#congrats on game murder

[vaguely-concerned]

are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid

[elizabeths-dumbassery]

I fucking love this game stop.

[murderandcoffee]

👁️👁️

congratulations, you have been assigned…

🌫 THE LONELY 🌫

and

⚰️ THE BURIED ⚰️

enjoy your new allegiance!

(send me a 👁--or 👁👁 if you want two!--and I’ll roll a d20 on my randomized chart and assign you a fear entity!)

[gas-stxtion-a]

Tagged by @modestmuses (yes you tagged my main but I decided to do it here for no real reason <3)

Ten fandoms, ten characters, ten tags

//I’m gonna approach this similarly to how Teddy did and avoid listing any characters that are current muses of mine! I have to prove I like media that isn’t Tales From the Gas Station. However, I’m probably still gonna list at least a couple of other relatively obscure horror/creepypastas I like, because you can’t stop me.

Noko (Biomutant) (ok listen, most of the NPCs in Biomutant mean nothing to me, but Noko means everything to me and there’s very little I wouldn’t do if she asked)

Evelyn McKinnon (Accounts From a Lonely Broadcast Station)

Quetzalcoatl (No Evil)

Rhys (Tales From the Borderlands)

The Arcanist (Flight Rising) (it counts okay <3 I love my apocalypse-causing academic)

Deet (The Dark Crystal)

707 (Mystic Messenger)

Julian Devorak (The Arcana)

Arthur Morgan (Red Dead Redemption)

Jim Jimenez (Our Flag Means Death)

And I genuinely don’t know if I have ten people to tag here ASDFJKL; Cons of only talking to the same few people </3 So I’ll just tag some folks that I think might have fun with this, with absolutely no pressure to any of y’all <3 (so, absolutely please feel free to ignore this haha!!)

@dnmoriarty @skitzo-kero @aaureus @albinismuncovered @smokes-and-bullets @genetic-gamble @dr-runs-with-scissors 

[faeriekit]

#attempted murder for the ask game! 🌱

"...So I'm dead now," Danny ends his story, face in his hands.

"You were dead before this," Sam points out. She takes a bite out of her perfectly carved celery sticks.

"I know, but now I'm dead dead," Danny groans, earning a pat on the back from Tucker. "Like. Dash pushed me off a bridge. And sure, it was an accident, but come on! There's no way I could survive that if I wasn't...me! I can't, like, reappear after that! I should have been a goner!"

"I mean, it was probably an accident," Tucker adds encouragingly, continuing the patting. It's well meant but not helpful in the slightest. Danny groans.

"Congrats on faking your death by accident," Sam says through her celery. She offers Danny a celery stick in commiseration. He eats it, but it tastes like nothing. "Have any big plans?"

"I dunno. Die?"

"You did that already," Tucker and Sam point out.

Danny puts his face in his hands. "I... Did he even report me? Did he even report that he probably killed me? Like...to anyone?"

Tucker pulls out his newest PDA, Pollyanna. A few taps of the stylus. Some scrolling "...Nah, dude. No news, no cops. Legally, you're still alive."

And they sit there, in Sam's room, in silence, wondering how one of their classmates managed to mostly get away with murder.

"...Think he'll cry if you show up to school tomorrow like nothing happened?" Sam mutters, more out of spite than anything.

Everyone looks at each other.

"...Ten bucks," Tucker says.

"No bet. I do the scary eyes and he probably pisses his pants," Danny snorts.

"It's a deal," Sam decides. "All in on making Dash have a mental breakdown?"

Hands go in. One, two, three— Danny and Tucker whoop as their three hands go up, the two high-fiving as Sam holds in her cackle.

"Jazz is going to kill us," Danny snickers, almost guilty.

"After Dash killed you? Please. If anything, Jazz might fetch the Jack O' Nine Tails and kill him first."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Birthday

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: It's your birthday

It's weird, you think, having Morsa with you on your birthday.

She's never been around for your birthday before. Things have always come up like last year when her plane got delayed and she had to sing you happy birthday through the phone while you sat in front of the cake with the Wolfsburg girls and Momma.

She made it up to you though with snacks and presents and big kisses and cuddles but you've never actually had Morsa at your birthday before, let alone your party.

You don't have friends your age but that doesn't matter because this year you have the Not-Wolfsburg girls at your house. They bring presents and party hats and lots and lots of unhealthy food that Momma is desperately trying to not let you see.

Morsa is running around like a chicken with its head on fire (you don't know what that means but Millie said it and you don't think she would lie to you). She's darting between the food table to you to the pile of presents and then back to you again.

Momma is running after her, muttering murderous words in Danish as she tries to move things around.

"Magda," She hisses as they both loop past you again," Stop adding more presents. Where did you even get these?!"

You're sitting on the floor, propped up on your knees as you play Connect Four with Guro and Jessie. You don't really understand the game but Jessie lets you put the counters where she tells you and that's enough for you.

Your pile of presents is sitting not too far away. You opened your presents from Mamma and Morsa this morning after Morsa let you drown your pancakes in syrup and spray a whole can of whipped cream over them.

It's gotten steadily bigger as everyone arrived for your birthday but Morsa keeps adding to it and you think it's annoying Momma a little bit.

"Yay!" You exclaim as you put the last counter in to get you and Jessie win. You throw your hands in the air as Jessie pulls you into a hug.

"Congrats, birthday girl!" Jessie says, cuddling you nice and tight.

You giggle before looking over her shoulder to Momma and Morsa arguing in hushed tones. Morsa's holding a party popper that Momma confiscates off her.

Morsa huffs in annoyance before peeling away to sit next to you and Jessie. You climb off Jessie's lap to crawl into Morsa's, who layers ticklish kisses all over your face.

It's still weird to have Morsa here on your birthday but it's a good weird. You like that she's giving you lots of affection. She never strays too far from you even when she lays out sugary snacks on the table.

She's got some little fairycakes on a plate that she hand feeds you as you sit in front of the tv watching Lady and the Tramp. It's a movie about puppies. You want a puppy when you're older but Momma and Morsa are still getting you settled in England so you don't think you'll get one for a long time.

"Morsa!" You giggle after she presses kisses onto your face after every bite.

"What?" She teases," I'm not doing anything!"

"Magda," Momma says as she approaches, crouching down to smile at you," You're going to ruin her appetite."

Morsa pouts. It's a bit of a weird expression on her face and it makes you laugh. "It's her birthday. She can eat whatever she wants."

You decide that you like Morsa being around on your birthday because she has good excuses like that. "Yeah, Momma," You say," It's my birthday!" You think for a moment and then gasp. "It's my birthday! Can I open my presents now?!"

Momma looks like she's going to refuse. Usually, you open her and Morsa's presents in the morning and then after dinner, you open presents from everyone else. It's not after dinner yet but a lot of the Not-Wolfsburg girls are yelling at Momma to let you open some of them.

Morsa's looking at her with big puppy dog eyes that she says you inherited from her and Momma sighs.

"Only a few," She says," Then we finish your movie, order dinner and then we open the rest."

"Thank you, Momma!" You bound to your feet and press a big kiss to her cheek before moving to your presents.

Millie crouches down next to you to help you open a few of them before Sam takes over. Momma says that sometimes Sam is like a big kid and you like that because she helps you rip open some of the wrapping paper with as much enthusiasm as you.

You get lots of new toys to play with and some new clothes too. You get some custom Not-Wolfsburg kits with almost everyone's number and name on which is okay and then a new Not-Wolfsburg scarf and hat that you like because it's only really the Not-Wolfsburg colours and the crest is very small so you can almost pretend that they're a normal hat and scarf.

You get some new footballs but your favourite present is the new Wolfsburg kit that Jessie got you. It's got your first name on the back with the number one and you cajole Morsa into helping you put it on then and there.

Momma laughs at the funny look on Morsa's face as she helps you change.

"Thank you, Jessie!" You cheer, barrelling into her arms and hugging her nice and tight.

"Oh, come on, Jessie!" Sam complains with a laugh," We're never going to get her to wear the Chelsea kit now!"

"It's her birthday," Jessie replies," She's allowed to wear what she wants."

"Yeah, Sam!" You stick your tongue out at her. "It's my birthday! I can wear what I want!" You sit down cross-legged on the floor and drag Sam's box closer to you.

