vuulpecula

[vuulpecula]

✖ @lionvisor cont.

Her arms are crossed as she listens. Body leaning against the stone instead of seated, for if she sat, she was not sure she'd want to rise again. Nor that her legs would lift her. Fox could see that same exhaustion in the features of the Inquisition's Commander, the way he moves. It is a weariness she knows they will not soon shake.

"You need not thank me, Commander Cullen." Fox mirrored his smile. "I believe in second chances," and third and fourth, even a fifth and sixth depending on the situation. "And you are more than deserving of one. Rash decisions are made when people are scared and, as you know, there is more than enough fear to go around." The edges of her mouth faltered for a moment. "It is easy to believe that we think correctly in them, to fool ourselves, as you said." Despite the history, others had counseled her to be wary. As if their Commander would turn toward their enemy, more concerned with the safety of the Inquisition than the people who lived and breathed within it. She could not do the same. To abandon those who had stood beside her as the sky split apart--that felt more like the enemy than he ever would.

"All I ask is that you continue to speak to me. Our world may be falling apart, but that does not make what might be happening in your mind, in your heart, any less important."

[vuulpecula]

✖ @ofchiralium inquired: “He left his shadow behind. I see it walking sometimes.”

southern gothic sentence starters | accepting

"Devils tend to do that." Fox answered simply, a shrug raising one shoulder. "Angels too sometimes." Ghosts of the past drifting in shadows, always in the corner of the eye. If you turned quick enough, you might just see it clear enough to know for sure. "Why do you think you're seeing him now?" Or maybe he was only telling her about it now. That would be worse, something for her to chew on later. Her own sort of shadow.

[vuulpecula]

✖ @rickgrimesdoingrickthings cont.

"H-H-He came out of the other room," Fox stammered. Staring at the blood coating her hand and the knife still held within it. At first she had thought him un-dead, but the wildness in his eyes had scared her even more than she could voice. He had been waiting in there, or taking an opportunity, she wasn't sure, but now he was dead. Really dead. There would be no coming back for him.

She wiped her hand across her mouth, streaking the stickiness against her skin. "I had checked every room, we had checked every room. I don't know how he got in." There was a difference when it came to killing walkers. They were human once, but they were long since dead. It wasn't the first man she had killed either, but that had been done with bullets and at range. Not like this. Where she could smell his breath, feel it hot and rancid against her mouth as he tried to over power her. She had reacted in much the same way as if he had been a walker about to shred her skin from her bones--maybe he was.

Her wide-eyed gaze flicked to Rick. "We need to check on everyone else, we need to make sure that they're okay." Her hands were trembling, flicking the blood from the dripping knife over the floor. "I don't know how he got in."

[vuulpecula]

✖ WISHLIST / WANTED PLOTS POST.

THE HUNGER GAMES. tributes? victors? one is reaped one stays behind? capitol vs district? mentors? currently reading sunrise on the reaping and it's just got me thinking that we could make things worse. :) any timeline.

TOP GUN: MAVERICK. why did i watch this movie and why did i enjoy it as much as i did. lbrh i've always been a hoe for fighter jets. okay okay okay but two main versions of Fox: 1. Spectre - Russian defect, left under mysterious circumstances, does her own maintenance, flies like a ghost on the radar, does NOT get along with Cyclone in the slightest. will take a hit to keep a team member from going down. probably managed to get the tiniest, scratch of a hit on Maverick during the first training dogfight. 2. Chicken-Shit - raised south of south, poorer than poor, grew up watching planes take off overhead and always wondered if they could go faster. joined up because it was the only way she'd ever get out of her home-town. is a good mechanic but does so by always using the wrong parts. talks to planes like they're alive, another pet someone might have. always has a loose screw or bolt in her pocket that she'll give you if you need some luck. quick to smile and laugh, but even quicker to make sure no one messes with her team. flirts with everyone like its a sport like 'go easy on me, first dates make me nervous' before the first dogfight. has definitely broken the training sim. ANYWAY, i just think it'd be neat. could be au crossover too--i mean we know i love an x-wing. also this could work for any timeline or time period too.

