#tim seeing his older brother + ex hooking up

[wrdn-tabris]

i think the only like. dc shi i have between two characters is jaysteph FBDSK mostly i think they could just b very fun but either romantic or platonic i really think they could have a fun friendship

[wardenparker]

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

���What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

[a-simple-complexity]

Things about the creepypasta improv thing my close friend and I have been doing since 4th or 5th grade (maybe longer):

- My character doesn't really have a cp name yet but has been around for 401 years

- My character, when not at the mansion, is roomies with JTK (and he steals cheese its)

- Vivian's (the close friend) character is close to Slenderman and has a older sister bond with Sally

- Aside from the Jeff The Cheeze Itz Snatcher gag we have more running gags

- Such as Masky locking Toby in the closet when he's annoying only to turn around and see Toby standing there.... MENACINGLY (lol)

- LJ punts Mr Widemouth across the mansion weekly

- EJ is no longer allowed to cook for others after the barbeque of 2017. We miss you, Butler Bill

- Tuesdays and Thursdays Viv's character takes pets and children out the mansion for a playdate while everyone else has some fun

- Viv's Hidden Stash of Tuna TM

- My Hidden Stash of Vodka and Rum TM

- My character might have a problem but then again immortals aren't really affected by alcohol like most mortals are

- Speaking about my character: Holy. Pets.

- They have a bunch of guard dogs (despite them all being guard dogs they are pampered like you wouldn't believe)

- Pastas respect COVID stuff. Slender ordered everyone to scatter until it's mellowed out alot. Slender caught it at some point. They say get the vaccine and wear ya damn mask.

- There's a "Community Garden". It's just a few pitcher plants, some Butterworts, a killer cow plant (courtesy of Ben pulling some strings), a small patch of wither roses (courtesy of Herobrine), and a oran berry plant (courtesy of a few poke-pastas), rose bushes, etc

- Holidays are fun too

- Christmas time is filled with my character and Viv's taking Sally, Jane, Clockwork, and Nina out for a "girls" night

- Granted Nina only gets taken along bc despite the love-hate relationship between my character and Jeff, Jeff deserves time away from Nina during the holidays at least

- Also despite Jeff hating Nina he appreciates the knives she gives him (and return he gives her some sort of card)

- Due to staying in the vents constantly and stalking everyone my character gets everyone what they think they like would like

- Christmas lights everywhere. Splendor always gets Offender to put the star on top the comically large tree just bc

- Despite it not being Christmas music, everyone listens to Hotel California by The Eagles

- and watches Christmas movies (what was that Christmas movie with Tim Allen?)

- Everyone plays in the snow. Jeff decides to start a snowball fight and Sally makes a snow man.

- Everyone wears something festive and it's normally an ugly sweater thanks to Trender

- Spiked nog anyone?

- Thanksgiving includes everyone gathering together and having fun

- A small hunting trip is planned instead of a football game (the hunt takes place the day prior bc no one wanna miss the parade)

- Sally's favorite float is the Charlie brown float

- You know how the president pardons a turkey? Slender pardons a victim (and has been doing it since meeting Viv's character bc of a joke Viv made)

- My character makes mashed potatoes or some sort of really outdated dish from the 1700's

- The Slender Bros, Viv's character, Sally, Toby, Smile Dog, Jeff, and Nina all watch the dog show after the parade

- Nina is kinda allergic to dogs and doesn't really like them but bc of her lingering obsession with Jeff she puts up with it

- Offender and Trender argue over what dog they think should have won (funny to watch to grown immortal-ass men argue over this)

- Slender carves the turkey

- The pardoned victim is allowed to stay for dinner granted a majority of memories get changed (not really erased, just changed)

- My character, Jeff, and Ben all walk through the woods before dinner and get fucking plastered (and think no one notices....everyone notices)

- the week of Thanksgiving the tree gets put up (acceptable if it's the week of Thanksgiving, any other time then it's just weird)

- My characters mom, (considered the co-founder of Hell) pops in, steals a couple slices of pie, and leaves

- Halloween is celebrated kind of like Thanksgiving and Christmas

- My character decorates the mansion with various bones

- 31 Days of Horror Movies (at some point it's decided to watch Earnest Scared Stupid and some of the serious dog lovers opt out)

- The Slender Brothers dress up as the three musketeers. Splendor is Porthos, Offender is Athos, Slender is D'artagnan and, Trender is Aramis

- Jeff and my character do a duel costume by dressing of as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer from Cats (musical not movie, duh) alternatively they dress as Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffelees.

- Sally dresses as Carrie or a fairy princess

- Jane, Clockwork, Nina, Viv's Character dress up as four of the five muses from Hercules (Viv changes last minute to a cat due to her character having cat ears and a cat tail)

- Toby, Masky, and Hoodie originally wanted to dress as the three musketeers but after slender took that idea they decide to dress up as separate things. Toby dresses as Masky. Masky dresses as the phantom of the opera and Hoodie is a ghost.

- Smile dog dresses as a hot dog :P

- A small hunting trip is planned and Jane and Clockwork take Sally trick or treating

- Everyone finishes the month with A Night are Before Christmas (a classic)

- Not many celebrate Valentine's day

- It's really only the Slender Bros, Viv's character, My character, Nina, Toby, Masky & Hoodie, and Sally

- and by Sally I mean she just leaves candy from the candy bowl everywhere

- Masky and Hoodie make a day of it since Slender gives them holidays off. They eat cheesecake in the woods and just spend the day together.

- Toby spends the day alone but still celebrates in his own way. Eating waffles.

- Offender (in our improv thing he's not....yeah....he's just a hopeless romantic that does consensual hook ups) and my character spend his their leaving roses out at restaurants and going to bars for hookups. They have a bunch of stuff worked out.

- Viv and Slender spend the day in bed or lounging in the living room watching some cheesy comedy.

- Trender spends the day as a self care day seeing as he's alone at the moment. Every day is self care for him but it's even more on Valentine's Day. He goes all out and even treats himself to a fancy restaurant.

- Splendor likes going to neighborhoods and leaving cute little poems on people's doors then heading to the zoo for personal time.

- Nina harasses Jeff who, in return, leaves the mansion and heads to the apartment him and my character share.

- New Years is something everyone celebrates. While some have resolutions others have new quotas they're trying to meet.

- Sally tries to stay up and watch the ball drop (she's only seen it drop twice before falling asleep)

- My character and Viv's character get shit faced

- Jeff normally sits there with a beer in one hand and Smile Dog beside him

- that's really all that consists of New Years

More about our two characters:

My character:

- a 401 year old demon thing

- in our universe hell is ran by the 7 devil's as well as my characters mother. Hells more of a city than a pit.

- Has lived with Jeff as a roommate since late 2018

- Use to be with Herobrine but broke it off with him for unknown reasons.....they're civil and still good friends. He's one of those people that could make a good boyfriend but is best as a close friend

- On their 400th birthday a crackening happened in Hell that enhanced their powers and they were hunted by Zalgo. Luckily a truce was established.

- Has been by Viv's character side since her characters soul was first created. More in Viv's Character's section

- Y'know those dogs that were talked about in the beginning? They primarily stay at their mothers mansion in Hell.

- Also all cats go to hell but they don't get hurt. They like to watch. Sometimes if you're lucky you might get a celebrity's cat. That's how my character got their lovely (and kinda douchy cat) Delilah. She likes to pee all over people's suits just bc she's like that.

- They were born in 1620 but are progressive

- Still liked fashion through the ages

- Maybe not the health damaging ones

- Is able to fly and teleport but due to back pain and migraines prefers to stay grounded and rarely use teleportation

- Doesn't actually kill much but has had souls sold to them (job as a demon....doesn't really need one though....is Crossroads Demon)

- Had a one night stand with Trender about 240ish years ago

- Does have proxies....it's those souls they take and barter around for

- Souls in hell can be used for currency depending on whether or not they sold their soul

- Anyways, was at some point known for having an obsession with chainsaws and hoodies...still has a bunch of hoodies and a chainsaw but doesn't really use them much (is more of a flannel and gun person now)

Viv's Character:

- her character managed to get everyone's favorite dwarfed rag doll cat from the internet

- Her character use to be with Entity 303 and ended up Slenderman

- that makes two of us who were with a Minecraft pasta and ended up with a slender brother lol

- I think her character is called Kat or KC so for now imma call her character Kat

- Kat has an addiction to tuna and milk

- Also has cat ears and a cat tail which are both very sensitive

- when Kat's soul was created my character was created. Even though Kat has been through many many reincarnations my character has always been alongside her. Even though my character doesn't die they act as a guardian towards Kat.

- Has a tendency to sit up in the cat walks and within the walls of the mansion alongside my character

- Gets lost in the forest from time to time and needs help getting out

- Despite being with Slender she has her own room to store her weapons and stash her plans.

- If I'm not mistaken Kat also was with Toby for a short while but doesn't talk about it much. Imagine dating your ex-lovers boss lol

- Disappears for up to a week sometimes without saying where she's going and when she comes back she acts as if nothing happened

- When both Kat and my character started living in the mansion they shared a room for about a year.

- Kat had a personal garden that was completely wiped out by Zalgo before a treaty was established and she still hasn't forgave him

- The garden mostly had marigolds and a few small plants. The only one that really mattered was Audrey the Venus fly trap.

[violetsmoak]

The Specter at the Feast [1/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556579/chapters/59300599

Summary: A tragic incident as a child left Tim Drake with the ability to commune with the dead. It’s a skill he’s used to close some of the most confounding cases to come across his desk at Gotham City’s Major Crimes Unit. But when he learns of an apparent murder-suicide that could link to a very personal case he’s been working for ten years, he might need more than a connection to the afterlife to solve it. Especially when Detective Jason Todd, a man in denial about his own psychic abilities, is assigned lead on the same case.

Sparks immediately fly between the two detectives—and not necessarily in a good way—as they are forced to work together to take down a macabre serial killer before it’s too late.

Disclaimer: This story uses characters, situations and premises that are copyright DC Comics, Inc. No infringement pertaining to graphic novels, television series or films is intended by violetsmoak in any way, shape or form. This fan-oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Author’s Note: Here’s one of the stories I’ve been working on for JayTimWeek. As I mentioned on tumblr, I got hit by a big blast of inspiration for one of my original stories and have kind of been working on that like mad for the past three weeks, so unfortunately I didn’t have time to dedicate to the prompt fills for JTW as I wanted to. As soon as I run out of steam for that, I’ll get back to filling the prompts. So, bad news I probably won’t post anything else during the event, but eventually my prompts will all crop up once I recapture my attention span :P Huge thank you to strawberyjei for taking the time to beta-read this chapter!

_______________________________________________________________

“That stuff will kill you one day.”

Tim Drake frowns and glances to his right, noticing the half-amused and half-exasperated smile playing on his best friend’s face.

“Will not,” he retorts with the instantaneity of an oft-repeated argument and leans more securely against sun-warmed stone. He takes a defiant sip from his jumbo travel mug, enjoying the bitterness of his favorite morning indulgence—slow-brewed light roast with three shots of espresso. “Besides, how else do you expect me to be awake enough to drive out here at this hour?”

He doesn’t have to see Kon to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“You don’t actually have to—you’re the one who keeps showing up; I just wait here.”

There’s something buried in the joking tone, and Tim shifts in discomfort as he detects the unspoken scolding. Choosing to ignore it, he swallows another mouthful of coffee and stares past the well-kept shrubbery, observing the gentle waves on the river.

From a distance, Gotham’s elegance is deceptive. By daylight, the riot of architectural styles jutting into the horizon appear whimsical instead of grotesque, and the layers of filth and decay suggest character as opposed to rampant corruption. Even on a Sunday, it teems with energy.

I guess that’s what still convinces people to move to the crime capital of America.

Tim knows from experience that the city’s grandeur is not as noticeable when combing her streets for the criminal element.

That knowledge doesn’t stop him from digging out his cellphone and snapping a few lazy photos. The quality won’t compare to shots taken with the Nikon he has at home, but it’s rare to perceive the city of his birth as something other than sinister; he won’t squander the opportunity.

“Maybe it’s the other way around,” Tim suggests in a light tone. “I could just be out here, minding my business, taking in the scenery—”

“Hah!”

“—and you’re stalking me.”

“Stalking’s your thing.”

“Is it really stalking if you get paid for it?”

“Whatever you say, detective,” Kon sneers without true malice and crosses his arms across his chest. Despite the chilly early spring air, he’s wearing only a black t-shirt with a red Superman symbol. Tim gave it to him for his birthday a few years ago, but the sight of it these days still elicits a nostalgia-induced lump in his throat. “Either way, you’re the chump who showed up here on his first day off in forever. Sunday, remember? You’re supposed to be spending the day lounging at your fancy estate, getting ready to gorge yourself on Alfred-made dinner, not bumming around with me.”

“That’s not for hours,” Tim dismisses, “and to be honest, I’d rather skip it.”

Kon glances sideways at him. “Haven’t you missed it all month?”

“I was working the entire time. Everyone in the family has to do the occasional weekend rotation, Alfred knows that. Besides, I see them all at some point or another every week.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Kon taunts. “I thought we agreed you needed to stop isolating yourself?”

The furrow in his brow is one that Tim recognizes as a prelude to concern, though, and he suspects he won’t be able to deter his friend.

“I’m not isolating myself.”

“That so? When was your last date?”

And there it is.

“I left myself wide open for that one,” Tim sighs.

“You know I’m right.”

“Here it comes…”

“I’m serious—you can’t still be carrying a torch for your ex—”

“There are no torches.”

“—hoping it’ll work out—”

“I’m not!”

“—because that ship has sailed,” Kon concludes. “She’s dating your sister for God’s sake.”

“I’m aware.”

“And it’s been two years.”

“I’ve been on dates in the last two years,” Tim protests.

“Cassie doesn’t count,” Kon replies. 

That earns a wince. “We agreed never to speak about that.”

“And I told you I was fine with it, man, it’s not like I was there.”

There’s a heavy sensation in Tim’s chest at that reminder, and he scowls at Kon for bringing it up. That usually earns a shrug or palms-up gesture of surrender, but today Kon squares his shoulders and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“I already told you it meant nothing. We were both hurting and just…needed someone,” Tim insists.

Kon ignores him. “Which I’m okay with—relieved, even. I know you guys wouldn’t have looked at each other if circumstances were different. Which brings me back to Cassie, not counting.”

“She was there for me as much as I was there for her—can we please talk about something else?”

“Depends—do you have a better example than my last girlfriend?”

“Hey, I’ve been with other people! Remember Tam?”

“Yeah, your dad’s former business manager’s daughter,” Kon deadpans, “who you only started dating because everyone thought it was convenient. And she left you because you weren’t interested enough in the relationship.”

“What are you talking about? I was interested!”

“You didn’t even get to second base with her, man.”

“Are you seriously using the baseball metaphor?”

“Then there’s Bernard Whatshisname for the occasional booty call.”

“I regret ever telling you about that.”

“And don’t even get me started on that cop from Hong Kong that you hooked up with last month.”

“Okay, that one was a mistake,” Tim admits.

“But none of those were actual relationships. You haven’t had one of those since Steph.”

“I don’t recall you being this judgy before.”

“You’re one of my only sources of entertainment,” Kon deflects. “It’s like binge-watching Netflix and yelling at the idiot hero to stop screwing up his life. Except in this case, the idiot hero can actually hear me and have to listen.”

“‘Have to’ is debatable…”

Kon pushes off the stone they are both leaning against and turns to face him. It always annoys Tim when he pulls this, given he’s three inches taller and has twice the upper body strength.

“This is what you do, Tim. You keep people at a distance and on the rare occasion where they disappoint you or hurt you, you close yourself off,” Kon sighs. “You need to relax, man.”

Tim’s phone rings, granting him a welcome distraction.

“The last time I relaxed, I got stabbed,” he reminds Kon as he glances at the device. He blinks in surprise when he recognizes his brother’s scowling face and phone number flashing up at him. “Speak of the devil.” He swipes at the screen and answers, making a face at his best friend. “Gremlin.”

“Timothy,” is the terse answer, and Tim can almost hear the scowl in the younger man’s voice.

Huh. First name today. Either something bad happened, or he wants something.

Tim ignores the tiny edge of worry blossoming at the thought; if it were a family emergency, Alfred or Dick would call him, not Damian.

It must be the second thing.

“What do you want?”

“Where are you this morning?” the younger man asks, ignoring the question.

“It’s Sunday, where do you think I am?” he shoots back, deciding two can play ‘answer-with-a-question.’

Except Damian seems to have no intention of following the usual script.

“Of course,” he says instead, sounding distracted. “Then you should be close enough.”

“…For what?”

There’s a beat of hesitation, and then Damian says, “I may have stumbled upon something you’d find…interesting.”

Because that doesn’t sound ominous…

“Define ‘interesting’.”

“I’m at work,” Damian says. “Securing a crime scene.”

That moves Tim along the spectrum from wary to defensive at once. He goes to substantial lengths to avoid working with any of his siblings in a professional capacity. It’s a necessity in a family where law enforcement is all but synonymous with the name Wayne. Even if their older brother Dick hadn’t started the tradition of downplaying that link in the professional sphere, Tim has always been diligent in establishing professional boundaries. So far, his family has respected them. Damian, in particular, has always been gleeful—almost militant—in keeping to that maxim; for him to break it, something must have upset him. 

And for him to reach out to me instead of Dick is…I don’t think it’s ever happened.

“Are you sure you should have called me then?” Tim queries in a careful tone, wanting to make sure he’s not misreading the situation. “Dick might be a better option.”

“Richard wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t view it the same way.”

“The same way,” Tim repeats, the words sparking something—a flicker of suspicion begins to take shape.

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this,” Damian continues, “so you’d better be appreciative—”

“Spit it out, Damian.” Tim doesn’t have the patience for the adult version of ‘I-know-something-you-don’t-know’.

“Murder-suicide. Apparently. The bodies were posed,” Damian says, voice low as if he doesn’t want someone to overhear him, “And all the victims are holding hands.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry and his entire body tenses. “All?”

“Five,” Damian tells him shortly.

That makes Tim close his eyes in dismay. “Other than the number it’s the same MO as the others?”

“The crime itself, yes. Don’t your files say the last one was five years ago?”

Tim knows it should irritate him that Damian’s been poking around his casefiles—he always considered office protocol as more guidelines than law. But the infraction pales next to the knowledge blossoming into being.

It’s happening again.

“If you want to see for yourself, get here before whoever they assign as the lead detective does,” Damian is saying.

Torn, Tim’s eyes flick to Kon, who clearly knows what is being said and whose expression is all-too knowing for Tim’s liking.

“Where is it?” Tim asks at last.

“Diamond District. Gotham Tower Apartments.”

“That’s unusual,” Tim grunts, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. Only one of the earlier cases took place in what either of them would consider an upper-class neighborhood. “Also, outside of my jurisdiction.”

“That wouldn’t stop me if I were in your position.”

There’s a click and then a dial tone.

Tim gives a slow exhale, closing his eyes.

He and Damian were never the closest, but once the early friction between them eased, they developed their own dynamic. And one specific shared understanding that they bonded over in secret, away from the prying and often unintentionally judging eyes of family.

“How is he a jerk even when he’s trying to be helpful?” Tim mutters more to himself than Kon. He’s already calculating how long it will take him to get across the bridge from Metropolis.

Half an hour, with no traffic.

It will be cutting it close, assuming Damian holds off giving his own precinct the details until the last second.

He must be serious about this if he’ll risk being called up on discipline for not following protocol.

Tim turns to Kon. “Sorry, but I need to head out.”

“Like I won’t see you again next week,” Kon dismisses with a grim smile. “After all, you’re always here.”

“You say that like you don’t want me to be,” Tim replies, suspicious.

“Don’t put words in my mouth. You’re my best friend, I obviously want you to visit. But you need more in your life than work, checking in with me and—I dunno—chasing some white whale.”

“Really?” Tim deadpans. “You, of all people? You want me to give up trying to get justice—”

“Not what I’m saying,” Kon interrupts. “I’m just trying to tell you there’s more out there and you deserve to find it.” He pauses. “And   agrees with me.”

Tim cuts off a curse with a hiss. “That is a low blow, you two ganging up on me.”

“What can I say? You’d better listen, or he’ll do something impulsive, if he hasn’t already.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tim grumbles, keying the coordinates of the crime scene into his phone’s GPS.

“Remember,” Kon calls after him, “ ”

“Always do,” Tim replies. As he heads for the gates of the cemetery, brushing his fingers against the headstone that reads: Connor Kent, Beloved Son, Brother, Friend—Brave Fireman of the Metropolis Fire Department.