She looks hopeful for a moment but you start pulling on the ribbon it was wrapped in and try to make a bracelet out of it, winding the ribbon around your wrist until it fit properly.

"Well," Momma laughs as she picks you up," What does this birthday girl want for dinner?"

You think for a moment before blurting out the name of your favourite fast food place (Millie and Sam took you for the first time without Momma's permission and you have been hooked ever since).

Momma makes a face and then you remind her that it's your birthday.

"Your usual, princesse?" Morsa asks, already loading the app to order.

"Yes, please!"

It takes a while for the food to get there because all of the Not-Wolfsburg girls order too but soon enough you're happily sitting on the sofa with your greasy food as the film plays on the tv.

Momma covers your eyes once you're done and you immediately know what's happening next. You wiggle impatiently until she uncovers you and everyone starts singing.

It's horribly off tune but you love it, eyes tracking Morsa as she walks in with the biggest cake you've ever seen with just the right number of candles for your age. It's obvious that Morsa didn't tell Momma how big it was because Momma looks shocked and a little bit annoyed at the size of it.

You love it though.

Having Morsa around for your birthday is the very best.

You blow out the candles and you think someone takes a picture of Momma and Morsa kissing your cheeks at the same time.

[ellecdc]

hello elle! first of all, congrats on 4k!! i found your blog through the 2k picnic, and it's been my fav ever since :) i'm here for drinks, ma'am! james with the "who did this to you" trope?? reader comes in battered after a fight or something, and james just does a 180 from his usual sweethert persona and the marauders are like o_o wtf. please and thank you!

omg isn't that so fun! you found me during my last celebration! well it's a full circle moment and I'm so happy to have you here with me <3

no one else in the Gryffindor common room spared you a second glance as you stepped through the portrait hole, focused on the heated game of exploding snap happening between James and Marlene

except right before James is about to place his card, he drops his entire hand and makes for you - every starts moaning and groaning because they think it's just James Lover Boy Potter's usual theatrics, but then they hear it

"what the fuck happened!?" He demands; a tone only heard once or twice during a quidditch match against slytherin from the usual sunny boy

they don't hear your murmured response, but they do hear James let out a "it doesn't sodding look like nothing? Oi! Where do you think you're going?"

they turn to see you trying to head up towards the dorm rooms only for James to catch you by your wrist - his gaze down right murderous but his touch barely there as your wrist hangs loosely in his grasp

"Who did this?" - "I'm fine, Jamie." - "I didn't ask if you were fine, I asked who did this?" - "he's worse off than I am, I swear it." - "okay, he, that narrows it down some. how about a name?"

"James, please." You beg, and some of his severity falters when he hears a breathy sound that borders a sob escape your lips.

"Angel, I-" - "please."

James surveys your form for a bit before nodding curtly at you. "I will let this go for now, but you have to come with me to my dorm."

You agree, and he fixes you up with some healing balms and gentle touches

"please don't be mad at me." you whisper suddenly, causing James' eyes to fly up to yours. - "I'm not mad at you, angel. I'm upset, I'm definitely angry, but not at you."

that seemed to be enough for you for now, and James knows better than to push the issue right now

but by the time you've fallen asleep on his chest and the boys come back into the dorm, they've managed to find out who you got into a fight with and they have their most devious prank set for the very next day

[channelinglament]

When you hadn't logged in for a few days

Ft. Diasomnia (💀)

Summary: Basically you hadn't logged in twst for a while now (could be 2 days or more) for whatever reason. But sadly you didn't know, that your game is sentient.

Tw: yandere, bad grammar, death, murder, religious themes.

🐀 (it's me, the anon-) @writingforatwistedworld

Lilia

Plz forgive this world that is full of sinners-

Fr prays and slays (people)

Alright, let's begin on how it happened:

Lilia was as always waiting for your return. He made himself look presentable, and stayed nearby ramshackle to greet you when you log in (aka when you get weekly stuff like gems and etc)

You didn't come back that day, sadly.

So what does our dear fae do?

Pray. A lot.

He is afraid that he or someone has somehow wronged you.

We're you busy?

Were they not praying hard enough?

Did he need to kill someone-?

And like that, he tried to sleep.

The same was on second day.

But when the third day (afternoon actually) comes, oh he is going insane.

This world is so full of sin! It is filled with sinners to the brim isn't it? That's why you aren't coming back, he's sure of it!

So, the massacre started. You can't tell me otherwise. He prays that you come back, while he slays those, he deems sinners.

If it's for you, he's ready to starts/wage a war again.

Malleus

Congrats, it's the end of the world!

Trust me, if you logged in right at that moment, you would have the longest log in in your history.

Unlike Lilia, he immediately panicked. While you weren't around, the weather was terrible.

A few people probably died because of the thunder

He prays, and prays hard.

On the second day he tries to use his magic to see what you're doing (your camera)

If you're playing another game then he immediately destroys(burns) the world.

If you're busy, tries to wait.

If talking to someone, the first option happens aswell

On third day it's the end of the world. Literally.

Unless you decide to log in, at that exact moment, say bye-bye to everyone alive except a few faes and maybe people.

Silver

Understands that you may be busy.

But still prays nonetheless. (He was raised by Lilia, a cute lunatic after all)

Honestly is afraid that someone might've hurt you. What if you're in danger and he doesn't know about it??

He's supposed to be your knight in shining armor, protect you with his life. What if you're in danger rn and he cannot do anything about it???! (Not like could've helped even if you were, he's in game. But he could've told Malleus or Lilia, then you'd be in game sooner than expected)

Similarily to Lilia, starts massacring people calling them sinners.

But I feel like it's at the end of 2nd day? Stealthily btw

He was sleeping, then heard noises. People were talking about you and how they thought you abandoned them.

He was angry and uhh

Made ketchup for Lilia to cook.

Even if you did abandon them, it's not your fault! But he's sure you didn't, they probably just needed to get rid of sinners that have wronged you and made you upset!

Sebek

Screams

Shocked

Prays

And then

Starts giving you offerings.

Since the day 1

He definitely needs to try harder! Everyone needs!

The reason you're not here is because they're not praying hard enough! They're not offering you what you would like! Of course you won't come back if they won't!

Literally kills everyone left and right.

And offers them to you.

Negative two out of ten, would not recommend.

Fr, he doesn't think that it could be 'cuz you're busy. Probably you're offended that they haven't devoted themselves to you completely.

He wishes that everyone would be like them, on valley of thorns. But sadly, some see you as an equal or just an all knowing entity. Or even worse, but he doesn't talk about Shaftlands. At least some nations are good.

But he still thinks they're wrong in thinking you can have flaws too.

It's their fault for you leaving them!

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

It's quite important to me that Jason and Bruce's conflict is not a misunderstanding.

I truly believe that if each of them had perfect omniscient knowledge of every detail of what happened surrounding Jason's death, not only would they still have conflict, but they would still have the SAME conflict. Neither the question nor the answer of Under the Red Hood's climax would change.

Sheila's betrayal is often known about in canon (frankly there is no way anyone but Jason should know; it is deeply unclear to me why comics allow others to be aware of this) and it does nothing to change anything.

Bruce's one off attempt to kill the Joker at most changes a few lines during Jason's plea to let him kill him ("Please! I know you wanted to, I know you tried to once, what changed? Did you forget about me? Did you stop caring? Did you fucking well forgive?! You for whom vengeance is your only life?")

Learning about the people Jason saved doesn't do much to assuage Bruce's horror at what Jason has become ("Each life is precious, unique, irreplaceable. It does not absolve him.")

Learning exactly what was done to mourn him modifies the depth and force of Jason's fury some ("You buried and destroyed all trace of me, the actual person, didn't even try to tell Dick, and then blamed my death on my own irresponsibility?!") But otherwise does very little.

Talia's involvement being revealed does nothing, because frankly she didn't do much of anything except stall this confrontation and give him a knife. It's a really cool knife, granted, but it sure as fuck didn't convince Jason this needed to happen!

The exact details of Tim's induction into the role have the largest effect - on an issue that is utterly tertiary to his main conflict with Bruce ("Oh wow, cool, great, the new kid you got to emotionally support you actually volunteered, and has parents so his entire well-being doesn't hinge on your approval. Congrats on approaching the bare fucking minimum! Now, wouldn't you agree that you have a duty to protect him by taking care of the murderer who killed me?! Instead of fucking demanding that he be good enough not to get killed?!")