TWISTER(S)/WEATHER RELATED: am i still on my weather/storm chasing bullshit, yes i am. all i'm saying is that there is something special about the atmosphere of a waffle house or a super8 after its stormed so bad that there are telephone poles down and the whole place smells like creosote. ( see this post for a little more info ).

THE WALKING DEAD. specifically the earlier seasons, there is something about the aesthetic of those that just has a hold on my heart forever. but honestly, just the decay of the world and the abandoned places. Not yet knowing who you can trust and who you can't.

BIOSHOCK. in the same vein of the decay of the world, seeing Rapture? traveling through it or even a before the fall thread and an after. hell even if we made up our own lighthouse our own man our own city. the taste of salt and rust always in your mouth. the creak and groan of the ocean pressing in on the walls, the windows, maybe seeing creatures swim by the windows that you never should've been able to get that close to. another one i think would be neat for atmospheric purposes.

SQUID GAME. if only squid game world was coming to our little screens. but after the end of s3, we know others are out there so why not just add more horror and terror and delicious pain and suffering for our muses, y'know? AND AGAIN WITH THE SETTING STARBUCK. there is something so eerie and perfect about it. the too large rooms, the rooms that have too many doors and too many hallways and the ceiling feels too low, the stairs upon stairs upon stairs. the scent of blood always lingering even before any has been spilt.

[vuulpecula]

✖ WISHLIST / WANTED PLOTS POST.

THE HUNGER GAMES. tributes? victors? one is reaped one stays behind? capitol vs district? mentors? currently reading sunrise on the reaping and it's just got me thinking that we could make things worse. :) any timeline.

TOP GUN: MAVERICK. why did i watch this movie and why did i enjoy it as much as i did. lbrh i've always been a hoe for fighter jets. okay okay okay but two main versions of Fox: 1. Spectre - Russian defect, left under mysterious circumstances, does her own maintenance, flies like a ghost on the radar, does NOT get along with Cyclone in the slightest. will take a hit to keep a team member from going down. probably managed to get the tiniest, scratch of a hit on Maverick during the first training dogfight. 2. Chicken-Shit - raised south of south, poorer than poor, grew up watching planes take off overhead and always wondered if they could go faster. joined up because it was the only way she'd ever get out of her home-town. is a good mechanic but does so by always using the wrong parts. talks to planes like they're alive, another pet someone might have. always has a loose screw or bolt in her pocket that she'll give you if you need some luck. quick to smile and laugh, but even quicker to make sure no one messes with her team. flirts with everyone like its a sport like 'go easy on me, first dates make me nervous' before the first dogfight. has definitely broken the training sim. ANYWAY, i just think it'd be neat. could be au crossover too--i mean we know i love an x-wing. also this could work for any timeline or time period too.

TWISTER(S)/WEATHER RELATED: am i still on my weather/storm chasing bullshit, yes i am. all i'm saying is that there is something special about the atmosphere of a waffle house or a super8 after its stormed so bad that there are telephone poles down and the whole place smells like creosote. ( see this post for a little more info ).

THE WALKING DEAD. specifically the earlier seasons, there is something about the aesthetic of those that just has a hold on my heart forever. but honestly, just the decay of the world and the abandoned places. Not yet knowing who you can trust and who you can't.

BIOSHOCK. in the same vein of the decay of the world, seeing Rapture? traveling through it or even a before the fall thread and an after. hell even if we made up our own lighthouse our own man our own city. the taste of salt and rust always in your mouth. the creak and groan of the ocean pressing in on the walls, the windows, maybe seeing creatures swim by the windows that you never should've been able to get that close to. another one i think would be neat for atmospheric purposes.

SQUID GAME. if only squid game world was coming to our little screens. but after the end of s3, we know others are out there so why not just add more horror and terror and delicious pain and suffering for our muses, y'know? AND AGAIN WITH THE SETTING STARBUCK. there is something so eerie and perfect about it. the too large rooms, the rooms that have too many doors and too many hallways and the ceiling feels too low, the stairs upon stairs upon stairs. the scent of blood always lingering even before any has been spilt.

[vuulpecula]

✖ @reverdies cont.

She did so love mysteries and perhaps that is why she had struck up such a conversation with another in the rain drenched inn. A wayward point nestled deep in the wilderness that offered some amenities of home. Though the tea was not as sweet as she preferred. Honey had helped, but a majority of it sat still spread with butter on a piece of toast left uneaten, nearly sticking to the paper she'd been reading.