⁂

“Six days,” Jason Todd fumes, glaring down at the muddle of papers and file folders in front of him. “I’m gone for six days, and you jerks decide to turn my desk into an episode of Hoarders.”

“Relax, Todd, it’s just paper, not toxic waste,” Detective Adams drawls as she passes by, unapologetically grabbing a few of the offending folders on her way.

“This? This is not just paper, it’s a potential biohazard.”

His desk, usually the immaculate outlier in the chaotic, open concept dumping ground of the 12th Precinct, is now covered in empty coffee cups, old take-out cartons, and other detritus.

“Says the man who filled my desk drawer with a cubic foot of golf balls the last time I was on leave.”

“None of which were covered in saliva—I mean, come on!” He holds up several crumpled napkins. “It’s just common fucking courtesy!”

“Take it up with Rayner.”

“Of course it was him. Guy has it out for me…”

“You did shoot him.”

“One time! And it was a shoulder wound! If I hadn’t, both our covers would have been blown and we’d both be dead.”

“Cry me a river, Todd,” Adams snorts. “I’ve got a lead on the Kirano case and don’t have time to wipe away your tears of manly angst.”

She stalks away, totally missing how he flips her the bird. Not that his heart is in it; he’s actually fond of Onyx and would even work with her if she could stand him. But the one time they were partnered together, it ended with them running away from an exploding truck and a two-inch-thick shard of metal through her shoulder.

Still trying to figure out how I got the blame for that one…

It’s not like he goes into a situation intending to get the people next to him injured. For some reason, he just happens to be better at intuiting incoming threats, whether it be a perp taking a swing with a knife or stopping just short of being shot.

It happens, sometimes, this inexplicable intuition. Roy always called it a sixth sense, but Jason takes issue with any of that hokey paranormal crap. He gets hunches—gut feelings that have served him extremely well in his career and helped him rise quickly through the ranks.

But he doesn’t like to think of himself as psychic.

He likes thinking of the possible reason for his “hunches” even less.

Finally getting the worst of the garbage into the trashcan beneath his desk, Jason starts on the wayward papers, pleased that most of it can be shredded and won’t require a trip to the file room. There’s one folder, however, that doesn’t fit anywhere: some arson report that has nothing to do with any of his ongoing cases.

He skims through the particulars of the folder and notes the name on the CSI report—B. Allen—which suggests it isn’t even recent. He’s been friends with the new ME, Stephanie Brown, for two years now, and never met the guy that was here before her.

Maybe someone’s trying to find a pattern or something.

Jason decides to bring it to the captain; if anyone’s missing a file related to their case, she’ll have a better idea.

He skirts around uniformed officers moving to and fro, some leading handcuffed offenders to the holding cells at the back of the building, others talking over their cases with each other or on the phone. He passes the office corkboard, filled with everything from sketches of perps at large (it seems Dr. Pamela Isley is up to her usual eco-terrorism) to reminders about the Gotham General Blood Drive (anyone who donates in uniform gets the rest of the day off, as well as the next one).

By the time he reaches the captain’s office, he’s sweating. It might be crisp outside, but inside there are so many bodies moving around that it might as well be the hottest day of summer.

Raising his hand to knock, he’s surprised when the door opens inward and the captain steps out.

“Todd,” she says with a blink, then nods to herself. “Right. You’re back today. That works. Get in here—I’ve got a case for you.”

He’s too used to Artemis’ brusque manner to be bemused; instead, he ducks into her office and closes the door behind him.

“It’s not another missing kid, is it?” he asks apprehensively; the last case involved a fourteen-year-old girl. “No promises I won’t break some scumbag’s teeth again if that’s the case.”

“You’d better not break anyone’s teeth,” Artemis chides him, a warning glint in her eyes. “Especially since you just got off suspension.”

And that for using “unnecessary force” in apprehending a drug dealer selling his shit to a bunch of kids.

“But no,” she continues, sitting behind her desk and reaching for a file, “it’s not. The officers on the scene are reporting it as an apparent murder-suicide.”

“And you thought that’s how I wanted to spend my first day back at work? I’m touched. Whatever made you think of me?”

“The fact that you were conveniently in front of me when I opened the door.”

“Aw, here I was expectin’ you to say something like, ‘well, you’re a constant pain in my ass, but you’ve also got the best record for closin’ cases in this department’.”

“You don’t need the ego boost. Now either take it and be grateful, or I’m giving it to Adams as I planned—”

“Gimme,” Jason interrupts, snatching the file folder from her.

“That’s what I thought.”

He settles into one of the chairs in front of the captain’s desk and opens the folder.

“I want this one looked into and closed as soon as possible,” Artemis goes on.

“Why?”

“Because of who the victim is.”

Jason frowns, scans through the preliminary report to see that the victim—victims—have, in fact, been identified. His eyebrows shoot upward.

“J. Devlin Davenport.” He looks up at Artemis, askance. “The investment guy? The one being investigated for embezzlement?”

“Fraud Squad’s been building a case against him for six months now,” Artemis confirms. “The guy set up a fake company and defrauded his investors out of 200 million. They’re still trying to track the stuff he funneled through the Bahamas.” 

“If they find it, send it my way,” Jason says, still skimming through the papers.

“Could you sound any more cliché?”

“If I tried, maybe,” he replies, distracted as he slides the folder he brought to one side of her desk. 

“What’s that?” Artemis asks.

“Dunno. File was on my desk. Arson, I think. Figured someone left it there.”

“We don’t have any arson cases ongoing at the moment, but I’ll ask around. Maybe someone’s doing case research.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason murmurs. He taps the paper in front of him. “Listen, if they’re saying this is a murder-suicide, that’s probably what it is.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Look at the transcript from when it was called in.”

“‘Bodies of the deceased were…arranged around the dinner table’,” Jason reads. “What the… ‘lack of struggle might suggest sedation before they were removed to the dining room and posed’—posed? Like a photographer does?” He makes a face. “Kind of a lot of effort for someone who just committed suicide right after…”

“If I’m not mistaken, that would be the thing that needs investigating.”

Jason ignores the sarcasm, checking to see who called this in.

Al-Ghul. Huh. Well, at least he’ll keep the place from being overrun. Kid’s scary good at keeping the rubberneckers away.

And pissing off the MEs by lurking around while they work.

Jason knows the new officer just wants to learn, but he also tends to be a bit of an entitled know-it-all like most of his generation. It’s a trait he’ll lose the longer he walks a beat and works up through the ranks, but right now it makes most people want to punch him.

Jason might be one of those people if it weren’t for the fact Al-Ghul is meticulous about taking statements, prompt in securing crime scenes, and entirely willing to go the extra mile to help a detective close a case even when he’s off the clock. He recognizes the ambition and the need to prove himself from his own first years as a cop.

If he adjusts that attitude a bit, I might even put in a recommendation to put him on detective track…

Jason closes the folder and grins at Artemis.

“So, who’s the unlucky bastard you’re pairing me with today?”

He doesn’t work well with a partner, given his tendency to ignore rules in favor of his gut instincts. Especially since it’s never steered him wrong. Most other detectives can’t stand that, with the exception of his last partner, Roy Harper, who transferred to Star City six months ago to be closer to his daughter. Then again, Roy always considered rules arbitrary anyhow.

Since then, Jason’s been cycled through almost all the detectives at the 9th Precinct, all without finding a decent fit.

Pretty sure it’s Artemis’ way of torturing me since plenty of other guys work their cases solo.

It’s a blatant implication that he needs a babysitter.

“Rayner wrapped up most of his cases last week,” Artemis replies without even checking the duty roster on her desk.

“Hell no.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I giving you the impression you have a choice?”

“Unless you want me back on suspension, you’re not putting me with that asshole.”

“Well, Jason,” she says, finally looking up at him with an expression that suggests she’s fully ready to call his bluff, “you have this tendency to either piss off or sleep with whoever gets assigned to you. At least if you’re working with someone that pisses you off, I’m less likely to need to fill out the paperwork to reassign them afterward.”

“And if they happen to fall into both categories?” he leers at her in an exaggerated manner. She was one of his partners once, both on the job and briefly outside of it. He prods at the plaque on her desk that reads Captain A. Bana-Migdhall. In retaliation, she reaches over and raps him on the knuckles with it. “Ow!”

“You’re not helping your case right now.”

“You know, it’s not my fault Eddie decided he’d rather play Bond Babe for the scary CIA chick with the one eye. And Miguel’s the one who couldn’t keep his hands off me, so…”

“Just…go find Rayner,” Artemis sighs, waving her hand in dismissal. “I need that crime scene checked over and wrapped up quickly. The Mayor’s office wants an answer on this pronto.”

Jason sneers at that. “Of course they do. Because the Waynes and Davenports are old country club buddies, right?”

“Maybe fifty years ago. But Bruce Wayne spent more time as a cop than some rich college co-ed. He got elected based on his tough-on-crime stance, so it’s more likely he just wants to make sure the high-profile target of a class-action suit hasn’t been the victim of foul play.” Artemis pauses. “Especially since, having met the man, I’m pretty sure Wayne would have liked to beat the truth out of Davenport personally.”

“Now there’s a reality show I’d watch.”

“On your own time. Now go do your job.”

“Or Rayner.”

Artemis drops her pen and stares. “What?”

“Well, from what you said before, I figure if I fuck Rayner, it means you won’t ever make me work with him again, so—”

“Get the hell out of my office!” Artemis barks, throwing her tissue box at his head. Jason ducks and slips out of her office with a grin on his face.

There are a few good-natured laughs from his coworkers—“In trouble again, Todd?”—and he heads across the room to Kyle Rayner’s desk.

“What do you want?” the other detective demands, nose wrinkling at Jason like he’s just smelled something rank. It’s his default expression whenever they cross paths.

It’s also the expression that drives Jason to mess with him whenever he can.

Time for a bit of payback for the desk thing.

“Not me,” he says, affecting a nonchalant shrug. “Captain wanted to know if you could head down to the 7th.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Apparently her opposite number there has something she needs to be sent over and doesn’t want to wait on official channels to slow everything down.”

“What do I look like, a courier?” Rayner growls, but Jason can see from the way he smooths a hand through his hair that he’s got him.

It’s not exactly a secret that Jason’s workplace nemesis has a thing for Precinct 7’s Captain Troy, or that he’ll take any excuse to go flirt with her.

It’s unrequited, of course, and Jason’s bound to get an earful from Donna the next time they run into each other, but worth it to get Rayner out of his way.

“Whatever, man, I just work here,” he says, only half-pretending irritation. “You want to tell Captain ‘no’, it’s your balls in a vice, not mine.”

“Yeah, that’d be a switch, wouldn’t it?”

But the other man pushes back his chair and grabs his jacket.

Jason smirks at his retreating back and spins on his heel, returning to his own desk to grab his car keys.

Maybe the day’s looking up a bit.

⁂

There’s a gaggle of reporters already on the scene when Tim arrives, and he wonders not for the first time just how many of them have their own inside sources in the various police precincts of Gotham. There are also two ambulances on the scene, but thankfully someone had the foresight to park them in a way that shields the entrance of the high-rise apartment.

Officer Kelley, Damian’s partner of six months, is walking back and forth along the police tape to ensure none of the intrepid rubberneckers can get through. Head down and dark glasses firmly in place, Tim hurries past the press before they can recognize him (it thankfully doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it’s a pain in the ass) and approaches Kelly. Though they’ve met before, he flashes his badge and identifies himself. 

All of Tim’s official identification name him as Timothy Drake-Wayne and have since he was about seventeen, but he only uses the latter name if he absolutely must. With regards to work, he’s only ever used it during official meetings with the Commissioner or during obligatory police ceremonies.

Or when Bruce makes up some official sounding excuse to check up on me when he feels he hasn’t heard from me in a while.

He's endured at least one of those this past month.

Kelley barely raises an eyebrow, suggesting Damian must have warned her who he was calling and waves him through. It speaks to how much they trust each other as partners that she’s going along with what’s clearly a personal issue. Most other cops would question the need for two law enforcement officers from the same family needing to be at the same crime scene.

There are two elevators in the lobby, one of which is already open with a sign posted to warn residents from using it. Another officer Tim doesn’t recognize is waiting beside it, and Tim once again flashes his badge before heading up.

He’s subjected to a brief interlude of elevator muzak, before the doors open to the foyer outside of what has to be the victims’ apartment. Two ambulance techs are just exiting, carrying with them tools that are clearly useless here. He waits for them to pass and slips inside, taking in the stylish décor of the hall and nearby living room. Inside the latter, there’s a small woman speaking to another EMT, a blanket over her shoulders as she tries to speak through sobs.

Damian is watching the scene from across the room, mouth pulled into his habitual frown; this deepens when he sees Tim. Undeterred, Tim strides over—he was invited, after all.

“So, are you going to tell me why I’m risking Cassie’s wrath this morning?” he asks as he joins the younger man. Tim's friend might not be the type of captain to fire him for the flagrant conduct unbecoming, but she can make his life miserable for the foreseeable future.

“The bodies were found this morning by the cleaning lady,” Damian says, also not bothering with such trite pleasantries as a greeting. “No signs of break-in or struggle.”

“Cleaning lady? This early on a Sunday? They must have been paying her overtime.”

Damian raises an eyebrow. “Pennyworth works Sundays.”

“Only because it would take the same amount of phenobarbital to stun a moose as it would to make Alfred take a day of rest.” They exchange a wry look of agreement, and Tim returns to the subject at hand. “So, she identified the bodies?”

“Yes. Joseph Devlin Davenport, his wife Lina, and the three teenaged offspring—Neil, Irene, and Roderick.”

Tim’s eyes go wide; he’s met every one of them before. “Shit.”

“Indeed.” Damian flips through his notepad, though they both know it’s for show. “All the victims were executed by two gunshots to the head, except Davenport himself; the medical examiner was here, and her preliminary findings suggest the husband shot his wife and children first, then turned the gun on himself. There are no signs of struggle, no bruising, or markings on the bodies…”

“None of that’s particularly extraordinary though.”

“And then there’s their hands.”

They share a look.

“Did you mention that when you called it in to your superiors?”

“No, when I called it in I gave them the basics. Since then I’ve noticed a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact a firearm was discharged several times in a residential complex and no one heard anything,” Damian says. “Yet I didn’t find a suppressor anywhere on the scene; just the weapon itself.”

“Is the penthouse soundproofed?” Tim asks.

“No. When I spoke to the downstairs residents, they told me they had even made several noise complaints to the building management in the past. Nothing ever came from it, of course—money talks—but someone should have heard something.”

“Assuming they recognized the sound of gunfire. This isn’t exactly Burnley. Which…could be a good thing. Buildings like this tend to have good security systems.”

“Obviously that was my next thought,” Damian drawls. “While Kelley was calming down the help, I went to speak with the security guards in case the camera system caught sight of anyone suspicious.”

"And did they?"

“No. They apparently had to run a routine update on their software, which knocked out the feed between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m.”

“And you think this is when the shooting took place.”

“I imagine Brown will find the time of death to be around that point,” Damian agrees with a smug upward quirk of his lips. “For Davenport to decide to kill himself at the exact time when the security feeds go offline is rather coincidental.”

Tim shakes his head. “Maybe, maybe not. Anything else?”

“What about the fact Davenport was left-handed but shot himself with his right hand?”

Tim blinks. “And how do you figure he was left-handed?”

“Please,” Damian dismisses with a snort, “I’ve been forced to attend enough fundraisers with Father in the past, and Davenport was often present. Even you would remember that ham-fisted troglodyte trying to sip from a champagne flute had you ever deigned to attend.”

Tim tilts his head in acknowledgment of both the barb and the observation. “Fair. Though so far all of this sounds pretty circumstantial—nothing really screams 'second shooter' here. And other than the hand thing—”  

“Go see for yourself. The bodies are in the dining room. I imagine your specific talents will confirm my suspicions.” Tim starts into the apartment. “By the way, if you’re still here when the lead detective gets here, I’ll deny knowing you.”

Tim snorts. “As expected.”

“And you are not to tell Richard I was involved in this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Tim has to hold back a chuckle at that; Damian is even more acquainted with Dick’s mollycoddling than he is.

“Noted. Let Alfred know I might be a bit late for dinner tonight.”

“It’s not Alfred you have to worry about.”

Tim heads down the hall, accepting a pair of plastic gloves from one of the passing investigators. As he pulls them on, he takes note of the doors to the bedrooms that remain open, and the photographs and paintings hanging on the walls. Nothing is disturbed, no signs of a struggle like there would be if the victims had been dragged from their beds, and there’s no sign of blood on the floors leading from the rooms or even the hallway itself.

That means the victims either walked voluntarily—which is unlikely—or sedated and carried.

It’s looking like Damian’s instincts might be on-point here, but it’s not until Tim steps foot in the dining room that he realizes just how much that’s the case.

He freezes in place, hit with a familiar jarring of his senses at something not meant to be perceived.

Davenport was a man in his mid-forties, tall and with the look of a skinny person that’s suddenly gained a whole lot of weight, and not in a healthy manner. Tim remembers meeting him at some dinner with his parents when he was younger, and his mother disparaging the man behind his back as a social-climbing schemer.

And that was before the Ponzi scheme.

The man’s blond hair implants are now plastered with blood and brain matter that oozes down the left side of his head. His eyes roll in wild fear, tears and snot running down his face, which is immobilized in a stiff smile from regular Botox injections. That mouth is now twisted in a grotesque scream that makes Tim wince even in its silence, the unsettling sensation of nails on a chalkboard traveling up through his nervous system.

Tim is careful not to draw the attention to himself, not just because of the crime scene team still milling about the scene, but because the last thing he needs right now is a panicked ghost latching on to him. Davenport’s spirit is still in too much shock for rationality and may fixate on Tim if he discovers he can see him. Which he knows from experience is not fun.

The newly dead are like drowning victims—if they catch hold of you, they’ll drag you under with them. Best case scenario, Tim experiences a few seconds of possession and a week of dissociative identity issues; worst-case scenario, he could die from the same trauma.

Unfortunately, given the lack of control newly dead spirits have, the latter is most likely.

The ghost is luckily far enough from the dining room table that Tim can edge past him without ostensibly acknowledging its presence; instead, he studies the actual bodies and tries not to regret his coffee that morning.

The five victims have not yet been moved, but the placement of tarps over them suggests the crime scene photographers have already been by. Going from one body to the next, Tim lifts the sheets carefully, trying not to disturb anything too much in his investigation. The victims are all dressed in their nightclothes, seated around the table on wooden, cloth-back chairs. 

Damian wasn’t lying; all of them holding hands.

The dining room table is fully laden with dishes and cutlery, glasses filled with orange juice and bowls with the soggy remnants of cereal and milk. Other than the angry red entrance wounds on their foreheads—two shots each—there are no other visible injuries. Only the body of the presumed shooter, based on the position of the gun and his hand, is splayed out unnaturally across the table, ostensibly from the force of the gunshot.

Otherwise, it looks like they were all just sitting down to breakfast at the time of death.

His stomach roils a bit at the notion, not only because of the clearly depraved mind behind arranging the tableau but because the scene is familiar to him in a way he wishes it wasn’t.

Teeth clenched, Tim digs out his phone and starts to take his own pictures, not wanting to have to contact the lead detective and beg for copies. In the periphery, Davenport’s ghost continues to spasm and flail, making it hard for Tim to concentrate.

His eyes rest on the spot where the murder weapon fell and is struck by a sudden idea. Hoping he’s right, he takes a quick tour of the rest of the apartment but makes deliberate stops in the bedroom and the home office.

It’s another fifteen minutes of taking pictures and lightly rummaging through the belongings of the dead before he finds something. Striding out of the office and back toward the scene of the murder, Tim shoots a text message off to his friend Victor at the ATF.

Running gun serial numbers might be a little more complicated than on TV, but the guy owes me a favor. And if I’m right—

His thoughts cut off as he notices movement out of the corner of his eye, a movement that belongs to someone living this time.

There’s a newcomer on the scene, and from the way he flashes the badge, Tim would guess it’s the detective who’s actually supposed to be here. He’s redheaded, wearing a leather jacket and a loose tie that looks like he threw it on in a hurry. Even from this distance, Tim can make out a couple of days’ worth of stubble on his chin and the edge to his mouth that’s inherently challenging. The man’s whole esthetic reads scrapper, but his posture and carriage inarguably declare cop. Tim would know, his family is made up almost entirely of them.

