#ds troy

[cyare-fi]

Also bc he's a freak, I headcannon Gavin as being SO messy but also obsessively organized. So like, fridge filled to the brim with takeout containers (I doubt he can cook or has the time for it) but each one is neatly labeled with contents and dated. His countertops and sink are cluttered with dishes but they're all grouped and stacked into piles. His bedroom is covered in dirty clothes but when he throws them on the floor, he keeps each type of item in its own spot (ie t-shirts in one spot, jeans another, work shirts another, etc...) and he's so upright about his laundry when he can be bothered to do it.

[fuckofffuckofffuckoffloveme]

[leodoodlesstuff]

and worst of all is when it’s calm

cause i know the sea won’t be calm for long

[tangiblenightmares]

Some Higgs gifs to brighten your day.

[samkuchingdraws]

Welcome to Gallerie d'Monaghan!

Just Higgs showing Sam his definitely-not-creepy photo collection.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Why is troy baker literally the Tony Hawk of video games why can I never recognise his voice when he actually plays a character and when I do think it's him it's actually matt mercer

[ds-90210]

Worf: Now who do we know who has handcuffs? Julian: Well Lwaxana and I- Lwaxana: WOULDN'T KNOW… anything about that!

[deathhstrandingg]

ITS OFFICIAL

DEATH STRANDING 2 IS COMING

[nameless-headless]

i don’t think enough people have noticed the fact that the mask has teeth

[deeepnest]

okay this is fun

the rats as a bonus

[astrandofgold]

through the pale atmospheric glow / and the oxygen’s getting low / sing a song that we used to know / one last round before we go

[tangiblenightmares]

The scene where he pretends to be a bridges employee and he even changes his voice a lil is always so cute me. Makes me think this is the clumsy type of person he was as a porter.

- images Balagan

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Higgs Monaghan…

Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[krissydoodle-art]

been playing so much death stranding so heres some busts. surrendering myself to the brainrot.

[thewitchunderyourbed]

It's a wonderful thing when you play another game to get off your mind from another and what is the result?

You find another bisexual terrorist who can sing and play guitar.

Thank you very much, Mr. Kojima.

[anoseforrottenapples]

@detectiverickitubbs

Muse: Gavin Troy. Drabbles connected to scents. Spoilers within for Death of a Stanger,  Murder on St. Malley’s Day, Shadow of Death, The Killings at Badger’s Drift, and Faithful unto Death. 

Tea

Troy’s nose twitched at the warm, earthy scent as he opened the canister. How many cups of tea had he made over the years? He lost count when he was still in school, but it must have been well over several thousand by now. A few of them always stuck with him though… like the cup he made poor Mrs. Gurdie when they had to tell her about her husband’s death. That poor woman… in less then a month her tear-away son Billy had been railroaded into prison for a murder he did not commit, and her husband had been killed trying to clear the lad. Sure, Billy had gotten out of prison when all the facts came to light… but did that really make anything easier? The last he heard of the pair, they had left Upper Marchwood, aiming to rebuild their life in one of the larger cities. He thought it might have been Liverpool… A passing question about whether Billy had managed to stay out of trouble flitted through his mind but, before he could grab it, the hall door opened, and he heard his boss’s footfalls on the tile. That was not Barnaby’s casual walk, the one he used when he was anticipating a quiet day. That one indicated something new was on hand. Barnaby pushed the office door open enough just to stick his head in, “Grab your jacket, Troy. The body of a local beekeeper just turned up in a stream on the outskirts of Midsomer Shallows.” Troy quickly snapped the canister lid closed, “Coming, sir.”

= = = = = 

Paper

The old library stank of musty books and paperwork. Troy’s nose scrunched up and then he sneezed hard into the sleeve of his suitcoat. “Sorry, sir.” He apologized automatically when Barnaby shot him a glance. Sniffing, he wiped the back of his hand over his nose. Then he gingerly picked up one of the piles of newspaper and glanced at the headline. Like a shock of cold water, he abruptly realized why this library smelled so familiar. Poor old looney Carew… the name floated into Troy’s head, though it had been months since they resolved the St. Malley’s case. His little cottage used to smell like this, a testament to all the newspapers and magazines he kept piled up for his research. In the end, all his conspiracy theories had not done him much good… “It looks like our Mr. Lilton was very interested in treasure maps, Troy.” Barnaby’s comment slides through the library’s oppressive atmosphere. “I wonder if he was just selling them, as his daughter claims, or if he had another reason for his collection.” “Maybe he was going to try and find one, sir.” Troy wrenched his mind back to the current case. “And since he’s gone missing, maybe he went haring off after one… any of the maps for Midsomer County?” His question was answered by Barnaby depositing several dusty stacks of maps into his arms. Biting back another sneeze, Troy tried to ignore the way his eyes started tearing up by blinking hard. “That is for you to find out, Troy.” Barnaby headed for the library door. “I need to have another word with Mrs. Wilder, the housekeeper.” “Yes sir,” Troy sighed, looking around for an empty table he could work on. Though he claimed he was not a superstitious man, he swore he saw a glimpse of the dead conspiracy theorist disappearing behind a bookshelf. Maybe Carew was looking for a buried treasure too…