"Mm, I believe it to be a possibility." Fox nodded thoughtfully. "Spy, ambassador, they are glamorously named positions, are they not? One would think it would afford them a completely different life, and in some ways it does, but they are not so different from a man who works for a factory." She waved loosely toward the others, the travelers, the explorers, the writers, the scientists, the newlywed couple who seemed awfully close to divorce. "They are no different to any here who may work for someone else." Perhaps it was too big an idea, one far too elaborate. There were people in her own country who would likely spit at the mere notion of it. Call her cynical or spoiled, but that didn't make it any less true.

"It may seem like you matter, but once they are done with you. They do not care what happens. You mean nothing in the end." She sighed, moving the paper to again find her neglected toast. The honey and butter having chilled enough to congeal together. "You either fight to regain that meaningless position, come in from the cold, or you accept it. Time will tell with the ambassador." She'd much prefer exile, of course, to the lead tipped alternative.

"Forgive me," she continued after a moment. Distracted within her own revelries as she took a bite of the cold, crumbling toast. "You did not sit there to receive an earful of conspiracies, I am certain."

[vuulpecula]

A house. In the middle of nowhere. Within nothing and no one. How long until another like him came along? Despite his many, many flaws, at least she had had someone there with her when the nights grew dark and too quiet. A witness to whatever might come crawling out of the wilderness. Now, if someone else came to rob or worse, it'd only be witnessed by her and whoever acted. She could die alone in a place like this. She'd need to get rid of this place, find a room somewhere in town, if she could find where he'd put the money. If there was any left.

"You do not enjoy seeing innocent people suffer, but you know not the homes in which you steal." She wasn't accusing him, she was far too tired to do that. It didn't matter. No one was innocent anyway. "I thank you for that, stopping him, as you say." Even if it left her with bloodstained floors and a dress she'd have to burn. Fox pulled her knees up beneath that same dress, resting a cheek against the skirt covered bones.

"Fox." No one called her by her actual name, it was almost as if that name belonged to someone else. The girl who chose to stay where the ice lay thick. "Or Miss Alkaev if you prefer." Everyone else had called her as much. "I am not. I am from Russia." It was lucky her English was passable, better at times. When first she'd arrived it had been hard and headache inducing, but time spent with society women in New York had helped her grasp it better. Not even they could get rid of the accent, however.

"Leave it. I will take care of it in the morning." He had said he didn't want to see innocent people suffer but she was not as innocent as he might think. "What is your name, outlaw?"

"I..." It was clear to Arthur how right she was, and how his actions indeed didn't seem to make sense. Oh how he wish he understood why he felt the way he did, how he acted the way he did, but most times, the reason behind what he did and what he felt weren't very clear. It had been so many things...he didn't even remember what got him that way. "Yes, well, robbing...the house...not...you...necessarily." Arthur lit a cigarette, pondering about things. Poor woman. All alone with that other crazy bastard. He wondered for how long she had been suffering in his hands. "I hadn't seen you. It's a house in the middle of nowhere, ma'am. I intended to wait and break in once you were both asleep or if you left. Not that...it makes it...less...bad...I guess." He sighed. Yeah, he was a bad man.

"Yes...men are...awful. Most men. That's for sure. The nice ones seem to die too early for their own good." He had to agree with her. His father had been an asshole, Dutch had betrayed him, Bill, Micah...they were purely...bad and cruel. Even the good men in Arthur's life weren't truly good people. Hosea used to steal from others and Sean was a murderer. John too...and Javier. "I...I don't like seeing innocent folk suffering, ma'am." He muttered as he dragged more from the cigarette. "I'm an outlaw but I'm not sadistic. I think. At least not to...good people. I...I don't know...I just thought I had to stop him."

And now he was looking at the house he meant to rob, but he felt sorry for her. "What's your name? And where are you from? You don't sound American." He was so glad she could speak English. "Well I think...I should remove that corpse from the house and...clean off all that blood."

[vuulpecula]

✖ @arthurmorganrp cont.

