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inthisfire-ifindrain · 5 years

Text

Till death...

under a read more due to length very angsty and triggers galore,

Hector kills Vulpes and Fiona gets her revenge. it started out a drabble and turned into a full damn story.

@ratherxintense

Staring at the door she sat quietly,two weeks. Hes been gone two weeks, he promised three days. She sat in panic wondering if she needs to leave. Fighting with herself telling herself she should have went after him days ago. It wasn't right and she felt it. No letter brought by a man saying he would be later the planned. Nothing. Just scilence. Feeling her heart beat pounding away in her chest she got up quickly and ran up the stairs to their bedroom. "I should habe left a week ago." Speaking to the emptyness, She changing her clothes quickly and packing her bag hastily for anything she may need if he was in trouble put on her boots and ran out the door not even noticing that she had left it wide open in her hurry.

It took a days time to find out the area he was last in. Question wastelanders on a blue eyed blond hair handsome man by the name of Ivan Fox. Every question every encounter terrified her. Changing her story each time deciding that telling them she is his wife and hes missing wouldnt be a good idea incase he has been with a new contact. She cringed and her stomach turned each time that thought came creeping up. "I'm his sister unfortunately our mom has passed away and i need him to come home." A lie she stuck with decently well. Until she came upon one group of raiders outside some shitty bar. They mostly laughed at her but did inform her that a friend of theirs dragged someone off by that description they couldnt tell her the mans name. "What is your friends name?" She said sternly being met again with laughter and a comment of.

"Hector. You best bet to stay away small woman." Hearing that her face had lost color, there must be no mistake. She remembers a few years back Vulpes came home fucked up and terrified of a man named Hector. It had scared her to see him afraid of anything much less a man. "I will do as i please now which way is this Hector..." The sweetness in her voice had disapeared,the darnkness in her eyes shown as she spoke. The three raiders quieted down noticing the change in the small woman in front of them. Pointing and telling her the general direction of his place they didn't worry. Once she had gathered all the information she needed she took her blade out, killing all three unsuspecting raiders they were close together and she had managed to end them before they had a chance to defend themselves. After all she couldn't leave a witness she had a grave idea of what she was dealing with now and knew this was not going to end well.

Following the direction they gave her head spinning the whole way, feeling that its too late that its her fault, this is why she needed to leave sooner. Two weeks. Could Hector have him this long and he still be alive? The growing pain in her stomach starting to get stronger as she forces herself to not be sick. It wasnt long before she approached a building with what looked like minimal lighting. The sun was setting so she hid, but hid close enough to see a figure moving around. Fiona watched and waited it felt like hours and maybe it had been. But the figure stepped out and she got a decent look at his face. "Hector" , she mumbled as the man looked how Vulpes had described him to be. He left off some where she could care less about after only waiting ten minutes, when he was good and out of view she crept in an open window.

Standing in his home she looked around, the place was disgusting. Blood, carnage, body parts from what she could make out. Covering her mouth she gaged before noticing something shining in the corner. Approaching she also saw legion clothing.. And his Vexillarius hat.. "No no no no" she spoke out loud in a panic as she ran twards it. Dropping to her knees she knew.. It was him.. It was... Him. Non recognizable, almost as if he was never a human at all. Shakingly she reached out to what was part of his hand the gleam she had initially saw. His wedding ring, further setting in it was him. She stood up and vomited in the near by sink before breaking into tears and sliding back down to the floor, crawling back to what remained of her husband, her owner. Fiona gently put her hands on his holding it but not moving it as if it would melt and be gone too.

She cried over him for as long as she could her body shaking in heart break and anger. Gently she took his ring off and put it in her bag along with his hat. Moving his hat made her scream, causing her to see more of what was his face tears coming down harder making her vision blurry, almost censoring the image herself. Next to him was more of his things, among them one of her red scarfs that he took and always carried when he was away.

Taking his hat over to the sink she washed it off. Not very well but well enough to put it in her bag. She wasn't alright. And this was not the end. She couldn't bury him. She couldn't take to much , and make it noticeable someone was messing with the body or inside hectors house. Hesitating to leave she stood at the window and looked back at him."I love you.. Mea anima.." She spoke quietly words he had always spoke to her. She turned and left out the window she had came in.

Watching, waiting, ploting. Days and nights on end. Days passing, turning into weeks. She was going to do this right and she was going to kill him. Stalking Hector took longer then she initially thought it would to get his patterns down, his behaviors, his drinks. By the time she had formulated a plan a few weeks had passed. Watching outside his window or a rock, he never noticed the small woman, after all her proficiency in sneaking about was one of her greatest abilities. When it got dark out and she was confident in his movements she would creep between windows watching him. Watching how he murders. Their screams for help falling on deaf ears for she was not their to be their savoir. The one she had cared about was gone. And Hectors destruction was the only thing on her mind. Leaving his place temporarily to get what she needed for her plot, drugs of almost all kinds along with a good healthy supply of med x and the basic stempacks. But enough drugs to know the monster out was her goal.

He had left and now was her plan in motion she snuck in. Several bags of drugs crushed and ready to be put in every bottle of alcohol he had she started in. Setting it up. Making sure she had enough rope and that his own killing table would be ready for him. Leaving this time she waited on his roof.. Hours passed before she saw him walk alone into his home. Perfect she thought to herself, No need to get rid of a victim. Climbing down she watched threw a window. Watched as Hector downed his own poison. About an hour past the beast fell to the floor not even making it to the couch by now he must knwo something isnt right. Fiona acted quickly not knowing how long she had before he wakes. Practically jumping through the window she threw her bag down grabbed her rope and tied the large mans hands and legs together. He was home and had already stripped himself of heavy armor for that she was greatful. It was feat getting him upon the table but using the rope and a little extra strength she was able too and tied him down with rope and the tables leather straps everything tight, she could see his hands changing color, no chances of him escaping or getting ahold of her.

Hector came around in just a hour the drugs wearing off. He fought at the restraints she quickly injected something into his neck causing him to almost lose consciousness again. Slapping his face she spoke. "Hey hey there!" Her voice was erratic sounding as she continued his eyes looking at her in confusion. "Don't, don't fight it. . it is over for you..you know. You must know.. Countless people you must have killed here..." She glanced over to the corner. As Hector noticed where she was glancing. "Before you open your disgusting mouth yes... You killed my husband. Vulpes.. " her cheeks turned red as her eyes started watering and bluring. Taking her hand she wiped her at her eyes concentrating back onto what she was doing. She could see a smile creep up on Hectors face.

