#xharlequeen

[shouldereveryburden-blog]

Livin’ life like I’m a king!

|| Meme | Accepting ||

   “And giving me a run for my money while you’re at it. You are. The most. Frustrating baddie I’ve ever met.”

[isleymscphd-blog]

❝ i think he’s an athletic, good-looking gazillionaire, who’s offered me a job and made advances towards me. ❞

|| ᴹᵉᵐᵉ | ᴬᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ||

     “...You know, if you bring him by, I can convince him to give you a signing-bonus, a raise, and get him to keep his grubby hands off of you. It’d be similar to what we did with Edward, only more convenient because we wouldn’t have to look at his face every day.”

[isleymscphd-blog]

xharlequeen replied to your post: ❝ no fun dancing by yourself; i need a partner. ❞

(harley voice) take me i’m urs

(ivy voice) -eyebrow waggle- taking u was the plan bby

[isleymscphd-blog]

❝ when you hear something that sounds like a gunshot, drive. ❞

|| ᴹᵉᵐᵉ | ᴬᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ||

     “If I hear gunshots, someone’s getting a bamboo chute up their ASS, I refuse to have our date ruined by some peon with a gun. Now, are we going to that Asian fusion restaurant, or the place on the waterfront?”

[isleymscphd-blog]

❝ no fun dancing by yourself; i need a partner. ❞

|| ᴹᵉᵐᵉ | ᴬᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ||

     Her mind went to a thousand different, wicked places, each thought bringing a deeper green to her cheeks. “Well, darling, I know a lot of different ways to dance, some elegant, some exotic, but the one I’m most fond of involves quite a bit of contact and VERY little clothing, and the only music I’ll need for this particular routine is that lovely voice of yours.”

[bxtcherbxby]

@xharlequeen is on the chopping block!

The fun thing about mobsters? No one really gives a shit what happens to them. About as much as they cared for sex workers or the homeless. While they were ambivalent to the latter, mobsters and other crooks were disliked. Hated even. Very acceptable targets. Pay evil unto evil and all that jazz.

Except.

Typhoid wasn’t doing this for any noble reasoning. She wasn’t trying to be the hero. Sure as hell wasn’t going to save anyone. Hell she wasn’t even on a job. Typhoid Mary was just bored, and she found herself bored in a new place at that. 

She leaned back in a chair, casually taking a swig from a bottle of scotch, bodies thrown and strewn about the corners of the room. Slumped over the furniture, bleeding quite profusely over the carpeting. It had otherwise been quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop. Typhoid, consequently, heard a soft, pained groan from a poor sap who was having trouble with the whole dying part. A hunting knife aimed for the throat fixed that up real quick.

It wasn’t until she heard the creek of the door opening that she’d picked up on someone else there. She turned her gaze in their direction, smiling sweetly, blood all but dripping from her mouth.

“Can I help you?”

[isleymscphd-blog]

“ that’s bad ”

|| ᴹᵉᵐᵉ | ᴬᶜᶜᵉᵖᵗⁱⁿᵍ ||

     “I know...” The bruise throbbed, and her eye was trying to escape her head from the pressure around it, but the man who’d managed to get a lucky shot off on her had fared far worse-- though he’d make lovely fertilizer for her growing children in the woods outside the city limits. “I’ll be fine. Some time under the sun lamp and a bit of a soak in the tub, and it’ll be as if it never happened.”