Pretending like he hasn’t noticed the stranger, Tim shifts to face the scene once again, continuing to study him under his lashes as the man exchanges words with Damian.

He blames Kon entirely for the way his attention rests on the man’s muscular thighs, before the man turns toward Tim and starts forward, conversation with Damian clearly over.

Well shit…

⁂

Jason has an uneasy feeling in his stomach even before he even arrives at the Davenports’ penthouse apartment.

It’s not an anticipatory reaction to seeing the aftermath of a murder—he’s worked homicide long enough to have developed a means of distancing himself from the crimes he investigates. The feeling is more like expectation, a nagging sense that something huge is about to happen.

Never a good sign in my experience.

“Detective Todd?”

Jason pauses as he finishes putting on a pair of plastic gloves and glances up at the speaker.

“Officer Al-Ghul,” he replies, more formal than usual as he tries to shove the weird feeling to the back of his mind. “What’ve we got?”

The kid excuses himself from the small, tearful woman he’s speaking to and strides over.

“It seems to be a murder-suicide,” he says and launches into a report that’s almost word-for-word the transcript of what he called into the precinct, with a few extra additions. Jason lets the words wash over him, keeping an ear out for anything that deviates too much from what he already knows while casting his eyes about the apartment.

Geeze, you could fit three Crime Alley families in the living room alone. Who the fuck needs all this space?

His eyes fall upon someone across the room that he doesn’t recognize.

Young—maybe a bit younger than Jason—with an athletic build and good looks that, despite being clean-cut, give no clue as to whether they’re male or female. Whoever it is, they’re not dressed as a CSI or in an officer’s uniform, but they’re studying the crime scene with the eye of someone in the business. When the stranger notices Jason, he or she turns around, apparently fascinated by the photographs on the living room wall.

“Who’s that?” Jason interrupts Al-Ghul. “New CSI?”

Al-Ghul scowls in annoyance, either at the interruption or at the subject of the question, Jason isn’t sure.

“Major Crimes,” he says after a beat. 

That immediately puts Jason’s back up. “What the hell is MCU doing here?”

Al-Ghul shrugs, as if to say, ‘that’s your problem, not mine’, and returns his attention to the woman from before. Deciding this is a welcome distraction from his own unease, Jason stalks toward the stranger, ready to rip them a new one.

“Hey, buddy—wanna tell me what you think you’re doing at my crime scene?”

“Just taking a look around,” the detective replies, not turning around immediately.

Jason’s eyes flick to the photos on the wall, wondering what seems so captivating.

Most of them are glamor shots, professionally done, but some are clearly personal photos. Davenport and his wife on a golf course, the teenagers lounging around against a tropical beach backdrop, and another of Davenport sitting in a bed surrounded by his kids. Though his surroundings seem comfortable, he’s hooked up to some kind of IV stand, and despite the smile on everyone’s faces, there’s a haunted edge to it.

Oh yeah, now I remember.

A while back there was something in the news about him undergoing treatment for some kind of blood cancer. He actually tried to use that to discourage his case from being investigated. Just proves what kind of scumbag Davenport is.

Was.

Which brings him back to the present.

“I’m gonna need a bit more than that unless you want me making a call to the brass up at MCU,” Jason warns.

The detective turns to offer Jason what is clearly intended to be a disarming smile. “No need for that, I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”

Jason prides himself on not being susceptible to that sort of thing, but—

Holy shit, he’s hot up close.

And yes, that’s definitely a male face studying him with an air of appraisal, in spite of the deceptively delicate features. The guy is mostly clean-shaven and wearing a smart-looking peacoat that offers a compliment to his eyes, which are very blue. It’s the intense color you don’t see very often outside of newborn babies, but with a pronounced gleam of intelligence that feels almost penetrating.

There’s also a confident set to his shoulders and a stubborn bend to his lips that instantly puts Jason’s mind on the defensive (and other parts at attention).

“Detective Drake,” the guy goes on, offering a hand to Jason. His voice is warm and smooth, the kind that’s more suited for phone sex than reciting Miranda rights. “Major Crimes, as you already seem to be aware.”

Jason refrains from taking the hand. “Detective Todd. 12th Precinct. Homicide. There a reason you guys are sticking your noses into a murder-suicide?”

“There’s reason to believe this may actually be the work of a serial murderer,” Drake replies, looking unbothered by the rebuff.

“Really,” Jason says flatly. “And what are you basing that on? Because the report I got is leanin’ pretty hard on this guy killing his wife and kids, then himself. That’s probably how the city’s going to record it. This isn’t a scene that needs in-depth investigating and there’s no need for one lead detective here, let alone two—especially not a guy who’s clearly out of his jurisdiction.”

‘Detective Drake’ doesn’t appear to notice the clear marking of territory.

“Have you been in there yet?” he asks instead.

“No, because I’m wasting my time explainin’ protocol to a smart-ass out of his jurisdiction.”

Drake smirks at that, sharp and unwavering. “Well, when you get around to it, you’ll probably cotton on to the fact the murder weapon was a .32 automatic with the serial filed off.”

“So?”

“So, first of all, the neighbors would have heard the discharge if it was fired without a decent suppressor, but there’s no evidence of one at the scene of the crime.”

Which, Jason can admit, is out of the ordinary. Most people committing suicide don’t care about how loud the shot will be that takes them out, but if they did use one, it would still be attached to the gun.

“Second, Davenport was an ardent supporter of gun rights. I remember seeing a clip of him on the news, going at it with the Mayor over his proposed gun-control laws.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Your point being?”

“My point is that generally, gun rights activists own guns. Which Davenport did—you’ll find them in his closet and his study, next to all the relevant paperwork: 9mm Glocks. And they have serial numbers.” Drake levels a challenging stare at Jason. “What’s the point of procuring an unregistered weapon when you have your own within easy reach? And why chisel the number off if you’re just going to commit suicide? It’s not like you need to care about it being traced once you’re dead.”

“The guy was rich—rich people do weird things. Probably some convoluted insurance thing,” he suggests.

“Or it wasn’t his.”

“So maybe he was holdin’ it for a friend. It happens. Still doesn’t change the fact this tool offed his own family.”

“And what about the fact that the same model gun has been found at the scene of at least fourteen other murder-suicides in this city in the past ten years?”

“It’s Gotham. Play the probabilities game long enough, you’ll get a bunch of seemingly random crimes that resemble each other.”

“Maybe. But in the ninety-something years before that—in fact, as long as the city’s kept records on this sort of thing—there have been only two murder-suicides that could fit that pattern, and those had enough additional evidence to solve immediately. But in the past decade, we've got two particular years where a series of murder-suicides were committed using an unregistered .32, where neighbors didn’t hear any of the gunshots and yet there was no sign of a suppressor. Five years ago, and ten years ago,” Drake tells him grimly. “Both those years there were exactly seven incidents, and then they stopped. None of those have been solved.”

“That says more about the investigating cops than the crimes themselves. You don’t solve a murder-suicide—the evidence is right there,” Jason insists, though what Drake has to say is uncomfortably close to what his own gut was telling him when he walked into the apartment.

“And the fact that in each situation, the victims are found holding hands?” Drake challenges, with the air of someone presenting a winning argument.

And, yeah, that’s a bit of a weird coincidence, but still not an argument for a major investigation.

“If that’s an actual detail in all these supposed cases of yours, it would have been noted.”

“Not if no one thought it was worth noting,” Drake retorts. “Not if whoever made those reports just thought it was some kind of death pact or…cult related suicide. They weren’t looking for it.”

“But you are.”

“Clearly.”

Jason peers at him another beat and then shakes his head. “Look, I have about seven other cases of actual homicide that need my attention, so if you could just—"

“Seriously?” Drake demands, losing some of his smooth calm at last. “You don’t find any of that compelling enough to—”

“To what? Start imagining serial killers where there are none? No, I don’t,” Jason snaps. “All I see so far is some rich bastard got caught running a Ponzi scheme, so he decided to take the easy way out and dragged his poor family with him. It’s what rich people do when things get hard; because if they can’t have it, no one can.”

That earns him a cold look. “Out of the other fourteen cases, only one of them involved a couple who could be considered rich.”

“Fourteen other cases where only you seem to notice the pattern. I dunno what you want me to say, buddy. Clearly, you got an ax to grind, so do me a favor and grind it away from my scene.”

Despite his words, it’s not a suggestion, and Drake recognizes it.

Scowling at Jason in something like disgust, he straightens up. “Fine. I’m going. But when another family is slaughtered by this nutjob—and it will happen—you’ll remember this discussion. Hopefully, before you have to answer another six homicide calls.”

Drake spares Jason one final judgmental look and heads for the front door.

Jason watches him, briefly admiring the man’s ass as he walks away, and then puts the encounter out of his mind. He’s got a job to do, and Artemis said she wanted this sorted out today.

Squaring his shoulders and preparing himself for another grim sight—he hates crime scenes that involve kids—he heads out of the living room toward the back of the apartment and the scene of the crime.

Crossing the threshold to the dining room, Jason’s earlier disquiet morphs, evolving from nervous apprehension to a full-blown dip towards dread. He barely catches a glimpse of the tarps draped over the bodies, when his stomach pulls tight, shoulders tensing as if waiting for a blow from the right, but there’s no one there. Something far too close to fear chokes at his throat, forcing him to pause in the doorway and put a steadying hand on the doorframe.

Spots appear across his vision, a chill winding up his spine, and—

—sobbing, hysterical tears, please don’t do this, please just let them go, heart racing, blood thundering, please no, I’ll give you anything, someone help, click, bang, agony, nothing—

Jason shudders as he comes back to himself, reeling back a step.

The sensations ebb a little but don’t completely vanish, and he has to take a few breaths to regain his control. Now that he expects it, it won’t be too hard entering the room, but the fact it hit him like that...

Jason glances back to the entrance of the apartment, mouth setting into a grimace. He’s cleaned up plenty of suicides, and they never hit him with that degree of dread before.

 He has a bad feeling that Detective Drake might have been right—whatever happened in the apartment, it wasn’t as simple as it's meant to look.

________________________________________________________________

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel! ❤️️ = I love this story!

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🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!

🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good!

😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER

😢 = you got me right in the feels

🤯mind blown

🤬god damn cliffhanger

😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!? 

[jamesmarlowe]

『ANTON THIEMKE ❙ CIS-MALE』 ⟿ looks like JAMES MARLOWE is here for HIS SENIOR year as a FINE ARTS student. He is 21 years old & known to be CLEVER, INVENTIVE, UNRELIABLE & EGOTISTICAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ SLOTH. 25. EST. SHE/HER.

hi hello welcome 2 my twisted mind ☺️ marlowe is a character i’m still fine-tuning bc he’s brand-new, so this is unfortunately.... a bit of a mess.... and mostly made up on the spot.... c’est la vie!!

(a late addition but u can also peep his weheartit collection here 4 some vibes)

his government name is james marlowe but he only goes by marlowe & only introduces himself as marlowe like he’s madonna or sting....  most ppl who know him (apart from like close friends) probably don’t even know what his first name is. maybe he doesn’t have one!

hails from Appalachia, specifically a trailer park in a poor-as-dirt stretch of Virginia where he was born n raised, baby. he’s Appalachian white trash and not afraid to admit it. marlowe’s very casual about his upbringing and his dumpster fire of a family (no less than three relatives are currently incarcerated, one of which is his older brother who’s probably serving a minor sentence for whatever dumb shit Tim Riggins got got for in FNL or like, selling illegal fireworks out of his trunk :/ ). the only thing he’s a little self-conscious about is his twang which he’s mostly suppressed by now, but other than that, he’s got no shame in where he comes from bc lbr no authentic artist ever came from money anyway!

born sandwiched in the middle of five siblings, marlowe’s always been wild and creative and impulsive, a loud-mouthed kid with too much to say for his own good, prone 2 getting in trouble but learning absolutely nothing from it. it was his mission in life to be Different from all the other kids who grew up where he grew up, with the way he talked, dressed, acted, because he knew that he was destined for bigger n better things so it was just a matter of getting other ppl to believe it, & then seeing how far a little talent and a lot of charisma would take him >:)

from age 8 onwards, he told people he was an “artist” and that became his primary identity. when he was 16 he completed an independent sculpture project (called “Skyscraper”) where he constructed a 20-foot tower made out of junk collected from around the trailer park and then glued Barbies n other dolls all clawing over each other to get to the top, smack dab in the middle of Main Street and refused to take it down even when the local fire department showed up 2 threaten him with fines. it did eventually get taken down bc it was ‘structurally unsound’ and someone nearly got concussed by a falling mannequin head, but at least it got some attention from local newspapers and w/ that as the crown jewel in his portfolio, marlowe got into a few different art/liberal arts schools the following year. radcliffe was the only one who offered a partial scholarship and the east coast sounded nice n far from home, so anyways lets go ✈️ college 

FAST FORWARD its senior year babey and marlowe’s been making the most of his time here at radcliffe. he’s a fine arts major but specializes in mixed media sculptures (and probably is really shit at most of his other classes, like art theory where u actually have to read textbooks? still life drawing? boring. yawn. won’t do it.) his entire profile as an artist i’m cribbing from Rachel Harrison bc I saw her exhibition at the whitney a little while ago and her sculptures made me go ?????¿¿¿¿¿ which i think is exactly the kind of bizarre nonsense that marlowe is going for with his “art”. feast your eyes on these masterpieces. the joke of it all is that marlowe is the first to admit that his art isn’t like.... good. but his philosophy is that if people respond to it & praise it like it’s art, then by definition, it’s art. and if it gets him places (like it got him onto Cultured Magazine’s “30 Young Artists To Watch This Decade″ list), then yeehaw!

When he’s not busy creating new monstrosities, marlowe takes one fat nap per day (usually at a time when he has class) and is otherwise a very social creature who needs constant attention. he’s got a lot of friends and is always looking to make more, not in a #fake way but just as a person who genuinely likes being around people. he very quickly gets bored if left on his own, so he’s prone to following people around campus like a stray cat regardless of whether or not they tell him to shoo. he dorms at Noland but is almost always found in other houses, often crashing in other people’s rooms (needs to be close to his friends or He’ll Die), and he definitely frequents parties, bc marlowe never passes up an opportunity to drink other people’s booze and get a lil messy and Chaotic. he’s [jim halpert voice] not a slut, but who knows? he’s kinda a slut! he’s also definitely pulled another stunt similar to Skyscraper by taking over the quad for a guerrilla art installation with his sculptures (and without the school’s permission oops) which may be the basis for some connections if ppl know him from that particular exploit!!

in summary..... marlowe can be a bit up his own ass at times, but being around him is generally a Good Time bc he’s easy-going and friendly and always down for anything, always. litcherally zero impulse control so nothing gets in the way of a dumb idea that might potentially make for a good story. perhaps he’s not the most reliable person, so don’t expect a prompt text back if ur in a life or death situation, and he doesn’t care very much about anything, so ur setting urself up for disappointment if you do expect him to care about something (the fact that he’s never been in a long-term relationship... very telling). all he wants to do is just have! fun all the time! he’s trying to scam his way into the American Dream with his dumb art, so that he can live a good life and maybe get rich and famous and eventually party at Art Basel in Miami with Frank Ocean! is that really so much to ask!

appearance: marlowe’s very vain and a lot of thought goes into his appearance even when (especially when) it doesn’t look like he’s done anything but roll straight out of bed. all of his outfits are as outrageous as his sculptures are ugly. think mismatched prints and loud colors, silk shirts gaping open like he got tired after the first three buttons, a pawn’s shop worth of jewelry, weird dangly earrings w/ feathers or tiny charms, tinted yellow or pink sunglasses, sometimes a bandana around his neck, just for extra flavor. his hair always has to look perfectly tousled; u can catch him checking out his reflection in pretty much every mirrored surface. at least half the surface area of his body is covered in tattoos & he’ll suggest getting more during every drunken night out, which... is why he has so many by now!

connections: to be quite honest its 2 am and i feel all of my higher brain functions shutting down so i’m gonna make these very simple n straightforward, but we can always workshop!!!! pls feel free to message me even if none of these strike ur fancy :0)

peers in the arts - friends, acquaintances, rivals, probably some former group project members holding a grudge....

fellow party animals who don’t mind sharing when marlowe inevitably mooches off their alcohol and drugs :)

unlikely friends!!!!! it’d be fun to have a friendship dynamic with someone who’s very different from him!!

a roommate in Noland... possibly one he’s not on good terms w/... even tho marlowe hardly EVER sleeps in his own dorm room, he uses it as a storage locker for all his “found” art materials. i can imagine that living in that mess would try the limits of anyone’s sanity :)  

enemies - they can hate his whole Genius Artist shtick and they’d be valid :/

fellow insomniacs! marlowe is very much a night owl (regular naps during the day may be 2 blame but oh well) so he needs a fellow nocturnal to hit up the late-night McDonald’s drive thru with him and then lay on the grass lookin at the stars and contemplating life’s great mysteries while eating chicken mcnuggets 

exes - idk if u can even call them tht when his past “relationships” have all had a lifespan of six weeks or less, but hey there’s drama in that too!!

fwb - i don’t think marlowe’s the type 2 be juggling too many fwb/hook-ups at one time simply because That’s A Lot of Work. that being said... he never likes to sleep alone ;) 

[geneticandunattainable]

There’s a clear bend toward electronic music late in this cluster, but the group overall spans multiple genres, including rock, R&B, and even a cinematic pop behemoth.  Now that we’re in the top twenty songs of the entire year, we’re discussing tracks that I may have listened to more than two hundreds times apiece.

20. Middle Kids – “Your Love” These three musicians from Sydney are still getting their careers off the ground, as they’ve only released an EP at this point; given the strength of the song “Your Love,” we should get used to hearing from them for years to come. The song is practically filled with hooks, and makes for an entirely delightful listen. Singer Hannah Joy, backed by her husband/bassist Tim Fitz and drummer Harry Day, effortlessly blends genres with her captivating vocals.  Many critics deemed them as the intersection between independent rock and alternative country, but I hear more rock here than anything else.  “Your Love” certainly has some pop structure, though with more genuine bite than you’d typically hear on the radio, and the production is inventive, building and crashing over and over throughout the track.  Ultimately, there’s something timeless about the song’s sound, and could easily be a lost gem from the ‘80s even though it was released last spring.

19. Sammy Brue – “I’m Not Your Man” Sure, the vocal sounds young - even strained.  Sammy Brue is clearly still coming into his voice, but not as an artist...as an actual adult.  Brue was only 15 when he wrote and recorded his debut album, and this track specifically is a total jam.  His sound may not be for everyone, but one of the producers on this debut album was John Paul White - better known as half of the brilliant alt-country duo The Civil Wars.  There’s no question that he has the pedigree behind him, and his razor-sharp songwriting skills are unquestionable.  His lyrics feel contemporary, but the sound is ripped from decades past.  Clearly Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan served as inspirations, but comparisons to Nirvana would be appropriate, too.  Brue is only going to get stronger from here, and continues to hone his folk/rock sound as he works with more musicians, including Justin Townes Earle and Lucinda Williams, just like a true prodigy.

18. Alice Merton – “No Roots” Alice Merton moved 24 times in only twelve years, leading to a feeling of complete isolation after bouncing around between Canada, the UK, Germany, and the States.  The longest that I’ve ever held one address is about five years, and my tally stands at just over two dozen moves in 33 years, so it should come as no surprise that I deeply relate to this song.  Merton swears that she had no idea it would become as popular as it did, landing her at the top of the charts for alternative rock; she’s the first solo female artist to top said chart since Lorde in 2014.  There’s an outstanding blend of genres here, with some funk percolating underneath the snarling bassline and the electronic-tinged breakdown in the latter third of the track.  One of the best aspects of the song, though, is the message; most people have a distinct place to imagine when thinking of the concept of ‘home.’  What’s clear to listeners here is that Merton lacks that experience, and that her perception of home is abstract at best when most can easily conjure that image.  For someone who shares that experience, I couldn’t be happier to sing along every time.

