#marbling live on thursday also

[ratshien]

swan

[angelliicc]

rush

“nine to nine, you're on my mind all day

you're my world and my sweet escape”

masterlist

a/n: HI GUYS! editor ❌ writer ✅ no fic coming tomorrow or thursday :( sorry. also i almost fell asleep writing this but i drank celsius lol, enjoy!!

warnings: not proofread, fluff, tension

| your phone buzzed with a notification. your phone had been quite dry, but whenever you get a notification you answer it immediately. it was from instagram.

message request from: ellie 💫 accept it?

“hm, whos this?” you thought. no person had dmed you out of the blue before. only close friends and family. “sure, why not?”

after accepting the request, you see the message she left for you.

“hey :)”

you respond back. “hiii”

e: “i dmed you because i saw we have a lot of interests in common, hope you dont mind.”

you needed new mutuals to talk about the same shit you liked, only a handful of people at your school, but they were mostly older.

r: “oh dont worry, i dont mind. so you like the same things as me mostly?”

e: “unless there’s something i dont know about, than yes”

“shes kinda funny” you thought.

r: “lol, i like music, clothes, painting, shopping, sports, all that shit.”

e: “i like sports also, what do you watch?”

r: “basketball, loved it since i was 5”

e: “damn thats for a long ass time. i tried it but its ehh not for me.”

r: “well what do you watch or play?”

e: “soccer, i play and watch.”

r: “nicee. i want to play soccer, but i don’t know how to play lol.”

e: “maybe i can teach you one day.”

shes bold, but you had no complaints about it.

you saw in her bio, she lived in the same area as you. you decided to ask her if you’d like to meet up and get some coffee. you had nothing to do this weekend and wanted to get out of the house anyway.

r: “hey, i saw you’re in the bay? you mind if you wanna get coffee and chat? get to know each other more?”

you pressed send before even thinking twice. “fuck fuck fuck why did i do that? she must think im so annoy-“ until you felt a buzz.

e: “sure, id like that.”

a smile grew on your face.

the next morning you woke up, went to the bathroom to do your 5 step skin care routine. while waiting for your skin to dry, you decided to pick out an outfit. the weather was partly cloudy, so you picked out a pink sweater, a white tank top, and some jeans. you changed, then applied your makeup, making sure everything was going perfect. you did your eyeshadow a baby pink color, with some glitter on the center of your eyelids.

the cafe was around 5 minutes away from your house, so you decided to walk. it was a good dose of vitamin D, and you needed some fresh air.

when you get there, you see her sitting in a chair. she has auburn hair in a mullet, green eyes and freckles on her face. she was wearing sweats, a compression shirt with a button-up short sleeve shirt on top.

you smiled as you sat down, placing your tote bag down. “hi!”

“hey, you look nice.” she replied. the comment caught you off guard, making you immediately flustered.

“thank you.” you said back “you look nice too. wanna order anything? its on me don’t worry.”

“nono i got it, thank you for the offer.” you and ellie went up to the counter placing your orders. ellie ordered an iced americano with a marble cake. you weren’t really hungry, so you just ordered a matcha.

you both sat down at the table and started talking. you both talked like it was your last day on earth. you told each other your personal lives, schooling, etc.

you both talked so much that you guys lost track of time. before you knew it, the sun was starting to set. “wanna see the sunset? lets see if it has pretty colors today.” she asked.

“yess, i love sunsets.” you said. you got your bag, and headed out the door with her. you decided to walk to the local park and watch the sunset.

you both sat down on the grass, enjoying the view. a random wave of drowsiness hit you. before you knew it, your head was on ellies shoulder and you were out like a light.

15 minutes later you wake up from her shoulder, still at the park. the sun had fully set, and you realized what had happened.

“im so sorry, i didn’t mean to.” you said.

“dont worry, i kinda enjoyed it actually.” ellie replied back, soothing your worries.

“yup, shes still bold.” you thought. “this was fun ellie. im gonna head home now, we should do this again sometime.” you told her enthusiastically.

“me too, this was very nice. see you again sometime soon.” she replied.

before you went to bed, you got another message from her.

“goodnight.” ellie said

“goodnight.” you replied back

the next morning, you were bombarded with texts. and you liked it.

for the next 3 days, you both were talking from sun up to sun down, never getting bored. you noticed ellie was being bold and flirting with you. “two can play that game.” you thought to yourself.

e: “i missed you these past couple of days.”

r: “oh really? how bad did you miss me.”

e: “i missed you so much i couldnt stop thinking about you. you’re so beautiful.”

r: “you really have a way with words, yk that right?”

e: “maybe.”

r: “since when are you the flirty type?”

e: “ive always been. why? too much to handle?”

r: “no, i like it. its cute from you.”

e: “when you slept on my shoulder by accident the other day, you had me nervous. in a good way. i wish you just stayed there forever”

r: “its just my touch i have on people. if you miss me so much come over.”

e: “omw.”

10 minutes later, the doorbell rang. you felt a rush of excitement.

you answered the doorbell, seeing her leaning on the doorframe. “did you fly down the highway?” you asked sarcastically. “thats only something i know.” she replied

you both went to your bedroom. it was pink with green vines and fairy lights. cds and posters spread according to match the aesthetic.

you sat on the floor, and ellie sat down on your bed, lying down to your plushies then eventually getting up.

“you’re the only thing ive been thinking about lately.” she started

“is that so? do i make you feel special?” you respond

“i wont lie, you kinda do. everything about you. i love all of it. your eyes, your hair, your style.” she spoke, all saying this while running her fingers through your hair. you felt like you falling, your heart was racing and your stomach was doing flips.

you got up off the floor and sat on the bed. she placed her hand on your knee and started doing circles with her thumbs, letting you get tingles all over your body. you both look at each other, and didnt break eye contact. you were getting nervous, so you started blushing and immediately turned away in embarrassment. “hey!” she said in a playful tone. you both eventually held hands while looking at each others eyes.

“no ones made me feel like this before” you told her.

“good, then let me be the first.” she spoke.

when you looked down she touched your face and kissed your cheek. you felt satisfied, and your whole face felt red. her soft kisses on your skin felt so relaxing. the feelings you both have kept hidden from the moment you say each other were about to become transparent.

the tension between you both was louder than any words ever spoken before. you both looked at each others lips, and started kissing, becoming drunk in each other. her taste of love was so special and sweet. so sweet that it made you dizzy. you felt like a spell was casted upon the both of you, like you could stay up all night, and never be tired. love felt so easy in that moment, and it made you want more of her. you both couldn’t get enough of each other, wanting to feel each others rush.

the touch of each other made it seemed like it lasted forever. she pulled away from your lips.

“can i be your girlfriend?” she asked you.

fuck, she did have a way of her words. the words themselves can make you levitate from the thoughts of her.

“you dont know how long ive been waiting for that question.” you told her. “absolutely.”

just as you were running out of love, you found the person you needed the most.

hours and hours what do I do now? baby

with no clue, i need you quickly

i need to feel your rush, drive me crazy and I know

i just can't get enough.

[kraken17]

List of dimensional variants/counterparts of Enid and Wednesday introduced in my fanfiction Kooky Spooky in order of appearance.

This means that other characters that are counterparts such as Taylor Galpin, the Yoko and Weems from Agent A's dimension and the rest of the Adamos (High Fantasy Addams Family) are not on this list. Only Enids and Weds.

(Artwork from Kris6758 on Twitter)

First, those with some weight in the plot:

Eamon Sinclair (Chapter 1): Initially named in Chapter 1, with no formal appearance until Chapter 43. Eamon is a male counterpart of Enid and husband of Friday (the Wednesday from the 1973 cartoon). Basically, he is "our" Enid if she had been born male. Standard lycanthrope, though exceptionally strong.

Thursday (Chapter 9): Wednesday Thursday Addams. As Eamon, a male counterpart to Wednesday and Friday's cell neighbor. He looks identical to a teenage Gomez but with no mustache and with Fester's pallor.

Enid Saint-Clair (Chapter 19): The Enid of Woe's dimension (the Wednesday of the '90s movies). Brunette, of Greek descent and werecat rather than werewolf. Affable and nice, though with psychopathic tendencies and a love for exacerbated violence. Loves to fight people who can keep up with her. To call her "kitten" is to invite death. Better just call her “Nid”.

Agent A (Chapter 22): Wednesday Tuesday Addams. The Wednesday from a dimension gone to hell (literally). She's a grown woman in her forties, dresses like she's a MIB and is a practitioner of magic. She's also one of the few Wednesdays who doesn't make use of her pigtails or pull her hair back in any way, leaving her hair loose. If you want to put a face on her, I imagine her as Hailee Steinfeld about 16 years from now.

Wodnesdæg (Chapter 35): Lord Wodnesdæg of the House of Adamo, Prince of the Kingdom of Nova Gersia. Wod to his closest family and friends. Trans male version of Wednesday. He collects his hair in two short but thick pigtails. Likes to wear black armor that makes him look like the stereotypical Dark Lord from a fantasy novel, but first impressions aside his personality is closer to that of a Gomez Addams.

Eneit Synklar (Chapter 35): Enid's variant from Wodnesdæg's dimension and his betrothed. A barbarian and werewolf princess Enid, extremely tall and muscular, usually dressed in furs or light leather armor. Very outgoing, affable and friendly, though she lacks a bit of tact and has no qualms about breaking in half anyone who messes with her loved ones.

[UPDATE] The Bright One: SPOILERS! Read the fic 😁

Now, the ones that are more cameos:

Chapter 43:

A golden tyrannosaurus Enid and her ape-like sidekick Wednesday, inspired by the original comic book versions of Devil Dinosaur and Moon Boy.

A middle-aged futuristic soldier Enid.

A Wednesday who looks like a living marble statue with golden cracks adorning her skin and luminous white hair.

A Wednesday and Enid who look like stereotypical pirates.

Gargoyle Enid. A purple-skinned Enid with horns, tail and wings, inspired by the characters from the Disney series Gargoyles.

Chapter 45:

Cyborg-lycanthrope Enid.

Vampire Wednesday, armed with a spear.

Reverse Enid and Wednesday: A violent lycanthropic but black-furred Enid accompanied by a disturbingly extroverted blonde Wednesday.

The younglings: A group of five or six young Wednesdays, the oldest no older than seven.

Saiyan Enid: A brunette-haired martial artist Enid with ki abilities, orange robes, staff and monkey tail. Inspired by Dragon Ball, although it can be interpreted as a reference to Journey to the West as well.

Gunslinger Enid and Wednesday, as if out of a classic Hollywood Western.

Sasquatch Enid.

The witches: Two Enids, one of them in school uniform and wand-wielding, clearly inspired by the Potterverse novels/films or other similar works. The second Enid, with green skin and black clothes, pointy hat and broom is more inspired by The Wizard of Oz and Wicked.

Punk-looking Enid with cybernetic implants like blades in her arms. Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077.

Angelic Enid, alternates between a humanoid form with wings and a fire-wheel form with multiple eyes.

Hellboy Wednesday (Hellgirl?).

[UPDATE] Chapter 50:

A witch-like Enid with a talking cat familiar.

[bluestar22x]

Mr. Henley

The Rockford Files - Mr. Henley

Summary: A rich man is murdered and you and Tim must figure out which of his family members poisoned him.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader (both in their mid/late 40s)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 13,800 (ish)

Warnings: Smut (w/no protection), violence, a very angry ghost, inaccurate detective work, medical examiner gore, fictionally speedy DNA results, and a mention of euthanizing a pet (cat).

Author's Note: This part was a long time coming - I almost didn't finish it in October. Ack! But it was worth it. I think I'm happy with the results. This has some inspiration from the Merge Mansion ads. I'm not sorry. Also, it seems 2nd parts are for smut in my little writing world. I have a pattern. ha

xxx

October 10, 1996 (Thursday)

You felt like you were being driven straight into a horror movie setting. An early morning fog encroaching on the long, deserted winding road that led to a Victorian styled gate with golden decals. Tim stopped his car at the front and you noted the number twenty-six that was painted onto one of the stone walls the gate was attached to. You were at the right address. You just weren't sure that you wanted to be.

Tim slid out of the driver's side, leaving his door open as he approached the gate with the key he'd been handed earlier by Chief Bronson, opening it up and letting the gate swing widely inward on its own.

When he climbed back into the car you began tapping your fingers on your knees, unsure of what you’d soon be walking into.

It didn't take long for the sparsely colorful forest surrounding the driveway to clear into a neatly maintained lawn lined with pink rosebushes, spread out before a massive white mansion that looked as old as the gate, although they likely hadn't been built earlier than a half a century ago.

Rich people, you thought to yourself, rolling your eyes at the obvious choice the owners had made to flaunt their money. Nobody in American history who had owned such a home had ever actually needed over thirty rooms to themselves. Most people who'd had twenty plus children couldn't afford a mansion.

"We have an hour before we have to be back at the department to question the family," Tim reminded you after parking the car, as if you needed to be.

You just nodded at him. A year ago you would've rolled your eyes, thinking he was being impatient, trying to rush you, but you'd learned with time he just worried about being late. He was a reliable person. If he could help it, he was always on time. You couldn't say the same, and you'd butted heads with him more than once over it, but eventually you'd both decided it wasn't worth it.

He fixed the position of the dark rimmed glasses that rested over the bridge of his nose (a recent addition to his attire, much to his dismay) and followed you as you strolled up the marble steps leading to the heavy looking white front door. After he used another key to unlock it you shoved the door open and stepped inside.

You didn't know enough about mansions and fancy furniture, but you knew enough to know that everything inside was mind boggling expensive. The trims were definitely made from real gold. The living room was the size of your whole apartment.

And everything was spotless - except for the dining room you headed straight for like a woman on a mission. Even though it was just you and Tim in the house, at the moment, you didn't want to give the mansion's owner the satisfaction of you having gawked at the place.

The only sign something had gone wrong in the dining room was the yellow tape and the bowl of cereal that was still, disgustingly, out on the glass table, half full of soaked flakes and rotting milk. The stench made you block your nose.

At least the body had already been picked up by Joe while the rest of the Forensics team had scoured the mansion. And the man had been found fairly quickly after his death, so the room didn't also smell like rotting flesh. You always tried to look at the bright side of things.

"I see Elliot Henley was a Frosted Flakes kind of guy," you observed humorously. "It's kind of comforting that corn flakes could potentially unite the rich and poor."

Tim snorted quietly at that, amusement sparking in his normally serious eyes. You beamed back at him. You'd taken a liking to trying to make him laugh with you rather than at your expense, like it had been at first. You were getting better at it.

"You getting any vibes, Psy?"

