#i love how our zoo shares such old photos

[calicomarie11]

Tommy is a dumbass, but Buck loves him anyways.

Just because it seems warranted on tonight of all nights, I'm sharing a bit of my current WIP. This was all written before tonight's episode, so it doesn't match up with canon.

Subject to change before it gets posted to AO3 because I'm trying this crazy thing where I actually write the whole fic before I start posting chapters.

-------------

Tommy threw the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder and wearily trudged up the front steps of his house, ready to sleep and wallow for the next two days until it was time to go back on shift. 

He went to unlock his front door and paused as the handle turned easily in his hand. He wasn’t the type to forget to lock up and it didn’t look like the door had been forced. He cautiously pushed the door open and eased into the house. He set down his bag carefully and grabbed the baseball bat he kept propped next to the door. (Look, his neighborhood was safe enough, but this was LA and weird shit happened all the time.)

Gripping the baseball bat tightly, Tommy made his way down the front hallway, ear cocked for the noise of intruders. As he approached the living room, the sounds of a baseball game on the tv got louder. 

“Goddamit, he was safe,” a familiar voice shouted, and Tommy eased up his grip on the bat. He set it down as he walked into his living room and spotted Eddie stretched out on his couch, a bottle of his beer in hand as he watched the Rangers losing to the Cubs. 

“Diaz,” he said, “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Kinard,” Eddie snarked back in return. “Just stopping by to see if you were going senile in your old age. See, my best friend, Buck, you remember him? Came to my house with a hilarious story about you trying to dump him. Given the fact I had to drag you past that jewelry store when you started staring at engagement rings in the window the last time we went out to catch a movie, I find it a little hard to believe.” Eddie took long drink of his beer as he cocked an eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy huffed and stalked out of the room to go to the kitchen. If he’s going to do this, he’s at least going to have a beer.  He yanked open the door of his fridge with a little too much force, knocking a few magnets loose and sending a handful of pictures to drift to the floor. He grabs a beer and sets in on the counter before bending down to pick up the photos. 

Evan and him in a beach selfie, a shot of Tommy and Evan on either side of Christopher from the first time Tommy tagged along to the zoo, a photo of the 118 in their Halloween Fest finery and a shot of Tommy swinging Jee around in Bobby and Athena’s backyard. He stacks them neatly and places them next to his beer on the counter. 

He wants to put them back up, where they belong. But they don’t really belong there now that he told Evan goodbye.  He picks up the stack again and opens the junk drawer. He closes the drawer again and then sets the pile face down to be dealt with later. He grabs his beer and heads back to his living room and his ex-boyfriend’s best friend.

Eddie is still shouting at the tv when he returns. He waits until Tommy sits down next to him to pout, “Where’s my beer?”

“You invited yourself, you can get your own damn beer,” Tommy growls. He makes a point of relaxing back into the couch and keeps his eyes trained on the tv. “How’d you get in anyways?” Tommy would have remembered giving Eddie a key.

“Switched keys with Buck.”

Tommy turns to look at Eddie, confused. “Then how did Evan drive home?”

“Man, other then the key for your house and one for Maddie’s place, 99% of our keys are the same. I have the spare for the Jeep and he has the spare for the truck in case one of us gets locked out.”

Tommy shakes his head at this new revelation. “Anyone ever tell you how weirdly codependent you two are?”

“We are not codependent, we are practical and efficient,” Eddie said in an affronted tone.“Besides, where’s your spare key for the truck?” he asked, his smirk communicating that he already knew the answer.

“With Evan,” Tommy confirmed. “Which means you currently have it. You should give me those keys before you leave.”

“Nope. You’re going to have to talk to Buck if you want your keys back,” Eddie said. 

“We could trade, Buck’s house key for mine?” Tommy tried.

 “No deal. If Buck doesn’t want you to have a key, he’ll ask for it back. Besides, half of LA has keys to Buck’s place at this point.”

“What?” Tommy said, surprise in his voice.

“Well, dude gets hurt so often and usually doesn’t have a partner to help out so everybody pitches in. Off the top of my head there’s me, Maddie, Bobby, Hen, Chim, Albert, Ravi, May, Chris of course, Carla, and there’s a spare at the firehouse on the master key ring. Oh, and the neighbors across the hall have a key.”

“Why would the neighbors need a key?”

“Buck locked himself out one time taking out the trash on the super’s night off so he asked Rose and Ethel to keep a key just in case.  Worked out, because they don’t mind watering his plants when he’s in the hospital for more then a few days.”

“Rose and Ethel? Does he live across the hall from septuagenarians?”

Eddie huffed, “Worse, trust fund babies. But they’re harmless. I’m surprised you haven’t met them yet.”

“Wait, does one of them have a septum piercing and the other one has pink hair?”

“Ironically, Rose is the one with the piercing. Anyways, stop trying to distract me and answer the damn question. What the hell, Kinard?” Eddie speared him with a piercing stare.

“I could kick you out,” Tommy said under his breath, although apparently not quiet enough.

“You could try,” Eddie scoffed. 

Tommy side-eyed Eddie. He knew he could take the slighter man, but he also knew he didn’t want to. He wasn’t quite ready to give up on the friendships he’d made or rekindled through his connection to Evan. Sure, Eddie was acting in his role as Evan’s best friend right now, but they had their own relationship.

“Why are you here?” Tommy asked, frustration evident. He hadn’t expected that Eddie would want anything to do with him after he had broken up with Evan and he’d tried to make his peace with that.

“My friend is being a dumbass, where else would I be? Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Eddie asked, and Tommy wants to talk about it, but he can’t trust it will stay between them. 

That was always the problem with his friendship with Eddie, it included Evan. He got that they were a package deal, and when he and Evan were good that wasn’t a problem. But now, he couldn’t just unload on Eddie and not expect it to get back to Evan.

“I’m not talking to you about this. I get that you want to help, but this is between me and Evan.” He tried to resist asking, but the curiosity won out. “What did he tell you?”

