#not to mention she’s now buddy-buddy with our landlord who she hates?

[drowningbpdbodies]

“You’re so quiet, what’s on your mind?” My body is a prison and my soul is its prisoner

[lassieposting]

skulduggery/alt!serpine for the getting together ask game?

I’m bored, so. Send me two (or more) characters for a headcanon on how I’d have them get together

OHOHOHOHO SEE THIS IS A GOOD ONE BC

ive already been thinking about this and im. Lowkey really glad im not the only one

See I always hated skug with any serpine, like I was a passionate anti from 2007 - about three months ago but. I enjoyed their dynamic in phase one and then i read like three of their interactions from sow and got converted or some shit apparently idfk, anyway u know i love an angsty ship

this got really long so tldr; enemies to vitriolic hate-sex buddies to lovers, painfully slow burn, but they'll both die claiming they still hate each other

It begins with China.

She orders him to kill Serpine, and he refuses. He's not even 100% sure why when he does. It's not like they're friends. He's killed people he liked a good deal more than Nefarian Serpine under orders.

But she says, "kill him" and he says, "no", and then things spiral so quickly that it's actually a few days before he even has time to think about her parting shot, flung at him as he walked out on her: "if you want to keep him, you'll be the one looking after him. He's your responsibility, not mine. And if he hurts someone, you -"

He'd shut the door on her at that point, but he knows what she was going to say. You look after him yourself, you train him yourself, and if he hurts someone, you kill him yourself. A wonderfully old-world way of looking at things. He's fairly sure he remembers getting the same speech from the housekeeper when he tried to bring home the ugliest feral tomcat he'd ever seen as a small boy.

(This will come back to bite him. He's not sure how or when, but it will. That's the way of things, whenever he turns his back on China Sorrows. Her last parting shot - a classic "you'll regret this" - ended up getting him killed.)

But then there's Mevolent, and cleaning up a city in the aftermath of its latest Traumatic Event, and putting a size 10 to the backsides of the City Guard, so his priorities get reshuffled somewhat, and it's almost a week later that he thinks to ask, "Heard from Serpine lately? He's being oddly quiet."

Valkyrie blinks at him from the passenger seat. Her fingertips tap tap tap at the touchscreen. She's messaging someone. He doesn't know who. "He's...around."

"Why the pause?"

"Hm?"

"You paused," he points out, switching lanes to get around a hatchback dawdling along at 60. "He's...around. You're trying to hide something from me. I'm aware you still talk to him, you know."

She doesn't deny it. He's gotten used to that, in the last few years. She doesn't tell him things anymore. It's that distance, the distance he can try to banter over but never truly remove. She's a lot further away than his passenger seat. "He's been looking for somewhere to live, like. Now that he's here for good. So, you know. That's probably keeping him busy."

Nefarian Serpine is living out of a stuffy first-floor rented room above, of all things, Vaurien Scapegrace's pub.

He knows this not because China was having Serpine followed (although she was) or because plenty of old faces from the Sanctuary still owe him favours (although they do), but because he receives a text from Scapegrace at a quarter to midnight, in the middle of a grisly murder scene.

have u beaten anyone up lately? do u want to? think thrasher just rented one of our rooms to a war criminal

He taps out a response, half-focused on the screen and half on Valkyrie examining the photos on the dead man's mantelpiece. She looks like she's just figured something out.

Which one? Thrasher, or the other guy?

By the time he's dropped her home, said hello to the furball and returned to the city, morning is bleeding into the sky. He knocks sharply on Nefarian Serpine's peeling rented door, and then again when there's no response.

From inside, a thud.

Then another, followed by some deeply impolite language, and then the door jerks open. Serpine, wearing an impressive bedhead, a scraggly attempt at a beard and a pair of patterned socks with a hole in the toe, squints out into the hall and snaps, "D'you have ANY IDEA what time it is? This place is supposed to - ah, shite. It's you."

"It is," he agrees.

Serpine gives him a sulky jerk of the head - an invitation - and vanishes back inside. He follows, closing the door gently behind him. Inside the room is dark and depressing and smells faintly of mildew and sweat. There are clothes on the floor.

He pulls the curtains open and looks out the window, giving Serpine some privacy to get dressed.

"Found me at last, have you?" Serpine asks from over by the bed. There's a rustle of fabric and the sound of a belt being done up. "What do you want? Come to take my other hand?"

That's it. That's what's different. "Other? You don't seem to be missing any at present, Nefarian. Valkyrie's work, I take it."

Serpine sits down on the bed with a squeak of springs, and when Skulduggery turns to face him, he's smirking and, thankfully, wearing trousers. "Ever so nice of her, wasn't it? Doesn't work like the old one, though. You know. The one I used on you."

He sighs. "And here I thought this last week would've given you time to come up with some new material."

Serpine shrugs and spends a moment picking out a pair of shirts from the wardrobe beside the bed. If it's a test, it's a painfully obvious one. Almost an invitation. Go ahead, shoot me.

No, this is something Skulduggery knows far more intimately. A display of brittle confidence in the face of a threat. I'm not afraid of you. Do your worst.

Serpine is afraid of him. Afraid of being arrested, maybe, or killed, or worse. He'd have relished that fear, once. Delighted in flipping the tables.

He leans back against the desk, ankles crossed and arms folded. After a moment, Serpine turns around with a shirt on a hanger in each hand. He holds them up for an opinion.

Skulduggery points wordlessly at the green one, and the blue goes back in the closet. "If you're not here to kill me, what do you want?"

While Serpine is doing up his buttons, Skulduggery retrieves the folded sheaf of paper from the inside pocket of his long coat, and holds it up. "I came to drop these off."

Serpine's vibrant eyes narrow. "What is that? An arrest warrant?"

"A list of landlords in Roarhaven willing to rent to refugees. Valkyrie mentioned you were looking."

Serpine blinks at him. Skulduggery doesn't often bother with the facade in Roarhaven, but if he had a face right now, he'd be blinking back. It's a weirdly awkward moment.

"...thanks," Serpine says after a moment, tentatively reaching for the papers; Skulduggery leans forward to pass them over. "That'd be...helpful."