I have a whole damn post on the can of worms Jason understanding the events of War Games would open! ("YOU LET ANOTHER ONE OF US DIE WHILE I WAS GONE?!?")

I am convinced that the only ways in which their conflict becomes less intense is through a misunderstanding.

And I like it that way. I'm really, really glad it's not a misunderstanding, and that it can't be resolved through better communication. Their issues are real and meaningful and cannot be swept away without one actually conceding to the other's demands.

[ot3]

hey, i only just recently finished bridge to turnabout (the final case of the aa trilogy) and wanted to go back and see your thoughts on godot since personally i have very mixed feelings on him altogether. you can just reply with a link to a post where youve already explained how you feel in more detail (i remember seeing a post where you have but tumblr search function is ass so i cant find the one i was thinking about) or use this as an opportunity to bitch about him if youd like. but i generally think that you have a knack for putting opinions i already have into words perfectly and wanted to revisit ones on him specifically with a new set of eyes now that i finally understand the context behind everything. peace and love ✌🏽

ohhhhh man godot. a lot to unpack there. I feel like for the most part whatever thoughts i've posted about godot have been kind of piecemeal so ill try and put it into something more coherent and comprehensive here. well first of all congrats on finishing the trilogy i hope you enjoyed it!!! bridge to the turnabout is SUCH an excellent case on almost every level but. the writing centered around godot really spoils it and stops it from living up to it's full potential....

i was warned i wasnt going to like godot going in so i was really surprised that up until bttt, i actually did end up liking him! i thought he was hysterical! and i still do. but i really can't Like him because of what the writing centered around him does to the integrity of aa3's arc. I don't like what it does to mia's place in the narrative and I think it undercuts the emotional realism that makes ace attorney's slapstick ass nonsense murders manage to land right. i guess ill address each one of those points on their own?

I don't like what godot's writing does to mia's place in the narrative!

Mia's death is something that's completely within her own agency; it is her own phone call with her own sister, talking about evidence for the case she herself has spent years building, that gets her killed. None of this has anything to do with phoenix. She is no strings attached presented as his mentor figure and I think this dynamic is what prevents Mia's death from feeling like fridging despite it technically being something that has to happen to allow phoenix to take center stage in the upcoming events of the game.

then godot comes in and the narrative he imposes on her death feels like it retroactively turns it into Fridging! I mean 'is this character death the Fridging Trope or the Death of the Mentor Trope' is kind of milquetoast tvropes brained level media critique here but im really using these concepts as a shorthand for the level of agency a female character is allowed to have in her own death, and the degree to which that death is used as a tool for men's emotional development. but anyway the point being that the fact that godot views mia death as phoenix's responsibility is an inherently misogynistic bit of character writing. their power dynamic is such that mia was the one responsible for phoenix's wellbeing if anything, as his boss, his senior, and his mentor; the only reason godot presumes phoenix to be responsible for mia's death is because he a man who was in proximity to her! which fucking suuuucks.

Something I don't see talked about a lot is that godot also has beef with phoenix for being dahlia's stooge, which i think is a MUCH more interesting angle for his character. but that's presented as a separate thing from his feelings about mia's death

Godot: …… I never liked you. Six years ago… …you helped the woman who put me to sleep by hiding her bottle of poison. And then… While I was sleeping… …you let Mia die. But you didn't care. You just kept living your pathetic, happy-go-lucky life. You even had the nerve to follow in her footsteps as a lawyer. I could never forgive you. That's what I thought.

now to be clear i don't think the narrative frames his blaming phoenix as something we're supposed to agree with. Godot has his whole confession at the end where he admits he views himself as responsible for failing to protect her. but it does basically mean that her death stops being something that was About herself and the choices she made and her relationship to her family, and instead becomes About the effect it had on the men in her life. which i really don't like!

NUMBER TWO. I think godot's writing lessens my ability to get emotionally involved in this case

Even within ace attorney's fucking moon logic bridge to the turnabout pushes my suspension of disbelief past its breaking point. I don't care about the pendulum horseshit. I don't care about the ghost possession. I'll accept all of that. What I can't accept is: why does no one EXCEPT godot himself seem to care that this entire murder could have been avoided if maya at any point been warned about it? Misty and Iris just as guilty of this as godot is, but the biggest difference between them and godot is that 1. misty has been a deadbeat for ages and is now just Dead. Her primary established character trait is not talking to her fucking kids. 2. Iris has been working as dahlias accomplice for her entire life and so the idea that she would willingly conceal this has much more legitimacy to me.

We are supposed to accept and sympathize with the idea that protecting maya Actually Was Something He Did. I say were are expected to accept and sympathize with that because phoenix and maya sure do! I guess you could interpret this as them trying to give some comfort to a man that is clearly at the end of his rope and about to be sent to prison.

Phoenix: Y-You're wrong! You put your life on the line to save Maya! Godot: Was it really for Maya's sake...? Even I'm not really sure. [cut some lines for brevity] Godot: You were the one who made me realize my folly. You never ran away from Mia's death. Instead, you picked up where she left off, as a true defender of the people. In that one moment... I understood everything! Phoenix: Mr. Godot... Godot: I think you already know this, but if you don't... My name is... Diego Armando. Maya: M-Mr. Armando! I believe in you! I know you were trying to save me!

then, later on:

Phoenix: (So I guess it's all over... The way everything ended... Was justice really served...? The man who risked his life to save Maya is being sent to prison by my own hand...) Mia: Of course justice was served. Phoenix: M-Mia! Mia: ...I'm proud of you, Phoenix. Your defense was... truly brilliant. Phoenix: B-But I couldn't save Mr. Armando! The man who cared so deeply for you... Mia: You're wrong, Phoenix. You did save Diego. You saved him in the only way possible.

I guess technically godot did risk his life to save maya. and I do like the conclusion that basically being laid bare and brought to accountability like that is what godot needed to 'save' him. but i'm just not sure why the fact that maya was only in danger in the first place due to godot's choices doesn't factor into how phoenix feels about him 'saving' her. I just don't buy it!!!

It lacks the emotional weight that other instances of Avoidable Tragedy in the series have had. Ace attorney is at its best when the relatively grounded emotions are contrasted by the zany impossible crime antics. But i think BTTT is an instance where the emotional realism isnt taken far enough to distract me from the convoluted nature of the actual events that have just taken place. Rather than being so in touch with the characters during this case that i can tap into the Tragedy aspect of 'this didnt need to happen like it did' i just find myself frustrated by the fact that it didn't need to happen like it did. It kind of chafes the whole case for me and at the end I didn't feel any sort of cathartic victory regarding the events that had just transpired. but that was clearly the feeling they were going for

i did enjoy godots for the most part, but i think you'd need to make some serious overhauls to the storyline to have this specific case reach its full potential. it's a good case! but as the end to the entire trilogy i just can't help but resent the fact that it has the clumsiest writing out of any of the individual games' finales. and that everything i disliked about it is attributed to the actions godot took and the reactions other characters had to that.

[ohbo-ohno]

I love your work!! Congrats on 1k followers- your fics are amazing💙💙 May I request ‘country house’ and ‘something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.’ ? Maybe with Price x reader please? (-:

1k game here - no more please!

i have an unreasonably difficult time thinking of a "something's off" for these prompts. but we write on nonetheless!

1.1k of price being your young daughter's "imaginary" friend. fair warning, this one doesn't have an actual price appearance, it's mostly just vibes. (cw for implied stalking/haunting, no smut!)

The big country house is your dream home.

It had come when you most needed it - your sister had finally gotten tired of letting you and your five year old couch surf and kicked you out with no warning, leaving you with only your car to live in and no prospects.

You'd been driving through a tiny town, only even heard about the house because of a kind waitress who took pity on you when you told her about your situation. She introduced you to her younger sister, a local realtor who'd recently marked down a nice family home to practically nothing because she couldn't get it to sell.

It had seemed too good to be true, honestly. The house is a grand thing - two stories, a wraparound porch, relatively new appliances. The price you paid - you negotiated down - was practically pennies.

But you don't have the privilege of questioning your blessings with a little one relying on you. So you tell yourself that this is just good karma, and you get yourself moved into the home as quickly as possible.