“Just that you blindsided him and started talking about taking some time apart, that he needed to get out there and explore his “sexuality” and how you didn’t want to hold him back. At least, that’s what I could make out before he doom spiraled and started dissecting the past month to figure out what he had done wrong.” Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. “You know he was expecting you to ask him to move in at that dinner, right?” 

And Tommy can see how Evan might have come to that conclusion when he’d asked him over. They’d been together 8 months and Evan spent more nights at Tommy’s then at his own loft. Evan bought groceries and brought them to his house so he could try out new recipes and he’d started hinting about how the backyard was big enough for a dog and Tommy had realized that half the laundry he’d folded last week had belonged to Evan. 

And he could see it, his future with Evan. A shared home, a supportive group of family and friends, hosting Thanksgiving because Evan really wants to deep fry a turkey and no one will let him try it at their homes. Marriage and kids and pets and joy. An end to the search, an end to being alone, the beginning of the rest of his life. 

And he panicked. Because 8 months ago Evan thought he was straight, he’d never kissed a man other then Tommy and one day he was going to wake up and realize that he settled for the first guy to make a move on him. And then he’d resent Tommy and it would be the beginning of the end. 

So instead of asking Evan to move in, he’d sent him away. At least, he’d tried to. 

He’d stumbled through a standard break up speech, the kind of thing he’d heard dozens of times during his life. It’s not you, it’s me. This is moving too fast. I think we should take some time apart, explore our options. 

And Evan had frowned at him, his brow furrowed as if Tommy was speaking a foreign language. He’d stuttered out a “Wh-what the fuck are you talking about?”midway through Tommy’s speech and then as Tommy kept trying to make him understand he’d started laughing. He’d actually patted the back of Tommy’s hand and said simply “No.”

It had stopped Tommy in his tracks. “No? You can’t refuse a breakup, Evan,” Tommy had said.

“Sure I can. I’m going to go and let you have your ‘time apart’ but this is not finished between us, Kinard.” And then he’d left and apparently headed straight for Eddie.

“Earth to Kinard,” Eddie snarked at him. “You want to spill what’s going through that fat head of yours? Because I, for one, can’t believe you are fumbling this. And I thought Buck was the idiot in your relationship.” 

Tommy felt a growl in his chest at the insult to Evan, no matter how lovingly offered. Evan was not an idiot, he was brilliant. He was smart and funny and warm and so open and he was going to destroy him when he left. So Tommy left first. 

“Eddie, I mean this with love, but leave it the fuck alone. You can stay if you want, catch the rest of the game but I am not talking about this with you.” 

Eddie shrugged, “All right, bro. Just be prepared for your man to go full Buck on you.” He chuckled as he toasted Tommy with the dregs of his beer. He got up to grab another from the kitchen. 

“I don’t know what that means,” Tommy yelled after him. “What does that even mean?” he muttered under his breath. 

[ateez-ana]

Ateez_Official just made a post (2/11/19)

Liked by Anarosssi and 998,942 others

ateez_official_[#Anafilmgram] atiny! Have you seen the new episode of treasure film? Here I leave you some photos that I took, kisses for u love you

#에이티즈 #ANA

View all 3,145 comments

@by.yuhno_:Australia looks amazing on them! I love the photos, especially the one of Ana skydiving and the one of Seonghwa on the bridge. They look so happy! #ATEEZ #TreasureFilm

@hongana4luv Hongjoong eating is always adorable. I love how he enjoys food!

@ateezbuble: why Ana always takes the best photos of our captain

↳@analuuv:@ateezbuble In the third photo he literally said, Ana I can fly, also Yeosang looking cute in the background

@babyateez: Seonghwa looks so handsome on the bridge. It's like a living postcard!

@ateezen_z: Thanks for sharing these beautiful photos, Ana! They make us feel like we are there with you

@Mingikute: Ana looks so adorable with the little zoo animal! She is so loving.

@Yeoboomboom: Hongjoong eating is my new favorite meme!

@JoBabybears:I would love to know what Ana said to her skydiving instructor before she jumped.

@wooyeangel: Ana screaming ateez while she's about to faint and telling the managers once she lands that she knows their faces and that she's going to get revenge while she throws herself on the ground like a two-year-old girl will never stop being funny.

↳@atinyoficial__ : @wooyeangel Ana's soul seemed to leave her body before jumping #save Ana

↳@yeoani4life:@wooyeangel the fact that san, ana and seonghwa had to do risky things while yuhno had to just cook breakfast

[adhdnursegoat]

Chapter 4

Word Count: 14.4

Content Warning: none right now

Pairing: Edward Nashton X OC Romy Winslow

Setting: Pre-Arkham Origins; 2013

Jack Ryder: "Good morning, Gotham! It's 6:00 AM on January 11th, 2013, and you're watching Gotham City News. III'm Jack Ryder."

Summer Gleeson: "And I'm Summer Gleeson. Starting your Friday off right with the news you need—"

Jack Ryder: (interrupting with a smirk) "-and maybe a little news you don't. Like how I prefer my ladies how I like my liquor—intoxicating and bad for my health—in case anyone out there is wondering." (winks)

Summer Gleeson: (rolling her eyes with a laugh) "Right, because that's exactly what Gotham tuned in to hear. Don’t do it ladies, a real walking red flag over here.” (jerks thumb to her partner before shifting in her seat, becoming more serious) “Today, let’s start with Mayor Hamilton Hill's latest initiative, or as some are calling it, his latest attempt to win brownie points before reelection season."

Jack Ryder: "You’re referring to his new ‘Community Clean-Up Program,’ right? Mayor Hill has announced the allocation of $500,000 to fund neighborhood beautification efforts in lower-income areas. That includes fixing potholes, planting trees, and—wait for it—installing decorative streetlights. Because what says 'safe Gotham streets' more than better-lit crime scenes?"

Summer Gleeson: "Hill says it's about 'restoring pride in our neighborhoods.' And while it’s a nice sentiment, critics are pointing out the glaring issue: no amount of flowers or freshly painted benches is going to stop the rising crime rates. Concerns are growing over his administration’s lack of action against Gotham’s criminal underworld, with many residents saying this is just a single band-aid for several bullet wounds."