He sounds very uncomfortable saying those words. When Skulduggery responds, "You're welcome," he feels much the same.

Serpine unfolds the papers and skims them. Three pages of property listings. Tipstaff had printed them off for him with only a raised eyebrow and a, "Never thought you'd move out of Dublin, Detective."

"What brought this on?"

He looks up. "Hm?"

"You show up here at an ungodly hour of the morning, nobody to rein you in, and you're being helpful? I don't buy it. I know China as well as you do. She told you to kill me, didn't she?"

"She did," Skulduggery acknowledges, and a very old, very spiky part of him gets a kick out of watching the blood drain from Serpine's face. "I told her no."

"Bollocks."

"Hard to believe, isn't it? But it's true. Ah, don't look at me like that, Nefarian. It's got nothing to do with you. I was just feeling argumentative that day. And, if nothing else, I can always rely on China to argue with me if I tell her no."

"So -"

"For my sins, she made you my responsibility, see. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't get up to any of your old tricks. And if you do, then I'll kill you. I'll be checking in on you to make sure you're behaving yourself. Think of me as a...probation officer, of sorts. With benefits."

More blinking. This version of Serpine is not a morning person. He bets his alternate self got to sleep in far later in this Serpine's dungeon. "I'm not seeing any benefits."

"The benefit is I get to kill you if you step out of line. I never said the benefits were for you."

"Are there any benefits in this for me?"

He considers this for a moment. "You get to live. Because of me. I saved your life. "

Serpine's face is emotionless and his voice is flat.

"Oh," he says. "Yippee."

He's interviewing a witness when his phone rings.

He politely excuses himself, and steps out into the hallway to answer it. "Pleasant."

"Hello!" Serpine says brightly, and launches immediately into, "I want a car."

Skulduggery's fake face blinks at the sigil-embossed wallpaper. It takes a second to even register the voice, and another to pick up on -

"How the -? Who gave you this number?"

"Valkyrie." Serpine sounds completely unapologetic. "And you're supposed to be teaching me to drive."

Serpine can't see his head tilt. He does it anyway. "Am I now? And what gave you that idea?"

"I'm your problem now, remember? Besides, you agreed to it," is the smug answer. "Before our little holiday back to my dimension, I said I wanted a better house and a latte and a car. And driving lessons."

"I never agreed to that."

"Well, you didn't say no. That's agreement by default. Sorry."

"Plenty of people can teach you to drive, Nefarian. You could teach yourself, even. Watch a video on Youtube."

"Detective Pleasant, I am shocked," Serpine teases, suddenly dripping with insincere concern. "Think of all those poor defenceless mortals I could run into. There's an advert on the television about how you're specifically not supposed to hit them with cars. It kills them, apparently. How will I cope without you there to make sure I resist temptation?"

Skulduggery grinds his teeth. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely. I'd completely forgotten how much fun it is to have you at my mercy. And you did say you're supposed to keep an eye on me."

Skulduggery goes quiet for a moment, focusing on reining in the urge to hit something. Serpine's face. He wants to hit Serpine's face. With a chair. Trust him to figure out that being Skulduggery's responsibility meant he could go to him for help.

"Fine."

"Excellent! And now you have my number, so you can let me know when you're free."

"Since when do you have a mobile?"

"Since today," Serpine says airily. "Tanith helped me pick one out. I can talk to anyone, anywhere, whenever I like now. Isn't that great? I mean, I only have two numbers, three now that Valkyrie's given me yours, but still. Now I'll always have someone to talk to."

"This is a work line. It is not for social calls."

A passing sorcerer startles a little at his tone, and he gives her an apologetic smile. As an afterthought, he rolls his eyes in a you know how it is gesture. But she's already walking away, so really he just rolls his eyes at her back, which is probably rude of him.

Serpine is still talking. "- can send little moving pictures, and I've downloaded all these little applications, so now I do all sorts of fun things. Do you use...whatsit...Snapchat? I have Snapchat now. And I've got Angry Birds and Candy Crush and Grindr."

And that? That right there? That is more than he ever needed to know about Serpine.

"Goodbye, Nefarian," he says firmly, and hangs up.

He checks in on Serpine once a week, officially. Unofficially, he clocks more hours than he'd like to admit parked in an alley outside Scapegrace's pub, waiting for someone to scream bloody murder. Serpine spots him a couple of times, gives him a jaunty wave with his newly-regrown hand on his way to the off-licence, mocking and unconcerned.

But nobody gets murdered. Serpine seems to be...behaving. For now.

"I've volunteered you for move-in duty," Valkyrie says, apropos of nothing. When he blinks at her, she shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. "Serpine's found a flat. He needs some furniture shifting."

He's not going to throw anything at his partner in this busy mortal cafe. He's not.

"I see. And you thought that has anything to do with me because..."

She polishes off the last dregs of her drink with a slurp. "I can't float stuff up stairs."

The apartment Serpine is moving into is a decent two-bedroom on the fourth floor of a six-floor block in a quiet area with a history of minimal unexpected-demolitions-by-overpowered-supervillain. Skulduggery idly wonders, as he pulls up in the parking area behind the building, whether a mass murderer moving in - and the frequent visits by the other mass murderer charged with keeping an eye on him - will bring down housing prices. China will hate that, when she wakes up.

Serpine is waiting for him out front, surrounded by boxes and furniture, already looking a bit frazzled. His outfit is stylish and his slicked-back hair is sticking up in places where he's been running his hands though it. He startles and looks up at the sound of footsteps, and seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Ah! You came. Valkyrie said you'd know how to go about getting all this, you know. Up there."

"You can hire people for this, you know," Skulduggery tells him. "Removal men."

"With what money?" Serpine asks, a little helplessly. "Valkyrie gave me some of her old things, but I got most of this from - what's the word? - second hand shops, and the refugee aid centre. I've been looking for work, but...you know." He gestures at his face. "This is my criminal record."

Which...is a fair point, so Skulduggery rolls up his sleeves and moves to one end of a squashed two-seater couch. "Fair enough. Grab the other end."

