((RP account for Heinous Doxy, or Mobsterswitched Hysterical Dame))
Post reblogged from Captain Ice Queen with 1 note
Oh. Hello. To what do I owe this pleasure?
Oh, no Miss Snow, please, the pleasure is all mine.
Source: queen-of-eights
Post reblogged from Peccant Scofflaw with 5 notes
((Butts))
Butts
((butts))
((YES. GOOD.))
Source: bluhbluhhotstud
Photo reblogged from hogwash with 39 notes
i was debating whether or not i should go out for a smoke..then i saw this on facebook. so i take it as a sign that i should.
((CASUALLY
DETECTIVE))
Source: annieschenturrrr
Post reblogged from Pernicious Innovator with 6 notes
==>Get that bitch some groceries
“I, ah.” You itch your head absent-mindedly. “I have been u-under the weather. That’s all.”
It’s not a lie, really. Just a half-truth. You’re under a lot of medication and healing isn’t much different from recovering from a bad illness. Still doesn’t explain away the bruises.
Just in case, you refrain from contact.
“Detective brought him here,” you admit. There’s no reason to lie to Doxy, because Doxy isn’t liable to figure it out, much less go to Deadeye’s apartment and slit his throat. “He w-was a gift, to help me f-feel better. Fortunately, he a-also supplied me with cat food.”
The stash is upstairs, because you want to make as few trips down here as possible.
“He likes you,” you point out. It’s appropriate, really. Doxy is what you have lovingly dubbed your ‘obnoxious friend’ (the one you frequently get drunk and act childishly with), and Chami is acting rather obnoxious right now, the way he insists on rubbing against her and mewling hysterically for attention.
“Oh well psh, tell me then and I would’a brought you medicine, and maybe brandy, though I guess you shouldn’t mix the two, hehe.” You give him a playful shove to the shoulder, unaware of his physical state. Really you are oblivious sometimes. The bruises don’t trouble you much. You chalk it up to Scofflaw roughing him up again. You make a note to give him a hard time over it. I mean honestly, if poor In’s feeling sick you shouldn’t smack him around, that’s just rude. You puff up at the fact that once again you’re winning the ‘better friend to Innovator than Scofflaw’ competition. Hah. Mental note give Scoff a hard time about that as well. You’ll visit him once you’re done here.
“Still chumming it up with the Company then, heh, interesting, wouldn’t ‘f thought Dee’d have any ounce of caring in ‘im at all.” Damn. That was really thoughtful. Something fuzzy and adorable to keep In’ company and bother him when it was time to eat. Son of a bitch. You scowl as Detective skyrockets past both you and Scofflaw in thoughtfulness. Can’t tell Scoff about that, need to make him believe you’re still winning. Sometimes you are terrible and shallow people.
“You absolutely must bring him to work. Ah! I’ll pick up some stuff and a collar for him, ‘nless you want to come to the store and pick ‘em out yourself, you feelin’ up to shopping? You really should get some air, it’s been lovely out.” With this you’re being genuine. It’s true you bicker with Scofflaw over who’s a better friend but you do so because you care for the both of them, and honestly they’re terrible to each other. You want Innovator to come with you because he needs to get out and it’ll be healthy for him. A healthy amount of peer pressure to get him out of the house.
Source: heinousdoxy
Photo reblogged from Lingerie & Bikini with 15 notes
Buttress & Snatch Lingerie 2012
Source: lingerienbikini
Post reblogged from Pernicious Innovator with 6 notes
==>Get that bitch some groceries
Stairs. Stairs are what you’ve been working on since you first heard somebody enter your home. It takes work to clear them when your body naturally shies away from ache, and you have to go step by step. Even Chami can beat you down, and he is barely big enough to clear a single step. He beats you to Doxy by a long shot.
You’re relieved when Doxy’s high-pitched murdered dolphin shriek barrages your ears. You’re relieved because it’s Doxy and not Scofflaw.
You stay out of sight until you can breathe and move easy. You stow the limp, suffer through the aches, level your respiratory rate, and put on a smile to distract from the faded bruises on your face. It’s not the first time you’ve gotten your shit kicked, and Doxy’s not involved enough in Scoundrel business to know that it didn’t happen at work. Hopefully.
“Afternoon, Doxy,” you say, minding your manners. “I-I am aware. His n-name is Chami. Like chamomile.”
Your cat has taken to Doxy the way everyone else does. She isn’t very ladylike (despite dress style) and she isn’t nearly as bright as Bawd is, but she’s sweet and charming in her own way, and she is a very good friend. She keeps you from starving and is always available to help you drown your sorrows in good liquor at four in the morning.
If only she and Scofflaw weren’t so close, you would happily tell her all about your abusive? relationship.
You hide it instead, and you grin and hug her just like you always do. “Thank you f-for stopping by. I had about r-run out of my chai.” You have yet to actually look at all the things Doxy has brought, and you probably will never take a full survey. You don’t need to look; she knows you well enough.