Jack Ryder: (leaning back smugly) "But hey, at least those bullet wounds will be framed by lovely begonias."

Summer Gleeson: (shaking her head) "Moving on, though, not everyone is waiting for City Hall to act. Gotham’s own Dark Knight continues his crusade against crime. Last night, Batman was reportedly seen stopping a hostage situation in Coventry."

Jack Ryder: "That’s right. The vigilante saved three employees trapped inside a late-night pharmacy after a robbery turned violent. While many are calling him a hero, as always, there are those who criticize his methods, describing them as overly brutal and, let’s be honest, a little melodramatic."

Summer Gleeson: (nodding earnestly) "Still, it’s hard to argue with the results. For some, he represents the only hope left in Gotham. Let us know what you think—hero or menace? Share your thoughts on our website at www.GCN.org/Batman."

Jack Ryder: (grinning) "I’m calling it now—‘no capes’ is going to be trending by lunchtime."

Summer Gleeson: (adopting a more serious tone) "Well, Jack, humor aside, it’s hard to ignore that the city’s problems are growing more dire. Gothamites are looking for hope wherever they can find it. Just this morning, we received a troubling report about another missing young woman. Janice Owens, 19 years old"—(a photo appears on screen of a smiling young woman with dark curls and bright eyes)—"a student at Gotham University, was reported missing after a party last weekend. Friends say she was last seen leaving the event alone, and no one has heard from her since. If you have any information about Janice, please call 201-551-HELP or visit www.gcn.org/findjanice."

Jack Ryder: (softening, but keeping his tone light to ease the tension) "And if you see someone wandering around in socks and sandals, Summer, that’s your first suspect right there."

Summer Gleeson: (biting back a smile) "Jack, this is serious."

Jack Ryder: (grinning) "I’m just saying, Gotham’s fashion crimes are almost as bad as its real ones. Almost."

Summer Gleeson: (suppressing a chuckle) "Well, let’s lighten things up before we go. In some good news, Gotham Zoo has welcomed a new addition to its penguin exhibit: a fluffy chick, hatched just yesterday. The zoo is asking for name suggestions, and the top contenders include Waddles, Snowball—

The screen abruptly cut to black as Edward Nashton’s finger pressed the TV remote power button.

The device clattered onto the desk without a glance from him, sliding to the side and forgotten as his focus remained laser-sharp on the glowing monitors surrounding him. Strings of code and complex algorithms flashed across the screens in rhythmic chaos, a language only he could interpret. His mind hummed with activity, far removed from Gotham’s morning fluff or the platitudes of its ineffectual mayor.

With a quiet scoff, Edward muttered, “‘Beautification’... Ridiculous.”

He leaned back momentarily, the chair’s worn springs creaking under him. A half-eaten piece of toast, gone cold, sat abandoned alongside a mug of coffee that had long gone stale. On the desk beside him, a cigarette smoldered, its faint, acrid scent mingling with the stagnant air of the room. A thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, occasionally dissipating when a chilly breeze drifted in through the cracked window.

This space, officially designated as the second guest room, was anything but welcoming. The walls were bare, painted in an uninspired off-white that did nothing to soften the harsh glare of the fluorescent desk lamp overhead. There was no art, no photographs, no hint of personality or warmth—just a single shelf crammed with books, binders, and puzzles, and a desk overflowing with tools, cables, and scraps of paper: organized chaos.

The hum of his computers was a soothing lullaby, the rapid flicker of code on his monitors more invigorating than any rest. He typed furiously, his fingers a blur over the keyboard. Each burst of keystrokes was punctuated by the occasional satisfying click of a compiled program or decrypted file. The light from the screens reflected in his glasses, casting faint, distorted patterns onto his pale face, taut with focus and intensity.

He hadn’t slept. He didn’t care. Sleep was an inconvenience, a weakness he rarely indulged. What others called exhaustion, he framed as clarity—his sharpest insights always seemed to arrive in these quiet, liminal hours when the city was dormant, the world still, and his thoughts could run unchecked.

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, a sharp grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Even Gotham’s most ambitious criminals couldn’t hide their tracks from him.

He had been working on the response time case for weeks now, piecing together data Loeb and the other incompetents at the precinct would never bother to analyze. Dispatch logs, call center records, GPS coordinates from patrol units—all of it fed into his custom algorithm, meticulously designed to reveal the systemic rot buried within GCPD’s operations.

And it was working.

His monitors flashed with heat maps of Gotham, clusters of data points glowing brighter in certain areas. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as a string of data scrolled across his main monitor, a new pattern emerging amidst the chaos. His eyes zeroed in on flagged areas. The response times there were staggering—calls for help going unanswered for fifteen, twenty, even thirty-two minutes—if they were answered at all.

Meanwhile, similar incidents in neighborhoods like The Diamond District, Coventry, or Burnley received near-immediate attention. The contrast was glaring, and Edward felt a rush of satisfaction as his algorithm highlighted another anomaly. He tapped a key and fished for his cigarette while a series of flagged reports loaded. He took a drag, exhaling slowly as the results appeared: assaults, missing persons, .

In The Narrows, Park Row, Old Gothem, The Bowery and The Cauldron, these cases didn’t just take longer to respond to—they often disappeared entirely, the reports either “misplaced” or buried in backlogged paperwork. Patterns emerged, each one pointing to the same damning conclusion: Gotham’s police force prioritized the protection of the wealthy while leaving its most vulnerable citizens to fend for themselves.

He tapped ash into an overfull tray, his mind racing as he followed the digital breadcrumb trail. It was intoxicating—the hunt, the thrill of unraveling secrets buried in plain sight. There was nothing else like it. Every click, every discovery, was another piece of the puzzle falling into place, another thread of corruption exposed.

But it wasn’t just the response times that interested him. It was the timing, the frequency. A subtle spike in calls around specific hours—late evenings, early mornings. Patterns that aligned too neatly to be coincidence.