Screaming at him as he began to tell her the awful things ans grosome things he had done to Vulpes. Quickly she took a rag and shoved it in his mouth nearly down his throat. "You Don't get to fucking talk!!" She screamed at him,already having a set plan she didn't want to hear this and didn't want to stray from the path. Crying she took a blade from his weaponry and started cutting away at him. His screams muffled from the wrag. Showing him each part of him she cut off of him, keeping him alive with med x and a stim pack here and there. "Don't want you to bleed out just yet now do we?" Her voice low almost a whisper. It went on for what seemed like hours, days? A day? Keeping it slow and keeping him alive. Taking breaks herself she would stop and sit on the couch and stare off into the corner letting time pass. Unmoving, almoat as if she was a statue. Then back at it again. Him in agonizing pain eventually she got all his limbs off in a gory mess on her and on the floor parts of him almost scattered everywhere arms legs fingers foot. But she kept him alive through it all, with the drugs of the wasteland. Stopping everytime shock had made him pass out. Eventually there was no more to cut off and he had spit out the rag at this point. Her over on the couch once again staring off. He speaks "I wonder if i have found someone the same as me.." He was speaking but was speaking as if delirious not directly to her.

It broke her gaze into nothing as she shook her head as if coming back into this world. "I'm not the same as you.. I'm fucking better then you." Standing up she went over to Vulpes corpse and grabbed his ripper slowly running her hand along the side of the blade. "Its time to end this. Its time for you to die Hector." Walking over to him she put the blade onto his neck, not turning it on she slowly sawed away at him until he head was completely severed. Grabbing his head she put it on a spike outside in front of the building before going back in. Gathering everything she needed she stumbled upon holotapes. One had Vulpes name on it she grabed it and put it in her bag, she had also found his ear in Hectors sick collection. She wrapped it in a red cloth and stored that away as well before walking to the corner of the room. She took the scarf he had carried with him and covered his remains with it, kissing her fingers and pressing it to the cloth. She walked out of Hectors home with no peace in her heart and no where to go but home.

She didn't stay at their home very long, it was a wreck by the time she got there. Animals all gotten to the food. Things everywhere. Walking straight upstairs she grabbed extra clothing but not hers, their wedding holotape from when they took a vacation and got secretly married at Jacobstown. She held it close before packing it away too. As she walked out she paused at the second bedroom next to theirs, glancing in it toys and teady bears. A dream she nagged him of that will never happen, his promise unintentionally broken. She closed the door and continued walking.

Not sure where she ended up . some home . some strange land. She got rid of anyone in her way until She found this one room shack, already frail from not eating, she looked sick and emaciated, opening the door she found it acceptable. Spending her nights playing his voice on their wedding holotape, hearing his voice speaking their vows helped lul her to sleep when her tears dried. Until one night she played Hectors tape. His screams, his sorrys to who she could only assume her. Hectors laugh, the laugh got to her. Everything had gotten to her she could no longer take this only a few months had passed sense he died and she couldn't continue. She put his ring on her finger next to the one he had givin her on their wedding day. Curled up on the old bed crying she took her finger, her nail still pointed and sharp with the metal underneath she glided it down her arm, and then again on her other arm. The red of her blood begging to run down her arm onto the bed at a fast pace she closed her eyes and held his hat tightly the fur of it touching her face as she closed her eyes and welcomed the deep sleep that eventually over came her, her heart coming to a stop. Fiona becoming one of the sad mysteries of the wasteland for anyone who stumbles upon her.

#tw death #tw suicid #tw blood #tw dismemberment

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steve0discusses · 6 years

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Yugioh S1 Ep 40 PART 1/2: So Much Random Stuff Happens That It Requires Two Parts

Most of the time, Yugioh’s plot is delivered in nice, bizarre, bite-sized segments, offset by duels that I skip. But then, in this episode they decided “Hey, we should drop some plot. Like a lot of REALLY WACKY plot.”

And thus we have an episode with over 80 caps. So, this’ll be a two-parter! The other part will show up later. Like...when we finish it.

Also, despite the fact that this is probably one of the more important episodes of the season, it has quite some damage on the recording on Netflix. You’ll see that it isn’t really cropped right on the sides, and in some parts it’s got motion blur I couldn’t avoid. One day, Yugioh will get it’s Sailor Moon remaster, but this is not the day. Also, if they redubbed Yugioh, it would be an absolute tragedy, but that’s a different story.

TL;DR Forgive the massive amount of text in the upcoming recaps. There’s just so much they did and I uh...didn’t want this to end up being over 100 caps this episode alone.

So, lets get into it: The Yugi crew is looking for Pegasus.

For some reason, Tea suddenly remembers what went down the night before and decides “I bet Pegasus is hiding in that spooky tower we don’t actually know how to get into because we climbed it with a grappling hook.”

(Sometimes I get used to Yugi’s eyeliner and then they throw a shot like this at me and it’s like DAMN, Yugi, when did you have time to apply that stiletto heel to your face? Like most of the time I’m just put off by the awful hair and then the rest of the time I’m just really jealous of this emo boy’s wings.)

With that they suddenly remembered...the other stuff.

(read more under the cut)

I like how Joey is just so incredibly fed up with magic at this point. Out of all of them, he seems to hate magic the very most although his best friend is a walking dark magic portal. Joey is just completely done, but unfortunately for Joey it turns out all the magic up to this point hasn’t even remotely been the amount of magic that this show is going to throw at us, because this entire episode is a bunch of wizards just screwing with each other.

I’ve mentioned before that it feels like the power players of Yugioh are kinda like Greek Gods where they just really can’t be bothered about 95% of the time--but when they are FINALLY bothered enough to move their own ass, they just kinda sweep the floor clean and leave me utterly baffled.

Anyways, Pegasus actually is in the spooky tower, to my disbelief, at this non-euclidean desk that doesn’t seem to exist in time and space.

And then Kaiba wakes up in a cabbage-patch lookin jail cell. I would love to see more of his reaction to that but alas, this episode is not about Seto Kaiba.

Pegasus decided to make good on his word, mostly because Yugi is a cursed Pharaoh and he doesn’t want to see what happens if he doesn’t make his end of the bargain. To be quite honest, getting your mind scrambled would have probably been better than what did eventually happen to him in this episode.

Seriously, did this guy ever sell a painting that wasn’t a card? His portfolio would just be one person. And they do say that you shouldn’t make your portfolio too many styles but, damn, you can’t just do one person, unless your going to work for one specific type of video game, in which case sure just draw that one space punk chick over and over it seems to work for you.

Bakura decides to show up, and he’s very Bakura about it, introducing a new Bakura mechanic that I didn’t at all predict would ever be a thing.

Bless this storyboarder.

After showing off his weird tarot ability for no other good reason than to mess with Pegasus for a little bit, he decides to make me regret ever saying this necklace looked like it has five dicks.

I am so sorry, I had no idea! I had no idea it would be shooting lasers! What the hell, show?? What genre am I even watching anymore??

