Murder by numbers... one, two, three

Song Prompt Meme: Something Rotten by Placebo.

jeremydowns — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 07:24:26 GMT

Warning: ... I always go back to the whoring.

-

Sometimes it’s easy. Sometimes you’re a machine, and you can be reduced to rhythm, and movement, and technique. Get them off in minutes flat, the cash rough and real in your hands. Lips swollen. Jaw aching. Knees sore. But a machine. A damn good one. No one can reach inside and short circuit you.

But sometimes, one says, “I miss you something rotten.” Then it’s not so easy. Because you’re not a machine. You’re a boy. A boy he wants to hold after it’s over. Face down on his chest, his arms around you, whispering into your hair, a finger tracing the top of your ear.

He wants to take you away from this. You’re too pretty, too soft around the edges. You’re not a junkie like the others. You could amount to so much more. He knows you’ve been dealt a hard hand, you play it as well as you can. He has a Mercedes, you’re laying in the backseat now. Face down. When you’re away, he misses you something rotten. You don’t deserve to be down here, mired in the street scene, the fast cash in the park routine. You’re smart, he sees that, and he can save you from it. All this he says with your cheek on his chest, while you stare at the fine leather upholstery. Fingertips over your scalp. Gentle.

All you have to do is give it up to him. All of it.

“Not a bad deal, eh?” he says, hands already at your belt. You would like nothing more than to see his blood leaking in giant pools on pavement. You would love so very much to show him something truly rotten.

You sit up, smile coyly, shake your head. Put on your shirt. Refuse his money. Leave.

Never return.

jeremydowns — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 07:24:18 GMT

1. Put your iTunes on shuffle and take the first 25 songs it gives you.
2. Link to the lyrics
3. Let your friends assign you a song to write a drabble to.
4. Post this to your own journal

1. Kings of Leon - 17

2. Louis XIV - God Killed the Queen

3. Tori Amos - Devils and Gods

4. Saves the Day - Third Engine

5. Coldplay - Strawberry Swing

6. Coheed and Cambria - Mother Superior

7. Garbage - Dumb

8. Green Day - Deadbeat Holiday

9. Chiodos - Is It Progression If a Cannibal Uses a Fork?

10. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers - The Waiting

11. System of a Down - Question!

12. Metric - Ending Start

13. Jimmy Eat World - Firefight

14. Radiohead - Last Flowers to the Hospital

15. The Police - Driven to Tears

16. Cute is What We Aim For - Hollywood

17. Voltaire - About a Girl

18. Portishead - Numb

19. Kill Hannah - Crazy Angel

20. The Cure - Trust

21. The Thermals - St. Rosa and the Swallows

22. Placebo - Something Rotten

23. Jesus Christ Superstar - Then We Are Decided

24. Tori Amos - Purple People

25. Bright Eyes - Devil in the Details

CHARACTERS:

Jeremy Downs jeremydowns
Sherry Birkin sherrybomb
Fenrir Greyback wolfmansgotyou
Irina Chesnochov russianclaw
Touta Matsuda does_handstands
Astrid Lestrange astridlestrange
Colt Webster liketherevolver
Heather Mason/Morris hell_is_silent
Blair Holmes daretobeblair

...Aaaand more if you know 'em, I'm just lazy...

If you know others, just include them!

SONG MEME

jeremydowns — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 03:58:56 GMT

Rules:

1. Pick a song from the below.
2. Pick one of my characters.
3. Comment with your character, and say which song and which character of mine you picked.
3. I'll write a small story about those two characters, inspired by the song.

List of my characters to choose from

Jeremy Downs jeremydowns
Astrid Lestrange astridlestrange
Alecto Carrow a_is_for_alecto
Blair Holmes daretobeblair
Bellatrix Lestrange domestic_evil
Rodolphus Lestrange dolphlestrange
Tonks just_tonksplz
Colt Webster liketherevolver
Heather Lestrange lestrangewife
Sherry Birkin sherrybomb
Nicholas O'Hara thestorytelling
Tony Stark starkanator
Fenrir Greyback wolfmansgotyou

Ooooor if you happen to magically know some other characters I play and want to include them, go ahead. :)

Songs:

1. Creep - Radiohead
2. Count of Casualty - P Wolf
3. Amber Waves - Tori Amos
4. Doctor My Eyes - Jackson Browne
5. Spies - Coldplay
6. Dumb - Garbage
7. Lights On - The Pierces
8. Strangers - Portishead
9. Horseshoes and Hand Grenades - Green Day
10. Drunken Lament - Ludo
11. Dead Man’s Party - Oingo Boingo
12. Belle Isle - Grand Ole Party
13. Invisible Sun - The Police
14. Empty - Metric
15. Fascination Street - The Cure
16. Well Thought Out Twinkles - Silversun Pickups
17. Someday You Will Be Loved - Death Cab for Cutie
18. Careless Whisper - Wham!
19. Layla - Eric Clapton (Derek and the Dominos version)
20. Half Jack - The Dresden Dolls
21. The Kilburn High Road - Flogging Molly
22. Black Balloon - The Kills
23. If You Were Here - Poe
24. Days Before You Came - Placebo
25. Ignorance - Paramore

Lesson learned: Maybe we're all freaks.

jeremydowns — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 14:06:53 GMT

Insert your name and "likes to" (all in quotes, e.g. "Harry likes to") in a search engine and post the first ten to pop up:

1. For the finale, Jeremy likes to perform his spectacular 5-minute fire act which includes torches, fire balls, flaming shoes, flaming origami, flaming unicycle and fire eating.

2. "I think we're probably losing the war," says Mr. Cale, whose character on the show, Jeremy, likes to wear a black T-shirt with the inscription, "I pwn n00bs."

3. In addition to playing the music of John Delafose and that of his son, Geno, Jeremy likes to perform the music of Keith Frank, Jo Jo Reed, and the late Beau Jocque.

4. While not rehearsing, performing or consuming himself with CUWE on-goings, Jeremy likes to contemplate the beautiful simplicity that is the C2v point group.

5. Jeremy likes to come here, sir.

6. In his free-time Jeremy likes to play video games... a lot.

7. (Probably) Jeremy likes to play football.

8. Jeremy likes to say - “with great power comes great responsibility…”

9. Jeremy likes to play Bocci (Italian Bowling) and play his guitar in his spare time.

10. Jeremy likes to read books to the younger members at the club and help out where he can.

...locked from Helena

jeremydowns — Mon, 18 May 2009 17:47:58 GMT

((slightly meta, as I don't think he'd ever really answer these questions for a public forum, no matter how truthful or untruthful he was being. But I just can't resist. XD))

1. Do you like it rough or sensual?
...Not rough.

2. Do you prefer to be with the opposite sex or the same sex? or both? At the moment?
Opposite. ~~Opposite opposite opposite opposite opposite...~~

3. How often do you like to have sex?
Whenever it feels right.

4. Is sex a top priority for you?
No.

5. Do you have sex face to face with your partner?
Yes.

6. How often do you get drunk and have wild, crazy sexy with a complete stranger?
~~Why the hell didn't I think of drinking first~~ Never.

7. How do you feel about one night stands?
Uh...? I don't? Not for me.

8. How many one night stands have you had?
~~That doesn't count, right?~~ None.

9. What's your favorite position?
Uh... I like when we can see each other...

10. Where's your favorite place to have sex?
Uh, I lived with a roommate, so where we had privacy...

11. Do you prefer to make love or fuck?
Make love...

12. Have you ever watched porn while having sex?
No... I think that'd be... weird and distracting actually.

13. How long do you usually foreplay before doing the deed?
Uh... do people time these things?

14. Do you get off first or do they? Do you care?
Don't care.

15. Do you like kissing during sex?
Yeah.

16. Do you moan? If so, are you loud or quiet?
... why am I doing this? .....

Pretty quiet, I think...

17. Do you prefer your partner to be loud or quiet?
Whatever she wants is fine by me.

18. Does size matter (for girls-- dicks/for guys-- boobs)?
No.

19. How old were you when you lost your virginity?
~~...Technically? ...15~~ 20.

20. How many sexual partners have you have in the last month?
None... funny thing about Arkham... they frown on those types of visits...

21. What does your favorite foreplay include?
Her being cute and hot? ... I'm easy to please I guess...

22. Do you ever play with yourself during the act?
No...

23. Do you prefer to sleep with randoms or one person?
One person.

24. Have you ever done anal? If so, did you like it?
...

25. When and where was your wildest sex ever?
What pervs invented this survey?

26. What's your ultimate sexual fantasy?
It's actually really boring, so I won't tell you.

27. Have you ever done porn?
~~Didn't that one guy tape-- no I made him delete it~~ Nope.

28. Have you ever had sex for money?
~~Guess that depends on your definition of "sex"~~ No.

29. Have you ever bribed someone to sleep with you?
Uh, isn't that called prostitution?

30. Is the sex still good when you're cheating?
Wouldn't know.

31. During sex... what are you thinking about?
...If you're thinking of something else, you're doing it wrong. ~~Trust me.~~

32. Do you prefer the top or the bottom at first?
Top.

33. How many positions do you like to do during one episode?
...I'm learning I'm pretty boring, here...

34. Do you ever worry about how you're pleasing your partner?
~~I'm more worried I'm hurting her~~ Uh... sometimes.

35. Could you live without sex?
You can live without a lot of things if you have to. Sex isn't even that important in the long run.

36. How often do you find sex boring?
~~when it's about 4:30 PM and you're hungry and sweaty and your knees hurt and~~ I don't.

37. How long does a typical sexual episode last for you?
No, really, do people feel the need to time this shit?

38. Do you like to perform oral sex?
~~NO.~~ ... I plead the fifth...

39. Do you like to receive oral sex?
~~I haven't really felt the need to put her through that yet~~ Also pleading the fifth.

40. Have you ever taped yourself in the act?
No...

41. Have you ever had a 3-some? 4-some? 5-some?
Um, no.

42. Have you ever had interracial sex?
Yeah, I think Helena's part Scottish and I'm not. *eye roll*

43. Have you ever been caught in the act?
No.

44. Have you ever had sex while at work?
~~hahahahahahahahahahahaaaa~~ Nope.

45. Have you ever had sex while at school?
Nope.

46. What is something that you would never consider doing?
The usual taboo stuff, plus anything that would make her uncomfortable.

47. Have you ever had sex on drugs?
No.

48. Would you ever have sex in public?
~~Ha.~~ Not really...

49. What's your biggest turn on?
Her. And someone who can talk science...

50. Do you spit or swallow?
......

51. How many times have you gotten off in one night?
Again with the counting...

52. Would you let other people watch you have sex live?
.....

53. Have you have ever had sex in front of your best friend?
~~Could've if that guy had bought us both~~ Nope.

54. Have you ever had sex with your best friend's b/f or g/f?
~~Could've if Veidt hadn't let me go... but they weren't really... together... yet... does kept man count as boyfriend, actually?~~ Nope.