Edward’s fingers paused, hovering over the keys as his mind spun, piecing together the implications. He hadn’t turned this information over to Loeb yet. Not because he couldn’t, but because he wasn’t ready to let go of the thrill of discovery. Loeb didn’t deserve the credit, anyway. No, Edward would give him the data when the time was right—when it was undeniable, unassailable, a perfect storm of facts that would either force Loeb to act or reveal his complicity.

Edward shifted in his chair, his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before he typed a name into the GCPD employee files (which no one knew he had access to):

Jack Hartley.

The query pulled at him like a loose thread, one he felt compelled to unravel. It wasn’t just about the man’s audacity—though Edward found Hartley’s overconfidence grating in the extreme—it was the way Hartley carried himself. The swagger, the smirk, the casual sense of entitlement. It irritated Edward in ways he couldn’t fully articulate, and irritation demanded answers.

The first results were standard fare: employment records, a GCPD personnel file, patrol routes, commendations for “bravery” during an apprehension in The Bowery three years ago. Edward snorted at that. Bravery? More likely brute force or sheer dumb luck.

He tapped a few keys, bypassing a surface-level firewall to access more detailed internal records. His lips curled into a faint smirk—so much for GCPD security.

Hartley’s disciplinary file was sparse but not empty. A single flagged report caught Edward’s attention:

Complaint filed by a civilian.

Allegation: Excessive use of force.

Status: Dismissed.

Edward’s fingers hovered over the keys. Dismissed? Of course, it was. Most complaints like this vanished under the weight of red tape or cronyism. Hartley wouldn’t be the first officer to benefit from a system designed to protect its own.

Still, it was a lead. Edward’s eyes narrowed as he dug deeper, cross-referencing Hartley’s name with incident reports and internal communications. Patterns began to emerge—subtle, but visible to someone who knew where to look.

Hartley’s name was tied to a disproportionate number of incidents in The Narrows, Gotham’s red-light district. Those nagging, lagging response times, assaults, questionable arrests, and more than a few vague, unexplained “interventions.” Edward’s scowl deepened as he pulled up Hartley’s patrol logs. He saw the gaps immediately—times when Hartley was unaccounted for, “off-route,” with nothing to show for it in the official records. No arrests, no reports, just blank spots in his timeline.

Edward leaned closer to the monitor, tossing his cigarette butt toward the ashtray. Where were you, Officer Hartley? What were you doing?

He dug further, following the digital breadcrumbs with the precision of a surgeon. Each file, each string of data, was another piece of the puzzle, another thread in the tapestry of Gotham’s corruption.

A flagged entry caught his eye—an arrest made by Hartley in The Narrows, just over six months ago. The details were sparse, almost deliberately so, but the key points stood out: charges filed against the arrestee were dropped within 48 hours.

That alone would have been suspicious, but it was the name that made Edward’s fingers pause over the keys. The arrestee? A known associate of Black Mask—Jeremy Ritter.

Edward’s brows furrowed as his mind processed the connection, dots aligning faster than his screen could refresh. An arrest like that should have made waves, especially given Roman Sionis’s reputation. Instead, it had vanished into the void, scrubbed clean of any official scrutiny. Hartley’s involvement, paired with the rapid dismissal of charges, suggested something far more deliberate than mere incompetence.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping another cigarette loose from the pack and lighting it. The sharp scent filled the room as he took a drag, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips while he leaned forward again, diving deeper into the data. The implications were tantalizing, a thread he couldn’t resist pulling.

Exiting the GCPD server, Edward pivoted, running a full background check on Jack Hartley. It took mere seconds for the first wave of data to populate his screen:

Education: High school diploma, minimal academic achievement.

Military Experience: Served in the army, honorable discharge with a medal of valor.

Edward snorted. A "hero," then. Of course.

He dug deeper, combing through public records and local news archives. Something caught his attention—a police report filed two years ago. Arrest for domestic assault. The victim? A girlfriend at the time.

Edward’s lips curled into a cold grin as he opened the file, scanning the sparse details. Charges dropped. No surprise there. He didn’t need to see the rest to know what likely happened: intimidation, pressure, and a system designed to protect men like Hartley.

The grin widened as Edward switched focus, pulling up more personal details:

Current address: Apartment in Coventry. 1701 33rd Ave, apt 25, Gotham, New Jersy 23537

Financial records: A trail of minor but telling inconsistencies—cash deposits that didn’t align with his salary, credit card transactions placing him in areas of Gotham he shouldn’t have been patrolling.

Edward tapped ash into the tray, flicking the butt with his thumb. His monitors flashed with the growing dossier on Hartley, the pieces of the man’s life falling into place in stark, damning detail.

Hartley wasn’t just a nuisance. He was a liability. A jarhead with a violent streak and a penchant for cutting corners when it suited him. And now, with his potential proximity to Sionis, Hartley was also a potential informant—or worse, an asset to one of Gotham’s most dangerous crime lords.

His grin sharpened, his mind racing with possibilities. This was more than just satisfying curiosity. Hartley’s connections, his history, his patterns—they were all data points, pieces of a larger puzzle.

He added the information to his growing compilation—every flagged incident, every suspicious deposit, every loose end waiting to unravel. By the time he was finished, Edward knew Hartley would never cross his path again.

“Oh, Hartley, Hartley,” he muttered to himself, the faint edge of a grin tugging at his lips. With a few taps, he powered down his personal computer.

The more he uncovered, the clearer the picture became. Hartley wasn’t just another mediocre cop puffed up by his own sense of self-importance. He was worse—a cog in Gotham’s corrupt machine. A man who used his badge as leverage, whether for power, profit, or both.

Edward stubbed out his cigarette, pushing away from the desk before closing the cracked window. Within a few minutes, he tossed his toast, brushed his teeth, spritzed on cologne to mask the smell, and grabbed his coat and scarf. He clipped his keys to his belt loop, checked his phone—no notifications—the background as generic as it had been since he’d bought it.

Another day, another mess to untangle.