Where once that nickname had been at your expense, it had long since turned friendly, and in turn, you'd grown fond of it. Only from him though.

"Nothing yet," you replied with a sigh, "I'm not even creeped out by the knowledge that a dead man was sitting at this table at eight o'clock last night, face planted right on the table alongside this very bowl."

Tim arched his eyebrows, surprised. "That once bothered you?"

"It still bothers me often enough," you admitted. "I got this job because of my gift, not because of my tolerance for being around dead bodies. You?"

He shrugged. "It got better with time. It's rare a case really shakes me up."

You know exactly what kind of case shakes him up after Annie. Anything with kids. For most people in your field of work, that was the line, but it was especially true for him.

You hadn't asked Tim about his sister. You didn't need to. Helen had given you more than enough information and it wasn't your business. He was your partner, a friend, you might even dare say, but your relationship was very professional and that meant you didn't get to be nosy.

"I'm going to take a walk through the whole place, alone," you decided, "Just in case he's shy. But it's quite possible Elliot's already moved on. Even if our suspicions turn out right, that he didn't just die of a stroke or heart attack, that doesn't mean he'd linger. You know how it goes."

Tim gave you a quick nod. After working over two dozen cases with you he did know enough of how things worked, or at least how you believed things worked, since you'd yet to convince him your mind wasn't conjuring up these spirits.

Stubborn man.

He left to stand by the main entrance while you wandered room to room, trying to keep your mind focused solely on your surroundings, without paying too much attention to how absurdly "classy" everything was.

You walked the east wing first, finding Elliot's mother's room at the far end. Everything was so white it was near blinding. It felt too clean. Unlived in, except for the hairbrush with silver hair intertwined in the bristles that lay on the desk in the corner of the room next to a big bay window.

You wondered if the room had always been this way or if it had only become so sterile after her husband had died.

You concluded that it probably had always been that way when you searched the west wing and found Elliot's room to be in a similar shape, and the same for his older brother's.

Like many rich kids who hadn't worked a day of their youth away because of their parents' wealth, Elliot and Richard Henley had stuck around after they graduated high school, even into their late thirties.

It was interesting to you that Hazel, their mother, had them stay in a separate wing. For privacy or because she couldn't stand them? Either option was likely. Maybe it was for both reasons.

It took you a half hour to thoroughly check each room and give time for any presence to make themselves known, but none did, and with a long sigh you headed down the hall to return to Tim's side.

He was leaning against the door, arms folded, clearly trying to be patient, but still appearing annoyed. When he spotted you moving towards him he grunted. "Took you long enough."

"There's a lot of rooms," you said defensively.

He dropped his arms to his sides. "Please tell me you at least got something."

You shook your head apologetically and he groaned. "Great. So, this was a bust."

"Mostly, yeah," you agreed. "But I did find out that Hazel sleeps as far away from her sons' rooms as possible."

"They probably partied late into the night," Tim guessed.

It was as good of a guess as yours, but for some reason your intuition was screaming at you that there was something more to it, and in your experience it was wise not to ignore it. You'd definitely have some questions to ask the family when you got back to the police department.

Tim gestured to the door and you both stepped outside together, back onto the porch. As he locked the door again, a gust of wind ripped through the sheltered area and you shivered. It could have been just from the cold weather, but normal wind didn't usually make your skin crawl.

You glanced around warily and Tim noticed. His eyes filled with concern at your discomfort. "You sense something now?"

"That gust didn't feel right," you informed him, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth and a sense of security. "Too cold for the season." You snuggled your nose into the wool jacket you were wearing.

His eyebrows furrowed at that. "What does that mean to you?"

"If Elliot's spirit caused that sudden gust of wind," you hesitated, not wanting it to be so, "Which I'm almost certain of, he's furious at something. Probably someone. Not necessarily who killed him. I've had several cases where the spirit was upset about something that happened right before they were murdered, since sometimes they aren't aware enough to remember what happened to them." You bit your lip. "Angry spirits aren't discriminatory. They want to lash out, get revenge, and it doesn't matter who's on the other end of their fury, as long as they are affected. Not everyone is, but sensitives like me are."

"You've been hurt by spirits before?" The lines between Tim's brows deepened. You wondered how much of it was from disbelief and how much was from genuine concern, but the fact there was concern at all was nice.

"No, I haven't had a spirit hurt me physically," you answered. "But they're great at causing nightmares and I had one purposely spook me into stumbling backwards. I was at the top of a flight of stairs."

You could've sworn a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes in reaction to what you'd disclosed, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. "Let's get you out of here then."

You didn't need to be told twice.

x

The first stop you and Rockford made after returning to the department was the Forensics Division to check for updates. You sought out Joe, finding him in the basement examining Elliot's body.

It was your first time seeing Mr. Henley outside the few family photos that had been scattered about in the mansion, and it was unsettling. It wasn't the first time you'd walked in on an autopsy, but it was the first time you'd seen a brain outside a body, in the gloved hands of the medical examiner. Your stomach did a little flip at the sight, and you tried to keep your eyes from directly looking at it and Elliot's open skull after.

"Got anything for us, Joe?" Tim inquired.

The rail thin man continued his study of Elliot's brain while he spoke. "I've got enough. Elliot here had a cardiac event. Some of his heart valves are damaged. But it wasn't natural. And my conclusion has nothing to do with him being thirty-five. Look at this."

Joe placed Elliot's brain back into his head and pointed out some dark pigmentation scattered on his skin and under his nails. "Hyperpigmentation." He pulled out a kidney that was sliced in half. Even for one that belonged to a deceased person it didn't look too healthy. "Renal damage. Any guesses as to what happened to him?"

You frowned as you pondered over it. A lot of things could cause these symptoms. But there were few that would make Joe behave this way. "Poison," you said in unison with Tim. You both glanced at each other. "Jinx," you declared, chuckling. He grunted.

"Arsenic to be exact," Joe told you, theatrically gesturing to his desktop computer in the corner of the room. "The blood results were positive for it. The hair samples are still being studied to figure out when the poisoning began, but by the evidence it seems it has been a long while."

"Arsenic is natural though," Tim pointed out. "He could have ingested too much of it by mistake through drinking water or food."

"Ah." Joe nodded. "Yes. But a very high dose was in the milk sample we took from his bowl this morning. That's not typical of pasteurized, grade A milk. Guessing he wasn't dying fast enough for whoever was adding it to his diet so they threw caution to the wind. Funny enough though, the high dose wasn't in him long enough to be the reason his heart failed. That was from the previous attempts stacking up."

"Please tell me someone's on their way to pick up that bowl before someone else gets dosed by accident," you said, though you were certain no one would dare eat from that disgusting bowl.

"Katie's on her way to rectify our mistake of leaving it behind," Joe assured you.

"Do you know if he sought out any medical attention?" Tim asked.

"I called the local hospital," Joe stated, "His primary care doctor works there, but hasn't seen him in two years and he hasn't shown up in the Emergency Room ever. I have no doubt he was suffering for weeks from this, but for whatever reason he never went to the hospital. Maybe he had nosocomephobia?" He shrugged.

"What's that?" you questioned, squinting at him in confusion.

"It's an intense fear of going to the hospital," Tim informed you. "My great tia Lucia had that phobia. She broke a hip one time, fully separated it. Despite the pain, she insisted it couldn't be broken even as she tried and failed to stand over and over. My grandmother was with her at the time."

"That's awful," you remarked, mouth agape. You'd never broken anything before, but you knew hip fractures were one of the worst breaks a person could have. She should have been seized up with pain.

"Fear is pain's greatest competitor," Joe told you solemnly.

Tim tilted his head in his direction.

"So, who do we think did it?" you quizzed. "It must be someone in the family, right?"

"Usually is," Tim replied. "Hazel would be most likely."

"Isn't their mother like eighty?"

"Seventy-eight," Tim corrected you. "And it doesn't take a body builder to kill someone by poison. You should know murderers come in all shapes and sizes and ages."

"Of course." And it wouldn't be the first time you'd helped investigate a murder where the mother killed their child.

"Anything else?" Tim asked Joe.

Joe shook his head. "I'll let you know if there's anything else useful to you as the results come in."

"Time for the interrogations then," you figured.

Tim was already halfway out the door.

x

Upon your arrival at the Homicide Division, Pete Woodward, a young, eager homicide detective-in-training approached you and Tim. Practically flew at you, really. "We've got Hazel and Richard Henley in separate interrogation rooms, ready to talk with you, Rockford. Victim's sisters will be in at noon."

Having lived in the same home, being family, Hazel and Richard were the priority to talk to. They'd been brought in as soon as the investigation had begun, though not officially arrested since there wasn't any solid proof either one of them had motive to kill Elliot yet.

You followed Tim into the first room finding Richard standing inside in a corner, looking bored out of your mind. You wouldn't have expected that from a man that had just lost his brother. Maybe suspect number two was actually the murderer?

"You want to take a seat Mr. Henley?" Tim inquired, gesturing at the gray chair across from yours and his as you both sat down.

"Call me Dick," Richard told him, plopping down on it.

"Really?" You couldn't help the slipped comment. You just didn't understand why anyone would be willing to take on that nickname, especially as a rich person. Did he not notice the possible implications of using it?

Richard either didn't hear you or didn't care; either way he paid you no attention. Tim's eyes however did dart to you for a second before he cleared his throat. "This conversation is going to be recorded, Dick. Is that alright?"

"Whatever you must do, detective. I've got nothing to hide."

Tim pressed record on the voice recorder to his left. "What can you tell us about your brother?"

Richard snorted. "Besides him being a hopeless lazy leech?"

"Aren't you also living with your mother?" you countered.

"I work," Richard informed you defensively, "I only moved back in because I recently got divorced and my new home hasn't been finished yet."

"Uh huh." You'd barely started talking with him and you were already starting to lean more towards him as Elliot's killer than their mother. He had clearly held disdain for his younger brother. That was a pretty good motive.

"Did your brother have any enemies?" Tim questioned.

Richard shrugged. "None that I know of, except his own damn self. He was a loner, mostly. Spent a lot of time online playing games."

"Do we dare ask you how he was with your family, with you?" you inquired.

He chuckled and leaned back. "He was Dad's favorite when he was alive, for some damn reason. Mom loves him out of duty. Our sisters and him get along fine but they don't hang out."

"And you and him?"

"I don't like him not putting in any effort to make his own life," Richard told you, eyes narrowing, "But I wasn't upset enough over it to kill him, if that's what you're wondering."

"We have to consider every possibility," Tim explained to him. "Murders often are committed by those closest to the victim."

"So it is murder?" Richard asked, pursing his lips. "You sound certain."

"We've got evidence that suggests Elliot was slowly poisoned with Arsenic," Tim replied, "Found some in his bowl of cereal."

Richard's eyes widened. "Shit."

"Who normally fed him his meals?" you prompted.

He frowned. "He usually made his own cereal whenever he chose to eat later at night."

"Was he the only one in the house who drank two percent milk?"

His jaw slacked a little. "Yes. Mom and I drink whole milk. You think maybe whoever did this poisoned the whole bottle?"

"I only just considered it now," you admitted. Your eyes flicked to Tim. "Looks like Katie's going to have to bring the jug in now too."

"I'll call her," he said, standing up as he dialed Katie's number and leaning against the wall as he explained to her that she needed to go back to the mansion a third time in less than half a day.

Poor Katie, you thought.

"Who besides you and your mother have access to the fridge on a regular basis?" you pressed.

"The cook, maid, the gardener, the whole family," Richard listed. "None of them have motive to do it."

"That's for us to decide," you told him as Tim sat back down.

Richard turned to him. "Anything else you want to know?"

"Plenty," he said, lifting his eyes to meet Richard's. "Where were you this morning?"

x

It was nearly a half hour later when Tim finished with Richard, letting him go with a warning to not skip town. You were ready to feel that twist in your stomach, your gut instinct, to tell you letting him go was a mistake, but you didn't get it. As much as you'd thought Richard's attitude towards his brother was bordering hate you didn't get murder vibes from him. His nickname suited him well, but being a dick didn't automatically make someone a killer.

The interrogation with Hazel, their frail appearing seventy-eight-year-old mother who looked every bit like the grandmother to four she was, went similarly to the one with Richard. Although Hazel did not share the anger Richard had towards Elliot, she wasn't shedding any tears either. It was so odd to you. You'd had a shaky relationship with your mother before she passed, but you still had felt the loss after she died. You'd still sobbed when she was laid to rest in the cemetery of your hometown. You'd heard of people being numb at first to loss, like they were in some kind of daze, but you doubted that was it.

You started to truly understand for the first time what kind of people tended to find themselves leading successful businesses. You didn't like what you saw.

"Mrs. Henley, did you hate your son?" you inquired boldly.

Her eyes grew wide. "Of course not. I wouldn't have let him stay home if I did. To most he was lazy, but he helped me around the property. Spent time in the garden with me every afternoon. Adopting him was the best decision I ever made."

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes you and Tim had been talking with her there was sadness in her eyes.

Maybe she isn't a psychopath after all, you mused.

"You adopted Elliot?" Tim prompted.

Hazel nodded. "We knew his biological mother. When she died, we decided to take him in, treat him as our own. It's what friends do."

"So kind of you," you said, trying to sound sincere. You couldn't help but think that there was something more; that there was no way this lady had adopted a child out of the goodness of her heart. Adopting him had probably come with tax breaks or something like that.

Elliot and Richard's older sisters, Heidi and Jeanine, who were both in their forties, blonde, and mothers to two children each, all in their teens, weren't much better than Hazel and Richard, clearly not much more than spoiled trophy wives to their rich husbands.

"Maybe Elliot poisoned himself," Heidi suggested, "He didn’t have a lot going for him, you know? I loved him, but he was always the mess up of the family. It had to have eaten at him."

"My brother was kind, but didn't make anything of himself," Jeanine said later during the interview with her. "I'd think him committing suicide makes more sense than murder. None of my family are capable of that."

The linear ceiling light above started blinking furiously above the three of you and you felt the air get thick with tension that was cutting knife worthy. Anger. Your breathing picked up to compensate for the lack of oxygen getting to your lungs. You shivered as a draft hit the back of your neck. Out of habit your eyes darted to and fro, looking for danger but finding nothing visible.

You knew he was there though, watching, and he was trying to tell you his sisters' theories were way off. He definitely had not killed himself.

Tim and Jeanine clearly hadn't felt anything in the air change, surprised by the intense reaction you'd had to the lights flickering, but they had at least seen the lights go off. Once again Tim was studying you, expression trained. "You alright?"

"I'm okay," you answered, "Nothing new for me."