Also this whole concept that at any point these items can just shoot anime lasers and start a...whatever this trope is called, is so bizarre to me. They CAN do this...but they prefer to use cards.

They CAN do this, at any point, but they prefer to trap the souls of you and your friends in a card so you must play even more cards.

Or they can shoot you with a laser and solve their problems that way.

But why would they? They can like...play cards and do tarot and read minds and make card monsters real so who would ever want to shoot freakin lasers!

I do appreciate that Pegasus’ laser is pink like the salmon I chose for his font.

My bro argues that Pegasus probably sees just fine with the golden eyeball, but I feel like it can’t be the same, like a Spike Spiegal situation. It’s not like they ever tell us, anyway.

Him being alive for centuries is just never brought up for the rest of the episode. It comes up here and then Bakura’s like “Woopsie! Change the subject!”

Kid’s show!

As a kid an episode of the Rugrats freaked me the hell out--you know the one where Reptar becomes alive? I couldn’t take that one, it was terrifying. So maybe I’m not one to judge, because I was not a normal kid when it came to anxiety (in fact a legit phobia of dogs gave me pretty severe panic attacks on a weekly basis) but, it seems like Yugioh is a lot like brother’s Grimm because they are SO READY to cut off body parts, revive corpses, and overall gross me out, just to make a point.

Is it necessary? Eh.

But is it bizarre body horror we can stuff in this kid’s story? YES LETS DO IT.

With the way they set this up it looked as if they were just going to have them show up in the nick of time or something, but instead the show was like “lol, these kids? You’re kidding, right?”

He’s literally missing an eye and Croquet’s exact line was something like “he’s fallen ill.”

Also, I’m glad we got a cameo from Double-Spike Mohawk Mullet Man in this episode, giving Pegasus a fireman carry like a trooper.

So, because they can’t not, and because Pegasus’ security is only effective at random times of the day (they must have a lot of smoke breaks or something) the four decide to raid Pegasus’ bedroom. Why would you ever want to do this to the guy who was ritually sacrificing people the night before!?

Joey’s weird crushes on blondes that are...not in High School. Joey. Stop this. You are a child.

Anyways, Tea goes straight for the juicy stuff, because if there’s anything in this world that I would never ever want to read is a grown man’s journal filled with all his unfiltered thoughts.

Then we’re welcomed into a Pegasus Flashback, because why not make a tragic past even more tragic? Anyways, it’s OK because anime food lives here.

Bro called them gravity melons. I want to point out the party cups drawn from the side sitting on the round table we see from the top. Love it. Also realllllly love that guy with the mustache and glasses in the bottom right corner. There’s some good stuff here in this vaguely 80′s flashback.

Anyway, she totally dies. The flashback goes through things we’ve been over before--they get married, she gets sick, she turns into a rose and then becomes a grave in a really poorly kept graveyard.

And so Pegasus turns to religion. Yes, you read that right, He decides, he wants to find a religion that will explain afterlife to him, and he’s like I might as well start with the oldest and work up, so he goes to Egypt.

Uh...OK. I mean if you’re just looking for a religion with an afterlife you could have chosen...almost any of them. You could have stayed in America and like gone to...anywhere but, the guy was like “Mummies, youknow?” and went to Egypt although Cecelia is already dead and buried so it’s not like he can do the mummy trick to her now. It’s a little LATE?

My brother and I were so entranced by this bizarre hat, that we wanted to see if it’s ever been made real. AND IT HAS.

MARVEL AT IT:

IT IS VERY EXPENSIVE.

LOOK AT THAT DUMB HAT!

We checked Amazon for cheaper listings, but only found trucker hats with the Square Mason symbol on it, and Illuminati trucker hats like this one.

My brother wrote this note to them. I hope they read it and take it to heart.

Anyways, our newly found joy, held aloft by the discovery of perfect square brimmed hats was quickly sullied.

His hat is a transformer. But a round to square kind.

So in walks this guy. His name is Shadi. I’m telling you that right now because I want you to pay attention to how long it takes before we find out his name is Shadi. He is going to tell us his name at some point, and it’s very weird when it happens.

Pegasus doesn’t seem to realize it is not at all normal for a guy in modern Egypt to be walking around with this massive ankh on his chest (eh...you can’t see it in these pictures, but there’s a HUGE ankh just hanging around his neck) with earrings and pharaoh makeup. Pegasus is just that type of sheltered American. He’s like...well you look like someone from a movie so it must be legit. And that is how Pegasus decides to follow a guy who is clearly an ancient spooky wizard into an ancient death dungeon crypt.

I feel like Pegasus could have easily avoided this whole situation he got himself into.

Shadi has a whole speech about how the eyeball has a lot of power, and that he’s got to protect it all yada yada--but at the same time Shadi is like “BUT I gotta make sure some people use it so a lot of terrible things happen. You’d think I’d just...leave this stuff in this crypt so it’ll never be a problem and the world will never be cursed with terrible dark magic that was sealed away for thousands of years, but...I’m gonna make it happen anyway...and it’s not my fault...”

How many times has Shadi done this? It’s suggested that Pegasus is not the first.

It’s pretty gross, and while it’s done in shadow (which was a nice visual allusion to Shadow Magic), it’s still pretty gruesome for a kids show. To happen twice in one episode of this kid’s show, haha.

She calls him by his full name “Maxamillion” which made me realize he’s probably never shortened his name to “Max” in his entire life.

I’m glad Pegasus making out with a ghost happened on screen. This is now the most romance we’ve seen in all of Yugioh. Good.

So did Pegasus actually write the part where he made out with a vision, though?

I’m curious about how that process works. But, I don’t think we’ll ever find out.

Anyways, next time, on this very same episode of Yugioh:

Will Bakura stick this eyeball in he own eye or will he back out last minute and just hang it from his necklace and pretend it was there the whole time? Will Tea next read Pegasus’ food diary only to discover, in horror, that he drank upwards 60 liters of grape juice and far exceeded his daily calorie intake? Will security even realize these children have been snooping in all of Pegasus’ personal stuff for the past 30 minutes?

#Yugioh #yugioh recap #photo recap #s1 ep40 #tea gardner #yugi muto #tristan taylor #bakura #joey gardner #maxamillian pegasus #pegasus #cecelia #some weird psychic fight #with lasers #and then someones eye gets replaced on screen #square brimmed hat

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Withstanding The Test Of Time Ch2 - Shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - thank you so much to everyone who voted for me or nominated me in aqficawards!! i’m stupidly flattered and i love you all, this long one goes out to you and also to my lovely “clique” <3

Two excruciating weeks was the exact length of time Sharon was forced to stay in the Belli residence. Though she felt bad for it, she’d felt as though she was counting every hour until she was allowed to leave. Willam and Courtney were fun for nights out, and Farrah was cute in the occasional visit, but two weeks of domestic life in a suburban home had cemented a few new facts in Sharon’s mind.

