#craveyardshift

“ fuck- FUCK! i’m coming, stop banging on my DOOR. ” it’s well past midnight, moonlight beaming down through her apartment windows. she should’ve been asleep — or at least she had been up until the ruckus at her front door disturbed her. there’s only one person she knew would be bothering her at this hour. but she had to be prepared, pistol conveniently tucked behind her as she approached her door in her pajamas. of course its frank. stevie can see him through the peep hole easily. part of her wants to make him stay outside and have him apologize to earn entry. shes not feeling that cruel, however.

🕊️ – a moodboard of our muses' relationship (leandra + samara)

When he first put on the mask, Matt thought he could rationalize it all away by telling himself he was doing it for the right reasons. Anger is effective when funneled into the right places, he'd thought, even tried to live by that creed. Then it's like the monster evolved, turned into something else entirely, and now he can't wish the genie back into the bottle. He'd never meant to get Claire involved in all this. If only I'd been faster, stronger, hadn't gotten left in that specific dumpster...maybe she could have stayed out of it, still had her normal job. Instead she gets people like me bleeding out on secret operating tables.

Fuck.

"plots please" prompt — @craveyardshift

but what if i did throw my whole roster at you Who said that? 🫢

Honestly, I can see connections with a lot of your characters, especially the women. Let's make it happen 🤝

CHERICE

ANITA — They're both erotic dancers, so for cliché sake, that gives an opening for interaction. Whether it's at the same club or different ones makes no difference to me. Admittedly, I don't have plot ideas for them, I just think they'd be neat together [btw anita's bio doesn't link properly for me on your carrd idk why????]

SAMARA — Luxury fragrance line? Say less. Cherice is a fan. But they also have a history with drugs that could be reason for why they know each other? Cherice is sober now, but she does still sell 'cause of gang activity, so I think she'd still go to meetings or have sponsors to keep her level. Plus, they come from completely opposite backgrounds! That's always fun to explore

OZ — I'm totally up for turning that charity event thing into a thread to see where that leads these two. What about you? 👀

TRIXI

MARIAH — Um, cyber security hackvitist and a cyber crime hacker? They'd be unstoppable together. Picture it. I think their moral codes align rather well too, doing what they do, though Trixi may take it a step farther into vengeful territory? Or maybe they both are like that; you tell me. Also Mariah seems more grounded than Trixi, which this lalaland bitch needs—I swear it's said affectionately

OTHERS

NOUSHA

BEATRICE — They're both eccentric HBICs in some type of science field. Beatrice with entomology [the bee element was cute and clever, I like]; Nousha with mortuary. I think they'd vibe well on that, but I also think it'd just be fascinating to pair them up and see what they do. Nousha likes stickin' her nose in other folks' business and exploring stuff she shouldn't, so why not

SHI

SALOME — I just think she's neat. 🥲 But also she surrounds herself by the living and dead and Shi is very much a dead attracted to life. I can see him getting attached and tryna make a friend outta her 'cause he's lonely. and she's pretty Please, he's desperate for companionship 😭

MOANA

DC/MARVEL CANONS — Talia al Ghul, Jessica Jones, Claire Temple... I meeeean, the first two can kinda write themselves, especially our assassins, but I also love Claire Temple and want her to meet Moana for Reasons not quite clear to me yet, but I have a need

MILO

SISSY — #JustSerialKillerThings

@craveyardshift sent in this life, nothing is accidental. / faris for annalise

Maybe Jin was a few too many drinks deep this time. He'd passed the point of flirtation and found himself falling into self pity and sadness. He leaned his forehead against the coffee table as the room spun in unpredictable loops around him. There was something sour in the back of his throat, but it wasn't bile.

He mumbled. He wrapped his arms around the back of his head, elbows sprawled out carelessly on either side of him. He was too drunk to cry, so instead he pouted to express his discontent.

"Sometimes the place you're trying to escape is the only place you fucking belong."

set the scene — @craveyardshift

     Is she nervous? She'll deny, if asked. Nobody can see her sweat, even if her stomach is a little queasy and her worries hammer a small tension headache between her finely plucked brows. What has she to worry about? Nothing too big, just being the host of a non-profit residential event for under privileged, low-income families around the county. It isn't as if her screwing up will reflect poorly on the need to build sustainable homes for countless lives that struggle with bills, putting food on the table, or a keeping steady jobs.

     Cherice is fine. She insists that she is one hundred percent okay.

     Reaching for a glass of wine, she tips it back slowly for a generous gulp. Her face scrunches mildly, confused, and she pulls back to look at the shimmery liquid in the glass flute. Cider, really? Then again, children are present—except it's not because of the children. Her non-alcoholic beverage has everything to do with the nine-year sober chip in her sleek, muted purple, Vivienne Westwood shoulder purse on the table.

     “This ridiculous. Get a hold'a ya'self, girl.” Mutterings to improve are the only pep talk she can afford right now. Her other attendants and assistants are busy doing their jobs with grace while she's at a table, trying not to hyperventilate.

     Inhaling a deep breath, Cherice shakes out her mane of coily ringlets and adjusts her deep iris-colored bodycon dress, palming down its ruched contours uselessly. The fabric is suppose to bunch into long, thin folds and yet she wishes she picks a flat surface pattern instead. Her fidgeting gets interrupted by someone shifting next to her. Cherice raises her head, hides being startled with a safe placating smile.

     “Oh, Mr. Lovelace!” she chirps, surprised.