It's weeks later, from that same waitress, that you learn why the house was so cheap. Apparently a local man had been murdered there only a few months ago - a robbery gone wrong, if your source is to be believed, and an apparently very violent death for the poor man living there alone.

It certainly changes the way you feel in the house, knowing that something so horrible happened less than a year ago. The house still feels the same, but you look at it with the knowledge of who might've been there before.

You're... well, you're very lonely these days. You work long hours at home, holed up in your home office, responding to emails and sitting on calls all day. You only really leave to drop off your daughter and to pick her up, or if she wants to go somewhere in the city. If it were up to you, you'd never leave your new property.

And the house isn't small - you've never lived in a multiple story house, let alone one with no one else there. You can never fully shake the paranoia that someone else could be in the house with you, and you'd never know.

You remind yourself that you need to get a dog as soon as you can afford one, and try to wipe the nervousness from your mind.

When summer hits, you and your daughter spend most of your days at home. The house came with quite a bit of land, more than enough for a little five year old to amuse herself with on a nice summer day. You find that you enjoy sitting on the back porch with a cool drink and a book, keeping one eye on the story and another on your daughter while she plays with her dolls.

She doesn't have many friends. You'd worry, but she's always been a happy girl, and she doesn't seem to have any sort of social issues. You don't have the money to get her to a doctor, so you comfort yourself with the idea that she's just a shy child.

So you spend your summer, just the two of you. You spend an almost regrettable amount of time in your office with the door open so you can hear if something goes wrong, but you watch the small nest-egg grow in your bank account, and you tell yourself you'll make it up to your little girl by spoiling her later.

You only start to grow truly concerned about midway through the summer, when your daughter comes to you and tells you about an imaginary friend.

"John says we should play outside today," she says over breakfast one morning, casual as can be between mouthfuls of pancake.

"What's that, honey?" You ask, only half paying attention as you mix another batch.

"John wants to go outside. He's says it's a nice day. He doesn't like that you stay inside so much."

That makes you pause, turning to look over at your daughter. She's never known a John in her life. You have no idea where this is coming from.

"Who's John, sweetheart?"

"My friend," she replies, swinging her legs above the floor, happy as can be. "He was here first. We play together when you're workin'."

You blink at her a little dumbly. You know, logically, that John must be an imaginary friend - someone her little five year old mind has conjured in all her hours alone in the big house. But still, your simmering paranoia about there being someone else in the house spikes.

"Have I ever met John, honey?"

"Nuh-uh," she giggles a little, looking at you with an expression that says silly mommy. "John's not really there, mommy. That's why I gotta take everything outside."

You nod a little, your worry assuaged. It's just an imaginary friend - a perfectly normal kid thing.

"Well," you hum, turning to the skillet to start on your own pancakes. "I wouldn't mind working on the porch today, baby. You and John can play outside all you want."

It should be just that. It is just that.

Except... the idea of an imaginary friend eats at you.

As the pieces start connecting you tell yourself that you've spent too much time alone in this big old house. You tell yourself you need to get out, to find communities for both you and your baby to get involved with.

But the dots still connect.

You think of all the times you've heard your daughter start crying in the middle of the night, only for her to be giggling by the time you get to her room. You think of the night you were sure you left the stove on (you'd planned to make brownies, but gotten distracted while the oven preheated) only to find it completely turned off when you rushed downstars.

You think of the full conversations your sweet baby girl tells about John. She tells you he's tall, with a big beard, and a funny hat. She says he's got a nice voice and soft hands. She says he tells her bedtime stories, and that he has a funny accent.

You sit on the porch one night, and the back door opens behind you. Instead of the sound of small feet pattering towards you, there's silence. The door closes another moment later.

Your daughter tells you that John thinks you should spend more time with them - not her, with them.

The bed is made one day when you're sure you hadn't bothered in the morning. You'd been overwhelmed with work, had been too stressed to bother tucking in your comforter. When you go to bed that night, it's perfectly made with almost military precision.

You watch from the porch as your daughter giggles with her doll, dancing the little toy through the air and talking to nothing. You blow a cool breath over your mug, and tell yourself there's nothing there.

That night, there's a spot of warmth in your bed when you lay down to sleep.

[milunalupin]

Hiiii congrats on the 100 followers 🍾 can I request a hockey player!James x reader in an already established relationship? Where jamie sees reader wearing one of his jerseys as a good luck charm (love-induced placebo effect) and one day, reader comes into a match WITHOUT the jersey?? The rest of how shenanigans is up to u thanks!

ty so so much for requesting, i hope this is hockey-y enough lol <3

— lucky charm

hockey player!james potter x reader ★ 860 words

a/n - i don't know anything about hockey so please bare with me

James was running around the flat like a madman, muttering something about cross checking and knee pads. He pushed past you a little too hard, retracing his steps to mumble a 'sorry' as he kisses your temple. Today's hockey game was very important, according to your boyfriend. As captain of the Gryffindors, he would not allow his team to lose their biggest rivals, the Slytherins. Your nose scrunched is disgust as you watched him pack his dirty lucky socks, walking to the kitchen to grab something to eat during the game.

As he was zipping up his game bag, you walked back over with a few snacks and his water bottle. He smiled fondly at you while accepting the bags of pretzels and baby carrots.

"I'll see you soon love," he wraps you in a tight hug, pulling away from you to look down at you sternly. "Don't forget to wear my jersey please."

Your eyes widened, and let out a sound of disbelief. "It was one time Jamie, three years ago!"

"I know but love of my life, apple of my eye, we really need to win this game." he whined, lightly shaking you by your shoulders.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you pushed him towards the door, reassuring him that you wouldn't forget. James pressed a few more kisses to your cheeks before clambering out the door with his duffel bag hung over his shoulder.

James had met you at a post-win celebration at a local bar, trying to impress you with all his hockey talk. Having had a few shots and nursing a cocktail, your tipsy self just nodded and smiled pretending to understand what the muscular cutie was talking about. When you met up again sober you admitted to not knowing anything about hockey, which didn't seem to be too much of a problem as he had asked you to be his just a few weeks later. Although you still didn't fully understand the sport, you still showed up to every game as James' biggest fan.

Back in the kitchen, you finished washing last night's dishes and made some hot chocolate for yourself to take to the game, filling a tumbler and not bothering to fully twist the cap on as you were now running a few minutes behind schedule. Scrambling to slip your shoes on by the door, of course you tripped over James's converse as you always do, only this time you're hot chocolate spills all over your white 'Potter' jersey.

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan. "Oh, he's gonna murder me."

You found your seat just in time for the faceoff, shivering from the cold metal of the arena benches. Maroon and emerald players danced around the ice, getting into their formations for the first round. James was in the middle as the team's center, waiting for the puck to drop. As soon as it did James took control, then passing it to his teammate. You watched as it flew from player to player, the sounds on skates on ice and the opinionated crowd bringing a smile to your face. Gryffindors fans started to stand when James was near the Slytherin's goal with the puck, then boo-ing the green team when the puck was stolen from him. The game was going by smoothly, you snacking on some pretzels as the two teams kept switching off on who had control of the puck.

You stood up and screamed with excitement as James scored, waving your arms around. His head whipped over to your usual section to find you, his bright grin faltering as he noticed your appearance. He let his eyes linger on your plain maroon sweater a few moments more before scoffing lightly and skating back to his position for the next period. The next few rounds were played a dirtier, with the Slytherin players checking the Gryffindors into the tempered glass and tripping them onto the ice.

The game ended with the Gryffindors winning 7-5, maroon-clad fans throwing up popcorn and cheering in celebration. You followed the crowd out, making your way towards the locker rooms, finding a spot against the wall to wait for James.

You watched as he walked out without paying you any attention. Frowning, you jogged to catch up to him. "Jamie, hey- James!"

He turned around with the biggest pout you'd ever seem from anyone, mumbling so softly you almost didn't hear him. "You're not wearing my jersey."

"I spilled hot chocolate on it so I had to change, I'm sorry my love." you stepped forward, taking his hands in yours. "But hey, you still won the game and you played amazingly, so maybe it wasn't so lucky after all."

"Well the jersey was for extra luck, my main lucky charm is you, so thank you for being here." he sighed and pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

"You're welcome, although you don't really need luck because you're so talented, James." You chuckled, feeling him squeeze you a little tighter as he nodded.

