Your name is Feferi Peixes and you were born at the top rankings of the social ladder, much to your relief. The world you lived in was cruel and terrible, and you were glad that as a high class citizen you never had any problems—but that didn’t mean you were okay with it, not at all actually. You believed in equality, that everyone should be the same; no one should be hungry or sick because they were poor or low class and they definitely shouldn’t be treated any different. A dreamer they called you, mocked you even, but the joke was on them because you were going to do something about it, raise awareness and convince people to join you in uniting everyone.
You’re selected career path was journalism, and thankfully the position came to you very easily, it normally went to someone in the middle class but since you wanted it, you snatched it up. Your bosses were also, generally lower than you, and you felt bad about it but that let you do what you needed to. Your normal topic was coverage of the wrongs done to the lower class, and things involving it, and your case of the century had finally been presented.
Recently you had been doing some very deep research about the new programs that were being run; they had been for about a year. Their job? To support the lower class, keep them fed, healthy, and off the streets. There were significantly much less homeless on the street now, much to your joy and they thanked you for raising awareness, they said they wouldn’t have realized the issue if it weren’t for you, and so you were happy but that wasn’t the big scoop, there was an even bigger one at hand.
You heard about her only a week ago, the girl who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, you supported the thought but stealing wasn’t the way to go about it. You wondered why it was now she was showing up, after things had already been put in place for these matters, maybe it was publicity. From the moment you heard about her, you needed to find out more. Soon, you became infatuated, following her every move, you knew everything except for her identity, but soon you’d find out. All of these events lead you here, standing to face your death. You think about all the things you want to do with your life, and all the things you’ve done in your life. Do you regret any of it? Yes, you did. Once you had begun snooping and following around the girl everyone was calling ‘the masked’ you followed her pattern, her habits, and everything you added up over time lead you to a devastating conclusion: you had made everything worse. The only thing your media attention was doing was directing the higher class to see them as a problem, an issue, they were overpopulating the cities and didn’t do anything productive, but they decided that the lower class could do something—they could be used as experiments. They were being experimented on to help cure illness, and it was your fault. Not as many homeless on the street? They weren’t being taken care of, they were being murdered, just like you were about to be murdered. The reason the masked had only just shown up was that, it wasn’t true, she had been there the whole time operating quietly and stealthy, surviving as a low class only on her wit and courage; and when the high class were up to no good, she couldn’t just stand by, but she wasn’t here right now. You were, and yes, you regretted it in the end, all it was going to do was get you killed.
That’s when you saw her, busting through the window just like in an action movie, her whip at the ready. A whip! The people had guns to your head and here comes a slim girl bursting through the window and disarming them with the crack of a whip. The girl ducked as one swung at her with his arm and she gave him an uppercut knocking him out cold and making quick work of the other peon.
The girl looked at you before she slipped off her mask, just like any superhero at the end of a movie does, and she gave you the big thumbs up.
“Could have been worse!” she declared smiling at you, and you felt yourself smiling back at her, despite all the danger she was everything you’d thought she’d be; beautiful, cunning, witty, and agile—and you loved every bit of it. Of course, naturally, like at the end of everything when the hero comes in and saves the girl who was only trying to help, she kisses you. You know this is the end of a chapter in your life, but the kiss represents a new beginning.
FILL: Karkat<3Karkat
___________
Your name is Feferi Peixes and you were born at the top rankings of the social ladder, much to your relief. The world you lived in was cruel and terrible, and you were glad that as a high class citizen you never had any problems—but that didn’t mean you were okay with it, not at all actually. You believed in equality, that everyone should be the same; no one should be hungry or sick because they were poor or low class and they definitely shouldn’t be treated any different. A dreamer they called you, mocked you even, but the joke was on them because you were going to do something about it, raise awareness and convince people to join you in uniting everyone.
You’re selected career path was journalism, and thankfully the position came to you very easily, it normally went to someone in the middle class but since you wanted it, you snatched it up. Your bosses were also, generally lower than you, and you felt bad about it but that let you do what you needed to. Your normal topic was coverage of the wrongs done to the lower class, and things involving it, and your case of the century had finally been presented.
Recently you had been doing some very deep research about the new programs that were being run; they had been for about a year. Their job? To support the lower class, keep them fed, healthy, and off the streets. There were significantly much less homeless on the street now, much to your joy and they thanked you for raising awareness, they said they wouldn’t have realized the issue if it weren’t for you, and so you were happy but that wasn’t the big scoop, there was an even bigger one at hand.
You heard about her only a week ago, the girl who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, you supported the thought but stealing wasn’t the way to go about it. You wondered why it was now she was showing up, after things had already been put in place for these matters, maybe it was publicity. From the moment you heard about her, you needed to find out more. Soon, you became infatuated, following her every move, you knew everything except for her identity, but soon you’d find out.
All of these events lead you here, standing to face your death. You think about all the things you want to do with your life, and all the things you’ve done in your life. Do you regret any of it? Yes, you did. Once you had begun snooping and following around the girl everyone was calling ‘the masked’ you followed her pattern, her habits, and everything you added up over time lead you to a devastating conclusion: you had made everything worse. The only thing your media attention was doing was directing the higher class to see them as a problem, an issue, they were overpopulating the cities and didn’t do anything productive, but they decided that the lower class could do something—they could be used as experiments. They were being experimented on to help cure illness, and it was your fault. Not as many homeless on the street? They weren’t being taken care of, they were being murdered, just like you were about to be murdered. The reason the masked had only just shown up was that, it wasn’t true, she had been there the whole time operating quietly and stealthy, surviving as a low class only on her wit and courage; and when the high class were up to no good, she couldn’t just stand by, but she wasn’t here right now. You were, and yes, you regretted it in the end, all it was going to do was get you killed.
That’s when you saw her, busting through the window just like in an action movie, her whip at the ready. A whip! The people had guns to your head and here comes a slim girl bursting through the window and disarming them with the crack of a whip. The girl ducked as one swung at her with his arm and she gave him an uppercut knocking him out cold and making quick work of the other peon.
The girl looked at you before she slipped off her mask, just like any superhero at the end of a movie does, and she gave you the big thumbs up.
“Could have been worse!” she declared smiling at you, and you felt yourself smiling back at her, despite all the danger she was everything you’d thought she’d be; beautiful, cunning, witty, and agile—and you loved every bit of it.
Of course, naturally, like at the end of everything when the hero comes in and saves the girl who was only trying to help, she kisses you. You know this is the end of a chapter in your life, but the kiss represents a new beginning.