Shrugging, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulder. Focusing on the grass, the dirt, the bugs crawling around as if the world hadn't just stopped. "Men out here aren't what they claim to be." Her husband-to-be had been evidence enough. And the stories of the others traversing the plains, robbing, destroying, setting fire to anything and everything just because they could.

"You were thinking of robbing me, taking something that isn't yours." She had so little left to give, he wouldn't have found much. "It does not make sense to me why you have changed your mind." Fox ignored his other questions, mainly because she didn't want to think about it. If she thought about it, she would have to think about how truly alone she was now. Letters could be written, but there was no telling how long it might take to get an answer. If she could make it to Saint Denis maybe she could find one of those new telephones, but that meant the people she was trying to contact would need to do the same. She'd crossed an ocean for this god forsaken land and it had taken everything she brought and more.

[vuulpecula]

so beautiful, the space between a painful reminder and a terrible dream...

independent & private multimuse featuring muses from off campus, IT, stranger things, we were liars, and original muses!

written by mj. ©

[vuulpecula]

"Mm," Fox hummed with a nod. "Maybe secret wasn't the right word." She wondered what it would be like to be an open book, to have nothing you didn't want anyone else to know. Was it freeing? Was it scary? All that vulnerability. Of course, many people found hospitals scary and others found them to be the most fulfilling places to work.

"I only meant I wouldn't tell anyone. I wouldn't gossip or whatever. Not that we really have time for that." People still made time, of course. With a small huff of laughter, she shook her head. "Nevermind, forget I said anything. I was just..." Overthinking? "How's your shift been?"

Fox said to Mel, ❛ say what you want, and i’ll keep it a secret. ❜ // @vuulpecula

Mel frowns. "I don't like secrets."

She tries to avoid oversimplifications like these. Black and white thinking is troublesome. Maybe it's why she likes being a doctor so much, falling into clinical algorithms and step-by-step procedures. Of course, there are exceptions - patients who don't fit into flowcharts and the human body is inherently complicated and confusing. Still, she likes, at least, that she knows the sort of challenges to expect from medicine.

She clears her throat. "I mean that I'm open book. I don't have secrets." Which is true, too. Mel might not share most of her personal life, but none of it is purposefully hidden.

[vuulpecula]

Like watching a magician perform a magic trick--now you see it, now you don't. His pill was swallowed and she was satisfied, for the moment. T-Dog did the same and was rewarded with her tight, thankful smile. He mumbled something about wanting to check on something, to which Fox told him to come to the water after--take someone with you if it gets too dark or wait for us to come back--and followed Shane into the woods. Down the path they were beginning to carve as a group through the thicket. Hardly wider than a deer trail.

It was second nature now, to look over the others constantly for signs of distress. Or maybe it was a compulsion. One she fought against as he made it to the water. Offering him privacy as she watched the ridge-line instead. Scanning the long perimeter for any signs of the dead. Arms crossed, never quite relaxed. Listening to the thrum of the cicadas and the subtle splashes made by the water that fell from Shane's hands.

Her gaze shifted back to him when he spoke. Lingering only briefly on his face for the pink rivulets running down his throat were far more concerning. That damn cut opened again. "Mhm, okay." She'd take one, maybe, if she remembered. There was too much to do and sure, taking a single pill--as Shane had expertly shown mere minutes before--took no time at all. But, there was so much to do. If she kept busy, it wasn't as noticeable. It was the moments like this one, when standing still, that she couldn't quite tell if it was cicadas after all, or the TV static hum of the headache.

"Look alright," she affirmed, stepping down from the slight rise in the ground to the bank. "Lift your chin for me, then I'll tell you for sure." She kept a small cache of first aid on her at all times. Nothing serious, a few packs of alcohol wipes, some gauze, a tiny travel neosporin she'd found in the glove compartment of an abandoned car, and of course band-aids. Bright pink, dotted with flowers. She didn't want to think about where she'd found those.

Fox didn't ask permission as she touched his jaw with one hand, peering at the cut that reopened. Holding him still with the same firmness a doctor might. Or a mother. It didn't look terrible, but it didn't look good either. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that--the perimeters and all." She answered his other statement as she turned him slightly to get a better angle in the light. "I don't think its a good idea, staying here. I know we have water and food and sort of shelter, but we're out in the open. You're right, we ain't safe here. We need walls." She sighed, she'd already talked to Daryl. In a way. Hadn't gotten much but a grunt of agreement in return. "Of course I'll be your backup, but Shane, we can check those perimeters a hundred times an hour, it's not about something happening or not, it's about when."