"But I was worried about today's game for a second so can you please wear the jersey next game?"

[cuddles-with-dragons]

a shitload of incorrect quotes

Tech: *clicks pen* Crosshair: *clicks pen in response* Wrecker: Stop that. Tech: Stop what? Wrecker: You’re talking about me in Morse code! Tech: Yes, that’s what we doing. In our very limited time, we took a class on a very outdated, very unnecessary form of communication just so we could talk about you in front of you. Congrats, you figured us out! *later* Crosshair, to Omega: That’s actually exactly what we were doing.

Hunter: What’s something you guys are better than Crosshair at? Wrecker: Mario Kart. Omega: Yeah, all video games except first-person shooters and The Last Of Us. Tech: Emotional vulnerability.

Tech: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Hunter: Maybe a bit tipsy? Echo: Drunk. Wrecker: Wasted. Crosshair: Dead.

Echo, setting down a card: Ace of spades. Tech, pulling out an Uno card: +4. Crosshair, pulling out a Pokémon card: Absol, I choose you! Hunter, trembling: What are we playing?!

Wrecker: What is love? Hunter: An emotional minefield. Tech: A neurochemical reaction. Omega: Baby don't hurt me.

Crosshair: What starts with F and ends with Uck? Echo: No it doesn't. Tech: Firetruck! Omega: FUCK!

Omega: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies. Hunter: You’re too young to have enemies. Omega: You don’t even know.

Crosshair: If I die, you can have what little I own. Hunter: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die? Crosshair: My unending existence is fuelled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full. Hunter: Hunter: *Sigh* Let me call your therapist again.

Nexu: I’m not a doctor, I’m a medic. Wrecker: What’s the difference then? Nexu: Well doctors actually save lives, medics just make you feel more comfortable as you die. Crosshair: Note to self; never get shot.

Crosshair: Hand me the people opener. Hunter: ... Hunter: Pardon? Crosshair, annoyed: The people opener! Just hand it to me! Hunter, stressed: WHAT THE FUCK IS A PEOPLE OPENER? Crosshair: How do you not know what a people opener is? Its pointy- you know? With a handle? Hunter: Knife. It's called a knife.

Omega, hugging Crosshair: Do you feel any better? Crosshair: I feel much better now that you're here with me. *Hunter walks in* Crosshair: I feel half better.

Hunter: Would you rather kill Tech, or— Echo: Yes, kill them. Hunter: I didn’t say the other thing— Echo: I don’t need to hear it. Tech: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

Benji, to cadet Crosshair: Oh my stars you are so cute and small! Crosshair: *proceeds to kick him in the shin and run away* Hunter, walking past: Rule number 1, don't call Crosshair cute or small.

Hunter: Omega is at that very special age where a kid only has one thing on their mind. Crosshair: Murder? Omega: Murder.

Hunter: How high are you? Crosshair: 6'4". Tech: No, he's asking what drugs are you on. Crosshair: Oh, antidepressants, why?

Crosshair: Hey, do you know the password to Hunter’s computer? Omega: Fuck you, Crosshair. Crosshair: Hey!! Omega: No, you misunderstood, the password is "fuckyouCrosshair". Crosshair: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.

Omega: In my defense, I was left unsupervised. Echo: Wasn’t Crosshair with you? Crosshair: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.

Tech: I will find us a ride. Tech: If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone. Omega: Oh, please. We're not children. *Tech leaves* Omega, casually: ...Eat shit and die. Crosshair, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

Omega: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Crosshair: I'm a knife. Wrecker, from across the room: He's the little spoon.

Crosshair: Fun Fact! The average person will walk by 36 murderers in their lifetime. Echo: I like how this is a "fun" fact. Hunter: It's fun because they didn't decide to murder you.

[overnowsfcb]

even if they talk; trent alexander-arnold smau

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x nepobaby knowles!model!reader

face claim: taylor russell

summary: people will criticize everything, but there is someone who will never fail you, and that was trent.

warnings: mostly fluff, angst (bit of hate and critics towards reader).

note: this is my first smau i hope it's not too bad! i would love to hear your thoughts or suggestions, also requests are open! — venus 🫂💐🫧

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynknowles, virgilvandijk and 1,199,023 others

trentarnold66 🤷🏽‍♂️

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user1 the best out there

user2 unreal 🔥🔥🔥

user3 let's go reds!

ynknowles congrats! is there some secret routine helping you before the game to be that amazing? 🤔

↪trentarnold66 Maybe.. But I can't share any details here 🤫

↪user4 ARE WE MISSING SOMETHING????

↪user5 whats so interesting??? share with the class????

user6 yn and trent interacting??? i- wow

↪user7 if i hadnt seen it with my own eyes id say everyones tripping

user8 are they implying something or is just me

↪user9 I THOUGHT EXACTLY THE SAME

user10 YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELF ynknowles

user11 LET HER COOK

↪user12 girl i think they've already had a feast

user13 wtf is yn doing here

↪user14 she ruins everything good

user15 i hope trent doesnt distract w this... cant even say it

↪user16 yeah we know what she did to her exes so...

↪user17 put some respect on beyoncé's daughter's name and inform yourself before talking, mind you

NEWS!

comments

user trent can do so much better than yn. she just wants to stay relevant

user shes using trent because she has no talents to show

user i've heard rumors about how yn's exes have ended. trent, watch your back, my man.

↪user you talk as if she murdered them??? plus she never did anything to any of her exes you're just talking bc it's free

user i just hope that trent can open his eyes asap

user what a disappointment from trent. i thought he was better than dating a spoiled kid with too much time and money in her hands

user y'all are just jealous that she has what many desire 1. money 2. fame 3. beauty 4. trent's dick

user why is everyone jumping to conclusions though? we should give them the space to tell us whenever they feel ready

user i love how haters act like they know everything about yn's life and they dont know shit

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

liked by zoeisabellakravitz, trentarnold66 and 2,763,548 others

ynknowles paris you are the vibes ⭐️ so damn proud of my little blue and this mind-blowing tour, i love you momma beyonce !

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beyonce Love you endlessly, my angel. You know how much your support means to Blue. 💙

bellahadid Prettiest fairy in the world.

troyesivan mmm alright??? why are you so perfect???

user18 no trent here though 🤷‍♀️

user19 this is the confirmation about how yn just uses trent

user20 ugh. i hate these nepobabies who think the world revolves around them

ynknowles has restricted the comments for this post

TWITTER!

INSTAGRAM!

liked by ynfan34, trentfan78 and 18,905 others

ynknowlesupdates Yn Knowles in Anfield today with friends! This is the first time we've seen her in public in three months.

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user1 i cant stand her 😒 smile or smth if youre gonna see your "boyfriend"

↪ ynfan1 if you cant stand her then poke your eyes with a spoon and dont bother 😁

ynfan2 omg this will be the first match that she attends. i hope she enjoys it!!!! (win please)

ynfan3 I MISSED HER SO MUCH IM GLAD SHES WELL

ynfan4 baby looks tired of people taking pics of her 😕 i wanna hug her

↪user2 but shes there for that??? she loves attention

↪ynfan5 or maybe just MAYBE she wants to support her boyfriend??

ynfan6 TODAY I WAS MISSING HER MORE THAN ANYTHING SHE LOVES ME

trentfan1 WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE DOING THERE?? i though we had gotten rid of her 😩

user4 if we lose today you know who is to blame...

trenfan2 over and over again i will repeat it until trent leaves her, shes with him for fame

↪ynfan7 yeah cause trent is soooo worried about what you think right???

user5 i bet shes there just for the cameras

trentfan3 yn trying to be a wag is so cute and laughable. she doesnt even measure up to the real ones.

