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𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄
( s u r v i v o r ) — quiet 18 y.o young man who has psychic abilities ﹠ can 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 to the souls of the 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒅 through ( a n y ) phone ; always 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 . ゛
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plastic eyelids blink down and back up with a mechanical snap. “hi, i’m chucky! and i’m your friend ‘til the end! heidy ho!” a bright, preprogrammed grin spreading wide.
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his grin faltered, eyes darting between her and the used knife. “don’t start crying now. you think i don’t got feelings?” a brief pause as he climbed back up to reach her height. ⁺
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The blonde grabs vodka from the liquor cabinet, watching the bloody soaked knife in the kitchen. She starts to bawl again. " I'm so over you. You never take my feelings into account! "
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charles glanced down at the ash on his overall, blinking once before diverting his gaze back to her. “ah, here we go.” hopping down, he’s beginning to pace a little. “c’mon, doll. ⁺
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Tiffany huffs exhaling her
cigarette smoke, flicking
the ashes onto his good
guy overalls, she responds
in her nasally tone:
" you always coming
home late every goddamn
night. Killing without me,
all the damn time... When
was the last time you took
me out? "
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leaning into it, the doll’s lips enveloped around the cigarette before taking a drag. he exhaled through his nose, eyes half-lidded. “the hell’s your problem now?” flicking his gaze back up at her.
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Tiffany is in a bad attitude
she huffs, standing up bending
over and slides the butt end of
the smoke between the Dolly's lips. " There you go, sweetface.
Puff away, like you do my feelings. "
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he’s hardly looking up at first, the glow of the cigarette and a grin catching the light. “jesus, tiff. you look like hell froze over and kicked you back out.” a pause. “give me a hit, will ‘ya?”
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Starter for @slashterium!
Tiffany walks along the sidewalk past midnight in her red coat. Covering herself up, she's a bit intoxicated. The chilly, cold Chicago nights have been brutal. Walking into her hideout with Charles. She sits down and smokes.