” you ordered Buck by his arms who laughed at you going into your nurturing role, “you know they’ll never believe that right?”

Buck kicks his feet up along the couch with a sigh, “but it could be a plot twist x2 with there actually being some haunted vibes going on. I mean…you did set me up.”

You pout as stood in the kitchen, “it was supposed to be all in good fun but then you had to go Rambo—being Buck. Did I mention how sorry I am?”

Buck laughs, “it’s just a scratch,” as Pearla jumps up beside him to rest her head in his lap, “it’ll heal and I can take a joke but just know…you did start a prank war for the rest of this fall season. You have no idea what you just unleashed.”

You didn’t like how Buck was rubbing his hands together in wicked joy but you’ll learn to deal with it.

“Yeah that’s what Maddie said,” you mumbled as you pulled open the fridge, “so before you come up with those ideas…I can make you your favorite breakfast.”

Buck grins, “that’ll be nice but I’d prefer a cuddle first.”

“Is your head hurting?”

Buck lolls his head, “I told you babe, I feel fine. Now get over here.”

You make a cross motion as you cautiously step over to Buck who shakes his head at you with a grin. Once you’re close enough, he reaches for your sweatshirt to yank you to his other side since Pearla made her claim on his left.

“Now that I know I’m not going crazy anymore, I can really enjoy this house with my two favorite people.” Buck curls a arm around you and rests the other along the back of the couch after patting Pearla’s head.

Resting your head against Buck’s chest you sink into the comfort each other. However that doesn’t last long with the sound of glass shattering from the mirror that once hung on the wall above the wooden chest that contained the record player on top of it.

The silence is almost deafening now as the both of you watch the pieces of the mirror decorate the floor.

Buck says, “Come on, if there was ever a time to be superstitious it’s definitely now.”

You knew a broken mirror was not a good sign and Buck started to feel like it wasn’t really all in his head as the flashes of what happened earlier this morning played back in his head. It couldn’t just be the trash machine you bought whenever and Buck really wasn’t that clumsy to trip over his feet so what gives?

Spookiness can be fun but Buck could always sense when things didn’t exactly feel right anymore? He believed in the full moon, mercury in retrograde and he strongly believed in when things weren’t just a good scare.

“So you agree, we should go house hunting?”

Again? Buck hated the process when he was on his own but with you it felt nice, like there was a definite future to look forward to.

“Yeah,” Buck states, “I think I’m done ghost hunting for awhile.”

“Hell yeah you are.” You respond, keeping your eyes towards the area just in case you saw something else that didn’t sit right with you; while reaching for your phone.

The both of you didn’t bother to debate over where you would be escaping to for the night as you searched your contacts for your realtor and fast.

꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎꩜⌖ㄨ࿔⚡︎ ꩜

Continue with my fall anthology prompts here.

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

“And here we are! Mister Gadling if I may introduce you to the owner of this estate, Lord Morpheus Endelas?'' The portrait of a severe looking man hangs at the top of the staircase, with an ornate golden frame. It is the only thing occupying that wall. 

It looks lonely. 

“Lord Morpheus? So, if he is the owner of this estate, why is his sister the one rushing to sell it? Where is he?” Hob asks, confused.  

“Nobody really knows. He was quite the renowned painter at the time but went missing at the peak of his career months after his only son died in a tragic accident,” Mister Edwards explains. 

Hob’s heart clenches in sympathy, as if to lose one’s child seems horrible enough, but to be expected to carry on after such a loss seems unthinkable to him.

“Hold on, missing? Missing implies that he is still out there! Doesn't he get a say in what happens to his state? He could come back and rightfully unleash his wrath upon us for going through with this! Sir, you have to understand that if I am to take up this job offer I need to know I’m not risking my entire career and reputation over it.”

He feels perplexed “Wasn't anyone else concerned about this? How is picking apart a missing man’s home and selling all his worldly possessions to the highest bidder even considered acceptable? What was the Endelas family even thinking? The man lost his only child, surely he just needed some time away?” It didn't seem unreasonable to Hob. 

He didn’t like it. Something about this felt wrong.

“It is believed even by his own remaining family, that Lord Endelas killed himself. Saying he is missing is the polite way to not address the fact that no body was ever found! Even before his son’s death he was infamous for his melancholic moods and tendencies towards neglecting himself to the point of damaging his own health significantly. So I’m hardly asking you to do anything immoral here! You are a good man Mister Gadling, and if the thought of taking this job distresses you so much I will accept that and find someone else to do it, but Lady Endelas wants this to be done sooner rather than later and I think you are the best choice for it.”

Hob turns his attention back to the portrait and contemplates for a moment.

He truly did look lonely up there.

“I will give you my answer tomorrow morning, Mister Edwards,” he concludes. 

“That’s all I ask for Mister Gadling, for you to consider it. Thank you.” Edwards inclines his head and promptly turns around, heading back downstairs.

Hob looks helplessly at the portrait of Lord Morpheus, already knowing he will take the job come morning. 

Damn him and his bleeding heart.

---------------------------------------

Ta-dah! illustration that's part of my gothic romance dreamling AU for @dreamlingnation spooky event !! the prompt that inspired this was "cursed painting" the comic pages for the ficlet above are already in the works so stay tuned for that and more!

special thanks to @academicblorbo for helping me edit this, you are the best friend!

[liesforaliving]

Bobbi didn't dream about much, because lately she tried to stay up until she was absolutely exhausted, so she could only hope that she didn't dream. 

Lately they weren't dreams, so much as nightmares, and she hated that even more. Today's seemed extra twisted, and she hadn't expected that at all. Was the spooky season getting to her? 