 = = = = =

Smoke

The firefighters had everything extinguished by the time Barnaby and he arrived on scene, but the lingering scent of water-heavy smoke almost sent Troy retching. Trying to discreetly press the back of his hand to his mouth, he took a step away toward cleaner air and breathed in slowly, before holding it. Barnaby, thankfully, did not seem to notice his absence yet. He had charged ahead to talk to Doctor Bullard. Exhaling carefully, Troy experimentally sucked in another breath. David Whitely’s murder scene, and having to look down on a pile of burned bones that had once been a human being he knew haunted his nightmares. Troy had never liked Mr. Whitely much, admittedly. As the Tye House estate manager, Whitely had been a bit too grand and full of himself for Troy’s taste… especially when they learned he was just a common old adulterer, messing around with another man’s wife. Then, when they returned to Badger’s Drift to investigate the Bayly murder, the former estate manager had almost been worse, going out of his way to goad Troy in particular every time they tried to get information from him. But Whitely had still been a human being… someone with thoughts and opinions and plans… burned alive and suffocated in smoke because of a mistake he made when he was a child. Troy closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose quickly. He had never processed that one correctly… had tried to talk about and quickly got shut down… so he just tucked it away with all the other horrible things he had seen and learned since he became a DS. “Troy? Are you coming?” Barnaby finally realized his shadow had detached itself somewhere, and looked around for his Sergeant. Troy took another deep breath. “Sorry about that, sir. I thought I got a call on my mobile—must have been on someone else’s.” It should not have been so easy to lie to his boss, but Troy still found the words slipping out with a convincing ease that would alarm him later tonight while he was in the shower. However, Barnaby had not been interested in discussing Whitely’s demise at the time. Troy really doubted that three years on, he would be any keener to discuss it now. Better to just leave those memories where they were. It was easier that way.

= = = = =

Car Exhaust  

A heavy fog had moved in during the night, trapping all the scents close to the ground. If Troy had known it was coming, he would have closed his windows before he slept. One of the people in his block of flats left for work absurdly early, and always ran their car for an age to ‘warm it up’ before they pulled away. On nights like this, the car’s exhaust caught in the wet air, and slid into every open crack it could find.

Jerking awake, Troy stared into the darkness as he tried to settle back into his bedroom. All he could smell was the exhaust, a sickening cloud of gases seeping in his window.

He should get up and close it… but he stayed flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

He had dreamed about Brenda Buckley again-… about how she died in that horrible car accident. About how it had been his fault.

If he had just been a little smarter, he never would have fallen for Hollingsworth’s clumsy set-up. Then the man would not have been able to take off for Finchmere Market, with Brenda following after him like the lovesick puppy she was… and what she saw there, that was what had gotten her killed on the drive home.

If he had never lost Hollingsworth, maybe Brenda will still be alive. Once he debated if Hollingsworth would have survived too, but he dismissed that idea. Simone needed him dead so he would have to go whether Troy succeeded at his stake-out or not. Brenda though… she only died because she had seen something she never should have… and she tried to get her father to get Troy on the phone to report it but…

Kicking the blankets aside, Troy pulled himself from his bed and slammed his window shut. Down on the street, he could hear his neighbor finally pulling away from the building, taking his stinking car with him.

There was no point in torturing himself. The problem was that torturing himself came too easily. Especially when the victim of his blunder was a young woman who had really done nothing wrong, besides reading too many romance novels, and falling in love with a man who cared nothing about her. She probably thought helping Hollingsworth in his hour of difficulty would earn her the man’s admiration…maybe even his love…

Too keyed up to go back to sleep, Troy pulled a tee-shirt over his head and headed for the kitchen. No one would notice if he headed in for work a bit early… it would give him a chance to catch up on paperwork before Barnaby came in.

As he moved, he pointedly ignored the clock on his dresser, and the fact it was not even five am yet.