kittybriar

[kittybriar]

MAKE YOUR MUSE.

tagged by :  literally not a soul lmao tagging :  anyone who wants to !! ♡

[kittybriar]

@blythelandry​ !! ♡

She can’t help but feel like Sonny in this moment; clueless and without her phone. She’s always on him about forgetting his phone at home, but in the back of her mind, she knows how easy it is to do. She sees how all of these newcomers are so attached to their phones, never going a single moment without checking it and constantly having them in their hands. It’s only from watching them on their phones that Kitty even remembers she has one herself. Everyone in Boot Hill is just so predictable that It’s always just been easier to go and look for them than it is to call or send a text. Still, right now she wishes that she had her phone with her instead of having to use what little change she has in her pockets to call her mom for a ride home from work. It’s not that she’s afraid of the eerie happenings in Boot Hill after dark, she doesn’t even notice things like that anymore. She just doesn’t feel like walking all the way home and it’s much easier to disturb Lorelai Edwards from her perfect little eden. 

Kitty only laughs when the answering machine picks up. Fuck you. Of course her mother wouldn’t answer, why should she when she’s already at home with her family? Husband, wife, son, that’s all the Edwards need. There’s no room Kitty there, and every day her mother finds a way to remind her of that. She’s so close to getting the hell out of that house, only a few paychecks away from being free. Soon there’ll be no more dirty looks whenever she walks through the door or anymore snide comments from a loser step father and a useless mother who has long since lost Kitty’s respect. All Kitty can think about as she slams the receiver down on the base is the quarters she just wasted trying to call her. 

Now she’s on the prowl, an alley cat looking for its next meal, or in her case, a ride. There’s just too many victims to use, but there’s only one that she’s interested in testing. In her line of sight is a flash of dark brown hair and a pair cheekbones she’s always dreamt of having for herself that could only belong to Blythe Landry.  She smiles warmly now, shedding her previous annoyance and stepping into the role of a helpless citizen. “Blythe!” She calls out to the girl from the other side, all kindness and charm as she makes her way across the street to meet the girl. She figures it might do her some good to try and be nice to Blythe so she can get what she wants. Hopefully she can make this quick since her feet are killing her in these shoes. “How’ve you been, angel face?” 

[kittybriar]

JOEY‌:

the shining appeal of the house party ( a term they all used loosely, as her friend louisa lived in the miracle mine trailer park ), decorated in flashing lights in some year-round, macabre amalgamation of christmas, had tarnished before she’d even finished her first beer. a group of guys from high school that she could never quite stand had crashed and were making themselves at home in louisa’s trailer because that girl was too goddamn spineless to say anything. after her sister’s death, joey’d never laid her hands on a car key after drinking, but there had been an unease in the desert night air since she’d arrived at the party on the outskirts of town. it was only half a beer and a shot anyway and she was glad that she’d been conservative about her drinking, even if it meant leaving home early.

the hairs on her neck stood at attention, and as she dug through her purse for her keys, she felt the distinct sensation of eyes on her back. picking up her pace, she cursed as her search for her keys became more frantic. as she finally approached her car, keys still nowhere to be found, she was surprised to see a figure in her path and she jumped, turning to find no one behind her after all and meeting the person who lounged either near or on her car ( it was too dark yet to tell from where she stood ) with an annoyed glance. “christ jesus!” the words came out in the breath she didn’t know she was holding before steeling her resolve. “do you mind?” she asked, before trudging closer and dumping the contents of her purse on the hood of her car. no keys. none. nada. with a loud groan, she kicked the fire of her car and spun slowly, leaning against the hood of the car and raking her fingers through her messy blonde curls. “goddamn it.” she whispered, more to herself than to present company. ( @boothillstarters​ )

She wasn’t invited, but when has a missing invitation ever stopped Kitty Briar from doing whatever she wanted anyway? Honestly, a Boot Hill party isn’t worth shit if Kitty’s not there to turn up it a notch past nine and really make it a party. Kitty’s presence ensures that everyone in attendance will most likely wake up in the morning in some unknown location with a pounding headache. That’s her contribution to the town; a headache from a damn good time. 

She’s almost offended by the nonexistent invite as she single-handedly invented the party scene in Boot Hill (or so she likes to tell herself). To spite the host, she’s decided to crash it with a few of her old henchmen and cronies from high school (namely the five and a few ex football players) to really make them regret ever leaving Kitty Briar out of a party. They, of course, leave a mess wherever they go and proceed to damage the property without a second thought. They’re obnoxious, but it’s a plague that the party goers must endure because Kitty never forgets a slight. No one ignores Kitty briar, and ike a sore, she always makes her presence known. 

The party is...mediocre at best and it’s not her fault. Had she learned of its existence prior to today, she might have been able to take control of how it was planned. Who the hell thought it was a good idea to have a party in a trailer? Sure, not everyone could afford to live in Villas Adobes like Kitty but a trailer was just pathetic. The monotony of it all just became too much for Kitty to handle, so she made her way out of the dingy little shack and onto the hood of someone’s car with a few of her cohorts.  She isn’t too keen on sharing her weed with the rest of the rednecks inside so she takes this opportunity to light up a joint outside. Bringing it up to her lips, Kitty takes a long drag before passing it to one of boys in the group. Just before she can even blow the smoke past her lips, she’s met with the sight of Joey Ryan approaching the car. Joey’s annoyed and for a good reason, the hood of a car isn’t a chair but it’s not like Kitty even cares. 

