#maine discovers massachusetts

[throughparisallthroughrome]

“Got The Blues Back In Boston”

Chapter 2

Pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Description: Leaving behind an incompatible college and profound heartbreak on the Virginia Coast, you find yourself home again in Brookline, Massachusetts. A new opportunity presents itself to you at MIT, joining your brother ben and childhood friends/ neighbors, Anakin and Ahsoka. Despite the familiarity, you discover just how much of a difference 2 years away can really make between the people you once considered family.

Warnings: f!reader, angst, jealousy, pining, smut, masturbation, mentions/descriptions of domestic abuse, cursing, drinking/drug usage, academic obsession, general obsession, hardcore partying, frats, general college bullshit

DISCLAIMER!!! READ BEFORE PROCEEDING: I've never been in an abusive relationship- I've only witnessed them. I'm an aspiring psychology major and have done a lot of research on the topic of domestic abuse/violence. This series deals with this topic HEAVILY, so be warned.

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: I am so sorry this update took so long! This chapter wasn’t actually supposed to end like this but if I ended it the way I wanted it to, it’d be like 15k words. I decided it’d be best to split it up, so if things are a little weird in between that’s why. Thank you so much to everyone who’s been reading and keeping up! Life’s been a mess lately but I’m so excited to put my work out there. Please enjoy! and let me know if you wished to be tagged. As always, requests are open and feedback is welcome! :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

To you, there was nothing more magical than the fall in Boston.

Everywhere you go, the streets are painted with vibrant colors and rich textures. It’s warm, inviting, and the most magical time of the year. Winter was a very close second, but nothing beat autumn. The Tudor-style homes on your street looked straight out of a fairytale, and the yards were covered in beautiful shades of orange, red, and yellow. The air was crisp, and there was always a faint smell of burning leaves from somewhere. It always stayed under 65 degrees but never dropped below 46. It was perfect.

As you grew up, you had always taken the same path to the diner, watching Tuesday night come every single week as the seasons and the neighborhood changed. There was a building on the corner of Maple and Main that never stayed occupied, and you could always count on Francis walking her poodle around the same time. Whether or not you liked it, Boston would change, with or without you.

In Hampton, you hated watching the seasons pass by, especially in autumn. It made you long for those wintry days in Brookline, listening to the boys cheer on the patriots while your mother and Shmi prepared dinner over some wine. You and Ahsoka always did “homework,” watching the game from a distance and mostly gossiping. You’d attempt to watch the game from a distance in Hampton, craving that little piece of home you missed the most. Still, it was always shut down by some “extremely important soccer game” Nick just had to watch. But you knew he hated you for longing for something other than him- what was he made for then?

But as the weeks went by, you really began to notice just how much you missed. You joined Ahsoka and Padme in the library most days, cramming as much information as possible- wanting, well, desperately needing an A. Yes, an A was good, but it was more to make you feel in control of your life once again. You needed the satisfaction- and the distraction.

It would be hard to say you didn’t notice the way Padme and Ahsoka would look at you when they thought you didn’t notice. So much pity. You hated it. They’d have these ‘knowing glances’ with each other and you felt that they were always talking about you the second you walked away. That part of high school you did not miss- but these were your friends, your best friends, and they shouldn’t be treating you like this- making you feel like this. When you asked them, they swore up and down it was nothing, they weren’t keeping secrets, and everything was okay. But the second you looked away- there was that knowing look between them. And it was driving you crazy.

And then there was Ben too, he was just so- not himself. Sure, Ben was always a nice guy, and he was a great person- but he was your older brother. And he always gave you a hard time, just for shit’s and giggles, and of course you always gave it right back. That’s what siblings are for. But after that first night back, things were so different. He was so soft towards you, so kind. He kept checking up on you, asking if you needed help with school, insisting on doing everything for you. It was nice- but it wasn’t him. And it just made you hurt more. All you wanted was for things to be normal.

Despite everyone being different- you had only hoped Anakin was the same. And not to your surprise, he wasn’t. In fact, Anakin was worse than everyone else. But he carried a certain burden with him- almost, guilt? It didn’t make sense to you- none of it did. And you tried so, so hard not to let it bother you, but it seemed impossible. So, maybe pushing them away was the best option. You hated the way everyone was making you feel- including yourself- but only you had control of yourself, so maybe that was your best option.

And so the study dates became solo dates, the family dinners were eaten in your room, and your weekly diner travels were now just a tradition that only you seemed to care about keeping up with. It was fine- you were fine. You didn’t want to admit that you were lonely- but you were, and you definitely felt it.

You pushed open the door to the diner. The sweet smell of apple pie filled your senses and calmed you simultaneously. The same regulars were lined up at the bar, playing darts and betting on football games. At least if Boston and your friends were always changing, Dex’s would stay the same.

“What’ll you have sweetheart, long time no see?” Dex winked at you while cleaning a glass before sliding some napkins and silverware your way.

“Just a diet coke, maybe a slice of pie.” You mumbled out, tracing out the details of the countertop with a cocktail straw. Time had just flown by, and you’d give anything to be in high school at Dex’s after Anakin and Ben’s football games. They swore for the longest time they’d go pro- I suppose engineering is better. Less painful.

“What’s got you so down, kid?” Dex leaned against the counter, grabbing the cocktail straw and throwing it at you to get your attention. You stifled a chuckle.

“I don’t know, Dex.” You sigh, mashing your fork against the pie he gave you ‘on the house,’ “Things have just been so weird since I got back. Not sure what went wrong.”

“It’s a mess up there, huh?” He smiles, and you quirk a brow.

“Up where?”

“Up in that brain of yours.” You scoff.

“Gee, thanks.” You roll your eyes, setting your head down on the bar and huffing.

“Okay, but in all seriousness, have you talked to anyone about this? You’re not yourself, kid. Maybe Anakin could help?” He raises his brows playfully, and you roll your eyes.

���Heh. Yeah, right. Anakin’s been praying on my downfall for years. Well, maybe not. We’ll see.” You shoot a wink at Dex, and he smiles, hitting his hand on the counter.

“You know I’ve always been rooting for the two of you; I’m sure whatever is going on will work itself out.”

Dex had known all of you since you were children, which made going to his diner a familiar, comforting routine. It stopped when you left. Yet, when you came back, it only strengthened the urge to revisit. He had offered a job again, but you declined. When you worked for him before, you occasionally found that money mysteriously didn't make its way to you. He was sweet and kind and had brilliant advice, but reliability wasn’t exactly his nature.

Regardless, you got a job at a local bar in downtown Boston. Anakin and Ben were not enthusiastic about the idea. But the staff was kind, the uniforms were a bit skimpy, and you had gotten to know some regulars. On your first night, you made $400. You didn’t plan on leaving it anytime soon. MIT wasn’t exactly cheap, and neither was Boston.

A mere 10-minute drive from the house, Mazzy's stood out as the most disreputable dive bar in the vicinity. You had done a lot of your underage drinking there, pretending to enjoy the various sports as you drank $3 Bud Light and played beer pong. They had a different drink special every day of the week - $5 margaritas on Mondays, tequila shots on Tuesdays, wine on Wednesdays, and karaoke + Vegas bombs on throwback Thursdays (which was always your favorite). So, it was fitting for you to work there; the manager knew you since you were a kid with a fake ID. He wasn’t exactly fond of the idea that he served you underage- but you had open availability, and they were desperate.

And you were a hard worker, staying late most nights and offering to cover shifts when you could. College was hard, and you didn’t necessarily need to work as much as you did, but the distraction helped, and the money was a nice bonus, too. Plus, there had to be something fun in it for you, too…

That’s how you ended up a champion at pool, beating all the regulars and making more money off your bets than you did tips.

Anakin heard about your little side hustle from one of his coworkers at the shop, talking about the “Kenobi girl who’s undefeated.” He felt the wrench falter in his grip and wiped the excess oil off his stained jeans as the smile spread on his face. Kenobi girl has a side deal? Oh, he’d never get over this. How the mighty have fallen.

On that note, Anakin immediately decided to pay you a visit later that night, not being able to resist the idea of breaking your winning streak. After all, who do you think taught you to play?

Upon entering the door, the loud music and dim lights assaulted his senses, and the pungent smell of smoke and rowdy laughter almost overwhelmed him. This was where you worked? What a dump. Scanning the dance floor, his eyes moved swiftly from one dancing body to another, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. The walls were adorned with pictures and writing, the chairs and tables were in disarray, and the bar was surrounded by numerous cups and beer bottles that caught his attention.

It didn't take him much time to track you down, guided by the sound of your laughter resonating in the crowded space as you approached a lively bunch of guys playing pool, holding a tray brimming with shots. Awesome. Now he was going to have to kick your ass at pool, as well as kick some asshole's ass, and then kick your ass again for entertaining it. Cool. Cool, Cool. He could do that. Yeah, he was cool.

“You cool man? Looking for the bar?” Anakin quickly broke out of his trance, looking at the older, distressed man before him—definitely the manager.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m good. Just taking it all in-“

“Cool, bars over there, man.” The older man pats his back, sending him towards the bar. Anakin shakes his head, furrowing his brows at the interaction. The fuck?

As he approached the bar, his eyes scanned the stools and calculated where he’d get the best view of you while remaining out of sight. He was still a little annoyed and didn’t want to make a scene so quickly, you know? Plus, he needed to study your strategies. How did the little one get so good at pool that she’s running a ring? Interesting.

“What’ll you have, hun?” The older redhead leans across the bar, wiping down the icy surface with a bar rag as Anakin settles into his seat.

“Uh, just a Modelo for now.” He quickly pulls out his wallet and flashes his ID, his eyes barely leaving your figure.

“Uh huh,” Her eyes flicker at Anakin, trailing them towards you as her lips upturned in a smile, “I’ll be right back with that.”

Anakin slides onto the stool, quickly propping his head on his hand as he keeps his gaze locked on you, while also trying to look as un-creepy as possible (it’s not working). He observes you giggling at one of the guys, playfully aiming your pool stick at his chest like a gun, threatening to shoot. The men all completely feed into it. You little slut. Next thing he knows, you’re leaning down to make a shot, your innocence showing as you stick your ass in the faces of 4 frat guys as they whisper. Your pigtails bounced onto the table as you focused on your shot, one eye closed and your tongue sticking out in concentration. His pants were suddenly so tight. What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What could have-

“You know, I’m pretty sure she’s taken.” The redhead pushes the beer towards him, “Otherwise, with the way you’re looking at her, I’d tell you to ask her for her number. Keep it open or close it?” Anakin’s eyes widened.

“Taken?” He stutters out, his mouth hanging open.

“No, your tab, dumbass.” She laughs, picking up a bottle out of the well and cleaning it. “You look like you need to keep it open. And yeah, she’s taken. She talks about him all the time, actually. He’s a family friend- they grew up together. Think his name is Andrew or something.”

“Andrew, huh? Interesting.” Anakin’s smile widens, taking a swig of his beer. You were talking about him. And everyone thought you were his? He might have to play along.

When he looked back at the table, you had disappeared. Anakin tilted his head in confusion, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed on you at the opposite end of the bar, where his eyes locked onto yours as the redhead tried to talk to you.

“Anakin?” You laughed, not noticing redhead’s brow raise and sudden attention towards the two of you, “What are you doing here? I-” You cocked your head in confusion. Something about Anakin’s unwavering smile was so unreadable.

“Heard about a certain Kenobi girl’s pool bets from the guys. Had to see it for myself.” He turned towards you, subconsciously spreading his legs as his finger traced the rim of his beer glass. His pride grew as the redness spread on your face.

“Didn’t- Uh- Didn’t think word was getting around that fast. Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck is right.” Anakin starts, and redhead approaches, pretending to clean bar glasses as she eyeballs the interaction in front of her. “No wonder you’re making so much money. Afraid I’m gonna have to end this streak of yours, though.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes, shaking your head at the audacity of the man before you. One beer, and he felt like he was God? He desperately needed to be humbled.

“So that’s what this is about? You just hate to see me beating you at something? Didn’t think after all these years you were still so desperate, Anakin. I- fine, but what’s in it for me?” You hop up on the stool next to him, narrowing your eyes as your gaze runs over his lips, the honey of his laughter sweet in your ears.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He smiles, moving closer to you as his eyes trace your lips back, the grin growing on his face.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You swallow, sitting up straighter and pulling away from him.

“Like what, Y/N?” He grins, mimicking your actions as he leans back and takes another drink of his beer.

“Anakin-“

“How about, if you win, I’ll be your DD for a month- AND- and- I’ll finally join you for karaoke. And if I win, well, I know I never want to see that outfit in public again, I want you to stop entertaining every guy you serve.” You roll your eyes at his protectiveness, sighing at his request.

“Fine, but only because what I get out of this deal is so much better than what you might get. Now come on.” You stand up, offering your hand to him as you pull him off the bar stool, “Amy, would you be a doll and keep an eye on my section?” Ah, so Redhead does have a name.

As you led him to a table in a dark corner away from everyone, he shot the other men a smile. A boastful smile. He may not have known that he wanted you just yet, but he knew he didn’t want others to have you. It was just him being protective, right? Besides, what’s really the difference between those two things…

“After you, sir.” You lined up the colorful, numbered balls and invited him for 8 ball, handing him a stick to make the first move.

“Are you sure, madam? Ladies first, you know. Chivalry isn’t dead.” He shot you a wink, tossing you the pool cue as you rolled his eyes. He was definitely tipsy. And you were definitely taking him home tonight. Not like that.

You started the game off strongly, hitting two solid shots right into the pocket, the satisfying *clink* echoing between the tension. You grinned. And shockingly enough, so did Anakin. His eyes cold and calculating, he struck the cue ball, the sharp *thwack* followed by the soft, almost silent roll of the red-striped ball across the green felt until it finally sank into the hole. If there was one thing your families took seriously- it was a bet.

You kept the game going, sharing plenty of shit-talking and shots, making sure to feed him a few more (which, in hindsight, was probably a mistake). You hit in your 3rd and 4th balls, your eyes catching the men at the other table. But, as always, your eyes immediately went back to Anakin. You flashed him an innocent smile, not feeding into his small touches that made you dizzy and the way his eyes flicked down to your lips. It’s okay. He was only drunk- and that couldn’t happen again.

Eventually, you beat him. While completely intoxicated, Anakin stumbled, his hand a blur as he somehow knocked the 8-ball in on his third try; the cue ball spun wildly, a final, chaotic movement before settling. You gave him a pass, a condescending smile playing on your lips as you told him you'd happily give him a rematch, though the outcome wouldn't change. Unfazed by your comment, he simply stared, his blown pupils swimming with an unsettling, well-known emotion. A palpable tension hung in the air, heavy with more unspoken words. A sudden chill raised the hairs on your arms, your breath catching in your throat as an unnatural silence filled the air between you. You cleared your throat and smiled, shaking the thought out of your head.

“C’mon drunkie- let’s get you up here.” You held your arm under his shoulder, guiding him back to the bar through the dwindling customers. He wasn't exactly being easy, his laughter echoing in the air as he teased you relentlessly, his hand dropping lower and lower on your waist with each step. You tried not to pay attention to the strange way it made your heart pound in your chest. But you could divert your focus to work- finally.

It was now 2:30. And you needed to get out of there. You carefully propped him up against the sticky, mahogany bar, your finger stabbing emphatically at his chest as you barked, "Don't move!" before turning to whatever remaining side work you had been neglecting. With a shake of your head, you freed your hair from the uncomfortable low pigtails, the strands falling around your shoulders. Okay, you had silverware, trash, bathrooms, sweeping, and-

“Y/N? Can you come here?” You heard Amy call from the bar as you swept, and you turned around, only to see Anakin passed out on the bar. His head lolled against his crossed arms, a soft rhythmic snoring emanating from his relaxed body.

“Fuck,” You mumbled, setting down the broom and running over to the bar, shaking the sleepy man awake. His eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on his lips as you rolled your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Hey, beautiful- you gonna take me home?” A raspy mumble escaped his lips as his fingers, warm and slightly damp, caressed your cheek, lingering just a moment too long. Attempting to ignore his continuing advances, your eyes are drawn to Amy; a subtle arch of her eyebrow and a slight nod toward the door provide your much-needed escape.

“C’mon, sleepy- let’s get you home.” You helped him up again, mouthing a quick thank you to Amy before taking him to the back door.