One, Willam and Courtney were a disgusting couple. Since Courtney had worked from home for a while, she would see Willam out of the door each morning, baby Farrah balanced on her hip, both of them waving as he left. When he came home, she greeted him at the door with a lingering kiss and a smile, excitedly telling him about her day and listening to him talk about his. Their eyes seemed to sparkle whenever they looked at one another, and even when they argued – a domestic argument about washing up duties, no less – it still ended with kisses and hugs. All of this was within view of Sharon, stranded pathetically on the couch, unable to escape the suffocating atmosphere of love and family life.

Second, if she thought daytime TV was bad, children’s TV was infinitely worse. In fact, she needed to backtrack. Daytime TV could be quite enjoyable, and Sharon was partial to some Nancy Grace or Jeremy Kyle if the occasion arose. But children’s TV was quite honestly the most over-produced, artificial garbage her eyes had ever looked upon. If one more skinny, pig-tail wearing brunette grinned whilst inches away from the screen, or terrifying alien-like creatures pretended they couldn’t find their friends, she was going to explode. How could there be so many identical programmes on TV? Little Farrah giggled and clapped at all of them, thoroughly enjoying herself, and even whilst working Courtney would chuckle a little here and there.

Third, and possibly the most significant thing Sharon had learned, was that she was positive now that the soulmate life wasn’t for her.

Willam and Courtney were just so perfect. They were a hive mind – what one wanted, the other wanted too – and had this amazing team dynamic where things just seemed to get done equally, and fast. They were affectionate and beyond in control of their lives and twenty four years old living the American dream of sorts.

Sharon knew she wasn’t ready for anything like that. Nor would she ever be.

It was a relief to be back at work – and that was something Sharon thought she’d never feel. Despite hating her co-workers, being able to stand up on her own and be in an environment of entirely adults was completely refreshing. She probably shouldn’t have been in heels so soon after recovering, but it was really all or nothing. Surviving in the office with the Real Housewives of Office 7B was a fucking challenge, and the last thing Sharon needed was to deal with their obnoxiousness and be shorter than them. At the very least, she needed to match their stiletto-boosted height.

“Hey, Sharon Needles!” A lazy voice called. “You look so pretty today! I heard grey is a really in colour for fall this season. Seems like your corpse-spinster complexion will finally be cool.”

Kimora seemed impressed with her own read, subtly high-fiving Pearl as the other girls around them started to laugh. Honestly, it was like Sharon had suddenly regressed back into fucking high school, only these girls were richer, prettier, and smarter.

“Oh, fuck you.” Sharon dismissed her, ducking her head down on her way to her desk as the girls jeered at her lack of a response. She really didn’t have the energy to fight back against their cattiness, and the days usually went by quicker when she managed to grin and bear it.

Thankfully, no one pursued her, and Sharon made it to her desk in one piece. The surface was definitely tidier than she’d left it – the scattered pens had been replaced into their stands, the assorted paperwork was neatly ordered in a pile, and the endless amount of post-it notes that were stuck all around her monitor had been neatly stuck in a row along the bottom of the computer screen. By the looks of things, Sasha had taken the liberty of tidying her things whilst she’d been away.

That wasn’t the only thing Sasha had done. Carefully placed in the middle of the desk was a small card, most likely handmade, with Sasha’s swirly handwriting on the front. Sharon smiled briefly as she sat down, opening the card to read the sweet ‘get well soon’ message that had been written inside, along with a few scribbled hearts and a short message from Shea too. She made a mental note to thank her as she switched on the monitor, shuffling her chair closer and relaxing a little. At least Sasha wouldn’t make the day hell for her.

Sharon’s desk was right next to Sasha’s, which was a total polar opposite to how Sharon’s usually appeared. Her desktop was messy, disorderly, and stained with coffee. Her computer screen still had the generic company background, overshadowed by the plethora of tabs and documents that she had open, which she’d rapidly switch between during the rare times she was actually at her desk. The only personal items she had was a small bottle of sun lotion in her drawer and a former Halloween decoration that was supposed to dance once activated, but hadn’t worked in years.

Sasha on the other hand was the epitome of organisation. Everything had its place and was just so, prettily organised in colours and everything stacked neatly where it needed to be. She’d personalized her computer screen to show a photograph of her and Shea on a vacation to LA the previous year, and her desk may as well have been a second home. Sharon envied Sasha’s ability to make anywhere feel homely, but she imagined it was a skill the woman had been born with.

It wasn’t long after Sharon had switched on her monitor that Sasha arrived, professionally dressed with her own quirky flare and warm smile to match. She greeted Sharon with a lingering hug and one of her famous smiles, before sitting at her own desk to begin her latest article.

“I’m so glad you’re back, Sharon, it’s been so boring without you. The office feels wrong without you being here.”

Sharon suspected Sasha was just being kind – as was in the woman’s nature – but nevertheless she appreciated the compliment. With a wry smile, she ran a hand through her hair and nodded.

“I bet the bitches have missed me so much. Having to make their own coffee? Oh, the horror!”

Sasha laughed. “To think I had to deal with them alone, I can never come up with mean comebacks the way you do. I’m glad you’re doing better now, though. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard you’d been hit.”

Sharon hummed. “It was awful. Not so much the accident, but spending two weeks with Willam, Courtney, and Nugget. I miss my crappy apartment and being alone. I’m pretty sure being surrounded by happy families is only making me more and more certain that it’s not the life for me. I swear Willam and Courtney wake up happy. I’m a monster morning and night.”

“Oh, Sharon,” Sasha chastised jokingly. “I’m a monster too, you and me both. Monsters can be happy too, you know. It takes time and hard work but it can happen. And if you’re worried about…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting down to Sharon’s arm, still wrapped in a bandage but thankfully out of the sling. “…you know… you still have time. Things can change.”

Time. Sasha was well-meaning, but she couldn’t have picked a worse word to say. Fucking time. As if it wasn’t bad enough to hate timers, now the very word made Sharon dizzy and nauseous. Even when she’d had to change bandages or shower, she’d kept the accusing timer firmly covered, not even peeking at it once. She couldn’t bring herself to look at it.

“I-I… I don’t –”

Before Sharon could elaborate any further, a voice from across the room started yelling.

“Sharon! Hey! Sharon! Decaf, no sugar or milk! And be quick about it!” Sharon stood up to see Violet, a couple of rows of desks away, her sculpted eyebrows raised expectantly. Sasha rolled her eyes in sympathy.