“Relax, Ryan. I’m the prettiest thing that’s ever been on the hood of your little hooptie.” Her jest earns a few chuckles from her entourage as the joint is passed around. It’s said in good fun, not even remotely resembling her true cruelty. At least Joey has a car, Kitty’s been relegated to walking everywhere or bumming a ride from Sonny or whatever flavor of the week she’s entertaining. Once the joint makes its way back to her, Kitty extends it to Joey before sliding off the hood of the car. “Go on, have a drag.” Everything that comes out of Kitty’s mouth sounds so tempting, she could probably sell the ocean a cup of water. “I won’t tell.”

[kittybriar]

[kittybriar]

[kittybriar]

[kittybriar]

[kittybriar]

NOAH‌:

{ O P E N }

@boothillstarters​

Dull was the town along with everything that came along with it. Paint through town seemed like it was chipped years ago, yet it remained that way as long as Noah could remember. The gravel roads kicked up when the occasional car would pass, and thin layer of dust lie across everything in sight. At least the later could easily be chalked up to desolate surroundings that engulfed the town. Just as one could put down the ever present silence that lingered no matter where one was.

Gravel beneath his feet was all he could hear as he strode through the desolate town, cursing at the broken washer in the house. The doors into the laundromat he slammed open without much care if one was already situated in there, and proceeded much the same with the machine. Careful to disturb everything he came in contact with. Clattering of tumbling dryers that sounded to be on their last days didn’t manage to hide the interruptions of his loud proceedings, as the boy began tipping the basket of clothes inside. 

Kitty doesn’t go to the laundromat anymore. Thanks to Paul Edwards, they’re able to afford a relatively new washer and dryer, so, gone are the days of sitting beside a tumbling dryer with her mother while she undid her braids in an effort to piss her off. Kitty always has to make everything an unbearable experience, and a trip to the laundromat is no exception. Just before the final load was dried and folded she’d throw such a tantrum that her mother decided it was best to just leave her at home whenever she needed to wash their clothes. As she walks past the laundromat, she can’t help but remember what it was like before her mother caught such a big fish and secured her place in the gated community. She doesn’t linger on the memory for too long though, as her attention is immediately captured by Noah; a true sight for sore eyes. 

She flicks her cigarette carelessly in some unknown direction, not learning from the last time she discarded a half-lit cigarette butt into the trash. Pushing through the glass doors the bell at the top rings and it does more than just notify; it's a warns. Like the very end of a snake, she’s the warning rattle, the bell’s final toll. She approaches him, her lips curling up into a smile that’s sired purely from arrogance. “Washing your panties, Noah?” she asks, her voice tilting upward at the end of the question. “You really should be more careful with your delicates.” Kitty leans her back against an empty dryer with her arms crossed; the same, perpetual grin plastered on her face. This is how they both operate. She teases him, he says something equally as annoying, and they both go on and on until one gets bored and walks away.

[kittybriar]

SONNY‌:

kitty promised. this is it. even now, with her beautiful face right in front of him, he has to remind himself of this. kitty had promised never to treat him like shit again, he had promised that it was the absolute last chance. if she fucks up, no more will he allow her back into his life, no more he will allow her back into his bed, no more will he love her. sonny has never been one to make promises, kitty makes them too much, but it feels final. it feels like the beginning of the end, end of the beginning. it feels like he’s back in high school again, but this time, a little wiser. a little more hip to kitty’s bullshit—and yet, he’s here again, in the parking lot of cheri’s dairi with his pulse quickening. it feels so exciting, turning the page, starting over again. it feels so disgusting, allowing himself to be in this position again, deluding himself into thinking this will be the end. like everything in boot hill, nothing ever ends. like always, kitty will break his heart and he’ll accept it, brood about it but accept it, it’s just fun pretending otherwise. maybe if he pretends enough, it will come true. fake it until you make it, or something. maybe if he pretends enough, it will come true, and if she pretends enough, she’ll love him back.

as much as he has to remind himself, his body disobeys, it takes that heart and makes it beat too fast just at the sight of kitty. it makes him feel nervous, in a way that it shouldn’t post-teenage years. she’s wearing white, she knows he loves her in that color, makes him think of weddings and churches and all those things she’ll never give him. no, no, he hates her in white. the sweet way she speaks to him, it takes every bit of resolve to remember the purpose of this little… date. his willpower is going only to remembering every horrible thing kitty has done to him, and will probably continue to do, he has to remember. if he forgets, like he always seems to do, they’ll just be doing this again in a few months. sonny nods his compliance, smirking limply—he had no intention of disagreeing, but he wouldn’t have voiced it if he did, it’s just easier to let her do what she wants. no one makes sonny feel more like a deuteragonist in his own life than kitty. the entire time they’ve known each other, she makes the decisions and he’s left to either accept or deny, but usually accept. most times, he doesn’t mind. sometimes, it makes him hate her. most times, it makes him love her.

her arm slipping naturally into his, it feels so familiar. it feels like that junior year, her junior year when he started to settle into the barback lifestyle and all that really mattered to him, outside of making sure cian and isla were still breathing, was kitty. sonny knows it’s different now; as much as kitty turns him into a nervous teenager so easily, there are differences. he’s near the middle of his twenties, he has rent to pay and a father to chase after and friends that aren’t exactly friends but they don’t just want him to serve them free beer since they’re now old enough to get it themselves. things have changed. as much as they stay the same with kitty, things outside of her change. they get better, they get worse. sad to know kitty might be the only constant in his life. a shitty constant, one that makes him question himself and degrade himself, but a constant all the same. kitty is the eye of the storm, the center of all his self-doubt and insecurity. somehow, even when everything outside of her has nothing to do with her, they’re still tinged, touched by her. kimimela liu hates him for an unknown reason and kitty says she hates her just as much as kim hates him, but then why does he sometimes see them chatting with smiles? isla begs him to stop letting kitty treat him like this, stop letting her back into his (and by extension, her) life, but there’s something that tells him it has more to do with than hating to see her brother be used. everywhere he looks, kitty is haunting him, and it only half has to do with living in a small town.

