un. independent rachel olmstead ( bullet ) of amc's the killing, diverging from canon after 3.07. deux. this blog is for writing and entertainment purposes only.
material.
un. my writing will, at times, be trigger heavy. i'd advise you not to follow if you're sensitive to topics such as rape and assault, violence, etc. deux. some things will be tagged, others won't. if you need something tagged, contact me. i tag triggers with ' trigger / ' or ' trigger mention / '.
muse.
un. bullet is not an easy character to get along with. she's abrasive and confrontational, hot - headed, and has lived on the streets for upwards of two years. i won't water down her scrappy personality for anyone's benefit. deux. if her attitude becomes an issue during our thread, we can always plot something else out.
shipping.
un. the muse is canonically homosexual and presumably homoromantic, so there will be no f/m ships unless they're platonic. deux. given that bullet is fifteen ( and a victim of recent violent sexual assault, ) smut is unlikely.
following.
un. i'm very cautious with who i follow on this blog because i prefer to have a quiet dash. if you don't have any writing on your blog, i won't follow you back. deux.if you're writing with users who make me uncomfortable, i'll immediately and quietly unfollow, or refrain from following period. these users are blocked and blacklisted for a reason. i don't want them on my dash. trois. i won't follow purple prosers because i can't understand what's being written half the time.
verses.
un. multi - verse and crossover friendly. deux. current timeline takes place during her recovery after being beaten and left for dead in the trunk of a car. she sustained severe physical trauma, flatlining three times in the twenty-four hours that followed before slipping into comatose for nearly three months. details are still a work in progress.
❛ I GOT MORE BALLS THAN YOU!
name. rachel olmstead. aka. bullet. age. fifteen going on sixteen. gender. cis female, she/her pronouns. date of birth. october twenty-eighth. residence. seattle, wa.
appearance. slightly malnourished, weight fluctuating due to living on the streets for nearly three years. stands at five feet, three inches ( on a good day. ) sports jet black hair with a streak of dark blue in the front, often looking greasy and dirty, with the sides and back shaved close. wears men's clothing. always looks on the brink of catching a cold.
( previous ) living conditions. squalor. she hung around skid row during the day, and squatted wherever she could at night, mostly in abandoned buildings or at beacon when beds were available. maintained at least a semblance of personal hygiene, but her stained smile told a different tale. clothes rarely saw the inside of a washing machine.
current timeline. parents are currently fighting against child protective services, but because of their negligence and abandonment ( knowingly allowing their child to leave home and live on the streets ), have been stripped of legal custody. after being discharged from the hospital, detective stephen holder was granted temporary guardianship of bullet until she's well enough to be put in the foster - care system.
bullet has every intention of getting the hell out of dodge as soon as possible to avoid this happening. accustomed to the lifestyle of living on the streets, she would sooner die than let an adult have authority over her. despite her extensive injuries, she can still be found roaming skid row, attempting to regain the trust her affiliation with the police shattered.
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it’s asking too much from a fifteen year old who needs someone to blame. he gets that. but she’s preaching to the choir. once realization had finally set in, nobody wanted to see skinner burn more than he did. there are things he doesn’t say : like how he’d wanted to kick down the door to the mayor’s office at city hall when linden told him what happened. like slamming his head against a church partition and demanding to know where the fuck their almighty god was now. like using again.
he’d tell her if she asked. it wouldn’t make any of this right, not even close, but he’d tell her if she asked.
his chair sways back and forth, rocked by the motion as he presses the ball of his foot against the floor. a tic, one of many, developed over time. jesus, he’s tired.
‘ whatever. you wanna be pissed at me, fine. you wanna blame me, go ahead. linden sat in that room and gave ‘em a fucking confession, and that prick richmond just — up ‘n threw it back in her face. you pickin’ up what i’m puttin’ down ? we didn’t make that call. i never wanted it to go down like that. ’
she doesn’t blame him. if anything, she should blame linden. for playing judge, jury, and executioner. taking the justice right out of all those girls’ hands. to understand would be to see the bigger picture. from the perspective of a cop who committed homicide and covered it up to save their skin. the department would have been in the hot seat and with all evidence pointing to joe mills, how were they meant to prove that lieutenant james skinner of the seattle police department’s homicide unit was responsible for raping and murdering an upwards of forty young girls ?
bullet can’t see it from that perspective. she can’t see it from the perspective of a cop because she isn’t one. she’s a loose end he couldn’t tie. ( a victim, the only survivor who lives to never tell the tale. ) she’s fifteen and she’s angry because that’s easier to process. to express.