Although she’d been half tempted to deliver Violet a fully caffeinated, sugary mug of coffee, Sharon had less of a death wish than her wilful running in front of cars may have suggested. For the sake of a quiet life, she kept her grumbling to a minimum as she played barista, watching out for stray heeled feet in case someone tried to trip her once again. Violet, as usual, accepted without any thanks and simply flicked her wrist to dismiss her. Normally, Sharon would have argued, but she didn’t have the energy.

“Ugh.” Sharon groaned, sinking back into her seat and continuing her pointless article about celebrity relationships – because of course, everywhere she went, the topic of love had to haunt her. “Fucking Violet. She treats me like I’m some eighteen-year-old intern with zero qualifications other than coffee-making. I fucking can’t with her.”

“She’s so rude, I have to agree. It doesn’t take any more energy to be kind than it does to be mean.” Sasha added thoughtfully. “What were you saying before she interrupted?”

Sharon blanched. “I – uh – not here. I don’t wanna… not right now. M-Maybe we can talk later?”

“How about lunch? We can talk then.”

For the most part, the morning had passed smoothly. Nobody else made Sharon chase drinks and documents – except for Gia, who asked for a drink and decided after one sip she didn’t want it after all – and she actually managed to get a little bit of work done. Soon enough, Top Ten Celebrity Soulmates That’ll Melt Your Heart would be published to the company website. Sharon was embarrassed to even have her name on the tagline; it was a poorly devised Buzzfeed parody-wank. Even the language used in the article was painful, the words having a gloriously artificial, joyful tone to them that was utterly foreign to Sharon’s dialect. Still, she reasoned, it had to be something.

Even so, her eyes had been constantly drawn to the small digital clock at the bottom right of her computer screen. The ticking of the wall clock in the centre of the room had seemed louder somehow, slicing through time with each tick. Sharon was suddenly hyper-aware of time passing, and everything seemed to be happening too quickly.

Sasha had left a few minutes earlier to collect her lunch from the communal fridge, and the office was empty with the exception of Sharon at her desk. She’d been mindlessly refreshing her emails, zoning out at the depressingly barren inbox, hoping someone wanted her to write something. Anything.

“Hey, girl. You wanna join us for lunch?” Sasha called, pulling Sharon out of her thoughts. She turned, spotting Sasha stood nearby with Mrs Taylor, one of the assistant managers.

After a moment of thought, Sharon shook her head. “I’m okay. I think I’ll just eat at my desk.”

Sharon ate at her desk nearly every day. It was lonely, and a little awkward, but she’d rather deal with the silence than the grating vocals of Gia, Kimora, Violet and anyone else who found amusement in Sharon’s discomfort.

Sasha seemed to murmur something to Mrs Taylor, and with an encouraging nod, abandoned the assistant manager to sit next to Sharon at her desk. She offered another of her warm smiles as she approached and fixed Sharon with her usual concerned gaze.

“Are you okay to talk now? If I’m pushing you then please let me know because that’s not my intention at all, I just want to find out if you’re okay. You seem quiet today.”

Avoiding Sasha’s gaze was impossible. The woman was so genuinely, sincerely caring that trying to hide anything from her just felt wrong. Sasha wanted to help. She was the only person Sharon saw on the regular who had time for her and her life.

Sharon pursed her lips as she tried to think of where to begin. “I… can you keep a secret?”

Sasha nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t talk about this, but I guess… You’re really the only person who takes the time to understand my stance on things… you don’t judge me, you listen. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Sasha placed a hand reassuringly on Sharon’s shoulder. “Don’t apologise, I’ll always be here to listen if you need me. I’m guessing this is about timers?”

Unsuccessfully, Sharon tried to control her involuntary wince. It was blatantly obvious that she’d reacted to the word, but thankfully Sasha was kind enough to ignore it and pretend she hadn’t noticed. Sharon knew there was no way she hadn’t – Sasha was easily one of the most perceptive and intelligent people she’d met, perhaps ever – but she appreciated her efforts in covering for her.

“Yeah. Yeah. Did yours… ever change?” Sharon bit her lip. “Other than just counting down?”

“Never.” Sasha shook her head. “It just went steadily down to zero, and then a month later I married Shea. Wh-”

Before Sasha could finish her sentence, Sharon swore loudly, cutting her off. Within seconds her palms had grown sweaty, her skin flushed red as her heart beat rapidly.

A month.

How could she have forgotten? It was one of the things Sharon despised the most, one of the laws she protested the most fiercely. So long as you were over eighteen, you had to marry your soulmate within a month of your timer reaching zero! The law had never been changed, regardless of how much Sharon and Bianca had poured their time into arguing against. How, how, how it had slipped her mind?

“Shit. Shit shit shit fuck fuck. Sasha! A month. A fucking month. Holy shit.”

She was trembling, hardly able to breathe. Sasha noticed her beginning to panic, her chest rising and falling too quickly, her breaths becoming short and shallow. She was becoming more and more frantic by the second.

“Here,” Sasha said quickly, grabbing Sharon by the hand and supporting her practically limp body as she dragged her towards the toilets. Once they were inside, Sasha furtively checking that the stalls were empty, she forced Sharon to drink from the small fountain in the corner and gently splashed her face with a little bit of water from the tap.

“Breathe, breathe,” She murmured calmly, rubbing soothing circles on Sharon’s back. “You’re okay, don’t panic. Everything’s gonna be alright.”

Sharon wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. She hadn’t even noticed, what with the water being splashed on her face, but the unmistakably hot, salty tears had started to flow beyond her control. She hiccupped slightly and rubbed her eyes, doubly certain that for once, Sasha was actually incorrect.

“No it’s not.” She sniffed. “I completely forgot. A month, I-I don’t even have that. Sasha, what –”

Sasha interjected as politely as she could. “Sharon, Sharon, girl. Take a second to breathe and think, you can do this. I want to help you.”

Sharon remembered one of her old high school teachers giving a famous lecture to the school. They happened frequently, they were boring, but one of them had stuck with her ever since it had happened. The woman had stood in front of everyone, leaning closely against the podium before her, and told them all about courage. She probably had rambled on for longer than Sharon cared to listen to, but at the very least she’d remembered the key message. All you need is five seconds of courage to get you into a situation. Then you have to push through it because you’ve made it happen.

“My timer ran out two weeks ago.”

You have to push through it.

Sasha listened intently, shock evident in her wide eyes, as Sharon talked. It was the first time Sharon had actually recounted the full story out loud, rather than mulling it over in her head like some sadistic form of self torture. It felt more than ever like the number two was haunting her. Two years had decreased to two minutes. She had a marriage approaching in two weeks. Soulmates were everywhere, the fundamental idea of two hearts joining to make one. When was one decided to be not enough?

It was happening. In a mere two weeks, Sharon would have to get married. She couldn’t refuse, she couldn’t not turn up, she couldn’t fight against the law she’d protested so often. No amount of signs or slogan t-shirts could get her out of this one. Whether she liked it or not – in this case, not – in two weeks time she would be a married woman.