Serpine's mouth almost drops open. "You want to carry it? Like peasants? I thought you were here to float the damn thing!"

Well, he could. But the world isn't actively ending right now, so he can afford to be petty. "I don't use magic unless I have to, these days. We'll be doing this the old-fashioned way."

"But." The last time he saw someone look this aghast was when Valkyrie realised how the citizens of Roarhaven saw her. "But that's manual labour!"

"A little manual labour will do you good."

"Gods, I hate you," Serpine tells him as he moves to grab the other end of the couch.

Skulduggery turns the facade on specifically to give him a smug smirk. "I know."

By the time they're finishing up the boxes, Serpine's new neighbours have come out into the hall to see what all the banging is about. They seem young, mostly - too young to recognise him from the war. Skulduggery is starting to suspect that Serpine has accidentally moved into student housing, but he keeps his mouth shut. Serpine is being chatty and charming, holding court in the corridor, and Skulduggery mostly lets him get on with it in between trips to the bottom of the stairs to pick up more boxes, until a young woman who holds Serpine's front door open for him and chuckles, "Left you doing all the work, has he? He's a talker, your boyfriend. I bet you don't get a word in edgewise."

It's not often that Skulduggery Pleasant is lost for words. "I. I'm sorry. What?"

Fortunately, Serpine chooses that moment to interrupt the conversation he's having and interject, "Oh, no, darling. We're not together. He's just here to make sure I stay out of trouble."

There's something off about how he says it, though. There must be, because the woman taps her nose like he's just confided a secret, and Skulduggery can't help but feel like he's just been made the butt of a joke he doesn't fully understand.

He checks on Serpine once a week. Occasionally Serpine texts him. A blurry photo, usually paired with a caption like, "what the hell is this?"; a set of traffic lights, or a lollipop man, or a chihuahua in a little jumper. Sometimes he responds, but sometimes he doesn't bother.

It's not like they're friends.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing, Roarhaven's shopping district is bustling, and Nefarian Serpine is late.

Skulduggery's been people-watching, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, for fifteen minutes when he finally shows up with a to-go coffee cup in one hand and a stack of books under the other arm. He's frowning.

"You're late," says Skulduggery, by way of greeting.

Serpine shrugs, taking the seat opposite. He dumps his books on the round table and gives the menu a cursory glance. "Sorry. I was at the library. Almost missed the bus."

A waitress approaches wearing a shirt stamped with the logo of the little bistro they're sat outside, and while Serpine orders lunch, Skulduggery idly examines the titles stamped along the spines of his book mountain. Some of them look old, leather bound tomes with fancy gold lettering, and the rest seem to be...textbooks, of all things.

"A little light reading, Nefarian?"

"Huh?" Serpine - busy watching the waitress walk back inside - swivels round to face him, and shrugs. "Oh. Yeah. I want to see if they match up with the slanderous shite they're teaching at the university."

"Excuse me?"

Serpine shrugs. "Vapid and Ty - you know Ty, weird hair, lives next door - thought it might help me adapt if I learn more about how your world is different to mine, so. I've been sitting in on some classes. Unofficially. History. Mortal Relations. That kind of thing. You have battles here that never happened back home, you know."

Skulduggery folds his arms across his chest and leans back in his chair, amused despite himself. "Mortal Relations? You're going to Mortal Relations lectures. You."

"Shut up," says Serpine, pointing a finger at him. "You don't get to laugh. You're not the one nobody wants to hire. - because that's still a problem, by the way. Aren't you supposed to be helping me with that?"

"I'm supposed to be making sure you don't kill anyone or make a nuisance of yourself. Sorry to disappoint."

"Would it kill you to write me a character reference?"

Skulduggery coughs conspicuously into his gloved hand with the throat he doesn't have. He picks up the top book from Serpine's stack and flips idly through Religion & Warfare: The Rise Of The Church Of The Faceless In The 15th Century . "Think about that one for a minute, Nefarian, and you'll remember why it's not happening."

"Fine. Be like that." Serpine's shoe nudges his leg under the table. "Here, were you at the Battle of Black Rock?"

He has to think about that one for a second, then hums in the negative. "Hm. No. I missed that one. I think that was when I was holed up in Cork with a broken leg. Why?"

"History 201," Serpine muses. "I tagged along this morning. It was mostly about that fight, but it never happened in my dimension. It was borderline slanderous, honestly. The professor is an imbecile."

"You're dying to vent, aren't you?"

"Would you mind terribly?"

Skulduggery pulls his ornate pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket and checks the time. "You've got fifteen minutes. Better talk fast."

Time goes by.

He checks on Nefarian once a week. They have coffee, sometimes. Valkyrie knows not to cross the line of bringing Serpine to Skulduggery's home, but she adds them both to a group chat and neither one leaves.

Nefarian wrecks his first car, and Skulduggery makes the drive out from Dublin at 5.45am to rescue him. He calls the tow truck while Serpine sits, pale and shaken, in the Bentley's front seat, drenched from the rain and squelching miserably every time he moves.

He apologises for calling so early, and for once he sounds like he means it.

Skulduggery takes him through the McDonalds drive thru to cheer him up, and as Nefarian tucks into a box of fries with gusto, he thinks, oh no.

They're not friends. They're not.

"Is this a date?"

Skulduggery tilts his head, hand stilling over the car keys. "I'm sorry?"

Valkyrie tosses another piece of popcorn into her mouth. She's already in her pyjamas, fluffy ones with dogs on them, and she's flicking through the Netflix queue. "You're all dressed up. Is this a date? Have you two finally gotten over yourselves? God knows it's been long enough."

He snatches up the car keys and sniffs, disdainful. "After all these decades, Valkyrie, if that's what your expert detective skills are telling you, I have failed as a mentor."

"And now you're getting defensive."

"I'm doing no such thing. Where's Tanith, by the way?"

She laughs and does double fingerguns at him. "And that's deflection!"

He sighs - dramatically, for her benefit - and as he checks his pocket watch, she continues, "And, she's on her way. Get out, already. You have a date to keep and we have movies to watch."

"It's not a bloody date," he complains, patting his pockets to make sure he's got everything. "And I originally asked you."