It was true it wasn't new, but it had still shaken you. Kind Elliot Henley seemed to have a lot of hate in his soul in the afterlife. You honestly couldn't blame him though. None of his family, even his sisters who were supposed to like him, had shed any tears in front of you and you were pretty sure shock couldn't account for any of it.

After the interviews were over, you and Tim headed to the office you shared.

"What a piece of work that family is," you muttered as he closed the door behind you. You turned on your heels to face him.

Tim nodded. "Sure is."

"I’m almost certain there's no way either Jeanine or Heidi murdered him though."

"Their alibis are too solid," he agreed. "And they sounded more like they pitied him than were angry at him."

"Exactly."

"We're still going to do a solid background check on them."

"Of course."

He sat down at his desk and you at the computer one, and you both got to work.

x

After thorough searching you and Tim uncovered that the Henley family were generally law-abiding citizens - except for a few speeding tickets (Richard) and a couple court cases for tax evasion by Hazel and her belated husband Roderick, one that had been proven and had ended with him being in prison for a few months. Not with the general population, of course. You'd bet his prison room had been private and clean. Safe.

Though the day had mostly been a bore, you still found yourself exhausted by the end of your twelve hour shift, not hesitating to turn down an invitation to eat out with the floor secretaries from Helen. All you wanted to do was make a sandwich, eat it, and go to bed, as much as you liked Helen.

And that's exactly what you did, not even taking time to read before bed like you typically did.

You startled awake just after midnight to a loud cracking sound. It sounded like one of your potted plants in the living room had been knocked down from one of the wall shelves and had broken when it hit the hardwood floor.

Back in your early thirties you'd taken in a smokey gray cat with stunning light green eyes named Blue that had been owned by a woman who had been murdered in a burglary gone wrong. He'd been a serial houseplant tipper. It had been almost guaranteed one of your houseplant pots would fall victim to him during the course of a week until you learned to tape the underneath of each one to the shelf beneath them.

In your sleep haze you figured he'd finally managed to knock one down, but after a few moments your mind caught up and you remembered that you'd had to give Blue’s vet permission to euthanize him over six years ago, his kidneys having failed at the ripe age of twenty.

Dread seized you, tightened your throat. Had someone broken in? Had you forgotten to lock the door? You were usually very careful about it, but you had been pretty tired.

You reached blindly under your bed for the handgun you kept there, locked away in a black box in the off chance you'd ever need it, and without switching on any lights loaded the chamber with a couple bullets before heading down the short hall with it, into the living room.

You turned the corner carefully, gun at the ready, finger curled right next to the trigger, but the room was clear, except for the spider plant and its pot that had shattered on the floor, spilling most of its dark gardening soil all over the surrounding floorboards.

You sucked in a deep breath and moved into the kitchen but no one was there either. There had to have been someone though. Unless there had been an earthquake, but one of that magnitude would've jostled you awake before the pot had fallen.

You felt it then. Him then. That eerie feeling of being watched by someone no longer quite human creeping under your skin, making you quake, as it often did.

Saying that you were alarmed would be an understatement. Bullets didn't harm spirits.

You slowly twisted around to find him there, looming smack in the middle of the start of your hallway, half hidden by the shadow of your fridge, barely seven feet from you. He was standing with a hunch in his back and an arm curled around his belly, a stance of someone with some kind of severe abdominal pain. His eyes did not hold any of that pain though. All you could see in them was rage.

It was the kind of expression that would make any sane person flee, especially since he wasn't a little guy, so that's what you did, bolting for your car keys on the table and then the front door.

Before you could make it out, as you were slipping through the doorway, you felt searing pain as something sharp dragged down your back, and you concluded in terror that he'd scratched you, all the while racing for your 1991 Taurus.

It wasn't until you'd already driven a mile out from your house that you were able to breath properly again. It was at that exact time the tears spilled from your eyes and everything that had happened during the previous ten minutes settled into your memory.

Elliot was severely pissed, feral. The worst kind of lost spirit. And it had taken him less than a day to get that way. It seemed that the kind man his family had described had hidden an inner darkness. Maybe he'd been successful in life at beating it down, but in death all bets were definitely off. You'd never known a spirit to lose control so fast, even those who had managed to attach themselves to their murderers.

And he'd clearly latched onto you, followed you home. It wasn't the first time a spirit had, but it was the first they could actually harm you to any degree by touch. You swallowed hard. You'd only temporarily escaped. He'd find you again. It would be instant if you returned home any time soon, so you drove around the city aimlessly for a couple hours, after hiding your gun in the glove compartment. You didn't have a concealed weapon permit, but you didn't think leaving it on the passenger seat was wise either if a patrol cop happened to pull you over.

It was past two when you found yourself rolling up into Tim's driveway, not sure where else to go. You knew where Helen lived too, but you did not want to chance dragging her into the mess you found yourself in. She was just a secretary. At least Tim had some training dealing with violent situations, not that it would help much in the face of a being he could not see, let alone hurt.

That was your reasoning at least as you studied the plain looking two-story house in front of you. It was encased in white painted wood where yours was in brick, but with the addition of that second floor it was bigger. Probably not much more expensive though. The house was old, aged by at least three decades where yours had been built less than a decade ago. The paint was also chipping, the outdoor upkeep of it clearly not a priority for him.

Despite the house looking prime for a haunting it called out to you, beckoning you inside, because the man who called it home was your most trusted friend and you knew his presence could at the bare minimum comfort you after the trauma you'd just been through.

You approached with the energy of a woman half your age, sprinting up the front porch steps and pounding on the oak door more demandingly than you had intended.

Tim swung it open a full minute later, in nothing but dark gray sweatpants, his heavy eyes peering out at you, his hair tussled from what had probably been a deep, satisfying sleep.

You'd have felt guilty for waking him if your heart hadn't nearly stopped at the sight of his bare, broad shoulders, defined upper arm muscles, and soft belly.

You'd admittingly dreamed of him more than once in the last year you'd known him, your subconscious mind not caring one bit that he was your partner, but your brain hadn't quite done him justice. You wondered in what other...areas your dreams failed him, but you refused to let your gaze drop below the beginnings of the happy trail on his lower stomach.

"Psy, what are you doing here?" he asked, eyes widening as soon as his brain registered who was standing in front of him.

"Can I please stay here tonight?" you pleaded hurriedly, afraid if you didn't get what you wanted to say out fast that you'd chicken out.

"What's going on?" he questioned, pursing his lips. There was worry in his eyes again. He stepped aside before you could answer, gesturing for you to enter his cozy home.

You did so gratefully and folded your arms self-consciously over your chest. It had just occurred to you that since you were in nothing but thin cotton long sleeved forest green pajamas that your breasts were well defined underneath, especially after standing outside in the chill of an autumn night for some time.

"Elliot's spirit followed me home," you informed him, rubbing your upper arms with your hands, attempting to warm them up. "He attacked me."

"Attacked you?" Tim sounded startled. You met his eyes and saw his concern deepen. He hadn't thought to say that it was impossible because it was all in your head. You wondered if he was finally starting to come around to the idea that spirits existed.

If he wasn't, he surely would after what you'd do next.

"He scratched me," you continued, voice shaky as you turned your back to him and curled the tips of your fingers around the hem of the back of your shirt. "How bad is it?"

You rolled it up as high as you thought the scratch went and heard Tim inhale sharply as you revealed it to him. You felt his rough yet gentle hands glide over yours as he lifted your shirt up just a little higher to take in the full damage.

"Elliot did this?" he growled, sounding outraged, a fierce anger in his tone that you had not been prepared for, typically a man who was subtle with all his emotions.

"How bad is it?" you repeated, wanting desperately to know.

"There's three long marks diagonally along the center of your back," he stated stiffly, attempting to rein in his upset. "They are about four inches in length, start to finish. Luckily they don't look too deep, but judging from the blood on your shirt, they did bleed for some amount of time."

You stepped away from him and dropped your shirt back into place before facing him again. "I wouldn't do that to myself."

"I know," he said firmly. You could tell from his tense expression alone that he believed you. "There's no way you could've reached back there to scratch yourself up like that. No normal human's nails could mark you that badly anyway.”

There was great relief from him finally accepting that spirits were real, especially that night. You desperately had needed him to believe it after having been shaken up so significantly. Your sight was blinded by tears again.

Tim reached out to squeeze your left shoulder supportively. "Does it hurt? Do you want to go to the hospital? I can drive you."

You shook your head, unable to prevent the smile that briefly adorned your face, remembering how'd he been with you when you first met. Oh how the times do change. "No, I just need a place to crash. Can I take your couch?"

"Better yet, you can take my spare bed," he replied, dropping his hand back to his side. "Follow me up. I'll show you to the room and get a fresh shirt and dressing for you. Going to need to clean those marks to make sure they don't get infected."

You nodded and trailed him as he climbed the stairs to the second floor without another word, flipping on lights as he went.

He entered the first room on the left and made his way in the dark to the nightstand to turn on the white lamp centered on its surface. The light emitted from it was dim, but good enough to use while cleaning your wound. Without a word Tim gestured for you to sit on the edge of the bed and strolled out of the room to collect the items he'd need to treat the scratches on your back.

He returned a few minutes later with scissors, gauze, medical tape, disinfectant, and an old plain black t-shirt in hand. He offered the shirt to you as soon as he was within your reach. You noted the charcoal gray t-shirt he'd slipped on while he was gone.

"I didn't think you owned anything besides black and white suits," you teased, trying to lighten the mood as you accepted it, folding the black shirt up on your lap until you could switch it out with your bloodied pajama one.

"We've never been around each other on our off days," he pointed out, a hint of a teasing tone in his voice. "I like to be comfortable just like anyone else."

For some reason it had been hard for you to imagine him in anything else but his work apparel. It was strange seeing him in casual clothes. Strange because it felt almost intimate. Like it was a part of his life you shouldn't have seen as his professional partner.

"Gonna sit behind you," he informed you quietly, gruffly. "Can you hold up the back of your shirt while I clean your wounds?"

You nodded, finding yourself tongue-tied, and couldn't help but note how much the mattress sank as he settled on it just outside of your peripheral vision. You could feel the front of one of his knees lightly brushing against your back after he was seated. You tried not to think about it as you lifted your shirt so he had easy access to the scratches.

"This is going to sting," he warned.

Nodding again, you tensed as he pressed a wet gauze to your upper back, hissing at the sting of the disinfectant he was using. It was the only painful thing about Tim tending to your wounds. His calloused hands occasionally brushed your sensitive, slightly inflamed skin, but they were as gentle as they could be. You found yourself trembling under his touch, and it wasn't because of the pain. With every feather light glance of his fingertips the desire you'd consistently tried to stomp out for months flared with newfound strength.

"Sorry," he apologized in the softest tone you'd ever heard him speak in. "Almost done."

You clutched at the mattress beneath you as he taped gauze to your upper back, trying to focus on that rather than his presence, grateful that your reactions were only coming off as ones of pain to him. He wasn't completely wrong.

“All done,” he finally announced, and you expected to be relieved when his hands pulled away from you, but instead you felt your hunger for him surge within you. You couldn’t keep still. You needed his hands back on you.

You twisted in place, dropping the shirt that had been on your lap, and crashed your lips into his desperately, hands splaying out on his chest as you prayed silently that he would respond, and respond he did, tugging you closer, curling a hand around the base of your neck, licking into the heat of your mouth, and you realized in that moment that he had desired you just as much.

When you both took a breath, he pulled his head back far enough to study your face, searching for anything in your expression that could tell him what more you wanted from him. He would only give as much as you asked for.

You answered his silent question with another searing kiss, your hands traveling to his back and up into his hair, ruffling it as you sought purchase. You pressed yourself closer to him and he embraced you, arms wrapping around your lower back, careful to avoid your bandaged wound.

It wasn’t long before you guided his hands to the edge of your shirt and he got your message instantly, easing your sleep shirt up off of you and chucking it to the floor.

The chill in the room had your bare nipples immediately hard, and he didn’t miss it, his thumbs tracing your stiff buds, blown dark eyes flickering between your breasts and face. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you whined. You lolled your head back and one of his hands left your chest to support your neck again as he leaned towards you to lave at your exposed neck. Your fingers slipped into his short, slightly wavy hair again as you hummed under his attentiveness. "So good."

You reached for the chord of his sweatpants to untie it, the back of your hand brushing against the hardening bulge behind it, and he groaned as he jerked away from you, as if it was painful to do so. “We don’t have to do anything else if you don’t want to.”

“Where’d you get the idea I didn’t?” you chuckled. You definitely did not want to stop.

“I don’t have any condoms on hand,” he admitted after a few moments. “The last box I had expired.”

“Well, lucky for the both of us I’ve already gone through menopause,” you told him, kissing the corner of his mouth fondly, his moustache scrapping pleasantly against your lips. “And I’ve been just as focused on work as you have been the last few years or so.”

He caught onto your underlying meaning and tilted his head to catch your full mouth again as you loosened his pants, tugging them down as far as you could while still on the bed, revealing his black and white checkered boxers.

In a brief, humorous thought, you made a mental note to get him items of clothing that weren’t black, white, tan, or gray for his next birthday. The man needed more color in his life.

He didn’t notice the amusement on your face as he stood and kicked the pants the rest of the way off him, and when you laid back so he could remove your pants, it was gone. Nothing but want to invade your mind and your face.

Slowly but surely the last articles of clothing remaining on you both were added to the pile on the floor as your mouths and hands explored each other greedily. Once you were free, you knelt on the edge of the bed in front of him and reached out to hold the heft of him in your hands, stroking him confidently, spreading the precum leaking from his head up his entire length. Your firm, yet caressing touch had his knees buckling, and he groaned into your mouth as he braced himself against the bed with an arm, the other molded around your hips. You glanced up at his face briefly as you continued to pump him with your hands and the edges of your mouth lifted, taking delight in watching him watch you work him up with hooded eyes.

Once he was firm you shuffled back on the bed to make room for him to join you, mirroring your kneeling position. He reached down between your legs and you gasped as his fingers made contact with your clit, circling and tracing it until you were thrusting against his hand and him sliding two thick fingers inside you was enough to make you come, a warmth flooding your core as you lurched forward, panting against his chest, giving yourself time to enjoy the waves of ecstasy that followed. It had been quite some time since someone had made you feel that way.

When it was over you firmly pushed him back onto his palms and heels, a soft smile on your face. He raised his eyebrows slightly at you, wondering what you had in mind, but did not resist, curiosity winning out over any yearning he might have to be in control.

You had an idea of what you were doing, but most of it was instinct, wanting to be face to face with him without either of you being on your backs. You clung to his shoulders with your arms, lifting yourself up high enough to hover over him as you climbed onto his lap and folded your legs around his waist, lining your entrance up with his head before you let yourself slowly drop down on top of him.