At the end of it all, Sasha pulled Sharon into a tight hug and squeezed her, one hand rubbing her back as she let her friend bury her face into her blazer. Sharon had long stopped crying but that didn’t mean that she was calm by any means – her breaths were still shorter and quicker than ever before. Sasha herself bore no ill-will towards soulmates at all, but she took care to understand everyone’s view and knew just how deeply Sharon hated them. She knew her co-worker had been secretly hoping that those two years would never come, and now she had to get married in a fortnight. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how she was feeling.

“Do…” Sasha approached the subject cautiously. “Do you know who it is?”

Sharon shook her head. “I haven’t looked. I-I can’t. There still t-tape over it.”

“Right.” Sasha fell silent. “Can I?”

“A-As long as I don’t see it, I guess… But you can’t tell anybody. This – this has to stay quiet.”

It only took a moment for Sharon to close her eyes, roll back her sleeve and allow Sasha to peel back the tape and have a look. Once she had the name memorised, she covered the timer up again and pulled Sharon into yet another hug. They lingered for a little while longer that time, Sasha waiting until Sharon’s breathing had started to return to normal before releasing her.

“You wanna head back to the office? Lunch break is nearly over, you haven’t even eaten.”

Sharon shrugged. “I’m not hungry anyway. Let’s just go back.”

People were beginning to filter back into the office in dribs and drabs when the pair emerged from the bathroom. Sasha had done her best to help clean Sharon up, wiping away smudged makeup and tidying up her appearance, but it was still glaringly obvious from her red eyes that she had been crying. Regardless, Sharon sat down at her desk and waited for someone to give her an order, knowing she wouldn’t have time to get started on any work before the demands came flooding in. Meanwhile, Sasha was scrolling through a variety of social media pages and Google results, muttering under her breath as she worked.

“Sharon? Will you come here please?”

Just as she’d predicted. Although the voice sounded sweet, the owner of it was anything but. Behind her artificial smile lay a venomous tongue and her immaculately painted eyes masked a cold, unfeeling stare. Sharon rose from her seat and made her way over to the Latina beauty, mentally preparing herself for the faux niceness.

“What do you want, Val?” Sharon deadpanned, too drained to bother injecting a note of happiness into her voice.

“It’s Valentina.” She corrected, baring her teeth in her trademark perfect smile. “I need you to take these papers for me and deliver them to the managers on the top floor. Quick quick.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Which managers?”

Valentina’s eye twitched. “Mrs Moore and Mrs Hides.”

Sharon probably could’ve prolonged the strange, forced conversation between her and Valentina – for example, asking why she referred to them as Mrs Moore and Mrs Hides when everyone knew them as Peppermint and Charlie – but the few short minutes of it were painful enough. Valentina directed Sharon towards a tall stack of papers to the left of her desk and then tapped away on her keyboard with her long nails, leaving Sharon to lift the gigantic stack and attempt to balance it against her chest.

After staggering towards the elevator at the far end of the office, Sharon readjusted her stance so she could try and press the buttons on the wall, her chin steadying the mountain of files clutched precariously in her other arm. Once she’d finally reached outwards, she heard a snigger and a voice.

“The elevator is broken, by the way.”

Sharon didn’t even bother looking at Violet before making her way over to the stairs, cursing under her breath. She was in heels, for Christ’s sake, and trying to carry a ten-ton stack of filed paperwork on a recently-healed broken arm. Was there no sympathy? Then again, nearly everyone in the office was absolutely ruthless. Considering all they did was produce articles by typing at computers all day, Sharon had no idea where all the anger came from. Nevertheless, what she did know was that it was all directed at the fucking intern.

At the end of the long journey up the flights and flights of stairs that the office possessed, a red-faced, exhausted Sharon reached the top floor, managed to palm off the stack of papers to Peppermint’s assistant, and made her way down all of the stairs and into her seat before anyone else could heckle her to do something for them. She’d been given permission to leave work early due to her so-called precarious state, and if she could get through her last hour with minimal movement, her weakened legs would thank her.

“Hey… Sharon?” Sasha greeted her as she sat back down. “I hope you don’t mind that I did this, I looked up the name that’s on your timer.”

Sharon stiffened. “And?”

“Do… do you wanna know anything about her? I won’t mention any names if you don’t want me to.”

Sasha chewed her lip, looking so uncertain that Sharon relented. They were friends, after all, and Sasha only wanted to be kind.

“Okay, why not.”

“Hm…” Sasha pondered as she stared at her screen, choosing select pieces of information. “I think she works as some sort of counsellor, by the looks of things. She’s tall. Blonde, very very pretty…”

She trailed off, gently touching Sharon’s arm. “The two of you might get along really well. You never know until you try, Sharon.”

Sharon sighed. “What does it matter? I have to marry her in two weeks whether I like her or not.”

At that, Sasha fell silent. Part of Sharon wanted to be satisfied that her pessimistic argument had won, but she often relied on Sasha to help lift her mood when she felt down. Silence meant that there wasn’t a way Sasha could use her big brain to twist the words into something a little more positive.

She worked her final hour in a glum silence, fetching and carrying a little, but mostly chipping away at another small and pointless article. At least it was work, she reasoned. It was mind-numbingly boring, and more than once her mind wandered down to the accusing piece of glass implanted into her arm.

Tall. Blonde. Pretty. Admittedly, she did sound like a catch. If Sharon was allowed to date freely and love whoever she wanted, rather than be forced into marrying the name on her timer, she’d probably be head over heels for this mystery woman. But on principle, she found herself disliking the image in her head. It didn’t matter how striking her looks may be, it was wrong that they had so little time to know one another before the nuptial agreement took away their freedom.

As it struck one, Sharon gathered her things and hastily made her way out. Willam’s car was in the car park – which was confusing, since he hadn’t said anything about picking her up. He stuck his head out of the window as she approached, waving wildly and only ducking inside once Sharon had climbed into the passenger seat.

“Good afternoon my wonderful, wonderful best friend.” Willam said sweetly. “Thought I’d be a good Samaritan and drop you home, save you the effort.”

Sharon was instantly suspicious. “Alright, cut the sh-” She looked behind her, spotting baby Farrah in the baby-seat and hurriedly backtracking. “Nevermind. Why are you being fake nice, what do you want from me? What have you done?”

“Sharon!” Willam sounded affronted. “Don’t accuse me of wanting something from you! I would never do something like that.”

“Spill.”

“…Courtney is having a party tonight with some friends from her work and I need someone to be there that I can hang out with without wanting to die. Please show up or else I’ll die.”