She let him go long enough to mess with the pack at her hip, returning with an opened alcohol wipe as she held him steady again. "This might sting." Gently, she pressed the wipe over the cut, trying to clean it without reopening it further. "I'm not sure the others are ready to hear that. They think we're safe." But they weren't. Not even close.

Kind and courteous, one of the most selfless people that lived within the camp grounds, the concern that Fox showed to Shane was touching, expected. Only known for a short period of time, days that no longer were separated but blurred together as one, her reckless desire to take care of others before herself was honorable. An attribute that Shane couldn't hold anger toward - the scared trove of pills were priceless and heavy within his hand - the faintest gesture of an eyeroll to be noted. Done more so in play than actual agitation, a smirk betraying everything, the bottle top was popped before Fox. A witness for the special occasion; the bag crumpled into a ball, tossed into the pile of trash that had collected just near the fire pit, a singular capsule rested on Shane's tan palm. Exposed for all to see, for Fox to be assured in, swallowed dry without an ounce of water. Raised eyebrows and a look of impish arrogancy, the pill bottle handed off to T-Dog for his share. Nearly yanked into place by Shane, the sleeve of his cotton shirt, as commanded by the woman of the hour, the camp's devoted warden in watch.

Actions repeated, with T-Dog savoring his own chalky relief, a bitter, bite sized tablet to ease the pain, the sore muscles and ache, Shane nodded to Fox in the direction of the lake. Was satisfied with what he and T-Dog had done, felt confident that Fox was pleased, too. Smiled as so, the expression upon his face boyish. Two pills used, another 358 remaining, it wouldn't be long until the group was in need of more. Always in search of supplies, never settled nor at peace; the end of the world came with a price that Shane paid every day, every hour. A flash of horror within his eyes, no amount of hunts beyond camp would keep them safe forever. Doctors were more so soldiers than medical personnel. Hospitals became homes, amongst the rubble, the shattered windows and concaved ceilings. Health was in everyone's own hands, then. What could only be mended with the most fundamental understanding, the most basic of survival knowledge, despite what Rick insisted, Shane knew better. Had seen it with his own eyes. Could taste it still on his tongue - their friends and loved ones weren't safe out in the open. Prey just waiting to be attacked, pounced on and pulled apart, once he came to the edge of the lake, Shane knelt, cupped his hands, and began to rinse his hair.

Cleaned it, though he was without soap or shampoo, washed away the memories of the past hours. Tried to, the sight of so many young children with gray in their gazes, misty and hazy. Mouths wide open, attempting to feast, pinned by metal and scrap that the building had gifted them. Little boys and girls still, alone and without their parents to so much as comfort them. Backpack straps hung upon their shoulders - skin white, bones fractured, surrounded by death. Glass bits falling into the cool waters below, Shane ran a soaked palm across his face. Squeezed his eyes as shut as he could, breathed deeply through his nose, pressed his lips into a thin line. Stomach full of nothing but the simple dinner of yesterday, crackers and thinly sliced cheese, the pill that soothed some pain but encouraged others. He was so tired. Scared, wasn't sure how many more of the undead he could stand to see, to have to put down.

Droplets dripping down his neck, where the bridge of the nose had just been wiped, too, Shane turned his head to Fox, who stood guard just as was promised. Poised and tall, determined to remain true to her word. Wouldn't allow for the kids to come near - to see Shane bloody, a mess in the worst way, was a burden that none of them deserved.

"When we make it back up," Shane said, scrubbing the underside of his jaw, a nasty cut that was split open again in the scuffle, lake tainted red. "You better hold up to your end of the bargain. T and I took our dose, it's your turn, Fox. Ain't no reason for you to be hurting. Don't you tell me that your headache has gotten any better, either. I can see it on your face."

"About them Walkers wanderin' around, I'll have me and Daryl scope it out after supper. They're getting closer now, probably more comfortable. They know dinner's just around the corner. I don't want anybody goin' beyond the set perimeters until I or Daryl say so. It ain't safe, Fox, and I don't want the kids running around there. God forbid somethin' happens... I'm gonna need you as my backup in that, okay?"