He was thick, and it was a tight fit, but the foreplay had done its job, making you slick enough to take him deep. The drag of his cock inside you had him gritting his teeth the whole time you slid  him into you. He wound his strong arms around your lower back to brace you as you began to roll your hips against him and he joined in your rhythm, gliding in and out of you at a steady pace. Your faces stayed close, cheek to cheek, his beard prickling yours. You whimpered when he hit you particularly deep and he turned his head to nuzzle his nose against yours. “Okay?” he rasped between soft grunts.

You nodded vigorously, eyes snapped shut, breaths heavy. There were no other words spoken between you as you rocked together, letting your bodies and the sounds that slipped out of your mouths do the communicating.

It took you a little longer than it would’ve when you were younger, but when he found that special spot inside you his insistent press into it had you squeezing him and moaning loudly, invoking praise from his lips in the form of your name. He stilled in you soon after, cock spasming, spurting hot inside you as he emitted a low satisfied hmph, kissing along your lower jaw through both of your aftershocks.

When it was over, he let himself fall back onto one of the bed pillows and you followed him, still on top of him, allowing him to linger inside you as he softened, as your racing hearts returned to their normal rhythms, as you caught back your breaths. You were silent the whole time, not saying a word, just enjoying the intimate closeness with him. Trying not to let any of the fears and doubts knocking at your door in as your mind cleared from your lustful haze.

Eventually you rolled off him and he made a move to stand, only having managed to sit up when you pressed a palm against his broad chest in attempt to stop him from moving anymore.

“Stay with me, please?”

His eyes turned up to the doorway then back to your face, his expression saying what he wouldn't. He was uncertain if he should stay, though you could tell he wanted to. A brief kiss to his shoulder was all it took to convince him. "Alright. I'll stay."

You both took time to clean yourselves up in the bathroom across the hall, dressed back into your sleep clothes (you wearing his black t-shirt), and unmade the bed together, curling up under the thick blankets immediately after. You flipped onto your side, a hand folded under your pillow, and you smiled as he molded his burly body against your back, careful not to put any pressure on your wounds. His right arm draped over your stomach and you reached down to clasp his hand in yours, grateful for his affection. You felt safe in his arms, in a way you hadn't felt in a very long time, not when violent deaths and literal ghosts were a consistent part of your work. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed you as well, lulling you to sleep.

The last thing you felt as you drifted off was him burying his face into your neck.

x

You woke in the early morning to the beginnings of daylight spilling into the bedroom from the small window inside it. You were still warm, but when you registered that Tim's body was no longer pressed against yours, dread filled you. Had he decided to go back to his own bed after all?

You forced yourself to stand, quietly moving down the hall to peer into the next room over, the only other one with a bed in the house. The bed had been clearly used the night before, but it was empty, and when you dared to walk over to touch the sheets, they were freezing cold. You couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips at that before you tip toed back out the room. It had to be a good sign that he'd stayed the whole night with you, right?

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you headed for the bathroom and locked the door behind you so you could pee in privacy, still trying to push away your anxiety over how this morning would go. How Tim would be with you, what he would say. Where would you stand? You couldn't imagine the previous night being the one and only time you ever spent with him intimately, but you knew if he didn't want a real relationship you'd turn down any halfway offers. You weren't built for sex without emotion tied to it. It was in part why you hadn't had any for years, besides the forementioned workaholic issue.

You tried to ignore the ache that was forming in your chest as you washed your hands then brushed your teeth, splashing water in your face after, in an attempt to look put together when you were anything but after all that had occurred with Elliot and then Tim.

You strolled into the kitchen, finding Tim at the counter, pouring steaming hot coffee into two mugs. "Just in time," he said, his back still turned to you. You mused that he must have better hearing than you if he'd heard you padding into the room in your socks. None of the floorboards had squeaked. Maybe it was the job that had made him hyper aware.

"You want some coffee?" he asked, like everything between you was the same as it had been twenty-four hours before. You felt a tinge of annoyance that he could act so normal, but you hid it from him.

"Sure, if you have sugar and milk."

"Of course." He nodded at you and reached inside the fridge so he could grab the whole milk inside and mix a teaspoon of it into the coffee mug on his right, followed by a teaspoon of sugar from the canister on the countertop. He left his free of additives, preferring his black, something that still had you twitching your nose even after having seen him drink it nearly every day for the past year. You couldn't imagine drinking coffee as is, even if it was made with high quality whole beans.

Tim passed you your mug as you sat down at the small kitchen table in the far corner of the room. Instead of joining you he leaned back against the counter, eyes focused on his mug when he wasn't sipping from it.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" you inquired after a few minutes, the silence bothering you more than the fear of the conversation you were about to push.

Tim lifted his head to meet your eyes, appearing a bit ashamed. "I shouldn't have. Should've backed off. You were afraid. Seeking comfort. I feel like I took advantage of you."

You huffed. "I didn't sleep with you because I was afraid. I slept with you because your hands felt good on my skin. Because I trust you. Because I have feelings for you. Have for a long time. Do you know how good you look in suspenders?"

He snorted quietly, eyes falling back to the mug in his hands. "I've felt something for you for a while too. I've just been denying it to myself."

"Because of my abilities?" you guessed, trying not to be bothered by what was in the past.

He shook his head, looking back up at you. "I've been in denial about that too. Last night was not when you finally convinced me the spirits you see exist. It was slow, it snuck up on me, my belief, increasing with every case we took on that had an active one interacting with you. The way you consistently knew things you shouldn't have. The occasional unexplained eerie feeling I got sometimes right before you'd react to one showing itself to you. That's what eventually sold me. I just never imagined one would hurt you."

You recalled his reaction when he saw your scratches for the first time. "You were afraid for me. Last night."

"Of course," he confirmed with a growl. "Still am. He hurt you, he could hurt you again, and because Elliot's already dead I can't do shit about it."

There was a hint of defeat, of helplessness in his voice that made you feel like your heart was in a vice grip. You wanted nothing more than to run up to him and hug him, to reassure him it would be fine, but you denied yourself of that moment to further the conversation.

"The only way Elliot leaves me alone is if we solve the case," you told him. "And we've got a little over a couple hours before we can get back to that task. In the meantime, we need to figure out where we stand."

"Like if we pretend this never happened or we report to HR?"

"Something like that."

He peered back down at the coffee in his mug. "What do you want?"

"What do you think?" You curled your fingertips tighter around your mug. "I want whatever you want, unless that boils down to meaningless sex. I can't do that. What do you want?"

He sighed heavily. "A part of me wishes I could take last night back, and another part has no regrets." You swallowed hard, but said nothing as he continued, "This will complicate things at work. No matter what route we take. There's a reason HR frowns on people in the same unit having any kind of intimate relationship with each other."

"Because they're stupid," you muttered, sipping at your coffee, eyes shifting to peer up at him, waiting expectantly.

He couldn't help but chuckle even as he shook his head disapprovingly at you.

"I asked what you wanted, not HR," you reminded him, as you abandoned your mug at the table to join him by the counter.

When you got just within arm's reach he cupped your face with one palm gently, stroking his thumb over your cheek. "I want to see where this goes," he admitted.

"Then let's do that," you said as a weight lifted off your chest. "Screw HR."

Tim grunted. "We'll have to tell them eventually."

"Well, eventually is not going to be today."

He nodded his agreement as he guided your face closer to his, pressing a kiss to your lips more sweetly than you could've imagined him capable of.

When he pulled away you touched your forehead to his shoulder. "I need to get my work clothes at my house."

Elliot was not likely waiting there for you, and he could turn up anytime, anywhere, he even could've popped up right then and there in Tim's kitchen, but you still were not looking forward to it.

"I'll go with you," he offered immediately. "Let me put on my glasses and a pair of jeans and I'll drive you, go inside with you. You can grab whatever you need to get dressed for work and bring it back here. If that would make you feel safer."

He knew as well as you that it didn't matter to Elliot where you went, but he also knew going back to your home so soon after the attack would be difficult for you and that him being there would make a difference to you mentally.

"Thanks," you murmured. "I'll take you up on that."

"You can also stay here until the case is solved," he added, "No strings attached. I'm not expecting last night to happen again any time soon. I'm not trying to rush things. I just don't like the idea of you being alone while Elliot's still around, even though I know logically I wouldn't be able to stop him from hurting you again."

You beamed at him and wriggled your eyebrows. "Who says I don't want to repeat that any time soon?"

He cursed under his breath as you pulled away from him with a playful smirk and headed for the door. "I'll wait in the car."

"That's not fair, Psy," he called after you.

You didn't look back, but you were smiling warmly as you exited the house.

x

Luckily your fears of returning home were unwarranted, your quest to gather a few sets of clothes and beauty products uneventful. Maybe it had something to do with Tim standing formidably in the doorway to your bedroom as you packed your suitcase. Did the dead ever get intimidated by the living?

In any case you were grateful to get out of there without another confrontation with Elliot.

As soon as you and Tim arrived back at his house you both showered, him in the master bathroom and you in the hallway bathroom. He was dressed in a half hour and you in an hour, barely finishing up in time to not be late for work.

You and Tim took your own vehicles (well, he took his detective car), not wanting to spike the curiosity of any prying eyes and nosey noses in the department. Helen, bless her soul, would've been the first asking twenty questions and it was the last thing either of you wanted with your newfound relationship literally only hours old.

When you entered the Homicide Division you spotted Tim towards the back of the room having a conversation with Katie. You strolled up to them, a polite smile on your face.

"Anything new, Katie?" you asked lightly as you came to a stop between them, making sure you were no more closer or farther from Tim than you usually positioned yourself.

"Nothing with me personally," she told you, "But the Henley case, oh boy. Dex, the poison expert on our team tested a mystery substance in a gas can found half buried in the woods behind their mansion."

"And there were traces of arsenic."

"Of course," she said, "But that's just the beginning. There was blood on the canister. Just a speck. Looks like the killer cut themselves on the hard plastic trying to open the lid. I swabbed it and compared it to the oral samples we took from each of the Henley’s. Compared it to a blood sample from Elliot for good measure..."

You waited but after several seconds of silence you huffed. You hated when people stretched out tension, like a reality show going to commercial break right before the winner is revealed. "What'd you find kid?"

You could've sworn Katie's eyes were glowing with excitement. Whatever information she had was juicy.

"First off, you remember how Elliot is adopted, right?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Yeah..."

"Well, turns out he is actually related to Richard and his sisters," Katie informed you, "But not Hazel."

"Roderick cheated on her," you concluded, eyes broadening. "And she let him adopt his son when his mistress died?"

"She might have not known," Katie offered, "Not until now at least."

"Are you suggesting she's our prime suspect?" Tim quizzed.

"I would be," she replied, "...if it wasn't Richard's blood on the canister."

"He described Elliot as a leech," you recalled. "A lazy one at that. It wouldn't be a big stretch to think that after finding out Elliot is their father's bastard son that he might consider him unworthy of living in their mansion. Worse than an interloper; living, breathing evidence that their father was not faithful to their mother."

"We've got enough for you to get an arrest warrant," you stated.

"Let's get going then," Tim said, buttoning up his trench coat. "The sooner we have that warrant the better."

He didn't mention that it was because Elliot had become a threat.

x

By mid afternoon Richard was back in the same interrogation room he had been in the previous day, dressed in a suit and tie, having been caught on the front porch of the mansion right after returning home from a business meeting.

At first he wouldn't stop rambling, mostly about how he was going to sue the whole department for every penny for falsely accusing him, but he'd been quiet since Tim had revealed that Forensics had DNA proof that he'd opened the canister of arsenic, the gravity of his situation having finally sunk in.

"I know you said you're not going to talk anymore until your lawyer gets in," Tim started as he sat down in front of him, "But indulge me. Let me tell you how I think everything went down."

Richard stared at him, maintaining a neutral expression.

"I think somehow you found out Elliot was actually your half brother," Tim continued, "And I think you decided your good-for-nothing half brother had to go. You couldn't risk it getting out that your father, the head of your family, had once had a mistress. You had to keep your family's reputation clean of that kind of scandal for the sake of your business' success. Am I right?"

Richard had been well trained in the art of, well, training his face, but you had trained yourself well in the art of observation and you'd had several more years than him to practice. When Tim had called Elliot his half brother Richard's eyes had widened just a bit.

"You didn't know he was your biological brother," you realized. "You didn't murder Elliot." You took a step towards him, away from the wall your back had been pressed against. "Who had you open the gas canister, Dick?"

He refused to speak.

"Was it Jeanine? Heidi? No..." You paused, "It was Hazel after all, wasn't it?"

"Dick, without your statement, without the truth, we will have to go ahead with prosecuting you," Tim declared. "All the evidence points to you. Unless you can say otherwise or tell us of other evidence that would contradict what we've gathered."

"Guess I'm going to prison then," he snarled.

"Well, no one can argue you're not a good son," you said with a shrug, trying to act casual. "Guess there's nothing left for us to say here."

You headed for the door and Tim followed you out. "You have an idea."

"Actually, I don't," you admitted. "I was hoping you did. Since my little ghost problem won't go away until we put his real killer behind bars."

Tim worked his jaw. "We let Richard sit in prison for a few days, then let Hazel visit him and talk with her again after. Maybe she loves him enough to confess."

"A few days?" You arched your brows and he narrowed his eyes at you, his expression warning you not to say anything else.

"I don't have any ulterior motives behind the time frame," he told you. "We have the weekend off and Richard needs time to stew. To realize how awful prison truly is. Either he breaks or Hazel does."

You couldn't help the crooked smile that formed on your face. "Cold..."

“Apt.”

"True."

x

You spent the rest of the day digging up information on the Henley family history at the public library seven minutes away from the department and going over some photos that had been confiscated from the mansion.

One in particular got your attention. A wedding photo of Hazel and Roderick. “They look so happy,” you observed from over Tim’s shoulder as he studied it in one hand, his glasses grasped in the other. Something occurred to you. “Do you think she killed him too, for cheating?”

Tim shook his head. “I checked into his death. It was from lung cancer. He was a heavy smoker.”

"Of course.”

Tim checked his watch. "Time to clock out. Do you want to head out to a bar?"

It was a fairly common for him to ask you if you wanted to hang out at Liquid Alchemy on a Friday night, or after a case was closed, but it was the first time he had suggested a bar and not Liquid Alchemy by name. You cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

"There's this upscale full bar in the Lazy Queen restaurant on the other side of the city," Tim informed you. "I've never been, but I've heard good things. Though it's a little pricey for everyone here. For one night it wouldn't hurt to indulge though. I'll pay."