❛ linden. ❜ she scoffs, upper lip curled in a sneer of disgust. anger, hatred, contempt. the holy trinity of a teenager’s emotions. ❛ should’a told me. wouldn’t’ve had t’ hear it from some grommet punk askin’ ‘bout joe mills ‘n sayin’ i wasn’t his type. ❜
‘ it’s the adrenaline. slows everything down ‘n speeds it up at the same time. ’ something else that doesn’t need explaining, to her of all people. ‘ boardin’ school don’t sound half bad, playa. i bet you aced that class without even tryin’. hey, yo — dogs are the bomb, no doubt. grew up with seven of ‘em, you know, pitbulls. you wanna talk about pickin’ your battles ––––––– ’
❛ ever heard them whack stories about moms lifting cars up off the ground t’ save their kids ‘cause the adrenaline’s pumpin’ all hardcore ? didn’t believe poochie when he told me, just ‘cause he likes t’ exaggerate shit, but f’ real, it can happen. ❜ something about adrenal glands and using more percentage of muscle. ❛ boarding school was fuckin’ lame. full of yuppie bitches. … pit bulls are badass, yo ! how’d you take ‘em all on a walk ? you get like, seven leashes ‘n take ‘em all at once, or what ? ❜
‘ that’s how you work a case, son. don’t mean i be gettin’ my ass stuck at every turn. ’ she’s right, though. it happens. sometimes it’s unavoidable. sometimes the pieces just don’t fit, no matter how many permutations you’ve tried. he lets out a low scoff, mixing bowl in hand. ‘ see, that’s the problem. people get impatient, think we ain’t doin’ our jobs, when all they got’s a thumbnail of the whole picture. richmond didn’t kill nobody. now he’s never gonna walk again. that seem right to you ? ’
he spares no compassion for darren richmond, not after how the skinner incident played out, but the bottom line is the same : it’s dangerous for everyone when somebody decides to take the law into their own hands with only a fraction of the information. a lot of people have it coming. he’d go as far as saying that a few DESERVE it. but that’s not one person’s call to make.
not belko royce’s. not his. not even linden’s.
‘ yo — ! don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth. she’s just a li’l easier on the eyes than cueball carl or jank - ass jablonski, that’s all i’m sayin’. ’
there’s a click as he turns on the stove, taking the opportunity to turn his back and hide the smile. when she mentions caroline, however, despite it being offhand, he wheels around again with raised eyebrows.
‘ ain’t my girlfriend no more. we had, uh — irreconcilable differences. ’
in other words, the relationship didn’t make it past her calling bullet a statistic.
shoulders rise and fall. ❛ wouldn’t know. never been a cop. ❜ lost in translation: has only witnessed the true horrors of mankind from a street rat’s perspective and never once stopped to question how it might differ from a detective’s, because she never had to. ❛ ain’t gotta get all political on me, damn. i just think that sometimes you gotta do what you think’s right ‘n screw the system. ❜
the system doesn’t give a shit about you, so why give a shit about the system ? nobody seems to have the answer and she’s tired of waiting. vigilante justice might be the last justice this world has left to rely on. and so, while she believes what happened to darren richmond shouldn’t have, she can’t blame someone for wanting vengeance.
maybe she doesn’t have all the facts. maybe belko royce was just a nutcase. maybe this, maybe that. gaze drops to examine the beaded necklace that’s been fashioned into a bracelet and adorning her wrist. begins toying with it.
❛ hell yeah, she is. cueball carl looks like one of them dudes off the office ‘n jablonski looks like he’d be jerkin’ it on a train behind a newspaper. … ain’t lookin’ good for you either, with that goddamn pedo ‘stache. ❜
a pause. she looks up, brows furrowed. ❛ shit, bet you just ran her off. ❜ like she did with lyric. ( she blames herself for that. pushed too hard and moved too fast and ended up losing her to that low - rent punk. it still hurts, seeing them together. knowing they left her behind and moved on to live a better life. ) ❛ what’s it with these chicks, yo ? can’t live with their crazy asses, can’t live without ‘em. ❜ the voice of experience.
she looks like hell. hooked up to machines, wired in like some kind of goddamn circuit board. ripped that fucking iv out of her arm at least three times in the past forty - eight hours, once by accident, twice on purpose. her previous attempt at escaping this white - walled, antiseptic - smelling hellhole fell short, and the time before that, she was cut off at the elevator. but even if she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have made it very far. might have even passed out.
the doctors tell her it’s a miracle she’s fully cognitive, and all she can think about is getting back out on the streets where she belongs. away from pigs, away from so - called medical professionals who keep poking and prodding her and asking all these questions.
she spits in their face every time.
holder’s the only man left standing who hasn’t been met with a cutthroat attitude tonight, but that’s because it’s late, and she’s tired. it’s the morphine drip. keeps her from being able to rate her pain on a scale of one to bullshit. mouth forms a tight line, eyes squeezing shut as she strains to sit upright, pauses for breath, then swings her legs over the side of the hospital bed and attempts to stand.