55. Do you ever have sex in the shower?
Once or twice.

56. What's the weirdest place you've ever done it?
~~That fucking bathroom floor~~ Not a lot of weirdness here, sorry.

57. What was the biggest age difference with a partner?
~~...I don't even want to think about that~~ Helena and I are only a few months apart.

58. Do you feel you are up to par in bed?
I've gotten compliments... from Helena. Helena...

59. Are you still gonna have sex when you're 70?
Uh, only if my partner wants me to.

60. What was your most embarrassing sexual moment?
~~WELL HE'S DEAD SO IT'S OKAY~~ Plead the fifth.

61. How old is "too young" to have sex your in opinion?
... Fifteen.

62. Do you like to be completely naked or clothed?
Whatever.

63. Have you ever done it on a boat/yacht?
... I'd need to have been on a boat or yacht first.

64. What's the most public place that you can think of that you've had sex at?
~~A park~~ Not into the public sex, thanks.

65. Do you like having sex in cars? If so, driver seat, passenger, or back?
No no no...

66. Do you wear protection as often as you should?
Obsessively. I don't want a repeat performance of my life.

67. Has any of your one night stands resulted in a child that you know of?
Never done it, so no.

68. If you're over 18, have you ever had sex with someone under 18?
No.

69. Do you prefer to sleep with someone older or younger than you?
I'm cool with around the same age.

70. What's the perfect size? (for girls-- inches in dicks/for guys-- cup size)?
I don't care.

71. Have you ever done S&M sex (chains,whips,etc.)?
.... No.

72. Have you ever slept with someone out of pity?
~~This one guy was pretty pitiful... but I was still getting paid, so...~~ No.

73. Can you remember who gave you the best sex of your life?
It's easy.

74. If you could sleep with ANYONE, who would it be?
Helena.

RP Log: MOTHER'S DAY (Jeremy and his long lost mom ^_^)

jeremydowns — Sat, 16 May 2009 15:13:06 GMT

Who: Jeremy and Meghan Downs (and a guest cameo from Edie Williams)
Where: Arkham Asylum
What: Reunion time. Whether Jeremy wants it or not.
Warnings: Discussions of abuse, violence and rape. Hide your kids.

Meghan Downs, tired eyes covered by a pair of large dark sunglasses, stood outside the windows that looked into the rec room of the Arkham asylum while she scanned the room carefully.

She wondered which one of the lunatics in front of her was her son.

The woman had been clean since February and instead of looking healthier she looked weak, ready to fall over by the slightest of breezes. She had always been slender but she felt like skin and bones, an appearance helped by the steady diet of cigarettes and coffee. Those were the two things that got her through the day, and though she could barely sleep anymore and walked around constantly tired, it was better than what she was like before.

Meghan thought she had spotted him - her son - but she wasn't sure with the long hair covering the boy's face.

A month ago she had gone back to Miami to try to find him. All she got was bad news - he was wanted for murder and had gone missing. Learning that, the woman locked herself in a crappy hotel room for a week, living on absolutely nothing but cigarettes and coffee, wanting to die and begging her demons to leave her alone. Then one morning there was a knock on her door and she was given an envelope. In it was a small note that said only I heard you were looking for your son and a newspaper clipping about the Gotham serial killer Jason Jones - her Jeremy - with a picture.

Meghan was on a plane later that day.

Now she was here with her son somewhere right in front of her and she needed to smoke.

***

Edie Williams had told everyone the reason she had been taking more and more shifts at Arkham and cutting down her hours at the hospital was because it paid better. Sure, it did, but money wasn't really an issue especially not with Bobby around. Edie was at Arkham so she could be by Jeremy. Of course, the girl wouldn't admit this to anyone and though she was there to be by him she had continued to stay detached from the boy. Most of the time she ignored him but if she were to be caught in conversation with him she kept things short and civil. Edie wanted to be able to cut him out of her life, like she said she was going to do, but she couldn't stop worrying about him. She wanted to talk to him, hug him, laugh with him, but she knew it would - in the long run - be better this way.

Noticing the woman with a visitor's badge standing outside the rec room, Edie skipped over and smiled, "Hi. Can I help you with anything?"

Meghan caught the streak of bubbly blonde in her periphael vision. She glanced briefly over to give a curtousy smile to the nurse before returning her gaze back to the window.

"I'm here to see my son," she said.

"Oh, that's great!" Edie squeaked, finding it very beneficial for the patients to have visitors, "Who's your son?"

Peering at the boy she thought was her son, Meghan replied, "Jeremy Downs."

Edie felt like she had just got rear kicked in the gut by an unruly stallion. Her eyes widened as she looked at the woman, staring in obvious surprise.

"You-you're Jeremy's mother?"

Sensing the nurse's shock, Meghan turned completely around to face her, pushing the sunglasses off her face and on to the top of her head.

"Yeah, is there a problem?" she asked cooly, hands coming to rest on slim hips. She didn't like the look on the girl's face. Was it too hard to imagine a serial killer having a mother?

"No, no," Edie sputtered while her mind kept telling her this is Jeremy's mother, this is Jeremy's mother, this is Jeremy's mother, "It's just that - "

"He's the one in the corner," she cut Edie off, making it more of a statement than a question.

Edie nodded.

"Thank you," she said and turned to the door to the rec room.

"No, wait!" Edie said, "D-do you think it would be good for him to see you? I mean - it's been rough for him - "

Meghan looked disbelievingly at the nurse. "He's my son, you can't tell me whether or not I can see him."

"Yes, I know, but - "

"No - " Meghan held up a finger, silencing the nurse, "He's my son."

And with that she turned on her heel and yanked the door to the rec room open. She came to a halt, a foot from the boy she thought to be her son, and she noticed, exasperatedly, that the plucky blonde nurse had followed and skidded to a stop in between the two of them.

But the nurse was forgotten when Meghan got close to the boy - to her son she had no doubt now. The last ten years swirled around in her head and her eyes filmed over with a thin layer of tears, just enough to be felt and not seen unless you were looking hard.

"Hey, Rex," she said softly, wanting to bolt from the room, "I'm your mom." The woman said her title as if she were apologizing, saying I know you deserve more but this is it.

It was her fault he was in here.

Jeremy was trying to figure out what to do with himself. Half the time he dreamt about escaping from Arkham, especially when his new doctor frustrated him, because she just didn’t seem as understanding as Dr. Quinzel had been. Then again, given that Dr. Quinzel had recently broken into Arkham to give Jeremy a knife, he was starting to question her overall competence as a therapist, even before her swan dive into madness.

He knew there were reasons to stay. Helena was on the hunt for a lawyer, and when determined she always found a way to succeed. Remus had agreed to fund the endeavor with his earnings from Adrian Veidt, a fact so delightfully ironic Jeremy just had to relish in it. But with each passing day Arkham felt increasingly like a cage he would never escape from through traditional means, even with luck on his side (and who was he kidding, it never was).

Add to this the frustration over the Edie mess (she was barely speaking to him but seemed to be around Arkham more than ever somehow) and Jeremy often felt stressed to a breaking point. He was almost wishing for the day she would leave to get married back in Kentucky so that he wouldn’t have her around as a constant reminder of how he had irreparably screwed up their friendship.

He was spending yet another listless afternoon in a corner of the rec room when all of a sudden a strange, sickly looking woman wearing a visitor’s badge marched up to him and called him a name he hadn’t heard for fifteen years, so long now he’d forgotten entirely that she’d used it. In doing so it brought a barrage of memories flooding back into his brain, their effect infinitely more potent than the meaningless phrase that followed it. I am your mother. Who was a mother to the motherless? How do you describe sight to someone who’d always been blind?

She might as well have just socked him in the stomach.

Jeremy’s head snapped up and he stared at the woman, who was growing more familiar every second: hadn’t he watched her brush out that dark hair, still wet from the shower? Weren’t those dark eyes the same ones he saw every time he looked in the mirror?

Trailing her was Edie. Jeremy’s gaze shifted to her, and for a wild second suspected a conspiracy. He’d been stupid enough to think of Edie as his mother, so she’d somehow gone out and found him the real thing, a woman he had no desire to ever see or speak to again. But Edie looked just about as distressed as he felt, so Jeremy had to assume she was trying to prevent the reunion, not enable it.

So he looked again to the woman, who was now tearing up (is that where he’d gotten the capacity to cry at the slightest rush of emotion?), eyes narrowed, and said, “No. You don’t get to do this. Not now.”

Then he stood and tried to bolt past them both, wanting nothing more than to escape back to his room to hide from this part of the nightmare.

Meghan was almost stunned silent by how much like him her son had become. For a fleeting and disappointing second the woman thought she was back in Miami, seventeen, and waitressing long shifts to make ends meet.

"Jeremy," she said as he brushed past them, almost at the same time the blonde nurse called his name too. Her eyes flick to the girl wondering if all nurses at Arkham were this protective over their patients.

"Please, Jeremy, it's never going to be a good time. What do you want me to come back in another fifteen years?" she asked exasperatedly. Meghan had not wanted it to go like this, but when you abandon your son and come to see him fifteen years later after no contact and, to add a cherry ontop of it, he's in an insane asylum after he killed some people, she expected as much.

If she was the boy she wouldn't want to see herself either.

"No," Jeremy said, turning on his heels to glare at her. "I don't want you to come back, ever. You had your fucking chance and you blew it." He realized he was still standing in the middle of the rec room and several people were watching with interest. He shook his head in disgust and continued out of the rec room, stalking down the hall toward his own.

"You're right about that," Meghan said quietly to herself as she watched her son walk - maybe run would be a more appropriate term - away from her with the nurse right behind him.

She looked around, embarrassed suddenly with so many eyes on her, and with shaking hands, pulled her shades back down to cover the tears.

Meghan would let him go today but she would be back tomorrow. She wasn't going to leave him again.

Jeremy made it to his room and leaned against the wall, sliding down it to the floor. He wrapped his arms around himself and put his head down against his knees. His chest ached something awful and he couldn't get enough breath, as if someone had kicked him there.

Edie, despite having said she would keep things discrete between her and Jeremy, could not in her right mind or heart let the boy suffer the blow of seeing his mother alone. She couldn't do that to him. He needed a friend.

She entered the room and with no hesitation knelt to the floor to join him, wrapping her arms around him.

Jeremy didn't even look up when Edie entered, but didn't have the energy to fight her hug. He just slumped against her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"I was hoping she was dead," he whispered.

Edie flinched at the boy's comment, wondering if given enough time between them, he would hope her dead too.

She gave a tight squeeze and asked, "Are you alright, sugar?"

"I don't know," he said. "I never... never thought I'd... or she'd... I don't know." He wasn't making much sense and he was aware of it in a detached sort of way.