You got the message. The bar's location and prices would keep anyone you knew from work away and would allow you both to enjoy the rest of the night without prying eyes.

You glanced at the doorway of your shared office, making sure no one on the floor outside of it was within earshot. "Sounds like a date."

"If you'd like it to be."

"I would."

Tim dropped the photo in his hand on the desk and put his glasses back on before pushing himself up onto his feet with a small grunt, his left hand briefly clutching at his stiff lower back. You held back a comment about him needing to get a new office chair. You'd already mentioned it to him several times before, but he was stubborn.

"I'll head out right now," he told you as he shrugged on his trench coat, which had been draped over the chair in front of his desk. "Give me five before you follow me. We'll meet up at my house and you can jump in with me, okay?"

You grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

He dared a quick kiss to your temple as he passed you on the way out of the room and your lips pulled back even more.

Dating Tim was going to get dangerous. You could get used to him being affectionate with you.

x

The Lazy Queen's restaurant had the best Margaritas you could ever recall, and they hit hard too. After only a couple your usually not-so-lightweight self had become a chatty twenty questions kind of gal. It was so out of character for you Tim was amused by your behavior, lips quirking up on several occasions as you continued through your list of questions which he all answered patiently.

"Horror or action films?"

"Action."

"Have you ever seen snow in person?"

"Of course. It snows in Portland. Just not every year. Heard rumors we might this December, but it's not something to bet on."

"What's the story behind this?" you quizzed, stretching forward to clasp his left hand in yours, displaying the small target tattoo in between his thumb and index finger.

"I got it when I first started basic training," he answered. "It was to remind myself to hit bullseye every time. Literally and figuratively. To never lose sight of my goals."

"And have you not?" you inquired.

"Not what?"

"Lost sight of your goals."

He shrugged, taking a sip of the fancy drink in his right hand, and you realize you've forgotten the name of it. You pushed your current Margarita, your third, away from you. "I've had to take a few failures like everyone else. We can't solve every case."

There was something in his dark eyes, a hint of grief and guilt, that sobered you up a bit because you knew then that he was thinking about his lost sister.

"Think you're sober enough to drive us home?" you asked him with a sigh.

His eyebrows shot up. "You moving in permanently?" He was smiling lightly, teasing.

"Not yet," you huffed. "You know what I meant. Your home."

"Yeah," he said, an index finger circling the edge of his glass. "I'm sober enough. I don't even have a buzz. I've been nursing this lone drink all night. You didn't notice?"

"Shut up."

x

You were running barefoot through the forest at night at full speed, in a flowing white dress that reached your knees, eyes darting over your shoulders on occasion to make sure whatever you were trying to escape wasn't gaining on you. It was too dark out to see that far behind you though.

Fallen leaves crunched under your bare feet, damp moss made you slip twice, and you had to leap a few tree roots that stuck out of the ground but you didn't slow your pace for even a moment.

You heard a river roaring in the distance and for some reason you were convinced that crossing that would save you, so you aimed for the sound, stretching your legs out as far as you could in hopes of covering ground even faster. You stopped looking back, certain if you kept moving that you'd get to safety.

You pushed through a thicket of trees and had to skid to a stop, narrowly preventing yourself from falling off the cliff on the other side of it, one of your feet halfway over the edge. You were right next to a waterfall. You gasped at the close call.

Remembering that you had been running from something you twisted around and your eyes grew into saucers when you spotted it. A black human shaped mass easily flowing through the trees, into the same open space you were in.

"You can run, but you can't hide forever," said a furious masculine voice. It was coming from the black mass, though you could not see a mouth, let alone see it move.

"Why are you chasing me?" you demanded fearfully.

"Because you are fleeing," the voice growled, like it was the simplest thing. Maybe it was to him. Nothing but a predator chasing prey.

You swallowed hard as he took a step forward. "I spent so much time living fictional lives, I forgot how entertaining the living could be to mess with."

Your eyes grew bigger. "Elliot," you whispered. "You don't belong here."

"In your dreams, or in the world?" he hissed as his form reshaped into the man you'd seen lying dead on a cold table less than forty-eight hours ago.

"Both," you replied. "Spirits who stick around can become troubled fairly quickly."

"You think I'm one of your troubled ghosts?" He chuckled, a gleam in his already eerie gray eyes. "All I've done is discover the benefits of being dead."

"This isn't the man who sat with his mother in the garden," you noted.

"No," he agreed. "That man was murdered by her. Apparently."

At your surprised reaction he beamed. "I was there when you interviewed my brother for the second time. I just made sure you couldn't tell. I'm getting better at stuff like that."

You shivered. "This isn't you, Elliot." You knew it to be true in your gut. Everyone had the capacity to commit evil, some more than others, but what mattered was how you had behaved, and while Elliot had maybe been lazy, nothing you'd heard or read about him had hinted at him behaving badly in any kind of way. The in between had twisted him beyond recognition.

"Who says anyone has to stay the same?" He strolled towards you and you took another step back, finding yourself teetering, dangerously close to falling over the cliff. He grinned. "It's fun messing with you."

He shoved you, catching you off guard for a second, sending you flying over. You heard your skull crack against a stone before you collapsed into the frigid water at the bottom.

x

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled ragged breaths from your lungs as you shot up into a sit in Tim's guest room bed. For a few seconds you didn't move other than to press your right hand to your chest and close your eyes as you focused on recovery.

It had felt so real, but it had all been a dream. You could hardly remember the last time you'd been so relieved. It was short lived though, as you realized that Elliot might've been the crafter of your nightmare. After all, though it was rare, it had happened before with other spirits. It would explain why you were still shaking. He was nearby, close enough to affect you, for you to sense him on some subconscious level.

On the way back to Tim's house you'd both decided that sleeping in separate bedrooms would be best for your relationship for a bit, not wanting to rush into it any more than you'd already had.

You regretted that as you rolled over and ran your hand over the cold spot next to you on the mattress in an attempt to seek comfort. You'd taken pride in yourself all your life for being independent, for not needing anyone else when you left the office, but there were occasions, nights like these, when the solace of another body besides yours would've been much more preferable.

For the first time in your life when a spirit had taken the reins of your subconscious, you had the option to change your situation. To seek that comfort you wanted so profoundly. You slid out of bed and walked into the doorway of the room next door, quietly knocking on the solid oak, trying to wake Tim without startling him.

He still flinched a little when he woke up, glancing around sleepily as he rolled from his side and onto his back. When he noticed you wordlessly standing in his doorway he blinked at you, confused. "What's wrong?"

You were suddenly shy, feeling stupid. Like you going to see him was childish, even though your nightmare hadn't been just a nightmare and you had every right to be afraid. "Elliot's nearby."

Tim sat up in bed quickly, the blankets that had covered him up to his shoulders slipping down to his waist. He had kept on the plain red shirt that he'd worn that night to bed with a fresh new pair of light gray sweatpants. "Where?"

"I don't know," you replied. "But he was in my dreams. He said he overheard that it was his adoptive mother who killed him and then he pushed me over a waterfall and I woke up."

"I'm sorry, Psy," he said, standing so he could rub your arms comfortingly. "Maybe waiting for Hazel to confess was a mistake."

You shook your head. "It's the only good plan we have. Any other could've screwed up the case. It's not your fault. And at least he didn't show up here in the house."

You still weren't exactly sure why.

"Do you want to stay with me?" Tim questioned. "Share the bed? Would that help?"

You shrugged. "Maybe. He doesn't seem to like interacting with me when you're around for some reason."

"He is shorter than me," he stated as if it made total sense.

You snorted at his joke but some part of you wondered if Elliot really was intimated by him. Sometimes spirits still acted like they were living and breathing. That could include fearful behavior.

In any case, you weren't about to turn down the offer you'd been hoping to get. "I'll take the right side, if that's alright. I sleep better there."

"You're in luck," Tim told you. "I actually sleep on the left most nights."

He returned to his bed, lifting the blankets high enough so you could easily follow, tucking yourself into his side. "Is this okay?" you asked him.

"Perfect."

Saturday and Sunday night were also spent cuddled up with each other in the same way. Tim didn't complain, and since you didn't have sex, you figured you were still complying pretty well with the promise you'd made to each other to slow things down while you began to learn each other on a much more personal level than you had before.

You were really reconsidering it though.

x

Monday morning you and Tim returned to work refreshed, coming back from a mostly relaxing weekend filled with old movies, takeout, and the background noise of rain.

You were so ready to get back to the case on that crisp, sunny day that it startled you when you spotted Hazel waiting for you both outside of the department's main entrance, extending her wrists out towards Tim in a gesture telling him to arrest her.

You and Tim both nearly dropped the coffee shop cups in your hands.

"I've come to confess," she declared, as if she needed to. "I killed Elliot."

Tim slapped the pair of cuffs he always kept on him while on duty onto her wrists and made sure they were secure. "Hazel Henley, you have the right to remain silent..."

x

Within ten minutes you, Tim, and Hazel were settled into one of the interrogation rooms, and Tim was holding up a voice recorder in front of her, flicking it on to record. "Start from the beginning. State your name and explain why you are here."

"My name is Hazel Henley, and I am here to confess that I killed Elliot Henley."

There was a slight tremble in her voice, but you were almost certain it was from having to admit to a crime and not because she regretted that he was dead.

"Mrs. Henley, why did you kill your son?" you prompted, trying to ignore a thickness that started to fill the air, making it a little harder to breath, putting something deep inside you on edge. Elliot was in the room, and he wasn't trying to hide it.

"Because he wasn't mine," she huffed. "Not really. Not at all in my eyes."

You frowned. "You didn't care about him; not even when you intially adopted him?"

"No," she answered bitterly. "How could I? Knowing he was my husband's bastard son?"

Tim lifted a brow. "You knew?"

"Of course I did," she said with annoyance. "I'm not stupid. Roderick was the one who came up to me suggesting we adopt him, nearly begged me. It was obvious. He would've never begged for a kid that wasn't of his own blood. Son of a friend or not."

"You knew Elliot's mother?"

"She was a neighbor of ours," Hazel explained. "Born into her money. Loved doing charity work as a job. The only sweet thing about her. She lived alone but had a way with people. Knew how to intertwine herself into everyone else's lives, make them worship her, or at least invite her to parties. She probably got pregnant on purpose in attempt to make Roderick leave me for her. I got the last laugh. Or so I thought, until the bitch died in a car accident."

"Why'd you agree to adopt Elliot?" you inquired, genuinely curious.

"Because Roderick always got his way," Hazel told you. "I wasn't always a strong-minded woman. I was worried saying no would be the last straw in our already broken marriage. I was trying to mend it."

"Then Roderick died..." Tim trailed.

"Then Roderick died," Hazel repeated. "And I was free to get rid of him before I got too old, before he could get a cent more of our money."

"Why did the canister of arsenic have Richard's blood on it?"

Hazel raised both of her hands in the air, palms down. They were tremoring slightly. "I can't get a good grip on most things nowadays. I needed someone to twist the lid open and pour some into a few smaller jars."

"He had no idea what you were doing?" you asked.

"He didn't even question what was inside," she replied. "He just poured it and left. My ever loyal son. I'm only confessing because he doesn't deserve to be in prison because of me. He has so much life left ahead of him."

You felt a flash of anger lick at your insides. Even though Elliot's spirit had attacked you twice, he'd only done that because of what Hazel had done to him. "Elliot had so much life ahead of him too."

She scoffed. "Playing video games? He was just like his mother. Living off his father's money. No ambition."

"You'd be surprised the money people can make playing games while others watch," you told her. "Some make millions."

"He wasn't," she assured you, eyes narrowing. She turned them back to Tim. "Anything else you need to know?"

"Plenty more," Tim said, "Starting with where you got concentrated arsenic."

She nearly smiled at him. "That's an interesting story, but a long one."

He gestured at her to go for it. "We have all day if necessary."

So she jumped into a story about how she found herself buying from black market dealers.

It was afternoon by the time you and Tim were done with her, by the time a prison guard was pulling her away from you both at the door where prisoners were dropped off.

On your way back to Tim's car you spotted Richard walking free, out of the chain link lined yard, a duffle bag over his shoulder. And Elliot was right there behind him, leaning against the fence, watching.

He must have felt you peering over at him because Elliot glanced up in your direction, and what you saw in his eyes surprised you. Getting justice must have calmed him because his expression was nothing like the one he'd worn either of the times he'd attacked you. It was like the madness had finally been lifted.

Strange how that sometimes worked.

You hesitantly gave him a curt nod and he gave you one back, disappearing immediately after, to God-only-knows where. Or maybe gods-only-know where.

You just knew that a subtle, insistent tension you hadn't really noticed was there before snapped and it seemed like the sunny day had become even brighter.

Elliot was gone.

x

That night Tim followed you back to your house, wanting to be there as you unpacked and settled back in, even though you'd assured him that Elliot had most definitely moved on.

That had eventually led you to asking him to stay for popcorn and a movie, to which he agreed to readily. It was almost ten o'clock when he got off the couch to leave.

"I'd better go," he said decidedly. "Getting late for a work night."

"I've been thinking," you told him.

"Oh?"

"About our agreement," you continued, standing up to give him a swift kiss on the mouth. "And I was thinking we should amend it."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "What were you thinking?"

"That we just do whatever feels right in the moment," you answered. "Within reason of course. We still have to be professional at work, of course. Even after we tell HR what's going on with us."

"So...no more slowing things down?"

"Technically we've already been in a relationship for thirteen months," you told him. "Just not a romantic kind. And we had our first date. Already have done plenty of cuddling..."

A subtle smile played on Tim's lips. "What are you suggesting, Psy?"

"You could stay here tonight," you replied, placing your hands on his suited chest. "You could show me what you'd have done that night if I hadn't taken lead. If you want."

He dived in to kiss you until you were both panting, until you were burning up inside. "I want," he confirmed, barely a whisper away from your mouth.

You grinned. "Then lead the way."

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[the-haunted-office]

Elaborating a little bit on the constant feeling of being watched in the Haunted Office.

Well.

You sort of are!

Sort of.

I say sort of because while there technically are two beings observing the entire Office at any given time, they are both also not observing the entire Office at any given time. And here's why:

It's simply not possible. The Office is too large. There are ten floors to the Office, plus a sprawling basement (not including the Mind Control Facility), and at least 600 employees who each had their own Office or cubicle. And then there are the meeting rooms, the employee lounges, the storage rooms, the closets, the maintenance room, and so on. There are literally hundreds of rooms in this building. It isn't possible to view all of them at once.