And then there was Romy.

Edward exhaled sharply at the thought, slipping his cigarettes, phone, and wallet into his pocket as he stepped out into Gotham’s cold morning air. She would be waiting at the precinct, no doubt eager to piss him off. Edward shook his head, trying to shove the thought aside.

The truth was, for all her confidence and wit, she was still a student—a fledgling in a field he had mastered. And yet, something about the way she worked, the way she challenged him, gnawed at him. It got under his skin, poking at places he didn’t even know were tender.

The streets of Gotham buzzed faintly as Edward trudged toward the GCPD, the hum of traffic and distant sirens blending into a white noise that filled his mind.

He had never wanted this. To precept Romy. To precept anyone. The very idea of teaching someone felt like a cosmic joke—especially after the years he spent tormenting his own teachers.

Edward had taught himself everything he knew. Beyond the basics hammered into him in elementary school, he had quickly realized he didn’t need the people at the front of the classroom. Most of them hadn’t understood the material as well as he did.

He remembered the shift vividly. At first, he had been the quiet student, the one who raised his hand only when he was sure the answer was correct. But then, there had been the first time he had corrected a teacher—a simple arithmetic mistake during a lecture. The teacher had dismissed him, brushing it off like an irrelevant interruption. But Edward had been right.

That dismissal had ignited something in him.

It had started small: muttered quips under his breath when a teacher had fumbled through an explanation, little digs that had earned scattered laughter from classmates. But it had grown quickly. He had begun questioning everything, openly challenging authority figures in the most obnoxious way possible. His corrections hadn’t been polite—they had been biting, precise, and delivered with an air of superiority that had made it clear he didn’t just think he was smarter than them. He had known it.

Chemistry teachers who couldn’t balance equations. History teachers who had glossed over inaccuracies. Geometry teachers who hadn’t understood the proofs they were assigning. Edward had exposed them all, one by one, with the kind of cold precision that had earned him grudging respect from his peers and thinly veiled disdain from his teachers.

And the worst part? He had thrived on it.

He remembered the looks on their faces—the tight-lipped frustration, the feigned patience as they had tried to maintain control of their classrooms. He had remembered the way they had fumbled for explanations, trying to regain the upper hand, and how he had already had the answer, waiting, like a loaded weapon.

Edward Franklin Nashton hadn’t needed teachers—not when he had known everything.

But that hadn’t been enough for his father.

“Do it yourself, Edward,” the man had barked, his breath heavy with the stench of beer and cigarettes. “Don’t expect anyone to hand you anything. You want something? You earn it.”

The hypocrisy of it still churned in Edward’s gut. His father, the bloated, useless excuse for a man, who had never lifted a finger to improve his own life, had dared to demand perfection from his son.

Edward had learned early that the world wouldn’t help him. If anything, it would try to drag him down, to shove him into the same mediocrity everyone else wallowed in. So he had taught himself, rising above the noise and filth around him through sheer force of will.

And now, he was supposed to teach Romy.

Romy, with her smartass mouth and maddening persistence. Romy, who seemed to question him as much as he had questioned others, as though she had the right.

Edward’s scowl deepened as he approached the GCPD, the looming building a monument to the incompetence and corruption he had worked so hard to distance himself from.

He didn’t like her. He didn’t want to like her. And the way she approached problems, the way she wasn’t intimidated by him or his intellect—it unsettled him. There was something in her that reminded him of something—someone.

And he hated it.

Just as he planted a foot on the precinct steps, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket. He didn’t miss a beat, continuing his ascent to the top step as he pulled it out and answered.

“Nashton,” he said, his voice clipped, already bordering on exasperated.

The voice on the other end was brisk and professional—one of the precinct’s administrators. “We’ve got a situation. Vincent Carlyle. We need you on-site for a search warrant—suspect laptop, sensitive data, the works. High stakes.”

Edward listened without breaking stride, pushing through the precinct’s heavy glass doors and into the cacophony of fluorescent lights, ringing phones, and overlapping conversations. The administrator rattled off an address.

Carlyle.

The name stuck, tugging at the edges of his memory. Some kind of hedge fund manager. Edward’s lips twitched in a faint grimace. The type of man who probably thought himself untouchable, hidden behind layers of encryption and NDAs. Idiots like that always made the most satisfying targets.

He rolled his eyes, glancing at his watch as he sidestepped a cluster of uniforms loitering near the bullpen. 07:13. Traffic would be terrible.

“I’ll be there in an hour,” he replied curtly, ending the call without waiting for acknowledgment. The phone slipped back into his pocket as he continued his path through the precinct, his mind already dividing itself between Carlyle’s laptop and the growing annoyance that was Romy Winslow.

If nothing else, this would be a distraction—a reprieve from the tangled mess she was making of his carefully ordered life. His scowl deepened at the thought.

Edward shook his head, forcing his focus back to the task at hand. Carlyle. Laptop. Sensitive data. High stakes.

As he neared his office, he considered his approach. Should he leave her behind entirely, trusting she’d remain occupied? Or should he drag her along, hoping the field trip would appease her incessant pestering? Neither option seemed particularly appealing. No, he would make her stay here. Yes, there would be less to worry about and a brief reprieve from her. He could only hope Romy would actually stay quiet today, buried in whatever busywork he assigned her. But something deep in his gut told him that was wishful thinking. She didn’t have it in her.

There was a certain energy about her—a need to push, to probe, to test boundaries—he could already tell. 

Edward exhaled sharply as he reached for the door handle, steeling himself for whatever chaos the day would bring.

Sure enough, there she was—the thorn in his side, the perpetual disruption to his carefully constructed routine. Romy was seated at her desk, wired earbuds in, looking entirely too comfortable in a space that belonged to him and him alone. She was a sight that stuck out against the room like a sore thumb. Edward’s eyes lingered for half a second, cataloging the details without conscious effort.

Wednesday, lavender. Yesterday, gray and green. Today, a mix of the two. Her turtleneck was a soft lavender, tucked neatly into a gray skirt that fell just above her knees. And, of course, she was wearing those thigh-high stockings again, paired with knee-high black boots. Edward’s scowl deepened.