“I just- I- I can’t believe you’re so good at pool! I mean, I’m soooooo proud, yknow? I taught you so well. The guys were talking about it at work, and I just had to come see it for myself. So adorable.” He mumbles through the parking lot, laughing at his own jokes, and it’s clear he knows he’s not making much sense.

If this was anyone else- you’d be a little pissed off. But there was always a certain tenderness in your heart reserved for Anakin, a weakness you couldn't deny. Taking care of him when you knew you could just, well, made things better. He usually never let you get the chance, but right now, it felt like you were getting your old life back.

With a grunt, you pushed him into the passenger seat of his car; the smell of stale coffee and old leather filled the air, and you figured he’d take you to get your car the next day—payback, of course. You plug your phone in and turn the volume up for Mazzy Star, letting the softness of her voice fill the emptiness of the car. Anakin's head rests on your shoulder, his soft snores a gentle rhythm against your neck as you drive down the familiar streets, the houses blurring into a comforting stream of colors.

You pull into his driveway, the harsh cold biting your face as you open the door. Anakin slumped down further, his head resting on the center console. You bit your lip, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth, as you weighed your options, watching his body move slowly as he inhaled and slowly exhaled, his brows furrowing in his sleep. What could he be dreaming about that was getting him so worked up? You didn’t have time for this- it was cold, he was asleep, and you needed to make a decision.

You couldn’t just tell him to get out of his car and go to bed- he didn’t deserve that, even if he did get wasted at your job. Well, you kinda got him wasted. And if you did take him inside, there was a chance you’d run into Shmi or Ahsoka, and that wasn’t really a conversation you wanted to have, especially considering how this looked. And if you took him inside, got away with not running into anyone, there’s the chance that once he gets in bed, he’d ask you to stay. That would be awkward. And even if you did stay, there’s only a 50% chance you’d have sex again and make it all weird. The question is- were you willing to risk it?

“Fuck,” You watched him sleep, knowing what you had to do. You got back into the car, shutting the door behind you and turning it on. The heat kicked up again, the sound of “blue light” filling your ears as you watched him next to you. You didn’t have to wake him up just yet. Sure, it was nearing 3:30 in the morning, but you knew he was tired and probably not feeling well.

You let out a soft sigh, sinking into your seat, and slowly reach your hand to cup Anakin’s face, gently stroking his cheek as you felt the warmth of his skin. You didn't notice the subtle, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips under your touch, a drunken smile masked by his feigned sleep.

“You’re frustrating, you know that?” You mumble to him, knowing he won’t respond. “But I still love you. It’s okay. I just know I won’t hear the end of this tomorrow. Which- you owe me. I need my car at some point. But- fuck- I know I’m gonna have to get you up in a second, and I really don’t want to. I’m so tired. Fuck.”

You glance over at him, noticing the grin on his face, and your heart drops slightly. “Fuck off- are you pretending?”

He opens one eye slightly and bursts into laughter, his head hitting the back of the seat while he practically slaps his knee.

“I-I’m so sorry-“ He manages to breathe out, his face hot and red, “I actually was sleeping, but you started talkin,g and I just- I got invested.”

“Uh-huh. Well, parties over. Time for bed.”

“No-“

“Zip it.” You grin, your finger against his lips to shut him up. His eyes glance down to your finger, a mischievous glint forming in his pupils as he presses a soft kiss to your finger.

“Anakin, come on. We gotta go. It’s so late.” You grab his face to get his attention, your stare firm and unwavering against his giggles.

“Okay, okay. We’ll go. Basement’s unlocked.” He kisses the top of your hand, turning towards his car door and attempting to open it.

“Wait- Anakin- I got it.” You turned the car out, rushing around to his side and opening the door for him.

“Here, hold my hand.” You hold your hand out for him, and he smirks, quickly taking it in his hand.

“Gotta buy me dinner first, sweetheart.”

“Anakin, we’re way past dinner. Now come on.” You pull him alongside you, draping your purse on his shoulder as you walk around the side of the house to the basement door.

“God, it’s fucking cold.” He mumbles, his hand slipping from yours and meeting your waist again, “Might need you to warm me up.” You scoff.

“No, Anakin- just need to get you to bed.” Mumbling, you avoid his eye contact and open the door, practically pushing him into it.

“Alright, alright, I’m going Y/N/N. Jesus.” He stumbles through the mudroom, kicking off his shoes and attempting to shimmy off his jacket.

Behind him, you sigh and mutter your help, your fingers slow and deliberate as you peel away the brown leather, noticing its softness and the faint, earthy smell. You hold the jacket under your arm, leaning into his back and resting your head on his shoulder. Anakin leans his own head back, his fingers dancing around to meet yours again as a smile spreads across his lips.

“I missed you.” He mumbles, his voice smooth and raspy. You subconsciously squeeze your legs together a little tighter. “Just hasn’t been the same. Just need to make sure you’re okay. And safe. God, I needed you to be safe.”

Your body shakes from behind him as your breath suddenly hitches in your throat. Afraid he’ll see your wet eyes again, you squeeze his hand a little tighter, feeling the rough texture of his skin against yours. But you know he can feel your tears through his thin shirt. And you hope he chooses not to comment on it. He doesn’t. Anakin's sudden turn sent a jolt through you as his arms pinned yours, his brow a deep furrow, pupils dilated with alarm.

“Stay with me tonight. Please.” He begs softly.

“Anakin-“

“Please. Just tonight. I don’t want to be alone.” You sigh.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, okay?” You tear your eyes away from his, leaning closer to his chest as he wraps his arms around you. “I can’t stay, Anakin. I’m sorry.” You mumble against him, but he doesn’t respond; he just rubs your back and drops his head to your shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed.” You break the hug, tearing away from him as you lead him to his room.

Stepping into the familiar space, the soft glow of the lamps and the comfortable quiet bring a smile to your face—it never changes. The posters on his wall, the messy drawings near his desk, the random clothes on his floor.

“M sorry it’s messy.” He mumbles as he walks behind you, kicking random things out of the way as he stumbles to the bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable.” The door clicks behind him, and you fall back onto his bed and close your eyes.

How the fuck did you end up here? You squeeze your eyes, attempting to navigate the night somehow. Nothing ever made sense with Anakin- but it always, always made sense. You let your purse drop to the floor as you kick off your sneakers.

“Ben’s gonna kill me.” You groan as you rub your eyes, not caring about the makeup under your fingers

“No, he’s not.” Anakin’s bathroom door practically slams open as he stumbles out of it with nothing but some low-hanging sweats. You shouldn’t look- but you do. And, of course, he smirks.

“Like what you see?” He asks before jumping on the bed next to you and practically putting you into a headlock. You scream in response, giggling at his childish antics. It was well past 4am at this point. Anakin had to be at work at 9.

“Let me go!” You squeal in protest, the feeling of his arms around you a mixture of panic and exhilaration as he holds you tighter, his laughter echoing. He pulls you up, his strong hands gripping your arms, then throws you gently to the other side of the bed next to him.

“God, I’m tired.” He yawns and rolls over to face you, his fingers moving toward your chin while he stares at your lips. “Need some rest.”

“Yeah.” You hiccup.

He leans in, the warmth of his breath a whisper against your skin, his eyes glued to your lips. At this point, mere inches separated you, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs as butterflies did somersaults in your stomach. And just as his thumb meets your chin, you break into a coughing fit. You roll over and grab his pillow, coughing aggressively into it. Was it on purpose? Maybe.

His hand meets your back, rubbing gentle circles while you continue to fake your coughs, each one more excruciating than the last.

“Mm- sorry.” You mumble, coming up from his pillow- your face red and eyes watery. “Better get to sleep, Ani.”

“Yeah.” He whispers, his eyes gently drooping as they never leave yours. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

“Sweet dreams, Ani.” You hold your breath momentarily and close your eyes as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. His skin was soft and warm underneath your lips, and you realize it probably lingered a lot longer than it needed to.

You lie on your back, staring at the ceiling, listening to his soft breaths as he scoots closer to “get comfortable,” his arm brushing against yours. He pulled you close, his legs a comforting weight against yours, arm securely around your torso, his hand resting lightly but possessively on your shoulder. If Anakin could find any possible excuse to cuddle, he would- especially when he was drunk.

Once you heard the soft, rhythmic snores leaving his lips, you carefully began to extract yourself from his bed, moving as slowly as you could to avoid waking him. You sat up slowly, his arms falling into a comfortable position, the quiet stillness of the room broken only by the gentle rustle of the sheets. Unfortunately, his bed was against the wall, and he was the closest to the edge. That would be something else you had to work around.

You shimmied your feet away, slowly inching closer to the wall and out of his grasp. Before scooting further from the man in his bed, you took a second to study his sleeping form, noticing the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful set of his jaw. In the dim, orange glow of the salt lamp on his nightstand, Anakin's face appeared almost ethereal, his features softened by the soft light. His lips parted slightly, his brows furrowed in a deep frown, his cheek squished into the soft, downy pillow. It’d be difficult to not want to stay.

You finally slid off the bed, your sock-clad feet hitting the cold, smooth wooden floor, the chill seeping into your toes. You snatched your shoes and purse, the leather cool against your skin, then tiptoed to the door, desperate to avoid waking him. The door creaked under your touch, a rusty groan that echoed the finality of your action as you looked at him one last time before sighing and shutting the door. You leaned against the door, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration.

The light turns on. Fuck.

At this point in time, you have 2 seconds to get out of the basement door before Ahsoka, Shmi, or Cliegg confront you about this.

So, you run. Thank god the alarm system had been deactivated (they hadn’t put the new one in). You open the back door and shut it quietly behind you as fast as you could.

“Anakin?” You hear Shmi asked, muffled by the sound of the door.

You raced up the hill beside his house, the bright moonlight reflecting off the wet stones of the path as you pushed through fragrant, moonlit bushes. The fragrant jasmine blossoms brushed against you as you walked through the trellis, then around the corner to your driveway, a sense of calm washing over you. Weaving through the cars, the cold seeped into your socks as you unlocked your front door, but the warmth of your house enveloped you as you slipped inside.

You sank to the floor behind your front door, the weight of the day lifting as you finally caught your breath, the quiet of your home surrounding you. You checked your watch; the faint glow of the numbers illuminated the dark, 5:03 AM. Could be worse. At least you managed to find a secret, third option tonight. No sex, not caught, and you stayed with him long enough he was asleep.

However, little do you know, a certain someone’s younger sister happened to be watching from the upstairs window the whole time. She would save that conversation for later, of course.

The faint sounds of birds chirping signal the rising sun as you finally settle into bed. You’re absolutely determined to sleep in- and so you do.

As the sunlight poured in under your sleep mask, it was too bright to be deemed morning light. You stirred slightly, waning out if your dream-filled haze as images of Anakin warming his hands over a fire began to leave your eyes. You reach up, a fingertip brushing against cool silk, and poke an eye out from under the mask, surveying the bright, sunlit room.

One shoe lay near the vanity, the other by the bathroom door, while your clothes were strewn across the floor in a chaotic pile near the bed, a silent testament to a restless night. Your purse was lopsided on your chair- perfume, coins, and miscellaneous gift cards spilling out of it. The kirkland makeup wipes were left open, a couple dirty ones caked with various shades of lipstick and eyeshadow from the previous day were resting comfortably near the trash can. At least you remembered to unplug your curling iron this time; the scorch marks on the carpet from the last incident were still a fresh reminder of your near-disaster.

With a long, slow stretch, you extend your arms over your head, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders as the mask drops to your neck. Rubbing your eyes and letting out a small yawn, sleep was still taking control of you. With a groan, you flip onto your stomach, the mattress springs protesting beneath you, and grab your phone. The time was 4:36 PM and you had slept the day away. This was what Sundays were for- it didn’t matter. Your eyes glanced down to the 14 messages you had received since you fell into your late slumber.

Ani- 8:46 AM: Thank you for last night. I owe you. Hope you got some sleep. I’m glad we spent that time together. And, Y/N- I’m serious if you ever need anything. I’ll always be here for you.

Mom- 10:32 AM: Honey, I left a quiche in the fridge for when you wake up. Just take your time, everything’s okay. I hope you can rest today. Love you.

Shmi- 10:45 AM: Was that you leaving the basement late last night?

Mom- 10:48 AM: I’m so sorry I texted you- hope I didn’t wake you honey. Just want you to be happy and healthy. I’m worried.

Dad- 11:15 AM: Are you awake? Mom’s acting strange again. She’s worried about you.

Soka <3- 12:05 PM: hey, if you’re feeling up to it we should catch a movie tonight- maybe some mexican food and margs after. lemme know. it’s all totally up to you- whatever you feel comfortable with.

Ani- 12:24 PM: Need me to get your car later?

Harvard’s Elite Scholar- 12:49 PM: Hey Y/N/N, been thinking about you lately. Hope you are doing okay today. If you need absolutely anything I’m always here for you- especially if you need some time away from the family. If you ever want to talk- I’m here. I love you girl- hope this weekend was good for money!

Mom- 1:43 PM: Need anything from the store?

Mom- 2:17 PM: I got you some ice cream. It’ll be good for you.

Dad- 2:46 PM: I just got home. Are you awake?

Benny- 3:05 PM: Can I borrow your calculator?

Benny- 3:07 PM: Nevermind. Found mine.

Ani- 3:53 PM: Hey, got off work early. Need car yet?

“Fuck,” You chuck your phone onto the side of your bed, running a hand through your hair as memories of last night filled your mind.

Anakin’s ‘innocent’ touches, his eyes never leaving yours- unless it waa your lips, his soft snores in your car. And he really begged you to stay with him- telling you that he needed you. The soft glow of his lamp, highlighting every little thing you adored about the man. How could you even begin to think about those text messages?

You leaned back into your pillow and groaned, rubbing your eyes as the sun attempted to find its way into your line of sight once more. Did everyone know your secret? Did Anakin tell them? Why was everyone and everything so fucking weird in Brookline.

With two taps on your bedroom door, you groan even louder as you pull the covers over your head. You eyes were heavy, the yawns persisted. You were still exhausted. The taps continued.

“Who is it?” You croaked out as the door opened slowly.

“Hey- woah. Are you okay?” Ben asked as he welcomed himself into your room, plopping onto the bed beside you.

“Yeah,” You bring the covers up further on your chest, eyeing your clothes on the floor. “Just tired.”

“Y/N-“

“I know it’s well past 4. I had a late night.”

“Are you okay?” Ben scoots closer, his brows furrowed as he surveyed your face for any hint of injury or sadness.

“Ben- I’m fine. Anakin came in last night and got wasted while we played pool- well, it was kinda my fault. Anyways, I had to take him home and I didn’t get to sleep until around 5ish. And this weekend was long. I’m exhausted. I still have to study, do some laundry, pick up my fucking car-“

“Slow down.” Ben smiles, “Everything’s going to be okay. You don’t need to be worried anymore, you’re okay.”

You squint your eyes at his words, an undertone behind them you can’t make out.

“What do you mean I don’t have to be worried?” You lean closer, cocking your head slightly to the side.

“Nothing.” Ben avoids your gaze, moving back and bouncing his knee. “I should probably get going.”

“Ben, wait-“ You attempt to hop up after him- but your eyes dance back to the clothes on your floor. Fuck.

“I hope you rest today. Love you.”

The door shuts, the latch clicking softly in the sudden silence. You aggressively throw yourself back down onto the bed, grabbing the pillow and squeezing it against your face, muffling the scream that rips from your throat. You were beyond frustrated with everyone and everything. You needed to go for a hike, get a coffee, or something. But, of course, you didn’t have a fucking car.

A long, hot shower was just what you needed; the steam filled the bathroom, and the heat soothed your aching muscles. With a few candles casting a warm, gentle light and the calming strains of soft music filling the air, you washed the memories and bad thoughts away. With each stroke of soapy water, the gentle friction a welcome sensation, your mind wandered to those mesmerizing deep blue eyes. The feeling of his rough hands in yours, the way they would feel on your waist, traveling down to your hips.

His fingers would dance on the tops of your thighs, while his calloused fingers kissing the exposed skin on your lower back as he lightly pressed you into him. He’d lean closer, his soft pink lips meeting your collarbone, licking and biting while his fingers finally met the inside of your thigh. You could practically smell his cologne at this point, your knees growing weak at the thought, your thighs squeezing together.

Your eyes shot open at the next song. Mazzy Star. Your breath hitches, a gasp caught in your throat as your hand, still resting gently on your hip, lingers; the soap is long gone. You bite your lip at your thought, the guilt eating you alive as your heart pounds.