he smiles hesitantly at her statement, becoming warmer at the use of the nickname. sonny has always hated allie—it’s a girl’s name of course, just like his actual name, and only his immediate family calls him al. he’s always just been sonny, just like she’s always been kitty. he hates to be called allie, but he lets her get away with it, because nothing gets in the way of what kitty wants. it’s sort of funny in this context, though, she usually only calls him that when she’s pissed at him; he calls her kathy in return, since it’s the most matronly nickname he can think of. “didn’t think that at all, kathy.” oh, so obviously a lie, his nerves wear across his face plain as his freckles. still, it’s fun to pretend, all of it is pretend. he waits patiently as she orders, the teenage cashier seemingly giving him a look that is either incredulous or jealous, maybe hateful. “two cherries with it.” sonny adds onto their order. kitty has always reminded him of maraschino cherries, the kind that top ice cream or garnish alcoholic drinks. so sweet, too sweet, to the point of rancidness.

Kitty is a parasite through and through. She’s a blood sucking leach that latches onto a host and doesn’t let go until she’s had her fill. This is just how it’s works with Kitty and other people. They’re always foolish enough to let her in too close to their hearts, and she always breaks them for sport. She doesn’t know how to handle something as fragile as a heart and she likely never will. They’re just like her mother’s antique turtle doves; kitty broke them because she could, because she liked to hear the china crack against the floor. Sonny really needs to get the hell away from Kitty if he knows what’s good for him. The last thing he needs is yet another heartbreak from this twisted little aphrodite, and you can believe she’s keen on giving it to him. No, Sonny should tear out his heart, pack it in ice and stomp it into the ground. It doesn’t where he buries it, it just needs to be somewhere safe — somewhere Kitty can’t get to it. Unfortunately, it looks like he’s about to make the same mistake he always makes. Sonny will let Kitty back into his life. Hell, he’ll even welcome back her with open arms and she’ll just abuse his kindness as expected. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, Sonny will stride ahead only to turn around to find that she’s vanished. Sonny and Kitty make for such a frustrating tragedy.

Kitty wonders if he ever gets sick of himself. Does he truly tire from the torment that she dishes out to him, or does a part of him secretly enjoy her sick little mind games? She’s not one to be played with, Kitty simply can’t handle it. If she’s not the puppeteer, then what’s the point? She could never be the the joke, the manipulated, the fool who’s found herself caught in an everlasting cycle of embarrassment. How Sonny manages it with relative ease, Kitty has no damn idea. All she knows is Sonny is soft around her and she can control a soft man. He wants to be touched by her, held by her, and loved by her. He hates himself for it, that much Kitty can tell, but no one ever said that Kitty Briar was good for anyone’s self esteem. What is it about him that keeps her coming back to him? Is it because she likes knowing that he’s always waiting for her? Maybe it’s because she likes the attention he gives her without her even having to ask for it sometimes. Whatever it is, it’s certainly not because she loves him or anything (even if her mind does drift to and linger on that possibility from time to time). 

The sound of the horrid nickname that Sonny’s given her makes her visibly cringe even though it was said in good fun. He only ever calls her that when he’s pissed at her and in return, she calls him Allie. Today, of course, they’re just teasing one another but just give it a few days and they’ll be calling each other those nicknames with a lot more venom. Kitty can’t deny that she likes the constant ups and downs of their...situationship. She likes to make him feel high — higher than the weed he carries in his back pocket., but she also likes to make him feel low. It really all boils down to her unwavering love of control and her fear of giving it up. To love him, to truly love him the way that he wants her to would call for an uprooting of power that Kitty just isn’t comfortable with. To let someone else hold some of the cards means to have less for yourself and that doesn’t work for her. Sorry, Sonny. 

She smiles at his addition of the cherry; she always likes her sugar with more sugar. She takes her cone from the cashier, turning to let him pay for the cones. Of course she leaves Sonny to pay for the ice cream, not because she doesn’t have the money, but because she prefers to spend his. “I was wondering when we’d get to hang out together again. I’ve missed you” She begins to lick the chocolate-vanilla swirl, carefully missing the cherry. “I always miss you.” It’s a bit much so early on in the evening, but it isn’t entirely a lie. She does miss him a lot sometimes. Whenever she needs a ride home, or when she just wants someone to lie next to at night, she thinks of him. Contrary to popular belief, Kitty does think about Sonny. She probably thinks about him more than she’s willing to admit; more than she probably should. 

“I want us to be like this more often. I want you to get away from the bar and spend more time with me.” It’s not a demand but it sure as hell sounds like one. This is just how Kitty tightens the leash, by laying out her expectations for him and leaving no room for compromises. “I want you to care about me like used to. I know I’ve done some pretty shitty things but — “ she pauses to to look up at him, his height making him nearly tower over her “I’m gonna be better.”

[kittybriar]

apologies, genuine or not, were often overlooked by kitty. girls like her were rarely ever sorry for the choices that they made, but she felt different this time. it almost felt right to apologize to him, but she quickly suppressed that thought. of course it wasn’t right, this was all for fun, he was for fun. why should she feel bad about playing with sonny when he was the one that allowed himself to be played with? yes, that’s a much more appropriate thought for her to have. that thought justified it all. 