The girl didn't know what to say to make it better, she thought there might not be anything for this situation, so she just kept her arms around him.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.

"Just stay for awhile?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Edie swallowed, knowing that she shouldn't, that it was too easy for her to fall back into this role with the boy.

But she couldn't leave.

"Sure, sugar," she said, rubbing him gently on the arm.

"Thank you," he said quietly, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on keeping his breathing slow and steady.

"Soon I won't even have you in this place."

Edie didn't say anything - what could she say? - and stayed, her arms wrapped tightly around the boy.

***

The next day, Meghan Downs was back. A part of her told her she was wasting her time, it was a hopeless cause. Then there was the part of her that had started the search for Jeremy in the first place, the part of her that had told her a couple months ago that she needed to clean up her act, the part of her that had missed Jeremy every single day since she left him in that godforsaken McDonald's bathroom. To this day the woman couldn't eat anything from the fast food chain.

There was also the conversation and shared smoke with the blonde nurse (and Meghan knew now, Jeremy's friend) that had made the woman believe they - her and her son - needed this. If nothing came of it except for closure, at least they would have that.

She was back outside the rec room, once again, searching for her son through the window.

The next day, Jeremy saw her through the window and almost couldn't believe she was back. He stood up and exited the rec room, glaring at her where she stood.

"What do I need to say to get you to leave me alone?" he demanded, although he was fully certain he could mention just one of the numerous horrors that had happened to him since she'd abandoned him and that would do the trick.

There was a hint of a frown on the woman's lips as she pushed her sunglasses up on top of head.

The resemblance to him - Jeremy's father, Meghan now knew for certain - was uncanny.

"I left you once," she said crossing her arms over her tiny chest, "I'm not leaving you again." It sounded almost as if she were daring him to try to get rid of her.

"It doesn't work that way," Jeremy said, crossing his arms. "You can't be gone for fifteen fucking years and then walk in and try to have any kind of authority over me."

"I'm not trying to have any authority over you," Meghan retorted with eyebrows raised, "I just want to fucking know my son."

"You don't have that right anymore," Jeremy scoffed. "You should've wanted to know me when I was five, when you left me in a goddamn bathroom in a fucking McDonalds!"

Her son had a damn good point but Meghan was trying to ignore all the reasons why she shouldn't be standing in front of him.

So she scoffed, "Don't tell me I don't have the right. When you push a ten pound baby out of your vagina without any pain killers, you get the right of being a mother for life." She sighed, "I know I fucked up, Jeremy... Jesus! I know I fucked up! I don't need you to love me or forgive me or any of that, I just need you to listen to me."

"No, you don't!" Jeremy shouted back. "Just because for whatever reason you didn't abort me, that doesn't make you some goddamn hero. And you know what? A lot of times I wish you had! That's the kind of life you've provided for me, Mother. So I don't have to fucking listen to you if I don't want to."

Meghan clenched her jaw, trying to stop herself from getting upset. Of all the things he said, it was his sarcastic mother that hurt the most. She could still hear Jeremy as a toddler in her head, running around the kitchen table, shouting Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! with a plastic dinosaur in his small hands.

"Fine, Rex," she said, pulling her arms tighter against her, "I'll leave, today. But I'll come back every single day afterwards until you give me a chance."

"Don't call me that," Jeremy snapped, although every time she used the stupid nickname it yanked him closer to her, setting lose memories long buried, when the top of the counter was taller than him and she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The threat enraged him as well. Jeremy thought the commitment to abandonment should be complete and not wishy-washy. And why now, after all this time? Surely she knew he sliced people to ribbons for a cheap thrill, right? Who wanted to own up to birthing that when they'd been scott-free for over a decade?

"If I listen to you now, will you leave me alone?"

Meghan told herself she was going to be completely honest with Jeremy, she owed him that much.

"Maybe," she admitted. The woman didn't want to leave him alone again, hadn't she already done that and fucked up his life?

Maybe wasn't good enough, but he had the feeling it was the best he was going to do for the moment. There was still plenty of time to be completely vile to her to make her want to leave him alone for the rest of his life.

"Okay," he said quietly, turning and heading back toward his room. "Let's get out of this goddamn hallway, Poison Ivy already knows enough about me to keep her gossiping for weeks."

Meghan looked around her curiously, as if a potted plant of ivy might be sitting in a corner and her son really was crazy, before following him to his room.

"Fucking poison ivy," she added to Jeremy's comment, to agree with the boy, to let him know - despite the past - she was on his side now, potted plant or not.

The response genuinely confused him, and he looked over his shoulder to give his mother an odd look. "You know her?" Had she been in Gotham this whole time too? He was pretty sure now that he thought about it that no one outside the city would know of Ivy as a villain; it was only the big timers like Joker who got national mention.

Meghan's dark eyes widened and she blinked. "Oh no, don't know her, just saying..." she trailed off and tried giving her son a smile that she knew would not be returned.

"Oh." Trying to get on his side. That was foster care 101, and he wasn't impressed. He turned back around and continued the rest of the way to his room in silence.

It didn't occur to Jeremy until he was already there that this was his room and he was about to show it to his mother. And this was the only thing he had to show for himself... a room in a fucking mental hospital. At least it wasn't his cell in juvie... did she know about juvie? Shit. This was a shit idea all around.

Jeremy flopped down on the edge of his bed and motioned toward the chair used most often by visitors, urging her away from sitting next to him... he had no desire to be that close to her.

Meghan looked at the bed, where her son sat, then at the chair. Of course he wouldn't want her to be close to him and though the woman had wanted to hug Jeremy ever since she saw him, it scared the shit out of her. If she touched him it would make everything - the last twenty years of her life - very, very real.

She grabbed the chair and dragged it so she was right in front of the boy, the closet she could get without touching him, and sat. Resting her elbows on her knees, she stared at the boy.

He had his face and her eyes.

Meghan couldn't stop staring.

Jeremy ducked his head at her stare, blushing involuntarily. Fidgeting, he said, "Well, I'm listening..."

"Right," Meghan said, snapping out of her daze. She leaned backward in the chair, not knowing where to begin. What do you say to a son you haven't seen in fifteen years?

After a few moments of silence, she started with, "Well... I'm your mom. Guess we already established that, me coming in and telling you I was your mom and everything yesterday. And the eyes, we got the same eyes, you noticed that? It's kinda freaking me out, really." It was easy enough to tell the woman was beyond nervous.

Jeremy had noticed, although he hadn't wanted to. He'd also noticed the tendency to tear up and the way she acted while nervous. It was scaring him, honestly, how much of himself he was seeing in her.

"Fifteen years of nothing and you've showed up to talk about genetics?" he asked, glaring at her.

Meghan glared right back. She wouldn't let her son's sarcasm wound her.

"Can I continue? Or do you have more jabs you want to get in?"

"No," Jeremy said, still scowling, "go on."

The woman held his stare and then continued.

"You're named after your grandfather," was the first thing that came to her mind that the boy should know, "Well, in a way... he was Jeremiah, but when the doctors handed you to me I couldn't see such a large obnoxious name in such a beautiful little person - " Meghan smiled to herself, remembering the first time she held him, "So Jeremy it was." She looked at the boy to see if he had any questions, or maybe some more insults to throw.

He flinched as if she'd slapped him. Years of wondering where his name had come from, of having to settle with the fact that she'd just liked it for some reason. No. He was named after a grandfather. He had a grandfather to be named after. Was he still alive? Did he know what she had done to him? Did he know what his namesake had become?

"Why are you here?" he asked. "Why now? Why after... after all this?" After all the damage had already been done. His hands were shaking, so he sat on them and stared at the floor, unable to keep looking at her.

Meghan repressed a sigh.

"Because, after what I did to you, you deserve answers. If - if I had been put through what I put you through I would want to know why." She laughed then, a sad tired sound. "I know you won't believe this but I've missed you every single day, every goddamn one of them, since I left you in that bathroom." Feeling herself start to get emotional she looked down and away from the boy.

There was also the fact that she hadn't been this coherent in a long while, but she would tell him about that in time.

"But what if I don't want answers?" Jeremy asked, glancing up at her. "What if I've already got a world's worth of shit to deal with and I don't want yours too? Just so you can... can unload the guilt you've got for abandoning your own kid?"

Meghan scowled at the boy and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Unload my guilt? Listen, no amount of talking I do here will ever take that away. Maybe when you're older and have a child of your own you'll understand." Maybe he already had a child, the woman had no idea. "Any harm done to your child comes back tenfold to you and stays there, buried right in your gut and it doesn't go away. Ever." She took a deep breath and raked shaky hands through her hair. "You're right, I could give you my very own sob story, but you know what? It doesn't fucking matter. And I don't think anything that happened to me in the past is an excuse for what I did to you. It's just the facts, A to B to C. But you know what Rex? It's my past, it's my story, and I like knowing it no matter how fucked up it is. I just thought that maybe you wanted to know yours too."

"I told you not to call me that," Jeremy said, then fell silent with his head bowed, wishing her words weren't leaking into his brain like they were. He'd known they would, too, which was why he hadn't wanted to give her this chance in the first place.

Finally, he said, "Okay, fine. Why'd you do it, then? Was it Carlos? That was his name, right? The guy who brought over the drugs?" He hadn't known at the time it was drugs they were up to in her bedroom, but time and experience -- especially the smell of crack cocaine -- had clued him in.

After the boy was finished, Meghan just looked at him tenderly. It amazed her the things children picked up, no matter how young.

"I want to tell you the whole thing. My story. Because my story whether you like it or not is yours too." She looked hard at her son and added, "The truth. Do I want you, after all this, to forgive me? Yes, of course, I fucking do. Do I think you will or that you should? Not at all. If my mother walked through that door right now and apologized for what she let happen to me, no matter how sincere, I would tell her to go fuck herself and die. So if that's what you want to tell me, say it now, get it out of the way."

Her mother. His grandmother. This whole maternal hatred thing spanned generations, apparently. He looked at her, mouth twitching, and wished he could say it. But he couldn't. Not now that he was listening.

"I hoped you were dead," he said, echoing what he had said to Edie the day before. "But you're not, so... go ahead. Just say it."

The woman could feel the dull ache of disappointment at his response. She wished he would say it to her, she deserved it.

"I was eleven when my dad - your grandfather - died," she started. It was the best place to begin, when everything started to change, "One of those freak accidents that you could never have prevented. He slipped on something in the kitchen, I can't even remember what it was, water? Dog food? Whatever it was, he hit - " she motioned with her own head and hand, "his head. Bam. Dead." She looked past Jeremy then, her eyes unfocused and a small smile on her lips as she remembered, "He was a good man. Dad. I was only eleven so of course to me he looked like a saint and I'm sure he wasn't but there was something just good about him. Kinda like that bubbly blonde nurse said about you - " After the nurse had nearly taken off her head, "By the way, way protective of you. Though a little crazy, I'm glad she's looking out for you."