↪user6 ikr? shes trying so hard poor girl

trentfan4 the fact that she goes with her friends 💀💀 i bet no wag would want to be seen with her

INSTAGRAM!

trentarnold66 Just clever people can handle how flawless my queen is. Happy first anniversary, my love. I love you madly, always. No need to demonstrate anything on social media when we're tellin' each other how much we love at every hour. ❤️

tagged: ynknowles

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ynknowles i love love love you so fucking much you dont have an idea

↪trentarnold66 i love you more more more than you could imagine

ynknowles thank you for being the most perfect man ive ever known t ❤️❤️❤️❤️

↪trentarnold66 i just try my best to be on your level, lovely

beyonce You are such a gentleman, Trent! Grateful for the way you take care of my angel.

liked by trentarnold66, ynknowles and 21,234 others

ynfan8 A YEAR??? BUT IF WE FOUND OUT FOUR MONTHS AGO

↪trentfan5 i feel so stupid how did they hide it so well 😦😦

trentfan6 shut them up trent

trentfan7 THATS A GOOD MAN!!!! men just take notes rn

bellahadid Thank you for taking care of the purest woman in this world, Trent 💖

ynfan9 not bee and bella thanking him 🥺🥺

↪trentfan8 im gonna cry he must be so cute

↪ynfan10 no bc she surely spent some tough months with the hate towards her and he sure was the supportive boyfriend as he should 😭😭

trentfan9 WHY NO ONES TALKING ABOUT THE BATMAN KEYCHAINS???

↪ynfan11 nonononooooo i love them best couple in the world

ynfan12 the pics he takes of her, the caption, everything 😪😪😪 god send me a man like that

trentfan10 the people who said they were going too fast must be regretting it 🤭

ynfan13 im afraid we'll find out they have kids when they're in uni, lmao. happy anniversary you two!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

[fuzzybirdie]

Hero Of Changing Faces

Ch.4 Congrats! It's an Ice Ice Baby

Danny and Signal arrived at the enterance without issue. The Purple Hood person there pointed them to his parents the moment he said loud. Dissapointing but not supprising.

"Dann-o!" His farher called waving enthusiastically "I see you've met the local ghosts! Have they mentioned anything of their unfinished buisness? And what happened to your hair?"

You couldn't see signal's eyes through his cowl, but his expression was firmly in a confused 'excUSE ME?' Expression.

"Wait what?" Danny pulled a lock of hair infront of his eyes and watched it fade back to black. "That's new. Anyway, Dad," Danny sighed, running a hand down his face "this is Signal. He's a meta. Metas are Humans-" punctuated by wild gesturing to himself and the rest of the crowd "-that have extra abilities. Signal can manipulate light, and I can create ice."

The fentons all froze at that. "Create ice?" His mother breathed.

"Yep!" Danny cheered, making an ice bird in his hand. "I was on the ride the not-announcer-"

"Joker?"

"Didn't seem too funny to me. Anyways, the not-announcer attacked the ride, and I managed to freeze the wheeles, and now I know that I have ice powers!"

His parents had a giddy expression on that read that he was in for a game of 21 questions when he got home, and jazz had buried her hands in her face.

"Please tell me you haven't been calling the joker -the guy that attacked you- not-announcer-guy..." Jazz pleaded.

Danny made a thoughtfull expression. "You see, I could, but then I'd be lying. Besides," he shrugged "he got a better name than Visorless Biker and Firetruck over there,"

The purple one, who was debriefing with Signal suddenly let out a Loud cackle. "I absoloutely need to call them that now!" Practically sprinting at them.

Signal shook his head and went to follow her, wether to continue the debrief or prevent a murder (Biker had a very 'fuck off' aura) who knows.

Before he could leave, Danny's dad called him. "Mr. Signal! You are human correct?" At Signal's confused confirmation, "are the other Bats human as well? We're mostly here for GHOST! Research!"

Signal bit his lips, obviously realising that Danny's parents were just like that(tm).

"Yes," he spoke slowly, "we're all human, just highly trained, and Very Private. If you want to do more reaserch, you'll have better luck in Central City. The speedsters love to talk about the mechanisims of meta abilities like theirs."

Danny's Dad slumped in defeat, while his Mum clapped her hands "Well then. Danny, we're very proud of you for your newfound abilities, and I want to hear all about them when we get home, but we should get going home.