Did she own any pants at all?

The thought irritated him, though he couldn’t quite say why. Perhaps it was the impracticality of it. Gotham was freezing this time of year, and yet she walked around as if immune to the cold. Her hair was draped across and behind her shoulders that day, smooth and deliberate in its placement. Another detail he wished he hadn’t noticed.

Edward exhaled sharply, a sigh meant more for himself than for her, and strode into his office. He didn’t bother to announce his arrival. The click of the door, the scuff of his shoes against the floor—those were enough. As he moved past her desk, the faint trace of her perfume caught his attention. Floral, that time. Something light, subtle, but still noticeable enough to pull him from his thoughts for just a moment.

Why did she always disrupt everything? Even when she was silent, she was a distraction.

Edward spared her a brief glance, his eyes flicking toward her and then away just as quickly, as though acknowledging her any further would give her the satisfaction of knowing she had taken up space in his mind.

That day would be different. That day, she would not get under his skin.

Without a word, Edward strode into his workspace, setting his bag down on the desk with more force than necessary. The thud reverberated through the quiet room, cutting through the faint hum of electronics. He didn’t bother removing his coat or unpacking anything—he’d just have to put it all back on soon enough.

The sound of drawers opening and closing filled the space as he moved around with clipped efficiency, gathering what he needed.

It was only when he started making enough noise that Romy finally looked up. She pulled an earbud out, tilting her head to the side as if she had just noticed him. That infuriating half-smirk of hers was already in place.

“Good morning, Mr. Nashton.”

Edward didn’t respond. He simply continued rummaging, pulling out an external hard drive, a toolkit, and a few other necessities. He placed them on his desk with precise movements, methodically packing them into his bag.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning forward slightly in her chair.

“Collecting equipment,” he replied curtly, his focus unwavering.

“For…?”

He doesn't pause his movements. “Got a call for some fieldwork.”

At that, she sat up straighter. “Ooh, a field trip. Where are we going?”

Edward froze for a split second before continuing. “Fieldwork,” he snipped. “Not a field trip. And we aren’t going anywhere. I’m going. Alone.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock pout. “Why so secretive, Mr. Nashton? What kind of super-important work are you up to?”

He sighed, zipping the bag shut with deliberate force. “Investigating a laptop belonging to an idiot who thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Cool. Let me grab my stuff.”

“You are not coming,” he snapped, spinning to face her.

“Why not?” she shot back, adding a subtle pout that Edward refused to acknowledge. “This is supposed to be a learning experience, right? What better way to learn than by watching the brilliant Mr. Edward Nashton in action?”

He stared at her, his jaw tightening, the muscles working as he gritted his teeth. Was she trying to appeal to his ego? Was she trying to challenge him? Goad him into proving himself?

The thought gnawed at him, and Edward narrowed his eyes slightly, scanning Romy’s expression for any hint of mockery or insincerity. Her words seemed deliberate—too deliberate. Was this calculated? A ploy to manipulate him?

If it was—it was working.

And he hated it.

The idea of her following him, asking endless questions, disrupting his carefully ordered flow—it was maddening. Absolutely maddening. But the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

Part of him realized that maybe it was not a good idea to leave her there alone. There was no telling what she could ruin or break in his absence. He took a deep breath. Yes, no matter how much he hated the idea of babysitting her, he would much rather deal with that than the aftermath of her subsequent meddling.

Plus, she wasn’t going to back down.

She hasn’t in the three days he’s known her.

Edward exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp and clipped. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice heavy with exasperation.

“Cool.” The grin that spread across Romy’s face was infuriatingly self-assured, her confidence somehow amplifying his irritation. “Love a good field trip.”

“Work. Fieldwork. We are working. Not taking a fun little trip.”

Edward sighed sharply, the weight of his decision already pressing down on him. He slung the bag over his shoulder, heading for the door and outside without waiting to see if she’d follow. Of course, she did. The telltale click of her boots against the linoleum floor trailed after him, each step like a needle pricking at his patience. He took a brief detour to sign out a set of keys for one of the department’s unmarked vehicles.

By the time the two of them reached the precinct parking lot, Edward’s irritation had only grown. He headed toward the row of vehicles with purposeful strides, his coat flaring at his sides as he moved. He stopped by one of the sedans, pulling the key fob from his pocket. “Get in,” he said curtly, opening the passenger side door without looking at her.

“So demanding,” Romy quipped, sliding into the seat with a grin. In his periphery, he watched as she swung her legs inside, noting the black trench coat she wore, and the matching Michael Kors bag. Edward ignored the comment, snapped the door shut, and rounded the car to slip into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. The faint scent of stale coffee and vinyl filled the car.

As he started the engine, she settled in beside him. He didn’t even look at her as he muttered, “If you so much as breathe too loudly, I will throw you out of this car.”

She smirked, clearly unbothered by his sharp tone. “Noted.”

The drive began in silence. The hum of the engine filled the cabin, accompanied by the honks of traffic around them and the occasional squeak of the suspension as the car navigated Gotham’s congested streets. Edward’s eyes remained fixed on the road, but even as he focused on the task at hand, he was acutely aware of Romy sitting beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her—her expression calm, as if this were just a leisurely outing. He hated it. Hated how her presence shifted the energy in the car, how it disrupted the careful balance of his focus, his life. She was too calm, too composed, as if she were waiting for something—or worse, planning something.

This was going to be a long day.

The silence stretched on, taut and heavy, until it felt almost unbearable. And then, as if on cue, Romy sighed—a long, exaggerated exhale. Edward’s lips pulled into a flat line. He had told her not to breathe. Without a word, she reached forward, her hand hovering over the radio controls before twisting the knob and tuning the station. The soft static faded, replaced by the upbeat rhythm of a pop station.

“What what, what, what. What what, what, what—”

Edward blinked.

Then, he reached forward and cut the radio off with a sharp jab of his finger, his eyes never leaving the road. For a moment, there was quiet again. But then, as if testing him, Romy turned it back on.