17. Carly Rae Jepsen – “Cut to the Feeling” There’s really no other way around it: Carly Rae Jepsen has quickly skyrocketed to the top of the list for pop stars who can consistently churn out high quality singles.  Part of the reason for her success, besides her obsession with 80’s-style synths, is that she refuses to lean into the darker side of pop that we’ve witnessed in recent years.  Jepsen isn’t concerned with mocking ex-boyfriends, frenemies, or rivals; her music centers around effervescent joie de vivre more than most of her contemporaries.  Essentially, her main goal is the distill the concept of euphoria into three or four minutes of blissful melodies.  The first thirty seconds of the track are unlike most on the radio right now, starting with synth that sounds bizarrely similar to the opening notes of Madonna’s “Lucky Star.” Any comparisons stop there, though, as the tightly measured handclap beat works perfectly with Jepsen’s syncopated vocals.  Nearly every review comments on how it was cut from her last full album, E•MO•TION, because it felt too ‘cinematic;’ my only regret is that it was wasted on a film as forgettable as Ballerina/Leap!, an animated dance movie for children that had various names based on the country where it was released.  This is a song that bottles sunshine, and should have been a juggernaut for Jepsen.  Luckily for fans, her next studio album is due in early 2018.

16. George Taylor – “I Hear Your Song, Sweetness” UK-based singer/songwriter George Taylor came out of nowhere in 2017 with this ode for other undiscovered artists.  For a guy who just released his debut album last year, he shows remarkably strong instincts on this track.  He knows when to dial back the production and when to complicate things.  Perhaps my favorite part of the song, though, is the lyrics; Taylor pierces through the aggressive initial production with his supportive, damn near inspirational theme for the up-and-coming musicians out there who feel like they aren’t even being heard.  The 24 year old grew up in Leicester before relocating to London, and claims he’s been writing songs since he was 13.   Clearly he has a natural talent, as the vacillation between isolated vocals on the verses and thundering, riotous choruses serves to make the song that much more dramatic.  It’s only a matter of time before we start seeing this song crop up in films and television, as it seems almost tailor-made for soundtracks.

15. Calvin Harris feat. Frank Ocean and Migos – “Slide” If I’m being completely honest, I first discovered this song on an HBO commercial for season two of Insecure (a personal favorite).  Regardless of one’s opinion on Calvin Harris, the main appeal for me was hearing Frank Ocean on such a radio-friendly single.  Ocean and Harris deftly make an entry to the recent genre of nu-disco, slyly combining hip-hop and dance music with a piano-driven song that may surprise the audience purely off of the talent roster.  Calvin Harris, Frank Ocean, and rappers Quavo and Offset from hip-hop trio Migos all come together despite their own distinctive discographies.  It’s expertly crafted, but let’s be honest here - the second that Ocean starts singing, he steals the track from everyone else involved.  If you’re looking for breezy, SoCal hip hop, this is for you, but that description seems almost limiting considering what was achieved here.  For those of us who are consistently looking for new Frank Ocean tracks, “Slide” is a pleasant surprise.

14. Electric Guest – “Oh Devil” LA-based duo Electric Guest - which becomes a full band on tour - had a relatively forgettable sophomore album last year.  The major standout for me, though, was this playful track that utilizes its electronic production to toy with the arrangement constantly throughout its three and a half minute running time.  Perhaps the most interesting fact about Electric Guest is that it’s forwarded by Asa Taccone, the younger brother of Jorma Taccone - famous for being a member of The Lonely Island, along with appearances on shows like Girls and Parks and Rec.  Asa helped compose a lot of the music for The Lonely Island, which led to Jorma putting him in touch with Brian Burton (otherwise known to the world as Danger Mouse).  Long story short, Taccone now works with Matthew Compton, who supplies drums for their work and met Taccone through Burton, to create songs under the name Electric Guest.  “Oh Devil” merges pop, electronic dance, and R&B with some clear Caribbean influences, as well.   There’s a lot to like here, and if all you’re looking for is an earworm that comes out of left field, then this song is the one for you.

13. SZA – “20 Something” Solána Rowe had an incredible 2017, and released one of the biggest debut albums of the entire year under her stage name SZA.  Given the success of “All the Stars,” her collaboration with Kendrick Lamar on the Black Panther soundtrack, it seems like 2018 is going to be a huge year, too. This success didn’t come overnight, though.  Rowe has been working her way up for years, slowly gaining influences as diverse as Rihanna, Björk, Miles Davis, and Animal Collective.  Her R&B has a stripped down quality, especially on album standout “20 Something;” there is a poignant simplicity on display that translates the anguish and anxiety of your 20s perfectly.  It becomes clear quickly that Rowe expects a certain level of self-reflection and commitment to growth from her audience.  As she notes in the lyrics, “Honesty hurts when you’re getting older.”  Perhaps my favorite touch doesn’t even come from SZA herself, but her mother, who is heard at the end of the track giving advice to her daughter.  Essentially, she says that one must commit to whatever feels true in life, because the alternative is a complete abyss.  I couldn’t agree more.

12. Litany – “Bedroom” I may have noted the Caribbean influences on “Oh Devil,” but you can practically smell the jerk spices on this gorgeous electronic track from English duo Litany.  Made up of Beth Cornell on vocals and Jake Nicolaides producing, the 23-year-olds from North Yorkshire have nailed the atmosphere on “Bedroom,” employing steel drums, synths, and a steady, consistent beat that buries itself inside your head for days to come.  As the track progresses, Nicolaides plays with the beat and the production more and more, adding percussive texture and - dare I even say it? - crunch to the arrangement.  Cornell’s vocals are ethereal, giving the song a hazy vibe, which add to the symbolic lyrics that seem to tie the titular bedroom to the paradise implied from the production. All of it combines to create an experience of escapism, fleeing the monotony of everyday life and conversations about the weather for the idyllic bedroom.  For such young artists with only a handful of releases under their belts, the production on “Bedroom” is stunning in its professionalism.

11. Bayonne – “Fallss” I know, I know... another electronic song. Another track that effortlessly builds with synths, drum loops, and vocals, and captures your attention almost immediately.  But with a song this strong, can you even blame me for including it?  Austin-based artist Bayonne (legal name Roger Sellers) insists he’s not a DJ.  He grew up obsessed with Eric Clapton and his guitar from the age of three on, and his first concert was Phil Collins at the ripe old age of nine.  Clearly he learned guitar and drums from two of the best musicians of the last half century, but I doubt you’ll hear their influences on “Fallss.”  Sellers isn’t a DJ, but he uses a lot of the same tools, including mixers, pedals, and keyboards, to create his massive pop tracks.  The sounds he’s working with here rise and evolve and build throughout the song, as the layers of synth and other sonic strands slowly weave together, worming their way into your head. Sellers spoke to the lyrical meaning of the song, noting that it came from the huge life transition of being in his late-20s and starting to transition to music as a full time career.  To quote him directly, “It's the bittersweet ride that comes with big changes in life.”  We’ve all been through it the past few years, and the last six months alone have included, personally, a new job and moving across the country.  Trust me, this song was keeping me company the entire time.

[lunarmoonacnh]

i was tagged by the amazing @unhugme

Rules: Once you have been tagged you are supposed to write 92 truths about yourself. At the end, choose 25 people to tag!

THE LAST… 1. Drink: diet coke

2. Phone call: my mum

3. Text message: my best friend telling him goodnight 

4. Song you listened to: Michael Jackson - Pretty Young Thing bc it was on the radio 

5. Time you cried: like last night or the night before coz it was 2am and life

HAVE YOU EVER… 6. Dated someone twice: ive barely even dated someone once lmao

7. Been cheated on: yup...

8. Kissed someone and regretted it: no i dont think so

9. Lost someone special: yes, my great grandpa

10. Been depressed: yes, im currently seeing a therapist 

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: yes! every time i drink unless its wine, for some reason wine doesnt make me sick. i think its because i once totally over did it on spirits and cider so not they just taste like the time i almost died and my body cant take it

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLORS:

12. grey

13. mint green

14. blush pink

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU… 15. Made new friends: yes, i started college so i made new irl friends because of that and i have also mad new internet friends through this blog 

16. Fallen out of love: kinda, depends how you look at it. i didnt know i had fallen out of love until the relationship had ended and i didnt feel as sad as i thought i would

17. Laughed until you cried: always, when i’m with my friends all i do is cry laugh 

18. Found out someone was talking about you: yes, it happens a lot, sometimes negative and sometimes positive 

19. Met someone who changed you: yes, for good and bad. 

20. Found out who your true friends are: yes, once i left school i knew who my real friends are because they are the ones who kept in touch and the ones who didnt do other things that they knew would hurt me

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: yess

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: most, i dont know them all personally but i know of them all, no strangers for me

23. Do you have any pets: not at my house but we are getting our little puppy Sully in 14 days. i do have a cat and a dog at my dads house but i very rarely go visit 

24. Do you want to change your name: no, i used to want to when i was a kid because i used to get bullied because i had a ‘boys’ name (Billie) but now i like it because its unique  

25. What did you do for your last birthday: met my friends that i met on the internet that are now irl friends for a meal and to go shopping. we went for pizza and bowling and then shopping before they had to leave again:(

26. What time did you wake up: usually between 8am and 9am without an alarm 

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: i think i was actually sleeping for once if not i was watching youtube videos

28. Name something you cannot wait for: to get my puppy and to meet up with and have a party with my internet/irl friends again in summer

29. When was the last time you saw your mother: like 15 minuets ago befroe i came upstairs to do this

30. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life: i wish i could control my anxiety and depression or even not have it at all. i also wish my dad would pay me more attention and want to see me more because i miss him and its almost like he forgets i was his first kind before he mt his new wife

31. What are you listening to right now: the 1975

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: i mean i have a cousin name Thomas? but never someone just called Tom without it being shortened 

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: life? no but like the fact that im not allowing myself to do the things i want to do out of pure fear

34. Most visited website: Tumblr of course... it is never off my browser 

35. Elementary: ive honestly never wanted to go back to a time in my life more than i want to go back to elementary/primary school 

36. High School: no thanks to that. i wish i could have been one of the people that called it the best years of their lives not 5 years of asshole bullying me 

37. College/university: im commenting on this as England college (16-18 year olds) and ive just dropped out of one part (sixth from) where i was taking 3 subjects Media studies and Film studies which i loved and will miss and Psychology wich i did love but wont miss because i couldnt do it and it made my anxiety sky rocket. in september i start a makeup course and i am so excieted to be a qualified makeup artist this time next year

38. Hair colour: mousy brown

39. Long or short hair: long, like almost to my butt long (yes its natural)

40. Do you have a crush on someone: yes, but i could never pursue it bc he is my friend and i wouldnt want to ruin that. ive made that mistake with my ex.

41. What do you like about yourself: my eyes. they are grey and kinda ombre like they hae a really dark ring on the outside and they get lighter closer to my pupil

42. Piercings: yes, my first and second lobes on both ears, my helix and forward helix on my left ear. half way up my ear and my rook on my right ear and then my nose 

43. Blood type: i have no idea, do people actually know this?

44. Nickname: Bil and B although i dont like B (pronounced like Bee) but its what my cousins have called my since i was really small so it doesnt bother me that much with them 

45. Relationship status: extremely single

46. Zodiac sign: Aquarius 

47. Pronouns: she/her

48. Favourite TV show: pretty little liars, it has just finished and now i am re watching it to find clues about A that i missed 

49. Tattoos: no, but i have a couple planned 

50. Right or left hand: right

FIRST… 51. Surgery: teeth removed they are the only ops ive ever had and will ever have to have touch wood

52. Piercing: ears

54. Sport: i danced as a majorette does that count?

55. Vacation: i honestly have no idea, i think i went to Devon though (its a place in the UK) all i know is my first holiday was during 9/11 

56. Pair of trainers: probably like Nike Airs or something Adidas i have no idea 

57. Eating: i actually know this bc my older cousin fed me a wham bar (a british, i think, chewy candy thing) when i was 3 week old, so i could have died the ifrst time i hate lmao

58. Drinking: i was 14, i know i shouldnt have been drinking because my mum made me promise her i wouldnt, but i remember being so drunk (idk if it was real or faked tbh) on alcopop thats right 4% alcohol and i probs had like 3 

59. I’m about to: go get my cousins baby off his Nan so she can get his older brother from nursery

60. Listening to: idk if this is like asking the same as earlier? coz if so t]still the 1975

61. Waiting for: my friend to reply to me an tell me when he is taking me for coffee 

62. Want: my dog

63. Get married: probs idk

64. Career: i dont have one rn but hopefully a makeup artist

YOUR TYPE… 65. Hugs or kisses: rn hugs i need to hug someone while i fall to sleep so bad its been so long 

66. Lips or eyes: eyes

67. Shorter or taller: taller bc im also tall so i need someone taller than me (i dont need but i like a partner to be tall)

68. Older or younger: older, people y age are immature so any younger and i may as well spend my time with a 10 year old

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: i dont mind tbh

71. Sensitive or loud: both? not too loud though ya girl has sensitive ears 

72. Hook up or relationship: relationship, im demisexual (it took me 17 years to figure that out) so hook ups aren’t my thing

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: it depends because i tend to be the cause of arguments and things because im honest but im not out there to cause trouble i just dont like to lie

HAVE YOU EVER… 74. Kissed a stranger?: no

75. Drank hard liquor?: yes, dont do it, its bad kids

76. Lost glasses contact/lenses: yes, i lose my glasses all the goddamn time

77. Turned someone down: yes, i always feel bad but you cant force feelings

78. Sex on first date: nope

79. Broken someone’s heart: not that i know of, i doubt it though

80. Had your heart broken: yes, again not fun

81. Been arrested: nooo

82. Cried when someone died: yes

83. Fallen for a friend: yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN… 84. Yourself: not always

85. Miracles: yes, the baby i spoke about earlier? yeah hes my miracle, he was born with a new strain of meningitis, he has had 3 lots of brain surgery (at a week old) and the doctors said it was a very low chance he would survive. he did 3 times. his heart also stopped 3 times, again he is here. he also had multiple surgeries on his joints, we got told he wouldnt walk but here he is at 16 months running around like a crazy person and loving life with his older brother  

86. Love at first sight: i mean no, how can you fall in love with someone based off their face (no matter how many cute people you see on the street that you think you love, you probably dont)

87. Santa Claus: hes real in my house

88. Kiss on the first date: ive never been on a proper date so

89. Angels: yeah, i really love t believe in thse things because its cute

OTHER… 90. Current best friend’s name: im not saying their name coz idk if thats a good idea tbh

91. Eye colour: greyyy

92. Favourite movie: Tim Burtons Alice in Wonderland i just love his aesthetic and the story of Alice so put them together and you have a winner

ok i dont have 25 people to tag but i do tag @theflowerkingdom @kinkylildanny @creepyphantasia @imjustacanforallthephantrash and @dead-nightingale 

if you are reading this and you want to do it, go for it and just say i tagged you!

[drawingsanddrabbles]

Joke’s On You

chapter three: Hit List

betaed by @ilovebeingintroverted

links

After Tim had gone shopping for the tools he was missing he saddled up his pants and jacket. Tim then made a list of Gothamites he was going to look up.

1.       Catwoman

2.       The Penguin

3.       Commissioner Gordon

4.       Vicki Vale

5.       Harley Quinn

These people were intimately connected to Gotham, if he wanted to know anything about what had happened in the last five years since he died they would know. Tim paused as he read the list over. His pencil hovered over paper, itching to write out a name. Tim couldn’t help himself.  He had to check in on him.

6.       Alfred Pennyworth

Next he dressed in his new uniform. He stared at the domino mask (his only impulse buy) before stuffing it in one of his numerous pockets. Then he placed the mask over his head. He took one last look in the mirror, recognizing his new look. The Red Hood. Tim ripped his latest list out of the notebook and stuffed it into his jacket. Then he glanced at his watch. Nine fifty two PM. Time to go.

When he ran across Gotham he felt wind whip around his uniform. He couldn’t feel it through his rather overgrown hair because of the mask, he missed that. He took out a grappling hook when he got to the end of the part of town he was in and shot it out, it wound around a piece of iron holding up a gargoyle and Tim swung. For the first time in years he swung. God, he had missed that. He landed on the gargoyle and unhooked his grapple before firing it again and then swinging once more. It was almost as good as flying.

When he finally crossed downtown he went straight to the first name on his list. Selina Kyle’s.

Selina Kyle smiled as she pet her black cat. The cat purred and rubbed its head against Selina’s leather glove. Selina used one of her claws to scratch under the cat’s chin. Tim slipped open her window and she jumped backwards, claws out.

“I’m not here to hurt you Selina, I just want to talk.” Tim said as he slipped out of the night air and into her apartment.

“How do you know my name?” Selina’s cat hissed at Tim. Tim glared at it and it licked a paw, deciding that it had said its piece and now wished to ignore him.

“I know your address; why wouldn’t I know your name?”

“How do you know my address, then?”

Tim sighed. “Look, Selina that’s not really importan-“ Selina pounced, and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. Tim blocked Selina’s punch and grabbed her wrist. He slammed her front into the closest wall and sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you Selina.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem that way to me.” It was the grim smile that slithered onto Selina’s lips that made Tim release her.

“Ew, Selina. Just… ew.”

Selina frowned. “Do I know you?”

Tim barked a laugh. “Well, my voice has changed a little.” Tim slipped the hood off his face. “Recognize me now?”

“No.”

Tim sighed. He didn’t want to have to do this but… Tim stuffed a hand in his pocket and Selina flexed her claws. “Just getting a clue…” Tim told her, but Selina didn’t relax. Tim slipped on the domino mask and grinned. “Remember me now?”

“No… Robin-? But you’re not Rob—you’re…” Tim watched as Selina’s brain figured out what was happening. She laughed. “I can’t believe you’re alive. Batman is going to kill you. You know he went ballistic when you died. Bad day for him. Bad day for all of us.”

“I know. Selina, I need you to help me. Tell me about the new Robin.”

“What about him?”

“Is he… is he good?”

“He’s… different. Playful. Not like you or your older brother. How is ‘Wing by the way?”

“Still too young for you.”

Selina grinned. “Your father figure’s more my type. But the new one he’s raw, he smells like the street.  Not high class like you two. He has the accent too. But he’s good.”

“Street?” Tim frowned.

“Yeah.” She must have sensed his confusion because she asked, “are you okay there, ex-Robin?”

“Yeah. Fine. Look, Selina I should go-“

“Does Batman know?”

“What?”

“Batman. Does he know you’re alive?” Selina asked. She removed her mask and began removing her gloves. She was showing Tim that she was letting her guard down. Trying to get him to lower his.

Tim crossed his arms. “No. And you won’t tell him.”

“Why not?” Selina asked, fingers running down her cat’s back.

“He won’t believe you.” Tim came up with.

Selina smiled before kissing the black feline’s head. “That is true. But tell me, if you aren’t going to tell him you’re alive then what are you going to do?”

Tim didn’t respond. Selina walked into her kitchen to get something. “You know,” she called from the room, “I’ve been thinking of getting myself a little protégé.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “And you’re offering me the job?”

Selina walked back in and cracked open a bottle of water. “Well I don’t see why not. You already have training, I could get you all dolled up in leather, with long diamond tipped claws… A mini-whip. Or maybe you’d like another weapon.” Selina took a sip of the water. She licked her lips. “A staff might look good on you…”

“I’m not a petty thief, Selina.”

“Nothing ‘petty’ about it.” Selina took another swig. “Imagine the reveal! You and Batsy on a rooftop, and a batarang slices your mask and goggles off. His eyes widen as he recognizes you and you say something clever before jumping off the edge and into an endless crowd. When he rushes to the border he can’t find you.”

“You have weird fantasies.”

Selina snapped her fingers. “They could call you Catlad!”

“That’s even worse than Robin.”

“Speaking of which, what’s your new moniker? Unless, of course, you’re going to go by your real name.”

“Nice try, Selina, but why would I tell you that?”

“We’re villains, kid. We share. That’s how the Gotham underworld works, we share, we network.”

Network, huh? “I’m not a villain.”

“Really?” Selina snorted. “Sorry, with the whole faking-your-death thing and the getting-recon-on-the-local-heroes thing, I figured you had switched sides.”

Switched sides. “Does killing the Joker count as switching sides?”

Selina frowned. “What are you talking about, Kid?”

“Never mind.” Tim walked to the window. “See you around Selina.”

“See you around… Not-Robin?”

“Just call me Red Hood.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Says Catwoman.”

“Touché, Hood.”

Tim slipped out onto the fire escape. “The offer still stands, kitten.” Selina called out to him.

“Somehow, I think I’ll manage as Red Hood. Thanks again Selina.” And just like that he was gone. Selina shook her head, Batman taught him well.

The Iceberg Lounge was completely overdone in Tim’s mind. Tim thumbed through an accounts book at Oswald Cobblepot’s desk. The Penguin’s office went with the theme of the club, behind doors the color of ice a lavish black chair sat at an ice colored desk. A TV was hung across from the desk, the only thing on the walls. Tim put his feet on the desk and put down the accounts book, there was nothing interesting in it. No one who he could use. Tim began opening drawers and searched through them for a remote.

