violetviolxnce

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[violetviolxnce-a]

MOVED!

I have moved off of a sideblog and to a proper blog over at violetviolxnce. 

Follows, mentions, etc. won’t show up for a few days until Tumblr purgatory ends. I’ll be moving a few things over in the meantime.

[violetviolxnce-a]

MOVED!

I have moved off of a sideblog and to a proper blog over at violetviolxnce. 

Follows, mentions, etc. won’t show up for a few days until Tumblr purgatory ends. I’ll be moving a few things over in the meantime.

[violetviolxnce-a]

MOVED!

I have moved off of a sideblog and to a proper blog over at violetviolxnce. 

Follows, mentions, etc. won’t show up for a few days until Tumblr purgatory ends. I’ll be moving a few things over in the meantime.

[violetviolxnce-a]

Write with me 😭

[kommiekat]

[violetviolxnce-a]

Brutal P is a freaking Japanese ghost at this point so if you want a spooky thread for Halloween hmu

[violetviolxnce-a]

feixing02‌:

She’d been rummaging through the supply closet that night trying to find some paintball rounds when the hallway went dark. Power outage? The mild concern spiked into panic when she heard someone’s approach. The aggressive words didn’t do much to help either. At that point she was already busy assessing her exits, the bullets she was rifling through shoved randomly back onto the shelf. She had her board, for what it was worth.

“I didn’t know,” her voice is cautious, hesitant. She doesn’t recognize the woman, doesn’t know if her question was rhetorical. Does she even want a reply?

“They sort of just told me I was going to be working with two other companies.” There was a little more, obviously. Vague language talking about construction, demolition, and communication. But she hadn’t planned out what to say, and the drag of the axe cuts her words short.

There isn’t much offense taken from the harsh words. Some of the mercenaries used to call her useless, and that’d been more damaging because they were colleagues she looked up to. Satellite doesn’t know this lady, and is more concerned with an appearance of a stranger and the immediate danger of a weapon.

She is afraid, but her logic is taking over again. The pitch darkness of the base makes it impossible to navigate on her board. It’s too narrow indoors to go very fast, and without sight she’d surely crash. She knows the layout well enough to run alright though, if she keeps a hand on the wall. But outrunning a very confident threatening lady didn’t sound easy. So instead she holds her board to her chest with two hands, one finger tickling the ‘on’ switch. Axes are metal, right? An idea is forming in her head. Satellite would be the first to admit it’s a huge stretch and pretty stupid on top of that.

‘But then,’ she reasons a little helplessly, ‘I might not have to do anything. She might just be a normal lady who doesn’t actually want to kill me.’ She adjusts her grip, not allowing her nerves to spike. Until something else undoubtedly not good occurs to her.

‘Wait, does power outage mean re-spawn is off?’

The thought that the creature approaching Satellite is normal would be dashed once she passes beneath the ominous aura of an emergency light, its lazy spin washing the figure in orange ochre. 

A petite figure, dressing in black boots and a black leotard, leather harness holding two guns close to her ribs. 

But it’s not that that makes her seem strange in this place. It’s the mask. The jutting gold teeth of some sort of demon, the red-rimmed, bulging porcelain eyes and horns pulling forward like a raging bull. Only the thin gap between gold teeth allow her to be heard, and even then, it’s not very clear. 

The revenant’s ax screams across the concrete behind her, dragging again the floor until she heaves it up into her hands, skulking closer to the other woman.

“I didn’t know,” she mocks in a sing-song voice. “How someone as ignorant as you hasn’t been hacked to pieces yet is a small wonder.”

There’s a beat where her form seems to flicker, the orange light washing over her in the dark. When it spins around a second later, the Brutal is no longer there, vanished.

Until, of course, her face is next to Satellite’s, staring down the side of her head, the dead eyes of her mask boring a hole into her temple.

“Well. Maybe today’s the day.”

[violetviolxnce-a]

@obliiviscatur

Children will sometimes, when they need a parent in the dead of night, stand over them ominously, in hopes that their mere presence will be enough to rouse them from slumber. Expecting some psychic paternal link to summon them to know, ah! my child has a nightmare!

But Miss Pauling is not a child, and she arguably never was.

Though arguably, she isn’t really Miss Pauling anymore, either.

How she snuck into Vanguard’s fortress without Fetch’s help is not a mystery to her, but to him, it may be startling. Navigating the many mazes and deadly traps would be a harrowing experience even for her, someone familiar with traversing them.

But as it is, she is here, though…changed.

Pauling stands in the dark by Fetch’s bed, her breath barely making a sound. She holds both hands empty and relaxed by her sides. Her expression flat. Why come at all? 

Perhaps because…

No, don’t think about it.

“Atlas.”

Shannon says it firmly, not whispered like a child trying to avoid imposing. Her tone is still somehow soft, though, even if her gentle spirit had been beaten from her. 

She waits, and, if he does not wait, she will repeat his name.