Your hand moves lower- it’s not like he’d know. He’s your best friend- and surely he’s thought of you like that before too, right? And it absolutely doesn’t mean anything- you just need that ache between your legs to disappear. Post nut clarity, right? It'll slip your mind; you won't even think about it again. You won’t. Nope. Inch by inch, your fingers make their way down until they reach your clit, and a small gasp escapes your lips. You’re too far gone.

You turn the water off, the shower's warmth still clinging to your skin, and open the curtain to a cool breeze that raises goosebumps on your arms. You grab a towel and some lotion, drying yourself while moisturizing. That Boston dry air was no joke. When your body and hands are dry, you pick up your phone from the counter and check.

Mom- 5:12 PM: Dinner’s almost done.

The time was 5:20. They’re definitely waiting on you.

The sound of your feet pounded on the wooden stairs as you swung into the kitchen, hair dripping and shirt on backward. Your mom raises a skeptical eyebrow, tossing the salad with a practiced flick of the wrist, the scent of vinaigrette filling the air. Your dad's laugh cuts through the quiet, drawing your attention to the table where he and Ben are animatedly discussing some sports nonsense, their words punctuated by the occasional thump of a fist on the table.

“The Celtics are on an amazing run is all I’m saying. We Wouldn’t be anything without Jayson Tatum.” Ben takes a sip of his beer, turning around and eyeing the time on the oven.

“Yeah, but he’s no Kobe, Ben. And the Nuggets are doing so much-“

“Fuck Denver!”

“Ben!” Your mom scolds, putting on her oven mitts and pulling out the steaks that have been searing. “Stop it with that! I personally like Denver, I think Jokic is entertaining.”

“And this is why Dad and Ben won’t talk to you about basketball, Mom.” You reach for the white wine, pouring yourself and your mom a glass while she temps the steak. Your fingers shake around the glass a little, your shower thoughts finding their way back into your mind.

“They’re absolutely perfect! I’ve done it again!” Your mom cuts you out of your trance as she squeals. “Bon appetit, my little ones.” She sets the table with dinner, and you awkwardly take a seat next to Ben.

As you begin to serve yourself and eat, the hair on your arms raises as your eyes dart between the people around you, noticing their hushed whispers and judging stares. Dinner felt oddly quiet without the Skywalkers; the missing laughter and familiar banter hung in the air, but you remained silent. The feeling washed over you again, and you glanced up to find your family silently communicating with exaggerated expressions and hand movements, certain you weren't listening. Your mom motions to you, her red lips forming a tight frown as she looks pointedly at Ben, her eyes narrowed. His eyes went wide, a silent plea in their depths, and then he shrugged, the movement dismissing whatever she had tried to convey without words. Your dad furrows his brows at Ben, rolling his eyes at the audacity of his son.

“So,” Your mom starts, setting her fork down as the loud clatter rings through the unusually silent room. “Y/N, we wanted to- well- as a family, we wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing since you’ve got back. We have been worried.”

Your eyes darted to Ben. He avoids your gaze, his fork pressing checkerboard patterns into his mashed potatoes.

“I-I’m fine. I don’t understand. Is this an intervention for a problem I’m not even aware of?” You giggle slightly, staring down at the tomatoes in your salad. The table does not reciprocate your humor.

“We disagree, honey.” Your dad speaks up, and your breath hitches in your throat. “Did something happen in Hampton?” Your heart drops.

“No. Nothing happened. And I don’t know why you’d think that. And I don’t even know why the fuck we’re having this conversation!” Your voice raises, your knuckles turning white around your fork, “In fact, even if something did happen- which it didn’t- I don’t see how it’s the business of anyone sitting at this table! Can we just eat this fucking food? Mom worked hard. Drop it.”

The table goes silent. Your mom picks up her wine glass and takes a long sip. Ben and Dad glance at each other, their silent conversation infuriating you.

“Fuck this.” You push your plate to the center of the table, getting up and leaving as fast as you could before your tears caught up to you.

The door slammed shut behind you, and you scrambled under the covers of your bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief. The darkness of your room provided solace within your panic. Your heart was heavy, weighing down your chest with each ragged breath you took. Getting air under your covers wasn’t exactly easy, either. But within your panic, your survival instincts had vanished, and you remained where you were.

Did Anakin betray your trust? Could your best friend- your confidante- betray you like this? It didn’t seem possible. But everything began to connect. The glances when they thought you weren’t looking- the constant texts and “whatever you want”, “whatever makes you comfortable”, “as long as you are happy”. Was this all just pity?

The thought hung heavy in the air: they had to know, you concluded, a shiver tracing your spine. Whether Anakin told them, or someone else heard- they knew. They knew and that was bad and they were going to be ashamed of you. They knew and they’d never forgive you for leaving them for a piece of shit like Nick. They knew and they’d hurt you like Nick-

“Y/N?” Ben cracked your bedroom door open, the small sound of your sobs filling the dark space.

“Can I please just get some fucking time to myself?” You croak out, throwing the covers back over yourself.

The moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his, a wave of nausea washed over you; your stomach dropped. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his hands shook uncontrollably, and his hair was a tangled mess. Ben was the type of person to make you feel unproductive and gross. He smelled immaculate, his hair always long but perfect- smooth and shiny. At one point you went to him for hair advice. He was consistently 15 minutes early for everything, always well rested and read. He prepared for anything and everything.

But right now, Ben looked uneasy- he never looked uneasy. And that terrified you.

“Ben- I’m serious-“

“And so am I. You’re not being honest-“

“Neither are you!” You shout, standing up from your bed and walking towards him, “I don’t understand what you all think is going on.”

“Y/N-“ He cuts himself off, rubbing his chin and shaking his head, “You’re not yourself.”

“What do you mean I’m not myself? What the fuck does that even mean, Ben?”

“Y/N you know exactly what I’m talking about! For fucks sake!” You freeze and Ben stops, letting himself take a deep breath- clearly choosing his next words carefully. “Y/N, you don’t need to hide from me. I know.”

A sickening lurch in your stomach throws you off balance, the intense nausea overwhelming you. Any hint of saliva has vanished from you mouth, your breath caught in your throat as you gaze upon your older brother.

“Ben, I don’t-“

“Fuck, Y/N,are you really going to make me say it? Anakin told me. I know. You don’t have to hide and you could’ve told us for fuck’s sake!”

Ben pauses, his breath catching in his throat as he looks upon your face, your glossy eyes blazing with a newfound rage, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Your fingernails dug into your palms so hard they were close to bleeding.

“A-Anakin told you?”

“Y/N, wait-“ Ben grabs your arm as you stomp towards the door, his eyes filled with concern, regret, and worry.

“Ben- let me fucking go. This was not Anakin’s place-“

“Y/N, he was fucking worried!” He pleads, his grip tightening on your arm.

“And I don’t give a fuck, Ben! Now fucking let go of me!” You dig your nails into his arm, prompting him to let go.

The second he does, you’re out of there and down the stairs. You don’t even bother to put on shoes, your mind fuzzy with anger. You throw open the front door, your parents behind you watching, probably concerned. You let it slam behind you- hoping that it keeps them from following.

The rough, uneven stone path dug into your feet as you ran, each step jarring you up the driveway and into the side yard. You wiggle the rusty basement door, its cold metal chilling your fingers. Locked. Fuck, this wasn’t going to be pretty. But, alas, you turned the corner and walked to the garage.

Your hands trembled, fingers fumbling on the keypad; the button clicked, and the heavy door groaned open before you. You ducked under it, not even bothering to wait for it to fully open, and walked into the house. Shmi and Cliegg were never ones to say anything- this was typical for you and Ben to do. You turned the corner, the worn wooden banister cool beneath your hand, and ran up the creaking stairs, throwing open the study door to find Anakin exactly where you expected.

“Y/N!” He shot up from his textbook, a yellow pencil tucked behind his ear, “Are you okay? What are you-“

“Anakin, what the FUCK is your problem?” You shove him forward, his brows furrow and his hand grab both of your wrists, holding you in place in front of him.

“Y/N, what-“

“Anakin, how could you? I trusted you?” Your hands shake under his grasp, choked sobs escaping your lips while your eyes search his.

He bites his lip, his eyes fixated on you, a dull ache settling in his chest. At what he caused. His hand finds its way to your back, pulling you close as the sobs wrack your body, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the chill of your tears. You freeze under his touch- he told them. Everyone knows.

With a gasp, you shoved him back, a blur of motion, furiously wiping the tears that streamed down your face.

“Fuck you.”

“Y/N, I was just trying to help-“

“Trying to help? Trying to help, huh? Do you really think I’m that fucking incapable? That I can’t tell my own family and friends what happened? No, you had to do it fucking for me! I fucking hate you.”

“Y/N, you don’t mean-“

“Anakin! Will you shut the fuck up-“

“No!” he yelled, his fingers digging into your wrists as he pulled you back. You knew he was seeing red- and you knew he cared. But by god you’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified at that moment.

“Y/N, you need to shut the fuck up. I know you. You weren’t going to tell anyone and you were going to let it tear you up inside until you were a fucking shell of yourself. You need help- you do. Everyone fucking knows it- and not just cause of me! Yes, I told Ben and Ahsoka, but I’m not sorry. I only care about you.” His grip loosens on your wrist as he searches your red eyes for something.

Your hand swiftly meets his cheek. It stings upon impact and he gasps.

“Fuck you, Anakin. You’re dead to me.”

———————————————

Tags: @w0rsh1psells @ursogorgeous13 @tommyvelvet @mistress-amidala @queenofnigthdarkness @nikkissecretlibrary @doblasftcisco @ann4zw @catachlysmicjedi @googie-jeon @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo @anakinstwinklebunny @sunnytotheend @malinadbbdh @ladyanaschmidt @endiara06 @hearts4sammonroe @roryheartz

[primerjohn]

I was awestruck by this display. The density of detail between the buildings, people, and ships, is almost overwhelming. This was the last diorama of the series (or the first depending on which way you were coming from). The California State Railroad Museum in Sacramento was worth visiting for this series of dioramas alone.

*Smuggler’s Cove*

This O scale narrow gauge layout, Smuggler’s Cove, built by Michael Flack and the late Geoff Knott in Australia, depicts a fictional New England fishing community modeled after towns in coastal Massachusetts and Maine. Small and large fishing boats and the steamboat Sabino near the Maritime Museum play a prominent role in this coastal diorama. Look for intricate details such as the scratch built lobster traps, floats, and fish crates stacked on the pier. How many seagulls can you spot in Smuggler’s Cove?

*Geoff Knott and Michael Flack*

The late Geoff Knott and Michael Flack were insprred to build Smuggler’s Cove after discovering the history of rum-running along the East Coast of the US, in the carly 1900s, their inspiration for Smuggler’s Cove came after Geoff and Michael traveled to New England and visited Cape Cod, Boothbay Harbor, Bar Harbor, and Kennebunkport, Geoff and Michael helped to popularize O scale models. <Layout furnished by the Australasian Region of the NMRA>.

[mimi-0007]

Lesson number 2:::. The Boston Saloon, which operated in Virginia City, Nevada, is the only black-owned Western saloon to be the subject of an archaeological excavation. During Virginia City’s heyday in the early 1870s, the town supported over one hundred saloons; however, the Boston Saloon is one of only four that have been excavated. Of these four, only the Boston had black ownership.

In 1863 William Brown, a free black man from Massachusetts, moved to the mining boom town of Virginia City, Nevada. The next year, he founded the Boston Saloon, a drinking house that catered primarily to fellow African Americans. Initially, the saloon lay outside of the city center, but in 1866, Brown moved his establishment to the town’s bustling business district. Located at the intersection of D and Union Streets, the saloon was called a “popular resort for many of the colored population” by the town’s newspaper, the Territorial Enterprise. The Boston Saloon operated until 1875; upon its closing, San Francisco, California’s Pacific Appeal mourned the loss of the successful black establishment.

Today, an asphalt cap behind the Bucket of Blood Saloon occupies the space where the Boston Saloon once stood. In 1997 the remnants of the old saloon were discovered and the site subsequently excavated in 2000. Artifacts unearthed during the excavation, paired with information gleaned from similar endeavors, have provided considerable information about the establishment.

Artifacts found at the site included drink bottles, tobacco pipes, clothing buttons, dress beads, remnants of gas lights, and crystal drink ware. These items paint a picture of an upscale drinking establishment, challenging common stereotypes of African-Americans. Unusually high volumes of dress beads indicate that more women either patronized or worked at the saloon than at similar establishments. In addition, analysis of animal bones found at the site found that the Boston served higher quality meat cuts than the other excavated Virginia City saloons.

With many Virginia City establishments at the mercy of fluctuations in the mining business, the nine years that the Boston Saloon operated at one location is an impressively long time. This fact, along with conclusions drawn from the items found in the archeological dig, indicates that William Brown operated a uniquely successful business. A historical marker hangs along C Street, the main road in Virginia City, near the site.

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Humble Beginnings (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Humble Beginnings

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Joker promises Y/n a night you’ll never forget but when has J’s ideas ever went according to plan?

authors note:

Please don’t throw any tomatoes at me! I am so far behind on my story that I’ve decided to do back to back chapters! No oneshots in between 😤 I’m super excited to see the reactions to this chapter. It reads like a filler, but it’s jammed packed with vital information. Do enjoy! 🖤✨

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

"Do you trust me?"

You shouldn't have. Common sense begged you not to. Apparently, you had none when it came to Joker. You just nodded and did as he asked.

The sidewalk outside Tiffany's was still empty but you paid it little mind. Your focus was on the black SUV parked near the curb. Behind it, you could see the normal bustling sight of Gotham. No one dared to cross the invisible line. Just how did Joker pull off his elaborate stunts, the world may never know. It was none of your business anyway.

You blindly trusted your clown and slid into the backseat only to discover that there was no driver.

You hoped that one would join you. Joker proved in the Vineyard that he was a terrible driver.

You didn't want to relive that horrifying experience again. Yet much to your dismay, Joker came strolling down the sidewalk to open the driver's door.

He made himself comfortable and opened his mouth to speak. It took a split second for him to realize that you weren't in the passenger seat.

Joker's work mode activated instantaneously. It was only a short walk from the storefront to the car but a professional only needed thirty seconds to grab you. His mind was racing with endless possibilities to get you back.

In that moment, Joker showed you just how much he cared about you when he hit the steering wheel with a curse spewing from his lips.

He looked a nervous wreck so you decided to end his mini suffering before it truly began. "Joker, I'm right here."

You waved from the backseat and he deflated like a balloon realizing that you were okay. No one took you. You were safe and accounted for.

He was relieved to say the least but his hands were still shaking. Hopefully you didn't notice.

"Y/n.. ya almost gave me a scare! Whatcha doing in the backseat hmm?" He patted the passenger seat in earnest, "I want you riding shotgun!"

You gave Joker a scare? Now that was one for the history books.

His green eyes still had traces of panic in them and it made you feel guilty. You weren't where you were supposed to be; and it caused Joker to panic. Losing you was perhaps his only fear and it was all because you miscalculated which seat he wanted you to occupy.

All of this could have been avoided if he gave you better instructions; however you didn't want to point fingers tonight.

You said nothing as you climbed over the center console and plopped down in the passenger seat.

Joker simply blinked in surprise. "Well. Ha, that's uhh, one way to do it." He laughed and turned the SUV on.

You were trying to get comfy on the leather seats in your silk dress. It wasn't the same Mercedes that he drove in Massachusetts; you remembered the dash wasn't matte and the seats were cloth, not leather. Regardless of the changes, it was a clean ride.

"The keys are clean my boy."

Your comment made Joker eye you sideways. He chalked it up to one of your Blüdhaven phrases since you didn't translate further.

J hummed in that ambiguous tone of his. "Uh thanks? It's yours actually." He turned onto the highway while you proceeded to error 404.

It was still hard to judge if Joker was joking or being serious about things. He always left you guessing.

"Run that back?" You asked. Ah, he knew what that saying meant.

He briefly glanced over at you before his eyes returned to the road. He wasn't one for repeating himself, yet you were breaking that personal quirk. "I'm saying..... it's yours doll. I thought you might want—"

"YOU BOUGHT ME A G-WAGON?!"

You heard Joker grumble about it technically not being a legal purchase but your mind was elsewhere. Morgana was right. Joker was already spoiling you with things. That sneaky florist knew this whole time!