The click of a gun was what made Tim look up. “What are you doing in my chair?” Cobblepot asked.

“Looking for the remote.” Tim responded. “Do you have Netflix?”

“I would advise you to stand up very slowly with your hands in the air. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for information. I bet you are too. Want to know how I got in here?” Tim asked with a smirk. The Penguin narrowed his eyes. “You have really bad firewalls, and really lazy guards. I took them both out easily. I told you, now you tell me: who runs Gotham? Who has been in the big leagues for the past five years?”

The Penguin frowned slightly. He lowered his gun. “Smart.” Tim complimented.

“Get out of my chair.” Oswald snapped.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

“Get out of my chair.” Tim stood and Oswald waddled over to the desk. “No one.”

“What?”

“I said no one. No one has been ruling Gotham, not recently.”

“That’s a lie. Someone’s always ruling Gotham City.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Red Hood. Spread the word. Now, tell me the truth.”

Oswald snorted and sat in his chair. “The Red Hood is already taken, try Dead Hood. Because that’s what you’ll be if you try to work your way into the big leagues, kid.”

“I know Red Hood is already taken. I’m being ironic.”

Oswald frowned. “Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it. You’re good. In fact, if this is an audition-“

“It isn’t.”

“-I’ll hire you. But you aren’t ready.”

“Humor me.”

“I, of course, handle finances for my clients. Catwoman is Gotham’s resident crook, Poison Ivy the resident eco-terrorist, Scarecrow scares people to death, and the Joker… well you know the Joker if you’re taking his name. But for drugs and weapons, Gotham goes to the Black Mask.”

“Thank you.” Tim turned to the ice doors to leave. He then sighed. “Oswald, please put down the gun. Shooting a man in the back is a little rude.”

Tim watched Oswald’s reflection in the ice doors and the Penguin put down the gun. “You sound like the Bat.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

As Tim walked out the doors, winding through the glacier themed halls of the Lounge, he took out his list in his pocket and a pen. He added a name to the paper.

7.       Black Mask

He struck off The Penguin’s name and he folded the paper back up, stuffing it into one of his pockets. He glanced at his watch: eleven ten. He wondered if the Commish was still up.

As it turned out, he wasn’t. Tim sat on Commissioner Gordon’s fire escape staring at him in what was probably a stalker-ish way. The Commissioner lay on his bed, alone. His wife had died recently, if Tim remembered correctly. He looked so stressed, even in sleep. He had deep lines on his face and his body seemed tensed; a hand clenched around the corner of the pillow next to his head. Tim felt bad for the man, head of Gotham’s police department yet nothing ever changed crime-wise here. And he was such a good man too. Tim even considered letting him sleep through the night. Going to the next name on the list and letting the poor Commissioner have a moment of rest.

But then Tim remembered what had happened to him, then he remembered what had happened to Steph. His mind invented her reaction. In his mind’s eye he saw the Joker raise his gun, he saw Stephanie’s blue eyes widen behind her mask and then the loud bang! Only this time the Joker’s gun wasn’t a novelty one, this time it was real. And Stephanie’s Kevlar didn’t protect her this time. Tim felt his hands shake again. His stomach churned in his belly and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Deep calming breaths, that was all he needed. When he felt the nausea pass he opened his eyes. He placed a hand down on the decaying metal rail, tightening it into a fist to stop the quaking. Deep calming breaths.

Here goes nothing.

Tim jimmied open the window and slid into the room as quietly as he could. He looked at the Commissioner, still sleeping soundly. He must have had a really tough day (that was the only type of day Gotham ever had).

“Jim.” Tim whispered, nudging the officer slightly. “Jim...”

The Commissioner jumped up from his sleeping position, gun in hand (did he keep one under his pillow? Good man). Tim raised his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.” He told the other man softly.

“Who the hell are you and why the hell are you in my house?”

“Don’t want to know how I got in?” Tim asked. Jim Gordon cocked the gun. Ohhhkay, no joking.

“You have five seconds before I shoot you.”

“Jim,”

“One.”

“You don’t want,”

“Two.”

“To do this.”

“Three.”

“I can’t believe you,”

“Four.”

“Don’t recognize me.”

“Five.” Then the Commish paused. “Why would I recognize you?”

Tim shrugged. Dammit, I shouldn’t have said that! Tim was thankful for the mask, which hid his sudden ‘oop’ facial expression. “Because we’ve met before.”

“Did I shoot you before?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Did I count to five already?”

“Please, Jim. There’s no one in all of Gotham who could help me more than you right now.” That was a lie, but what did Jim know.

“So you break into my house?”

“Really? I’m wearing a mask and I’m in Gotham. Are you surprised?”

Jim didn’t answer.

“Jim, please. Put down the gun.”

“I feel safer like this.”

“Fine, but at least hear me out.” The Commissioner hadn’t shot Tim yet so he figured he could talk. “I need to know what happened to Batgirl.”

“Nothing has happened to Batgirl.”

“The old one. And before you tell me to look it up, I have. I need to know what happened out of the report. I need to know what happened to the Bat.”

“Why? So you can take him down?”

“No!” Jim narrowed his eyes as the desperateness in Tim’s voice. “Please, Jim. Tell me what happened.”

“She got shot.”

“There’s more than that Jim, there’s more than that and you know it. I need to know it too.”

Jim frowned. Tim could see the gears turning in his head. Tim watched as Jim’s trigger finger tensed and then he heard footsteps. Slight, but there. There was a gasp, and both the Commissioner and Tim looked at the door. A little redheaded girl stood there, eyes wide as she looked from her father to Tim.

“Daddy? What’s going on?”

“Daddy’s just talking to a friend. Why are you up? It’s past your bedtime.” Jim said, eyes snapping back to Tim.

Tim couldn’t believe how much she’d grown in the five years he was gone. She had to be… what? Seven, now? “I wanted a drink of water.”

“Honey, you just had a drink of water.” Jim argued.

“I need to pee.”

“Fine. Go to the bathroom, Babs, but then straight to sleep.”

“Fine…” Babs mumbled. Before she walked away she glanced at Tim. “Hey Mister Vigilante, you better leave. Mister Batman doesn’t like other heroes in his city. That’s why Superman is never here.”

“Vigilante is a big word, how do you know it?” Tim asked. Jim glared at Tim but did nothing.

“My Daddy taught it to me. Also you should do as he says. He’s very good at shooting people.”

“Babs, go to bed.”

“But I gotta pee.”

Tim couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. James Gordon sighed. Barbara Gordon smiled at Tim before waving and walking the rest of the way down the hall.

“She’s cute.” Tim complimented.

“If I ever see you near her I will castrate you.” Like you’d even know I was there.

“How do you even know I have balls?”

“Really?” The look on Commissioner Gordon’s face almost made Tim want to laugh again, but he held back.

“Batgirl?” Tim prompted.

“Joker did what he always did, and she got shot. End of story.”

“Jim.”

“She was protecting someone… a child. The Joker was going to kill the girl and she offered herself up in the child’s place. He had Batgirl with her back facing to him, arm around her neck, gun to her back. Three shots in the same spot to the lower spine. Pierced right through the Kevlar.”

“And,” Tim took a breath trying to hide the voice crack. His vision changed automatically, now there were more gunshots, he could see their faces from the front. The Joker’s bloody grin and Steph’s blue eyes… “After?”

“She fell. Batman ran to her. The Joker got away. We never saw her again.”

“Not even you?”

“Not even me.”

“Th-thank you, Jim.”

“You-you said I knew you.” Jim mumbles when Tim backs out of his room, eyes never leaving the armed Commissioner. “Who-?”

“Sorry, Jim. Gotta leave some secrets to myself.” And Tim was gone.

Vicki Vale, Gotham’s finest investigative reporter, was still awake and working. Tim snorted, if this whole killing-the-Joker-thing didn’t work out maybe he could get paid for prying into Bruce’s other nightlife like Vale. Red hair pulled into a messy bun, a steaming cup of coffee on her desk, Vicki Vale was deep in her work. She stood and walked to the other side of the room, chewing on a pencil eraser. The wall she stared at had what looked like a large Murder Board, papers strung together with yarn, markers, post-its. Tim wondered who she was chasing.

Vicki’s lips moved and it took Tim a minute to realize that he was blown. I can see you. Tim watched as she turned towards the floor to ceiling windows and opened one. “Come on in, Batman.”

She thought he was Batman. She turned around again and continued to stare at the Murder Board. Tim swung into the room, as light on his feet as possible. “I actually expected you a little earlier. You know, this Black Mask guy might be my Lex Luth-“

“Black Mask, huh?”

Vicki Vale jumped, turning around. “You’re-you’re not Batman.”

“What gave me away? Was it the non-grumpy exterior?”

“Who-why are you here?” She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Eyes hard, chest puffed out. She wasn’t afraid. She was confident.

“Who? Call me Red Hood, and as to why? I wanted to ask you something…”

Vicki Vale raised a manicured eyebrow. “Shoot.”

Bang. “The Joker, what do you know?”

“About him?” Vale snorted. “Anything you can ask me about, and you ask about the Clown?”

“All I need from you.”

Vale frowned. “Hmm…” She mused. “How about a trade? Tell me why and I’ll tell you what’s he’s been up to.”

“Think of it this way, whatever you tell me will determine the biggest story of the decade.”

“… Will determine what about the biggest story of the decade?”

“Whether or not the story exists. Now spill.”

“I get first dibs on this story.”

“Miss Vale, if this all goes right I won’t be able to tell it to you. But Batman will.”

Vicki Vale narrowed her eyes. “This… do you think this will cause you to die Red Hood?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I intend to follow it through. Spill.”

“I don’t know where he is, if that’s what you’re asking. You’ll probably want to go to his girlfriend for that. But I have heard that something big is coming, the Joker doesn’t just break out of his comfy Arkham jail cell for nothing. He has something planned and it’s going to be as big as poisoning the water, as big as shooting Batgirl, as big as killing Robin.” Vale spoke like she was writing. The tones she spoke with were almost lyrical.

“And you have no clue what it is he’s planning?”

“Nah. Not that informed.”

“Well, thank you.” Tim turned to leave.

“Red Hood?” Vale asked before he swung out the window. “Why did you chose the Joker’s old moniker?”

“You’re an investigative reporter. You figure it out.”

Sunrise. Tim’s second in Gotham since his revival. He could get used to this. After a few minutes he shook himself from the awestruck gaze of the morning and began searching for a coffee shop. Villains didn’t vanish when the sun went up.

He looked at the last three names on his list:

               5. Harley Quinn

               6. Alfred Pennyworth

               7. Black Mask

Tim hummed as he shoved a pastry in his mouth. He kept forgetting to eat, that was problematic when organizing an assassination. He should set a reminder or something. Tim hesitated a second before scratching out the last two names and switching them. He could save Alfred for later.

Now… how would someone go about finding Harley Quinn?

“Harley Quinn? Who the hell is Harley Quinn?”

Talia tossed the newspaper at Tim’s feet. Tim stared at the picture under the Gotham Gazette headline; a woman wielded a mallet larger than her over her shoulder. Her masked white face was split into a maniac grin. The costume she wore was split down the middle, red and black. The sections alternated as they went down and red colored diamonds decorated her black shoulder.

“The poor girl was seduced by the Joker.” Talia told him as she stretched, loosening her muscles. “I hope you will not fall into the same trap.”

Tim snorted. “Please, the Joker is the last Gotham villain I would sleep with.”

“Stand.” Talia ordered. Tim tossed the paper and stood. Talia attacked.

Tim paid and decided to start at the bottom. First he set a program to find any mention of Harley Quinn within the last hour, his phone began buzzing like crazy and it took him a moment to scan through them. None mentioned where she was, mainly just memes. Tim stuffed his phone into his pocket and went to the next step.

The first drug dealer he found knew nothing, but he did helpfully point Tim to his superior who in turn (with a little incentive) told Tim that he didn’t know anything about Harley Quinn but hey, Poison Ivy was in town recently and she had been seen around Harley, why didn’t Tim check the Botanical Gardens which had recently closed down?

Tim thanked him and started towards the center of downtown, where the Botanical Gardens were. Tim raised his eyebrows when two masked bandits ran by.

Really?

Tim heard the nearest bank alarm go off and he ducked into an alley and slipped on his helmet, turning in the direction of the bandits. This would be fun. Tim ran them down, sirens beginning to blare in the distance. They didn’t have a getaway driver and they were in the middle of the city, either they were extremely stupid or they had another escape route. Only when Tim followed their dust into a dead-end alley did he realize their escape plan.

And Tim had been sewer-free for six months...

Grudgingly, Tim slipped open the manhole cover in the alley way and climbed down onto the dry path next to the pungent stream of shit water.

“Aw, c’mon! It’s day, the Bat ain’t gonna show!” Tim heard the echo of one of the bandits.

“Dude, it’s the Bat. He’ll show up at the hideout.”

“We’re in the clear, dude!” Tim hedged around the corner to see two unmasked bank robbers. The two of them were dividing up money into small bags they must have stashed here.

“Not quite.”

One of them jumped, dropped his bag and money spilled out. “Shit! I knew we was gonna get caught!”

“Dude, do you see a Batsymbol on him?” The other asked him.

“Robin don’t have a Batsymbol.”

“Yeah, but Robin’s Robin.”

Tim snorted. Couldn’t have said it better myself. “You two sound like a married couple.”

“We are!” The upset one chirped. He waggled an ungloved finger with a ring on it.

The other nudged him. “Dude!”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Tim said, grinning behind his mask. “You haven’t lost any cool points for being married.” They shared a loving look and Tim sighed. “But you’re both going to jail.” Tim took out a pair of handcuffs. “You have five seconds to surrender.” He told the happy couple.

“Yeah, right.” The over-confident one said.

Tim sighed. It didn’t have to be this way. The fight wasn’t much of a fight, but more of a they-tried-to-attack-him-with-a-bat-and-Tim-took-it-away-and-bopped-them-on-the-head-until-they-submitted-to-being-cuffed. Tim refilled the bank bags with money and grabbed the chain on the handcuffs. The married couple grumbled.

“I told ya we’d get caught.”

“I was trying to be romantic, okay? Plus, he ain’t a Bat. So you were wrong.”

“Really? Calling me wrong? That really the best idea right now?”

Ah, young love.

Tim dragged them out to the first police precinct he saw and handed them off to the first uniform he saw. Then he handed the rookie’s partner the money. “The bank robbers from about thirty minutes ago.”

Both rookies seemed a little speechless so Tim left them to their duties. After checking for a tail for a couple blocks he took off his helmet and found himself a street away from the Botanical Gardens. Cool.

Tim scaled the fence, and dropped into gated gardens. Tim slipped his mask back on now that he was out of the public’s eye. He looked around, he’d been here once with Bruce and they’d spent the entire day learning about plants. In Bruce’s defense it was technically Robin training, the more that Tim learned about plants the safer it was for him to fight Ivy. It made sense that she would set up camp here, but Tim couldn’t help but see the cliché-ness of it.

“Yooo hooo. Ivy? Anyone home?” Tim called. He walked through the rows of plants. Here were a bunch of lilies, water and non, some roses, some different type of palms…

Something wrapped around Tim’s leg. Tim tugged on the vine gently. This climber had no fruit or flowers on it, but it did have hand-size green leaves. Tim prayed it wasn’t poisonous and took out a knife from his jacket. He moved towards the vine and the vine shrunk back, as if afraid of the knife. Huh.

“Listen,” Tim told the plant. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you don’t let go of me, I won’t have a choice.”

The plant stayed there for a second, as if thinking, before retreating. Tim thanked the plant. Ivy had created sentient flora, that was… spectacular! Tim wondered how she did it, when she did it.

“Who are you?” He heard someone purr. And it wasn’t Selina, fancy that.

“Name’s Hood. Red Hood. Pamala, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

“Pamala…”

“Isley? You know, like your name?”

“I know my name, Hood.”

“Can I ask you some questions?” Tim repeated, turning around.

The redheaded eco-terrorist pet one of her plants. “Okay.”

“Harley Quinn. Where is she?”

“Why?”

“I need to ask her something.”

Ivy frowned. “She doesn’t need another man in her life. The last one wasn’t so kind and she still isn’t over him.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I need her, Isley. I want her to tell me where the Joker is.”

“Why? So you can weird him out with hero-worship? It’s not his style, you know.”

“I thought I was being cryptic, but apparently not well enough.” Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. “I want to kill the Joker, Ivy. So tell me where the only person who can lead me to him in the world is.”

Ivy chewed her berry-red lips. “You want to kill the Joker?” She asked.

Tim didn’t respond. He just held her gaze.

Those rose-colored lips curled into a grin and seemed only a little too insane for Tim’s taste. “I haven’t heard from her in a while, but I can tell you where she probably is. She has an apartment from before the Joker. It’s officially abandoned but every now and then she goes back there. 19th and 92nd. Number twenty-two, apartment one.”

“Thank you, Pamala.”

“Hey Hood? Kill him for her. Kill him for me too, but mainly, kill him for her.”

“Isley, I’m killing him for everyone.”

Harley’s apartment was small. Tim hesitantly knocked on the door. The door swung open and a blonde girl in pigtails with a white tank top that professed PENNYWISE IN THE STREETS, HARLEIQUIN IN THE SHEETS poked her head out.

“Harley Quinn, I presume?”

She popped her bubble gum. “That’s Doc-tah Harley Quinn to ya. Who are ya, anywho?” She popped her gum again.

“Sorry.” Right, she used to be a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum before her spiral into mass murder-hood. “Doctor. Can I ask you a question?”

The blonde hummed. “Sure. Is it medical? Want me to look at a wart? ‘Cuz y’know y’have a big red one on your face.” She pointed to Tim’s helmet and Tim crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m looking for the Joker. Do you know where he is?”

Harley shook her head. “Uh-uh. I ain’t with him anymore. We’re broken up for good this time.”

“This time?”

“Yeah. Finally got sick of it, y’know. A gal can only take so much.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“Nah.”

“Do you know what he’s planning?”

“Uh-uh.”

“So you’re no help at all.”

Harley popped her gum. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, thanks anyway.”

“Hey! How’d ya find me?”

“Poison Ivy. You know, you should really give her a call. She cares about you a lot.”

Harley smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah. She does. It’s nice, ain’t it? Havin’ someone care.”

Yeah. It probably is.

Tim stared at his list. Five down, two to go. There were two ways to get to every crimelord: get their attention, or do business with them. Doing business with them was actually much harder to manufacture than getting their attention, doing business had to deal with things like money and relied heavily on how much weight your name carried. Tim’s moniker carried no weight yet, only about seven people knew that the Red Hood had been revived.

So getting the Black Mask’s attention it was. Tim heard his stomach growl and he walked into a café to eat and began planning. It took Tim a half hour to find his first Black Mask dealer. It took Tim another hour to find one of Black Mask’s lieutenants. They were all in the hospital by five pm, each with varying degrees of broken bones. Attached to the last one (a dickwad who Tim had found organizing new locations to start selling whatever he was trying to hook the local kids on) was a note addressed to the Black Mask.

9 PM

Crime Alley

When Tim arrived at eight forty five to scope out the alley he was pleasantly surprised to see armed guards strolling the block. So Black Mask wasn’t stupid, well Tim couldn’t win all of his battles. Tim waited silently on the rooftop he was on for another fifteen minutes, a black stretch limousine pulled up at the head of the street and Tim rolled his eyes behind his mask. The man himself stepped out of the car, bodyguards on all four sides. To the right of him stood a man with a clipboard, probably armed to the gills.

Black Mask quickly surveyed the area before crossing his arms over his chest. “You called?” He asked.

Tim swung down from roof the building he stood on, and sighed as every goon in sight pointed a gun at him. “Really?”

No one spoke.

“I feel much safer talking without lethal weapons pointing at my head.”

“I feel much safer talking with lethal weapons pointing at your head.”

Fine. “So it’s going to be that way, huh?”

“Who are you?”

“Red Hood.”

Black Mask seemed disinterested.

“It took me less than half a day to incapacitate your narcotics lieutenants.” Tim added.

“What do you want?”

“Information. What do you know about the Joker?”

“Nothing. I’m new to town.”

“Five years new? I don’t want old stuff. I want now. Where is he? What’s he planning?”

“I told you, I don’t know. And even if I did, why would I tell you?”

“Wow. You are new to town, Mask. Didn’t you know that Gotham villains network?”

Tim was sure that Black Mask was giving him a particularly threatening glare, but he looked kind of idiotic with a Halloween mask on. Then again, this was Gotham.

