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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‘ hey — keep your voice down. ’ he already knows exactly where this is going. ‘ shut the door. what’d you hear about mills ? ’
❛ screw you ! don’t tell me what to do ! ❜ spat out in that same caustic tone, gaze pinned. she’s beyond reasoning. furious with him, with the entire department for covering this up. ❛ joe mills is a piece of shit, but he ain’t the pied piper !i saw him, holder, with my own two eyes! he slit my fucking throat, killed kallie, killed all of those girls and you’re just gonna let him fuckin’ walk ? ❜
“ i got you. it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.”
she’s not scared. she’s terrified. she feels blood pooling in her mouth, the spaces between fingers as she clutches her throat, the open wound warm and wet. it doesn’t stop bleeding and she can’t breathe without choking, she can’t see anything but black. pitch black, darker than night.
he’s coming. he’s coming and she can’t escape him, can’t move, can’t open her eyes because she’s afraid he might be watching, afraid he might be waiting for her to face him like a man instead of a coward.
her lungs are aching, ready to burst. he’s coming. white stipples behind her eyelids. he’s coming. she hears the click as he pops open the trunk, drags her out. he found you. she belts out a scream, thrashes herself awake and pulls in a breath, several more in quick succession until her head spins.
❛ skinner –––––– ❜
swathed in cold sweat, struggling to calm down. there’s no use in pretending she isn’t still fucked up and desperately trying to cope with the trauma. the impact it had and the memories it left behind. she touches the scar to remind herself she’s alive, because sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. sometimes she thinks she’d be better off dead and rotting six feet underground.
❛ you can’t tell anyone. please don’t tell anyone. ❜
‘ you just gotta think about it like — it’s brain versus brawn, right ? homeboy’s got the eight ton bite force but they still got his punk ass outnumbered, and they got the smarts. ’
❛ small, but savage. ❜ bullet can relate. been in a lot of fights, kicked a lot of ass. even had her own handed to her once or twice or maybe three times, depending on perspective. ❛ just goes t’ show, it don’t matter how hard you sock it to ‘em if you ain’t smart about it. ❜
‘ yo, if i got that kinda stuck, i’d be out of a job. even the most prolific pieces of murderin’ shit make mistakes, you feel me ? ’ like skinner did, when he gave his daughter a ring that was last seen on the finger of a dead girl. ‘ — shooter thought he was doin’ the larsens a solid by settin’ things right. some fucked up type of vigilante justice or whatever. everybody thought richmond was good for it. ’
the fabricated surveillance photo still stirs up a residual bitterness, like sediment at the bottom of a lake, but that whole debacle is another story for another time. seattle’s glorified integrity candidate might have turned out to be a world class sack of dicks ; that doesn’t mean he deserved what happened to him.
‘ you ever SEEN linden lose her temper ? like, for real ? got the crazy eyes, veins poppin’ — ain’t a good look for her. ’ he’s pokerfaced until he’s not.
he does remember confronting the kid, though : the one who only got off scot - free for that little home movie because sterling never cried rape after the fact.
meal prep more than half - finished, he brings her drink over as an afterthought — holds it out of reach when she makes a grab for it, pausing for effect before setting it down on the coffee table. she looks better. not a hundred percent, but better than she did a week ago.
‘ watch y’self. what i should be doin’ is whippin’ you up one of them protein shakes. a li’l kiss of hemp milk, some ground - up flaxseed, handful of baby spinach. breakfast of champions. ’
❛ bullshit. peeps get stuck all the time. just gotta work around it, you feel me ? ‘cause life –––– it’s like one big labyrinth. if y’ hit a dead end goin’ one direction, turn around and go another. kinda what this police work’s all about, ain’t it ? di - rection. ❜ she knows enough to have an informed opinion, somewhat. not about policing and investigations, but about life. as most kids her age like to think. ❛ the hell’s wrong with vigilante justice ? if the pigs ain’t doin’ nothin’ … ❜
she too thought richmond was good for it. even suspected the bottle - blonde for a while. but after time, she forgot about the dead girl, just like the rest of the world, until a public broadcast was aired and cold hard cash was promised for new information. then, everyone knew rosie larsen.