The devil on your shoulder was cackling for days. 'Good pussy will get you anything. Secure the bag!!'

You shook your head so you could hear Joker ramble off the key features.

"It has custom cup holders, heated/cooled seats, annnnd its bulletproof!"

Pause. Did you hear that one correctly? "J, you're making me nervous." What did he expect you to encounter on the road? The Batmobile? You hardly went anywhere to warrant owning a car. J didn't waste time a second replying.

"Good. I don't want you takin' the subway anyyy-more. If you don't li-Ke this model, I'll uhh, get whatever car ya want but it will be armored."

That was his only requirement and you were reminded of the stale air between Joker and Two Face. Things were unresolved on that front but you didn't know if the former district attorney was the person behind the Manila folder incident. If not, then you had two enemies lurking around.

Someone had The Joker cautious. It was a fact too hard to ignore.

Joker had many enemies however this one took things personal and that made them ten times more dangerous. Your safety was J's number one priority. The least you could do was comply with his wishes. That didn't mean you couldn't have a little fun beforehand.

"So, i-if I want a Prius instead?" You led on. "You'd get me one?"

Joker looked away from the road to gawk at you. The man looked positively offended. "I am noT—"

You started tapping the dashboard after looking ahead. "Brake! Brake! Brake! Brake!" Your poor heels were stomping on an imaginary brake pedal on the passenger side. Anything to avoid a head on collision since Joker seemed incapable of noticing.

Joker finally came to his senses and swerved into the merging lane, thus avoiding the sudden congestion up ahead.

The car behind Joker unfortunately collided with the stand still traffic and began a multi car pile-up. Joker thought you freaking out was the funniest thing ever; you on the other hand were too busy questioning why you let him drive. Again.

No mode of transportation was safe if Joker was behind the wheel.

You clutched your head and stared out the window, yet the passing road signs made you perk up. "Are we headed to the airport? Dear Lord, I can't stomach flying after this." You waved at the mess on the highway behind you.

Joker's hand came to a rest on your thigh, right as he passed by the exit ramp for the Archie International Airport. A part of you wanted to yell at him to keep both hands on the wheel but his hand felt nice where it was.

Joker promised you a night you'd never forget, you weren't so sure when that would start.

"Shhh Bunny. You'll see." He squeezed your fears away. "You trust me, yeah?"

He didn't see your eye roll. "That's debatable." You mumbled.

Joker scoffed but kept quiet.

Despite it being dark out, any native knew where this road led. J saw you tense up out of the corner of his eye. A mile marker made your blood run cold.

Blüdhaven 24 miles.

"Joker, t-turn the car around. I don't..." You saw the familiar but foreign Bl��dhaven skyline in the distance. "I d-don't wanna be here." You whispered.

It was so close, yet so far. You never wanted to return to this living hell but Joker gave you no other choice. He kept the vehicle on its course despite you tearing up in the passenger seat.

"Take me home, J. I'm serious!"

He thought about turning around, if not for an incoming text message on the dash distracting him. Somehow you didn't see it since you were staring out the window in a panic.

He clicked his tongue and exited the highway, his mind racing to work around this set back. Immediately the SUV was met with the rough pothole-ridden streets you grew up on. There was no doubt where you were now. You were getting nauseous just thinking about it.

"Take you home? I am, silly!" Joker giggled. To your horror, he turned onto your old street and began slowing down. What part of this was supposed to be a good night?

This was a nightmare.

Joker parked on the street, in your old, designated parking spot and cut the engine. You had tunnel vision and failed to hear Joker calling your name.

"I uh, hacked your manager's office to get the address. Hope ya don't mind.. But uhhh nice place! You gonna inviTe me up, Bunny?"

You shook your head in the negative.

Joker's plans were already ruined but you just had to make matters worse by being a stick in the mud. Joker clicked his tongue again and came around the SUV to open your door. He didn't expect to see you crying when he got there.

"No. Nooooo no noo. Stop that, Bunny. Look. At. Me." He frowned when you did the opposite. He was getting irritated but he refused to let you see. All it took was a little patience when you got like this. Patience! You know, something he severely lacked.

Joker sighed and reached inside the wagon to tilt your face towards him.

"Focus on me, my Light. That's it. On me. He's not here. I am, and I wanna see your place. Uh, in an old blog post you mentioned you had a errr, nice view? Can you show me?"

He was pulling out all the strings, and still, you weren't budging.

"C'mon baby doll.." J kept his focus on you but also on the street. Blüdhaven was infamous for a reason and he didn't want you outside for too long drawing unnecessary attention. The SUV alone drew enough.

He had a team assigned to run surveillance; however, they weren't here yet due to the setback. Getting you situated inside was his first priority then he could check on their ETA.

That is, if you cooperated.

You looked ready to faint amid your panic attack.

Joker's methods were a touch cruel however he knew facing one's fears helped in the long run. He never fully understood why you avoided your hometown when it was only forty-five minutes away—at least, if you drove fast like him it was.

You had baggage that was long overdue for unpacking, and he wanted to be there with you when it happened. He wished someone had been there for him years ago but all he got was a bad rep and solitary confinement.

Bottling up your trauma wasn't healthy. This knowledge came from experience and Joker didn't want you ending up like him.

"Y/n, you still with me?"

Joker's voice was muffled by the ringing in your ears, yet you nodded your head regardless. He gave you an awkward hug— you still seated and him standing, desperately trying to get you out of the vehicle.

His actions worked. You sought out his warmth and followed the tugging motion until you were standing on the curb. He half carried, half dragged you into the apartment building in an ironic twist of events.

You were reminded of the time when you carried Joker to your apartment when the two of you first met. History was repeating itself. However, in this case the roles were reversed and there was no elevator. Joker picked you up bridal style and carried you to your old residence. Along the way, you came to and asked to be put down.

You wanted to walk on your own and you led Joker right up to the apartment door. "T-This is me. Or it used to be." You blinked and added, "I don't have the key."

Joker scoffed, "Don't neeeed one." His shoulder made quick work of the door and you glared at his illegal methods.

"J, this isn't my place anymore! What if someone else is renting?"

A lot could happen in a year. You moved out so fast that your landlord didn't have time to fine you for ditching the agreement. Technically you still had a lease here and that much was evident when you walked in. Nothing had changed. Sure it was dusty, but bigger pieces of furniture and some personal items that you left behind were still present.

You lifted a dust cover and smiled seeing your favorite end table, scuff marks and all, hidden underneath.

"Oh. Me and Nia thrifted this back in high school!" You were confused why you didn't take it with you until you tried lifting it.

"Yup still heavy." You moved on and didn't notice Joker moving it near the door for you. Anything you wanted to take back, he would.

Overtime you started to relax and Joker admired the way you shuffled around digging up old memories. And to think you were initially too scared to come up here. His Bunny was so skittish, all you needed was a little nudge of encouragement.

He noticed that most of your finds were too heavy, and it made him think out loud. "Was my Bunny in a hurry to leave?"

You set down a box of things, sighing. "Yeah. This is the first time I've been here since..."

Joker noticed you hesitate and filled in the blanks for you. No wonder you were so against coming here. Joker felt like an idiot. This was your first visit since your assault, and you continued to rub in his mistake.

"I moved back in with Mama and Dad. It took months to get back on my feet. Dad and some of my cousins moved my stuff for me since I couldn't bring myself to come back. It was essentials only and it barely fit inside the U-haul we rented. I moved to Gotham with a fraction of my life. I had to start over with absolutely nothing."

Seeing the space around him was proof of your resilience.

Joker unlocked another piece to the Y/n puzzle. Everything you had today, you earned with nothing but grit and determination. He felt stupid for thinking you were a spoiled, entitled brat.

You were stronger than people gave you credit for. You deserved the world and then more.

Joker came over but stopped short of touching you. He was uncertain if you wanted physical contact right now judging by your closed off body language. However, J thought you shouldn't be alone, so he tested the water to gauge your reaction.

For starters, he dropped his unique speech pattern and talked to you straight. A trend you noticed he did exclusively for you.

"Anything you want, I'll have my boys bring back for you." He moved his hand until his pinky bumped into yours. It made you crack a smile and intertwine your fingers with Joker's.

Such a small gesture held a bigger meaning. You silently thanked Joker for being considerate. After a while you turned to address him.

"R-Really? You can do that?"

Joker feigned offense, staring at your dainty hand looped around his rougher one. The contrast in color had him mesmerized but he heard your question loud and clear.

He let go of your hand to tilt your chin up, and his words brushed against your lips like satin. "Sweetheart. Say the word and it's yours. You really should believe me on that."

J backed you into a wall grinning wildly, until you started blinking like mad. "What's wrong?" He knew that trigger of yours all too well and backed off.

You didn't let him go far. You buried your face into Joker's suit and held on tight. "I'm sorry, just a bad memory here."

Seconds after you spoke, you were deposited on top of the kitchen counter. The surface was cool through your silk dress, but Joker's hands were warm on your hips.

He was quick to dote on you. "What's the story?"

A long one if you were being honest. You weren't up to retelling it, yet one look into Joker's curious eyes made you cave. He was earnest in his desire to know more about you and that included your horrid past.

There was no harm in sharing so with a shaky sigh, you jumped right in.

"Um l-long story short, I was accused of cheating after he saw a post I was tagged in with a fan of mine. He punched the wall, almost hitting me. I was terrified he would hurt me, but he 'apologized' with diamond earrings the next day."

Joker looked up and sure enough, he could see the indentation you spoke of. Someone had tried to patch the wall up, key word; tried. Joker saw nothing but red.

"Give me a location and I'll kill him."

You shrugged J off. The last thing you wanted was Joker killing someone in your name, even if it was your ex. You were trying to forget and move on with your life despite the process being slow.

Joker was curious as to why you hopped off the counter.

He followed your path as you hovered near the sink. You smiled at a burn mark you found there. Your emotions changed like a drop of a hat; he honestly couldn't keep up. You reminisced about your Housewarming party when the same friend Nia set down a casserole dish straight from the oven and burned the countertop.

It brought you back to happier times and you were glad to know good memories were mixed in with the bad.

The discovery lighted the mood but Joker couldn't overlook that this apartment was filled with signs of abuse, hidden in plain sight.

You didn't realize that you were surrounded by the signs until you gave Joker a tour, pointing things out left and right. It was nearing time for his surprise to begin, yet Joker couldn't bring himself to interrupt you.

The fancy dinner he planned tonight would have to wait for another day due to safety concerns. Plus he rather enjoyed following you around and hearing you share stories of your past.

It wasn't the memorable night that he had originally designed, moreover, being in your presence was more than enough.

A shame you were expecting something big to occur. He'd make something up on the fly to appease you.

You led Joker past the barren bedroom out to your balcony. It was the size of a broom closet compared to your massive square footage back at home. You really moved up in life and it showed.

"This is the view I was talking about. I used to stay out here for hours. Just me and my thoughts, planning a future I could only dream of."

Joker whistled at the grand sight of Gotham City in the distance.

It truly looked like a beacon of hope from here especially since he now knew about your old living situation back inside. You dreamed of escaping it all and starting anew, and it all originated from this balcony.

Joker's eyes strayed from the skyline down at you.

His Light bathing in the moonlight. The cool blue hue highlighted your features in ways Joker could've never imagined. You were gorgeous, even if there was a wistful expression on your face that he longed to erase.

Joker tapped your shoulder to get your attention. You turned with a soft hum, but it was cut short by J kissing you.

It was full of passion with a touch of desperation.

You weren't defined by your past. You were free to live out the dreams you created, and he wanted to provide it for you if only you would allow him to.

J shifted to deepen the kiss, but you beat him to it by pushing him away. You said something under breath before clearing your throat.

'Always running away.' Joker wryly thought. He had a split-second idea of handcuffing you to him before he shook it away.

He found you removing your heels in order to climb up the dingy fire escape. And to his surprise you were standing on the ledge, Titanic style.

"Uh... Bun?" His hands reached out to balance you. He was met with your carefree laugh floating in the breeze.

"I used to come up here dozens of times, J." You turned around to look down at him. "It's safe."

A rusty groan followed by a loud pop proved your words otherwise. You yelped when your balance gave way to the beam breaking and if not for Joker's tight grip on your waist, you would have tumbled down four stories.

Thank goodness for his fast reflexes.

"I got ya doll! Don't look down... Don'T! Look.." A dumb order to follow when your head was hanging over the edge. You elected to close your eyes until Joker pulled you back over.

The two of you collapsed back on the safe portion of the balcony in a fit of emotions. You shaking with Joker gently rocking you.

"I got you Bunny." He kissed the crown of your head, holding onto you for dear life. You were nodding along to anything he said in your state of shock. He waited for a while before speaking again.

"I had plansss for us to stay herebuT. Why don't I drop you off at your parents instead, yeah?"

This was his idea of a night you'll never forget?

You refused to believe it. Something must've come up for him to be so spontaneous with his plans. J didn't make you get all dolled up and drive you out of Gotham City for nothing. He had to have something bigger up his sleeve for later.

For now, you feigned ignorance. "W-Where are you gonna stay?"

Joker pulled back just enough to give you an, 'are you kidding me' glare.

"Right. Y-You have a hideout here in town. National threat and all. Um, if you drop me off at my parents, they'll hog me for days. I haven't visited them since I moved to Gotham."

Were you rambling? You couldn't tell. Good thing Joker loved your voice and had the patience to listen to what you had to say. He just repositioned you better on his lap and played with your gold bracelet as you filled in the silence.

He hated that you got so pretty all for nothing. Joker was getting fed up with this coward following him around and threatening your safety.

He'd get to the bottom of that situation later. As for now..

"Then stay as long as ya like." Joker chimed in. He regretted saying it the second it left his lips.

You twisted around until you saw Joker's eyes alit by the moon. He looked sincere yet you spotted his curt smile. The boy was drowning in self loathing.

You called his bluff. "I thought this trip was about us."

"It issssss. I'll uh find something to do while you visit the folks." His eerie smirk made you wince.

"Let me guess you'll commit some elaborate crime that'll attract Nightwing's attention?" Your fingers toyed with the lapels on J's suit. "Please don't stir up too much trouble, J. Blüdhaven is a lot different than—"

Joker's huff cut you off, and a shiver went down your spine hearing his voice drop an octave. "Thanks for the warning, Sugar but that's the goal. I wanT to cause a fuss. Ya see... I have some uh, loose ends, and whaddya know? I brought scissors."

You gulped and rested your head back on Joker's chest. If you ignored his ominous words, then they wouldn't affect you.

That straight up sounded like a hit list waiting to happen. You wanted no parts in Joker's line of work.

After a while, only the sound from the nearby interstate and the feeling of Joker's fingers running up your spine was relevant. Your mind was adrift with imaginary scenarios where Joker could meet your parents, but alas it was too risky.

Not only did your dad used to run the streets back in the day, he still had active connections and would recognize Joker on the spot. Plus, your mom was like the female version of Sherlock.

Joker wouldn't stand a chance. But a girl could wish. And your clown was already ten steps ahead of you plotting ways to make it happen.

He had to make up for this failure of a date somehow.

Joker let you drive the way back to your parents. Not because you were terrified of his driving, (he just giggled at your seething glare when he accidentally went down a one-way street), but the neighborhood was hard to give verbal directions to.

Little did you know, Joker knew exactly where your parents lived but that was a tidbit for another day.

He rather enjoyed watching you behind the wheel. Like a true Blüdhaven native, you drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, riding low. You navigated past potholes with ease and your driving skills were far more impressive since Joker held your heels, allowing you to drive barefoot.

His girl was a sight to see, and he told you this at every stop light. You tried to not let J's words make you flustered but with his silver tongue that feat was virtually impossible.

You pulled the SUV a few cars down from the house and shifted into park. The street was so familiar yet foreign, it gave you Deja vu.

You used to read books at the basketball court down the corner and you busted your lip open skating into Ms. Morrison's mailbox one Saturday afternoon a few yards away. It was still bent at an odd angle if you squinted hard enough...

"Everything alright?" Joker's voice brought you back to the present.

"Y-yeah, sorry. Um can you hand me my shoes and I'll be outta your hair."

You yelped when Joker yanked you over the console by the back of your neck. His shaky breath fanned over your lips like a dragon's ire. "You.. are.. noT.. a.. burden, my Light. Never think that." J kissed you in between words, "I'm gonna help ya with your heels, mkay?"

