KAREN.

                 ^{“You and I have very different definitions of progress.
                              —-shit. I’ve never pissed him off this bad.”}

        _{❝ Believe me, it’s PROGRESS! He’ll come around, I’ve just gotta
                 butter him up a bit, y’know? You’ll be back to working under my 
        Puddin’s thumb before you know it! PROMISE! ❞}

(Source: jesterbleach, via sickofyourbullshxt)

@sickofyourbullshxt

            ↳ liked this for a starter  ( accepting )

         _{❝  So… he’s still not too keen on you havin’ your job back… 
                    But I don’t think he want to kill you, so… PROGRESS! ❞}

@dawian

            ↳ liked this for a starter  ( accepting )

         _{❝  Was your Mom a big fan of The Omen?
                   Or did she just find 666 on your HEAD and the name came from there?  ❞}

BRATGIRL

_{( @stupidbats )}

     _{she staggers, holding the gaping wound down her middle. blood stains yellow gloves. the knife had been unexpected. the knife hadn’t been a part of the deal.}

     _{❝ don’t think– don’t think you’ll win THAT EASY. ❞} 

        _{Knife tossed to the side, her hand now gripped the handle of her GUN, grin pulling the corners of her lips upwards as she stared down the other. Gaze lowered to the wound she’d inflicted before she glanced back up at her foe.   ❝ You may wanna get that looked at, looks like it may get INFECTED! Wanna go for another round?  ❞}

PUDDIN’

^{He can see her in the reflection of metals on the wall. See that SNAP.
         Oh, he’s got her attention now. Head tilts, like he’s ironin’ out a crick in his neck. 
“See, s’funny. Had I not seen her myself I’d have thought someone was
          lyin’ to me. She looked… rather COMFORTABLE. I call it disrespect, s’all.
But she knows the consequences. I’ll just pay her a visit tomorrow night, huh?”}

         _{Oh shit. Shit shit shit. Chest tightens, throat squeezes as she swallows
                  hard, gaze lowering to the floor for a moment.  ❝ Comfortable, PUDDIN’?  ❞  
       FUCK. Eyes glance back up to him, teeth chewing into the side of her 
                  cheek. Damage control time.  ❝ No! — I mean… Puddin’, lemme just explain.
         I mean, I felt BAD… she’d lost her job and it was a misunderstandin’,
                  that’s all it was… she don’t know anythin’…  ❞}

(via clownbleach-archive)

PUDDIN’

^{“What is this, I hear… about KAREN lurkin’ through the back way
        this afternoon, before enjoying a drink at my expense… and then
continuing about her daily routine… as if our CHAT the other night…
       never happened?” Attention remains on the repair of one of the many
snapping contraptions he keeps in his box of TOOLS, oh so seemingly.}

^@stupidbats

       _{Head snaps up from her phone, lips pursing together as her mind works 
               overtime in order to get herself out of the little MESS she’d slipped into.
        ❝ Huh? Who said that? Are you sure it was Karen? Maybe someone is
               just MESSIN’ with your head, Puddin’….  ❞}  

PUDDIN’

          ^{And he acts obliviously indeed, drink running past silvers and
 he stares at his own REFLECTION in the mirror. She grimaces in
      peripherals but oh, seems like he’s not paying her any attention at all.
“So glad you agree.” Comes forth with a bite of his usual… JESTING.}

                _{Jaw clenches tighter, teeth grinding as she stares at him, eyes boring 
                   into his profile, chest rising and falling with each heavy, jagged breath. 
                 ❝ She’s a dime a dozen. We could replace her with any other blonde
                         in the club. She ain’t NOTHIN’ special.  ❞}

(Source: jesterbleach, via clownbleach-archive)

@clownbleach

         _{Long, slender legs swung over the man’s lap, her chosen seat for the evening was that of the male she was now straddling, lips curling at the corners, a smirk placed upon painted red lips. Dainty hands rested at the man’s lower stomach before they began to travel upwards, fingers DANCING their way up his shirt until she gripped at the collar and moved in. Tip of her nose bumped off the man’s before a musical laugh escaped passed her lips as she leaned back, keeping a tight grip on his shirt to support herself. Pulling herself back up, her head tilted, smile now replacing her smirk as she seemed to examine his expression.   ❝ You know, it’s not very nice keepin’ someone waitin’ on what’s theirs! Means you ain’t got no manners. Ain’t that right, PUDDIN’?  ❞}