"Yeah, but opera's boring. Here, is he meeting you there or are you picking him up?"

"Goodbye, Valkyrie."

"See?!" She shouts after him as he shuts the front door. "Date!"

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 3

Trigger warning: Mentions of domestic abuse

“It’s been 3 days Riv. You’re gonna have to talk to me about what the fuck happened the other day.” Tommy says standing on my balcony smoking a cigarette.

How do I even begin to explain myself though? I swipe his pack of cigarettes off the railing and light one taking a drag. Tommy raises an eyebrow at my actions, but otherwise is non reactive to the nasty habit I’ve picked up and quit for what felt like a million times.

“I’ve known Kevin most of my life.” I start, my voice already beginning to shake. “He is a few years older than me and worked on my grandparent’s farm and I was head over heels for him. Like I used to follow him around as he cleaned the barns level in love because he was always so kind and sweet to me.”

Tommy just nods his head along and I continue.

“We got married right after I graduated high school and that was when he stopped being so sweet. He found he preferred cuddling a bottle of vodka at night a lot more than he liked cuddling up with me. Then, instead of hitting the bottles, he hit me.”

Tommy’s hand curls into a fist at his side and he blows hard out of his nose. “Go on” he says and I can tell he’s working on keeping his cool.

“When I found out I was pregnant the beatings stopped for a little bit. He, um, seemed really happy for a while and I really thought this was what we needed to be happy again. Boy was I wrong.” I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face until I felt them hitting my trembling hands in my lap.

“He came home one night drunker than I had ever seen him and meaner than he had any right to be and just let loose on me. A neighbor heard me screaming thank god and called the cops or I might have died that night along with our baby. We come from a pretty small town so there wasn’t much help for me to leave him, most people thought it wasn’t their business. About a month later I took every last dime I had, all the clothes I could carry, and left my ring and the life I had under ‘Rebecca’ there and came to L.A.. That was about a year ago.”

I looked down to see Tommy had silently slipped his hands into mine as I was recounting the story that I had hoped to never have to explain to anybody. He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

“I promise you Riv, I will kill him if he so much as looks at you again.” I’m soon crushed against Tommy’s chest in a tight hug and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the safest I had ever felt in the last year. Hell, the last few years.

“Thank you Tommy, but I don’t want you boys to get caught in the crossfire.”

“What else will you do then?” He asks quietly.

“Probably pack up and move elsewhere. Somewhere he can’t find me.”

“No.” Tommy says standing straight up. “No you can’t leave Riv we just started being friends.” He paces back and forth on the small balcony while lighting another cigarette.

“You guys are on your way to doing big shit T-Bone. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“That’s even more of a reason to let the guys and I protect you?” He says as if it’s obvious. “Besides, you’re our photographer. Who else is going to capture all the nudity on camera?”

“You know for a second there you weren’t a gross pig.” I try to not mirror Tommy’s face splitting grin, but I’m not that strong.

“Atta girl.” He bounces up and walks in my house as if he lives there and calls behind him “Come on let’s go to the diner for pancakes. My treat.” I didn’t question how he earned the money to pay this time. I knew it was rarely legal.

I double over laughing in the booth for nearly the tenth time at another story of the stupid shit Tommy has done. We’re the same age, but I can’t help but feel inferior in the life I’ve lived. Besides packing up and moving out of town to come to L.A. on a whim, I haven’t done anything exciting. Tommy has had enough experiences for two lives.

“So anyway Nikki comes up with the genius idea to stick our dicks in breakfast burritos to cover up any scent that we had just fucked these other chicks. Cause like our girlfriends couldn’t know right?” He pauses to sip his Coke and pours the rest of his Jack shooter into my coffee.

“Tommy Lee!” I scold in a hushed whisper.

“Let me finish my story. So anyway me, Sixx, and Vinnie are basically fucking these burritos in the back of my van at the ass crack of dawn to all go home to our girlfriends because Vince wanted to fuck a bride to be at her bachelorette party.” Tommy stuffs more pancakes into his shit eating grin.

“Tommy you guys are insane. How the hell am I friends with you lunatics? Mick is the least insane one and he’s hardly around.” I laugh sipping my spiked coffee wincing only a tiny bit at the burn of the whiskey.

“You just haven’t known Mick long enough. He gets crazy too.” He wags his eyebrows at me suggestively “And you get to capture those moments on film”

“Oh lucky me.” I feign excitement and he tosses a sugar packet hitting me in the face. The walk back to the apartment from the diner is filled with just as many laughs as our meal was and my cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. Tommy has one arm slung around my shoulder while his other swings at his side besides when he takes a puff of his cigarette. Tommy is everything my parents would’ve hated to see me hanging around with, let alone being as close with him as we are now. He had long dark hair, wore make up, and the only real work ethic he had was put into his drumming (that’s not to say he didn’t have work ethic they just wouldn’t have seen it that way).

“Ya wanna know something Riv?” Tommy asks looking everywhere that isn’t at me.

“I wanna know everything at all times.” I joke and he hip checks me lightly. A grin spreads across his face and I wonder if his cheeks hurt like mine from smiling so much.

“You have huge eyes.” He says finally.

I stop in my tracks and stare at him mouth agape.

“Tommy Lee are you making fun of me?!” I shriek and he’s double over laughing at my expression.

“I’m kidding! Well kinda.” I shove at him lightly and begin to walk away, but his hand in mine stops me from leaving him to laugh on his own and we resume walking together to the apartment this time hand in hand.

“What I was actually gonna say was-” Tommy’s grip on my hand tightens and a scary look casts over his features.

I follow his line of sight to see Kevin speaking to the landlord that lived on the floor level. It looked like he hadn’t noticed us yet and I wanted to keep things that way. I tug Tommy’s hand trying to pull him up the stairs to our floor out of his line of sight.

“Oh am I interrupting date night?” I hear behind me. Busted.

“Kevin. Not now.” I hiss not wanting to draw any attention to us.

“I’m sorry did I your HUSBAND interrupt your date with your new fuck buddy?” Kevin raises his voice.

“I’m only going to tell you once dude, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Tommy growls out between grit teeth.