Jeremy couldn't help it; he started laughing. He wasn't sure if it was at the thought of being like a grandfather (dead, apparently) who was supposedly good, when he was currently considered the bloodiest serial killer in Gotham history, or that his mother was glad Edie was around.

"Don't get used to it," he said, "she's leaving soon to get married."

Meghan looked up at Jeremy, surprised. It wasn't because of his laughter - God knows you need to find humor in a situation like theirs to keep you from killing yourself - but his remark about the nurse.

"Funny," she said, "She told me she was in love with you." It had occurred to the woman that what the girl had told her had might not have been clear to Jeremy yet, but Meghan was not going to keep anything from her son and... she didn't particularly care.

"Yeah," Jeremy said, unfazed. "It's something she tells everyone, apparently. Not gonna stop her, from what I can tell. Moved the wedding up to next month and everything." He sat up a little, tossing the hair out of his face. "But hey, we're talking about about your fucked up life, not hers."

"Alright," Meghan said, eyes wide, holding her hands up in surrender. "So my fucked up life... oh yeah, so Dad died," she smiled sarcastically, "Two years later, your destructive alcoholic grandmother remarried. And, you know, Greg didn't seem that bad in the beginning, really. I had no complaints other than he wasn't my dad. But... he was kind of touchy," she shrugged, keeping her tone flippant, trying desperately not to make a big deal about it. It was the past, after all, she couldn't change any of it. "At first it was just like fingers through my hair, lingering touches on the leg, nothing that couldn't be argued as fatherly affection." She laughed, hating herself for telling her son this, "It got worse, I ignored it at first, telling myself that oh he had been drinking, he didn't mean it. Then - then I couldn't ignore it and I told my mother and she told me that I was a liar and an ungrateful daughter. Complete bullshit. I was fourteen when my stepfather took it too far." Meghan's demeanor changed and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "And I knew, after that, I had to get out of the house. Out of Connecticut. Far, far away from that fucking creep."

Jeremy didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear about abuse and the unwanted attention of men from his own mother. (Nor did he want her to know that he had suffered the same. It was his pain and his damage -- he didn't want anyone to share it with him, least of all the person who had condemned him to it in the first place.)

"So you ran away," he said, trying to speed it along, "to Miami." He knew nothing of Connecticut, except that it had to be colder there than in Maryland, and it seemed such a foreign place for his family -- his family -- to hail from.

"Yeah," she said, "I figured if I was going to run away might as well be some where warm," she smiled, "I fucking hated New England winters. So I got to the farthest south I could get. Miami. Can't say I'm particularly fond of Miami either," she admitted, "the only good thing to come out of that fucking city was you and your father."

Another thing in common. They both hated Miami. But if she hated it so much, and he was one of two decent things about it, why was she so quick to leave him there?

"My father," he repeated, saying the words carefully. "You lied to me. You said... said he died in the Gulf War. I looked it up." He glanced at her, licking his lips. "No Michael Downs."

"Yeah," Meghan sighed and shook her head, "I thought it might be better for you to hear something like that instead of the truth. He was Michael," the woman smiled then, a real smile, that soften her face, making the dark circles under her eyes and the tension disappear, "But not Michael Downs, Michael Harrington. I'm a Downs, wanted you to have my name though God knows why... I guess for my father, but anyway, his name was Michael Harrington. He was in the Navy, on ship leave, and found himself in Miami. Found himself in my diner. And since I'm barring it all, telling you the truth, I will tell you what I never told him. I loved him." She laughed, not the harsh bitter ones like before, but something sweeter, "It was only a month but it was a good month. Then he left. Never saw him again."

Hearing about his father, hearing how she spoke of him with clear fondness, was awful. It made Jeremy wonder if circumstances had been different, if he could have ended up with both of them, in a decent home. But he knew the what ifs could destroy you, and there really wasn't much left of him to tear down, so he had to keep hold of what little he did have.

"And... and did you know he was my dad?" It was the nicest way he could think of to ask if she'd been a slut.

Meghan smiled sadly at the question. "I hoped he was," she admitted, "Most likely, logically, he was. But there was that itty bitty chance he wasn't though I ignored it most of the time. What's five percent? It's nothing, especially against a mother's intuition. Don't let those Maury and Jerry Springer shows with those crazy ass woman yelling that she knows the one guy is her baby's father fool you. A mother knows. And look at you, you're a spitting image of him." She hesitated for a moment and then asked, "I have a picture. Do you want to see?" She would understand if he refused.

Jeremy almost asked who else she had fucked and in what capacity to account for a five percent possibility his father was someone else, but decided just in time he didn't really want to know. Especially since he apparently looked just like his dad. His real dad. Not Kurt Cobain or Dr. Grant from Jurassic Park, a marine named Michael Harrington. Who might have been a decent man, if Jeremy could trust her judgment.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I would."

Meghan fumbled in her purse and pulled out a photograph (she had more but didn't want to overwhelm the boy since she was sure she was already doing a pretty good job at that) and handed it to her son.

It was a close up of herself - sixteen and smiling - with a young handsome man, looking quite like Jeremy, smiling also.

Jeremy stared at the picture. They both looked unbelievably young somehow. And the man did look incredibly like him, same coloration and hair, face shape and nose, even. The only real difference was the eyes, lighter than the dark brown he shared with his mother, a green or a blue, Jeremy wasn't sure which from the picture.

He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut against the image, trying to will away the tears welling behind the lids. "Shit," he whispered, pressing the bottom of his palms against his eyes, the picture still in hand. "Shit shit shit shit..."

The woman, face scrunching painfully, automatically reached out to rest a hand on the boy's arm.

She hadn't been lying when she said a parent suffers their child's pain.

"No!" Jeremy shouted, smacking her hand away. "No, you don't get to touch me! You don't get to walk in here with your stories and your goddamn pictures and expect that you can fucking touch me!" He threw the picture back at her and glared, tears sliding down his face while he gathered a ragged breath to keep yelling. "You have no idea what absolute shit my life has been since you left me there. It's been one shit storm after another and I've just been expected to get down on my knees and take it like a good dog and I have. Oh, I fucking have in ways you're never gonna know because you weren't there." He broke off, leaning forward, elbows on knees and head in his hands, letting a few painful sobs shake his body.

Meghan flinched when Jeremy smacked her hand away and all the defenses she had put up came crumbling down.

Her eyes spilled over with tears as she watched her son unravel in horror.

She had done this.

Shaking her head, she cried, "I'm sorry, Rex, I am so sorry."

"Please stop fucking calling me that," Jeremy said, wiping his eyes. "I'm not that little kid. I haven't been that little kid in a long long time, when you took me into the goddamn bathroom and said, 'Wait right here, I'll be right back,' and you left. And I waited. And I waited and waited and wouldn't move no matter how fucking hungry I was because my mom said she'd be right back. And finally, finally, this lady came in and asked me where my mom was and I said, 'I don't know.' Because even then I knew you'd done it. You'd picked something more important than me and left me to the wolves." He stared at her for a few seconds, with a sudden and intense calm. "So tell me. Why'd you do it? Enlighten me, oh please just solve the biggest mystery in my fucked up, serial killing life. I've waited so goddamn long."

Meghan shook her head frantically, her whole body shaking with sobs.

She didn't want to hear what he was saying. She didn't want to hear any of it.

But she answered him, through her tears, "I thought you would be better off without me." Hearing it out loud, after what Jeremy just said, made it sound ridiculous. Just some excuse she made up. But it was the truth - the woman, at the time twenty-one-years-old and addicted to crack, thought she was the wolf that was going to devour her little boy if she didn't do anything about it.

"Bull. Shit." Jeremy shook his head, indifferent to her crying. "You couldn't even take me to like, I dunno, a convent or a fire station or something? Not a McDonalds bathroom. That's not what someone who wants the best for her kid does." He leaned closer, staring at her as she sobbed. "It was Carlos, wasn't it? I thought for years he put you up to it. Did you know he smacked me around a couple times when I tried to find out what you two were doing in your bedroom? You sure as hell didn't seem to notice at the time."

The woman closed her hands over her ears as she continued to shake her head.

She didn't want to hear this! She needed a smoke. Goddamnit, she needed a drink and few pills and all of this would go away.

Meghan had never known Carlos had laid a hand on her baby boy - she had been too fucked up to notice. If she had known, by God, he would have been dead.

"I was fucked up!" she shouted through her tears, "I couldn't take care of myself, how could I take care of you! I was in the McDonalds and I thought if I didn't let you go now I would never be able to do it and if you stayed around me any longer you could end up hurt or worse."

"Right, so foster care was so much better. I was happy as a clam there, new placement every couple months, new school, new people to call me the homeless kid while I slept on sunporches and hid from drunk foster dads and learned to steal and lie just to fucking survive." Jeremy shook his head. "Good job, Meghan. That is your name, isn't it? I was never really sure."

"I didn't know!" was all the woman could get out as she cried. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to ball them up into fists. "How could I have known?"

"Because you're my mother!" Jeremy shouted. "You should've known. It was your responsibility to know!"

He was right. He was absolutely right. She should have known, she should have tried harder...

"I should have been there!" she told him, "I should have gotten my act together and gotten you back! I should have..." But shoulds meant nothing. What she did could never be undone.

"Fucking A you should've. But you didn't. So now it's too late. It's so far beyond too late. But hey, at least I've seen a nice picture of you and Michael Harrington. Thanks for everything."

He scooted backward until his back was up against the wall and he hugged his knees. He felt spent and exhausted and, oddly, a little better now that he'd yelled at her the way he'd wanted to for fifteen years. He just wished she'd leave now and Helena would magically appear instead so he could get a proper hug from someone he knew wasn't just going to leave him again.

"You're right," she said, starting to reign in her crying. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes, "You're right. I can't change what I did to you but I sure as hell can spend the rest of my goddamn life trying to make it up to you."

"Do you have thousands upon thousands of dollars to spend on lawyer fees?" Jeremy asked. "Because if not, I doubt there's much you could do for me at this point."

"I don't," Meghan said, "But I know someone who does." She swallowed, the thought making her nauseous and dizzy, but if it would help her son she would do it. She would do anything for him. "My mother."

"No," Jeremy said immediately. He had no desire to get indebted to a woman who sounded even worse than his own mother; he just wanted to see if Meghan had actually been any use to him financially. "I've got it covered. Does your mom even know I exist?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

"No," she answered, wiping the rest of her tears from her face. Meghan had not seen the woman since she was fourteen. A couple years ago she got curious and drunk and decided to see if the woman was still alive. She was. Her and Greg. Meghan never wanted the woman to know about Jeremy, if she could help it. The woman was sick and twisted and God knows she would want to take his life over and shape him into something of her choosing. "Why ask me if you already have it covered... oh, right," she said, realization hitting, "that's what I would be good for, just money."