“I don’t know.” Black Mask repeated, his voice stony.

“Fine. I also came here to warn you, I’ll be operating in Gotham and I will be operating in your turf. If you or any of your men get in my way, I will kill them without a second thought. I won’t be here for long. But I will be here for a while.”

“Why the forewarning, Hood?”

“I’m nice like that.” Black Mask didn’t seem impressed. “That’s it.” Tim said when no one spoke. “You can go home now.”

“Or I could kill you.”

“I took out a good amount of your organization in half a day. Imagine what I could do to targets that I didn’t have to track down and a surplus of guns.”

“But you don’t have the guns.” One of the goons pointed out in a very hostile way.

Tim snorted. “Yet.”

Black Mask nodded, slowly. He held up a hand, and turned to the man to his right with the clipboard. “Let’s go, Mr. Li.”

The man beside Black Mask nodded and nudged his head sharply in the direction of the car, telling the goons to follow.

Huh. Well that was easier than expected.

Tim checked his list over again even though it was unnecessary. He knew who the next and final person on the list was.

He just wasn’t able to admit to himself that he was terrified to look in on him.

Tim found himself at the Manor in what seemed like a time ellipse, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there, but he knew he had done it. He stood outside the gate awkwardly before he left, he couldn’t do it. Not now. Not yet.

Later.

On his way back to the hotel he was staying at he crossed off the final name.

Tim stared at the bed. He didn’t want to sleep (he never did), after all, he’d slept while he was dead. So he did what he always did when he wanted to ignore a bodily need (even before his death), he opened his computer and began typing.

By the time the sun had come up, Tim had done what had taken years of deductive work the first time around in just the few hours between when he got home and sunrise. Then again, this was his second time through, and he was a better detective now than ever.

He only discovered one name, but that was all he needed. He wasn’t interested in the girl anyway. The name burned in his mind, his mouth itched to say it. To spread the word, because Tim Drake, once again, figured out the identity of the Boy Wonder: Robin. Only this time, it wasn’t Damian Wayne.

Tim allowed himself the smallest of victories.

“Jason Todd.”

[actuualtrashh]

Do them all (:

These are a lot but come off anon!! And thanks for the ask!! :D

1. Last kiss- ex bf

2. Last phone call-my good ol’ pals last night 💞

3. Last text message- my friend tim letting him know that our class got cancelled bc he never checks his emails lol

4. Last song you listened to- I make boys cry by adult mom

5. Last time you cried-umm… yesterday

HAVE YOU EVER:

6. Dated someone twice-yea

7. Been cheated on-lol yea

8. Self harmed-uhh, yea…

9. Lost someone special-yeaaaaa

10. Been depressed-yeeasds

11. Been drunk and threw up-nope… I’ll drink but not a huge fan

THIS YEAR HAVE YOU:

12. had sex-noppeeee

13. How many people have you had sex with this year?-zero

15. Made a new friend-yes! I love making new friends 😁

17. Laughed until you cried-yeaaaaa

18. Met someone who changed you-yup

19. Found out who your true friends were-yes! And I’m glad I did!!

20. Found out someone was talking about you-yes, good and bad but idrc

26. What did you do for your last Birthday- yesterday was my birthday and literally did nothing. Actually, I worked and got a lot of shit at work bc the people I work with are really immature and don’t know how to be serious. And my parents were working too so

27. What time did you wake up today-6:00 am

29. Name something you CANNOT wait for-at the moment I have nothing but I guess you can say… payday lol

30. Last time you saw your all of your siblings at the same time- well I have two of them, an older sister who I see like three times a year and my brother who lives with me… so I guess I saw them both a year ago? Like Christmas or something? Idk

31. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life-my high school and middle school experience

32. What are you listening to right now- Heart Tattoo by Joyce Manor

33. When is the last time you had sex?-I am a v

34. Who’s getting on your nerves right now-my goddammm self

35. Most visited webpage-my canvas for school lol

36. Favorite colour-purple, blue and plum

37. Nicknames-deedee :-)

38. Relationship Status- 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

39. Zodiac sign- Taurus

40. Male or female-female

41. Primary school-I went to 2.

42. Secondary School-a magnet/charter school that focused on math, science, and technology.

43. High school/college-I went to school like 5 mins away from the beach for high school even though I live 18 miles away from the school and it was a charter school. For college I go to cc that’s 12 miles away from my house lol

44. Eye color-brown

46. Height- 5"2 :-(

47. Do you have a crush on someone-maybe

48. What do you like about yourself-sometimes I’m really nice and I love being nice bc I believe in karma but this is also my weakness

49. Piercings-I have my ears pierced but I don’t wear earrings lol

50. Tattoos-I want some but atm I don’t have any

51. Righty or lefty-Righty but I can draw w my left and I can also write with my left but it takes a little time. I always wanted to be a lefty bc I thought it was cool so in middle school I practiced writing with my left so I’m not that bad at it now :-)))

FIRSTS:

53. First piercing- ears when I was like 1 or 2 years old lol

54. First best friend-I don’t remember … yikes

55. First hookup-never!

56. First Bestfriend- can’t remember

RIGHT NOW:

59. Eating- nope but I’m v hungry

60. Drinking- I just finished a small cup of coffee

61. I’m about to- finish this post and take a nap in my car because my class was cancelled smh

62. Listening to-Blonde hair, black lungs by sorority noise

63. Waiting for- my sustainability club to start in 2 hrs

YOUR FUTURE:

64. Want kids?-maybe! But in like 10 years or something like that

65. Get married?-maybe?!

66. Career- idk exactly but now I want to study life tbh

WHICH IS BETTER:

67. Lips or eyes-personally, eyes

68. Hugs or kisses-both!!

69. Shorter or taller-taller than me at least

70. Older or Younger-older? Depending on what tho

71. Romantic or spontaneous-both??

72. Nice stomach or nice arms-does it really matter?

73. Sensitive or loud-sensitive

74. Hook-up or relationship-relationship!! I ain’t about the hooking up life bc I’m an emotional person that gets attached too quickly lol yikes

HAVE YOU EVER:

76. Kissed a stranger-no!

77. Drank hard liquor-yes lol

78. Lost glasses/contacts-always! I’ve worn glasses since the 2nd grade and these are probably my 20th pair tbh

79. Had sex-nope

80. Broken someone’s heart-I hate myself bc i think my first bf ever

82. Been arrested-nope

83. Turned someone down-yea

84. Cried when someone died-my grandpa and cousin

85. Fallen for a friend-yeaaaaa

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

86. Yourself-sometimes

87. Miracles-kinda

88. Love at first sight-not really tbh but I have hope lol

89. Heaven-🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

90. Santa Clause-nope

91. Kiss on the first date-depending if the feelings are mutual

92. Angels-yes!

93. How would you label yourself?-an approachable person? Idk?

94. Someone You Pray Everyday For- i don’t really pray

95. Did you sing today-yes, I get lonely while driving alone and being stuck in traffic

96. Who From All Your Ex’s have You Cared The Most About-that’s a secret

97. If you could go back in time, how far would you go?-beginning of middle school!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

98. Out Of Everything In The World What Do You Wish For-to find myself and be happy

99. Are you afraid of falling in love?-🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

100. Do you like the way you look?-nope!

THIS WAS SO LOnG TO ANSWER BUT THANKS FOR THE ASK!! WHO ASKED THIS I WANT TO BE FRIENDSSSSS!!! 💖💞

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1259

Monday, April 29, 2019

 I was at a birthday party for a 7-year-old on the weekend and while I was holding his baby brother I couldn't help but wonder what kind of world will they be living in when they are my age. I worry about their future. The flooding in the National Capital Region is predicted to be worse than it was only two years ago when we had the highest water levels in a century. It's going to exceed that when waters crest in the next couple of days. I can't imagine what property owners are going through trying to save their homes and cottages. I don't understand how some people can deny climate change when the evidence of the harm that we humans have had on the environment is smacking them right in the face. I'm afraid things are going to get worse without it getting any better.

 War of the Realms #2 - Jason Aaron (writer) Russell Dauterman (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This issue has the first major death of a character. Not an A-lister but I will still mourn their passing.

 Spider-Man Life Story #2 The '70s - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Mark Bagley (pencils) Drew Hennessy (inks) Frank D'Armata (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). Now I'm more than convinced that this is a series of what if stories. There are so many deviations from canon in this issue that it's inconceivable that these events are "real". I'm still going to keep reading because these changes are cool.

 Naomi #4 - Brian Michael Bendis & David F. Walker (writers) Jamal Campbell (art) Wes Abbott (letters). Naomi's origin story begins at last. She's not an Earthling.

 Daredevil #4 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Sunny Gho (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). The Punisher and Daredevil have a debate about vigilantism. I like Frank's arguments. Meanwhile, Mayor Kingpin tries to get his hooks into Detective North. I wonder if the bigger man will get to the big man. One thing that bothered me about this issue is that Matt left Frank tied up for the cops. Not very nice since Frank saved his ass from them.

 Thor #12 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mike del Mundo (art) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). "The War of the Lokis" features Loki as he travels down the gullet of his father Laufey. Don't tell me you didn't read the last issue. Get thee hence and do so forthwith.

 West Coast Avengers #10 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Moy R. (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This is the last issue and that makes me have a sad face. I really liked this silly crazy team. If Kelly Thompson ever writes a Kid Omega/Quentin Quire and Gwenpool comic book I will definitely read it.

 Avengers LGY #717: No Road Home #10 - Mark Waid, Jim Zub & Al Ewing (writers) Sean Izaakse (art) Marcio Menyz & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). When this 10-issue weekly started it looked like this was an adventure for Hercules's team of Avengers and it ultimately was. The end result is that the good guys win again and Nyx is defeated. Hercules wasn't the hero of this story and schmaltzy as the way the actual hero wins, it still made me cheer. So all this was so Marvel could revamp the Gods of Olympus and Hercules's costume. I chuckled when they revealed what that house was about. I thought that it was the House of Mystery but that belongs to the Distinguished Competition.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #19.HU - Nick Spencer (writer) Chris Bachalo (pencils) Wayne Faucher, Livesay, Jaime Mendoza, Victor Olazaba, Tim Townsend & Al Vey (inks) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The Lizard is featured in this "Hunted" tie-in. It's nice to see Chris Bachalo's art back on the racks.

 Action Comics #1010 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Steve Epting (art) Brad Anderson (colours) Josh Reed (letters). Leviathan Rises part 4. I like this spy story. Lois and Clark go undercover as Chaz and Andi to find out what Leviathan is. There's a great teaser for an old Checkmate story that had me going there. I would love to see that organisation again. Next issue promises Leviathan Revealed! I can't wait.

 The Avant-Guards #4 - Carly Usdin (writer) Noah Hayes (art) Rebecca Nalty (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). I like this rom-com centered around an arts college basketball team. It reminds me of a lighter "The L Word".

 Black Widow #4 - Jen & Sylvia Soska (writers) Flaviano (art) Veronica Gandini (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). There's a double-cross that surprised me and a cliffhanger ending that makes waiting for the next issue torture. Appropriate for a story where Nat takes down an extremely violent website.

 Doctor Strange #13 - Mark Waid (writer) Barry Kitson (pencils) Scott Koblish & Scott Hanna (inks) Brian Reber (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Herald Supreme part 2. I liked the surprise guest star.

 Hulkverines #3 - Greg Pak (writer) Ario Anindito (art) Morry Hollowell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Okay, this Hulkverine, Hulk and Wolverine team-up was fun but the end made me roll my eyes and groan big time. Ugh.

 Ironheart #5 - Eve L. Ewing (writer) Luciano Vecchio (art) Geoffo (layouts) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This issue finishes the first story arc involving the super villain Midnight's Fire. It was good enough that I enjoyed what I read but not good enough to make me keep this book on my "must read" list. I wish RiRi well. I was excited by an ad for a new Black Cat comic book coming out in June though.

 Thanos #1 - Tini Howard (writer) Ariel Olivetti (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). This 6-issue story will tell us how Gamora came to be adopted by Thanos. I only picked this up because I really like Ariel Olivetti's art. I don't care much for the two main characters so I might not continue with the rest. Fans of Thanos and Gamora will enjoy this I'm sure.

 Runaways #20 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Andres Genolet (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). I found this issue to be a big drag. The last page is too depressing for words. Plus the new artist didn't wow me. Something needs to happen next issue for me to want to keep reading.

 War of the Realms: The Punisher #1 - Gerry Duggan (writer) Marcelo Ferreira (pencils) Roberto Poggi (inks) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). It's Frank versus Dark Elves and Frost Giants. They won't know what hit them. This is typical Punisher fare for those into explosive action. Frank leads a band of ex-cons armed with swords through the Lincoln Tunnel to help evacuate a hospital to safety. I miss reading a good Punisher story so this is a welcome sight on the racks.

 War of the Realms: War Scrolls #1 - This anthology book has four short stories all lettered by VC's Joe Sabino.

 "The God Without Fear part 1" by Jason Aaron (writer) Andrea Sorrentino (art) & Matthew Wilson (colours) features Daredevil fighting in Hell's Kitchen.

 "The Warriors Three (Or Four)" by Josh Trujillo (writer) Ricardo Lopez Ortiz (art) Felipe Sobreiro (colours) features Fandral, Hogun and Hildegarde filling in for the unconscious Volstagg teaming up with Cloak and Dagger.

 "Nice Shot, Frank" by Ram V (writer) Cafu (art) Brian Reber (colours) has the Punisher and Wolverine doing what they do best.

 "Waugh of the Realms" by Chip Zdarsky (writer) Joe Quinones (art) Joe Rivera (ink assist) Rico Renzi (colours) has Howard "The Duck" Duckson hired to find a lost dog. This last one was gross.

 This is for fans who want to collect ALL the War of the Realms comic books. Otherwise you can probably give it a pass.

 Batman #69 - Tom King (writer) Yanick Paquette (art) Nathan Fairbairn (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). Knightmares finale. This issue is called "The Last Dance" and I don't know what song Batman and Catwoman are dancing to but I am singing the Etta James ballad "At Last" in my head. After many issues of dream sequences Batman is going to finally awaken. I did appreciate the explanation of how he got into his predicament. Now it's time to deal with Bane and Bruce's "father".

 Blossoms 666 #3 - Cullen Bunn (writer) Laura Braga (art) Matt Herms (colours) Jack Morelli (letters). One of the three Blossoms is going to become the anti-christ. Yeah, you heard me. Cheryl and Jason were born as triplets. Their older brother Julian was whisked away at birth by the Order of Abaddon. Ooo, scary.

 Ascender #1 - Jeff Lemire (writer) Dustin Nguyen (art) Steve Wands (letters). I never did finish reading Descender so I don't know if this is a sequel but it really looked familiar. I didn't feel like I was missing anything in this new story and I liked the mix of magic and technology. The villain reminded me of Emperor Palpatine but her empire is all based on magic. The hero is a spunky girl named Mila and I want to see where she goes from here.

 Guardians of the Galaxy #4 - Donny Cates (writer) Geoff Shaw (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). The good guys find Gamora, followed by the bad guys. Expect to see a big battle. The main reason I'm reading this book again is because Groot is talking in whole sentences now.

 Detective Comics #1002 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Brad Walker (pencils) Andrew Hennessy (inks) Nathan Fairbairn (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). Don't believe the hype. It's not a "duel to the death with Arkham Knight" but it is a pretty good fight. I was happy to see Damian play a bigger role in this issue. I'm sticking around for the bad guy's origin story.

 Fantastic Four #9 - Dan Slott (writer) Aaron Kuder, Stefano Caselli & Paco Medina (art) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The FF escape, Galactus is freed and Doctor Doom's power mad plans are thwarted. Boy that was fun. I hope they don't leave Aunt Petunia's before telling us about Franklin's new friend Wendy.

 Dial H for Hero #2 - Sam Humphries (writer) Joe Quinones (art) Jordan Gibson (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Seems like the H-Dial is a drug with lots of addicts looking for a fix. The potential for zany super powers is huge. I liked how they introduced the good versus evil theme in this issue.

 Avengers #18/LGY #718 - Jason Aaron (writer) Ed McGuinness (pencils) Mark Morales (inks) Justin Ponsor (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Not an Avenger in sight this whole issue but you've got an Agent Coulson controlled Squadron Supreme instead. What made me groan a little was the big villain reveal at the end. I hope it's not a convenient deus ex machina.

 Heroes in Crisis #8 - Tom King (writer) Mitch Gerads (art pages 1, 6-20) Ryan Sook (art pages 2-5) Mitch Gerads (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). I still don't see the ;point of this story with one issue left. I think the killer confesses here but I'm not sure. I'm waiting for the consequences to hit the fan and hope something is resolved in the last issue.

 The Amazing Spider-Man #20 - Nick Spencer (writer) Humberto Ramos (pencils) Victor Olazaba (inks) Edgar Delgado & Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Hunted part 4. A surprise twist turns the tables giving Spider-Man even more incentive to confront Kraven. Meanwhile the son turns on the father as Kraven's son joins the hunt.

 The Superior Spider-Man #5 - Christos Gage (writer) Mike Hawthorne (pencils) Wade von Grawbadger & Andy Owens (inks) Jordie Bellaire (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). I don't know who created the super villain Master Pandemonium but they must have been on crack. This guy has demons for arms and a hole in his stomach that's a gateway to hell. Time for Doctor Octopus to call in a consult. The team-up with Doctor Strange is a clash of science and magic. Let's see who's the better doctor.

 Miles Morales: Spider-Man #5 - Saladin Ahmed (writer) Javier Garron (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Speculator alert! It's the first appearance of a new super hero.  Too bad they're named after unwelcome guests to our bird feeders. It's gang wars across Brooklyn and Miles is trying to prevent the death of innocent victims. The surprise appearance  happens when Miles goes to confront Tombstone about his incursions into other gangs' territories. I noticed some changes in Miles this issue that didn't appeal to me. I think he's acting way too confident and macho now. His maturing has happened way too fast and might turn me off the character. If the art wasn't so impressive I might bench this book now.

 Spider-Man City at War #2 - Dennis "Hopeless" Hallum (writer) Michele Bandini (art) David Curiel (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I get a kick from noting the differences between these Gamerverse versions and the MU versions. This issue features Miles Morales and I prefer this Miles to the one in the comic book that I just finished. Peter and Miles meet for the first time but it's not in a friendly neighbourhood.