“Oh my god that’s cute as shit.” You regard the kitten as he curls under your neck. “A pet, sheesh you can barely take care of yourself and now you’re a dad,” You laugh at the thought of Innovator raising anything, unhooking Chami’s claws from the fabric of your dress. More likely than not he’d put the cat first and forget to feed himself, as per usual. Well, at least remembering the cat would be a good first step. “Guess I’ll have to add cat food to the list, what’ve you been feedin’ this little bugger? You can feed i’m tuna and such- oh he’ll need a collar if you’re really keepin’ him, oh man” You squeal again, you can’t contain yourself, the thing is simply precious. “Where even d’you find him?”
You’re so absorbed in the new addition to the mobster’s life that you don’t notice anything amiss with Innovator himself until you finally examine his face. Bruised, but healing, but paler than usual and exhausted. Probably clammy if you felt his forehead, visibly stressed from exertion, like he’d been running a fever and simply getting out of bed was physically taxing enough to warrant labored breathing.
“Jesus you look like shit.” Polite.
Source: heinousdoxy
Post with 6 notes
==>Get that bitch some groceries
Bitches love groceries.
And also it’s your turn to show up at Innovator’s unannounced with milk and basic food stuffs in tow, making sure the frail man is still alive holed up in his house alone, and making sure he’s eaten something that day. Between you and Bawd, and occasionally Scofflaw, this happens roughly once a week. Roughly. It all depends on the length of time in which no one has heard from him. This time it’s been almost a week. Not enough time to be any cause for alarm, but still enough to warrant a check up, and a new half gallon of milk and a few boxes Innovator’s obscure and expensive brand teas.
Actually you bring him more than that, because damn if you’re not a great friend. You let yourself in through his front door and unceremoniously plop the bags down on his counter and set to organizing without even checking if he was home. English muffins, those wouldn’t spoil, right? Probably best to put them in the fridge anyway, give em an extra week or two. You didn’t bother with things that would spoil anymore. Some sandwich supplies, canned soups, microwaveable dinner foods, all easily prepared foods that wouldn’t go bad when Innovator would inevitably not notice and/or forget about them. You also reason that if the food takes less effort to prepare he’ll be more inclined to eat like a normal human being. Frozen vegetables you’ve nearly stopped buying altogether, since firstly fresh vegetables were not an option and secondly you were pretty sure Innovator was completely unaware of the fact he owned a freezer judging by the unchanging state of its contents every time you visited. Which is why today you were surprised to find it completely cleared out of any and all vegetables. Odd. You disregard it and deposit one (1) block of frozen spinach, one (1) bag of frozen carrots, and one (1) bag containing several (~) fun sized milky way bars. If he’s discovered his freezer then he’ll appreciate the chocolate, if not you’ll make sure to tell him later.
You hear a minor clang behind you as something falls. Not uncommon considering the dangerous array of scraps and bits of experiments strewn about the house. Still the noise catches your attention briefly before you turn back to the groceries. And then you turn promptly back around because tiny balls of black fur staring at you with wide eyes from the doorway to the kitchen are entirely and completely uncommon.
The noise you make is completely respectable and lady-like. Completely. Although it must have been much higher pitched than you intended judging by the creature’s subsequent full body flinch. You drop to the floor apologetically and start with a round of pusspusspspspsspsspss. The kitten is forgiving now that you’re on its level, and comes up against your hand with curiosity.
“Now how in the hell’d you get in here little guy?” You coo, tapping your fingernails against the linoleum, which the cat bats at with his itty paws. You scoop it up with little perceived protest and proceed with the ritualistic nuzzlings required upon meeting small fuzzy animals. But you’re on a mission. You’re eyes dart across the house, briefly checking for open windows, open doors, any way the little guy could’ve gotten in.
“In’!” You start down the hall, checking rooms for the mobster, “Innovator you aware you got a cat in here?”
Post reblogged from Peccant Scofflaw with 4 notes
You smile wide, all teeth and happiness for your main dame. Sliding the bottle into her hands, you lead the lady up to the stage with all your charm in tact. “Nah, darlin’, I wasn’t waitin’ long. Got plenty a’ people here in town ta keep me company, but only one who I’d really like to share it with.” You toss her a wink, calming your nerves by, well. Hitting on her. It’s your natural habitat with Doxy, and she knows it.
She knows you quite well, inside and out. You two have a bit of a dance, a nice, steady relationship.
You lower yourself onto the piano bench, smile up at her, one ankle resting on the other thigh. “Glad I could save ya from that nasty, nasty paperwork.”
You take a swig then take his hand as he leads you to the piano. You roll your eyes at his comments but you have to admit they still get you from time to time. You bend over when he sits, bringing your faces close together as you run a finger along the brim of his hat. “Goodness it’s been absolutely dreadful.” You drape your arms lazily across his shoulders. “You have got to find someone else to sort out inventory and whatnot, the numbers and all is a god damn nightmare.” The audience, of course, is giving the two of you their full attention, some patrons staring more discreetly than others. How often does one see the Peccant Scofflaw and Heinous Doxy, together, on stage.
Source: peccantscofflaw
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