Sniffling, his eyes landed on her, a tone much less dire, a small smile.

"What you think? Look alright? Think I got just about all the glass out of my hair, some of the old damn wall, too. Still can't believe that the place was standin'."

[vuulpecula]

✖ @deficd inquired: …without a motive. (( from mulder ))

fifty ways to kiss someone | accepting ↳ 37. ...without a motive.

Dana had left an hour before, leaving the two of them to pour over maps and photographs and testimonials. The endless stacks of evidence, the conspiracies that were causing her head to ache. Or maybe it was the altitude. Fox--Alkaev--told her to drink water and rest. They'd sift through the boring bits.

"Every new page makes me think that there really was no rhyme or reason for why the police chief stuck everything in this file." Fox stated, not for the first time, as she spread out the paperwork across the borrowed table. They'd return it to the lobby tomorrow. She rubbed at her brow, trying to make sense of it and why that same police chief was laying beneath the closed manila folder of an autopsy report. What within these pages had brought about his death or, at least, why was he found with this folder? "I mean what does this fly have to do with anything?" She waved a testimonial of a woman who swore she had seen sacrifices in the woods but was far more concerned with a fly she swallowed. She died shortly after, but she was sick before that.

"Maybe we aren't seeing the rhyme." There was a cocky way in which he said it, smiling in that disarming way he did. Edges too soft with exhaustion. If only Scully had stayed, then she'd have someone else to share an eyeroll with.

"Obviously." The roll of her eyes paused halfway through. Eyebrows and lids rising. We aren't seeing the rhyme. The rhyme. Fox nearly knocked half the documents to the floor as she pulled out specific pages she'd known she'd seen. Scanning over them quickly, her heart pounding in her ears. Fly. Spider. Bird. Cat. Dog. Cow. Horse. The tiredness that had been making her limbs feel leaden lifted.

He was leaning over the table, trying to see what she had, but it was clear it hadn't yet clicked. It was the break they needed, the one they'd been searching for for a week. Without thinking, she grabbed his face and kissed him hard. "Mulder, you absolute genius!" She let him go just as quickly, pulling her coat from the back of her chair. "Genius! It's a rhyme! They're all rhymes, that's the pattern. It is a cult." It didn't register she'd just kissed him--the excitement needed someway to exit her body. It felt fitting enough in the moment. "I need to go to the library, I'll be back--check on Scully!"

[vuulpecula]

✖ @d1nker inquired: ∞ + 23

send in a "∞ + a number between 1-30" & i'll write a starter based on that song in my "on repeat" playlist | accepting ↳ 23. Father in a Bible - Jonas Conner

She took a long drag on the cigarette, tipping the ash over with her pinky. Ignoring the burn. Ignoring the way the smell of Camels, nearly warm against the chill of the evening, reminded her of home. Rot and mildew had the same effect. "I refused to wear those empty boots he left," she spoke after a moment. Nodding toward the boots she had unceremoniously dropped into Harry's hands.

"I swear I'd trip and stumble like a whiskey silhouette." The filter was back between her lips, hanging looser as the corners of her mouth raised in a mock smile. It wasn't a happy shape. Far too cold and bitter to be anywhere close. "Figured someone should get some use out of them."

[vuulpecula]

✖ @deficd inquired forever ago: "Grief" -- ragnar :'')

askbox clear out | 2025 ↳ send ‘grief’ for a drabble about my muse grieving when yours has died.

Snakes had never looked the same after what that wretched King had done. Spit on his name, piss on his grave. At least Ragnar's sons had their revenge. She had not. There had been nothing to temper the grief that lay shrouded over her like the silk upon her head. Casting the world grey.

His family, those who loved him, seemed satisfied with the blood that was spilt. They continued to their boats, to their wars, while singing songs of the long dead Ragnar Lothbrok. She was not as forgiving and she did not forget. Killing his killer would not bring him back--no, the Gods required more than that. They did not answer with prayers, they answered only in sacrifice. Sacrifice she did give.

Northumbria would burn.