KITTY BRIAR & SONNY MacCLEAN.

the queen of boot hill looks more like a pitiful little girl just then, tears in her eyes and begging on her lips. i deserve that, i meant what i said, i’m sorry. from her looks and from her words, it should be so easy for his will to break. he should be so easy to slide himself back into her servant role, it sounds so true! it sounds like the truth he’s been waiting to hear for years—no, that’s been i love you. suspiciously, that’s the one that’s missing. well, perhaps not suspiciously, but regretfully. shamefully. with all that’s happened, that’s all that alison wants to hear from kitty. (that’s all alison’s wanted to hear from anyone.)

happy birthday jay!! / @kittybriar

[kittybriar]

ISLA:

isla’s  always  been  strange  about  eye  contact,  especially  with  people  who  have  a  known  track  record  of  mockery  and  perpetuating  rumors.  there  were  little  things  that  made  her  different,  and  they  weren’t  inherently  bad,  but  it  was  her  eyes  that  were  the  worst  offenders.  eileen  macclean  had  brown  eyes,  plain  like  the  rest  of  the  macclean  lineage,  but  pretty  when  the  light  hit  them  right.  isla,  on  the  other  hand,  had  such  lovely  green  eyes,  they  were  almost  haunting.  and  then,  like  all  good  things  that  happened  to  a  member  of  the  macclean  family,  something  came  and  fucked  it  up.  when  she  was  five,  she  came  downstairs  for  breakfast  one  morning  and  bedelia  almost  lost  her  mind  when  she  saw  her  littlest  babe  with  brown  in  her  left  eye,  just  like  eileen,  and  all  these  years  later,  isla  can  still  hear  her  begging  to  god  to  make  it  stop.  

isla’s  always  been  strange  about  eye  contact,  so  when  she  locked  eyes  with  kitty  she  debated  turning  around  and  taking  the  long  way  home.  but  kitty  closed  the  distance  faster  than  isla  could  make  the  choice  to  leave,  and  she  sighed  in  anticipation  of  whatever  was  coming,  bolstering  herself  for  the  worst.  

if  isla  were  any  more  bold  or  any  more  stupid,  she  would  take  the  extended  cigarette  just  to  see  the  confusion  on  kitty’s  face.  even  if  it  lasted  for  only  a  second,  any  reason  to  see  porcelain  crack  felt  like  a  good  one.  instead  she  took  a  half  step  back,  her  face  scrunched  up  at  the  smoke.  isla  macclean  was  a  goody-two-shoes  if  there  ever  was  one.  an  eighteen  year  old  in  boot  hill,  of  all  the  god  forgotten  places  in  the  world,  who  was  as  virginal  as  they  came,  who  didn’t  drink,  who  didn’t  smoke,  who  didn’t  do  drugs  —  it  was  like  she  was  openly  campaigning  to  be  sent  to  a  nunnery  or  saved  from  the  rapture.  

❛  thank  you  for  the  offer  kitty,  but  i’ll  pass.  ❜  isla  told  her,  eyes  flicking  off  to  somewhere  else,  begging  for  something  else  to  focus  on  as  she  bounced  on  the  tips  of  her  toes.  after  a  moment,  she  looked  back  at  kitty.  she  knew  that  kitty  didn’t  care,  but  she  also  didn’t  particularly  feel  like  backing  herself  into  a  corner.  ❛  can  we  reschedule  this  harrowing  for  another  time  ?  my  mama’s  expecting  me  and  i  don’t  want  to  make  her  wait  any  longer  than  i  already  have.  ❜

She’s unsurprised by the rejection that Isla offers her. Isla MacClean is about as lily-white as they come and it really pisses Kitty off. A clean MacClean? If that’s not an oxymoron then what is? Isla’s disposition goes against everything Kitty’s ever been taught about the girl’s family and it’s a bit unsettling. To the citizens of Boot Hill, a MacClean is one of the worst things a person can be, and while Kitty has forgiven Sonny for bearing such an infamous surname, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t openly turn her nose up at them as well. It’s just out of habit, and old habits die hard. She doesn’t actually think they’re below her, but it just seems like that’s what the rest of the town expects her to think. How could she not snicker with her friends whenever one of them pointed out how poor the MacCleans are, or how often the MacClean patriarch got drunk during the week. Kitty may be well on her way to becoming a notorious drunk like Isla’s father, but even she has to take her hat off to Ewan MacClean. 

“What? Is mama making adjustments to Eileen’s dresses for you?” It’s yet another taunt born of sheer boredom. Kitty isn’t even bothering to be clever with her insults anymore, she just knows that throwing Eileen’s ghost in Isla’s face makes her feel small. Scarily enough Isla looks more like Eileen to Kitty every day, and even though it’s been forever since she’s laid eyes on her, the girl’s face is etched into her memory. It’s funny how those who’ve been claimed by unforgiving hands of tragedy have a way of staying in the back of your mind. 

She’s never had to exist in the shadow of another person before like Isla has. Kitty’s always been the rising sun, something painful to look at with open eyes but difficult to ignore. She’s easily recognized by everyone as her own person and not the carbon copy of something that came before her. “She’s been waiting years to see your sister’s face again, I think she can wait ten more minutes to see yours.” Nothing is off limits when it comes to Kitty. Hitting below the belt is just as common as breathing as far as Kitty is concerned. “But since you’re in such a hurry, I’ll walk with you.” She takes another puff of her cigarette, blowing the smoke into Isla’s face once more. Kitty isn’t offering, she’s telling. She's going to walk Isla home, or as far as she feels like it before something else catches her interest. For now, messing with Isla just feels like what Kitty’s meant to be doing right now. “let’s go.”