Cyrus himself is in the control room, which is a pretty small room that has just a cot in it, a couple of desks, filing cabinets, and then his multiple monitors where he views all the rooms in the Office, and his control panels and microphone that he uses to communicate through the speaker system throughout the Office. The monitors are set up in a way that view the rooms by floor, and then rotate through the rooms. However, some of the rooms are off limits - i.e. rooms that are occupied. Cyrus isn't monitoring the rooms people live in, like Thursday's room or Doomsday's room, or any room where any of their guests are staying. It's rude, and nobody wants that. He only monitors the rooms and hallways that nobody lives in. And it's impossible for him to have eyes on every space in the Office at any given time.

It's sort of the same with Dorian, even though it is the Office. Technically speaking, every space inside and outside of the building is its "eyes". It can see everything inside and outside of itself. It can't see inside of objects that are inside of it (i.e. a box sitting in a room - it would not be able to see inside of that box), but it can see everything inside of itself. But it can't see everything all at once. There is too much to keep track of, especially when there are things and creatures moving around inside and outside of it. It's like looking at a huge wide open field, and in that huge wide open field there are a bunch of marbles rolling around, and you are given a bunch of telescopes. You can only view the field and the marbles through the telescopes. So while technically you can see the field at any time, zoom in and zoom out, and you know the marbles are there, it's difficult to keep track of them and to keep track of more than one at the same time, even when you know there are a bunch of them out there rolling around, simply because of how your "eyes" work. Hopefully that made sense. >>

So yeah, while on one hand, you are constantly being "watched" while at the Office, there's also a pretty good chance you aren't due to the sheer hugeness of the Office and how small you are in comparison.

I still wouldn't want to be caught doing anything embarrassing in there, though. You never know when both Cyrus and Dorian might happen to look at you at the same time and call you out on it. :p

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

I’m having ideas again!

And perhaps yet another story.

Yay, more material to turn grey over (which isn’t a joke because I seriously pulled a grey hair out of me own head this morning) because when the feck am I actually gonna write this?!

TH Masterlist

Fancy me this;

A Coffee Shop/Bookshop AU w/ Modern!Alfie and it’s Hanukkah.

No one starts a business in Camden without the King’s permission. That is, The King of Camden; Alfie Solomons.

You first heard about this fearsome figure when you opened a secondhand bookshop in a particularly dangerous part of the borough.

Literally across from his bakery.

However, he never came to claim protection money. Neither did he ever drop by to bluntly ask what you thought you were doing, opening up shop in his territory. Being so bold as to start a business a stone’s throw from his.

All he did when you first crossed paths was resolutely enter, browse the shelves, pick up a book, and sit in the worn leather chair you put in the little reading book in the back.

He looked tired to the bone, circles beneath his eyes, complexion pale, even a bit sickly, and his beard kinda unkept. His cheekbones seemed carved out, like details in a marble statue.

There being no other customers, you ran upstairs to put the kettle on to make a cup of tea.

Two mugs of English breakfast in hand, you walked downstairs. Truth be told, you had to take a few deep breaths to steady yourself and muster the courage to approach the bear-like man, still fearsome despite the dainty pair of glasses on his nose.

“Tea, sir?” you asked, holding one of the mugs out to him.

“Is it on the ‘ouse?” he grumbled, although there was a hint of an amused smile hidden beneath his bushy whiskers.

“If it means I get to keep me shop,” you half-joked before giving him a well-meaning smile. “But also because a cup of tea can solve a lot. Exhaustion included.”

Little could you have expected he began to fall for you right then and there, enthralled by your gentle kindness.

“So you know who I am,” he purred.

“The King of Camden,” you answered much braver than you felt and sat down in the chair next to his.

“No.”

“No?” Puzzled, you looked at him. Surely you weren’t wrong. This burly man with tousled brown hair, eyes as blue as the sea at Margate, and rings to adorn every finger matched the description you had composed at the hand of local gossip perfectly.

“No, love. Right ‘ere, yeah, I’m no king.” He extended his hand, the beads of his bracelets softly rattling. “Only a man. Alfie Solomons.”

“Y/N L/N,” you responded and shook his hand.

Since then, for reasons unknown and never explained, he’s delivered freshly baked goods to your doorstep on Tuesday and Thursday.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for breakfast at his bakery: The Old Rum House Bakery.

Saturdays are for experiments in the kitchen and taste testing.

But Sundays, now, Sundays…

They’re for breakfast in the city.

Together.

It’s basically the only day in the week Alfie forces himself to take time off. You already had to drag him (somewhat literally) home after a concerned call from his assistant branch manager, Ollie. He’d worked himself to the bone again, living on rum and coffee.

However, it’s when you saw him collapse after going back to work too soon after a chemotherapy session he swore to himself he’d never put you through that again.

He wouldn’t make you cry again. Ever.

Now, here’s where we get to the real meat of the concept. Right, so…

Being Jewish, Alfie doesn’t celebrate Christmas. He celebrates Hanukkah, a holiday you’d only heard of until you met him.

Because he likes to celebrate it with you.

He tells you the history behind the holiday, what is celebrated and therefore means to him, lets you listen while he recites some of the Psalms or reads Scripture, and makes sure to light a candle together on each of the eight days.

Nevertheless, not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined you trying your damn best to make some classic Jewish treats to eat. Sure, they don’t taste like his Mum’s, but he loves them all the same.

Yet, it’s mostly the effort, the commitment and active participation in something personal to him yet foreign to you that touches him the most. You try to understand.

You try to see him.

And he wants you to.

For he is nothing but a simple (though complicated and scarred) man.

A humble servant to Camden’s secret Queen.

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @buttercup32sstuff @alikaheroes @vir-tual @ilovemanypeople @liliac-dreamer @zablife

[arscriptura]

Dear Rose

“I have known the body of my mother, sick and then dying.” —Roland Barthes

Let me begin again now that you're gone Ma if vou're reading this then you survived your life into this one if you're reading this then the bullet doesn't know us yet but I know Ma you can't read napalm fallen on your

schoolhouse at six & that was it they say a word is only what it signifies that's how I know the arrowhead in my back means I'm finally pretty a word like bullet hovers in an amber

afternoon on its way to meaning the book opens like a door but the only one you ever read was a coffin its hinges swung shut on lush descriptions of a brother I point to you to me today a Thursday I took a long walk alone it

didn't work kept stopping to touch my shadow just in case feeling is the only truth & there down there between thumb & forefinger an ant racing in circles then zigzags I wanted significance but think it was just the load he was bearing

that unhinged him: another ant curled & cold lifted on his shoulders they looked like a set of quotations missing speech it's said they can carry over 5,000 times their mass but it's often bread crumbs not brothers that get carried home but going too far

is to admit the day ends anywhere but here no no Mom this is your name I say pointing to Hồng on the birth certificate thin as dust Hồng I say which means rose I place your finger on a flower so familiar it feels synthetic red plastic petals dewed with glue I leave

it out of my poems I turn from its face—cliched oversize head frayed at the edges like something ruptured by a bullet I was born because you were starving but how can anything be found with only two hands

with only two hands you dumped a garbage bag of anchovies into the glass jar the day was harmless a breeze hovering in amber light above us gray New England branches swayed without touching to make fish sauce you said you must bear the scent of corpses salted & crushed a year in a jar tall

as a boy they dropped with slick thumps like bullets each word must stop somewhere—why not a yellow poet I put in the fish sauce I take out the fish sauce I dance on the line until I am the line they cross or cross out they nearly killed me

you said for being white with a toilet plunger you pushed the fish down sound of bones like gravel the violet vein on your wrist glistened your father was a white soldier I had amber hair you said they called me traitor called me ghost girl they smeared my face with cow shit

at the market to make me brown like you & your father the eyes glared from inside the jar they shot my brother you said looking down but away from the dead eyes my little brother if reading is to live in two worlds at once why

is he not here Ben said you can do anything in a poem so I stepped right out of it into this one to be entered is to be redefined the bullet achieves its name by pushing flesh into flesh I was struck by these words we say I was caught by this passage it moved right through opened

me up these eyes reading not yet healed shut but full of lead -en meaning which parts a red sea inside me sinew dusted to soft tissue my blood a borderless translation of errors in the reader's hands a gaping rose Hồng I say which also means

pink the shade every bullet meets before finding its truest self Calvino said human instinct is to laugh when someone falls the soldiers were cracking up as they fired your brother running his sky -blue shirt pink on the ground our evolution as hunters Calvino went on

the collapsed body a signal of meat thus hunger leads to lethal joy it's almost perfect you smiled your nose deep in the jar because the bullet makes you real by making you less which is perfect in poems the text amplified by murder

-ous deletions leads to inevitable art the pristine prisoner in his marble coffin the length of a fish a timeline across the page to document days the dead a measurement of living distance the corpse blooming

as it decays Pink Rose Hồng Mom are you reading this dear reader are you my mom yet I cannot find her without you this place I've made you can't enter within months their meat will melt into brown mucus rot almost -sauce the linear fish-spine dissolved

by time at last pungent scent of ghosts you said you named me after a body of water ’cause it's the largest thing you knew after god I stare at the silvered layers the shadowed line between two pressed fish is a finger in the dark gently remembered in the dark his finger

on my lips Ma his shhh your friend the man watching me while you worked the late shift in the Timex clock factory why am I thinking this now the gasped throats mottled pocked fins gently the door its blade of amber light widening as it opened shhh it sounds like an animal

being drowned as you churned the jar your yellow-white arms pink fish guts foaming up gently you must remember gently the man he's in the ’90s still his face a black rose closing do you know what it's like my boy my boy you said sweating above the jar

to be the only one hated the only one the white enemy of your own country your own face the trees they were roaring above us red leaves leaving little cuts in the sky gently I touched your elbow the fish swirling in their gone merry-go-round

sightless eyes no no Ma I said holding my breath I don't know what it's like & turned my head up toward the sun which brightly cancels if you're reading this then I survived my life into yours you who told your brother you were hungry

so he stole a roasted chicken so he tucked it under his sky -blue shirt & it's not your fault reader you had to work you had to get up in the blood-blue dawn to warm up your car you who held instant coffee with both hands

ate your lunch of Wonder Bread dipped in condensed milk in the parking lot alone you bought me pencils reader I could not speak so I wrote myself into silence where I stood waiting for you Ma to read me do you read me now do you copy mayday mayday you who dreamed of dipping shreds of chicken

into fish sauce as you hid in the caves above your village you white devil girl starving ghost but I shouldn't have been so hungry you said looking up at the leaves vermilion through the brother -blue sky I hated my hunger the veins on your fists the jar all amber crush

empty as a word -less mind stop writing about your mother they said but I can never take out the rose it blooms back as my own pink mouth how can I tell you this when you're always to the right of meaning

as it pushes you further into white space how can I say the hole in your brother's back is not a part of your brother but your brother aparted who is still somewhere running because I wrote it in the present tense the bullet held just behind his death an insect

trapped in amber the charred chicken clutched to his chest dust rising from sandals as he sprints toward the future where you're waiting by the rain -warped window wet footsteps on Risley Rd but dear reader it's only your son coming home

again after school after the bullies put his face in brown dirt what if I said the fastest finger pointing to you Ma is me would you look away I point to you no no I went right through you left a pink rose blazing in the middle of the hospital

in Sài Gòn reader who cannot read or write you wrote a son into the world with no words but a syllable so much like a bullet its heat fills you today a Thursday (ours not Vallejo's) partly

cloudy a little wind I kneel to write our names on the sidewalk & wait for the letters to signal a future an arrow pointing to a way out I stare & stare until it grows too dark to

read the ant & his brother long home by now night flooding the concrete black my arms dim as incomplete sentences reader I’ve plagiarized my life to give you the best of me & these words these

insects anchovies bullets salvaged & exiled by art Ma my art these corpses I lay side by side on the page to tell you our present tense was not too late

—Ocean Vuong

[21astor]

Portland’s NW Neighborhoods Are Quickly Becoming the Most Exciting Areas in PDX!

Incredibly Fun Things to Do

To say that the Northwest neighborhoods are a vibrant area is a bit of an understatement. At any given time, Portlanders have their pick of marvelous parks, entertainment venues, and cultural events. Here are a few of the local faves:

Jamison Park

This park boasts a cool fountain, tidal pool, and outdoor art gallery.

McMenamin’s Crystal Ballroom

This historic venue, which is about five minutes from our nob hill apartments, showcases some of the biggest music acts as well as themed dance parties.

First Thursdays

On the first Thursday of every month, PDX-ers enjoy an awesome gallery walk featuring art exhibits, wine, and live music.

The Brody Theater

A mecca of improv comedy, The Brody Theater offers up a good time with shows, open mics, and classes.

Amazing Places to Eat, Drink and Shop

BridgePort Brewing

A Portland original, BridgePort crafts brews and pub bites with deliciously fresh and locally-sourced ingredients.

Powell’s City of Books

A major benefit of living in Northwest District/Nob Hill zone is being super close to world-famous Powell’s. With millions of new and used books in their inventory, it’s a bibliophile’s paradise.

Marrakesh

Marrakesh is not just about the exceptional Moroccan fare. It also delights diners with talented belly dancers.

Java Hound Coffee Bar

Java Hound welcomes both humans and canines alike with scrumptious coffee, tea, pastries, and puppuccinos (dog treats floating in goat’s milk).

Incredible Urban Innovations

Portland has done a brilliant job of keeping up with economic growth and an increase in population. One example of this is the Portland Streetcar. No doubt the overall public transportation system in PDX is terrific, but the Streetcar is uniquely inventive for several reasons:

It was the country’s first modern streetcar

It’s an award-winning system

It’s easily accessible and links multiple Portland districts (yes, including Pearl)

It’s a cinch to use for PDX-ers and out-of-towners alike

It ingeniously utilizes unused railyards

It serves as a model for other cities

One of the Top Luxury Apartments in Portland

The Residences

Our 1 Bedroom luxury apartments Portland and 2 Bedroom luxury apartments Portland are designed to be spacious and contemporary with a high-end aesthetic. Units include tall ceilings, large windows, wrap-around kitchens, quartz Carrara countertops, stainless steel appliances, porcelain enamel tubs and showers, plenty of closet space, and serene color palettes.

Amenities

We understand what matters to Portlanders. Every day, our residents benefit from amenities like bike storage and maintenance spaces, a pet washing station, in-building parking, concierge and package receptions services, reserved storage, and dry-cleaning pick-up and drop-off lockers.

The Building

In order to rise above other luxury apartments close to Nob Hill Portland, we knew we had to impeccably blend modernity and beauty with environmental consciousness. The result — a LEED-certified, highly efficient building with features such as a gorgeous dark-red brick exterior, Neoclassical bay projections, and a lobby with Statuary Carrara Marble and a 24K white gold Bisazza mosaic.