[aramkrikorian-blog]

10-9-2018

waking up. tired. rain. rain on the boots. the boots are torn. shoes. are wet. leather shoes. uncomfortable shoes. comfortable shoes. the daily walk. walking in uncomfortable shoes. ears clogged. not sick. ears jammed up. sticking fingers into ears with toilet paper when in the bathroom. library. salvation army. need to take a piss. need to take a shit. bathrooms. looking for bathrooms. embarassed. look like shit. haven’t showered in a bit. lighters are dead. no flame for cigarettes. the rain. it ruins the cigarette shorts i collect off the ground. talking to myself. not really. lots of people doing real life following. they want me to participate in interactive games with the audience. im not a star. im not taylor swift. she shouldn’t do politics yet. she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. democrats. republicans. green party. lame . parties. people. birthdays. rain. dogs. leashes. masters. slaves. negative conditioning. positive associations. flashbacks. larissa. lory. jessica. ashkhen. hasmig. who and what happened and where am i. did the babies really get aborted. are people messing with my mind. the information. is it true. not true. ears clogged. i can barely hear sarcastic remarks. god is watching over it all. proverbs. Better to live in a desert than with a quarrelsome and nagging wife. peacock in the desert. seattle. pike street. pike market. prospect park. GAR cemetary. ducks. weird tattoo store. weird tattoo aesthetic. cornish college. security guards. smoking cigarettes. asking for cigarettes. not comfortable. SEATAC. orcas. the oceans. pier 70. pier 66. starbucks. starbucks reserve. st james church. gospel mission. millinair club. tweakers. not that many. many or not. not known. know nobody. alone. thoughts. suicide. Virginia Mason hospital. lutheran church. food. food under the bridge. housing help. library on 4th street. newspapers. news. 90 minutes of internet time. homeless resource guide. backpack stolen. all work gone. no more work to look over. wanted a house on frontenac. didn’t get it. went to ferrari dealership - you say you’re a gangsta but you never popped nothing. you’re a real wanksta. songs. curses. nirvana. cause i’ve found god - rethinking what i said about kurt cobain. he is dangerously not well in Lithium. sounds llike the psychiatrists put pills in him and he blew his brains out or heroine or the pain of his wife... she breaks mirrors. weird flashbacks. lorys brother was administerered lithium wh en i was administered seroquel. psychopharma DEATH TOLL. bodies keep stacking. kurt cobain. lithium. lake washington blvd - curt cobains house. i didn’t know. i did a free navigation of the city. i felt things, bro. now i regret what i said about kurt cobain. lady was wearing a nirvana song list tshirt. bruce lee and brandon lee’s graves. crows. bible... scarecrows. 3-6 mafia lord infamous used to call me scaRECROW what is this... where am i. same motifs. same symbols. used by different people at different times. 1 big symbolic soup. trying to make sense of it. untangle it. which came first the word crow or pigeon. beautiful pigeons. appearance of pigeons in ones timeline over time. typing in the library. ‘the kind of kind guy that won’t take no for an answer’ - wanting to buy a house on frontenanc and give it to brent and tim ... tim gave me an umbrella. brent hooked it up with cigarettes - lighter. they were good guys. lyft people circling around. feel guilt and shame resentment everywhere. saved by the dell poster. PRIVATE PROPERTY everywhere - including the seattle sports stadium ... safeco field? seahawks lose to larams - kendrick lamar. lemurians of mt shasta. greyhound... buses. the animals. a great dane takes a fat piss on 700 7th ave...  the courthouse night, doing a speech. finding weed on ground smoking it. speaking at the school ... getting more weed. fed a larabar. ara. ara gets funding again in march. rosenstein is out? cohen is out? melania is in africa - visits a former slave in ghana. beautiful work. thank you mr and mrs trump. kushner? scooby dooby doo. airbnb ... valuations. memories. pains. people. upgrades and promotions. growth. new ideas. scholarships. college. essays. schools. making sure the kids are going to be safe. at least putting a line on the older ones and going to go back and ensure the road is well paved for the younger ones. newspaper room 6th floor. bathrooms on floor 7 of library also on floor 1... and maybe on 3 and 4.. .but not sure. haven’t been higher than floor 7 as far as i recall. lady in front of library - obese with lighter and cigarette - i ask her for a light she says “why are you chasing me?” - not a question. it is a question. it is something inside of a question. an accusation. a false accusation. a controversial, extremely controversial false accusation. it implies more. profile equivalent of a stalker. im not a stalker. a chaser. but i will become one if she wants me to. if the shoe fits ill wear it. or ill just wear it once and throw it away anyway. copy and paste this text and put it into a text to speech application and just listen to it ... let me know if it sounds good. borrow phrases from it. let it brainwash you. because it’s all real. really really really really real. kim and kanye. blessings. armenians. what the heck. little children in library walking around... happy looking. global warming. will it kill all the little children that look so innocent to my eye. and to my eye the world looks ok. but to the instruments... they’re reading something else. that’s how gas kills doesn’t it... it didn’t smell. it just killed. mount olympia. sculpture garden at the pier has a lot of gardners but a lot more dog shit. its impossible to sit in the grass. there was SO MUCH dog shit there. mcdonalds sued for a million dollars. dont do it. all these ridiculous articles on Medium. i joined medium but i cant even press a button to write. ridiculous. double daniels. daniel lives here. so does erin treg. ill try to not mention too many names i guess. maybe they can comment on posts and take them out. fuck ilya golub. fuck olga. fuck all those people. nikolai and m8s and ara and etc etc. let them live their lives but these are weenie people. someone should keep a permanent weenie hat on their heads. stop stuffing dicks into everyones head aram. stop it. note to self. exercise more discipline in the language that i use. lockwood... he was an author who blew his braINS OUT. but he was typing like an animal in the family garage. he released a book. i wish one day i can get back to literature reading again. i miss pynchon. i miss delillo. did they write any new books. are they still alive? im going to check google right now and trust the answer. dellilo alive. i heard roth died. 5-22-2018. wow . the number 22. number of hebrew characters in the alphabet. the number of arab league countries. 22 is a heptagonal number. which means 7 sided polygon number. who knows what that means. its just important. who knows. philip roth died on 5 - 22 - 2018. wow. i miss his work. american paradise or something or portnoy’s complaint. who was that guy. i remember being in oregon 4 years ago and digging deep into literature. is my brother dead? did shant eat a heroine shot? people on the bus were saying weird things. is my father dead? i don’t even know. i remember jolie writing things on the wall. like prophecy that turned into reality. maybe the whole thing was a joke. the name. keith. she used names. she said things. JR JR JR> what is JR.. it’s on the inside of larissa lip . who knows. maybe real or not. nick. wtf. heroine. fresno. people talking to me. gangs this that. greatful dead family. where are we. what is this. acid. meth. heroine. crack brillo pads. what is all this. what happened. where is everyone. dope shooters. not a lot of people left around - “ Cage The Elephant - Shake Me Down - YouTube “ urban dictionary. JR> some caring guy. larissa’s boyfriend. hope they’re still together. been talking out loud to her. sometimes i feel her. saw a lookalike of Lory. or i actually saw lory. maybe when larissa and i were in santa cruz.. we were being watched and played for fools. she kept saying she saw nicole. the aramark logo. the mark from seattle. the people out there. here. chris while. erin triggie. daniel ex of jessica. who knows what people do. say. where am i. what has happened to me. how am i homeless. what is this. what happened to me. i used to be an OG. lol. what am i now. can i even handle it. unlikely candidate. why do people even half respect me. what is going on. scholarships. colleges. high school kids applying for colleges. stanford early application this year is november 1... and the regular is january 2. i remember 2004 applying for fafsa and all that. scholarships. this that. getting accepted. man. SAT scores are still going. its insane how out of touch you get despite trying hardest to stay in touch. eventually the kids evict you themselves. couple library rats tried to trade me bluetooth headset for some molly in front of library and for some crystal. i said no to both. i saw mad guy tweaking dancing fuckin hard at millionair club today - i looked at him and said “brother i love you so i dont want to see you here, like this, ok?” - where is HOMIE RESCUE TEAM - what are we going to do? should we just laugh at this guy. should we just let him die off. should we kill him? what do you think? i have to read news... china and america. usa. and china. and korea. and russia. and some games and calm down and 110 billion dollar pump into USA. turkey and saudi arabia ... and pushing and shoving and ghana and america visits and angola 500 million president running to london who knows... where are we.. like flies buzzing around on The Blue Marble. what happened to sitting at home and enjoying one another in peace. where is my wife. why do i call her my wife. im forgiving people. im rescuing people. im saying im going to quit cigarettes. people look so shady. they look so protective over their assets. ive lost more than i think or know or can count or i dont know whats going on. 

i wanted a ferrari 812 a portofino i saw was pretty i like the color rosso and i wanted a 488 spider and a home on frontenac and i wanted a powerboat like 70 footer or 77′ and i wanted to go to bahamas or caribbean and have sex with my wife and procreate and have children and relax and sleep and rest and have a home on 18 acres in snoquamish and all that stuff and have a Dodge ram 2500 

just read about Satyrs for the first time. rams and satyrs and greece and dionysus and debauchery and Pan and apollo and challenging gods and losing and winning and secretive & lustful and wanting to fuck and permanent erection (piss boner) - very interesting. 

also very interesting is the PT Barnum effect ... basically .. .have you ever had a boner? have you ever wanted to have sex with many women? have you ever flirted with a woman? h ave you ever challenged someone bigger than your own size (like David?) - who knows. Ram. Aram. Random Access Memory. bighorn ram. it was in a shooting game i played on hunting game on computer a long time ago. 

gods .. shoot downs. being destroyed. FLAYED Alive. the Flaying of Tarsus. hubris. arrogance. humility. cold. hot. 

there is this fucking idiot laughing in the library. this fucking tool idiot. he is in the library and he laughs like a clown. i wish joe pesci were here so he can jam and smash on the guy. but he’s not so if i do it. in front of the cameras. it will pr;obably get me into some sort of toruble. who knows. anyway. 

iris murdoch. philip roth. thomas pynchon. all these people. time passes. pynchon delillo still alive still kicking. 

birth days were the worst days. slowly getting over the doldrums. what is it called. weighing yourself down . idioms. expressions. the power of idioms. lists of idioms. lists of ethnic slurs. lists of sociological terms. lists of profiling terms. lists of lists. endless lists of words and referrents and objects and feelings. 

Jimmy hendrix park seattle. the numbered avenues. Ballard. the draw bridges. the seaplanes. the boeing. the SAM . art museum. the fountains. the trees and parks. the lake washington. the lake union. the puget sound. the alaskan viaduct project. 4 months. all the little pieces of seattle. the 4 seasons. the goldfinch bar. the bars. the loyal inn. mark matthews park. he was a presbyterian minister. here we are. some guy still laughing so i told him to shut up bro that hes fucking annoying. then another guy joins in... he does a little goat laugh. so i fucken do a sheep laugh too. fuck these guys. play whack a mole all day. 

seattle is amazing. minus these idiots in it. can someone genocide them. or get rid of their bodies tonight and feed them to the orcas k25 and k13 ? .. k13 is dead. k25 is getting skinny. 

The latest official count is 77 orcas among the three pods. That reflects the death of K-13, a 45-year old female named Skagit.

the count of orcas is 77 orcas. i wanted a 77 or 70 foot yacht. i wanted to call it Septuagint. there are al ot of 7s in the bible. 

oh Gosh. oh man. david reigned for 7 years 6 months. 76. 67.  6s and 7s. 42s. wow. and 7 male descendants of Saul hung before the lord. 7s. the 7 times 77 forgiveness.. yesterday the sevenfold punishments in leviticus. i like stuff like this alot. 

7 for all mankind - i remember such days. the time is 12:12 Pm on 10/9/2018. 

who knows these things ... the Lord is playing on all tracks concurrently. im less annoyed. i see all these defective personas in one day. i dont know why. but its getting better. people getting chin checked. a lot of people getting tagged. 

the rats are getting smashed on worldwide. Meng. etc etc. interpol. this that. internationally. locally, domestically. the Great Awakenings. when we enter into slumbers and turn into zombies turn into psychic vampires. we need to clean the algae every once in a while or else there’s just bodies and piles of bodies of humans. we dont really care about the dead of the past. we really dont’ give a shit or dedicate any time to remembering or researching the dead of the past. a list of wars by death toll. largest natural disasters by death toll. 

to have faith. to try to pray to God. to say im not here to destroy the catholic church. people say and come up with the worst and weirdest things. if you can only see this writing post you will see i hop around so many places. 

a poison dart frog, a dog, a porcupine, a snake, a cow - i’ve been compared to such animals. after a while all the terms of endearment eventually get to me.. its annoying its not cute. people speak they did the worst things to me and im pretty done for trying to recover. maybe i will maybe i wont maybe someone will kill me or ill magically die.. it wont matter - i see that kurt cobain and bruce and brandon and jimmi hendrix theryre all dead and the stars are all dead the “stars” ... revelation says 

Revelation 6:13 and the stars of the sky fell to the earth, like unripe figs

and the woman and the dragon and the red dragon ... and ir ead revelation and imagined myself as satan last year but i dont think so. i think the others are satan becasue they twisted my brains in and out.. and i cant wait for the rest of revelation to be carried out so that i can witness the end of the world. im very tired of how twisted and disgusting things have become.. im not just angry or wrathful.. i would like to actually see the end of the world... i would like to see Jesus im going to try and be ok until that happens. .. and its so sad that people are just.. .its so sad. 

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation+12&version=NKJV

love, 

aram krikorian

[heartsofstrangers]

What has been one of the most challenging things that you have experienced, or are currently experiencing?

“Almost two years ago, I got HIV. That was interesting. I’m definitely healthy, I’m fine. I have great care. I’m at one of the greatest places to be for that. I remember when I got it, I was like, fuck, this stereotype. I am this gay guy from Connecticut who moves to San Francisco and gets HIV. I was instantly thinking, what are people going to think of me? I feel like a total cliché.

“That was at first. It’s scary. I should have gotten tested more, but it’s scary to get tested. You don’t want to have it, and that fear keeps people away from doing the right thing. You should just not let that fear of being safe or getting tested. You shouldn’t let that deter you from these things that are free—resources and education.

“I remember I was tested because I wasn’t feeling well. I thought, ‘Oh, what if I have HIV?’ That was always my fear when I felt sick. I was really bad about getting tested. I was about to go home to surprise my brother, Tim, for his birthday in March a few years ago. I was going to meet this guy, this friend of mine from New York. I was really excited to reach out to him again. He said, ‘Let’s get together. You can stay at my place.’

“I thought, ‘Great; we’re going to hook up. I haven’t seen him in years. I am successful now, I’m really excited.’ So I got tested. So there was the rapid test and that was negative and I thought, ‘Oh, I’m fine.’ I forgot about the RA test. Then I got home, and they called. It was the first day I was there, or the second day. They said, ‘We just want to go over some results with you’—I was tested for STDs too—and I was like, uh. I thought, I have some STD. And they said, ‘Yeah, we can’t say anything over the phone.’

‘I said, ‘Well, I’m away and I’m not going to be back until next week.’ So he said, ‘Okay, let me go get your chart.’ Then he said, ‘Paul, you have HIV.’ Or actually he said, ‘Your RA test is reactive.’ He didn’t say you have HIV. So I said, ‘What do you mean? Do I have HIV?’ and he said, ‘Yeah.’ I was instantly like ‘fuck’ in my head. And my dad was upstairs. So I made an appointment for right when I got back and I said, ‘I appreciate it, but I just have to get off the phone because I need to talk to someone.’ And he said, ‘Well, I’m going to call you back later to check on you.’ Because they’re not supposed to tell you over the phone, or they shouldn’t –ethically.

“So I went upstairs and told my dad. I didn’t cry or anything. He was very silent, but supportive, like, ‘Okay, all right.’ I was just like, ‘Fuck.’ I just remember thinking, I had an ex that got it after we were together, and he reached out to me when he got it. And I was there through the whole process, going to the doctor. But he just went down a very dark path. I remember trying to keep him positive, especially when you learn about things like being undetectable. It’s almost like remission for HIV, and it’s so hard for someone else to get it when you’re in that level of care. I learned all of these things from him, and all these experiences, and trying to be positive for him.

“Then, when I got it, I instantly heard myself, those positive voices coming back to me. I thought no, I don’t want to go down a dark path. I have so much support, and I have come so far in my life on my own—depression and anxiety and battling all of that stuff. I said, ‘I am not going to let this drag me down. Obviously I’ll have hard times, but I’m not going to let it take me down.’

“Then my other brother was in town. So he came over and I told him, because we were going to surprise Tim that night for his birthday. And my brother Brendan was like, ‘Dude, you’re going to be fine, in this day and age.’ He was really supportive and I thought, ‘Should we still surprise Tim? I don’t know what to do about surprising Tim.’ So I told family members. Everyone was very supportive.

“But coming back to the city, it was hard. Because I came back and I did all of that stuff alone. The blood work. It was all free. It was a great clinic, which was super because I didn’t have insurance at that time. But they tried to push me to get Obamacare. There are all of these great resources for even getting your premiums paid. Every state has that, but the states have to choose if they want to take that money or not. I don’t know how it’s established in other places. It was great. I was so blown away by the care.

“So I wasn’t really worried about my health because it’s really manageable. The hardest part was having to date, and be open about it with people. That was the most difficult part. That’s what I was most scared of. Even simple hooking up, like being on Grindr. I have to say to people, ‘Well, I’m positive.’ And they completely stop talking to you. Or people are honest and just say, ‘Hey, I’m not into that.’ And that’s cool. That was really scary.

“But my experiences dating have been really, really good actually. Here, people are like, ‘Oh, that’s fine. I’m on PREP.’ And they understand what it means to be undetectable. Again, it’s really hard for me to pass it on to someone else. Even without protection.

“I’m at a point now where I don’t really think about it. That was a struggle for a while. But I’m seeing someone now long-distance, and he doesn’t have a problem with it. I feel really comfortable about it. But the most amazing part was that night that I found out I had it. We had a great dinner, I told him, and everyone was emotional. I didn’t cry at all when I was home and did all of that. But I remember that night, all the plans. My eyes were closed. And you know how you have the days ahead or the weeks ahead in your head, like your schedule and your life? The path I thought I was going on was completely going away. I just saw this new kind of road. It was so interesting. It was a really spiritual experience. It wasn’t bad or good. It was all those plans I thought I would have kind of faded away and there was just something totally new. I was rethinking my life.

“I think a lot of people who get some sort of illness or whatever, if that streak of positive hits them, they think, ‘I have to live my life now.’ It’s really cliché, but that’s kind of how I felt. I’ve got to be better about my health. So I really got a positive boost in the beginning. But I had some hard times, too.”

How did you get through the hard times, the low points?

“I just reached out. It was interesting. Talking. People were very supportive, too. I told my two immediate bosses right away, and they were so supportive. Being able to pull them into a room and cry and talk about what was going on. Being able to have that is really, really good, especially at work. Just feeling like, I’m really having a hard time today.

“Reaching out has been the best. Talking about it. It’s weird. I don’t really think about it anymore. I don’t wake up and think, oh I have HIV. The only time I think about is when I’m taking my pills in the morning. The only thing that makes it real again is when I have to go to the doctor about once every three months. Just getting some regular tests done. Or dealing with fucking insurance bullshit. That was the biggest event here.”

How has it changed your life, or changed you?

“It added a new layer to things. My outlook, the decisions I make in terms of being healthy. Because living in a city like this where there is such a big gay scene, there’s just so much carelessness with drugs and with sex, and decision-making in terms of lifestyle. That has definitely changed.

“I have friends who don’t have it who lead that kind of lifestyle still. And I just say, ‘Be careful, be safe.’ We’re in such a supportive city for it, it’s nice. And I think about the care I receive. I got treated right away, and the statistic is only like only 20 or 30 percent of people with HIV in the US get that kind of care. Then you think about the rest of the world. People get AIDS and there’s no care. There’s bad prevention and education. I have it good.

“I think about how life is short. Recently I think a lot about the mortality of life. Not in a depressing way, but like, wow, my parents are old now. I have this virus and who knows what care will be in the future. Who knows what it is doing to my body and what things will be like when I am older. Life is fucking short. Unless I’m going to shave my head and be a monk and just focus on being enlightened—we don’t live in that kind of society. I have my passions in other stuff. But I always try to find balance. I think, ‘What am I complaining about? What am I freaking out about? What am I upset about? Everything is fine.’ And that’s a good lesson for anyone with anxiety. And for anyone. If you’re just stressing out, you can take a step back and say, ‘My life if not in danger.’

“If you’re living life like me, working at a great company, if I find myself stressing out about something, I try to take a step back and say, ‘Everything is fine.’ Getting HIV was a reminder that you just need to enjoy your life, make the best of it, make good decisions and take it from there. There’s still a lot of taboo. There are still a lot of people who don’t know anything about it and are freaked out about it. There are these times when I want to make an inspiring post about having it and dealing with it, and I still don’t do it. I think, ‘Why do I want to make this post? Am I looking for attention? Am I trying to inform people?’ There’s still part of me that doesn’t want to do it because I don’t know how everyone is going to react.”

Was there ever a fear that people might judge you?

“Oh yeah. Absolutely. I don’t really think about it anymore or care about telling anyone. In the beginning, I just kept thinking that cliché, like, ‘Fuck. Gay guy from Connecticut moves to a big city with a gay life and has HIV.’ That really messed with me for a little bit.”

Have you been able to find support here in the city?

“Yeah, totally. I go to a really good clinic, and all of my friends know about it. And I have a few other friends who have HIV. My ex who has it, we’re really close friends and we can relate to each other about it. Dating and stuff. Some people are like, ‘How do you tell people?’ If I’m going to date someone, I just want to get it out and over with instead of waiting to tell someone at the last minute. Because then I’ll never know what the deal is.”

What advice would you give someone else who is struggling with this issue?

“Depending on who you are, there are a ton of resources. If you are not getting good care, just look online. Take advantage of whatever free care you can get, because it’s all there. Just be healthy. I find it’s also good to just educate people, like your friends. If you hear someone talking about it, and they don’t really know what they’re talking about, just be polite and say, ‘Oh, it’s actually like this.’ Keep people educated. Everyone I’ve told that I’ve had it, I’ve said, ‘You can always ask me any questions you want to. You can check in on me too and ask how I am doing.’

“I know a lot of people who don’t have good . . . if you don’t have a good family structure that is supportive of it, or friends. Well, if you don’t have friends who support you, just try to educate them, and if you can’t, just move on. Try to find people who will support you. Find support if you don’t have it on that basic level in terms of friends and family, because otherwise, it’s just going to be really, really hard. Change your surroundings. Because there are tons of people who are supportive and have no problem with it. You’re not carrying the plague or something.”