“Hey nobody tells me how to talk to my fucking wife.” Kevin steps closer. Tommy doesn’t step back being that it’s hard to be intimidated by a man at least six inches shorter than you. “She left you bro. Get the fuck over it and move on.” Tommy had somehow maneuvered me behind him and positioned himself in front of me. Kevin clearly didn’t take kindly to that.

“Listen, dick head, I’m not leaving without my fucking wife. You can find someone new to fuck in a city like this. I guarantee she isn’t the only whore”

And that’s when I hear it, the sound of a fist connecting with a face and teeth clanking together. Tommy is on Kevin before I even have time to full process that a punch was thrown. Tommy had the element of surprise and uses that to his advantage to land a few good punches to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s foot connects with Tommy’s gut and gives him the opportunity to get up and land a few punches of his own.

“Guys please stop!” I’m shouting trying to get them off each other without getting hit. I know there’s nothing I can do physically so I do the only thing I can think of doing. And I scream for Nikki.

Nikki is pulling Tommy off of Kevin who looks worse for wear than I had ever seen him. Kevin’s lip is busted, he’s got a black eye forming, and there is blood coming from both a cut on the top of his nose and from his nose in general. Tommy has a small cut on his cheek, also what looks like a black eye coming, and is bleeding from somewhere inside his mouth because he spits blood on Kevin. Kevin charges at him again, but is knocked on his ass by Nikki kicking him square in the gut.

“Enough!” Nikki screams and a small part of me is scared by the sound.

I don’t bother to make sure Kevin is okay before I follow the boys up to our floor. I race into my own apartment to grab some painkillers, a washcloth,  and a bag of frozen peas for Tommy. When I get into their apartment I see Tommy downing some whiskey from the bottle and he tries to smile at me and winces. I gently pluck the bottle from his hand and set it on the counter next to him. I run the washcloth under water and begin to clean the blood off his face. He hisses as I dab at the cut on his cheek and lip trying to be gentle so I don’t make the bleeding start again.

“Hey River, could you maybe not try to get my drummer killed?” Nikki jokes knocking back some of the whiskey. Tears well up in my eyes despite me knowing there’s no malice behind his words.

“I’m so sorry Tommy.” I sob tears cascading down my face.

“Hey, hey shhh” Tommy tries to console me by hugging me to him. “These things, they happen. Hang out with Sixx and I long enough and you’ll be bailing us out of jail in no time.”

“Fuck I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Nikki pipes up.

“This is all my fault if you wouldn’t have tried to stick up for me you wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“I swung first.” He chuckles rubbing my back.

“Atta boy!” Nikki bellows and we all have a good laugh at that. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could sure use a fucking shot.” Tommy tosses back two painkillers and washes them down with a swig of whiskey offering the bottle to me.

“Fuck it.” I shrug and down two big gulps and pass the bottle to Nikki. He’s clapping me on the back while I hold the frozen peas to Tommy’s eye and pretend I can’t feel Tommy’s thumb rub tiny circles on my thigh where I’m standing between his legs. And I pretend the warmth I feel is from the alcohol and not because of the way he looks at me.

[deafwestnewsies]

the most dangerous woman in new york

To be the best- that’s all he wanted. To help others, that’s all she needed. 

hades x persephone, orpheus x eurydice 

read on my ao3!

The room was so fucking fancy for no reason. Plush, green velvet couches with golden lining and carved feet, chests made of real pine and polished so much that it shone under the dim glow of the lamps swinging above them. She noticed that, just like she noticed everything else, that they all swung above their heads to the same gentle beat, an underground chant that no one could hear. Her head eventually matched the even sway of the song and helped her lose herself in the thoughts that swirled in her head, thick as the cigar smoke lazily pouring from the men at the doorways. Should they even be smoking? Seems like men of this stature should want to stay alert at all times- especially when they have New York’s most dangerous woman sitting right in front of them. Of course, they were employed by the city’s most dangerous man. They were probably pretty fearsome themselves. 

Eurydice, only Eurydice, no last name, was something of a legend around the streets of the lowly and working class. She had a habit of appearing out of thin air, walking into a union meeting unannounced, and spinning her magic tales of victory and justice that left her audiences enraptured. No one really knew where she came from or where she went, only that she was the best in town if you wanted someone to organize your strike- the truly lucky ones were simply picked by her, no pleading necessary. Now she sat perched on the edge of a plush green couch, heavy overcoat and dark circles under her eyes emphasizing the scrappy look that made her so effective on the streets. No one wanted to argue with the girl who was one hundred pounds soaking wet, demanding the rights of service workers in an even, calm voice. 

She was intercepted outside of a deli where she was buying a can of lemonade when a group of men asked her to get inside of a limo. After pouring the drink on one of the men’s expensive looking shoes and calling them “crazy sons of bitches,” they picked her up and placed her inside, ignoring her suddenly violent protests. It was a comical image, she was sure, her sitting with her arms crossed and shoulders raised high in between two men that looked straight out of the president’s secret service, black suits and all. They wouldn’t answer any of her many, many questions, and eventually the driver just turned up the radio to cover her shrill voice. 

Now inside, it was very evident to her where she was. It was plastered everywhere, not to mention decorating all of the flower bowls and men’s suit jacket lapels. A single red carnation etched into the wood of the wall, groups of them on the coffee table in a crystal vase. His name was Hades, only Hades, no last name. 

Mr. Hades was a mighty king, and he was always making some mighty big deals. 

Eurydice did not understand what he wanted from her. They did not run the same circles, Eurydice did honest work for people who deserved honest reward, and Hades was a thief, stealing from businesses that lived in fear of the other mobs in town. Hades capitalized upon their fear, and Eurydice used it to everyone else’s advantage. 

She ran through a list of things she had done recently- money she had taken from organizations, contracts she refused to sign, people she had done business with. If Hades had arguments with any of them, she could be in really hot water, and she couldn’t afford that right now. There was an apartment contract waiting to be signed and her landlord had made it very clear- he could ignore her line of work as long as she was not in trouble with the law. Eurydice had a feeling this would be enough for him to withdraw on his end of the lease, and she needed a more permanent place to stay. A home.