[kittybriar]

LULA:

Lula had a soft spot for Kitty, and it was a miracle that despite her education and all the books she read, she couldn’t tell when Kitty was teasing her or joking, it was like she was oblivious to such things, even after all this time of knowing her. “It is not the same thing, you could get in trouble.” Her whole attitude made Lula nervous, but there was some small part, way deep down inside that was a little envious, how could she not be. Kitty was everything she wasn’t, she was cool and daring, exciting and fun, wild and free. Perhaps that was why Lula liked hanging out with her, because for some small amount of time, she got a glimpse of that, to live that just for a short time before retreating to the safety of her life, her library and sensibilities.

“Look you can’t drink the whole thing before work, you will get in trouble, so leave the bottle afterwards and I’ll give it back to you.” The irony wasn’t lost on Lula at how much she sounded like a teacher confiscating a phone off of a student. With a small sigh and a nod, she followed Kitty out the back of the library, leaving a small card on her desk saying she’d be back in 10 minutes. ost likely it would be 20 or 30 but who was counting. “Wait how did you get someone to cover your shift so last minute?” People bailing on shifts and not enjoying their work was such a foreign concept to Lula she didn’t understand why people didn’t just find a job they enjoyed, but in a small town like this it was hard, she was fortunate enough to find her passion easily. 

“One drink. I mean it Kitty.”

Look you can’t drink the whole thing before work. Kitty snorts, clearly unfazed by Lula’s concern. Who says that Kitty can’t drink the entire bottle before work? That sounds more like a challenge than it does an order. Seriously, Kitty’s done much worse than this before, and every time she tests her limits with alcohol, she always manages to handle it. Although, it’s just a matter of time before her liver shrinks up to the size of a raisin. By then she’ll have lost her appeal from all the booze and cigarettes and life will have become so unbearable anyway that it won’t really matter. She may as well drink until she can’t drink anymore. It’s not like she has anything worthwhile to look forward to besides whatever’s at the end of a liquor bottle anyway. Each shot burns a little less until it starts to feel like water. Better than water, actually. The next thing she knows, she’s back at home, whimpering while crawling up the stairs to her room so that she collapse into pale pink sheets. 

One drink. Sure, they would only have one drink. One drink would be followed by two drinks, then three drinks, and so on and so forth. She doesn’t even bother trying to fight Lula on this, because she knows how she gets once the liquor has taken over. “Don’t worry about it. Someone’s there so that’s all that matters, right?” Of course, leave it to Kitty to dismiss every valid concern that anyone proposes. It’s always about what she wants in the moment and damn everyone else who might be inconvenienced in the process. 

They both arrive to their special spot behind the library and Kitty almost immediately snatches the brown bag out of Lula’s grasp and unearths the bottle of Jack Daniels before dropping the bag on the floor. Yes, Kitty is a littering dirtbag, is anyone really surprised? She cracks the top open with a frightening ease; apparently she knows her way around a tightened seal better than most. Without hesitation, Kitty lifts the bottle up to her lips and drinks a bit of the alcohol before wiping off the rim with her sleeve and passing it over to Lula. 

“Your turn. We’re not leaving until half this shit is gone so drink up.”

[kittybriar]

JENNIFER:

jennifer’s destined to be alone, or so she thought. her own mom told her that she was too rotten to be loved - let alone befriend even. and maybe that was all true but a rotten girl like her simply needed to connect with someone equally as devious as her. and that was where kitty had come in. the two are a match made in hell, satan himself afraid of just how much trouble and ruckus the two are able to create in little ol’ boot hill. both have chaotic ideals of fun and both are searching for a way to fill the void where their hearts should be. the ironic thing is that they’re both absolutely heartless, destroying lives and self destructing at the same time. it’s truly a form of art. destined to waltz straight into hell with expensive high heels, they’re equally determined to make the most out of their privileged yet miserable lives while they still had it. hence the need to self-medicate - whether that be with booze, drugs, and boys. although, not necessarily in that order.

the two together are boot hill’s worst pretty little nightmare - doing whatever they wanted with zero consequences. it’s hard to say no to them and if you do, you usually end up regretting it.

the night is young, the duo now wandering about as though they’re invincible. simply unable to be touched by the rules. who could blame them for thinking that way when they’ve yet to see the consequences for their actions? so it’s no surprise that the two are already drinking for all to see. the bottle’s sure to only be the beginning, though, the two now out on the prowl for much more. happily, jennifer takes the bottle of moscato from her - greedily taking more than she should have. wiping her mouth once she’s done, she giggles at kitty’s teasing remark. “you know i’ll be happy to, any chance to go out and get wasted is a chance worth taking.” although the delivery of her words are playful, she’s just a tad bit serious too. “think there’ll be some naive minds for us to pry apart and spit in?” she adds. lord knows the only thing that gives her more joy than liquor was someone new to torment.

They’re bored, and not only is that dangerous for them, but for the small town of Boot Hill. You see, this town can’t quite handle two natural disasters without imploding or something. Kitty does a fine job of ripping it apart all on her own, but add Jennifer to the equation and the outcome is nearly catastrophic. If Kitty is the living embodiment of disaster, then Jennifer is devastation with human skin; such a lovely pair of girls. Perhaps in another life, they would be somewhere else, somewhere more luxurious. Kitty always likes to imagine herself in a penthouse in the sky; residing in a suite that’s much too palatial for lesser gods to dwell in. Somewhere where bottles of expensive champagne arrives at the press of a button and she can drink it all alone on a pile of pink tulle. Unfortunately, she isn’t an heiress. She’s the bastard daughter of a homewrecker from the southwest who’s living in the house of her loan shark stepfather. Such a girl has no place in the upper echelons of society. Let’s be real, Kitty is just barely good enough for Villas Adobes. 