You mentioned depression and anxiety. How do you balance that?

“I exercise and I eat right. Well, I eat right, but you’re allowed to splurge. Yeah, exercise is super helpful for me. I run a lot and I do the gym. But it’s proven that if you are getting exercise, like twenty to thirty minutes five times a week, it’s super helpful to your mental health. It’s super important.

“If you’re anxious and depressed, stay away from drugs and alcohol. Or you can treat yourself to alcohol a couple times a week, but stay away from things that are going to influence your behavior and change your thinking. It’s just going to make shit worse, especially if you are in a streak. You don’t necessarily need to be clean, but at least try to find a balance that works for you. If you are going to smoke pot and drink alcohol, I’m not talking about hard drugs here. Stay away from that shit, because it’s no fun.

“I found a balance. Because everyone smokes pot. I just found a balance with those things that works for me. Balance your life in that kind of way.”

Do you have a favorite quote that you’d like to share?

“Yeah, I’ve had it forever, and it’s simple. It’s just the first thing that comes to my head. ‘Courage is acting with fear, not without it.’”

What does that mean to you personally?

“It’s that shit gets scary. Everyone has anxiety and has fear about stuff, but you just have to move forward. Because even if something is scary, otherwise you’re never going to get past that. It’s never going to get easier. So I always liked that really simple ‘Courage is acting with fear, not without it.’ So it’s like, anything you are going into, depending on what it is, some things might be easy, but some things that you have to do might be scary. Just push through it, because eventually it becomes easier. And you can just move onto the next level of fear. Otherwise, you’re not going to move. You’re just going to be crippled.”

How has it felt to talk about these things with me today?

“It’s good. I kind of have a lump in my throat. I haven’t talked about this stuff in a while.”

Do you think it’s possible that by sharing this with me today, you could be benefiting someone else?

“Yes. Absolutely. It’s always good to hear other people’s stuff. A lot of what we do here is we work with artists from all over; we interview them and we hear their passions. Everyone has something to say, no matter who they are.”

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, April 19

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover

Page 2: Michael Douglas' short-term memory loss and frail frame have wife Catherine Zeta-Jones fearing for her older husband's well-being -- Michael once declared he'd beaten oral cancer, but harsh chemotherapy and radiation treatments have left him a shell of his former self and he has even admitted to suffering memory problems -- he was also affected by the 2020 death of his father Kirk Douglas and he hasn't been the same since his dad died -- this is a guy who cheated death with a horrific cancer ordeal, and he's had other medical issues over the years and some serious domestic dramas that have taken their toll -- Catherine always knew that their age difference would mean her taking care of him one day but she didn't expect it to be so soon

Page 3: Reese Witherspoon has ditched her wedding ring during recent outings, sparking rumors her marriage to Jim Toth is on the ropes but she feels their relationship isn't down for the count and refuses to give up the fight to keep their family together but they may not make it -- the desire to make things work is still there on both sides and they've been able to pull it all together all these years, even with personalities as different as theirs mainly for the sake of their family and they got on each other's nerves while cooped up together during the pandemic, but they don't bicker in public and that's one thing they have going for them

Page 4: Ryan Seacrest creeped out his pals when he gushed over Maria Menounos when she sat in for Kelly Ripa on Live recently -- Ryan thinks Maria is the smartest, most talented and beautiful woman to walk the planet and he can't help but swoon over her but Ryan understands Maria is happily married to TV writer and producer Keven Underago and he'd never cross the line and he doesn't want to date Maria, but he makes no secret he'd be dancing on air to have someone like her, which is kind of creepy, but he can't help it -- Ryan would never make moves on someone else's girl, but he does try to imitate her husband Keven's qualities like how funny and creative and sensible he is and Ryan adores Kelly and thinks she's great but he wouldn't mind if she takes more time off just so he can gaze at Maria

* Miley Cyrus' recent boozy night out with party pals, including British punk rocker Yungblud, has loved ones fearing she's slipping back into dangerous territory -- she was spotted at Hollywood's famous Rainbow Bar & Grill, drinking shots and beer chasers, just months after she admitted to her struggles with addiction and after fellow addiction-challenged singer Demi Lovato announced she was California sober, claiming she was safely able to drink in moderation, Miley didn't see any reason why she couldn't do the same -- her family and sober friends are deeply concerned for Miley's well-being and are begging her to stop drinking now

Page 5: Newly robust Celine Dion has her health back on track following a dangerous few years where she looked like a walking skeleton -- she has beefed up her wraith-like frame by making healthier choices during lockdown -- she went through a rough time of transition after husband Rene Angelil's death and lost a lot of weight, but lockdown has given her a chance to rest and focus on taking care of herself and now she looks 15 to 20 pounds heavier and seems in good spirits and is looking forward to rebooting her Courage World Tour when the pandemic ends

Page 6: Fitness fanatic Tim McGraw is a changed man since he kicked the bottle in 2008, but he's now hooked on working out and sculpting the perfect bod and he's publicly admitted exercise is what gets him flying high but his quest to get ripped to the max is now a 24/7 obsession and he spends hours in the gym and he's already flexing a muscular body most men would die for, but he doesn't want to stop until he's an Adonis and he works out twice or three times a day and packs his diet with energy-boosting smoothies and veggie juices and some might say he's going overboard with the workouts, but Tim craves those feel-good endorphins and he considers his workouts to be fun -- he loves the way he looks and thinks he can do better and he does spend a lot of time in front of the mirror admiring himself and tends to wear tight T-shirts that show off his pecs and six-pack abs, and wife Faith Hill loves the results -- a lot of people say he's traded one addiction for another

Page 7: Nearly six years after their bitter divorce, Miranda Lambert has finally extended an olive branch to ex-husband Blake Shelton, but she's still pretty envious over his professional success with fiancee Gwen Stefani -- last year, Blake and Gwen took home the collaborative video prize at the Country Music Television Awards for their duet Nobody but You, and also scored a Top Ten hit with their single Happy Anywhere and it makes Miranda jealous to see Blake making hay on the charts with Gwen but their success also made Miranda recall Over You, her hit collaboration with Blake, which won Song of the Year at the 2012 Country Music Association Awards and during a recent interview, Miranda affectionately blew kisses toward the camera as she recounted how her ballad with Blake was inspired by his grief over the loss of his older brother; still, Miranda also harbors a competitive streak and said she's angling to transform herself and husband Brendan McLoughlin into entertainment movers and shakers just like Blake and Gwen -- Miranda plans to enroll Brendan in acting school and Miranda wants them to act together and they are looking for scripts to make a television movie and even planning to launch a production company in Nashville and Miranda recognizes the musical chemistry Blake and Gwen share, and she believes she and Brendan can match that success on-screen -- meanwhile, as Blake and Gwen prepare to wed, Miranda is finally in a place where she can wish them well and Miranda carried a lot of animosity toward Blake and Gwen, especially since she suspected they started something before she and Blake split up, but she's very happy with Brendan so maybe all that pain she and Blake went through in ending their marriage was for the best

* Reba McEntire is reaching out to save her friend and former daughter-in-law Kelly Clarkson from suffering through a divorce that eerily mirrors Reba's own breakup -- Kelly split from husband and manager Brandon Blackstock in June 2020, and the divorce battle has them fighting over custody of their two kids as well as Brandon suing her for $1.4 million in unpaid commissions, but Reba has seen this before: Brandon's dad, Narvel Blackstock, dumped her in 2015 after 26 years of marriage, and despite initially agreeing to continue as her manager, dumped her as a client weeks later and Reba knows all too well how petty and conniving Narvel and Brandon can be, and her heart goes out to Kelly -- Kelly admits to Reba there are times when she just wants to run away and hide and Reba tells her to run away to me and it means the world to Kelly to have Reba in her corner -- Narvel and son Brandon head Starstruck Entertainment and are adamant that Kelly owes them big bucks for helping her land both her talk show and a coaching spot on The Voice, but with Reba's help, Kelly is fighting back and Reba learned the hard way the pitfalls of mixing business with family life and she's trying to help Kelly because she hates to see another woman suffer at the hands of a Blackstock

Page 8: Sicko Jeffrey Epstein has been accused of a horrific new litany of abuse by a woman who claims he forced her into unwanted genital surgery, raped her in front of her child and threatened to feed her to alligators -- the woman, identified in court papers as Jane Doe, is suing the late pervert's estate, claiming he and his alleged madam Ghislaine Maxwell, groomed her for their sordid pleasure -- in the suit, she claims Epstein drove her to pick up her 8-year-old son and took them to a lake, where he threatened to feed her to alligators, as had happened to other girls in the past, if she dared to squeal on him -- at the time, the woman said she was 26, but she looked much younger and Epstein told her to say she was 17 and he also arranged for a man with a Russian accent to perform an unnecessary vaginal surgery to pass her off as a virgin to a client and this violent and illegal procedure was botched, leaving her mutilated, in pain, disabled, and permanently sexually dysfunctional

Page 9: Ghislaine Maxwell has been slapped with yet another sex trafficking charge and it's got her former pal Prince Andrew sweating bullets -- the new indictment details how Jeffrey Epstein's alleged madam reportedly groomed a 14-year-old for him, but crucially for Andrew, it expands the time frame of Ghislaine's alleged crimes from 1994 to 2004, a span that includes her meeting the British royal in 1999 and then introducing him to Epstein and that time frame also includes the period in which "sex slave" Virginia Roberts Giuffre claims she slept with Andrew three times, charges he's denied -- the new charge also opens the floodgates on other celebrities, politicians and high-profile figures who were in Epstein's orbit at the time and the new indictment widens the pool for Ghislaine and her defense attorneys because who wouldn't want to bring down all of these fat cats and who wouldn't be that desperate?

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Rumer Willis got to the root of her gardening needs in L.A., Michael B. Jordan and Chante Adams got cozy as they shared a snack while shooting Journal for Jordan in NYC's Central Park, Heidi Klum in L.A., Mario Lopez tossed the ceremonial first dice roll at the opening of the Mohegan Sun Casino in Las Vegas, Christopher Meloni shot his onscreen spouse's funeral scene for Law & Order: Organized Crime

Page 11: Tony Bennett has a secret weapon in his fight against Alzheimer's disease: his close pal and collaborator Lady Gaga -- Susan Crow Benedetto, 54, the wife of the 94-year-old singing legend, has enlisted Gaga to help keep Tony's faculties sharp as he struggles with advancing dementia because Gaga's telephone calls have always helped cheer Tony up and keep him focused and they laugh together, reminisce and sometimes sing and it always puts a smile on Tony's face and it's great therapy -- when asked whether Tony still recognizes the pop star, Susan joked that Gaga is hard to forget -- Gaga has also played a critical role in keeping the aging crooner active and creative by working with him and they plan to release their second album of duets this spring as a follow-up to their 2014 smash hit Cheek to Cheek

* Worried friends feared ailing rock god Ozzy Osbourne is coming unstrung while wife Sharon Osbourne's career goes into a death spiral -- Ozzy has been plagued by crippling illnesses over the years, including Parkinson's disease, and has to walk with the aid of a cane and now he's at wit's end and pushing himself into a danger zone as his wife fights tooth and nail after leaving The Talk amid a racism scandal and Ozzy's been under a great deal of distress over Sharon's problems over at The Talk and he worries and fusses over her and can't focus on anything else and it's left many in his circle very concerned for his health which is fragile enough already -- the bashing Sharon received during the scandal has the aging rocker concerned she may never work again and he'll have to be the breadwinner

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- five years after Angelina Jolie filed for divorce, she's still battling Brad Pitt over custody of their five youngest kids, now she's filed new court documents claiming she has proof of domestic violence against Brad and accusations like these would kill anyone else's career, but not in this case: Hollywood is 100 percent behind Brad and the sense in the industry is Angelina has weaponized the kids against Brad but Brad is very well respected in Hollywood, and most people find these new allegations hard to believe and if anything, Angie is only hurting the children and herself

* Real Housewives stars featured in the upcoming spinoff are cashing in and Bravo will pay Luann de Lesseps, Teresa Giudice and the others a sweet $200,000 for one week's work in Turks and Caicos and that's more than double what the ladies usually get for filming, plus they get a free trip to a tropical island

* American Idol could be on the chopping block because in just seven weeks the show has lost 2 million viewers and it's simple math: Idol cannot survive with its current budget and ABC has two options which are cancel the show or cut costs, which would mean hiring cheaper judges and a cheaper host to replace Ryan Seacrest and both options are being explored

* Britney Spears' beau, personal trainer Sam Asghari, shows off his toned abs in L.A. (picture)

Page 13: Palace insiders fear Prince Harry and Meghan Markle's vendetta against the British monarchy will take a shocking new turn: they'll bankroll a lurid movie about Princess Diana's death and the conspiracy theories that suggest the royal family was involved -- the rights to the movie script are owned by Hollywood producer Ben Browning, who was just hired by Harry and Meghan to run their film company Archewell Productions -- the controversial movie centers on Princess Diana's lover Dodi Fayed's father, former Harrods' boss Mohamed Al-Fayed, investigating his son's death and his belief that Dodi and Diana were murdered because she was pregnant and planning to marry, and The Firm did not want a Muslim in the royal family

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Alabama Shakes drummer Steve Johnson has been busted on charges of willful torture and abuse of a child and was also charged with cruelly beating or otherwise maltreating a child under the age of 18 -- his arrest came just a year after he was slapped with a one-year suspended sentence and two years' probation after pleading guilty to menacing his ex-wife Whitney Lee, who called him mentally unstable -- Johnson helped the Shakes score three Grammys in 2016 for their album Sound & Color but the band has been on hiatus since singer Brittany Howard started a solo career in 2018 and Steve was lost after that; he went from playing in front of 50,000 people to playing in bars again -- even if the Shakes reunite, it's highly unlikely Steve would be invited back -- Steve remains in county jail awaiting his court date and his attorneys said Mr. Johnson maintains his innocence

* Danny Masterson and his lawyers believe they are victims of anti-Scientology bias and cannot get a fair trial in his Los Angeles rape case -- celebrity attorney Tom Mesereau, who successfully defended Michael Jackson against child molestation charges two decades ago, claimed his client has been treated unfairly because of his ties to the church, and that the police or district attorney's office leaked damaging details of the case -- Danny and his lawyers feel persecuted and that everybody in Hollywood who isn't a Scientologist is after them -- LAPD Robbery and Homicide Division Capt. Jonathan Tippet said his organization is keeping a tight lid on all information surrounding the case to ensure Masterson gets a fair trial

Page 16: Mormon church officials are being accused of corporate greed for using members' charitable donations to secretly create a $100 billion tax-free fund -- James Huntsman, the son of a prominent Mormon family, is suing the church for fraud, claiming donations solicited to finance charity work were actually used to fill church coffers -- the church boasts at least 15 million members worldwide, including celebrities like Gladys Knight, Donny and Marie Osmond, Katherine Heigl, Julianne Hough, Christina Aguilera, Ryan Gosling, Amy Adams and Aaron Eckhart and many could have tithed money that ended up in the tax-free fund

Page 17: Jen Shah of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City was recently fingered by the feds as the bogus businesswoman behind a multi-state fraud scheme dating back to 2012 -- the Bravo blowhard, known for her extravagant parties, designer outfits and extensive entourage, and her first assistant Stuart Smith were arrested and charged with conspiracy to commit wire fraud and conspiracy to commit money laundering -- the U.S. Justice Department alleged the Park City resident and Smith of Lehi generated and sold lead lists of innocent individuals for other members of their scheme to repeatedly scam, and claimed the greedy creeps defrauded hundreds of victims -- the terrible twosome targeted older adults and computer illiterate folks by using both telemarketing and in-person sales teams to peddle nonexistent online services and then fight the refund efforts of wronged consumers -- if convicted, Shah and Smith each face up to 50 years behind bars

Page 18: American Life

Page 20: L.A. County Sheriff Alex Villanueva triggered a cover-up scandal when he revealed his investigators determined why Tiger Woods drove off a California cliff, then refused to explain what happened, citing the golf legend's privacy -- Villanueva said the black box in the Genesis SUV that Tiger was driving when he flew off a suburban L.A. highway in the early morning helped determine the cause

* Hollywood Hookups -- Bethenny Frankel and Paul Bernon engaged, Melissa and Joe Gorga appear to have reached the finale of their marriage, Fernanda Flores and professional boxes Noel Mikaelian dating

Page 21: Britney Spears said she broke into tears after seeing bits of the new documentary about how she has been in the grips of a conservatorship for years, saying she was embarrassed by the light they put her in and she cried for two weeks and still cries sometimes

* Generous Hollywood legend Dick Van Dyke put a happy face on job seekers in Malibu when he handed out fistfuls of cash -- Dick was spotted withdrawing bills from a bank before driving to the Malibu Community Labor Exchange, a nonprofit that helps unemployed locals find day jobs and he stayed in his car as he handed out money to masked folks who were lined up to look for work

Page 22: The late Aretha Franklin left behind a royal mess of paperwork, including a newly discovered fourth will that has thrown her $80 million estate into fresh turmoil -- the eight-page document, titled The Will of Aretha Franklin, was apparently drawn up not long before her death in 2018, and was recently found among the files of the singer's onetime attorney Henry Grix along with the paperwork describing the terms of a trust but both items are stamped draft and neither has Aretha's signature but Michigan law changed seven years ago, and it made the admissibility of a document like this more flexible -- currently there's a bitter beef among Aretha's four adult sons over how their mother's assets should be divided

Page 23: The battle over Prince's $300 million fortune rages on, and the late pop star's siblings, and legal heirs, fear there won't be anything left after lawyers, accountants, administrators and the IRS take their cut -- five years after he died from a fatal fentanyl overdose without leaving a will, an avalanche of deals and court hearings have left his massive cash stash in limbo -- sadly Prince's distrust of lawyers and other professionals now means that millions will be spent paying those same people to try to sort out the mess he left behind and this could go on for a decade

Page 26: Weird Body Language -- stars cope with bizarre deformities -- Denzel Washington, Steven Tyler, Ashton Kutcher, Matthew Perry

Page 27: Lily Allen, Mark Wahlberg, Karolina Kurkova, Scar Service -- Tina Fey, Padma Lakshmi, Joaquin Phoenix

Page 32: Health Watch

* Ask the Vet -- Watch out for xylitol

Page 34: Just months after John Travolta's beloved wife, Kelly Preston, passed, the actor has been shattered by another death in the family -- his nephew Sam Travolta's badly decomposed body was found in his Wisconsin apartment last September, weeks after he died from a suspected heart attack -- John has suffered through so much loss and Sam's death was another huge blow but he's strong and has a deep faith in Scientology and the church brings him solace and comfort

Page 36: Shark Tank star Barbara Corcoran has stepped up to get a tenant in one of her buildings back on his feet -- Barbara and building co-owner Alex Rodriguez came under fire after Ryo Nagaoka's possessions were reportedly tossed while he was hospitalized with COVID-19 and when Ryo got home he found only his piano and pet tortoise in his cleaned-out crib -- emptying Ryo's apartment was necessary because it had become a health hazard and had a biocleaning crew scrub it -- Barbara donated $12,000 to a GoFundMe page for him, while A-Rod has seemingly not yet contributed anything and Barbara also said the building's management company has renovated Ryo's apartment

Page 38: Beloved game show host Peter Marshall made a miraculous recovery from COVID-19 to celebrate with friends at his 95th birthday party -- Peter was in and out of the hospital for ten weeks and he was at death's door and doctors didn't give him much of a chance but Peter beat the odds to enjoy a Zoom party attended online by Leslie Uggams, Loni Anderson, Sandy Duncan, Ruta Lee, Karen Valentine, Rich Little, JoAnne Worley, Jack Jones and more

* Accused sex freak Armie Hammer's career is in the crapper and he's beginning to believe that's where it will stay -- the kink king was fired from the thriller Billion Dollar Spy amid sexual assault allegations and the release of social media messages claiming he has dark fetishes including cannibalism -- Armie has already gotten to boot from the movie Shotgun Wedding and the series The Offer, and more trouble may be on the horizon: Armie was accused of sexual assault by a woman called Effie, who alleged the actor violently raped her and Armie's attorneys issued a statement denying the claims, saying Effie's own correspondence with Mr. Hammer undermines and refutes her outrageous allegations -- Armie has been keeping a low profile at a Caribbean resort, but fears his entire career is in trouble

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Carrie Underwood