[obliiviscatur]

In perfect darkness he feels it stalking and lays perfectly still. He breaths in shallow breaths, squeezes eyes shut under the ruse of sleep. The hand beneath his pillow creep slowly towards the handle of a gun. There are phantoms that stalk the night, wisps of regrets and memories that take shape. But this thing is real and how it got pass every trap and defense is concerning. When he feels the encroach of his space Fetch acts, thumb clicking down hammer and taking aim. Movements are swift, untainted by promise sleep and dark patches settle heavily beneath the eyes. Inhuman eyes widen meeting something much more monstrous that dares to wear the skin of a someone long gone. The gun remain level between her– its eyes every instinct telling him to squeeze the trigger and end its existence. Act. But it wears her face.

His skin crawls when he sees her, and she speaks his name tearing his heart from his chest right into his throat promises to tear what little of his soul asunder. 

There is danger. A sudden heaviness to the air, and she at the center of it all. The hairs on his neck rise. Yet the dog doesn’t bear its teeth how could he? It’s her. 

“Who are you?” He knows the answer, doesn’t want to believe it. There’s no playful banter to his voice, no boyish charm, but something raw and too frail hidden beneath usual lenses and a confident grin. She was gone, every file said she was dead. She is dead, a voice warned. What struck him the most like a silver knife to the chest was she was here– she was here, but different.The silent question lies at the tip of the tongue, unvoiced. What are you? 

[violetviolxnce-a]

She almost smiles when Atlas levels a gun at her in that breathless dark. Good boy. She keeps it to herself and instead keeps her form familiar in its rigidly, as if she were merely working mental gymnastics for supply forms as she once did.

The stark shift in his behavior is not lost to her. He lacks that youthful spirit, the jovial arrogance that was altogether charming and irksome. He was scared. Horrified, even, because even now he must know her as a corpse.

"Shannon. It's not a trick." comes the reply. Why bother with him?

You know why.

"She hid the full truth from you. I knew she would." Nothing in her, even in the dark, seems to regard his weapon with concern.

"Put that down and we'll talk."

[llumineer]

Rinko Kikuchi

[violetviolxnce-a]

Shannon’s tattoos change slightly every so often. Not noticeably, because she likes to keep the same basic pattern and style. But being a glitch and not really alive, her dying isn’t always predictable. Sometimes when she comes back from a death, they are still there, and sometimes they’re not.

She doesn’t really mind having to get them again, because she enjoys the pain of getting them, and she can certainly afford to, but it does take up a lot of time, and that’s irritating.

She also has to switch artists.

[sexlessrpmemes]

Reblog this if I have permission to come into your askbox IC at any point if my muse has a question for yours.

[hipsbyfleetilya]

Chain Belt

[violetviolxnce-a]

matchlessquality‌:

His lack of reaction to her scars probably speaks volumes about just what he’s seen. Even the graphic depiction of her head blown open only has him biting his lip in sympathy. He decides he’s going to believe her, and maybe that’s foolish of him, but he doesn’t want to second guess everything she says. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s sincere, which is probably quite shocking from somebody like him. He knows how fake fashion designers can be, and maybe that’s part of why he keeps many of them at arms length. 

“I can offer you no advice, but as I said, my door is always open and my kettle is always here. Even if I’m with a client, you can use whatever room is free if you need some time.” 

He’s going to make her look terrifying, he’s decided. Of course she’ll look stunning, and sleek, but he wants her to scare anyone that might do her more harm. 

Shannon pulls back, tsking softly. “I don’t need the sympathy.” 

She stands, gesturing to the mask on the table. “You can keep it for now. When should I come back?” If she’s appreciative of Teddy’s kindness, she isn’t showing it. After all, the revenant feels very little, and that includes being touched by his hospitality.

This is business.

“And I assume I owe you some sort of deposit.”

She paces around the table between them, briefly hovering over the perfectly-kept man. There’s something unwavering in her gaze, something calculated but not cold. Not exactly. Stoic, perhaps. 

Shannon looks away. 

“Thank you for listening. I haven’t said that much to many people. Anyone, really.”

[violetviolxnce-a]

@nastypieceofwxrk

“You ought to be. As stubborn as I was, you worked hard.”

[nastypieceofwxrk]

“I can work you over even harder now, Love. Til death do us part.”

[violetviolxnce-a]

"Who knew you were such a romantic?" she's laughing, mostly. "I think you know I'll always come back for more."

[violetviolxnce-a]

@nastypieceofwxrk

"You ought to be. As stubborn as I was, you worked hard."

[violetviolxnce-a]

NSFW ask: Which excites you more, killing or being killed?

She has a knife in her hands, and her fingers bloodying as she plays along it. Shannon smiles to herself, amused by the question. "They're both exciting. But there's nothing like the high right before brain death, right?"

[violetviolxnce-a]

like if u noticed my new theme ʕᴥ• ʔ☝