“I’m gonna pop some tags—”

Edward scowled. He didn’t look at her, didn’t say a word, but his hand moved with the same deliberate precision as he shut it off again.

She waited a beat before reaching forward once more. The pop music resumed, the silly notes filling the car, mocking him.

“...walk into the club like, ‘What up, I got a big cock—’”

His hand shot out, slamming the power button harder than necessary.

She reached—

“Touch it again,” he hissed, “and I will turn this car around and drop your little ass on the precinct steps.” He cast her a brief side-eye, his lips pulled tight over his teeth.

Romy paused for a beat, her hand hovering over the radio controls. And then, with a slow, deliberate grin, she leaned back in her seat. “Alright, whatever you say, daddy,” she purred.

In response, Edward’s breath caught. It was faint, barely noticeable, but it was there—a tightening low in his abdomen that he most definitely had not asked for, nor did he welcome. His posture stiffened immediately, his spine snapping straighter against the seat.

No. Absolutely not.

For a moment, it was as though his brain stalled, caught between processing Romy’s words and the way she had said them. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, fingerless gloves squeaking. His eyes darted to her, just for a second, but it was enough to catch the amused glint in her verdant gaze and the deliberate twitch of her smirk. He snapped his attention back to the road immediately.

He cleared his throat, the sound coming out squeaky. Edward’s pulse felt heavier. “Don’t—” he started, his voice tighter than he’d like. But the words faltered, falling flat before they could fully form. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? How did you even respond to something so—so absurd, so wildly inappropriate, so Romy? “Were you dropped on your head as a child? What is wrong with you?” he finally snapped.

“Lots of things,” she replied breezily, dismissing the insult with a casual wave.

Edward glared at the road ahead, his jaw working as he bit back the string of colorful expletives bubbling in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to speak further, not without giving her the satisfaction of knowing she had gotten under his skin.

Which, of course, she had.

He inhaled through his nose and exhaled out of his mouth, adjusting and relaxing his grip on the wheel, trying to ground himself in the monotony of the snail-paced traffic ahead. He was going to get through the day. Seven more hours—seven more hours and he would be free of her until next Wednesday. Four days—four days, and everything would be back to normal.

Normal until the next Wednesday, that was...

What had he done to deserve this? What had he done to have his well-managed, solitary peace disrupted like this? What had he done to deserve this little, bratty twit sitting next to him in the passenger seat? What had he done to have someone so arrogant, so annoyingly confident charged to him? This was his curse—his personal hell, his Sisyphean task, his—

Tap.

Tap.

Tap-tap-tap-tap...tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap...

Edward’s eye twitched, the muscle beneath it spasming in time with the rhythm of the sound. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of his attention. But his periphery betrayed him, catching just enough to confirm what he already suspected.

Those fucking nails.

Romy was on her phone, thumbs flying across the screen with practiced ease, her mint-green acrylics emitting a maddeningly rhythmic symphony of taps against the glass. Edward had thought—hoped—that the car ride would grant him a reprieve from the incessant clacking, tapping, and clicking she did all day. But no. Even here, in the small confines of the vehicle, she had found a way to test his patience.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap-tap.

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap...

The rhythm escalated, a relentless barrage that crawled under his skin, settling in his nerves like a splinter he couldn’t reach. He tried to drown it out, focusing on the road, the faint hum of the heater, the dull ache in his jaw, the twitching of his eye, the warmth in his—no, no. No.

T-t-tap.

T-t-taptap.

Tap-t-tap-tap-tap-t-t-t-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-t-t-tap-tap-tap...

...

Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-t-t-t-tap-tap-ttttt-tap—

“Are those ridiculous nails really necessary?!” he snapped.

She blinked, then tilted her head slightly, as though genuinely considering the question. Then, as serious as the grave, she quipped, “Oh, they’re absolutely essential.”

“I fail to see the purpose other than to piss me off.”

At that, Romy shifted in her seat, angling herself toward him with deliberate ease. She propped her elbow against the door, resting her cheek on her fist, and paused just long enough to make him even more uncomfortable. He could feel her gaze boring into his profile.

“Then you, Mr. Nashton, have obviously not had a girl run her nails through your hair,” she chided, tone sly, “or your neck, chest... or—well—anywhere really.”

Heat flooded Edward’s face, creeping up his neck like an unstoppable tide. His scowl deepened, his gaze fixed intently on the car ahead. Move. Move. Move. His mind commanded it with such intensity he half-expected the vehicle to vaporize. Anything to escape this conversation.

His thoughts betrayed him, spiraling against his will. The images her words conjured—hands, nails, touches—were too vivid, too sharp in his imagination. Not that he had any real frame of reference, though... No, he hadn’t felt that. Not a girl’s nails, not soft fingers, or kisses, not anything…

And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. No, it was just... circumstances. Yes, that was it. Circumstances. He’d never had the time. Between school, work, and his ever-expanding projects, his life hadn’t left room for such trivialities. Relationships, intimacy—those things were distractions, irrelevant to his goals. Not that he hadn’t thought about it before. But those thoughts were fleeting, inconsequential. They didn’t matter. They shouldn’t matter.

It felt too warm in the car, the heater suddenly oppressive. That was it. The heater was to blame. But his face burned, and he knew—oh, he knew—she was watching him. 

Finally, he forced out a response, his tone sharper than intended. “That is entirely irrelevant.”

Romy’s chuckle was soft, almost purring, a sound that rippled through Edward and made his grip on the wheel falter for the briefest of moments.

“If you say so, Mr. Nashton,” she replied, and he could hear the grin in her voice, even without looking at her.

The car ahead lurched forward, and Edward seized the opportunity to accelerate, focusing intently on the road. His foot pressed harder on the gas than necessary, the sudden speed a welcome distraction from the unbearable weight of her words.

But then she spoke again.

“So—” she began, and he already heard the mischief in her tone, “is it that you’ve never dated anyone who wore them? Or...?”