As of right now, they’re aimless, but a bottle of something bubbly always helps Kitty think straight. Unsurprisingly, her laugh is brighter thanks to the sweet drink that’s still fizzing on her tongue. Jennifer is right, any chance to get wasted is a chance worth taking, and that’s the motto they both live by. Reckless, thoughtless, always looking for a thrill so they can feel something. “There always is.” Kitty answers, taking the bottle away from Jennifer’s grasp to take a healthy swig from it. Champagne, like wine, is just like juice to Kitty. Besides, moscato is really no harder than ginger ale to a seasoned drinker like Kitty. “You remember Josh from that party in Midtown a few weeks ago? He’ll be there and you know he’s dying to fuck.” And they always are. No matter who they are, where they come from, or what they look like, they all want to fuck at some point. And because they want to fuck so badly, they make for such fun and easy targets to mess with. 

“They’ll be some party favors for there for us too, I checked.” Kitty knows that’ll definitely spark Jen’s interest. Alcohol is fine, but it’s the harder stuff that really makes for a good time. Both of them get so faded that they can barely remember what happened throughout the night. Hell, if can even remember the night that she’s had then it wasn’t a good night.  “We can get ready at my place. My mama and step dad are supposed to be gone and my brother should be at a sleepover.” It feels so juvenile to still be planning things around her family’s absence, but what choice does she have? Kitty’s so close to getting the hell out of the Edward’s house, but for now she has to deal with it. Every day brings her closer to her move out date. 

[kittybriar]

KIMIMELA‌:

an adolescent anachronism spurs up the tempo of kim’s heartbeat as kitty smiles at her. it’s not a need to be accepted by her, so much as it is a shadow of that old feeling, an imprint. these things have long since lost their importance to her, but when among the people she’s grown up with, she isn’t immune to falling back into other times. the cassidys, who raised her, always make her feel like a child. sonny maclean, who sought out to make a fool of her like some bad teen horror movie, fills her with a rage unmatched. and kitty briar, the girl who many considered the heather chandler of boot hill high, was someone who had looked out for kim before. it was like having a local celebrity pay for her coffee; there was something just the smallest bit special about it. it made her livid to be so childish, something between embarrassed and angry, but she liked kitty briar.

she can still remember the day that kitty came and broke the bad news to her–a couple other girls that remain faceless by memory at her side to verify. kim hadn’t felt rescued by sonny maclean like some poor outcast suddenly drawing the attention of a football player after getting contacts and a new wardrobe. no, kim had liked sonny because she felt understood by him and that was the ultimate betrayal. their family tragedies were not equivalent, but they had bonded them in some special way. or, it was special to kim, at least, and it was special to kim that kitty had warned her too. 

they were never close or even like friends, but that went a long way with kim. so when kitty briar’s face lights up to see her after not seeing each other for a long time, well, it’s just nice. it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t have to be nice to her because they work together just be nice to her. especially someone like kitty who knows about her family–who knows she grew up in the trailer park. she’s seen folks go from nice to distant after hearing the story of the liu family ranch from some busybody at the community center. returning the smile, she brushed the hair out of her face. “always shit to get into at yote’s.” she agreed. “yeah, it’s pretty good, actually. between it and may’s, i’m making do well enough.” nodding to the window at a park of cowboy boots with turquoise embroidery she smiled. “been saving up for those boots, you know? how’s life at the painted sky been treatin’ you?”

Now, this just looks so damn pretty. To someone who didn’t know them, to some newcomer who has, unfortunately, stumbled upon Boot Hill (drop the I, add an E), this might even look natural. To the naked eye they’re both just two girls, perhaps even good friends who’re just enjoying a sensible conversation. Who could see the almost translucent strings that are connected from Kimimela’s arms all the way up to Kitty’s fingers? It’s only obvious to Kitty that this is just show and tell and Kimimela is the puppet. Truly, a girl with such a tragic past should never be subjected to more torment, but Kitty is nothing if not relentless. She’s always liked to run her opponents into the ground, and Kim made herself an opponent for Kitty the very moment she went after something that belonged to her. To be branded an enemy in Kitty’s book is all but a death sentence, and the grim reaper always comes to collect. 

Kimimela could have very well been a decent girlfriend to Sonny. They could have held one another through their shared miseries, but no. Kitty can’t just sit on the sidelines and watch as their story plays out. She has to be a player, she has to be the only player. She’s never been particularly fond of chess, but she’s always been a master of strategy. Like pawns, she moved them across the board into spaces she deemed appropriate. Poor Kimimela was all too ready to believe the bullshit that fell from Kitty’s lips. Of course, it didn’t hurt that each word was twice dipped in store bought maple syrup and rolled in powdered sugar. Once Kim gave Sonny the cold shoulder, Kitty was there to pick up the pieces that she would later shatter all over again. Forget about her, Sonny. Kimimela Liu is fucking nuts. She’s a crazy bitch and everyone knows it. No one gives a fuck about her.

She doesn’t actually care about how Kim’s work life has been, but it feels appropriate to ask. Kitty knows that this isn’t an open and shut case. She has to feign interest in the girl, make her believe that she still cares about her so that she’ll stay far away from Sonny, and, by extension, the truth. “That’s good to hear. I’ll have to come and visit you at May’s sometime.” She won’t, but it’s a nice thought. Her attention is turned to the boots that are on display in the window. They’re pretty, but not exactly her style. Kitty’s willing to admit that they’d look nice on Kim and they go great with her skin tone. Kim may be a damn fool, but she’s far from ugly. “You should get ‘em. I’ll try to place ‘em on hold for you.” She pauses, turning back around at the question of how work has been for her. Boring, she wants to say. She’s so rarely on time for work and when she is there, she’s either nursing a hangover or fast asleep at the counter. “It’s a job. It helps me get by, so I guess that’s all I can ask for.” And that’s just life in Boot Hill. Everything is mediocre and people work just enough to get just enough out of life. “You want to come to Yote’s with me? It can get crazy sometimes, but I’ve got your back.” Another lie. The worst mistake Kim could make is to believe that Kitty Briar actually has her back about anything. 