"I was just wondering if you'd managed to get anything together in the last fifteen years," Jeremy said, shrugging. Not to mention if his mother was somehow inexplicably rich, he would've liked to take the financial burden off of Remus, who was helping out of the kindness of his heart and not a familial responsibility. But Jeremy'd figured as much, from the look of her.

"Are you still using?" He knew a junkie when he saw one. Too skinny, too frail, too obsessed with making things right after they were already fucked up to hell. She had the attitude of someone fresh out of rehab, still holding on to the virtues of the 12 steps with a crack pipe in her other hand.

"No," Meghan answered firmly. It was all coffee and cigarettes now. "But," she admitted because she told herself there would be no more lying, "I've been in and out of rehabs since I left you. Managed to do away with crack but I found a substitute for it easily enough." She let out an exhausted laugh, "Alcohol and pills, just like your dear old grandmother. Fuck, Rex... Jeremy," she flipped her hair over her shoulder and rubbed her face, "I've been clean since your birthday. Probably the longest I've ever been clean, that's pretty damn sad." The woman shrugged and looked at him, "I'm trying to get my shit together."

"My birthday," Jeremy repeated softly. "Three months. Fan-fucking-tastic. You've barely been clean longer than I have." He shook his head slowly. "I don't need this. I don't need you here, ready to fucking relapse at any second. I've got my own addictions to deal with."

The woman - even though she kept telling herself that she deserved even worse treatment - felt a little offended. Three months was a fucking long time when you were addicted to something. Then she heard what her son said and there was a sharp stab of panic at his admission of addiction. Then... it clicked.

"Killing people," she said, so tired and ready for a smoke, "Fan-fucking-tastic. My son is addicted to killing people!"

"Yeah, and I guess I have you to thank for that, don't I?" Jeremy retorted. "Addiction running in the family and everything."

"Oooh," Meghan shook her head and raised a finger, "Don't play that game with me. I don't blame my fucking psychotic mother for making me a junkie and piss poor mother to boot and I certainly don't blame her for your predilection for stabbing the fuck out of people."

Actually, now that Jeremy had said it, wasn't mental illness genetic? Weren't they all - in their own ways - fucking crazy?

"No," Jeremy said, "I don't blame you for making me a killer. There's someone else who enjoys that little privilege. It's the addiction. They keep telling me it's genetic. And trust me, if I could've gotten addicted to cutting myself, I would. I tried once. There's plenty I've tried to keep the damage inward, not outward." He shook his head. "Just couldn't get it to stick. That's no one's fault but mine."

Meghan did not want to hear about her son - her only son - cutting himself. He could kill anyone he wanted, the woman would deal with that, but she couldn't deal with him hurting himself.

"Jesus," she said, realizing that her son was a killer and she would have to be okay with that, "Couldn't you have gotten addicted to hugging people instead?"

"Yeah, because hugging rapists does the world a hell of a lot of good," Jeremy replied flippantly, before he realized what he was implying. Fuck. He looked down, gnawing his lip and hiding behind his hair, hoping she wouldn't come to the clear conclusion.

Meghan paused.

"What did you say?" She was too shocked to really believe it.

"Nothing," Jeremy said.

"No, not nothing," Meghan spoke up, a sharp edge to her tone and she straightened in her seat, "What did you say?" She could feel the anger rising, not for the boy who wouldn't say it, but for the fucking scumbag of a man who had, most likely, laid a hand on her baby boy.

"I said I robbed this kid," Jeremy said, voice hardening. "Older than me. Killed him over forty bucks in a park. Stabbed the fuck out of him. Then I got a tattoo on my neck during the resulting four years I spent in juvie," he turned his head and moved his hair so she could see the full tattoo, "so everyone would know I wasn't someone to be fucking messed with." He turned back to look at her, eyes narrowed, daring her to believe the story everyone else did and not the truth.

Meghan wouldn't. She knew what she had heard and she knew what that kind of humiliation felt like. She also knew how it could fester and take over your whole life if you kept it locked inside and silent.

She narrowed the same eyes right back at her son, ignoring the show he put on and the crappy tattoo, "Bullshit."

Jeremy continued staring at her until he was once again tearing up and had to blink.

"Wish my lawyer had said that," he said softly, wiping an eye with the back of his fist.

The hardness in Meghan's face soften and she once again wanted to hug her son, knowing he wouldn't let her.

"Tell me what happened," she urged softly. He needed to let it out.

Jeremy shook his head, sniffling. "No." He had never spoken of it in detail with anyone (even the shrinks didn't know, since it was easy to distract them with other stories of neglect and delinquency), and she was the last person he wanted to tell.

"Jeremy," she said, trying to get him to look her in the eye, "You can't keep it bottled up. The more you pretend that it didn't happen and ignore it the worse it's going to get. It wasn't just a thing that happened to you, it changed your entire life. No matter how fucked up it is, it's important."

"Is that what they taught you in rehab?" Jeremy said sarcastically, avoiding her gaze.

"No," she said simply, "It's what your father taught me."

Mike had been the first person she had ever told about her stepfather.

That statement caught Jeremy offguard and he straightened up a little, finally meeting his mother's eyes for a second before averting them to his feet once more.

"Sounds like he was a nice guy," he mumbled, sniffling again.

"And it sounds like you're switching the subject," Meghan retorted but gently.

"It was a long time ago," Jeremy said, leaning his head back against the wall and staring at the ceiling. "Five years. Long time, and he's dead. I just wanna forget about it."

"Five years isn't a very long time," Meghan commented. The woman couldn't believe it - five years - that had made her son 15? If the fucker hadn't been killed by Jeremy she would have killed him herself. "And you'll never be able to forget about it," she admitted sadly, "No matter how much you want to, no matter how hard you try." She hoped he would see that she understood how he felt - their situations were different but the outcome had been the same.

Part of Jeremy wanted to clue her in that he didn't consider the experience the worst thing he'd been through. There were worse things than being a victim. There might even be some satisfaction in seeing her reaction when she learned her son was a filthy little whore.

But he couldn't. Again, it was his damage. She might have thought they were somehow linked now, like they could bond over being abused, but he was alone. He was always going to be alone.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "If it's never gonna go away, why bother bringing it up? Especially to you?"

"For fuck's sake," Meghan gushed, eyes wide in exasperation, "It does fucking matter, Jeremy! Someone did you wrong, someone hurt you, they did it and they fucking enjoyed it. Shrugging it off like it's nothing? That's just letting him win. Yeah, he's dead, you killed him, but it looks like he's getting the last fucking laugh."

"No!" Jeremy shouted. "No, he didn't, because I enjoyed killing him more than he enjoyed fucking me!"

Meghan was almost relieved, hearing him say it, but it was only part of the story.

"You sure about that?" she prodded.

"Yes!" Jeremy said, hands clenching into fists. "Because I didn't need to hear him beg, I just did it, and the blood, all that blood, that was enough, that was incredible, and it was so quick, so fast and almost perfect, I almost got them all, I'd practiced, I..." He stopped, realizing what he was saying.

"Shit," he mumbled, shaking all over. "I'm worse than him. I'm worse."

Meghan couldn't lie, hearing Jeremy - her baby boy who used to cry if any of his toys were "hurt" (meaning she had stepped on one of them by accident) - talk about enjoying killing someone was scary. Frightening. Nauseating.

But he was her son. And she glad that bastard had been killed.

"No!" she said firmly, again trying to get him to look at her. If she couldn't touch him he needed to see she was here for him, "No you are not. That guy, whoever he was, was a fucking creep. A scumbag who took advantage of a helpless boy. He got what he fucking deserved."

"Yeah, he did," Jeremy said, eyes brimming with tears that stuck to his long eyelashes, "but then I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop... and I didn't want to... so I just... I just kept trying to find people who deserved it like he did and... and..."

He was so tired suddenly. Tired and dizzy. He lay down and hugged his pillow, pulling himself into a fetal position while he tried to keep the room from spinning.

"I just thought he wanted to be friends, you know? I was so... so lonely... you dunno how lonely it is... when they send you to the place only the fucked up unwanted kids go... so hard to make friends in a place like that... fuck."

Meghan could feel her own tears rising to the surface but she swallowed them down. She needed to be strong.

The woman scooted her chair closer to the edge of the bed, "So you thought he was your friend?" she asked softly, wanting to touch her son so badly, just a hand on his head or arm, anything.

"Yeah," he said quietly, closing his eyes and sniffling. "I'm sorry, I... I don't think I can do this... not right now..."

Meghan could only push so much before the pain in her son's eyes was too much.

"If I come back to tomorrow?" she asked cautiously.

Jeremy looked at her and took a slow breath. "Maybe?"

Meghan had no choice, she had to take it.

"Okay," she said. She got up from her seat and headed slowly to the door, not ready to leave. "I'm sorry, Rex," she said softly, turning around when she was at the door, "I know it probably means nothing to you but I really am."

"I know," Jeremy said. "I'm sorry, too."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, Rex," she said and then corrected herself, "Jeremy."

He had plenty to be sorry about, and besides in this case he was apologizing in advance.

He wasn't going to be here tomorrow. One way or another.

"Goodbye," he said quietly. "Meghan."

jeremydowns — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 02:21:17 GMT

The problem with LJ: we all think we are so close, but really, we know nothing about each other. So I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about.

Yeah... go for it... I'll tell the truth.

RP log: Harley and Jeremy

jeremydowns — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 02:08:00 GMT

Therapy time.

Sometimes Jeremy didn’t mind it. Others it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done. Especially now that he wasn’t allowed in Dr. Quinzel’s office, but forced to meet with her in a stark white observation room with their sessions getting tape-recorded. But considering all the people he had gunning for him, he was truly was giving it his all.

Problem was, the doctor herself seemed a little... off, lately. It was understandable, given the stress she must be under, but it worried him, a little. Jeremy wondered if she had any time off allotted to her, because it seemed like she needed it.

Regardless, he was ready for her entrance, in his usual seat at one end of the table, waiting for her to show up and sit in the seat opposite him.

The door opened quickly and without a knock. Harley had almost bumped into the guard outside, and nearly dropped the tape recorder on her way in. She was still trying to juggle it with her clipboard as she made her way over to the table. She appeared much more distracted than anything else, finally letting the tape recorder fall with a loud metallic thunk as she took a seat. It didn't seem to phase her. She ignored the possibly damaged recorder and Jeremy for several moments, humming some disjointed little tune as she scribbled something down on paper.

Finally she addressed him without looking up from what she was writing. "How are you today, Jeremy?" Her voice matching her appearance in sounding distracted by someone or something. She used her free hand to push back some of her hair, worn down for the day. Her glasses were off before she had even entered the room as well, folded and hanging from a pocket on her jacket.

Jeremy jumped a little when she dropped the tape recorder, but he regained his composure and nodded. “I’m okay.” He took in her appearance; she really did look better with her hair down and without the glasses. She was a lot less... Little House on the Prairie school marm that way. “You look, uh, nice.”