He didn't give you a chance to argue. J was already out of his seat and walking around the back of the car to the driver's side. Joker opened the door and made grabby hands at your feet. You bent your leg so it stuck out the car and into Joker's awaiting hand. His hands were so warm against your skin and it made you shiver.

And of course, Joker noticed. All he did was snort and resume his task.

He fastened your heels back onto your feet and helped you step out of the SUV. The engine was still running but you stared up at Joker, waiting for a proper goodbye.

You and Joker were two idiots standing in the street, just staring at each other. Thankfully it was dark enough so that noisy neighbors couldn't peer out of their windows and see you embracing The Joker.

Now that would be a fun welcome home surprise. You rather not be the talk of town for a second time, thank you very much.

You didn't know what to say so you blurted out the first thing on your mind. "I'll call you I guess?"

Joker hummed. It sounded like an affirmative, yet his hands were like iron bars around your waist. You tried leaning away, his hands simply tightened further. "J... are you gonna let me go?"

An approaching car's headlights lit up the street, and it startled Joker out of his random head space.

He finally released you onto the sidewalk. It was your cue to walk to the door, even if you didn't understand Joker's odd way of saying goodbye. He was still staring as you headed up the stoop. He was acting weird, yet you chose not to dwell on it too much.

Nineteen knocks later and your mother answered the door in her bathrobe wielding a bat. The sight made you arch an eyebrow.

"Who the f—Y/n that you? MY BABY!" She dropped the bat to sweep you up into her arms. "Oh! Do you know what time it is?! Honey! Our baby is here!!!"

Your dad was already making his way down the hallway loading his handgun. Just what time was it anyway for this type of greeting?! You had no clue. The second dad saw you standing in the doorway, his entire demeanor changed, and he concealed his weapon.

It was a reunion scene straight from a hallmark movie and Joker rolled his eyes after seeing the door close with you safely inside. His eyes never strayed from the front door as he made a phone call.

"501 Dorset. Three friendlies. 24/7 watch." He hung up before driving away.

It wasn't the memorable night he planned by any means, but seeing your heartfelt smile while reuniting with your parents would have to suffice. His Light was safe enough for him to go out and get some answers.

He wanted to know more about your past, and your hometown was filled with leads. All he needed was someone who would itch his ears.

The following morning was just like any other in the Y/L/N household. Your mom cooked breakfast and the heavenly smell floated up the stairs and roused you awake. You were always the last down. Somethings just never changed.

Dad was reading the second page of the newspaper by the time you shuffled down the stairs still in your pjs and bonnet.

"Morning, sweetheart. You hungry?" Mama asked, already piling food onto your favorite plate and sliding it on the table. You thanked her after saying grace and grabbed a fork.

At least your dad waited until you had scarfed down half the plate to start his interrogation.

"How did ya get here so late? I hope you weren't out alone." He rubbed his arm where your mom hit him with her spatula. She was thinking the same thing! Why keep it hush?

He had already called in from work to spend time with his girls. It was a rare visit indeed, and he wouldn't miss it for the world. Luckily, your mom also had the next few days off from the hospital.

They had all day to get some answers.

You choked on your eggs. "Um, a... um friend d-dropped me off." You focused your eyes on the horizon in your coffee mug.

"Teh. You mean the shady lookin' friend in the all black G-Wagon?" He pestered. Your mom turned the stove off and came over to the table with her own plate piled high.

"G Wagon? Should I know what that is?" Your mom asked out loud. You smiled watching dad hold out a chair for her and then push her up to the table. Ugh, they were so cute it gave you a toothache.

He kissed her forehead before sitting back down, "It's the obvious choice with armored vehicles. That or a Rover. Are you keeping your head on the swivel?" You noticed the gleam in his eye and the hidden message behind it.

"I'm not in anything dad, I promise. It's just a friend."

He nodded; content for now until your mom spoke up, pointing her breakfast sausage at you.

"At that time of night, a friend would've walked you up dear. Or at least came in to say hello. They got any manners?"

She had a point and you winced in hindsight. Manners were a big thing to your family. You stammered an excuse. "Yes ma'am.. but.."

"Is this that same Prince Charming fellow Dick was going on about at dinner?"

Bruh, your dad was on your neck! There was no time to breathe! You never lied to your parents before and you certainly weren't about to start now. You pushed your egg whites around on the plate and caved.

"Um... yes?" You knew their reaction would be instant.

"AND HE DIDN'T COME IN 'N SAY HELLO?!" Mama cried, followed by your dad rubbing his temples. Well, this wasn't good.

How could you get out of this barrage of questions and paint Joker in a good light? Not like he'd ever meet them, but still you wanted him to have a good rapport with your family. "Mama, he's like really shy around others.."

You knew you said the wrong thing when dad smacked his paper down on the table. "What grown man is shy, Y/n? Ain't you into mature men?"

You pulled a face and glanced at your mother.

She snickered and bit into her toast. There were no secrets, and you were open about everything to them, but it was still awkward to discuss your preferences in men with your parents.

"Um yes dad... I am. B-but, in this situation, just..." you took a deep breath, "Could you please respect his boundaries?"

"Will his boundaries allow us to meet and judge if he's good enough for our Y/n/n?" Mama argued.

And that's where you drew a blank.

Realistically you knew Joker would never meet your parents, however staying quiet would only rouse their curiosity. You had to come up with some sort of answer and fast. Then you remembered the mother-daughter conversation you had with Ma back at your place. A lightbulb went off in your head.

"I'm not sure Mama. Remember I told you, it's not really a permanent relationship. If you want to meet hi—"

"Whatchu mean it ain't permanent? Is he stringing you along? Do I need to call your uncle?" Your dad asked.

You paled. "God no." That's the last thing you needed in your chaotic life.

Even your mother was on edge. "Honey, I doubt it's that serious, right Y/n? No need to get... them involved. Just you wait! Our daughter's got good taste. This mysterious man will come around." She nodded once and that was the end of that.

You exhaled in relief, but the weight of her words sank to your gut.

You didn't have good taste at all. You didn't have the heart to tell your family you were dating the most dangerous criminal in the country or the fact that you were uncertain of the outcome. Would Joker let you walk away from this relationship alive, or would you be another one of his nameless victims, lost to time? Something told you it would probably be the latter.

It was a lot to think about over breakfast. A lulling silence settled over the kitchen until your mother broke it with her cheery voice.

"Oh! Y/n! Since you're here, why don't we go out as a family?"

It was the least you could do, so you swiftly replied.

"Yeah sure Mama. I need something to wear though." You played with a loose thread on your pajama pants. After the shock of you being on their front stoop wore off, Mom and Dad ushered you inside and caught up on lost time, despite it being the dead of night.

Mama commented on your beautiful outfit and you asked to change into something more comfortable before continuing the family chitchat. You donned an old high school spirit shirt and the threadbare pants that you wore now.

The three of you talked for hours until sleep out won the excitement. Now as for going out in public, you weren't so sure you had anything suitable left in your closet upstairs.

"Well, I think I have something that could fit you, at least till we get to a store. It's nothing like your fancy designer clothes." She thought back to your pretty dress that you came in wearing. She hadn't seen you dressed up in ages!

Which reminded her. Your mom turned to your father, "Do you have any plans for today, honey?"

"Nah. I wanna tag along with my two favorite girls. All I'm askin' is to be fed. How about.. we go to Vincent's later? You remember their brown butter and sage gnocchi? Man, you love that stuff, Y/n/n." He scratched his neck, hoping he didn't ruin the moment. Even your mother held her breath at the mere suggestion.

You tensed for a second but nodded. "Omg, yes! I've been craving it actually!" You admitted. Mom reached across the table to grab your hand.

"Will you be okay going there dear? We can always order take-out.."

"I-I think I'll be okay." You caught the hesitant look your parents gave each other. "Seriously. It's cool. I can't condemn Vincent for someone else's actions. Plus, his food is too good to boycott." You squeezed her hand back. I'll be okay.

"Well that settles it. Everyone get ready and we'll hit the towns!"

A day out with your parents was just what the doctor prescribed.

Downtown Blüdhaven was just as you remembered it. Granted it was just as bad as Gotham, (if not worse) you felt a sense of comfort walking around. Perhaps because you knew the people here. You shopped at that drug store for years and knew the workers therein. You and some old school buddies accidentally broke the window at that diner on the corner.

It was nostalgia at its finest, only downside was that your success in Gotham followed you home. You were spotted walking around and by midday, your mom had to say something.

"Sweetheart! I didn't know you were so... famous." She was awestruck when a group of teenagers squealed and asked for your autograph inside the mall. You just smiled, signed their items, and even took a selfie with them—as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Yeah well.. I'm a successful author mama. It's kinda part of the job." Dad was skeptical but he enjoyed acting like your bodyguard for the day and he took his job very seriously.

The two bodyguards that Joker officially assigned over you simply rolled their eyes but didn't dare talk down to your father figure. They both shared a look and passed along a message to J as to who your father was.

To avoid any future run ins with fans, you decided to make a quick post online. Dad guided you over to a nice backdrop and you whipped out your phone.

"Hey hi everyone! I'm back home, taking a break if you will with the 'rents. My adoring mother and father," you flipped the lens to show your mom hiding behind dad. Dad gave a weak two finger salute in her stead.

Your bell like laughter was captured on camera. "I forgot; she's camera shy. But um.. Yeah! I'm in Blüdhaven for the day super casual, so please be mindful of my privacy. Love and kisses!"

You hit send and glanced up hearing your dad's soft laugh. "Look at my Y/n overcoming her anxiety and talking to people!" He was about to nuzzle your hair, but Mama swooped in to save the day. "Not on the twist out!!"

Your hair was looking bomb after she gave it some much needed blue magic moisture and love this morning. She was protecting her masterpiece with an iron fist.

Dad rolled his eyes and tossed his arms around both you and Mama's shoulder. "I think it's time I fed my girls. Who's hungry?"

Your stomach cried out the loudest and you slapped a hand over it, embarrassed. And on that note, it was time to head out.

The restaurant wasn't too far of a walk, but you could feel a change in the air. You noticed the street sign and shivered. Highland and Bicchieri. It gave you the ick.

"We can go somewhere else if you're not ready, Y/n."

It didn't matter which one of them said it, your parents were a collective unit whenever it came to your comfort. Dad kept his distance all day, but you shocked him by initiating physical contact. It made him happy knowing you were healing but he couldn't help but worry that eating here would be counterproductive.

You hugged his arm closer to you for support. "I'm alright. I'm not going to boycott Vincent's food just because of one bad apple. I'm hungry! Let's go!" With a nod to yourself, you entered the building—leaving them outside.

"I got a bad feelin' about this." Mom sighed. Your dad silently agreed.

They walked in right as you were being ushered back by the hostess. "Right this way." She nodded at your parents and guided the three of you back to a cozy area of the restaurant.

Exposed brick and antique lights were the theme throughout. The building itself was one of the founding structures in the city, dating back to the 1900's and the Bicchieri family owned it for almost all of its history. If these walls could talk...

Menus were handed out and the hostess bid the three of you a nice meal before leaving.

Everything was going smoothly until a waiter came over to start out the table and locked eyes with you. "Y/n?"

Of all people to run into, just your luck. "H-Hey Rebekah."

And of course she was eating up your discomfort. "Wow. I thought you'd never step foot in Blüdhaven again. Lemme guess. No one believed your sob story in the big city, and ya came crawling back home?" She scoffed under her breath. "What can I get ya? Disappointment with a side of attention seeking whor—"

"We'd like a different waiter that's what you can get us. I don't got an appetite for your f___king attitude." Your mother said on your behalf.

Rebekah rolled her eyes and walked off. A table across the way gasped as in disbelief at what they just heard and started mumbling amongst themselves.

Dad was trying to calm your mother down, he did not want her making a scene, and you slid further down in your seat, regretting everything.

This is exactly why you never came back home. There was no escaping the backlash.

It was like dad sensed your brewing tears. "We can leave if you want sweetheart. Mama is right, we don't have to take their s__t." He grumbled more under his breath; you didn't care. You just shook your head.

"We're on his family's turf, I should've expected this. I just want to eat and—"

The restaurant exploded into absolute chaos mid sentence.

Multiple men stormed the place demanding everyone shut up and stay seated. Your dad ordered you and Mom to stay calm despite the goons going table to table threatening everyone with guns. You were a ball of nerves already, but you listened to your father's soothing words.

He was a veteran to these sorts of things. If he told you to do something, it was for the best. His wisdom was golden in your opinion.

None of the goons made it to your table yet, which you were grateful for, however much to your horror, Joker strolled in followed by Frost protecting his rear. It was something straight out of a night terror.

You never saw Joker in his element—and it was obvious he was a completely different person in public. He carried an air of fear that made the warnings that news anchors always drowned on about, seem tame.

He is heavily armed and extremely dangerous. We ask the public to stay far away if found within the same vicinity as The Joker.

Up until today, you only seen Joker as a caring, silly roommate, and an even better lover. He was never a danger to you—at least, that you knew of, and he never caused you harm that he didn't immediately regret.

The man dressed in a signature purple suit, stalking the restaurant was unrecognizable to you. You didn't know his motive and that made you tremor in fear.

You whimpered and hid in your father's arms—narrowly avoiding being seen by Joker as he glanced in your direction. He flailed his arms at the lack of service. "Cmon... I just wanted a table." He said before demanding for the manager.

Even his voice sounded different. Had it always been so sinister? It made the hair on your arm stand on end.

A man came out and by smell alone, you knew it was Vincent Bicchieri himself. You could smell the garlic and authentic cigars from across the room.

You couldn't bear to look him in the eye. They reminded you too much of his nephew's. And they both had the same pompous attitude. "Whaddya want freak? Did ya get lost on the highway?" Vincent joked. No one laughed along.

Joker kissed his teeth and glossed over the menu that your waitress; Rebekah handed him. He skimmed over the options before he suddenly grabbed Vincent by his gold chain.

"I'm a looking for someone. Someone... veryyyyy special. You ahh, Ital-i-ans are quite family oriented, no?"

"What's it to ya, freak." Vincent spat out.

Joker took a deep, long breath and you could see his fingers twitching, a clear sign that he was agitated. You knew he hated being called names and this blatant disrespect was probably eating at him. Frost noticed the same thing and flanked his Boss, waiting on a command.

The other goons were left to their own devices moseying around the restaurant. You were too busy watching Joker to notice that one of them had finally approached your table.

Joke licked his scars while rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. "Ok-aaaaay. Let's just cut to the chase, hmm?"

You covered your mouth as Joker took out a switchblade and slit Vincent's throat. His body fell to the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. Women and children were screaming and Joker's goons were ordering them to shut up again. The thug passing by your table caught sight of you despite your father trying his best to shield you and Mom.

"Pretty daughter you got there." The henchmen smirked. Your father wasn't having it and politely warned the boy. "Back off son."

"I ain't ya son."

You knew this wouldn't end well when the crazed henchman grabbed hold of you.

Your instincts were screaming at you to say something, (to cry out for J, anything) but your throat sealed shut in fear. Being quiet was your default in scary situations but you weren't alone today. In the den of chaos, you heard both your parents cry out your name.

You didn't hear Joker's footsteps; you just happened to see his green hair out the corner of your eye the moment you opened them. He must've dyed it overnight, you noted sourly.

"Is there a f__king problem?" The restaurant was promptly silenced by his ominous sentence.

And rightfully so. Joker sounded like the devil himself. You almost felt bad for the poor guy touching you. How was he supposed to know the error in his ways if you were a secret?

"Uh no, Boss? I-I'm not sure Boss."

Case in point.

"LeT. Her. Go." Joker's eyes fell to his henchmen's grip on your arm. If looks could kill.. well. Joker had a thousand plus ways to murder the fool.

His green eyes had never looked more venomous and they glowed with promises of carnage. The message was well received.

The guy let go; and you roughly fell back into your seat. Your gaze naturally landed on Joker knowing that aggression would set him off even further.

The Joker you knew would not let anyone mistreat his Light.

Unfortunately, there was nothing of the man you cared about standing next to you. Not once did he look your way. Joker didn't trust himself to. One look at you would jeopardize everything.

If he turned and saw the terror swimming in your e/c eyes, his Joker persona would crumble like the Berlin Wall. He would devote himself to calming you down.

The great Joker would fall to his knees and kiss each tear away, begging for your forgiveness and he would do it shamelessly. Right in front of your parents no less.

