Post by Deleted on May 1, 2017 1:51:30 GMT
Sarah Selena Lacklan leans against a wall of the Greek Theatre before a special preview of Guardians of the Galaxy II, off in a dark alley, her hand shaking. The red dress she wears, a bright color that matches her odd eyes, is designed to give her cleavage to her ears, and the shaking from her hand makes flesh giggle. A light sheen of sweat breaks out on her pale forehead as she takes deep breaths, her eyes closing as her head falls back against the wall. Her silky platinum hair wobbles in its tall up-do. But her body calms, her eyes opening, as the DRIVE course through her body, bringing her tranquility. She drops the empty vial to the ground as she pulls out her phone.
~~The PrincessTwilightSexyFang podcast, as viewed on hotgoths.fuckyeah~~
You are not the first to make misconceptions about me, dearie. Everywhere I go I am surrounded by people who see something on the surface and make judgements. The pale skin and bright hair, even the even more rare red eyes, make me an albino, but people just assume some random goth chick using makeup and contacts. Sorry, but I am no Natasha. People listen to my voice, the Londoner accent and perfect diction, and they assume some uptight prude. Sorry, but I am no Jessica Sears. I am something wholly different.
I am the Firestarter.
Your massive misconception about me was that I am just some little girl who surrounds herself with friends. I am not. I am, for better or worse, someone who sets fire to everything that I touch. I have burned bridges, harmed family and friends, pushed away entire communities. But I have no regrets, no remorse, for I understand what I am and what I do: I fuck people up. I get in their head, I make them question themselves, and then I kick the everliving shit out of them.
IT IS WHAT I DO.
So pardon me while I laugh about how wrong you are. I DO NOT cry about not having any friends, no matter what that sad little Allyson might say (there is your name drop, filthy sea hag!). But me? I was WHOLLY right about you.
YOU...could have fought me when I first made the challenge.
YOU...could have backed up your bravo with fists.
YOU...could have defended your legacy when it was challenged.
Instead you hid. You cowered. You...what? Laundered clothing? Pressed Gavin shirts? Brought him his slippers like a good little bitch? Did he pat your bottom as you brought him his pipe and a glass of sherry?
THAT is who you are, dearie. It matters not what you WERE.
You WERE Jericho. Took down all challengers. Fought everyone from Miles to Malone. But now?
NOW?
Nothing but a goddamn pussy housewife who is dismissed as no longer having βitβ by her own husband.
THAT is who has answered my challenge. Not the badass undefeated monster that you WERE. Not the one who would have fought some loudmouth 19-year-old rich girl any time or place. But the pussy housewife who hides when she runs out of gifs or quips and only takes the challenge when that rich girl already has a match that night.
I will not...WILL NOT...WILL NOT LOSE TO THAT PUSSY HOUSEWIFE!
While YOU have sat on your ass in leisure, enjoying the pools and the parties, I have been fighting the entire goddamn WORLD. While YOU have felt fit to bully people online and take potshots whenever you knew you would never have to face retaliation, I have punched, kicked, and bled in this business and shown the world that I am the reckoning. While YOU have fallen out of ring shape and gotten fat on bon-bons while watching the O Network, I have taken on all challengers and backed down to NO ONE.
So bring your ironing board, dearie. Bring your vacuum and your coupon book. Bring your shitty romance novel and your bedtime glass of red wine. I am going to take everything that you now hold dear and show the world that what you WERE is but a memory and what you ARE is nothing more than just some backseat driver wishing she could be as relevant as her husband. Enjoy your few nights out of the house, dearie, because I am going to drop you into the Abyss and send you back into the forgotten obscurity you have so richly earned.
And when your husband picks up you broken and bleeding body from the hospital, just one week removed from when he reminded the world over that HE is the important person in your union, I will make sure to leave him a note:
βMy apologies for the mess.β
Ride the flames.