Maybe she was dating someone? Didn’t girls go all moony-eyed when they found a boyfriend? Helena sure had seemed more giggly than usual when they had started going out.

She looked up at the compliment, her lips curling up. She was wearing a much brighter, redder shade of lipstick today. "Thank you!" Her voice got higher, almost a squeak. She then caught sight of the tape recorder between them. She eyed it for a moment before turning her attention back towards her notes, writing once again. "Don't worry. I'll tell 'em the guard ran into me or somethin' and we couldn't tape the session. Not like it really matters much."

Jeremy blinked, unsure of whether that was a good or a bad thing... but he had to admit he didn’t like being recorded.

“Um, okay.”

"So, tell me how you've been spending your time." Her voice got absent-sounding again, her pen moving despite him rather than because of him.

“Uh, it hasn’t been too exciting... I’ve been reading a lot. People stop by to visit. I think Helena’s coming again this week...” He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t seem to be paying much attention. Usually she hung onto every word, rapt.

“Um, if you’re... busy, or something, we could do this later...” Never mind that it was her job and he was a high profile inmate. If the doctor had better things to do, Jeremy would just as soon let her do them.

She was nodding absently until her ears caught him saying they could do this some other time. She laughed, a little longer and louder than what was probably appropriate. "Yeah, sure... You know Jeremy, you're pretty funny. Don't let them change you." She looked up for a moment, but past him. When she returned her eyes to her paper, her brows creased and she flipped the page, scribbling something new down on the next one.

“I wasn’t... making a joke, Doctor...” Jeremy resisted the urge to look behind him at what she seemed to be looking at, because he knew there was nothing there.

"I dunno about that, Jeremy. Pretty much everything is a joke. One. Cruel. Joke." She seemed to be drawing some harsh lines on the pad, to accentuate each word. "I mean, would you be here otherwise? Would I be here? Would anyone?"

That was a dangerous attitude and Jeremy knew it. It was the line of thinking that made you do anything and damn the consequences because nothing really mattered. He’d lived that way and never wanted to go back, so hearing it from his therapist honestly scared him. He sat up suddenly, his eyes widening.

“Are... you okay? Did something happen?”

Talk about role reversals. But he liked Dr. Quinzel and owed her a lot, so it genuinely upset him to hear her say something like that.

"I've never been more okay in my life! No, I don't think I've ever been happier..." Her voice trailed off as she looked back up at him, smiling. Leaning over the table, she then brought up hand to poke him in the nose. "The question is, what's gonna happen to you!"

Jeremy wasn’t able to follow what she was saying, but was tense enough that when she touched him unexpectedly, he reacted dramatically. He pushed way from the table and stood up, backing instinctively against the wall, staring at her.

He was torn between asking her what she meant and demanding that she leave. He glanced quickly through the window in the door while licking his lips, but could not gain eye contact with a guard.

He looked back at her, at a loss. “What’s gonna happen to me?” he repeated, voice cracking and making him sound humiliatingly adolescent.

She watched him backing up against the wall with the first real interest she had since entering the room. She let out a little giggle at the look on his face. "That... I know what that's about." She seemed amused. "I know what that's about." She repeated in an almost sing-song little voice.

"Sit down, and I'll tell you what's going to happen to you." She didn't even try to hide the smirk on her face as his voice cracked.

“No.” Jeremy put as much defiance and bravado in his voice as he could. This wasn’t the doctor he knew; this was... something else.

He knew about being something else.

“Tell me now or I’m calling the guards.”

"Call the guards and I tell them you're having a psychotic break and have to recommend something severe." She watched him, her voice taking a mock calm. "I like you, Jeremy. I'd hate to have to do that, but you're on the entirely wrong side of the table to be making demands. Now, sit down. Show's almost over."

Jeremy’s heart pounded wildly as he realized she was right; he had no power here. Swallowing hard, he inched closer and sat back down, never once taking his eyes off her. Then he took a deep breath and waited.

"Good boy." She watched him sit down and then looked back down at her clipboard. Picking up her pen, she started writing again, as before. "You're very nervous Jeremy, I would see someone about that if I was you..." She mused for a moment. "I still think you'll get out of here, you know. Of course, I think I'll get out of here too. Just a lot sooner."

Jeremy flinched when she called him a good boy. He’d been called that often in the past, mostly while on his knees. He was a second away from hissing Fuck you, but the knowledge of the power she had over him kept him silent. He looked down instead, picking at the edge of the table with his finger, hiding from her under his hair.

She was cracked. Completely cracked. He struggled not to panic, trying to block out all the ways she could make his stay here a living hell with the authority she possessed.

And he had liked her. Really, really liked her. For a moment he nearly teared up; a crybaby little bitch as always. But he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. He sniffled instead. but his eyes stayed dry.

Finally, without looking up, he said, “Well, good. You sound like you need a vacation.” Or her own cell in this place.

She went back to largely ignoring him, only bothering to respond to the word 'vacation'. "Would you believe I've never taken a vacation since I started here? Not even a sick day!" She continued writing. "All work and no play. Do you know what it's like to sit and listen to other people's problems all day long? It's time someone listened to me. Someone has." She paused, looking thoughtfully over what she had scribbled down so far.

He’d had people talk to him like this before too. Like he was part of the decor and they just liked hearing themselves speak. There was a fine line you had to walk and decide whether you should speak (and reinforce their ego) or keep quiet (because you’re not being paid to talk). Choosing poorly could be disastrous.

“That sucks,” he said finally. “You should have more time to yourself.”

She looked up, grinning. "You're right! And I think I will from now on. I'm going to have a lot. more. fun. I always knew you were a smart boy, Jeremy. I'm sure you'll go back to having fun once you get out, too."

Jeremy swallowed hard. He wanted to say, It was never fun, but the truth was... it had been fun.

He still wanted to cry.

“You leaving soon, then?” he asked casually.

"Tryin' to get rid of me?" She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I think we've gone as far as we can go... here. But maybe we'll get to play again, sometime." She started to gather up the tape recorder and her notes. "Take care of yourself, Jeremy. Comb your hair, eat your vegetables. And give all my love to Helena." She spoke rather cheerfully, standing up.

Jeremy kept quiet as she talked her crazy talk, and just nodded, just waited for it to be over. Sometimes that was the only thing you could do. He did not look up even when she stood.

Harley gave a small wave before heading out the door. She started to hum again as she was a bit more careful not to run into the guard on the other side, who came in right after she left.

jeremydowns — Wed, 08 Apr 2009 03:29:28 GMT

"I'll always be here," she said.

Character Survey (because the mun shouldn't really be packing for her move on Saturday)

jeremydowns — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 20:26:31 GMT

The Character Physically

1. What is the character's stature and build? Is he overweight? Thin? What is his height and weight? Jeremy's tall, about 6'0", maybe 6'1". He's got a sturdy build and is rather muscular, particularly around the arms. He's bound to be losing weight in Arkham though, just from all the stress and anxiety and the meds he's on.

2. How old is he? He turned 20 at the beginning of February.

3. Describe her posture. Is it good? Does she carry herself well? Is she crooked? Straight? He looks down a LOT, I've noticed. He has a hard time looking people in the eye. When he sits he tends to slouch.

4. Is he in good shape or out of condition? Is he muscularly weak or strong? He was in good shape pretty consistently until he was put in Arkham. Now he's probably not getting much exercise.

5. How is his health? Any illnesses or conditions? Any physical disabilities? Physically he's like a horse! Mentally... another issue. He has a compulsive need to kill people, plus some kleptomania (it was much worse when he was younger though, he doesn't do it so much anymore because killing gave him a bigger release), and some pretty understandable depression. All of this is a product of a traumatic past.

6. Is he physically active or sedentary? A fast or slow mover? Physically active and pretty fast when he wants to be.

7. Is he clumsy, awkward, graceful? In every day life he's awkward as all hell. Like holy crap. The only time he's quite graceful is when he's killing someone. Cute, yeah?

8. Does he move in straight or curved lines? Is he physically tight or fluid? Uhhhh what? He can walk a straight line, if that's what you're asking. And he's not terribly rigid or anything.

9. What are his chief efforts? Getting not-crazy.

10. Is the character good-looking, pretty, beautiful, average, plain, ugly, disfigured? I think he's a fucking cutie. He's definitely got a babyface though, which might not appeal to everyone. He is consistently thought to be younger than he is because of it.

11. Is the character aware of himself physically? Not... really? Most of the attention he's gotten from his looks has been either unwanted and traumatic or creepy and degrading, so instead of thinking he's attractive, he thinks there's a giant neon sign above his head that reads "I SUCK COCKS" that only gay men can see. I am not even kidding.

12. Describe his complexion and skin. Dark, light, clear, marked? Caucasian but skin that can and does tan. (He's from Miami, that's like a necessity.) Few acne scars but not too bad, he is just fresh out of his teens.

13. Describe his hair, coloring, styling. Is it taken care of? Longish shaggy puppy hair. Not quite emo because he doesn't style it at all and it doesn't have any body on its own. Light brown naturally, given to random streaks of blonde from too much sun ~~and not because the actor had random blonde highlights that I can't explain since how the hell do you get your hair highlighted in juvie~~. It's just kind of there but he finds it useful to hide behind. He has stated the only reason he didn't join the army is because he would have to cut it, although that whole, criminal record thing might have had something to do with it.

14. How is his usual dexterity? Does he have good hands: Can he do things? Is he a worker?
He has good dexterity. He kills people with small hunting knives... he's got to be pretty good. He's been known to carve down wood with a knife but he doesn't really make anything in particular with it. He's pretty good for manual labor; he liked being a roadie and didn't mind lugging around equipment.

15. Is he physically tense or relaxed, nervous, controlled? Often tense, tenses more when touched unexpectedly, especially by men.

16. What are his chief tension centers? Shoulders. He hunches them a lot.

17. What part of his body would you notice first? All that hair, then the tattoo on his neck. Then his arm muscles. At least... that's exactly what I did when I saw him for the first time.

18. Describe his basic gravity factor. Is there a downward pull or buoyancy? Uhhh? I guess a downward pull, he's not like a bouncy person or anything.

The Character's Clothes

1. How much clothing does this character have? Not much.

2. What items are in their wardrobe? From Miami: five shirts (four sleeveless and one plaid button down), two pairs of jeans, a suit from court appearances. An inherited sweatshirt from a member of Spared that advertises the University of Michigan. A few warmer shirts. His Jason Jones coat and mask and gloves.

3. What are their favorite articles of clothing? The sweatshirt's done him well.

4. What colors are the clothes? Is there a wide range? Bright or dull? Mostly neutral. Grays and stuff.

5. Are their clothes bright or dull? Redundant redundant!

6. Were they bought or home-made, hand-me-downs, expensive? All the stuff from Miami was probably from Goodwill. Sweatshirt was a hand-me-down, rest were bought.