Sharon started to laugh. Willam always cracked so easily, the pair knew each other too well to keep up any charade for longer than a minute. Even though he was laughing too, there was a hint of begging in his eyes as he started the car and begin driving towards Sharon’s apartment.

“Please? I won’t make you look after Nugget, I won’t bully you, you have to do this for me. Come on, common ground. I may have changed but I hate those women as much as you do.” He pleaded.

Sharon had to give him that one. Courtney worked as a marriage therapist, a unique and fairly well-paying job in their society. They dealt with ‘problem’ soulmate cases – anything from felons and victims to anti-timer people who found themselves trapped in a wedding band. In rare cases they allowed divorces to happen, for example if abuse or any other factors were causing harm, but most of the time the therapists worked through couple’s issues so they could be the perfect little soulmates they were intended to be.

In fairness, Courtney was one of the nicer ones. She wasn’t obnoxious about her own marriage, or her job, but some of the people she worked with were downright revolting. Even though Willam had changed his tone on timers since his had ran out, he still bore an old hatred for those therapists.

Sharon nodded. “Fine, deal. But –” She held up her index finger, ready to make her terms. “Next time the two of us go out and get fully smashed, you’re paying. Uber and all. And you’re not allowed to cop out at 11pm claiming that you’re needed at home. Deal?”

Willam grunted. “Deal. I hate you.”

“How do I need to dress for your fu – for your party then?”

Willam shrugged. “Just look smart, that’s all you need to do. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Shi – wow, you really are desperate for my company. It’s nice to be wanted. I’ll be ready by then.” Sharon snorted, a touch of sympathy entering her words.

“Great.” Willam finalized. “Now get out of my car.”

Seven o’clock rolled around depressingly slow. Sharon supposed that was the result of being bored and alone in a shitty flat, so she’d spent the last few hours taking her sweet time getting ready. It wasn’t like she was going to put much effort in anyway; Courtney would always upstage her and besides, the women she worked with were bound to make sly comments anyway. Willam owed her one.

Naturally, he turned up ten minutes late with a well-fitted suit and his hair neatly combed back, making Sharon’s short dress and black purse look ridiculously cheap – which they were. Before he pushed open the front door, he warned her of Courtney’s tipsy state, wincing as his wife pulled Sharon into a tight hug and thrust her into the room. Wine glasses were scattered around the place and predominantly women seemed to fill every space. Despite Willam’s attempts to tug Sharon into the kitchen away from the hubbub, Courtney insisted on forcing her to meet everyone before letting her go.

“-who else have I missed, hm…” Courtney stared around the room, trying to find a face she hadn’t forced Sharon to speak to yet.

“Oh! I know!”

And then Sharon saw her.

Tall. Blonde. Pretty. Worked in counselling.

Alaska.

All of the pieces suddenly came together.

“What a horrible first impression for a s-”

“Shh!” Willam hissed, cutting the girl off. “Whatever you do, don’t say the s word around Sharon. Look, she’s alive. Don’t stress, Alaska.”

It was so obvious now.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alaska murmured profusely. “I’m trying to stop getting upset. That’s such a bad first impression and they always say first impressions matter and I always wanted my s-”

How hadn’t she seen the signs?

“No, no, listen to me. I’m saying this because I care about you, Alaska, but I also care about Sharon. I hate having to burst your bubble because I know how you feel about all this, but Sharon does not feel the same way. Look, I agree with you, I personally think it’s dumb, but she’s extremely set in her ways. If you even wanna be her friend, you gotta tone it down.”

Of course.

Her vision tunnelled, her gazed fixed on the eyes of the woman who couldn’t help but stare back, transfixed. Her mind ran at a mile a minute.

Alaska knew. Courtney knew. Willam knew and had purposely kept it from her. In two weeks time, she was the one Sharon would have to marry.

“Excuse me.” Sharon muttered tersely, and dashed out of the room.

#purecamp #withstanding the test of time #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #sasha velour #willam belli #courtney act #witney #valentina #rpdr fanfiction #submission #soulmate au #lesbian au

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ruleandruinrpg · 7 years

Photo

CONGRATULATIONS, VIC!

You have been accepted for the role of FYODOR DRUGOV. Admin Em: Vic, your application was a true pleasure to read, from your plot ideas to your para sample, you took everything about Fyodor that I loved and ran with it! I loved your plot ideas, and I love your eagerness to challenge their comfort zone in terms of their relationship with Svetlana and Adrik as well as the sort of rings of fire the Darkling could potentially force them through. You perfectly described them as reactionary, and I can’t wait to watch them react. You have 24 HOURS to send in your account. Also, remember to look at the CHECKLIST. Welcome to Ravka!

OUT OF CHARACTER

alias: victoire / vic

preferred pronouns: she/her or they/them

age: 17

timezone & activity level: my activity level’s probably at an 7/10. timezone :: cst

current/past accounts: oh boy i haven’t touched my accts in a while tbh but this one has a pretty good rp sample even tho my boi weiss is totally different from fyodor lolol

IN CHARACTER

desired character: fyodor drugov

what drew you to this character? i read the first word and i was gone tbh !! i love the very essence of them, how they perfectly embody the idea that ‘beauty is terror’ and how they retain this feral sort of innocence. it’s deffo not the standard definition of innocence, but rather it’s the idea that they’re held apart from the usual amalgamation of human motives; there’s only a few desires for them and they’re all ideals that’re intrinsically tied to fyodor’s very being. there’s also a sort of intimacy that laces through their actions whenever they deliver death that i’m head-canonically very interested in, for it’s only when you have brought someone to the very brink and beyond that you truly begin to know them, and i believe that fyodor’s the kinda’ person who’d stare you in the eye even as they’re killing you. it’s very intimate, the way they kill, and oh they’re beautiful with their hand buried within the crush of human ribs. gives a new meaning to ‘the way to a guy’s heart is through layers of bone and sinew’.

imo they’re absolutely feral and would sooner bite the hand that feeds them than to roll over and show their belly, a creature not of civilization but of nature. despite their age, they have this childish sort of maturity hanging about them, wild curls framing an even wilder grin, but when they fall into battle, it’s like watching someone redefine themselves into a god, self-immolation apparent as they remake themself into something even more.

they’re a beautiful monster, passion and life ironically laced within their dark-haired figure even as they steal the fire from another’s eyes. they do everything wholeheartedly, throwing everything they have in a whirlwind of chaos at whatever they face.

god, they’re a total optimist though. they’re bright, even with crimson dripping from their hands. ‘i’ll make you look at me,’ vowed as those who were abandoned would promise rather than falling into despair, ‘even if i must sunder the sky itself.’ they fulfilled that promise with the gaping eyes of their late blood-relatives (family is something you choose) and the last picture that those they once called fathermothersiblings will ever see is their grin and crimson-stained hair. it’s ironic ‘cos their late family once tried to do everything to hide them from the gazes of any person that might’ve chanced upon them, and that’s also kinda’ like a pinch of their humor peeking out imo ‘cos god they’ve forced the family to look at this beautifully savage being, to see this death-beloved creature laugh at them and their attempts to chain ‘em. in the deaths of their late-family, they inadvertently caught the darkling’s eye.