F__k, they were right there! All he had to do was bend down and claim your lips for all to see and the truth would be out.

Joker would expose his biggest secret and have zero regrets. The only downside was you. You would suffer the most if J went public with his Light.

He couldn't risk it. No. He couldn't look. He had to pretend you were nothing to him. This was how he protected you. You. Didn't. Exist. You were an innocent civilian caught up in the crosshairs. Joker did not know you. And that happened to be the hardest task he'd ever faced.

Frost was on guard near the door just waiting for Joker to slip up. The second Frost saw you; he knew they were f__cked. Joker was gonna ruin everything being a simp.

Something had to be done before Joker and his unpredictability acted out. This scenario called for a distraction and what better one than chaos?

Joker shot his own henchmen and drowned out the sound of your startled scream with a theatrical gasp. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

He inspected the gun as if it accidentally went off on its own. "Oops." His sinister laugh was definitely forced. Only you and Frost could tell.

Unfortunately, Joker underestimated the power you held over him. You were like a magnet, beckoning Joker to give in with your natural charm and beauty. He always said your tears would be his undoing—that turn of phrase would hold true today. Much to Frost's and Joker's own dismay, he caved.

He looked at you.

He couldn't stop himself, he had to see you. But he would never forget the sight of your e/c eyes widened in terror at him. How it tortured him inside.

For once in his life, Joker felt ashamed.

Your light was shining on him and exposing his pitch-black soul. His eyes quickly averted down to the table where your menu, now splattered with blood, lay.

He gestured at it, hoping no one noticed his hands shaking. "You should uh try the ahh, brown butter gnocchi. I hear it's to die for."

You were speechless hearing Joker stumble over his words and not in his normal calculated way.

J nodded at your parents, who were frozen at the sight of him talking to you. "Enjoy your meal."

He would never admit it to anyone, but he almost tripped on his henchman's corpse trying to get away from you. A second longer in your presence would have ended in the national headline.

The Joker Brought to His Knees by a Woman.

Joker's heart was beating out of his chest and it took him a second to compose himself back into character. God, you really were his greatest weakness.

Joker passed by a petrified family of four table and swiped the wife's drink mid stride. The soda did little to quell his nerves. He couldn't get your eyes out of his head. The image was forever seared into his brain. He never wanted to be the villain in your eyes. He failed you in so many ways tonight. He had to get out of here before anything else went belly up.

Why did he come here anyway? Great, you made him forget his main objective!

Joker picked up movement out the corner of his eye and quickly locked eyes with Frost. The brute spun his finger in a circle. 'Wrap it up.'

Everyone could hear the sirens in the distance. Too little too late, but help was on the way. Joker grumbled to himself and was making his escape when he remembered one small slight.

The staff were screaming and ducking for cover when Joker and his men burst through the kitchen area, looking for the exit. Joker had no intention of bothering them until he poked his head back inside with a polite smile.

"Pardon meeee. Which one of you is... Rebekah?" He already knew but where was the fun in that? Frost was behind him, telling him to hurry it up.

J didn't have the patience to tell him to shove it. He had a score to settle. Joker grinned watching the tall, mixed girl raise her hand in fright.

"Lovely!" Joker shot her in the head before anyone could question his intentions. He admired his work with a cheekily grin. The stunned staff didn't dare move and thus suffer the same fate.

The clown was completely insane.

The terrifying sight was broken up by someone yelling, "J, we gotta go!" Joker frowned at his fun being cut short, yet he heeded Frost's urgent cry. He kicked out the back door and escaped into the night.

Out front, the customers were being rescued by policemen arriving at the restaurant. People were terrified, but this was Blüdhaven. Things like this happened a dime a dozen with a lot more casualties.

Although no one was more traumatized as you. By the time local police officers reached your table, your knuckles hand turned white. Your grip on your seat was the only thing that kept you from launching yourself into Joker's arms.

Despite your fear, you craved his comfort. You wanted the Joker you were falling in love with to hold you—not the scary clown that just left dead bodies in his wake.

Speaking of, you tried your best not to notice the dead man lying near your feet. You couldn't find any footing with the amount of blood under your heels.

Anything else was a better sight yet your eyes landed on the bloody menu right in front of you. The majority of it was illegible now except for the suggestion Joker gave you.

You were disturbed by how he knew what you wanted. It was in that moment you noticed a table within your line of sight was empty. You staunchly remembered two men sitting there before things went haywire.

How could you be so ignorant? Of course your security detail was feeding Joker intel.

Your dad was asking if you were alright, but he sounded far far away. You honestly couldn't hear anything, your ears were ringing so loud.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick." You mumbled before you passed out cold.

The to-go box full of gnocchi sat heavily on your lap the entire ride back home.

Your parents thought they were slick stealing glances at you; as if you wouldn't notice, yet you could sense their pity in the air. It wasn't their fault. The wonderful day out with family had ended in disaster and you had only your lover to blame.

Was it a coincidence that Joker crashed the same restaurant you were dining at? You weren't so sure after witnessing the genuine shock on Frost's face when the two of you locked eyes.

J didn't expect you to be there. But why was he there in the first place racked your brain.

You had a hunch, and if you were right, the logic behind Joker's visit made you sick to the stomach.

Your head was already throbbing from the lack of nourishment plus the blunt force it suffered when you hit your head fainting. Dad swore that he tried to catch you; Mama wasn't convinced.

No one was in a good mood after giving statements to the police, and the three of you walked to the front door like a funeral party.

The to-go box, courtesy of the remaining staff, (you suspected it was Joker's doing) was tossed onto the kitchen counter when you walked inside. All you wanted to do was wash your face, secure your hair, and crawl into bed in that exact order. You had no other interests tonight.

Mama had a different agenda.

"Y/n, do you—"

You didn't mean to be rude but the last thing you wanted to do was talk. You talked way too much to investigators at the scene. Your mom jumped when you slammed your bedroom door right in her face.

She sighed and glanced at her husband, who simply shook his head, stating he was off to take a shower. Some help he was.

She didn't want you distancing yourself, especially after such a triggering dinner, so she tried again. "Baby... can you please open the door? I can help you with your hair?"

A 'go away Mama' was weakly heard through the door. The doorknob wasn't budging either when she tried turning it. Back to old habits. You were isolating yourself and as such, she felt as if she failed as a mother.

"Alright, that's okay. We're down the hall if you.. if..." All the air in her lungs left her mid sentence. "Get some sleep, Y/n/n."

You didn't hear Mama outside your door. You were distracted by your phone lighting up with an incoming call.

The assigned name made you shiver and for once, not in a good way. Should you let it ring to voicemail? You gnawed on your bottom lip debating the consequences. In the end, your thumb hit the accept button before you could regret it.

He could hear you breathing but not much else. Silent treatment it is then. He braved the unknown and spoke first.

"You alright?"

That was his intro? You didn't know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn't that. You choked out a dry laugh and stared at the black walls of your childhood bedroom.

The full wall of pictures held so many memories, it was like viewing your life in the third person. From middle school selfies to poetry night with the club, to prom, and then graduation—everything was there in stunning clarity. Except for a noticeable gap in time. The dark paint had chipped from where you ripped photos off the wall in anger. A blimp of your life, torn from your wall stared back, taunting you.

You'll never forget the pain you experienced that day. You vowed to not let another man hurt you.

It gave you the motivation to reply. "No."

Joker hummed and you heard something metallic clicking together in the background. "I'll come get—"

"I wasn't expecting you to kill someone in front of me today." You muttered. Joker didn't seem phased by the sudden change of subject, although it took him a second longer to respond.

"If I'd known you were there..."

"Oh you what?" You sneered, "You wouldn't have killed them? Yeah right. Or or... maybe you would've waited until I was gone to unleash your madness! You really think that shielding me from your line of work masks the fact that you still do it? I know who you are. I know what you do... It's just... getting a visual reminder is..." Your voice cracked at the end with a wet sob.

"Jarring?" Joker suggested.

Mind the fact that this was your first phone call with Joker, he sounded vastly different than the murderous clown you encountered back at the restaurant.

This Joker loved you; you could tell by the lack of his unique speech pattern. He spoke softly and from the heart. His sigh however was strained, and you noted that he sounded a tad bit exhausted.

It was Joker's turn to change the subject. "You looked beautiful tonight. Sorry I couldn't tell you in person, Princess."

In any other situation that nickname would've stirred butterflies in your stomach. You found a pretty printed two-piece outfit while out at the mall to wear for the day. The jewelry and heels you came to Blüdhaven in matched the ensemble perfectly. A shame Joker splattered blood all over it.

"I know what you're doing Joker." You whispered. The walls at your parent's home weren't soundproof unlike in your penthouse, so you had to be careful. "You won't distract me from the truth."

"B-Bunny.. I don't—"

"Yes you do know. Please... I am begging you. If you claim to l.. ahem, l-love me at all, don't do this. Some things are best left in the past. Finding him will change nothing."

He just didn't understand it! Why weren't you demanding justice or better yet cold hard revenge? Victims were usually angry at their aggressor. You were apathetic. If you weren't going to express anger, Joker would on your behalf.

"He deserves to die for what he did to you. If you'll let me..."

Joker stopped talking when he heard a sniffle. The power your tears had over him should be academically studied. And that same power resonated when you responded bitterly in J's ear.

"What I want you to do is forget that anything happened! No one in this stupid city believes anything did, so... let it go, J. Please. Angering the Bicchieri's will lead to nothing but violence and dead ends. No. One. Cares! Why should you?"

Several minutes passed after your outburst. You assumed that Joker had hung up, but his voice came through the receiver, matching your energy.

"Why should I care? Why should I..." He growled under his breath, and you swore you heard glass breaking in the background.

His heavy breathing was loud in your ear. Joker was in rare form. "I can show you better than I can tell ya Y/n. Watch me."

The line disconnected before you could utter another word.

[mysecretcheckpleasesideblog]

Curious about a book I’ve just started reading…

I’ve just started reading “Ill Equipped” by AJ Lange, and I’m getting VERY big Check Please vibes - and I’m still in chapter 1.

Wondering if anyone else has read it?

It feels very classic CP so far: main character Cam (Canadian) plays for an NHL team (Manchester Storm), goes to a club after a game in Vegas and hooks up with Elliot, who is from the south but is currently at college in Massachusetts, and he plays on their hockey team.

They wake up the morning after the hookup to discover they’d decided to get married during the night.

And that’s all so far…

EDIT: I’m gonna update this as I go as more similarities pop up…

Elliot is called “Chick” by his college hockey team because he’s the smallest

Cam is known as “The Prince”

Elliot is currently having a conversation with a pair of his teammates: “one tall and blonde, one dark-skinned and perhaps too flirty” (ransom and holster?)

Elliot cooks for his teammates

There’s also a Kent-style character, Jesse, Cam’s ex who also plays hockey and lives in Vegas

Ok so I’ve read a LOT of CP fic, and I swear I’ve already read this over on AO3.

The only CP fic that I’m aware of being published was “Like Real People Do” (pretty sure that’s its name…), so it’s quite possible this is a reworked CP fic…

[misery-has-no-company-now]

Florida [as loudly as he can over the sounds of Loui's possession by a demon] : It's either me or it's Maine and Mass!

Loui : finishes his satanic screams and gulps

Florida : raises eyebrow

Loui : shooketh

Florida :

Loui : You please

Washington (probably) [with his eyes watering, gasping for breath] : Why do you love eating spicy food so much??

Louisiana : It's the only way I'm able to feel something again.

Washington :

Louisiana :

Florida :

Washington :

Louisiana :

Florida : Loui, bud- we need to talk.

Texas [sitting down while being flanked by Colorado and New Mexico - who are having a staring contest over the top of his head - and eating bowls full of chili given to him by the two of them to see who's is better] : Ain't nothing here to talk about really, he's right.

Colorado and New Mexico : break staring contest to look towards Florida and nod sagely

Florida :

Washington :

Loui, Tex, Coco, and New Mex : …

Florida :

Washington :

Florida : See this is why I create chaos-

Washington [leaving] : You're all messed up.

[rjzimmerman]

Bri Benvenuti, a technician with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife at the time this photo was taken, holds an adult saltmarsh sparrow. Benvenuti was surveying the bird's habitat on Monomoy Island in Chatham, Massachusettes. Monomoy Island is one of the few remaining intact salt marsh ecosystems in New England and provides a good example of how these ecosystems are supposed to function.

Excerpt from this story from this story from National Geographic:

Crouching, Deirdre Robinson gingerly moves her hands around swirling tufts of grass, feeling for an increase in density. If she’s lucky, the grass will give way to reveal a woven canopy of grasses—under which will be a clutch of precious eggs. 

“It’s like a eureka moment,” says Robinson, a co-director of the Saltmarsh Sparrow Research Initiative (SSRI), as she recalls the adrenaline rush of discovering a saltmarsh sparrow nest at Jacobs Point Salt Marsh in Narragansett Bay, Rhode Island.

With an orange-buff face and streaky brown and gray plumage, the saltmarsh sparrow has a tremendous burden—to survive and reproduce in the ever-changing interface of the tidal marsh. Found only along the Atlantic coast, it solely breeds in the salt marshes stretching from northern Virginia to Maine, constructing their nests in the grasses above the tide line. Depending on the whims of the tides, the nests could be inundated, sending the eggs swirling into the rush of water, and lost to the wetlands.

In their habitat, floodwaters rise higher than the sparrows’ nests about once every 28 days. This 28-day window allows the female sparrows just enough time to build their nests, lay their three to five eggs, incubate them, and then feed and protect the nestlings until they leave the nest at nine or 10 days old, just before their nests are flooded. The timing is so tight that the nestlings often climb to safety in the vegetation above the nest to avoid drowning at the time of peak tidal height.

The saltmarsh sparrow is now facing these fatally high tides more often, putting them in a precarious ecological spot. The Atlantic Coast’s wetlands are being swallowed by sea level rise, losing three millimeters of land per year in the last century. As a result, saltmarsh sparrows may soon be added to the endangered species list. 

But even with such federal protections, scientists are merely trying to postpone their extinction. Studies predict that the species is doomed to vanish from its teeming, briny world as early as 2035 or 2050.

“If the bird can’t complete its nesting cycle within the windows of opportunity between monthly peak tides, that triggers extinction. The higher the tides, the narrower the window for these birds to nest,” says Jim O’Neill, who along with Robinson, is a co-director of the SSRI, based in Rhode Island.

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Having a hell of a day as you know, can I get some New York, Mass and/or Loui fluff that's as angst free as possible pleasee?

MHM MHM MHM YES HERE YA GO :D

Louisiana:

Whenever he hasn’t slept in a while, Maine will quite literally snatch him (he has thought of just pillow-casing this mf) and take him to his and Alaska’s house and they’ll both cuddle him. And Louisiana just accepts it cuz he isn’t strong enough to escape either of them, and especially not both of them.

He has just- full on bodyslamed his friends and brothers and hugged them till they couldn’t breathe

The human(?) equivalent to a puppy

^Especially with the look in his face when someone he loves comes home or enters the same room 😭💙

^If he has his tail out, it is 10000000000% wagging at the speed of light

I feel like he is a really good listener and gives great advice if you need it

New York:

Idk why, but I feel like he cannot tell his left and rights. Am I projecting? MMMMMM QUITE POSSIBLY SHUSH YOU-

He’s also a really good listener but he’s not as good when it comes to advice. Again me projecting? MAYBE-

You don’t have to tell him if you’re sad. He just. He knows. How he knows? Idk he’s got some mind reading type power 😭

^He will just sneak up on you, and if you catch him, he’ll just simply do what he was gonna do in the first place: curl up on your lap and cuddle the sadness out you. He’ll even purr when he cuddles you 😭 Yorkie cuddles make everything better, 5 star rating from literally the entire statehouse.

Has bought and made band tee shirts for all his pets. It’s the most adorable thing ever. Even his pigeons and rats have Queen and AC/DC and Led Zeppelin merch.

Despite basically being a cat/vampire (every gacha oc in 2018 be like:), he actually loves swimming and is surprisingly good at it (I hc him to be either part of the Navy or Coast Guard so- he kinda has to know how to swim-). BUT IF YOU PICK HIM UP AND THROW HIM INTO A BODY OF WATER, EVEN A BATHTUB, HES GOING TO STAB AND SCRATCH YOU IN VARIOUS BODILY REGIONS. UNASHAMEDLY TOO.