So there was nothing that she could think of in the moment, no one with any shady deals, when a man opened the door. “Eurydice?” He questioned, and she was on her feet in a flash. Simply gesturing her inside of the office doors, oak paneling with the same red flower carving, Eurydice noticed that he did not follow her into the room. 

Almost comically, a man sat in a high back chair spun to face the wall, and Eurydice expected him to turn around holding an evil white cat and a maniacal grin. When he made no movement at all, another man coughed slightly into a handkerchief, causing Eurydice to jump. This man sat tucked away in a corner, perched gently on a chair in a gray silk suit. He was old, gray hair neatly arranged in an afro on his head, wrinkles framing his dark skin, but old in a dignified way. In a way that Eurydice, although she knew it, felt it in her bones that she would not grow old, wanted to seem when people would look at her and think “Hmm. She is old.” He was the only other person in the room, and did not offer an explanation, just simply cleared his throat once more. “Hades, do not keep the girl waiting. You are here for her.” 

“Eurydice.” His slow drawl crept up her spine. “Thank you for joining me.” 

“Hades.”

He finally turned in his ridiculous chair. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, young lady.” She bit her tongue and held back the insults. She hated being called young lady, woman, or girl. “Your work with the employees over at The World- most impressive. There are some men who will talk higher of you than their poker buddies, and I would consider than quite an accomplishment.” 

“Lee wasn’t hiring any woman on the investigative staff and because of that, their numbers were down. It’s simple economics, I don’t think I deserve any praise for that job.” The heat in her cheeks told her everything that she needed to know, she was blushing. Modesty had always been a difficult task. 

Another woman emerged from the shadows of the room, draped in brocaded green silk and black buckle shoes. Her low, gravelly chuckle filled the room as she stepped into the light. “It took more than that, don’t undermine yourself. Lee’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.” 

“Persephone-” Both men chastised her in unison. 

“Am I wrong?” She lazily held up a cigarette, smoking on the end like a loaded gun. 

“You’re not-” Eurydice spoke quickly. “He was terrible. Nearly took my left hand in exchange for the newest batch of female truck drivers.” 

Persephone draped herself across Hades’ lap. “Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. A lady knows.” Eurydice felt warm under the woman’s heavy gaze and wink, delivered directly from her husband’s lap. Persephone Ceres, a statuesque Greek woman with a face that looked drawn from a heavy hand, all sharp lines and smudged edges. She was famous for simply being her husband’s wife, a rich broad who came through city attractions and slept with all of the workers, men and women alike, and then returned home to her adoring husband who held a soft spot for only her. If Eurydice was nervous around Hades, she was downright terrified of Persephone. 

Hades cleared his throat, dropping his crossed knee to create a more comfortable spot for his wife. “We’ve brought you here for a very specific issue- one that’s proved to be quite challenging for us.” She bit back the snark that lived on her tongue, what’s too challenging for the almighty Hades? “I’m sure you’re aware of the Calliope Theater?” 

“Ye-e-es.” The hesitation in her voice was more than apparent. 

“There’s a strike being held by the musicians. They can’t perform without the orchestra and they’re also under our… special protection plan. Money, albeit from a theatre troupe, is still money, and it's as good as any in my eyes.” 

Eurydice scoffed. “Hire more musicians. I work with pre-existing unions, not the merry band of fools.” 

The words died in her throat when Hades’ gaze turned to ice and fire, locking onto her. A quiet sniffle from the corner reminded her of the second man, still un-introduced, and at least there would be witnesses to her murder. Although she had a feeling that these folks wouldn’t go running to the cops- hell, she wouldn’t either. She’d die a true strike worker’s death. 

“But I could always check it out.” Her chicken-shit soul winced as she conceded, but she was halfway through a really good book and didn’t want to be the character that died before the end came. 

“Delightful.” There was no delight in this man’s voice. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk business.” 

&&&

The older man’s name was Hermes Mercurius, “A conciliate of sorts,” he had chuckled. He wore blue, wing-tipped shoes that Eurydice couldn’t help but privately admire. After Hades had laid out the details of the situation in front of her, Eurydice saw the clear hole in his original problem.

“They just want stability,” she whispered, tracing her finger across the names of the orchestration line-up. 

“Pardon?” His voice boomed down her back. 

Her throat was cleared, a frightened squeak disguised by a cough. “Stability,” she offered. “They aren’t hired for every single production. Technically the management isn’t breaking any laws, the contract they’re under is about as shitty as every loading dock agreement, but that’s your answer. If your men hired them more often, there wouldn’t even be a strike to worry about.” She spread her fingers over the invisible map on the table, her mind filling in all the gaps. “Contracts happen to be my specialty. If you send me, I can fix your problem.” 

So Eurydice walked alongside Hermes, both of them taking the stroll over to Broadway and 4th, the block home to the Calliope Theater. She had tried to opt for the subway, but Hermes gently pulled her elbow away from the stairs and nodded towards the busy sidewalks. “I’m afraid I don’t take the subway,” he sniffed. “My nose is so temperamental.” Who the hell lives in New York and can’t take the subway? She grumbled in her head. And of course, in keeping with this bizarre expedition, she held her tongue. 

Thankfully the walk was short and the day was long, so the pair arrived with time to spare. Hermes took a moment to adjust his suit jacket (they were an awfully strange pairing to be seen in public together) and then walked through the arched doorway, Eurydice trailing hesitantly behind him. While she was seen as a warrior of the people, she was simply another loud mouthed girl with a passion for whatever issue was thrown in her lap. The jobs she received were usually working in labor-heavy areas, shipping docks and construction sites. This theater, while in need of a good dusting, was much fancier than what she usually got to work in. 

“Mr. Orpheus, I presume?” Hermes walked towards a group of people gathered together, a pile of instrument cases littering their feet. A tall, skinny boy with a sweep of dusty blonde hair looked up at the mention of his name, and leapt to his feet. He held out his hand, trembling only slightly, and Eurydice was charmed by the red bandana knotted around his neck. She knew what that symbol meant, she had adorned herself with the fabric more than once before, but she wouldn’t out a fellow resistance member in front of one of Hades’ men. They were both here to do a job, not talk politics and run the risk of getting killed. “This is Eurydice. She’ll be negotiating the contract between your group and the Fate sisters.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow. “We need to hear the terms before we sign anything. That’s why we wouldn’t do business with you in the first place, Hermes.” 