Churches and great halls. The places were men like Aelle thought themselves safe. She held their faces to the flames and reminded them that their Hell was not in their books. Their Hell was a woman asking the Gods for more time. Leaving ash and ruin in her wake. The great artifacts of their religion melted and smoldering in puddles of gold.

Townsfolk whispered of a witch, soldiers refused to believe, and still the fires consumed. Until even Aelle's own castle was little more than charred stone. It mattered not to her who was inside, innocent or not.

The Gods would have blood.

She would have blood.

[vuulpecula]

send in a "∞ + a number between 1-30" & i'll write something a starter based on that song in my "on repeat" playlist.

[vuulpecula]

😎 - Why did you choose your mun name? Does it mean something to you? ✏️ - Why did you choose to write your muse(s)? 😍 - Do you have a specific character type that you usually find applies to your favorites? 🌟 - What was the first fandom you remember Rping for? 🐱 - Do you have any pets? ✒️ - What sort of hobbies do you have outside of writing? 🍿 - What's your favorite movie? 📺 - What's your favorite TV show? 🎮 - What's your favorite video game?

✖ munday questions

😎 why did you choose your mun name? does it mean something to you?

a lot of people assume it's because of an affinity for the coffee giant starbucks, but actually it's due to my absolute adoration for battlestar galactica's kara thrace . her call sign is starbuck and i don't know, it resonated with me. she's a character that i endlessly admire and as cheesy as it is, i felt seen while watching her. another deep cut is starbuck from moby dick, which i have never actually read but i liked the idea that my name came from both the sky above and the ocean below. idk just felt poetic, y'know? (& flapjack is also a little nod to sailors/the sea/moby dick soooo it's all connected lol)

✏️ why did you choose to write your muse(s)?

fox came out of nowhere, she just lived inside my head and i had to get her out into the world. it's funny, i've never had a huge want to write canon characters, i've always wanted to write something new to explore the worlds that canon character's live in. i guess like self-insert, but not, because i wanted more, i wanted different, i didn't want me. i wanted to live and breath in the creations of others and see where my own imagination might take me. that isn't to say i haven't written canon before, i think i'm just too insecure when it boils down to it lol but i used to write theon greyjoy for awhile. i find it takes a lot of energy out of me whereas fox just comes so freely. i had to write her, i had to make sure other people saw her too, idk if that makes any sense lol.

😍 do you have a specific character type that you usually find applies to your favorites?

i love a tragic backstory ! i love when a character says something that doesn't make any real sense, but it does, and it sticks in your teeth like: "this place is like someboy's memory of a town, and the memory is fading." from true detective. i like atmospheric characters, characters that feel so part of the world that it's hard to imagine things without them. i'm of course drawn to those that also put others above themselves always, the savior complex, the self-sacrificing, y'know classic older sister trying to keep the family together vibes. also if there is a cowboy character, i'm sold already. character's who want a better world, even if they won't see it, someone will.

🌟 what was the first fandom you remember rping for?

okay we're going DEEP into some starbuck lore here--the first place i ever wrote rp on was foopets lmao they had forums and it was my first online experience with that sort of thing--i was young, either elementary or middle school. i don't know why, but i had never thought about writing in fandoms or that that was a thing other people might want to do?? so it was a lot of 'a bunch of people live in this house and post a picture of your room and car etc' but the first fandom that i can remember writing in was probably twilight or jurassic park--the site became paid only shortly after and i think i migrated to warriorcats forums (this is so embarrassing lol) writing mostly random ocs--this was waaaay before fox or maybe it was pieces of her coming together as other people--and finally i ended here on tumblr and i think my first fandom here was ASOIAF/GOT, which is what fox started out as! a GOT/ASOIAF oc.

🐱 - do you have any pets?

i do! i have....10 barn/outside cats: chunk, mouth, squirt, princess, mama, toby keith jr "TK", beretta, missy, eustace, and magnolia. then i "have" two possums named creed (we had a rocky theme going for a while, i think there had been 4 cats named rocky up to this point) and little bastard who lays on all my flowers. then there are the chickens, i'll bold our roosters some live in the 'men's ward' i need more hens (never trust when they say they'll guarantee hens btw): pudge, little sister (also known as big mama & pot-pie), omlette, odin, annie oakley (who was supposed to be a hen but was actually a rooster so his full name is anakin oakley fastest chicken in the west), barb, hughie, reggie, honey butter, jewel, larry, curly, moe, alcatraz, gracie mae, jeff goldbloom, bruce, toews, mr. brokeback "shakes" shakey, milkshake, oreo, blizzard, dill, pickle, hawke, hershey, thelma, and louise !