The Northwest District has certainly earned its spot as one of the top places to live in Portland. (It’s no wonder why it was named one of the coolest neighborhoods in the world.) We’re ecstatic that this dynamic community has allowed us to provide our residents with a living experience that is unmatched by any other luxury apartments in PDX. But, you don’t just have to take our word for it. Why not come check it all out for yourself?

Connect with us to find out more about living in 21 Astor’s incredible PDX apartments!

[serialfirstdater]

London #3: The Older Australian Product Manager

That first Thursday Dating event pulled a lot of dating and non-dating entries for me. This one was no exception.

I didn't mention this before but the 30+ event was held at a rooftop bar at the NYX Hotel in Holborn. Once I befriended a fellow Asian woman, we prepped ourselves to be bombarded with men left, right, and center.

The Australian Product Manager was one of the many men who approached me and locked me into a conversation. He was older, I was guessing at least in his 40s though a small part of me hoped he was in his late 30s. I later asked my new friend what she thought and she said he was definitely in his 40s, being a 41-year-old woman herself.

He kept talking at me for a good half hour and wouldn't let off. He continuously cracked jokes and teased me, saying things like, "You must be a rebel!" and probably caused trouble wherever I went. It really felt like an older man trying to connect with someone younger, in an attempt to flirt. It wasn't my vibe because his joking behaviour did not resonate with me.

However, I ended up giving him my number anyway when he asked. Since I was new to the London dating scene, I wanted to be as open-minded as possible. Plus, I wanted to see how an older man would try to impress someone much younger. Why else should I go out with someone much older than me?

He sent me a text a couple of days after the event. Whenever he wanted to pick the conversation up after it shortly died, he would say, "I have a feeling you're causing trouble somewhere." And he wrote this twice within two to three days. It was a bit cringe.

He finally asked to meet. He told me to meet him outside Bank Station on a Thursday after work hours. I agreed, even though I wasn't all too excited. However, once I commit, I will follow through.

That day, I had four different sublet viewings all across London to find a new place to live. Since I did not want to overstay my welcome at my new friend's place who graciously allowed me to crash when I had to escape my horrible AirBnB.

By the time I headed to the date, I had taken the wrong train at one point because I was running all over and was slightly frazzled. I had to ask an English businessman how to get to Bank Station from where we were on the Tube. He was quite helpful and gave a chuckle as I tried to understand the many train lines and how they intersected.

When I got to Bank Station, I went above ground and stood around by the intersection. I told the Australian Product Manager that my phone was about to die before I headed to central London. So he told me he would try to find me above ground once I arrived.

My eyes scoured the streets, with pedestrians and bikers weaving all over. This was where all the major banks resided, hence the station's name. Each building was massive, looming over with its marble and white-grey presence. Yet, the street was set up quite prettily because of the historical flair.

After about five minutes, the Australian Product Manager spotted me. He was sitting beneath a giant statue of an important British figure, that I am not bothered to research for this entry. He jumped up from his spot and strolled over to me from across the street.

We exchanged our hellos and he pointed in the direction where we should be walking. We started our small talk as I followed him.

He took me to the riverside with about two or three big bars next to each other. But, there was also a huge after-work crowd because Thursday is the new Friday in London. Everyone was drinking by the river and in suits, unwinding after a long day at work. I know it's common to have first dates at pubs in London, but 1) he was Aussie and 2) did he not want to impress me?

He asked me what drink I wanted, and I told him to surprise me since I love cocktails. I went to the washroom and when I returned, he handed me an Aperol Spritz. I was disappointed he gave me something so basic. I usually like to try new drinks so I wanted to see if he could impress me with some of his knowledge (or at least ask the bartender what was good).

We found an empty spot on the ledge by the river, still surrounded by people but away from the main after-work crowd. He kept trying to steer the conversation in the direction of flirtation with his Aussie banter, however, I kept it professional. I decided to network-zoned him as I couldn't see myself being someone that much older.

Based on our conversation and my rough calculation, he was well into his late 40s, maybe even early 50s. It felt like he could be my Vice President or senior manager at work. Age-gap dating is fine, but it is not my cup of tea.

I thought he understood where he stood in my eyes because I kept the conversation revolving around work and my skill set. I wanted to see if he could provide valuable insights as someone older. He gave me some tips but they were generic as generic can be.

When he asked if I wanted to go somewhere else, I told him I was good staying there. Which was to signal I was not interested.

We spent about 2.5-3 hours chatting (while I put on my best PR professional side the entire time) before parting ways. I thought that was the end of that. But he tried messaging me a couple of days later. I gave him a slow response and thumbs up his message, to indicate I was no longer interested in trying to talk to him if he wasn't gonna at least offer me a potential job contact.

[marleylofts]

Marley Lofts in Los Angeles, CA

Do you have any idea about the rental apartment named Marley Lofts? The aforementioned apartment complex has attracted many people nowadays. Many trendsetters also mention its distinct beauty. Regarding the lavish living spaces in the city, particularly two bedroom apartments in historic Core District these days, Marley Lofts is always obliging. In addition, they are pet friendly. As such, your four-legged friends can roam around the neighborhood. Apart from that, penthouse area is a place where you can enjoy private rooftop patios and unique mezzanines there. Lastly, you can also enjoy such features with elegant bathrooms and marble vanity cabinets. Remarkable, isn’t it?

Los Angeles, CA

Currently, any engaging varied technique is vital to prepare a travel itinerary. If you’re creating one now, you can check out these Eventbrite posts. Here are examples. First, there will be Red Carpet Awards Afterparty with top celebs, media, artists this coming Sunday, June 30, 2024, at around 9:00 PM at Academy LA. Second, the free event named MSIA Global Ministers Meeting-Conference of Celebration is scheduled on Sunday, June 30, 2024, at around 10:00 AM at Peace Awareness Labyrinth. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the Destroy Los Angeles event on Wednesday, July 3, 2024, at around 9:00 PM at Catch One.

Walt Disney Concert Hall

Have you been to Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, CA lately? Nowadays, many people choose the place for exploration and enjoying entertainment. If you want to enjoy concerts, it’s one of the best places to visit at present. Besides, the Walt Disney Concert Hall at 111 South Grand Avenue in downtown Los Angeles, California, is the fourth hall of the Los Angeles Music Center and was designed by Frank Gehry. Aside from that, it was opened on October 23, 2003. Bounded by Hope Street, Grand Avenue, and 1st and 2nd Streets, it seats 2,265 people and serves, among other purposes, as the home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic orchestra and the Los Angeles Master Chorale.

Summer solstice 2024 is here, which means so is summer

There are many thrilling news reports in Los Angeles, CA. In a recent news article, the topic was about summer solstice. Reportedly, the first day of summer is here. June 20 marks the first day of the summer solstice in the Northern Hemisphere this year. This is based on the Farmer’s Almanac. Moreover, on Thursday will be the earliest start to summer in the past 228 years. In line with that, the last time the summer solstice landed on June 20 was on June 20, 1796, when George Washington was president. In addition, the solstice will occur at 4:51 p.m. ET. This time of year, often coincides with summer breaks, strawberries, and, of course, Stonehenge. By the way, the word "solstice" comes from two Latin words: sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still) according to the Almanac.

Link to maps

Walt Disney Concert Hall 111 S Grand Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90012, United States Head northwest on W 2nd St toward S Hope St 17 sec (220 ft) Take Grand Lower to 4th St 1 min (0.3 mi) Follow 4th St and S Spring St to W 6th St 4 min (0.6 mi) Marley Lofts 548 S Spring St #814, Los Angeles, CA 90013, United States

[cool-in-marley-lofts]

Marley Lofts in Los Angeles, CA

Are you familiar with the rental apartment named Marley Lofts? There are many people who want to research about the apartment complex. After all, the fame of the said real estate property is notable. When it comes to lavish living spaces in the city, especially two bedroom apartments in historic Core District at present, Marley Lofts is always accommodating. Aside from that, they are pet friendly, so your four-legged friends can roam around the neighborhood. Aside from that, penthouse area is a place where you can enjoy private rooftop patios and unique mezzanines there. At the same time, you can all enjoy such features with elegant bathrooms and marble vanity cabinets.

Los Angeles, CA

At present, engaging varied techniques is essential to prepare a travel itinerary. If you’re creating one now, you can check out these Eventbrite posts. First, there will be Lake Balboa / Van Nuys Psychic & Healing Arts Fair this coming Saturday, March 16, 2024, at around 10:00 AM at Airtel Plaza Hotel. Second, the Los Angeles Job Fair - Los Angeles Career Fair is scheduled on Thursday, March 21, 2024, at around 11:30 AM at Hilton Los Angeles Airport. Lastly, you can also opt to attend the Public Symposium on AI and IP on Wednesday, March 27, 2024, at around 10:00 AM at Loyola Law School, Los Angeles.

Walt Disney Concert Hall

Have you visited Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, CA recently? Currently, many people choose the place for a travel adventure. If you want to enjoy concerts, it’s one of the best places to visit these days. Moreover, the Walt Disney Concert Hall at 111 South Grand Avenue in downtown Los Angeles, California, is the fourth hall of the Los Angeles Music Center and was designed by Frank Gehry. Then, it was opened on October 23, 2003. Bounded by Hope Street, Grand Avenue, and 1st and 2nd Streets, it seats 2,265 people and serves, among other purposes, as the home of the Los Angeles Philharmonic orchestra and the Los Angeles Master Chorale.

Binnington makes 40 saves and St. Louis Blues beat Los Angeles Kings 3-1

There are many thrilling news reports in Los Angeles, CA. In a recent news article, the topic was about sports. Reportedly, Jordan Binnington made 40 saves and the St. Louis Blues beat the Los Angeles Kings 3-1 on Wednesday night in a key game in the race for the final wild-card spot in the Western Conference. Aside from that, it was also reported that Alexey Toropchenko, Jake Neighbours and Brandon Saad scored for the Blues, who kicked off a four-game home stand. Binnington shared that, "I think we've done a good job this year as a group, playing the right way and playing tight in our own zone. I think it's been a lot better, and it's fun to play back there and I'm enjoying it.”

Link to maps

Walt Disney Concert Hall 111 S Grand Ave, Los Angeles, CA 90012, United States Head southeast on W 2nd St toward S Grand Ave 184 ft Turn right at the 1st cross street onto S Grand Ave 0.5 mi Turn left after Starbucks (on the left) 0.3 mi Marley Lofts 548 S Spring St #814, Los Angeles, CA 90013, United States

[brookston]

Holidays 12.7

Holidays

Armed Forces Flag Day (India)

Blue Marble Day

Christmas Jumper Day (UK)

Cypress Tree Day (French Republic)

Dia de las Velitas (Day of the Little Candles; Colombia)

Enlightenment Day

Ferry Floss Day (UK)

Fetes de l’Escalade (Scaling or Climbing Day; Switzerland)

Hang a Wreath Day

Heavy Snow Day (Chinese Farmer’s Calendar)

Human Rights Day (Kiribati)

International Civil Aviation Day (UN)

Letter Writing Day

Memorial Day (East Timor)

National Day (Myanmar)

National FAFO Day

National Fire Safety Day

National Heroes’ Day (East Timor)

National Illinois Day

National Joy Day

National Judith Day

National Letter Writing Day

National Rina Day

National Slime Day

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day

Spider-Woman Day

Spitak Remembrance Day (Armenia)

Students’ Day (Iran)

World Kamishibai Day

World TTTS Awareness Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Marshmallow Peeps Day

National Cotton Candy Day [original date, moved to 6.11; also 7.31]

National Prosciutto Day

1st Thursday in December

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

Lover's Fair (Arlon, Belgium) [1st Thursday]

Independence Days

Delaware Statehood Day (#1; 1787)

Farrar Republic (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Fraughtia (Declared; 2012) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Aemilianus (Greek Church)

Ambrose of Milan (Christian; Saint) [Italy]

Bhairava Ashtami (Indian Goddess of Soma) [8th Lunar Day of Kartik]

Bradley (Positivist; Saint)

Bruma II (Pagan)

Eve of the Immaculate Conception

Fara (Christian; Saint)

Feast of All Monsters (Church of the SubGenius)

Festival of Primordial Beings

Flag Day (India)

Flag Land Base Day (Scientology)

Gian Lorenzo Bernini (Artology)

Haloia of Demeter (Pagan)

Hanukkah (Judaism) [begins at sundown]

Holiday from Death Day (Pastafarian)

Maria Giuseppa Rossello (Christian; Saint)

Quema del Diablo (Burning of the Devil; Guatemala)

Rosita (Muppetism)

Sabinus of Spoleto (Christian; Saint)

Still Not Dead Day (Pastafarian)

Stuart Davis (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 23 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [23 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [23 of 24]

Historically Unlucky Day [11 of 11]

Historically Bad Day (Cicero assassinated, Pearl Harbor attack & 4 other tragedies) [11 of 11]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 56 of 60)

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [56 of 60]

Premieres

Abbott Elementary (TV Series; 2012)

Anastasia: The Mystery of Anna (TV Mini-Series; 1986)

Bad Day at Flat Rocky or A Record in Bullwinkle’s Blot (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S6, Ep. 326; 1964)

The Bells of St. Mary’s (Film; 1945)

Brokeback Mountain (Film; 2005)

Canine Patrol (Disney Cartoon; 1945)

Dominique, by The Singing Nun (Song; 1963)

Edward Scissorhands (Film; 1990)

Frosty the Snowman (Animated TV Special; 1969)

The Golden Compass (Film; 2007)

The Gondoliers, by Gilbert & Sullivan (Comic Opera; 1889)

The Grifters (Film; 1990)

Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen (Song; 1984)

Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture, by Johan Huizinga (Science Book; 1938)

I’m Not There (Film; 2007)

Jamboree (Rock & Roll Film; 1957)

Kung Fu Fighting, by Carl Douglas (Song; 1974)

The Librarians (TV Series; 2014)

The Long Tomorrow, by Leigh Brackett (Novel; 1955)

Mary Queen of Scots (Film; 2018)

New Kin in Town, by The Eagles (Song; 1976)

Ocean’s Eleven (Film; 2001)

Resign Your Fate to a 52nd State or Moosylvania (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S6, Ep. 325; 1964)

Rock! Rock! Rock! (Rock & Roll Film; 1956)

Rosemary, played live by the Gratefull Dead (Song; 1968) [Only Time It’s Played Live]

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay, recorded by Otis Redding (Song; 1967)

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (Film; 1979)

2010: The Year We Make Contact (Film; 1984)