“You’d be the on-site orchestrations for every show, with the exception of travelling groups.” Eurydice blurted out. Orpheus’s curious eyebrow dropped and Hermes’ raised, both looking expectantly at her. “If... everything works out.” She was blushing. Damn. 

Orpheus scratched the back of his neck abashedly. “That sounds… really good. Let me introduce you to the team.” 

After pleasantries were exchanged, the group gathered around a small table where both Eurydice and Orpheus were sat. She knew that her contract she had drawn up was popular among the musicians by the nodding and jostling happening behind her, but she kept her eyes locked on the leader. If he found even one flaw the entire deal could be called off, and she hadn’t had dinner in days. Hades’ paycheck could buy her a damn steak if she wanted it. 

“Everything looks in order, no?” Hermes chimed in from the corner. 

“Yes.” Orpheus muttered under his breath, skimming the document one more time. He cleared his throat finally. “We’ll sign, but you also have to go through the old lady Fates. And they won’t be as easy as I am.”

Cocking an eyebrow, feeling much more relaxed, Eurydice leaned back in her chair. “Easy?” Now his face was stained red and Eurydice made a mental note to laugh later on. “We’ll take these to the Fates and Hermes here will contact you further about what will happen next. Thank you for your time, folks.” 

Hermes was already making his way towards the door when Orpheus called after her. “Eurydice? Can I talk to you for a second?” 

&&&

Ultimately she was very grateful for the fact that Hermes was a quiet man, because he didn’t ask her what the boy had to say to her on the walk back. She might’ve been a public speaker by trade, but she was a terrible liar and knew she would immediately blow the entire operation- the Resistance, that is. 

Anyone who understood what it was like to struggle in a city such as theirs understood what the Resistance was. A mass organization committing acts of disarray that negatively affected the larger companies and businesses, most of whom employed the very members. A modern day weapon of the weak attack, Eurydice had been involved since she was a teenager. Her specialty was rumors, spreading them like nasty vines across the city until they twisted around someone’s neck and left them worse then dead, ruined. As she travelled from union to union, her vicious and carefully placed words about a former boss, a union leader with no morals, a landlord only after your money, and suddenly people distrusted them with such a fervor they could go out of business. Eurydice was a valuable cog in this organization’s machine, and it seemed as if Orpheus had recognized her. 

“What are you doing?” He had asked, pulling on her hand forcefully and tugging her behind a corner. Once released, that same hand curled into a fist that she was prepared to throw. 

“What the hell do you mean?” She shot back. 

“Do the words ‘It sounds like drumming’ mean nothing to you?” 

Eurydice inhaled sharply, immediately looking behind her for Hermes. “Are you crazy? Not here!” 

There was a common identifier between members of the Resistance. One would ask ‘What’s that sound?’ and if the other replied with ‘It sounds like drumming,’ they knew that they were in safe company. So those words meant a great deal to her, especially in a moment where they could be killed for knowing them. 

“Why are you working with Hades? Just last month you were saying that he doesn’t-” 

She was this close to slapping a hand over his idiotic mouth. “I know what I said.” Eurydice hissed. “He didn’t exactly give me a choice. And what does it matter, you’re getting a good deal out of this- and wait a minute, you work somewhere under his protection!” Her eyes danced with fire, angry that this boy would accuse her of being a traitor when he was close to being one himself. 

“Work where you can get it,” he replied. “Being a musician doesn’t exactly equate to a strike leader.” 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she drew her coat around her shoulders tighter. “Well, if you’re done yelling at me, I have to go. Hermes will get suspicious.” 

“I wasn’t yelling. I’m just making sure you’re safe. You… You are, right? Safe?” Orpheus’s face softened, his hands fiddling together. He looked bashful all of a sudden, embarrassed about the entire situation. 

“For the time being. If you keep throwing the damn words around though, I may not be.” She turned on her heel before stilling herself for a second. “If I don’t turn back up, you’ll tell them I was with Hades, won’t you?” Before she could hear his confirmation, Eurydice had walked away. 

The interaction kept playing back in her head. She was astonished that he had recognized her, that he had come up to her like that and so confidently talked about the most secret organization in the city. He was bold, bolder than most, and Eurydice couldn’t decide whether she admired it or found it stupid enough to get him killed. Before she had decided, they were back in front of the homely-looking restaurant entitled “Poseidon's Plate.” Inside were a few booths and a very empty looking register, but behind the kitchen doors was the offices of Hades and company, and Hermes and Eurydice found themselves once again in the lap of luxury. 

Hermes went to knock on the french-breasted door when it swung open, Persephone’s calculating smile waiting on the other side. “We’ve been waiting.” She purred, the sound making Eurydice shiver as she passed through the doors. Hades had forgone the dramatics and now sat plainly in his chair, scribbling down something in a handsome leather bound notebook. 

“Eurydice. Sit.” She followed his orders without a second thought, once again captured by his presence and the mild fear of being murdered. She had heard nasty rumors about the way he took care of his enemies. “So the contract business went well.” 

“Yes.” Her mouth was a desert. 

“Very good. I’m glad we could count on you.” He was still writing things down, almost at a worrisome pace. Persephone clucked her tongue from the corner, where she was perched on the arm of a red brocade couch. “We have one more thing to discuss. How long have you been involved with the Resistance?” 

If what she had felt before was fear, this was a new type of terror, one that seized her entire body and wiped her mind blank. The most dangerous woman in New York City now sat as the most vulnerable person in the world. She managed a few sputters, a weak denial, but Hades waved away her excuses. “I don’t like beating around the bush. We’re aware of your involvement with the group, and this is why you were chosen for this specific assignment. You’re smart, Eurydice. Far too smart to be working for those silly children who think spreading lies and stealing will ever make a change in the way this city is run. If you want to do something, to be something Eurydice,” He finally looked up from the notebook. Their eyes caught in a piercing gaze- one that Eurydice couldn’t help but be enraptured by. “I have a proposition for you. If you choose to accept, of course.” 

hello i haven’t written something for a musical in a long long while but i am back! from outer space! just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face i should’ve changed that stupid i should’ve thrown away the key

[sparkyleegeek]

Wow. It’s been a very hectic few months, my apologies.