Massachusetts:

Actually really good at digital art. He’s good at traditional art to, but prefers digital art (him, upon discovering digital art: "IT HAS A MOTHA-F(SPEAKS BOSTON)KIN’ UNDO BUTTON 🥹🥹")

He lovessss taking long walks outside, especially on the beach at sunset. Has gotten plenty of drawing inspiration from the sunsets and the beach <3

He also really loves plants and nature. Granted, not as much as NJ, but pretty close. He won’t admit it though cuz he’s a stubborn bastard. We love him though :3

Mass gives the vibes of someone that’s really good at bass guitar and drums

I like to imagine that whenever he takes his hat off, his hair falls in front of his face and temporarily blocks his vision. Penn and Ginny love making fun of him for it <3

Hope these are fluffy enough I tried to add no angst, but my finger mighta slipped somewhere idk <3

[truecrimecrystals]

Carly Jones was found shot to death inside her Boston, Massachusetts home on January 29th, 2013. Her murder remains unsolved to this day.

The 32-year-old mother lived in an apartment in the Roslindale neighborhood at the time of her death. She was discovered deceased by a friend who was dropping Carly's daughter off that evening. As the friend and Carly's daughter approached the residence on 28 Fawndale Road, they noticed the door was open. The friend told Carly's daughter to wait outside the apartment while she inspected the scene.

Once inside, the friend found Carly in her bedroom, slumped over her bed. Her body was covered in blood. Police were called, and it was soon determined that Carly had been killed by gunshot wounds to the head.  

Throughout the investigation, it was noted that there were no signs of forced entry into Carly's apartment or into the building's front door. Due to this, investigators do not believe that Carly's murder was random. A 2014 report from Boston Herald states, "police believe that Jones knew her killer and that a tenant unwittingly let the shooter in through the main entrance." Despite this, police have not publicly announced any suspects in Carly's case.

Early into the investigation, it was reported that police were looking to speak with Carly's friends and acquaintances. It was also reported that several other residents in the apartment building were home at the time of the murder and it was likely that someone heard the gunshots or other noise related to the crime. However, it's unclear if investigators were able to narrow down any persons of interest. Years have passed with any updates in Carly's case. 

If you have any information that could help solve Carly's murder, please contact Boston homicide detectives at 617-343-4470. Anonymous tips can be submitted to Crimestoppers at 1-800-494-TIPS or by texting the word 'TIP' to CRIME (27463).

[fallout-fallen-knight]

Fallout 4: Redesigned

In the year 2077, the world was bathed in atomic hellfire, and nearly all of humanity was wiped out in an instant. In the intervening years, the survivors slowly began to put their lives back together. As their ancestors of old had, they formed encampments, which became villages, which became towns. In the Commonwealth, the region encompassing much of old world Massachusetts, survivors began to discover that there was more than just their meager towns, and forged alliances with one another for food and clean water, mutual defense, and other goods. These alliances eventually united under one flag: that of the Minutemen, headquartered in the town of Quincy.

Eventually peoples’ attention turned to the skeletal remains of old Boston, and some forged a path inwards to find if there was anything left in the city. There they found the great green jewel of the Commonwealth: a baseball stadium that would become the mighty walls of Diamond City. Diamond City flourished, but disputes in its ruling family led a group to leave and establish Goodneighbor, a town “of the people, for the people”. For years, these twin towns were major hubs in the Commonwealth, with people, goods, information, and most importantly, money flowing through them. In an attempt to further unite the region, the Minutemen approached both cities to form the Commonwealth Provisional Government, creating an era of cooperation and mutual prosperity.

Fifteen years ago, the Institute emerged from underneath the ruins of the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, and everything changed. The Institute offered great advances in agriculture, medicine, and cybernetics, with one simple cost: complete and total fealty. With them they also brought synths: biological robots who’s body and mind can be molded to the Institute’s purposes, which made up the bulk of the Institute’s military and labor forces. Within a month of their appearance, the Commonwealth Provisional Government collapsed as Diamond City suddenly welcomed the Institute with open arms. As the Minutemen were beaten back, other towns within the ruins of Boston were faced with the choice of acquiescing to the Institute or being cut off from all trade and communication, and found they would gladly lend their flagpoles to the Institute.

For years, the Minutemen and the Railroad operated on the fringes of the Commonwealth: the Minutemen protecting those who have fled the city of Boston in the wake of the Institute, and the Railroad ferrying escaped synths out of Boston and, if possible, the Commonwealth. However, each organization has recently suffered a devastating loss as the Institute seeks to solidify the power they hold over the Commonwealth outside Boston. Moreover, armored scouts from the Brotherhood of Steel, a technocratic cult from the Capital Wasteland, have been seen around the southern reaches of the Commonwealth.

You are from Quincy, a town which until recently was the center of Minuteman activity in the Commonwealth. Late last night, you heard gunfire and screams, smelled blood and fire. This morning you are the Sole Survivor of the massacre that destroyed the town and the Minutemen alike.

Fallout 4: Redesigned is a personal project of mine, as I have grown increasingly dissatisfied with the lore and worldbuilding surrounding Fallout 4. It seeks to rebuild the setting and story from the ground up, reworking most aspects of the game itself from the Sole Survivor to the factions, the companions, the main quest, and more. This series can be found at #fallout 4 redesigned, as I write it.

[transgenderer]

Moxie is a brand of carbonated beverage that is among the first mass-produced soft drinks in the United States. It was created around 1876 by Augustin Thompson as a patent medicine called "Moxie Nerve Food"[2] and was produced in Lowell, Massachusetts.[3] The sweet soda is similar to root beer, with a bitter aftertaste.[4] It is flavored with gentian root extract, an extremely bitter substance commonly used in herbal medicine.

Moxie was designated the official soft drink of Maine on May 10, 2005.[5] It continues to be regionally popular today, particularly in New England states.[6] It was previously produced by the Moxie Beverage Company of Bedford, New Hampshire, until Moxie was purchased by The Coca-Cola Company in 2018.[7]

The name has become the word "moxie" in American English, a noun meaning energy, determination, and spunk.[8]

Moxie originated around 1876 as a patent medicine called "Moxie Nerve Food",[2] by Augustin Thompson in Lowell, Massachusetts.[3] Thompson claimed that it contained an extract from a rare, unnamed South American plant, which is now known to be gentian root.[9][10] Moxie, he claimed, was especially effective against "paralysis, softening of the brain, nervousness, and insomnia".[2]

Thompson claimed that he named the beverage after a Lieutenant Moxie,[2] a purported friend of his,[11] who he claimed had discovered the plant and used it as a panacea, and the company he created continued to promulgate legendary stories about the word's origin. It likely derives from an Abenaki word that means "dark water" and that is found in lake and river names in Maine, where Thompson was born and raised.[12]

[claudia1829things]

"LITTLE WOMEN" (1978) Review

"LITTLE WOMEN" (1978) Review

There have been many adaptations of "Little Women", Louisa May Alcott's 1868 novel. And I have seen most, if not all of the live-action versions. But the first adaptation I have ever seen was NBC's adaptation that first aired back in 1978. If I might be honest, I ended up developing a rather high opinion of it.

Since my first viewing of 1978's "LITTLE WOMEN", I have seen other adaptations. And over the years, I had developed this belief that this television production from 1978 had not been good as I had originally believed. It took many years for me to give this two-part miniseries a second chance. "LITTLE WOMEN" told the story of Josephine (Jo) March and her three sisters during the 1860s - Meg, Beth and Amy. The two-part miniseries opened during the Christmas holidays in December 1861 and follow the sisters, their other family members and friends throughout the Civil War and the early post-war years. Because Jo is the main character, despite being the second sister, this adaptation of "Little Women" has the distinction of being the only version that allows her to serve as narrator.

After my recent re-watch, I could see why my opinion of "LITTLE WOMEN" had diminished over the years . . . at least from a superficial point-of-view. To be blunt, I was not that impressed by the miniseries' production values. The entire production was shot on the Universal Studios backlot and one could sometimes see the California hills in the background. Granted, I still believe set decorator Richard G. Goddard, art director Howard E. Johnson and cinematographer Joseph F. Biroc did the best they could to recreate 1860s Concord, Massachusetts, New York City and Italy. But I did have a problem with the miniseries' costume designs. On the surface, they seemed . . . serviceable for a television production set during the 1860s. But if I must be frank, the costumes also looked as if they had been taken from a costume warehouse for second-rate stage productions. Even worse, all or most of the actresses seemed to be wearing mid-to-late 1970s shoes underneath their mid-19th century dresses and gowns. I was shocked to discover that one of Hollywood's most iconic costume designer, Edith Head, had created the miniseries' costumes. So . . . what on earth happened? Head had created the costumes? "LITTLE WOMEN" was not even Head's first or last period drama. So, what happened?

Did I have any other problems with "LITTLE WOMEN"? Well . . . I did not care for leading actress Susan Dey's hairstyle in the second part of the miniseries. I realize her character, Jo March, had cut her hair to raise funds for her mother's journey to Washington D.C. But her hair never grew back. Never. Instead, it remained shorter than it originally was and styled into a bob. Why? And I had a problem with two particular performances. I will discuss one of them later. The other involved leading lady Susan Dey serving as the miniseries' narrator. Do not get me wrong. Dey is a fine actress and did the best she could. But I found her narration a bit clunky and unnecessary, thanks to the words provided to her by screenwriter Suzanne Clauser's teleplay.

Despite my quibbles, I found a lot to admire about "LITTLE WOMEN". I believe its status as a two-part miniseries, instead of a movie, screenwriter Suzanne Clauser had plenty of opportunities to fully adapt Alcott's novel with less shortcuts and more depth. I have always believed that Alcott's novel was basically a coming-of-age story for Jo March and her three sisters. To me, this made any adaptation of "LITTLE WOMEN" a major character study. And if there is one thing that the two-part miniseries did well was explore its characters and their situations with great depth.

This especially seemed to be the case of Jo's relationship with her neighbor and friend, Theodore "Laurie" Laurence, his personal relationship with his grandfather James Laurence, Amy's European trip and her romantic travails, and Meg's relationship with Laurie's tutor John Brooke. I was especially impressed by the production's handling of Jo's relationship with Professor Friedrich Bhaer. I found it very dynamic, thanks to Suzanne Clauser's screenplay, along with the performances involved. Some, but not all of the adaptations of Alcott's novel tend to forget - at times - that part of it spanned most of the U.S. Civil War. Fortunately, this adaptation never forgot. And as much as I seemed critical of the miniseries' narration, it also reminded television audiences that . . . yes, part of "LITTLE WOMEN" was partially set during the Civil War.

Speaking of performances, "LITTLE WOMEN" had the blessed luck to feature a first-rate cast. I may not have been impressed by the narration provided by Susan Dey (for which I blame another), I was more than impressed by her portrayal of the story's leading character, Josephine "Jo" March. I though she did a superb job in capturing Jo's mercurial personality and obsession with her developing profession as a writer. Meredith Baxter gave an excellent performance as the oldest March sister, Margaret "Meg" March. She conveyed Meg's vanity and obsession with the family's social status and stubborn refusal to give up her love for John Brooke. My only issue is that I believe the actress may have been a bit too old portraying a character that aged from 16 to her early 20s. Eve Plumb portrayed the shy, yet musical Elizabeth "Beth" March. I thought she did an excellent job of combining Beth's emotional, yet retiring nature and in the end, gave a very poignant performance. Ann Dusenberry was roughly 24 to 25 years old when she portrayed the youngest March sibling, Amy. Before my recent re-watch of "LITTLE WOMEN", I had assumed she was too old to portray a younger Amy. But upon my viewing, I realized that she actually managed to give a rather convincing and skillful performance of Amy during the war years (between ages 12 and 16) without to resorting to exaggerated histrionics. And I also admired her portrayal of the older Amy who found herself drawn between two men during her European trip.

I cannot deny that most of the actors who have portrayed Theodore "Laurie"/"Teddy" Laurence over the years gave some pretty damn good performances. But I believe that Richard Gilliland's portrayal of the emotional and moody "Laurie" has to be one of the two best I have ever seen, hands down. His only equal - at least in my eyes - is Jonah Hauer King's performance in the 2017 BBC miniseries. But if I had to choose my favorite portrayal of Laurie's stern, yet warm grandfather, James Laurence, it would be the one given by Hollywood icon Robert Young in this miniseries. May I be frank? I believe both actors provided some of the production's best dramatic moments in their depiction of the developing relationship between grandson and grandfather.

Dorothy McGuire gave a fine performance as Mrs. March aka "Marmie", the four sisters' mother. Thanks to the actress' performance, her Mrs. March seemed more like a well-rounded human being, instead of an archetype. Greer Garson was in fine form as the March family's tart-tongued, yet wealthy matriarch, Aunt Josephine March. William Shatner was excellent as the German-born professor who befriended Jo in New York City, Professor Friedrich Bhaer. Although I found his German accent a bit questionable, I cannot deny that he managed to provide a great deal of energy and complexity to Friedrich's relationship with Jo. Cliff Potts gave a solid performance as Meg's love interest and Laurie's tutor, John Brooke. I can say the same about Virginia Gregg, who portrayed the family's housekeeper, Hannah Mullet. I wish I could provide a better opinion of William Schallert's portrayal of the sisters' father, John March, but his presence in the miniseries seemed very limited, aside from one scene that featured the birth of Meg's children. One performance really failed to impress me and it came from John de Lancie, who portrayed Laurie's English-born classmate from Harvard and Amy's suitor, Frank Vaughan (Fred in the novel). Quite frankly, I found his performance a bit off. Knowing de Lancie for the first-rate actor he truly is, I suspect that between Alcott and screenwriter Suzanne Clauser's writing, the character ended up as a flat, one-note plot device - a situation that not even de Lancie could rise above.

Yes, I had some issues with "LITTLE WOMEN". I found some of the production values questionable, especially some of Edith Head's costumes, the hairstyles and one particular character. But overall, I believe it proved to be a first-rate adaptation of Louisa May Alcott's novel. If I must be frank, thanks to David Lowell Rich's direction, Suzanne Clauser's screenplay and a superb cast led by Susan Dey, I consider the 1978 adaptation of Alcott's novel to be among the three best I have ever seen.

[scotianostra]

On June 2nd 1398 Prince Henry St Clair is said to have landed in Nova Scotia, having sailed from Orkney, this was 92 years before Columbus happened upon The Americas

Prince Henry Sinclair was the son of Sir William Sinclair. Prince Henry became Jarl/Earl of Orkney in 1379. Henry was entitled to the position by way of his mother, Isabella, Countess of Orkney, Scotland. In 1398 Prince Henry Sinclair was the commander of a fleet of ships that explored the North Atlantic Coast of North America (as yet unproven, but with unauthenticated evidence) Henry took the fleet in search of timber to begin a ship building trade. He sailed under the Norwegian Flag, as the Orkney's were an Earldom of Norway at this time. During the visit to North America, Sinclair built a new long ship, and sailed it back to the Orkney Isles. During this visit to North America, he explored an area known today as Westford, Massachusetts. While visiting Westford one of the Knights of his military contingent known to have been Sir James Gunn died. A monument to Sir James was “drawn” by punching holes in a rock wall outlining a Templar Knight... This authenticated carving is known today as: “the Westford Knight .” The Clan Gunn uses this semi-factual "legend" to claim that their Sir James was a discoverer. Although this voyage was recorded by Zeno, his pilot, the records were not taken as facts. Zeno was of Venetian ancestry, and when he returned to Venice, the people could not even believe that there was a place like the Orkney's let alone North America! The world was a lot smaller back then lol. Sinclair returned to his home in Roslyn, when he discovered that the English were raiding his barony. In the rush to battle to defend his people, and the Highland Clan, he was mortally wounded. Prince Henry was buried in his armor, at the site of the present day Roslyn Chapel. Roslyn Chapel, as those who were there can attest, was built in the early 1400's and has carvings in its detail work that are unmistakably rendition of the corn plant (maize) and the aloe cactus , both of which can only be found in that time period in North America. From Mysterious Britain: "The Knight Templars and Rosslyn Chapel The Prince of Orkney was undoubtedly involved in the Order of the Knights Templar, who were forcibly disbanded in 1307, although they continued on in one form or another. The Templars have become embroiled in many legends of mystical significance.