7. What is one of his favorite items to wear? Whatever keeps him the warmest, it's fucking cold up north!

8. Do his clothes fit well? Mmmm yes.

9. Is he comfortable in what he wears? Does he "fight" his clothes? He's a guy who cares nothing for fashion, so as long as it fits and keeps him warm, he's good.

10. Is he confident about the way he dresses, or uneasy? Indifferent.

11. Does he care for his clothes? Keep them up and neat? Is he worried about how they look? He is very neat, so he keeps them organized and put away and whatnot. I think someone along the line in a foster home made him a laundry boy so he knows how all the cycles on the washer work and stuff.

12. Does he have to dress a certain way because of his job or position? If so, do her usual clothes fit his real, basic character? They were pretty casual in the mailroom, so no. His other job... hmm, heh... He rarely ever undressed for anyone though, didn't want to be that vulnerable. He was a terrible prostitute, there should be a children's book series. "The Worst Whore"....

13. Does he dress according to a self image of himself? Is that self image conscious or unconscious? At what age was this self image made? He doesn't dress according to anything, but he definitely has a fucked up self image. It was made at 15, for certain, although his self perception wasn't terribly great before then, either.

14. What kind of underwear does he wear? Boxers. :)

The Character's Voice

1. Does he speak in a high or low pitch voice? When might he be higher than usual? When lower? He has a loooow voice. It's basically the only thing that might dissuade people from thinking he's like 16. It has a tendency to crack still though, especially when he's confused or upset, making him appear quite adolescent still. (It gets even deeper when he's killing mode, however.)

2. Is he a loud or soft talker? Soft for the most part. Get him on a science tangent though and he'll suddenly get rather animated.

3. Is there a wide range in the voice in volume, pitch and/or quality, or is the voice pretty consistent and even? Pretty consistent, I guess

4. Is there good resonance to the voice? Is the voice throaty, chesty, heady, nasal? Kinda throaty, actually.

5. Is there tension in the voice? Anxiety? Emotion? He has a lot of awkward pauses when he talks, because he's thinking things through before he says them, out of a concern for being misunderstood or told to shut up, mostly. Also, his intonation depends on who he's talking to. He can sound very casual and uncaring if he doesn't want anyone to know what he's really feeling. When in killing mode everything is very calm. When being honest, he can sound wildly emotional.

6. Is there an accent? Anything unusual in pronunciation? Emphasis? Phrasing? Very normal, flat American accent. He uses a lot of contractions, stuff like "gonna" instead of "going to," so doesn't sound terribly refined but not completely ignorant, either.

7. Is it a trained voice, or just natural? Can't sing worth a damn. Doesn't even try.

8. Does the character "try" to speak well or just "how it comes out"? Like above, just how it comes out, usually colloquial sounding but not stupid.

10. Is the voice comforting or irritating? Reassuring or disturbing? Sometimes soothing, sometimes unintentionally but undeniably creepy.

11. Is he self-conscious when he speaks to others? How large a group could he speak to before he became self-conscious? Christ, he's self-conscious one-on-one a lot of the time. I don't think he could speak in front of a group at all.

The Character's Mind

1. Is the character smart, dumb, naive? Smart but uneducated, poor thing. Also rather lacking in common sense.

2. Does he think quickly? Slowly? Is he quick-witted? Dull? He's more a do first, think later type of person. Which is why he's gotten into so much trouble.

3. What kind of education has he had? He got his GED in juvie, but alas dreams of higher education have been hindered by his criminal record and lack of funds.

4. What subjects does the character have knowledge or expertise in? How to kill people by slitting major arteries. Also a variety of trivial knowledge in stuff like dinosaurs, astronomy, and certain types of animals, especially reptiles. Probably has a good grasp of how to mail things and sort incoming mail by now. Damn good at giving a guy a blowjob, especially for someone completely repulsed by the whole ordeal.

5. Is the character impulsive or deliberate in reaching conclusions? Is he logical, rational, or emotional? Impulsive, compulsive, obsessive... Not terribly rational, either. And a complete mess of emotions when prodded.

6. Does he think out things before he speaks or can he "think on his feet" as he is speaking? Usually thinking very hard before speaking, but there can be times when he gains confidence enough to speak without faltering.

7. Does he have contemplative times? What does he think about when alone? They're giving him sleeping pills for that now, which he is grateful for.

8. Is he an idealist? A pragmatist? A dreamer? An idea man? An action man? I guess you could say an action man. He sure does a lot of things, none of them very good.

9. Is his life motivated chiefly by abstract ideals or practical rewards? Survival. Always survival.

The Character's Emotions and Personality

1. Is he an introvert or an extrovert? Introvert.

4. Is he hot-blooded or cool-headed? Cool-headed sometimes, but push the right buttons and he goes into "snarky punk" mode.

5. Does he have a narrow or wide range of emotions? Do they show often? Wide and yes.

6. Does he indulge in emotional peaks, outbursts, or valleys? Often? He does have highs and lows... lot more lows than highs. The highs come from killing or stealing, usually.

7. Would you say he is basically sensitive or calloused? Oversensitive. So oversensitive, while trying to maintain a tough exterior. It usually ends in tears. He cries a lot, although usually not for very long, which is why it happens so much. He has a hard time letting anything out, so it keeps threatening to overflow.

8. Is he suspicious, cautious, trusting, or naive about new people or situations? Very often suspicious, but when he deems people trustworthy he is very eager to please.

9. Is he an aggressive or reactive person? Is he a pusher or a puller? Reactive, puller.

10. Does he take positive or negative action? Negative. Poor baby.

11. In a danger or emergency situation would he go to it or run away from it? Depends. If a friend was in danger, he'd face it. If it was something related to the cops trying to catch him, he would ruuuun.

12. Is the character basically nervous or calm? Often nervous or anxious. Only very calm in killing mode.

13. Does the character have a sense of humor? Does he appreciate jokes? Can he see humor in unfunny situations? Can he laugh at himself? Yes.

14. Can he tell a funny story or joke? Do others find him amusing? Yes, especially after being quiet awhile so it's rather unexpected. Other characters have found him funny, yes.

15. Is he a practical joker? What is his opinion of tricks or jokes played on other people? Surprise! You're dead! Okay, that's not really a joke to him.

16. Is his humor ever cruel? It would be if he considered killing people funny. But he doesn't.

17. Under what conditions could he be harmful or mean or cruel to another person? When he's killing them.

18. Is he a loving person? Is he full of love and giving or rather bound and tight in this area? Is he capable of relation to others in a loving way? Is he capable or relating to one specific person in a romantic way? Yes. He can also be very impulsive about showing affection sometimes, when other people aren't expecting it.

19. Is he loved by any other people? In what way? He is, but everything's very messed up right now, so some of them are angry or confused about him.

20. Is he romantically in love now? With whom? Is this a happy, rewarding or frustrating situation or him? Head over heels for Helena Kyle. It's frustrating because he thinks she hates him now and doesn't know where they stand. If he loses her things are going to get very, very dark.

The Character's Wealth, Power, and Influence

1. Does this person have much money? Does it provide position or respect from others for him? He had a little saved from the mailroom job, but not very much. Definitely not enough to cover lawyer fees.

2. Is he generous or selfish with his money and possessions? He really doesn't have much, so it's just kind of there.

3. Is the character socially prominent? Is he prominent from wealth, position or office, family history, ability or accomplishment? He's pretty infamous in Gotham for being Jason Jones the serial killer. He achieved lesser notoriety in Miami for gruesomely murdering an older kid over 40 bucks at age 15.

4. Does the character rate high in the "pecking order" with his household? Town? Area? Nation? World? He's in a mental hospital. That's pretty low on the totem pole. (But not, in his opinion, as low as a whore.)

5. Does this person wield much clout? Over whom and by what means? As Jeremy? No. As Jason Jones.... yes.

6. Can he command others to do his bidding, by word or manipulation? He's seduced a client or two when he had to. Also lured some victims to their demise.

7. How does he get his wishes daily? He doesn't. Poor thing.

8. To whom is he subservient? Is this submission willing or unavoidable? In the past, clients. I wouldn't call it willing, but... he really needed the money. Currently he's at the mercy of the medical staff at Arkham, also kind of unavoidable. He's trying to be cooperative for the most part.

The Character's Activities

1. How does the character spend his time? Therapy, medication, avoiding everyone else in the rec room, internet, sleeping.

2. What does his daily routine consist of? See above.

3. What is his profession or work? It was a mail room worker... now it's nothing.

4. What things does he really like to do? Besides killing... science related stuff. He had an internship at Wayne Enterprises in the Applied Sciences Division and loved it.

5. What things does he hate to do? Besides killing... talk so much about himself. It's exhausting and bringing up a lot of stuff he wanted to keep buried. The thing he hated the most in his whole life was being a whore.

6. What are his leisure time activities? Pastimes? Recreation? Video games, although his proficiency lies in old school games like Tetris and Pacman. The new ones are too complicated. He also likes working out and playing basketball, which he hasn't gotten to do in a long time.

7. Does he play games? What kind? See above.

8. Does he like to eat or drink? How important are food and drink? He doesn't drink alcohol and will eat anything given to him without complaint.

9. How important is sex to him? What sexual activities does he partake in? Anything unusual? It's not the be all, end all of anything, it's just nice, especially since it's sex with the correct gender now.

10. Is his attitude about sex healthy or disturbing to him? Is sex a rewarding, enriching part of this person's life or is it frightening, anxious, or frustrating? Is sex a positive or negative factor in his life? He's very weird about sex. For a long time it was the source of a lot of shame, and he wondered if he had to be gay despite the fact that he never enjoyed any of it. Even with girls he can be weird, because he's always wary of anyone who wants to take advantage. It took someone very patient and not looking for any kind of power struggle to get him comfortable with it.

The Character's Favorite Things

1. Colors? Red...
2. Food? Grits
3. Drinks? Milk and root beer (not together, obviously)
4. Smells? that clean warm rainy smell
5. Time of day? No preference
6. Season of the year? He never had seasons until recently, so not-winter is his favorite.
7. Books? Not a huge reader, but really likes Jurassic Park (read it after being obsessed with the movie as a kid)
8. Kinds of literature? Non-fiction, science related
9. Authors? Michael Crichton
10. Places to visit? Science museums, or cool natural wonders (was planning to go to Niagara Falls, for example)
11. Kinds of music? he doesn't really care for music, but does like Radiohead and Coldplay, specifically
12. Musical Instruments? Doesn't care
13. Composers? None
14. Metals; gold, iron, copper, pewter, etc.? steel
15. Building materials; stone, wood, clay, tile, etc.? Doesn't care
16. Fabrics; silk, wool, linen, etc.? Cotton
17. Pieces of furniture? doesn't care
18. Plants? Prefers Fauna to Flora
19. Flowers? Prefers Fauna to Flora
20. Trees? Indifferent usually, but definitely not a fan of mangroves
21. Birds? Extinct ones, like dodos and pterodactyls.
22. Animals? Reptiles
23. Miscellaneous? There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses, it's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses at the state of the sheets before all the stains and a few more of your least favorite things...
24. Modern Fairytale? The one where he lives happily ever after. Ha.