For the eviction fiasco in Halifax, we had a hearing. In that hearing, we basically just pulled out of the lease. We didn’t give the roommate a chance to even talk, because we knew she was simply DYING to bash us to anyone who would listen. So we shut that down, said we’d be out by the beginning of August and that was that.

We packed up everything we owned, rented a U-haul (thank you for your donations, that really helped!) and made our way out to Pubnico, South Western Nova Scotia, where my partner is from.

A few weeks after we left, we were accused by the roommate and our idiot landlady, that there was cigarette smoke in her bedroom closet. What in the actual fuck? Yes Lynne, you unbelievable tool of a human, we intentionally went into your closet and smoked. Rolling my eyes, I told her this was a ridiculous accusation. It was all just a way for the idiot landlady to avoid paying us our damage deposit. Which she won’t. (and frankly, not hearing from these people ever again is worth the price). She didn’t like being called an idiot. Poor idiot landlady (and I use the term lady, lightly). I ended up having to block the Landlady from emailing me anymore, it caused immediate stress just seeing her name in my inbox.

It was bad. The landlords used to park their Escalade in the parking lot behind us and watch us. Not sure what they were looking for, but needless to say it was creepy, as well as a violation of our privacy. We never did anything but keep the place clean. We never had a single party (unlike the roommate), rarely had people over. We’re not involved in any gangs or organized crime, we weren’t running any illegal lotteries out of the home nor were we charging admission for any live bands and we weren’t cooking anyting but food, so I’m not sure what they were watching for, but it was super annoying.

So everyone ended up getting what they wanted, (except us) which was us out. Sure, we are still homeless but who cares right? Lynne got her way, crying wolf. She couldn’t let it go or give us a day or 2 to cool off. Nope. Had to get us kicked out with her fairy stories. I used to respect this person, hard to believe. Now, I have absolutely ZERO respect for her. She’s a liar and a manipulative douchebag. Good luck to you.

And yes, I can say that Lynne. Trying to use my blog against me, like I’ve used your last name or published our address. In Canada, we have freedom of expression so, stuff it. My blog, my rules.

In the meantime, while we search for housing, I have been enjoying my new full-time job. I’m making good money now. Basically, that crazy landlady kicked out the ONLY person with full-time employment. Good move Melodie. Melodie. The craziest fucking tune I’ve ever heard. Again, no last names. Suck it.

I’ve been enjoying my time here in Southwest Nova. I’ve gone swimming, gone to beaches, spent time at cottages on the lake. Ate a shit ton of seafood. Went for a ride on an inflatable sombrero being pulled by a jet ski. Enjoyed countless breathtaking sunsets, were avoided by Hurricane Dorian, (we didn’t even lose power). So all in all, I’m glad we’re not living with Lynne, her obnoxious rectum clenching laugh, or her constantly barking chihuahua mix. I’ve been able to sleep again. My back doesn’t hurt as much from sleeping on a tilt in that crooked slanty shanty, nor do I have vertigo anymore. That house was seriously crooked.

Working full-time now means I don’t have as much time to dedicate to my blog as I used to. I’m exhausted by the end of my days and just want a shower, food, and bed, but I wanted to give you all an update. We’re currently seeking housing in town nearby as everything is miles away here and we don’t have a vehicle.

I’m still in shock of how the roommate manipulated the landlords and how they never spoke to us, our numbers were both on our lease. A simple phone call may have cleared things up, but instead, you made 2 people, one of which disabled, homeless. Good job.

But in the end, things are working out. We may have a house lined up. Less than what we were paying in Halifax to live in a bedroom. A backyard, a nearby trail, a deck. A whole house to ourselves. This is what we want. I will never live with a roommate again.

I’m doing well with my job, my partner is actively seeking another, we will prevail.

Here a few of my summer highlights.

Impressive Sunsets

More beautiful sunsets

  Hanging out at the shore

  Beach Walking

  Being pulled across a lake on the Sombrero

  After the ride. I had to pry my left hand off the handle lol

  Le Village with the Fam Jam

  Yacht Rock ALL DAY #ChuckMangione

  I’m in seafood heaven down here!

  Honorable mentions go to:

“La Creamy Treat” for having the best ice cream treats in Nova Scotia. I will miss you Driftwood. (Waffle cone dipped in chocolate with soft serve vanilla, caramel and pretzel inside- so delicious! So fattening, my pants are tight!)

The Sister in law and Brother in law for their famous cottage hospitality.

The Mother in law for her famous baked goods. #Dawnscookies.

Giant unused ballfield next door where Lucy enjoys running leash-free chasing sticks and balls.

My buddy in town and our occasional “safety meetings”. (This means we get together, dish, and smoke pot).

Quiet. Halifax is SO noisy, we do NOT miss the dynamite blasts and constant carnage, er, I mean construction in the North End.

Nature. It comes right in your yard! Deer, bunnies, there’s a giant toad we call Geoffrey, chipmunks that come right up to you, and LOTS of butterflies and birds.

All in all, Lynne, you did us a favor. We hated living in Halifax and didn’t enjoy living with you. You were controlling and juvenile. I didn’t sign up to live with a Mrs. Garrett…

Mrs. Garrett

(Girls, girls, girls). I ended up with full-time work for the first time since 2011, we’re going to have a nicer bigger space to ourselves for less than what you pay. We’re going to start our life, finally, after four and a half years, together.

Enjoy your cat.

S.

    Image Credits

Mrs. Garrett  http://www.947wls.com/2018/08/06/r-i-p-charlotte-rae-tvs-mrs-garrett/

All other images are my own*

The Aftermath Wow. It's been a very hectic few months, my apologies. For the eviction fiasco in Halifax…