One of the main legends is they were supposed to have in their possession the Holy Grail, and it has been surmised that the chapel is the hiding place for this and other religious treasures, including a fragment of the holy rood, the cross of the crucifixion. My mother told me that the Holy Grail may be in Rosslyn Chapel when I was a child at primary school, she said that it may have been hidden in the Apprentice Column in the chapel. Dan Brown wrote about this about 30 years after my mum told me the story.

According to legend the actual hiding place for these artefacts is the vault under the building. The vault actually contains the remains of the Sinclair ancestors, interred in full armour as was customary until one of their wives objected to the practice in the 1700's. Some of the carvings within the chapel suggest that there was an early contact with the New World years before the 'discovery' of America by Columbus. The carvings depict what is thought to be an American Cactus and Indian Sweetcorn, things that should not have been known when the chapel was created. Perhaps the Templars, who travelled far and wide discovered America before Columbus. "see Clan Sinclair's' Trial in 1997 to determine whether Jarl Henry Sinclair "did it". From The New World Celts : "Prince Henry Sinclair, Earl of Orkney leads the last Norse-Celtic Atlantic Expedition, landing in New England in 1396, almost one hundred years before Columbus.

Affiliated with the legendary Knights Templar, stories persist that St Clair buried remarkable treasures in Nova Scotia, possibly the Grail itself. In 1398, Sir John Gunn died in Massachusetts, where his rockcut memorial and arms may still be seen, as seen in the third pic.

I have to say that a majority of historians vigorously dispute that this journey ever took place, I'll post a link below with a wee bit more info, you can make up your own minds.

[weirdestbooks]

Historical Oneshots (Chronological Order)

More historical oneshots are present in Countryhumans Hispanic Heritage Month

A Concerned Friend:

Scotland has not heard word from England since the Norman Invasion. So when he got the chance to travel to London to see England again, he jumped at the opportunity. What he discovers is worse than being left in the dark.

The Murder of a Kingdom:

Gwynedd had a bad feeling when he was invited to meet with Normandy. He should have listened to that feeling.

The Birth of an Empire:

England was prepared to kill Wales by signing the acts disestablishing the Principality of Wales. Unfortunately, that plan backfired, and now England must deal with the consequences.

The Little Empire's Crush:

Britain (although he is not yet known by that name) experiences his first crush. It's a shame that it is a man.

The Boy and the Charter:

The Virginia character has just been signed. That has some effects on poor Roanoke.

Virginia, Jamestown, and Martial Law:

The year is 1610. Jamestown has just been put under martial law. This action will have dangerous and invasive side effects on the two personifications that make up that land. And both of them are helpless to stop it.

Defenestrations:

The Kingdom of Bohemia has a city called Prague. Apparently, it's good for throwing people out of windows.

Bonds & Bruises:

There are strong bonds that bind countries to their colonies. Ireland despises how his bond with Britain feels.

The Dying Bay:

Plymouth's land is about to become a part of Massachusetts Bay. He's made his peace with that, but Massachusetts Bay has not.

What's In A Name?:

Even many years after Massachusetts Bay's death, Plymouth still refuses to take on his name. The birth of two new colonies begins to change that.

The New Father:

Quebec (formerly known as Canada) has just become a British Colony. Now it is time he learns what that means.

The Silence That Falls When The War Ends:

England was badly injured at Bunker Hill. So how did he handle it when he arrived home?

The Ghosts That Haunt You:

Plymouth had never gotten over the deaths of Massachusetts Bay and Province of Maine. Statehood only further proved that.

The 11th State:

America was so happy that his children were now getting bodies of their own. New York is the most recent, although he has some things to say about it.

Flight Lessons:

New York and Pennsylvania were both born with wings. Their first attempt at flying could have gone better.

The New Century:

As the 1700s end and the 1800s begins, America reflects back on life and how he got to where he is.

A Little Brother's Guidance:

Michigan is unable to see the inner world. A newborn Illinois decides to be his eyes.

The Time Spend In A Gilded Cage:

During the War of 1812, Governor Hull surrendered the entire Territory of Michigan to the British. Michigan is forced to live with the British for two years until he is returned to the Americans at the Treaty of Ghent. This details his entire experience during that war and what he experienced.

Parental Rage:

The system's POV of Ghent, when they get Michigan back.

An Unwilling Reunion:

1822 Annexation of the Dominican Republic

Remember the Alamo:

The End of the Texan Revolution

Blinded:

Ireland tried to warn Hawaii of what Britain was truly like. Now he’s paying the price.

The Showcase:

Queen Victoria had always been interested in Britain's colonies. So Britain decides to show her one of them.

The Discovery of a Kindred Spirit:

The moment Choctaw decides to donate money to the Irish during the Famine.

Mistakes In Love:

Illinois has just learned about the existence of Beaver Island. He's not happy about it.

Shot From the Sky:

The Battle of Vicksburg was a huge Union victory. Unfortunately for the Union, Michigan was seriously injured and nearly killed by his sister, Mississippi, during the battle.

Missouri's Medical Report:

Missouri was a good doctor. He did his job well. That's why he needed to send his brother's medical report to the Army Medical Museum, not matter how uncomfortable it made him.

Peshtigo:

The Peshtigo fire was a brutal fire that ravaged Wisconsin. Both the state and its personification. Luckily, Wisconsin's family is there to help her.

The Faceless People You Have Yet To Meet:

When Hawaiʻi became a part of the United States, she expected many things. However, she did not expect everyone to be talking about people who didn't exist and act like she was in the wrong for being confused about who they were. AKA Hawaiʻi becomes a US Territory, and the states forget to tell her about America having DID.

Texas Gets a Concussion (and he totally deserved it):

Texas is furious after hearing about how the new territory of Hawaii burned his brother, Alaska. So he decides to confront Hawaii about it himself. (A Rewrite of a Scene from Texas' POV from the book "Born of Fire" by @aloha-from-angel)

The Death of Unity:

The Japanese Empire was about to annex the Korean Empire after years of breaking him down. Korea still refuses to give in.

Celtic Brothers:

Ireland is newly independent and struggling with chronic pain and an injury that has left him disabled. Good thing Scotland is there to help.

We Should Know Who We Are:

Finland has been looking forward to meeting the new country of Estonia.

The Identity of the State:

Illinois is in deep, deep trouble.

Delusions and Poison:

Russia wants his “son” to forget his past. And Russia will do whatever it takes to make that possible.

The Independent Colony

Greenland had been worried when Denmark was captured by Germany. Luckily, his people have a plan.

The Power of a Puppet:

Philippines was trying his best to fight off the control of the puppet state put in place by the Empire of Japan. His efforts were not always successful.

Giving In:

The American Troops have surrendered at Bataan. Philippines can't fight off the puppet any longer.

The Puppet Master:

Philippines is now under the control of the puppet state, so it is time for him to meet his new master.

Puppet State:

The Philippines has been trapped as Japan’s puppet for months now, and as Japan slowly breaks his mental state, she has another person she wants his help in breaking. His daughter, Guam.

Strike Back:

Ohio and North Carolina were always the pilots of the family. So when they were informed of the plan now known as the Dolittle Raid, they were eager to participate.

A Concerned Father:

America is very worried about Kentucky, a prisoner of Japan for over a month. He decides to see if the Red Cross organizations know anything about him.

Reeducation

The Empire of Japan wanted the Filipinos to be on their side. That meant the creation of reeducation camps. Philippines, under the control of the puppet state, doesn't want to go visit one. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a choice.

After Death

Armenia deals with the consequences of death.

When The Land Lacks a Host:

When the Allies occupied Germany, they killed the personification of the nation and prevented a new one from being born. Turns out that has consequences.

One Good Leg:

America got shot in the leg in the Battle of Okinawa. The person who saved him was not the person he was expecting.

The Other Side of the United States:

America loves his kids, which sometimes makes it hard to remember he's an empire. Here's your reminder.

The North and the South:

The births of North Korea and South Korea.

Becoming a Satellite:

Hungary is about to become a satellite state. Shame he doesn’t know what it entails.

False Love of a False Father:

Hungary knew the consequences would be dire if he lost the Hungarian Revolution. He still fights them regardless.

The Satellite Inspection:

Soviet likes inspecting his satellites to make sure they are turning out like he wants them too. Sometimes, they aren’t. That’s when things get bad for them.

The Not So Good Friday:

It was a peaceful Good Friday in 1964, and Alaska was enjoying his afternoon in Anchorage. Then he got hit by an earthquake.

The Meaning of Freedom:

Philippines has not been having a fun time in the 20th century, as his mind is ripped away from him again and again. But finally, his mind is freed and he can begin to heal.

Kindred Spirits:

Ireland had been helped by a lot of people during his Famine. The one he remembers the most fondly is the Choctaw Nation.

Successor:

Poland doesn’t think he deserves to be Poland. His father disagrees.

Checkmate:

Croatia has just signed the Sarajevo Agreement, a big step towards her independence.

The Nightmare:

Finland's dreams are full of regret.

The River:

Delaware and New Jersey don't exactly get along. A border conflict makes this worse.

Confessions:

Britain is a terrible father, but he has many favorites, picked because of their majority white populations and their lack of a native personification as a birth parent. Or so they thought.

[tag-that-oc]

HIII THIS ASK IS ME AND I FIGURED WELL WHAT THE HEY MIGHT AS WELL ELABORATE A BIT

So Blaine is a robot made by a bunch of people from a robotic-apocalyptic timeline to a timeline that won't ever have a robot apocalypse who took over the main news channel of a small town in Massachusetts, and one of the people from the future went "man we should get some robots in here to help with the news" so they built a robot to help with meteorology! However they soon discovered that she was actually sentient and that she actually just wanted to go to school and do normal kid things besides just predicting the weather and the future people just agreed to this and let her do whatever

Wendy is a teenager who lives in the same small town and is one of the friends Blaine made at school! I don't know why half of her is a skeleton but weirder things than that have happened in their town so like. Who cares it's just Science

They're also based off of songs :'3 [so is every other oc I have that lives in that town lol]

oh that's a really cool concept! im glad they let Blaine do what she wanted

also your art is so shaped and good i love it

[enortonauthor]

A new home & a new blog feature

Welcome to my new little corner of the internet where hashtags make the content discoverable by more people!

The old blog is still around (link here) so you can read old posts and enjoy all the poetic goodness there, but henceforth, this will be my home for Poetry Friday and publishing news.

Along with a new blogging home, I’m introducing a new feature on the blog: Creator’s Corner!

Every month or so I’ll be featuring another creator who will tell us about the stories they create and their creative process and I'm excited to launch this series featuring author Diana Renn. You might remember the first book in Diana's Backyard Rangers series The Trouble at Turtle Pond, which featured a group of middle school kids working to save endangered turtles in their neighborhood. This time it's owls that need help from Miles and the Backyard Rangers in The Owl Prowl Mystery. I'm excited to introduce you to this new instalment in the Backyard Rangers series, and to feature Diana in the Creator's Corner!

Diana, what do you create?

I'm mostly a mystery writer. I started out writing international mysteries featuring globetrotting teen sleuth, and now I'm writing a series of four eco-mysteries for middle grade readers, featuring an intrepid team of self-appointed young wildlife rangers called the "Backyard Rangers." TROUBLE AT TURTLE POND (book 1) focused on wildlife crimes impacting endangered freshwater turtles in Massachusetts. THE OWL PROWL MYSTERY (book 2) is about some unethical birdwatchers, a celebrity owl, and some wildlife photographers who might do anything to get the perfect shot. (Up next: foxes, frogs and salamanders!) I love writing about nature and about neurodiverse kids. I also write and publish creative nonfiction essays for adults, mostly on issues related to the natural world and conservation. I enjoy verse as well and have a couple of novel in verse manuscripts in various stages.

What inspires you to create?

Travel and close-to-home adventures on unfamiliar routes. Moving. Anytime I can explore a new environment, or take a new route somewhere, I find myself thinking about "home" with fresh perspective. New ideas bubble up. Story problems I've wrestled with start to resolve. New connections between ideas appear. Just being out in the world and paying attention to people, places, nature, animals feels like dipping my paintbrush into paint. I quickly zero in on things that interest me. I rarely get fresh inspiration just sitting at my desk.

What is your creative process?

I spend a while gathering ideas and resources if I'm writing a book. This process might take months. I jot down ideas - maybe first by dictation on my phone, on walks - and if they start to accumulate and I see the shape of a book, I shift to a notebook. Often I go back and forth between phone dictation to capture ideas and then exploring those ideas more fully in the notebook. When I know the premise, the main characters, the crime basics (if it's a mystery) and can envision the opening scenes, I open up a Word doc (old school!) and start writing. I outline a bit, but leave myself room to discover. I take stock every 30-40 pages and let myself revise a little and chart out the next few chapters. I am not a rigid outliner, but I need a sense of direction and upcoming scenes. I share early drafts with trusted critique partners and revise a little as I go. When I reach the end of a draft, I do two or three big revisions, and subsequent editorial passes. My trusted critique partners help me from going off the rails and generally don't let me give up. It's a long process, which is why I like taking breaks to write essays; essays come to me very quickly, sometimes in just one sitting, with very little planning and minimal revising.

Tell us about one of your creations.

I feel especially proud of THE OWL PROWL MYSTERY not only because I've always loved owls and care deeply about them, but because this book comes out of a lot of community connections I have made, from birders in my neighborhood, to bird photographers and rehabbers who corrected my errors and gave me ideas, to wildlife biologists who let me shadow them out in the field. I'm proud of the real science and the real conservation issues underlying what I hope is a fun, page-turning mystery. I learned how to be a neighbor to birds in the process of researching and writing this book, and I hope readers will pick up a few tips as well. But as I wrote the acknowledgments section of this novel, I had the opportunity to reflect, in awe, how many people impacted the writing of that book, and how writing science-based novels involves so much creative collaboration. I could never have written it all on my own; consulting experts and sharing my work at earlier stages in the process than I ever did before is now integral to my creative process.

Where do you create?

I am very lucky to have a home office space, which is where I do a lot of my revising and editing. It's also where I do my day job work, so I like to change scenes when I'm in early planning and drafting stages of a project. Sometimes I write outside, in my son's old treehouse or in a folding chair in the driveway. Often I write on the go, walking my dog and talking into my phone. I'm protective of my ideas and strive to capture them as soon as they come. That said, writing outdoors -- even though it's a source of inspiration for me --- is sometimes overrated. Lots of distractions can interfere. (Weather! Bugs!)

If you could have a beverage of your choice with another creator, who would you choose, what would you drink, and what would you like to talk about with them?

I always love talking shop with other writers. If time travel is an option, I would go back to the late 1920s or early 1930s, to the Pera Palace Hotel in Istanbul, Room 411, and have a very rich cup of espresso with Agatha Christie. I would, of course, choose a time after which she had finished writing Murder on the Orient Express, so as not to be a distraction. I'd be tempted to ask her about her mysterious 11-day disappearance, but maybe instead we'd just talk shop, over our coffee. I'd like to know all about her process, and where she found all her ideas, and how she worked out her plots.

Thank you Diana for giving us a glimpse into your creative life!

Diana Renn is the author of the middle grade eco-mysteries TROUBLE AT TURTLE POND (Fitzroy Books / Regal House 2022) and its sequel, THE OWL PROWL MYSTERY (out August 13, 2024). TROUBLE AT TURTLE POND was named a 2023 Green Earth Book Awards Honor Book and a Massachusetts Book Award "Must Read." Diana has also written three YA mysteries: TOKYO HEIST, LATITUDE ZERO, and BLUE VOYAGE (all published by Viking / Penguin Random House). She has also worked in educational publishing and taught ESOL, writing, and literature; she now works as a freelance editor and a book coach specializing in mystery. Originally from Seattle, Washington, she now lives in Concord, Massachusetts in a neighborhood she shares with turtles and owls, some of whom have inspired her books. Visit her online at http://dianarennbooks.com and on Instagram at @dianarennbooks; you can also read and subscribe to her free newsletter, Mysteries That Matter, at https://dianarenn.substack.com.

Poetry Friday

This second instalment of the Backyard Rangers series, like the first, has many of my favorite themes: nature, mysteries, and authentic, inclusive portrayals of neurodiverse characters (in this case, ADHD). This is a great series for the middle grader in your life who identifies with any (or all!) of those things! On this Poetry Friday, after hearing about Diana's new book, it's the perfect time to revisit this poem from my Spooktober series of poems in 2021.

Our Poetry Friday host this week is Janice Scully at Salt City Verse. Fly on over to her corner of the internet to find links to much more poetic goodness!