"There aren't any ghosts here that live long term on this side of the veil. We might have more luck elsewhere."

~~~~~~~

masterpost

first / prev / tbp

Ao3 (maybe?)

So! The Gotham arc is finished! Hope everyone's enjoying so far, and that brains don't get too broken in the next part,

Edit: as a side note, I haven't actually read any Dc comics, and the only cartoon I've watched of theirs is young justice. (And Liegion of superheros, but that's set centuries in the future) so if i get anyone wildly ooc, please tell me. My only reference is fannon, after all.

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, congrats! For your 650+ follower event, could you do a Modern AU where the Reader is a popular music artist/dancer. But she's like a really down to earth person that if you met her randomly on the street you wouldn't guess that she was famous (she personally hates the fame). Well one day, she starts getting texts from an unknown number and also starts getting letters as well(she basically has a creepy fan stalker). Her agent then decideds to hire Hunter to be readers bodyguard. Then when they start getting close to one another Hunter realizes that the reason he's protecting reader may not be because it's his job...

Maybe you could also have Hunter and Reader show off their tattos?(Reader has a tattoo of vines and flowers that trails down her arm, music notes on her thigh and a big butterfly on her back)

Could it also be fairly long, if you can.

Sorry if it's a big ask, I have a LOT of ideas.

Fields Of Gold

Summary: You’ve been singing and dancing for your whole life, it’s what makes you happy. You never expected, or even wanted, fame or fortune for it. Parental pressure, mixed with getting scouted by an agent, meant you got both despite your desires. And then the stalker comes out of the woodwork, and you start to think, maybe you made a mistake.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 4085

Warnings: Stalking, murder, animal death

Prompt: Modern AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal

A/N: So, I made the choice to leave this without a definitive ending, because I like the way that it feels. I hope you like it anyway. The reader is a pop star who goes by the stage name Galactic Mint (it's a MAC lipstick color). And the title was the song that I was listening to when I started writing it.

You’ve always loved to dance.

Your mother likes to tell the story of when you were an infant, and how you would wiggle along with the music before you could even walk and talk. She’d tell the story of you learning to dance as a toddler and all you could do was bounce along with the music, rather than proper dancing.

It only made sense, then, that as soon as you were old enough your mother signed you up for baby ballet.

As you grew, and became more coordinated, more styles opened up to you. From tap dancing to hip-hop, from belly dancing to salsa dancing. You learned them all and you loved them all.

You never wanted fame or fortune. You just wanted to dance. To be able to feel the music down to your bones and move along with it.

But when you were 14 and your mother suggested voice lessons to go along with your dance lessons, you couldn’t help but agree. Especially when she said that she wouldn’t pay for any more dance lessons if you didn’t also take singing lessons.

So you did.

And you were good at it.

You were the only one surprised when an Agent reached out to you.

And you were the only one surprised when you were offered a record deal.

At barely 15 years old, you released a hit pop song called Gumball, and you were launched into stardom. You had someone who styled your hair, someone else who did your make-up. You had a stylist who picked out your everyday clothes, and another one who designed your concert outfits. You had private tutors for every subject.

You had an agent, a lawyer, an accountant, a team of bodyguards, a personal trainer, and a personal nutritionist. 

You didn’t have any friends, though.

It was a very lonely childhood.

You couldn’t go to the arcade to play video games, you couldn’t go to the mall, you couldn’t go to the movies. All you could do was live in the mansion your parents picked out, the mansion you paid for, and travel in the trailer that your parents also picked out.

And, privately, you hated it.

Hated the concerts, hated the singing, hated having people pawing at your hair and your body. Hated them telling you that you couldn’t have pizza or ice cream because it might ruin your body.

You hated the skin-tight leotards that they dressed you in for concerts. And you hated the caked-on pastel make-up as well as the synthetic wigs you had to wear for public appearances. 

You hated the tight clothes your stylist dressed you in, the mini-skirts and short-shorts and heels—

The day you turned 18, you fired all of them. 

Your manager, your nutritionist, your stylist, your hairdresser, your make-up artist. All of them.

You had your lawyer kick your family out of your home, had the courts order your family to pay you back for all of the money they took from you since you were a teenager, and then, when they tried to fight back, you completely disowned them and got a restraining order against them.

At the age of 18, you completely reinvented yourself. 

Oh, sure, you still made pop music, but you moved away from the pastel preteen look that everyone had been shoving you into and into a more adult style. 

And you thrived.

You sang songs of love, of loss, of betrayal. Your concerts, where you used to have to focus on singing, gained more and more energy as suddenly you were able to dance to your music.

Suddenly you were happy, and your fans could tell.

And they loved it.

However, there is a downside to being so famous.

The first letter arrives shortly after your 22nd birthday. 

Now, at this point, you’ve been a popstar for seven years, you’re no stranger to letters and gifts from your fans. You’ve even received creepy letters before, letters from adult men who thought that you were singing to them. 

But there is something different about this letter. Different enough that you bring it to your manager, who hands it over to your security team. 

And then the second letter arrives a week later. And a third one two days after that.

All of them are surrendered to your security team before you even read them.

The fourth letter arrives the very next day, attached to a box. The envelope is empty, but inside the box is a sheep’s head.

You don’t see it, luckily.

Your manager does though, and he puts his foot down. He calls the police, who call in the feds, and after one of the feds points out that this is a clear escalation, and that you’re in danger, your manager starts looking for a personal guard for you.

And then the phone calls start.

Verbal threats against you, against the people who work with you, against the concert venues coming up, against the people who attend the concerts—

You’re sitting in your kitchen, your head buried in your hands as you stare at a list of concert venues that have active threats against them. Active threats against them because of you, when your manager invites himself into your home.

“You’re not thinking of canceling the concert dates, are you?” He asks from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Don’t we have a responsibility to my fans?” You counter without lifting your head, “If I don’t cancel and someone gets hurt, won’t that be on me?”

“What do the feds say?” He asks.

“That I’m not responsible for the actions of other people.” You say, “That they’ve put word out to the venues, and that they’ll have security all over the place if I decide to go through with it.”

“Well, it sounds like they know what they’re doing.”

You sigh and drop your hands to the table, “Why are you here, Miles?”

“I found you a personal bodyguard,” Miles says proudly.

“I have a personal bodyguard,” You counter, “They’re all over the place. I can’t walk five feet without tripping over one of them.”

“You’re right, but they’re stretched thin. So this,” Miles gestures to the side and a man steps into the kitchen, “is Hunter.”

You lean back in your seat and stare at him. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with shoulder-length brown hair and a skull tattooed over half his face. “Nice to meet you.” You greet politely.

“Ma’am,” He nods once and then steps further into the room, and you watch as he scans the kitchen, “Your manager has hired my team to be your guard.” He says focusing his intense gaze on your face, “Two of my brothers, Tech and Wrecker, are coordinating with the Federal Agents, while my other two brothers, Echo and Crosshair, are working with the guards who already work here. We’re hoping to close any holes that might remain.”

“Well, I appreciate that.” You reply.

Hunter nods once, “May I ask you some questions?”

“If you like.”

Hunter nods and crosses the room to sit across from you, pulling a notebook from the pocket of his jacket as he sits, “How long have you known the men and women of your security team?”

“Since I was 14.”

“Your parents hired them?”

“No. My agent.”

Hunter nods, “According to the profile I have on you, you’ve disowned your parents? Could they have something to do with this?”

“I guess it’s possible, but you’d have to ask the agents about that.”

Hunter makes a note in his notebook, “Any ex-boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about?”

“None.”

“Friends?”

“I’ve been a pop star since I was 14 years old, Hunter. I didn’t go to school or have friends. I just worked.”

“Sounds lonely.”

You just shrug.

“Your Manager gave me a layout of your home. I noticed that all of the glass is both bulletproof and mirrored?”

“That’s right.”

“May I ask why?”

“I got tired of people taking pictures of me making breakfast.”

“People take pictures often?”

“Popstar.”

“You got any names?”

“I don’t, my security might.”

“Alright.” He closes the notebook, “Can I get a tour?”

“Yeah, of course.” You stand and gesture vaguely, “This is the kitchen, there’s a door there,” You point to a hidden door, “Leads to the basement.”

“Anything in there?”

“Not really. Some shelves, my winter clothes, some of my old costumes and wigs, but that’s it.” You pause, “There’s no other entrance into the basement either.”

Hunter nods and makes a note on the map he pulled out of his notebook, “Alright, can I go down there?”

“Yeah.” You open the door to the basement, “I’m not sure what you’re looking for. The Agents already did all of this.”

“Just checking behind them, that’s all.”

You watch as Hunter goes down into the basement, and walks around for a moment, making notes on the map in his hands, before he heads back up.

“This place is single-level, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Can I see the bedroom?”

“Yeah, follow me.” You lead him through the house, pointing out different places, until you push open the bedroom door. “This is my room. The windows are the same as the ones in the kitchen.”

Hunter nods, “Less in here, too.”

“I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in a room covered in windows.” You explain.

“Smart.” Hunter walks the room and makes some notes on the map, before heading back to you, “So, all things considered, your home—” He stops when there’s the sound of glass splintering. 

Your gaze darts to one of your windows, which is now covered in spiderweb-like cracks that indicate that someone tried to break it. Hunter ushers you out of the bedroom, practically tackling you into the hallway, and he presses you against the wall as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and presses it against his ear.

You listen as Hunter rattles off some information and then hangs up the phone.

“We’re going to stay put right here, just until my brothers can make sure that no one else is going to take a pot-shot at us,” Hunter says reassuringly. 

“I just don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt me,” You admit as you curl your trembling hands around the hem of your shirt, “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“You can’t attach logic to someone like this.” Hunter explains, “He’s crazy, that’s all there is to it.” His phone rings and he answers it before the first ring ends, “Yeah?”

Hunter listens to the other man on the phone, and then he sighs.

“Of course he did. Don’t worry about it, keep your eyes open. We’re going to have to move the primary.” He glances at you, “I’ll take care of it.” He hangs up and slides his phone into his jacket pocket.

“What?”

“My brothers and the federal agents found a snipe rifle on the hill.”

“Sniper?” You ask in disbelief.

“Afraid so. Is there anyplace else you can go?”

“No. Nowhere.”

Hunter stares at you for long enough that you shift uncomfortably, “Alright. I think I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But you kind of stand out a little.”