❛ nah, homegirl always kept her cool around me. think she’s got a good look, huh ? play on, playa. ❜
bullet sinks back into the cushions, left foot kicked up on the coffee table, right leg still hooked over the armrest and knocking against the side of the couch with the heel of her boot. ( she can’t count the number of times a teacher or authoritative figure demanded she sat like a lady back in boarding school. )
she reaches out for the glass, only to abruptly sit up with a clenched fist when he holds it out of reach. might have socked him in the gut or somewhere a lot more unpleasant if he hadn’t surrendered the sunny - d in time.
❛ that’s disgusting, yo ! save that shit for your nasty old health nut girlfriend. where is she, anyway ? ❜
‘ alright — chill, li’l man. nobody’s hatin’ on dr. role model. you wanna be a vet, be a vet. i got faith. ’ it’s a lot of schooling, but she’s fifteen. she has her whole life ahead of her. ‘ raptors ain’t even jurassic. they went full - on cretaceous up in that bitch, already rockin’ a pack mentality. used t’ stake out ponds and rivers ‘n shit, ambush their prey. get like 20 of ‘em riled up at once and they’d take down some major players. ’
faith. that earns a smile. it’s small, but it’s there. you can see it in her eyes. ❛ ––––– no shit ? how big are we talkin’ ? like, t - rex big ? ‘cause that is a lot of food for only twenty turkeys. ❜
‘ whatever, dr. dee : alaska vet. i see you fillin’ up the dvr with that shit. ’ that, and my cat from hell. ‘ it’s all live ‘n let live ‘til they ain’t been chowin’ down enough. smell blood in the water — boom ! feedin’ frenzy. and they get all batshit crazy protective of those eggs, man. like, uh — velociraptors, you know, they keep their shit tight. look out for their own. ’
❛ yo, don’t be a hater ! dr. dee is awesome ! she was alive ‘n kickin’ back in the sixties. ‘n she had this older brother who wanted t’ be a vet, but he was killed in ‘nam so homegirl went on t’ live out his fantasy life ‘n became one of the best freakin’ vets in alaska. i’m gonna be like that one day. ❜ helping those that can’t always help themselves. always soft around animals. ❛ raptors are pretty bomb. jurassic park had ‘em screwed up, which sucks ‘cause they’re supposed t’ be all smart’ n shiz, but they’re just glorified turkeys. ❜
‘ necrosis, son. death by enzymatic degradation. s’ just a fancy way of sayin’ it fucks up your neurotransmitters ‘til they ain’t transmittin’ no more. hell yeah, piranha’s got mad jaw strength — i saw this thing on national geographic where they were like, testin’ its bite or whatever ? said those suckers chomp down harder than a great white. bite force thirty times their body weight, ain’t that some shit ? ’
❛ ––––– whoa, whoa, whoa. hold up. that’s what you do in your spare time ? watch national geographic like some crusty old dude in an old folks’ home ? ❜ an opportunity presented itself and she’d have been damned if she didn’t take it. ❛ anyways, you know all them stupid hollywood movies about piranhas attackin’ people? hella exaggerated. they’re pretty chill about stayin’ in their lane unless you’re fuckin’ with ‘em or baitin’ ‘em like some kinda freakin’ dumbass. twitch would probably lose an arm. ❜
❛ no one. it don’t matter. just piss off, alright ? ❜
gaze cuts from the bathroom mirror, washrag pressed to the split in her lip. the basin is stained, streaked with blood spat from her mouth, and an air of bitterness punctuates the silence between them as she pulls back the cloth, tonguing the wound as if expecting it not to pulse and ache beneath even the lightest amount of pressure. she never forgot how it felt, to bear so many cuts and bruises at once. but if he thought this was bad, he should see the other guy.