✒️ what sort of hobbies do you have outside of writing?

answered here ! but long story sort, way too many.

🍿 what's your favorite movie?

i have a lot of favorites but if you asked my sister what my favorite one is she'd say the ritual (2017) otherwise i'd go with the lord of the rings trilogy <3 oooh or the newest star trek films, i've watched them over and over and over again.

📺 what's your favorite TV show?

again, so many !! but true detective s1 i could watch on repeat forever. the series itself is v good too. black mirror (minus s1e1, seriously i tell everyone to skip it), love death & robots--i really like anthologies like that. of course i must say twd too! omg and battlestar galactica !

🎮 what's your favorite video game?

bioshock ! literally would die to be able to play these games again for the first time. red dead redemption 2. far cry 5 has a death grip on me. of course skyrim and fallout, the dragon age series, and the siiiiiiiiims lol gotta love the sims.

thank you so much for sending these in !

[vuulpecula]

The house itself was small, left behind the way the rest of the world had been. Fox suspected it had once been a farmhouse, one that the small town had been built up around. Converting the numerous rooms into an apartment or some kind of shared living situation when times got too tough to afford the property taxes. Or maybe there was an entirely different reason for the two kitchens. Regardless, it afforded her the luxury of never having to go to the ground floor if she didn't want to. A built-in deterrent for the dead roaming outside. They couldn't make it up the stairs without alerting her and they couldn't make it around the furniture she had pushed into the hallway before she was there to dispatch them. The living were trickier, but since finding this place, no one else had come close enough to peer in through the broken windows or creep up the stairs to find another survivor. She wasn't sure what she'd do if they had.

Situated in the attic, she hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the buzz of the cicadas and the hot, wet heat of the afternoon had pulled her somewhere dark and dreamless. Drenched in the low hum of a world too quite, like the thrum of a window air conditioning unit on a summer afternoon from a lifetime ago. She awoke to the creak of wood on the stairs leading to the second level and the peaceful drone turned deafening as dread dropped her stomach.

Mouth dry, Fox crept over the floorboards, careful not to place her foot where she knew it creaked. Listening for the familiar groan of the dead and hearing nothing. Her hands were shaking as she reached for the pistol at her hip--guns made noise, they were to be avoided if possible, but some situations...some called for them. Moving again, Fox tried to find where it was the person or people beneath her were. There were a few holes in the attic floor that allowed her to peer through ( they looked strangely like bullet holes, but there'd been no evidence on the floor below ). She was careful as she lowered herself to one, breathing slowly through her open mouth. The air tasted like damp and mouse droppings, but her heart was pulsing too quickly to allow her to breathe normally without making what felt like a racket.

Eyelashes brushing the lip of the hole, Fox waited for someone or something to pass beneath it. Sweat dripped down her temple. The seconds ticked by too slowly. She imagined who it might be, wondered if she'd be able to stay quiet and unknown above them until they left, if they left, or what she might have to do if they didn't. What she hadn't thought of, nor expected, was a child. No, not just a child, a child and their mother. She waited for others, but none came. Sitting back up, she struggled with what to do next. She couldn't harm them, even if they did mean harm in return. It was just a kid and their mom. But, she didn't want to scare them either. She chewed her lip, then followed them from above, waiting until she had heard what sounded like the thump of a bag being sat down. Safe, perhaps they had deemed this place safe.

Swallowing back the dryness of her mouth, Fox found another nearby hole and called out to them. Trying both not to yell and to sound friendly. "Hi there," her voice was hoarse from disuse, scratching up her throat with the same roughness as the floorboards. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you." She couldn't see much of the woman, only her shoes. "I'm in the attic, it's just me--would it be alright if I came down?" Did she sound trustworthy? Would she trust her if the roles were reversed? She wasn't quite sure... "There's a can of spaghettios in the bottom cabinet if you and your boy are hungry."

✖ @wexarethewalkingxdead plotted starter.