You blink at him and then look down at yourself, “I mean, I can change into other clothes?”

“Do that. Carefully.” 

You nod and slip back into the bedroom, and then into your closet. Immediately you slip out of the uncomfortable clothes that your stylist encourages you to wear, and you tug the wig off your head. 

You change your clothes into a pair of loose jeans and a teeshirt covered in cats. Then you pull the pins out of your hair as well as remove the braid, allowing your hair to tumble around your shoulders. 

The last thing you do is pull a sweatshirt from your college over your shirt, hiding the intricate tattoos that decorate your arm. And you grab a matching hat and hurry back into the hallway, “Okay. How’s this?”

Hunter blinks at you, twice, “Aren’t you supposed to be a redhead?”

“Wig.”

“Huh. You know, if I hadn’t seen you go inside, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all.”

“The clothing that I prefer doesn’t go along with the whole popstar thing.” You admit sheepishly, “And the wig is because I was told that my natural color is boring.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you’re so different from the you that the rest of the world knows. That means my plan might work.” Hunter motions for you to follow him, “Your manager said that I could park my car in your garage.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like I can drive.”

“Right. Well, here’s my plan. You and I are going to go and hide out on the Marauder.”

“What’s the Marauder?”

“A ship. My ship. It’s not large, but you’ll be safe.” Hunter replies as he leads you into the garage, “Put the hat on. You’ll be sitting in the front seat.”

“Uhm…”

“Nervous.”

“Someone is trying to kill me.”

Hunter smiles at you and lightly presses his hand against your shoulder, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Somehow, amazingly, you believe him.

Two weeks later, Hunter is sitting at the helm of the Marauder, a frown pulling down his lips. 

The situation has gotten worse. Far worse.

The stalker has turned into a murderer, having killed three women who look like the pop star. Well, how the public sees her, at least.

He hasn’t told her yet.

By this point, he knows her well enough to know that the knowledge that three women died because they looked like her would torture her.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, I’m still here, Tech.”

“Good. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, vod. What do the Feds think?”

“One of them wants you to bring her back, so they can use her as bait.”

“Tell me you told them that that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh yes. Crosshair was very specific about that.”

“Good.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Tech speaks again, “I called in Phee for some help. And Echo called in Fives.”

“Yeah? They helping?”

“Fives has brought some interesting insight into the stalker’s mind. He is quite the talented profiler.” Tech replies, “Phee is doing some digging of her own, though I’m not sure what she is looking into.”

“What do you think, Tech? Gut reaction.”

“You know I do not operate that way.” Tech chides his older brother, “However, there is something strange about one of the Agents. So I have started looking into him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I will let you know what I learn.”

“Be careful, don’t go anywhere without Wrecker or Crosshair.” Hunter pauses, at the sound of movement below deck, “Listen, I have to go.”

“I will be as careful as I can. Tech out.”

The call disconnects, and Hunter sighs as he drops the phone back on the table. There’s the sound of light footsteps, and he turns as the bridge door opens, “Morning, Sunshine.” 

“Good morning,” She replies, a small smile on her face. The scent of sunblock fills the small room, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just talking to Tech.” Hunter pauses, “I’m afraid we can’t return to shore just yet.”

“Well, that’s okay. I think I’m finally starting to develop my sea legs.”

Hunter laughs, “Well, you haven’t fallen yet today, but it’s still early.”

She huffs, “Rude.”

Hunter just grins at her, “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“Mm, maybe I’ll continue working on my next song.” She replies thoughtfully, “But I haven’t decided yet.”

Hunter shifts in his seat, “Let me ask you a question, Sunshine.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you even like singing?”

“I…” She hesitates, “I like dancing. The singing is…well, I can take it or leave it.”

“If you’re not happy, then why don’t you stop?”

“...I’ve been singing since I was a teenager. I grew up in front of cameras. What else can I do?”

“You could teach dancing.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugs and drops into the seat across from him, “I dunno, though. I mean, sure, I have a degree but it’s a General Education degree. And I wouldn’t want people to come to learn from me simply because of who I am.”

“Look, if you don’t like your job, then quit.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there’s a contract, for one. And, for another…I dunno. Change is scary, I guess.”

Hunter stares at her for a moment, and he smiles. “You know. You don’t look anything like the woman who performs on stage.”

“Makeup is the great equalizer.” She jokes.

“I think you’re much prettier like this. Without all of the makeup and the wigs.”

She laughs softly and averts her gaze for a moment, and then her gaze locks with his, “Well. You’d be alone in thinking that.”

“Come on, man. I’ve been told since I was a teenager that I’m not good enough as I am.” She shrugs, “You hear something enough times, and you start to think it about yourself, right?”

“You know. I think I hate your parents.”

Her head falls back as she laughs, “Have you seen some of the outfits they okayed for me when I was still a kid? My stylist dressed me like a porn star.”

Hunter grins at her, “And when did you get those? The tattoos.”

“The first one was when I was 18. After the court cases were over. And then another one at 19, and my back piece was finished shortly before I turned 20.” She says as she holds out her arm so he's able to see the vines and flowers, next to the musical notes on her leg.

“A backpiece, huh?”

“A butterfly." She explains, "What about you? When did you get yours.”

“19. All of them at 19.”

“All of them? The face one is obvious, but you have more?”

“Oh yeah. I was a dumb kid and went all in on the skeleton thing.” Hunter replies with a grin, “It goes all the way down.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Your artist didn’t try to talk you out of it?” She asks.

“Oh, he tried. He’s also an older brother, so he didn’t try all that hard.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“A lot. There’s so many of us.” Hunter stands and heads to the door, “Come on, sunshine. Let’s work on your knots.”

“Ugh. Not more knots.”

“Yup. You gotta learn.”

“Fiiiine.” She sighs as she gets to her feet, “But I want to see your chest tattoo.”

“Only if I can get a look at your tattoos.”

“Deal.”

Hunter leads her to where the rope is located and gets her started on her knots before he leans back and watches her. She’s, actually, very talented. His sunshine has deft fingers, and a good memory.

She’d make a good deckhand. 

Plus, in her own words, she’s not very happy with the lack of privacy that comes with being a pop star. She does it because she feels like she has no choice.

Also, she’s cute and he likes looking at her. 

Watching the “Pop Musical Sensation Galatic Mint” shed her skin and turn into a normal woman, with normal likes and dislikes, has been eye-opening.

Watching her fold back into her shell will be heartbreaking.

“What?”

“Hm?”

She’s staring at him, her head tilted to the side, “You’re staring.”

“You’re pretty. Very starable.”

“Come on, Hunter.”

He laughs, “I’m being honest, but I’m also thinking.��

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty good at this. You’d be welcome on my crew if you wanted a place.”

“What? Give up the glitz and glam for a life on a ship?”

“You hate the glitz and glam.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” She admits.

“I need to tell you something,” Hunter says, “Something I should have told you earlier.”

She paused mid-knot, “What’s wrong?”

“Your stalker,” Hunter says slowly, “He’s escalating.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what the Federal Agents said when the sheep head was sent to my home.” She replies, “And the attempted assassination—”

“He’s murdered three women.”

“...what?”

“Women who look like you.” Hunter says, “Well, who look like you when you perform, at least.”

“Oh my god,” 

“Listen, this isn’t your fault.”

“But if I hadn’t left—”

“Then you’d probably be dead now.”

She stares at him and sets the rope on the table, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to stress about it.” Hunter admits, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his, “Listen. My brothers have called in a profiler and someone else to help them. They think they’re getting close now.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, “I’m going to have to retire from performing.”

“Sunshine—”

“Women are dying. Because of me.”

“No.”

“Yes, Hunter. I might not be killing them, but they are dying because of me.” She squeezes his hand, “How am I supposed to live with that?”

“I don’t know. But you’re going to have to.” Hunter says quietly.

“Do you blame me?”

“Never.”

“But—”

He squeezes her hands and she trails off, “Listen to me. You could have shot them yourself, and I still wouldn’t blame you, okay?”

“That would…definitely be my fault then, Hunter.”

“You would have had good reason, I’m sure.”

She laughs weakly, “You’re a good man, Hunter.”

“Not that good.”

“No, you are.” She smiles at him weakly, “Um…I’m not really feeling being social. Do you mind if I just hang out below deck today?”

“Of course not.”

She gently pulls her hands from his grasp and gets to her feet, and then she drops a light kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, Hunter.”

“For what?”

“For listening. And protecting me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Sunshine.” He pauses, “Sunshine.”

“Yeah?”

“No phone calls.”

“I remember.” She replies.

Hunter watches as she heads to the stairs that lead below deck, and he sighs and closes his eyes. Maker, he’s an idiot.

“Hey, sunshine.”

She pauses on the stairs and turns to look at him, “Yeah?”

“Hold on a second.” He gets to his feet and crosses over to her.

She moves to stand on the deck again, “Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, so much as I’m something of an idiot.”

“I don’t—?”

Hunter brings his hand up to cup her cheek, and she blinks at him in confusion. “Like I said, I’m an idiot,” He jokes, before he leans in and brushes her lips with his own.

It can’t even be called a proper kiss, so much as a promise for more, if she’s willing.

When Hunter pulls back her eyes are wide, and she looks flustered.

“Was that alright?” He asks softly.

“Um…yeah. It was more than alright, actually.” She replies softly, “Can we do it again?”

He chuckles and leans in, and his lips are about to press against hers when the phone up in the wheelhouse rings loudly. “Hold that thought.” Hunter takes the stairs two at a time and grabs the phone, “Yeah?”

“Hunter, it’s Fives.”

“Hey, vod. What’s up?”

“Listen. It was one of the agents.” Fives speaks quickly, “They pulled some strings, and they know where you are.”

Hunter goes cold, “Is he on the way?”

“Yes. The Feds are hoping to intercept him before he arrives at the Marauder. But, well.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“No. He’s also killed three more women in the last week. That’s a total of at least 6 victims. Probably more based on some of the information that Phee and Tech have given me.”

“And he’s heading here.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Fives.”

“Happy hunting, vod.”

“Will do.” Hunter hangs up the phone and heads back down to the deck. “You need to get below deck, Sunshine.”

She stares at him, eyes wide, “He found us, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, so it seems. Below deck. No one is going to hurt you so long as I’m around.” Hunter promises.

Slowly, she nods and turns to head below deck. Hunter follows her to the bottom of the stairs and grabs the fire door, to pull it shut.

“Be careful.” She whispers.

“Always am, Sunshine.” He pulls the fire door shut and makes sure that it’s properly sealed before he heads up and grabs his guns out of the safe, making sure that they’re loaded and the safety is off.

His Sunshine will be safe, any other option is out of the question. This asshole has terrorized her for long enough. It’s time to end this.