[kittybriar]

I am dead tired after an entire day of moving furniture and cleaning my room, so like now there’s finally order in my life lmao. I’ll be responding to some messages but my replies will be out tomorrow! 

[kittybriar]

SONNY‌:

( @kittybriar​ )

kitty briar promised. that’s all sonny can think as he leaves the bucking horse, the short little trek down the street giving him enough time to clearly think this over. it rattles in his mind, over and over, kitty promised. kitty promised. she promised to treat him better, promised to prove that she wanted him in his life. that she wanted him. he’s not her little chew toy, but he feels like he’s made of rubber as he passes may’s—ignoring the inclination to look in and see if kim is still working, it may have propelled him further or brought him to his senses—and he can hear so many voices underneath kitty promised. his sister, begging him to forget kitty, stop going back to her, stop letting her do this. his mother, in her fleeting moments of clarity, asking him when he’s going to find a nice girl, settle down with someone, give her even more grandchildren. and finally, perhaps most clear, his brother’s voice, the drunken, gruff tone that sonny was sure gavin was putting on to sound more dangerous: girl ain’t even got any tits, why’re you so hung up on her?

it’s easy to ignore the voices when kitty promised is practically a siren. it floods his brain, occurring to him then that it’s not an excited repetition, a little chant to keep his rubber legs walking, it’s a promise to himself. this is it, this is the final chance, the last time sonny will willingly let kitty into his life. he will allow her one more chance, and only this one chance, to prove to him that she wants him. definition of insanity and all that. does he enjoy doing this to himself? does he enjoy giving his heart to her on a silver platter, letting her eat it with a knife and fork just to discard the remnants? if alison macclean is a glutton for punishment, no one doles it out better than kitty. if he looked in the window of may’s, if he saw his reflection, he’d only be disgusted and it would have nothing to do with red hair and freckles.

cheri’s dairi paradise is always busy. ever since he was a child, and long before it too, there had been a line from the window to the end of the parking lot. kitty’s nowhere in sight, the line would’ve been to talk to her instead of to order, so he sits on one of the picnic tables and massages the knuckle joints of his right hand with the other as he waits. god, it would be so like kitty to make such a big show of earning his forgiveness, just to blow him off when they’re supposed to meet up. she promised, she promised. it’s still repeating, hammering at his brain like woodpecker, as he finally sees the long, brown hair that he spent so much time staring at in high school. “hey,” sonny greets breathlessly, sitting up from the table. he smiles nervously and then gestures towards the ice cream cone-shaped building. “i know, this is very junior year.” of course, he wasn’t in school for kitty’s junior year, but the meaning is clear. he’s returned to his old habits, his heart is glittering on that shiny silver platter once more.

Rarely is Kitty Briar ever a woman of her word. Half truths and pretty lies that are meant to sound positively delectable upon the eardrum fell from rosebud lips so often that nothing Kitty said could ever be trusted. Everything’s all pale pink and glowing on the surface but it’s entirely rotten beneath the veneer. You see, all Kitty knows how to do is devour. There’s ruin running through her veins where blood ought to be, and her lips need only part once for tragedy to spill freely from them. Surely Kitty Briar is the horror that resides within Pandora’s infamous box. Many have been foolish enough to think themselves capable of lifting open the gilded lid, and every single one of them has fallen victim to the monster that lies in wait with blood on her teeth. Once bitten, they learn from their mistakes and close the box for good. Such isn’t the case for Alison MacClean. Sonny knows what it’s like to be burned by Kitty, only to return to her and kneel at her feet so that he can feel the flames against his back once more. He lets her in, he lets her whisper promises of forever in between long french kisses that taste an awful lot like cherries, and he lets her burn him. Kitty can make Sonny feel so alive and so dead at the same time, and she loves wielding such immense power over him. Like a bruised peach, Kitty sinks her thumbs into the most sensitive spots on Sonny’s heart until it’s punctured with irreparable holes. He winces in pain, and Kitty just laughs like the little sadist she is. 

This is how it goes between them: Sonny forgives, and Kitty disappoints. On and on the cycle continues and it becomes a story that everyone knows the ending to. Everyone knows how the song is sung. Everyone has prepared themselves for the rolling credits once the final scene of heartbreak fades to black. There is no alternate ending in which Kitty stays. There is no deleted footage of her running back into his arms and allowing the beating of her heart to tell him just how much she loves him. It’s only pain, and it’s kind of pain that Sonny must endure alone. Kitty can’t imagine what life would look like without her catching him staring longingly at her or having him drop everything the moment she calls for him. She loves to be adored by him, to cherished by him. So, she’ll say whatever it takes to keep his adoration in her back pocket where it belongs. She’ll sabotage any relationship he manages to create with other girls because he’ll always belong to her. It’s his heart that’s been drained, dipped in gold, and placed on her mantle. The only time Kitty actually feels something close to being full is when she’s squeezing it. Oh, Sonny. When will you learn? 