❛ t’cht. whatever. ain’t ever stopped me before. just need t’ get my socks ‘cause it’s fuckin’ freezin’. ❜
‘ damn right. s’all about strategy, knowin’ how to pick your battles. see, ‘cause they ain’t that different from us. ’ he doesn’t have to tell her that. bullet knows how predatory people can be. ‘ — so you’re gonna be a vet, huh. i’m guessin’ you’re a dog person, too, am i right ? ’
❛ ‘cause we got them survival instincts. that fight or flight shit. ❜ she thinks back to the afternoon beneath the bridge, on the outskirts of tank’s squat, where she thought she might find kallie. about how she chose not to fight that battle because she knew the odds of walking out unscathed were slim. and that’s intuition. ❛ been the dream ever since i was a li’l kid. took all them classes at my boarding school ‘cause i thought it might get my foot in the door or somethin’. … yo, who don’t like dogs? ❜
she stares back at her sister blankly, at a loss for words as her eyes dart between the cigarette & the younger girl, clearly not at all concerned about her being in her room, rather what she was doing there. her room was clean, for the most part —– but that was only because she barely spent any time in it. all she really cared about now was that her sister was being reckless ( something she expected out of her but HOPED would calm down given her current condition ). ❛ rachel, is this some kind of idiotic prank? you can’t smoke right now! ❜ she said, quickly moving over to her to tug the cigarette out of her hand, as if she had any kind of real authority over her. ❛ can you maybe just try to deal with ONE bad thing at a time —– like, i don’t know, that bandage on your neck, ❜ she said, her tone slightly mocking as she pointed towards her neck. ❛ you survived, you’re not invincible. no smoking, ❜ she repeated, but this was all because she cared about her sister. she had lost her for so long —– now that she was finally back, she wanted to know she was SAFE, & she was prepared to do whatever she had to to ensure that.
her sister’s bedroom looks a lot different, but somehow still the same. the same personal touches that made it so unmistakably audrey jensen. the same purple fucking walls she used to hate. bullet’s seemed all too impersonal by comparison. it belonged to a ghost. to rachel jensen and the girl she used to be. not the junkyard bitch who’s been staying there. she prefers audrey’s because she hated it a little less than her own. felt at ease despite how it changed, but didn’t know how to say that. and even if she did, she wouldn’t have bothered. ❛ yo, don’t tell me what to do ! ❜ it puts a strain on her throat to even raise her voice above a conversational level, but she manages with only minimal struggle. ❛ give it back, ya thievin’ ass punk ! i’m not playin’, yo, c’mon, this ain’t funny ! ❜ makes a grab for the appropriated cigarette at least twice before giving in, waving a hand in dismissal and taking a step back to lean against the windowsill. ❛ you ain’t gotta give me a speech, a’ight ? you’re all worried ‘n shit. i get it. yo’ room, yo’ rules, blah, blah, blah. ❜
‘ i’m not. ’ he wouldn’t. not about this. not about anything. when he sinks back into his own chair, it’s restless ; agitated. his tone isn’t much different. ‘ son of a bitch played us from the jump. he’s the one who cut goldie loose, he’s the one who had us chasin’ our tails to track down joe fuckin’ mills — me ‘n linden, we got too close. figured out it was a cop. skinner had internal affairs snatch my ass up right after, that’s when we should’ve known. ’ a pause. the strong urge to light a cigarette. ‘ linden, she, uh. she saw the ring. kallie’s ring. he gave it to his own fuckin’ daughter. by the time i went after ‘em, they were up at lake sawyer — that’s where we found kallie and the others. he was on his knees. unarmed. baiting her, you know. he wanted her to shoot him. so she shot him, twice. we got rid of the body, covered it up — richmond’s the one who wanted mills to go down for it. pinned it all on him like this was just some bullshit political play. you keep this between us, you understand ? i don’t got a choice. ’
she doesn’t interject, not once, but she wants to. she still has questions that need answers and she doesn’t trust him to plug in all the details. but by the time he’s finished, the string of queries would just prompt a reiteration of what he already told her. she swallows and it feels a lot like shards of glass are sticking in her throat. what is she supposed to say ? two weeks ago, she felt trapped between a rock and hard place. finding out that she would never get to see kallie again was a truth that bullet wasn’t ready to process.
now, she’s forced to come to terms with the fact that the one who killed her will never be brought to justice. his name will never be absconded. it isn’t fair. not to kallie and not to angie and not to all of those girls at the bottom of the lake and all of the ones yet to be found. ( joe mills isn’t an innocent man. he deserved to rot. but not for a crime he didn’t commit –––– not as the pied piper. )
❛ screw you, holder. ❜
it’s all she can manage when her gaze rises, full of hurt and betrayal and all different shades of emotions that those girls would never get the chance to show again.
damned if there isn’t a part of him that wishes it was bullshit. those few weeks — months — with her in a coma, coupled with trying to cover up the death of a decorated police lieutenant ( responsible for the rape and murder of at least forty young girls ), were some of the worst he can remember. ‘ linden shot him. you want the full story ? sit your ass down. ’
what that jank - ass cabbie did to kallie was sickening to watch. ( her skin crawls just thinking about it and she wants to climb out of it, scrub herself clean.) but joe mills isn’t the man who targeted and terrorized those girls on the streets. he isn’t the man who stuffed her in a trunk with a throat slit open, a collapsed lung and broken ribs. the anger she once felt may have tempered, but she wants an explanation. figures he owes her that. ❛ don’t fuckin’ lie to me. ❜ a word of warning before sinking down into the chair behind linden’s desk.