Twitching in her sleep, she was off in her dreamland… 

Ward was vaguely there, more like a floating head, her thoughts swirling through that and adding in the panicked yelling from Hunter. Today the needles that had been under her nails were scratching against the glass on the door, and she squirmed at the unpleasant sound. 

Normally something like that wouldn't wake her, but it did, and she shot up, looking around as she became slightly more coherent, and realized that noise was coming from elsewhere. 

What the hell was going on?

[mercifulmemories]

Gui should have been used to the subways by now. The schedule still seemed to elude him. This particular station had a lack of upkeep. That made him wonder if they were letting it get decrepit so that they could close it down, and have the justification to build one elsewhere. But that logic didn't make sense, did it? 

Then again, politics never made sense.

[katesgotabow]

Walking home from the subway line wasn’t always her favorite thing. Especially at night. Kate only did it because that was a hell of a lot faster than trying to maneuver her car though the city streets, with traffic. She zipped her jacket a little more, shifting her bag on her shoulder. The bag looked like a gym style duffle bag, and in essence it was, but it was her archery gear, so that she wouldn’t get in shit for having it on public transit.The now swollen black eye said it had been a rough night so far, and she’d be thankful to go home and crawl into bed. The trees on her street rustled and whistled with the wind that was blowing, and it seemed darker than usual, given the cloud overhead, but the full moon still shone brightly, adding a shadow on the sidewalk below her feet. The street light flickered, making her glanced up at it. Just pigeons. Thank god, cause she was already tired and sore enough that she didn’t want to deal with anything else tonight. Just sleep.

Well… hopefully.

That was always hard to tell if it was going to come quickly.  But she was pretty sure if she just took a couple ibuprofen and iced her face for a bit, sleep would come. She just hoped it was sooner rather than later, and she didn’t get interrupted by someone else causing more trouble. Her street was usually pretty quiet this time of night… or was it morning? Shit, she didn’t even know. Digging her phone out, she saw the time and sighed. Steve would likely be by in like 4 hours. That would be more sleep than she’d gotten before, so she really did hope it came fast this time.

Only time would tell.

[devilstherapist]

Linda didn’t believe in ghosts, but after her experiences with angels and celestial beings, it honestly wasn’t out of the realm of reality, she supposed. She was sprawled out on the couch at Lucifer’s after maybe a couple too many drinks. Could anyone really blame her for it though? In her half awake state, she almost dozed off when she heard the quiet tones from the piano which made her turn her head a little to see if anyone was at the piano. “Lucifer, I’m trying to sleep.” she mumbled, only to see that no one was standing there…

[radioactivedotcom]

SpookGames is recruiting!

If you’re an aspiring artist dreaming of making your own character designs for video games, you’ve undoubtedly heard of our company before. We’ve made classics such as Spooktacular Extravaganza and Once Upon a Spook. Who hasn’t spent hours in those games?! This is the opportunity of a lifetime to get your foot in the door of the gaming industry!

To apply, please fill up the form linked above and attach your portfolio.

Now, we don’t want your old and dusty art. No, no, no. Since we’re a game company, we’ve decided to make it a little more fun than that. Each answer you give in the form should be your prompt to create a character! This way, we get to know your personality and your creative talent all in one fell swoop! (And we will not be arbitrarily judging your answers as ways to extrapolate how this would translate in the workplace and throw away your application should we dislike said answers. Though we welcome essay-andying your answers to explain why it should get you the job.)

As you've surely noticed, there are 31 questions to fill out. You do not need to create a character for all of them (but you certainly can if you wish to!). We ask for a minimum of three designs to whichever prompts inspire you most.

Having doubts about applying? There are many advantages to working at SG! Such as:

Meager pay below industry standard; unpaid overtime; no sick leave; no vacation for the first 3 years; a boss who only cares about margin profits; mandatory team-building exercices every weekend; no promotion for the first 20 years; no private life allowed; SG will be your new family so make sure to ditch the old one!

Apply now, what are you waiting for! You have from now until October 31st to send in your application through either using the tag #spookapplication OR tagging us @radioactivedotcom !

Psst, by the way, don’t worry about about doing better than the other applicants. The CEO’s nephew is the one getting the job, he'll get a promotion after three months.

Yes, all this just for a CAS challenge! Listen, I wanted to have fun. You don’t have to roleplay in order to participate, you can just make your cute little simmies and hit post, no pressure whatsoever. But I certainly ain’t stopping you if you did want to roleplay. winkwink.

ALL PROMPTS UNDER THE CUT

 What is the halloween costume you loved wearing the most?

 What is your favorite horror movie?

 In your humble opinion, which is the best magical creature™?

 Choose... Glitter or blood?

 What is the kind of villain you aspire to be?

 Tell us of the best horror character archetype!

 If YOU were a horror character, what archetype would you be?

 Are you... cute spooky or scary spooky?

 The fantasy ennemies-to-lovers you can’t get enough of is...?

The ONLY post-apocalypse setting should be?

What was the monster under your bed?

How would you personify your zodiac sign?

Who are you in an alternate universe?

Who's the stranger you’d flirt with in a fantasy setting?

What is your go-to DnD character?

If you were an alien... what kind would you be?

What is the best year to time-travel? (past or future)

What is a monster you’d adopt in a heartbeat?

Make disney princess you'd have loved as a kid!

Or a disney prince you'd love to hate.

If you were to have a sidekick, who would they be?

Who would you want haunting you?

Choose... Science or magic?

What is your favorite halloween-themed emoji?

Are you more of... An evil witch or a benevolent healer?

What is your go-to song for halloween?

Choose... Earth, wind, fire or water?

Would you more... Growl or Purr?

What's a creature you’d have as your BFF?

What is a futuristic trend you would love?

What is the best candy? Wrong answers land you in jail.

+ dl the .word application form if you'd like!