Wild Life, by Paul McCartney & Wings (Album; 1971)

The World’s Fastest Indian (Film; 2005)

Today’s Name Days

Ambrosius, Benedikte (Austria)

Ambrozije, Sabina, Urban (Croatia)

Ambrož (Czech Republic)

Agathon (Denmark)

Piine, Sabiine (Estonia)

Sampsa (Finland)

Ambroise (France)

Ambros, Benedikte, Farah (Germany)

Amvrosios (Greece)

Ambrus (Hungary)

Ambrogio (Italy)

Anta, Antonija, Dzirkstīte, Tonija (Latvia)

Ambraziejus, Daugardas, Tautė (Lithuania)

Hallfrid, Hallstein (Norway)

Agaton, Ambroży, Marcin, Ninomysł (Poland)

Filofteia (Romania)

Ekaterina (Russia)

Ambróz (Slovakia)

Ambrosio (Spain)

Angela, Angelika (Sweden)

Ambrose (Ukraine)

Ambrose, Ambrosine, Jasmin, Jasmine, Jazlyn, Jazmin, Jazmine, Yasmeen, Yasmin, Yasmine, Yazmin (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 341 of 2024; 24 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 49 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Ruis (Elder) [Day 10 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Gui-Hai), Day 25 (Ji-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 24 Kislev 5784

Islamic: 24 Jumada I 1445

J Cal: 11 Zima; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 24 November 2023

Moon: 27%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 5 Bichat (12th Month) [Bradley]

Runic Half Month: Is (Stasis) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 75 of 89)

Zodiac: Sagittarius (Day 16 of 30)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 12.7

Holidays

Armed Forces Flag Day (India)

Blue Marble Day

Christmas Jumper Day (UK)

Cypress Tree Day (French Republic)

Dia de las Velitas (Day of the Little Candles; Colombia)

Enlightenment Day

Ferry Floss Day (UK)

Fetes de l’Escalade (Scaling or Climbing Day; Switzerland)

Hang a Wreath Day

Heavy Snow Day (Chinese Farmer’s Calendar)

Human Rights Day (Kiribati)

International Civil Aviation Day (UN)

Letter Writing Day

Memorial Day (East Timor)

National Day (Myanmar)

National FAFO Day

National Fire Safety Day

National Heroes’ Day (East Timor)

National Illinois Day

National Joy Day

National Judith Day

National Letter Writing Day

National Rina Day

National Slime Day

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day

Spider-Woman Day

Spitak Remembrance Day (Armenia)

Students’ Day (Iran)

World Kamishibai Day

World TTTS Awareness Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Marshmallow Peeps Day

National Cotton Candy Day [original date, moved to 6.11; also 7.31]

National Prosciutto Day

1st Thursday in December

Kid Lit Art Postcard Day [1st Thursday]

Lover's Fair (Arlon, Belgium) [1st Thursday]

Independence Days

Delaware Statehood Day (#1; 1787)

Farrar Republic (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Fraughtia (Declared; 2012) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Aemilianus (Greek Church)

Ambrose of Milan (Christian; Saint) [Italy]

Bhairava Ashtami (Indian Goddess of Soma) [8th Lunar Day of Kartik]

Bradley (Positivist; Saint)

Bruma II (Pagan)

Eve of the Immaculate Conception

Fara (Christian; Saint)

Feast of All Monsters (Church of the SubGenius)

Festival of Primordial Beings

Flag Day (India)

Flag Land Base Day (Scientology)

Gian Lorenzo Bernini (Artology)

Haloia of Demeter (Pagan)

Hanukkah (Judaism) [begins at sundown]

Holiday from Death Day (Pastafarian)

Maria Giuseppa Rossello (Christian; Saint)

Quema del Diablo (Burning of the Devil; Guatemala)

Rosita (Muppetism)

Sabinus of Spoleto (Christian; Saint)

Still Not Dead Day (Pastafarian)

Stuart Davis (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Butsumetsu (仏滅 Japan) [Unlucky all day.]

Dismal Day (Unlucky or Evil Day; Medieval Europe; 23 of 24)

Egyptian Day (Unlucky Day; Middle Ages Europe) [23 of 24]

Fatal Day (Pagan) [23 of 24]

Historically Unlucky Day [11 of 11]

Historically Bad Day (Cicero assassinated, Pearl Harbor attack & 4 other tragedies) [11 of 11]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 56 of 60)

Very Unlucky Day (Grafton’s Manual of 1565) [56 of 60]

Premieres

Abbott Elementary (TV Series; 2012)

Anastasia: The Mystery of Anna (TV Mini-Series; 1986)

Bad Day at Flat Rocky or A Record in Bullwinkle’s Blot (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S6, Ep. 326; 1964)

The Bells of St. Mary’s (Film; 1945)

Brokeback Mountain (Film; 2005)

Canine Patrol (Disney Cartoon; 1945)

Dominique, by The Singing Nun (Song; 1963)

Edward Scissorhands (Film; 1990)

Frosty the Snowman (Animated TV Special; 1969)

The Golden Compass (Film; 2007)

The Gondoliers, by Gilbert & Sullivan (Comic Opera; 1889)

The Grifters (Film; 1990)

Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen (Song; 1984)

Homo Ludens: A Study of the Play Element in Culture, by Johan Huizinga (Science Book; 1938)

I’m Not There (Film; 2007)

Jamboree (Rock & Roll Film; 1957)

Kung Fu Fighting, by Carl Douglas (Song; 1974)

The Librarians (TV Series; 2014)

The Long Tomorrow, by Leigh Brackett (Novel; 1955)

Mary Queen of Scots (Film; 2018)

New Kin in Town, by The Eagles (Song; 1976)

Ocean’s Eleven (Film; 2001)

Resign Your Fate to a 52nd State or Moosylvania (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S6, Ep. 325; 1964)

Rock! Rock! Rock! (Rock & Roll Film; 1956)

Rosemary, played live by the Gratefull Dead (Song; 1968) [Only Time It’s Played Live]

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay, recorded by Otis Redding (Song; 1967)

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (Film; 1979)

2010: The Year We Make Contact (Film; 1984)

Wild Life, by Paul McCartney & Wings (Album; 1971)

The World’s Fastest Indian (Film; 2005)

Today’s Name Days

Ambrosius, Benedikte (Austria)

Ambrozije, Sabina, Urban (Croatia)

Ambrož (Czech Republic)

Agathon (Denmark)

Piine, Sabiine (Estonia)

Sampsa (Finland)

Ambroise (France)

Ambros, Benedikte, Farah (Germany)

Amvrosios (Greece)

Ambrus (Hungary)

Ambrogio (Italy)

Anta, Antonija, Dzirkstīte, Tonija (Latvia)

Ambraziejus, Daugardas, Tautė (Lithuania)

Hallfrid, Hallstein (Norway)

Agaton, Ambroży, Marcin, Ninomysł (Poland)

Filofteia (Romania)

Ekaterina (Russia)

Ambróz (Slovakia)

Ambrosio (Spain)

Angela, Angelika (Sweden)

Ambrose (Ukraine)

Ambrose, Ambrosine, Jasmin, Jasmine, Jazlyn, Jazmin, Jazmine, Yasmeen, Yasmin, Yasmine, Yazmin (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 341 of 2024; 24 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of week 49 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Ruis (Elder) [Day 10 of 28]

Chinese: Month 10 (Gui-Hai), Day 25 (Ji-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 24 Kislev 5784

Islamic: 24 Jumada I 1445

J Cal: 11 Zima; Foursday [11 of 30]

Julian: 24 November 2023

Moon: 27%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 5 Bichat (12th Month) [Bradley]

Runic Half Month: Is (Stasis) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn (Day 75 of 89)

Zodiac: Sagittarius (Day 16 of 30)

[cool-in-manchaca-tx]

Villae ATX - Luxury Rental Homes in Manchaca, TX

Let’s talk about the best townhomes rental nowadays. Interestingly, Villae ATX - Luxury Rental Homes is an amazing townhome communities near Manchaca these days. If you’re planning to upgrade your lifestyle, you can visit their website. At Villae, they believe that life should be easy and worry-free. It’s the reason they offer an onsite maintenance package that includes lawn care for all of their homes. Since they offer farmhouse design for their property, you can rent an amazing townhome there. In addition, their modern farmhouse-style residences offer a spacious and stylish living experience. With that, you can enjoy a posh lifestyle in a beautiful place.

Manchaca, TX

There are many people who want to visit Manchaca, TX in the near future. If you’re one of them, you look for pre-scheduled events in the said place. With that, Eventbrite is one of the most popular sources of information. First, there will be Austin Big Business, Tech & Entrepreneur Professional Networking Soiree this coming Monday, August 21, at around 6:00 PM, at The Dogwood Rock Rose. Besides, the Jimbo of RuPaul's Drag Race All Stars is scheduled on Thursday, August 24, 2023, at around 9:30PM at Oilcan Harry’s. Lastly, you can also attend the Yoi Toki: A Futurefunk/Vaporwave Party [Austin Debut] this coming Saturday, September 2, 2023, at around 9:00 PM at Parish.

Zilker Metropolitan Park in Manchaca, TX

Zilker Metropolitan Park in Manchaca, TX is famous. Many tourists go there from time to time. Nowadays, it’s also a splendid place for sightseeing. Zilker Metropolitan Park is a recreational area in south Austin, Texas. It is specifically situated at the juncture of Barton Creek and the Colorado River that comprises over 350 acres of publicly owned land. In addition, it is named after its benefactor, Andrew Jackson Zilker, who donated the land to the city in 1917. Besides, the land was developed into a park during the Great Depression in the 1930s. At present, the park serves as a hub for many recreational activities.

Total eclipse traffic drives some Texas schools to cancel class

There are many thought-provoking news reports in Manchaca, TX nowadays. In a recent news article, the topic was about total eclipse that was the reason for cancelled classes. Reportedly, the Texas total solar eclipse happened on April 8, 2023. In that case, Texas school districts prepared for it as early as possible. While many districts planned to host special events for their students, others cancelled classes due to the expected onslaught of tourists. Megan Hamilton, district communications specialist with Marble Falls ISD stated that, “It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for our students.” The district is located in Burnet County.

Link to maps

Zilker Metropolitan Park Austin, TX 78746, United States Get on I-35 S from Barton Springs Rd and W Riverside Dr 13 min (3.8 mi) Follow I-35 S to S I-35 Frontage Rd. Take exit 225 from I-35 S 7 min (7.4 mi) Follow S I-35 Frontage Rd, Farm to Market 1626 W and Old San Antonio Rd to Anacua Loop 3 min (1.2 mi) Villae ATX - Luxury Rental Homes 11410 Old San Antonio Rd, Manchaca, TX 78652, USA

[astridstorm]

Easter Sunday 2023

For an audio version of this sermon, click here.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is Risen Indeed, alleluia.

Good morning on this glorious spring Easter Day. It's always so nice to see your faces, parishioners, friends, and family, people from afar. If you’re visiting for the first time, a special welcome to you. After the service we have a coffee hour and I hope you'll join us for that, and also come back. This is a great parish, and a great time to be part of it.  

Today, we celebrate our happiest day, the very reason we exist, as a church, and as Christians, Easter Day. It happens to fall, this year, on the same day as the feast of someone in our calendar of saints that you may or may not have heard of. His name is Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Now, technically all Sundays and especially Easter Sunday override lesser commemorations like saints’ days. But I always check the calendar for interesting convergences like this, to see what they might teach us. 

Bonhoeffer was a German pastor and theologian who was part of the resistance to the Nazis. He began speaking out in the early 1930s, and soon became part of an organized resistance movement. Many of its members were arrested and put into prison camps. Some survived; some did not. Bonhoeffer was executed just months before the war ended in 1945. Today his feast is honored each year on April 9 by churches all over the world. 

He also made a visit right here to Scarsdale, in 1941, and spoke at the Greenville Community church just over the hill, on Ardsley Rd. A week from now they’ll be hosting a symposium on the 75th anniversary of that visit (delayed because of Covid). 

Many here also know that the local Baptist Church, Scarsdale Baptist (just down Popham Rd towards the village), once hosted Dr. Martin Luther King. We, many of us, including St. James, have incredible stories to tell of times when our churches have stood on the right side of history. 

The coincidence of Bonhoeffer’s feast with Easter Day is meaningful. Because his life modeled the central truth of Easter: that to get to today, with its trumpets and flowers and joy; to reach the fullness of what we’re called to be by God, we have to first pass through Good Friday, and the cross. There is no other way. Struggle and freedom, death and resurrection--are inextricably bound together. 

Some of you were able this past week to spend time here walking through the last days of Jesus’ life, which we act out liturgically--and have done for almost 2000 years. On Thursday we gathered to remember the night Jesus was betrayed by one of his disciples, then taken away by the Roman guards. That service ended with one of the most striking moments in the church year, the stripping of the altar where we removed everything--every candle, cross, even the linens and kneelers from the high altar and chancel around it. The cold marble altar and its bleak surroundings recall a tomb. 

On Friday, many came back to hear St. John’s Passion sung, in which was told the final hours of Jesus at his trial, and his death on the cross. We consumed the remaining sacrament, and extinguished the candle signifying Christ’s presence.

Easter doesn’t come out of the blue. It follows a process of pain and death. It’s hard won. And I wonder, looking each of us at our lives, and the lives of our loved ones, and of the institutions and societies we belong to: If we’re not engaged in some struggle, are we claiming the fullness of life that was promised us that first Easter morning? 

Struggle, even death--Big D, but also small “d” death as in the the things that have to die to free us up for new ways, new friendships, new patterns of thinking and living, new life--struggle and death, far from being signs something is heading in the wrong direction, may well be signs they’re going in the right direction. That a fuller life lies ahead, if we can just pass through and get to the other side.

We English speakers are among the few who call this day “Easter,” which actually (I didn’t know this until this year) derives from the name of an old pre-Christian pagan goddess Aestre. The majority of the Christian world uses a word for today that comes from the Hebrew festival underlying our celebration: Pesach, Passover. So Greek Christians call today Pascha, the French Paques, Spanish Pascua, in Dutch Pasen, in Swedish Pask. And so on. We’re the odd ones out. And so we miss the sense of it being a passing through trial to get to freedom. Passing through death, to get to life.

So What does an Easter life look like for you, a life “fully alive”? What must you overcome, pass through, to get there? Christ, and so many of the saints (like Bonhoeffer) made better lives and worlds by taking this Easter journey. The journey to which God calls us every year, all over again, so that one of these times, or once again, we’ll stand up and claim our life in Christ, the life (to quote St. Paul) that really is life.