and now? everyone knows their name, everyone can’t help but to see them. roll their name around in your mouth; it’s synonymous with death.

what future plot ideas did you have in mind? ok so i really think that fyodor’s not the kinda’ person who’d tie themself to someone/something they don’t know inside-out, and i’d love to explore what ties fyodor to the darkling (as unlike adrik and svetlana, their opinion of the darkling isn’t explicitly stated), to those they truly care about, and to perhaps even their duties in the first army and as a part of the darkling’s private guard- and through that also explore any moral boundaries that they might’ve drawn tbh like what gets them to feel so deeply they might rewrite their entire existence or redefine the gods or feel anything so poignant that they can only fight or drown. i wanna’ see them helpless for though death loves them, there are many things much worse than death.

i. let all of life be an unfettered howl :: if or when svetlana decides to grind fyodor and adrik beneath her heels for the ‘honor’ of the darkling’s regard, what would be fyodor’s reaction? they love her with all the fervor of someone who’s found family in people similar to them, and i don’t think they’d take well to betrayal. i wanna’ explore their reaction to this, ‘cos the first and only time fyodor’s felt even the slightest pangs of betrayal was when their so-called family exiled them to the first army (they wouldn’t have destroyed that upstanding grisha family if they didn’t harbor any feelings toward said family) and i’d bet that it’s really hard for them to develop ties that are merely shallow. so when they love, they love with this fervor that is not unlike the sun. on the flip-side, they’re not the kinda’ person who’d fall into despair or any such passive negativity; they’re someone who’s gonna’ cling onto a notion of action and fight and bleed and destroy for it.

ii. there are memories of snow, of rain, of sound that you cannot conquer ::what would happen if you chuck them at something that cannot be defeated? imo the darkling’s the kinda’ guy who’d be most likely to test his private guards and throw ‘em into situations that’d either force ‘em to grow or die simply ‘cos the darkling’s gotta’ have the best of the best yk? i wanna’ see fyodor thrown into a situation that sheer force and violence cannot solve; anything that’d force ‘em to grow as a person rather than as merely as a tool. failing that, i really wanna’ explore what ties fyodor to the darkling ‘cos i see them as someone similar to ira where they don’t take well to captivity (they’ve been shackled before & they’ve ripped even the ghosts of those shackles apart) so what would fyodor do if they realize that the situation they’ve been thrown into isn’t a situation that calls for their skillset under the orders of their ‘master’?

iii. my name in your mouth / a synonym for slaughter :: okay i can’t leave out ira tbh like b ro i am hyped about this connection like !! ira and fyodor are like twins from different wombs tbh & there’s this aspect of nature vs nurture that’s weaved throughout. they’re both absolutely wild and yet they’ve both found themselves leashed to the darkling through different ties. regarding their similarities & differences: fyodor’s family scorned them while ira scorned her family, they were both captives in their ‘families’: ira playing the mistress’ pet, fyodor playing the well-behaved dog in their own home, they both killed those who dared to assume control over their lives, and god there’re so many ? ?? okAY their dynamic has so much potential for ruin and the ‘redefining of gods to something they could devour’ kinda’ stuff i am so hyped

would you be willing to have your character die?: yeah, totally if it’s for Plot !!

IN DEPTH

in character para samples:

Calloused palms press against the ripples engraved into the edges of the roof as they hum a light tune, hazel irises affixed to the layer below them. They’ve returned to this house, this gilded cage of betrayal and deceit, and god, nothing feels better than having the ability to finally destroy these false gods. A snarl paints its way across their features as they curl their hands into the contours of the rooftop. In one of those rooms, they’d been forced to endure the captivity of a pet, humoring their ‘masters’ day by day by day, until those same ‘masters’ deigned to exile them. (though, that wasn’t to say that they didn’t find the attempts of their so-called family very funny at the time.)

The arch of an ankle tucks itself into the crook of the other knee as they prepare to ram through the veiled window behind them (the trouble with manors is that there’re too many roofs and too many rooms, but luckily Fyodor knows all of the family’s haunts). Their expression morphs into a grin once more, hand moving to ruffle through dark curls once before bracing themself against the slant of the roof. The length of their body coils before-

-shattering through the window, a wild laugh spilling from their lips at the sight of affronted surprise that quickly becomes terror. “Hello, my dear family,” rippled from their lips in a lilting greeting, “aren’t you happy to see me again?”

They catch a glimpse of one of the younger ones raising their arms in preparation for an attack, and they click their tongue. “That’s a no-no,” cheerful even as they dash towards the girl, clawed hand already ramming through her soft stomach and gripping the bones of her spine. A tug, and they’re etching the picture of the girl’s terrified eyes into their heart before pulling the length of the structure through her gaping stomach. “The quickest way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach,” quipped even as their other hand slashes at the other’s soft face, bleeding wounds appearing where their metal claws had been, dripping down a smooth cheek.

A pause as they grin down at the corpse. One down, three to go- They bounce lightly on their heels as gold-green irises survey the room, tongue touching against the rippled roof of their mouth in a click of mock-disappointment. The others had dispersed, and Fyodor shakes their head in a mockery of a sigh. As their head dips back up, hazel eyes are glinting with an unnatural sort of glee, laughter dripping in strains of blood throughout the map of their veins. “I guess I’ve gotta’ hunt you all out,” radiance in the curve of their mouth as they scoop out an eye from the cooling corpse.

They’re totally gonna’ throw this eye at the first person they hunt down.

character headcanons:

i. using sortinghatchats’ system, they’d be either be a slytherin/gryffindor or a gryffindor/gryffindor; it’d depend on how they’d react to situations that betray their internal moral compass, ‘specially if the ppl they’re really close to were the ones who’d betray that. i’d love to explore that tho tbh

ii. fyodor’s really impulsive; they’re the kinda’ guy who’d suddenly decide one day to only use windows and roofs to travel. they honestly don’t care about the opinions of other people in relation to themself tbh which can be both a strength and a weakness

iii. bro they’d totally know parkour and various forms of martial arts/combat; their most preferred style though is something they’ve created outta’ all that mishmash, but it’s also a highly reactionary style.

iv. yk the saying ‘some people make months of planning seem like the work of a moment and others make the work of a moment seem like it took months of planning’? yeah, fyodor’s the latter. it’s not that they can’t plan; it’s just that it’s always easier and more efficient for them to just react.

#accepted: fyodor #raraccepted

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