Character's Religion

1. What are his specific religious beliefs? Does he belong to a specific sect or creed? Does he advocate that group's beliefs? Atheist. He was never baptized as far as he knows and never raised with one particular religion, although the Cuban families he lived with sure got obsessive with their Catholicism.

2. How important is religion to him? It's not. In fact he's afraid to believe in God because of how he might be judged by such a being.

3. Is he pious, devout? Clearly not.

4. In what religious activities does he engage? What percentage of his time is devoted to it? None.

5. How does religion motivate his actions or affect them? It doesn't.

Character's Fears

1. What things frighten him? Abandonment. Being powerless. Clowns.

2. Is he motivated by fear? Almost always.

3. To what extent is he motivated; never, occasionally, usually, constantly? See above.

4. What would this character think were the three most terrible things that could happen to him?
1. Being raped again.
2. Having to return to prostitution.
3. Losing Helena.

5. What would he think were the three most wonderful things that could happen to him?
1. Being found innocent due to insanity.
2. Actually getting better and not having to kill to feel okay, and still being himself once that's taken away from him.
3. Getting to keep Helena and his friends and being able to have a normal life.

6. What is the one thing he doesn't want anyone to find out about him? It used to be that he was a killer, but everyone knows that now. So now I think it would be that he used to be a whore. He's really ashamed of it because it was something he chose to do and not had done to him.

Memes

jeremydowns — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 17:15:38 GMT

Dunno how accurate any of these are...

Jeremy took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test!

""Needs peaceful surroundings. Looking for relief ..."

Click here to read the rest of the results.

What Your Name Means

You entered: Jeremy Michael Downs

There are 18 letters in your name.
Those 18 letters total to 85
There are 6 vowels and 12 consonants in your name.

What your first name means:
Hebrew Male Variant of Jeremiah: May Jehovah exalt. Exalted of the Lord.
English Male Variant of Jeremiah in use since the Middle Ages.

Your number is: 4

The characteristics of #4 are: A foundation, order, service, struggle against limits, steady growth.

The expression or destiny for #4:
Order, service, and management are the cornerstones of the number 4 Expression. Your destiny is to express wonderful organization skills with your ever practical, down-to-earth approach. You are the kind of person who is always willing to work those long, hard hours to push a project through to completion. A patience with detail allows you to become expert in fields such as building, engineering, and all forms of craftsmanship. Your abilities to write and teach may lean toward the more technical and detailed. In the arts, music will likely be your choice. Artistic talents may also appear in such fields as horiculture and floral arrangement, as well. Many skilled physicians and especially surgeons have the 4 Expression.

The positive attitudes of the 4 Expression yield responsibility; you are one who no doubt, fulfills obligations, and is highly systematic and orderly. You are serious and sincere, honest and faithful. It is your role to help and you are required to do a good job at everything you undertake.

If there is too much 4 energies present in your makeup, you may express some of the negative attitudes of the number 4. The obligations that you face may tend to create frustration and feelings of limitation or restriction. You may sometimes find yourself nursing negative attitudes in this regard and these can keep you in a rather low mood. Avoid becoming too rigid, stubborn, dogmatic, and fixed in your opinions. You may have a tendency to develop and hold very strong likes and dislikes, and some of these may border on the classification of prejudice. The negative side of 4 often produces dominant and bossy individuals who use disciplinarian to an excess. These tendencies must be avoided. Finally, like nearly all with 4 Expression, you must keep your eye on the big picture and not get overly wrapped up in detail and routine.

Your Soul Urge number is: 4

A Soul Urge number of 4 means:
With the Soul Urge or Motivation number of 4 you are likely to strive for a stable life. You tend to follow a rather orderly pattern and systematic approach in your endeavors. You have an inner desire to serve others in a methodical and diligent manner. You want to be in solid, conventional, and well-regulated activities, and you are somewhat disturbed by innovation and erratic or sudden changes. Excellent at organizing, systematizing, and managing, you have a way of establishing order and maintaining it. You are responsible, reliable and in the final analysis, practical. Highly analytical, you can see your way through all sorts of situations and generally have a clear understanding of the issues. You are a very honest, sincere, and conscientious individual.

The negative side of the 4 is rigid, stubborn and somewhat narrow-minded. There is a tendency to hide feelings, or to really not be aware of real feelings. Avoid being too rigid and stubborn in your thinking, and try to always see the big picture rather than becoming to involved with the detail. Don't be afraid to take a chance once in awhile.

Your Inner Dream number is: 9

An Inner Dream number of 9 means:
You dream of being creative, intellectual, and universal; the selfless humanitarian. You understand the needy and want to help them. You would love to be a person people count on for support and advice.

jeremydowns — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 16:33:53 GMT

~~locked from people involved in the situation~~

Sammy visited. Didn't yell, at least.

Are You A Sociopath?

jeremydowns — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 21:47:49 GMT

You Are 52% Sociopath

You're not a sociopath, but you're very prone to antisocial behavior.

Other people's opinions matter little to you. You live your own fringe life - for better or worse.

Are You A Sociopath?

And nobody's really surprised...

[locked from helenakitten]

jeremydowns — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 21:01:50 GMT

She's not gonna show, is she?

jeremydowns — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 03:50:47 GMT

"Compulsive behavior"... she thinks there's treatment...

jeremydowns — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 16:33:25 GMT

Can dudes in purple be trusted?

Some OOC Info for Current Storyline

jeremydowns — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 01:37:37 GMT

For any characters interacting with Jeremy, the following article may be of interest, running first in the Gotham City newspaper but also circulating the internet and making national news with all the same facts:

SERIAL KILLER ‘JASON JONES’ APPREHENDED, IDENTITY REVEALED

One of the goriest serial killers in Gotham City history is now in custody, and he’s only 20 years old.

Jeremy Downs, alias Jeremy Moore, formerly of Miami, Florida, was finally caught by Iron Man last night, after a reign of terror lasting months. Under the moniker “Jason Jones,” which he has been known to sign at various crime scenes in his victims’ blood, Downs has been killing an average of one victim every two weeks since the beginning of this year. His costume consisted of only a hockey mask and dark-colored street clothes. His only weapon, a small but sharp hunting knife.

“He’s like our own personal Jack the Ripper,” the mayor has said. “It’s actually pretty cool.”

Downs may have continued his rampage untouched if not for the kidnapping of one-time friend Samuel Ainsworth, also 20, a week ago. It appears Downs was using Ainsworth as bait to lure mutual friends Blair Holmes, 21, and Helena Kyle, 19, to a secure location and murder all three. It is unknown why he strayed from his usual MO, which Gotham Police have described as “hit-and-run killings,” but the sloppy footwork led Iron Man right to him. All three potential victims are safe, although Ainsworth suffers from a heart condition which went unchecked without his medication, and is currently recuperating at Gotham General.

Downs is no newcomer to violence, either. At age 15 he was sentenced to four years in a Miami juvenile facility for murdering an older teen in identical fashion, although he had not yet thought to don a costume. He is also currently wanted in Florida for violating parole and fleeing the state.

He is being held at Arkham Asylum pending extensive psychiatric evaluation.

jeremydowns — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 22:18:09 GMT

First a "monster." Now I'm "sick."

jeremydowns — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 05:30:58 GMT

Psychotic clown is destroying my life.

~~And I might be losing my mind...~~

jeremydowns — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 21:42:30 GMT

At least the weather's warm today.

Insomnia?

jeremydowns — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 08:24:10 GMT

I slept so much last week, and now I'm back to not. I'd call it insomnia except it's so normal now I think I just don't need a lot of sleep on a regular basis.

At least tomorrow's the weekend.

I'm doing this survey from Lorna and then I'll try to go back to bed.

What happened at 10:00 am today?

I was at work doing work.

Where did you last eat?

Downstairs.

What were you doing at 8:30pm saturday night?

Uh. I don't remember. Nothing important.

What are you thinking about right now?

Miami...

Name some lyrics from the song your listening to now?

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns

What are you doing right now besides this survey?

Trying to slow my brain enough to sleep.

What are your plans tomorrow?

Nothing special.

What are you looking forward to in the next week?

Spending more time with ~~Catwoman~~ Helena.

Why did your parents give you the name you have?

No fucking clue.

Is there anyone you wish was still in your life?

No. Well yeah, kinda, actually... But I think he'd be happier not around me anyway.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now?

I hope so...

What was the reason you last cried?

Heh...

Where is your father?

Dead? Or somewhere not knowing I exist, I suspect.

Are you listening to music?

Yeah, it's calming me down.

Is there anything that you are craving right now?

Yes...

When did your last hug take place & who was it with?

Helena the other day when we had a big talk...

Do people ever make stupid mistakes when spelling or saying your name?

Not usually. It's pretty straightforward.

Do you drink tea?

If Helena makes it.

Do you think you'll be married in 10 years?

I... don't know...

Do you know anyone with the same name as you?

No.

Is anything wrong with your eyes?

Nope.

Do you throw your candy wrappers away?

Sometimes I litter... what the hell kinda question is this?

Do you ever write notes on your hand?

No.

Do you cry when you get an injury?

... Depends on the type of injury...

Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?

No.

Last movie you watched?

Sex Drive

Where did you sleep last night?

Here.

Where is your phone?

Night table.

When is the last time you were in a swimming pool?

Shit, I don't remember. I hate pools. Maybe when I was like 11.

Are you happy right now?

... I plead the fifth.

Do you miss anyone?

Yes.

Do you ever try to write with your non-dominant hand?

Why would I try to do that?

Who makes you laugh the most?

Helena and Sammy.

Who starred in your last dream?

A clown... and Jason Jones.

Have you ever gone Christmas caroling?

The hell is that?

Is there someone on your mind that shouldn't be?

There's a lot on my mind that shouldn't be.

How many pillows do you sleep with?

One.

Have you ever passed out on the bathroom floor?

Underage drinking is bad, kids.

What are you drinking right now?

Nothing.

How's the weather?

Cold and wet.

Who do you trust with EVERYTHING?

~~No one.~~ Helena.

Do you talk a lot?

It's kinda like pulling teeth to get me to talk at all, sometimes.

jeremydowns — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 00:41:19 GMT

Is the circus really that fun?

jeremydowns — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 06:49:38 GMT

She knows everything. And hasn't left. ~~Oh my God.~~

jeremydowns — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 14:28:44 GMT

I've never seen snow before today.

jeremydowns — Sun, 01 Mar 2009 18:17:52 GMT

I think I'll just keep sleeping.