He wants her to love him, and she wants to be his everything. He wants her to let him in the same way he lets her in, but it’s impossible because where most girls have a heart, Kitty only has a timer and all affection ends at the sound of the buzzer. Hearts, like promises are meant to broken, and maybe that’s sad to hear, but it’s the truth. So, Kitty arrives late and it’s on purpose, of course. Mama says to always keep them waiting because it makes them want you even more. If Sonny wanted Kitty more than he already does, his fucking chest would explode from the amount of torture that Kitty has it under. Her little white baby doll dress with pale blue flowers puts forth an image of a girl that couldn’t be further from the person that Kitty really is. Which is more blasphemous, a priest getting a blowjob after Sunday Mass, or Kitty wearing mostly white? The jury is still out on that one. 

As she approaches Sonny, she’s the picture of western charm. Her smile is warmer than a late night in mid July and her near waist length brown hair spills almost elegantly down her back in loose waves. Picture perfect. “Hey, stranger”. He’s fumbling already and she hasn’t said more than two words to him. Secretly, she thinks its sweet. Of course, he can’t know that. He’ll never know that. “It’s cute. I’m glad we’re here. Let’s get a chocolate and vanilla cone with sprinkles.” It’s uncertain which is more sweet, the ice cream or her words but they’re both the stuff that causes tooth decay. Standing in line with him, she mindlessly slips arm through the loop of his own to lock them together, bringing him closer to her and letting her scent creep up on him. The fragrance is flowery yet empty like somethings missing. Nevertheless, the gesture feels natural. Perhaps a bit too natural at times. “You probably thought I wouldn’t come. But I told you, I meant what I said, Allie.” She says it teasingly as she continues to hold on to him. He hates that nickname. He hates it just as much as she hates any adaptation of Katherine. She’s probably the only person who manages to get away with it. It’s a perk of having her name etched on to his heart. As they reach the counter, Kitty leans in and orders for the both of them. It’s so like her to just take control of everything and she knows that Sonny won’t raise any objections. 

[kittybriar]

CHARLOTTE‌:

@kittybriar​ / lotte + kitty !

the  painted  sky  boutique  was  a  unique  little  store  in  that  it  was  pretty  much  the  only  one  that  sold  clothing  in  boot  hill.  with  lotte  at  the  helm,  it  had  been  a  well  oiled  little  machine.  sure,  every  store  had  its  kinks  but  they  weren’t  anything  truly  insurmountable.  hell,  lotte  might  have  even  found  a  workaround  for  kitty’s  attendance.  as  kitty  walked  into  the  store  at  a  prompt  1:05,  lotte  raised  a  brow.  

❛  y’know  you  were  scheduled  to  be  here  at  eleven,  right  ?  ❜  lotte  asked  in  that  way  kitty  knew,  in  that  way  that  implied  she  wanted  an  answer  but  wasn’t  going  to  press  the  issue  further.  she  kept  her  spot,  leant  over  the  counter  next  to  the  register.  ❛  and  you  also  know  that  you  don’t  get  paid  for  the  time  that  you’re  not  here.  ❜  

that  was  less  a  question  and  more  of  an  assertive  reminder.  not  one  that  totally  mattered,  of  course.  the  painted  boutique  paid  more  an  hour  than  anywhere  other  retail  location  in  boot  hill  and  kitty  was  one  of  the  only  employees  other  than  lotte.  the  beautiful  thing,  however,  is  that  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things,  kitty  was  only  five  minutes  late.  though  lotte  had  given  her  a  schedule  that  said  eleven,  the  master  copy  said  one.

Kitty isn’t a hard working employee and anyone with eyes can see that. She only works when she feels like it and that isn’t very often.  It’s not nearly as often as her boss would like, but Kitty can’t be bothered to really care about what other people expect from her anyhow. Sonny expects her to care about him, her teachers expected her to strive for greatness, her mother expects her to stop being such a fucking drunk. Expectations make her skin crawl. It’s all thanks to the dreaded curse of fickleness, and the side effects include: aimlessness, boredom, immaturity, and carelessness. What dangerous disease for a girl who’s already been deemed more elusive than the wind itself. In all honesty, she won’t be working at the boutique for the rest of her life. At some point, she’ll just stop coming once she’s made enough money to get an apartment and make her roommates pay her share of the rent every month. The problem with that is, saving money takes discipline. Every dollar wasted on shots of whiskey and pretty makeup is a dollar that doesn’t go to her goal of getting the hell out of the Edward’s house. At this rate, it’s just a matter of time before Lotte lays down the law and gets rid of the Briar girl once and for all. After all, Kitty would deserve it. She’s such a shitty employee. 

She strolls into the front door promptly at 1:05; a decent time if you were to ask her. Kitty can’t quite remember exactly what time she was actually supposed to come in to work today, but any appearance is better than no appearance albeit a late one. She’s greeted, not with a smile but with a look of annoyance that burns almost as much as the words that drip from her boss’ lips. Here we fucking go again. “I thought it said one. I couldn’t leave my little brother at home alone. My mom left earlier than usual to go teach a water aerobics class down at the community pool.” It’s halfway true. Her mother did leave early but Kitty wasn’t late as a result of watching her little brother. She was completely hungover and slept through her alarm. By the time she woke up, she decided that she may as well go and get lunch from the Cantina and have a bloody mary to set her mind straight. “I know that. I’ll stay later to make up for it. Don’t forget, it’s the gift giving season, people are buying more clothes now than ever. I’ll make us some sales, Lotte.” Kitty doesn’t take well to authority, and so she refrains from using Ms, Mr, or Mrs. as much as possible. Lotte wasn’t better than her just because she’s her boss. Lotte owns a clothing store, she’s not a fucking god. “Besides, no one ever comes in here earlier than three o’clock anyway.”