His breath caught. A storm brewed in his chest—embarrassment, irritation.

Don’t answer. Just ignore it. It’s a trap.

But the silence was uncomfortable, and he could feel her gaze like a laser, dissecting him, poking at cracks he didn’t even know he had. His jaw clenched, teeth squeaking audibly. The truth sat heavy and bitter in his throat. He’d never dated anyone. Not seriously, not romantically, not in the way she was implying. The few fleeting interactions he’d had were awkward at best, disasters at worst. He’d always been better with knowledge, education, facts, logic, reasoning, puzzles than people.

And this—this conversation—was a prime example of why.

Edward inhaled sharply, his chest tight, and chose the only defense he had left.

“That’s none of your business,” he grumbled.

Romy leaned back slightly, her smirk widening, and he knew he’d just handed her exactly what she wanted—a reaction.

Edward exhaled through his nose, the sound sharp and controlled, an effort to tamp down the simmering irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He didn’t respond, didn’t dignify her words with an acknowledgment. She was fishing for a reaction, and he refused to bite.

Instead, he locked his gaze on the road ahead, scowling at the snail-paced traffic, trying to will her out of his mind. But it was too late. Her words, her teasing, her relentless prodding had made him acutely aware of something he tried very hard not to think about.

Thirty years old and still a virgin.

How pathetic.

The thought crept in, uninvited and unwelcome, like a spider skittering into the corner of his mind. He tried to squash it, to smack it aside with cold, logical reasoning. It was his choice, after all. It had always been his choice. He’d been too busy, too focused on his work, too... selective. Yes, that was it. Selective. No one had been good enough for him.

But even as he repeated the justification to himself, it felt hollow. Had it truly been his choice? Or had it simply never been an option?

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but before he could spiral further, another sound cut through his thoughts.

A shutter click.

Edward flinched. Another click. He spared Romy the briefest of glances, just enough to confirm what he already suspected.

She was taking selfies.

Sitting in his passenger seat, completely at ease, she held up her phone, adjusting the angle as she cycled through expressions: a bright, charming smile; a sultry smolder; a dramatic pout. Each click of the camera was like a needle pricking at his patience, unraveling the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.

Why was she so disruptive?

Click.

“Really?” he muttered, the word escaping before he could stop it.

Click.

She glanced at him, unbothered, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “What?”

He exhaled sharply, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

Click.

“Do you ever stop?” he asked finally, his tone clipped and weary.

“Stop what?” she replied innocently, though the glint in her eye betrayed her.

“Stop existing,” he snapped.

She laughed softly, the sound light and unbothered, and it grated on him in a way he didn’t fully understand. She took another picture.

“You’re the one who agreed to let me come along. You could have said no.” And another.

“I did tell you no!” Edward growled, his voice a little too loud. His mouth snapped shut. He took a deep breath. “You know, you are intolerable. A gnat. A pest. A menace.”

“Aw.” She gave him a mocking pout. “And here I thought you were starting to like me.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“Then you should try me lying down...”

His mind tripped over itself in a desperate attempt to process her words. He blinked once, twice, his vision tunneling as entirely unbidden images invaded his thoughts. Her lying down. Him beside her. The suggestion was so absurd, so impossible, and yet his brain conjured it with maddening clarity. His scowl deepened as though sheer willpower might banish the thoughts. He focused on the road, willing the asphalt to crack apart and swallow him whole. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. He didn’t want to be thinking about this.

Why would she say something like that?

Edward gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white under his gloves, the smooth leather creaking beneath his gloves. His mind screamed at him to shut down the train of thought before it careened into dangerous territory, but it was already too late. The images lingered, vivid and intrusive, like a puzzle piece jammed into the wrong spot—wrong, out of place, but impossible to ignore.

He cleared his throat, the sound harsh and forced. "Do you ever listen to yourself?" he muttered, voice strained. "Or do you just say the first ridiculous thing that comes to mind and hope for chaos?"

Romy spoke in an almost absentminded manner. "A little from column A, a little from column B." Her fingers trail idly over her phone screen. Another click sounded, and Edward's eye twitched.

"Enough with the photos!" he snapped, his voice rising before he could stop himself. "What could you possibly need so many pictures for?"

"For posterity, bruh.” Romy shrugged, tilting her phone to show him the screen, where a string of perfectly angled selfies displayed her smug expression. “Gotta commemorate the first time you let me tag along. It’s a historic day."

"Historic," Edward repeated flatly, his jaw tightening. "If by 'historic,' you mean the first and last time, then yes, absolutely. You have been nothing but a pest."

She chuckled softly, the sound buzzing under his skin like an itch he couldn’t scratch. "You wound me, Mr. Nashton."

"Good," he shot back, his voice sharp. "Maybe you'lllearn to shut that smartass mouth of yours."

Her laugh bubbled up again, lighter this time, almost genuine. "Oh, you love it, and you know it."

Edward didn’t respond. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, he focused on the road, the traffic, the cacophony of Gotham’s streets—anything to drown out the chaos sitting in his passenger seat.

But even in silence, Romy was a presence he couldn’t ignore. Her perfume lingered faintly in the air, floral and warm, and every now and then, he caught the faintest sound of her shifting in her seat, her nails tapping against her phone, her amused hums as she scrolled through her gallery or apps.

She was infuriating. Impossible. Distracting in ways he couldn’t fully articulate.

The light ahead turned green, and Edward seized the opportunity to accelerate again, the engine’s low rumble a temporary balm for his fraying nerves. But as the car sped forward, Romy spoke once more, her voice soft but unmistakably playful.

"You know, I think you might eventually like having me around.” 

"I would rather chew glass."

"Now that sounds like a date," she quipped without missing a beat.

Edward groaned audibly, his head thudding back against the headrest for just a moment before he forced himself to refocus. "This is going to be the longest day of my life," he muttered under his breath.

Romy heard him, of course. And when she laughed, soft and wicked, he knew—deep down—she was enjoying every second of his torment.

“You know...” Romy said, her voice dropping, “you’re kind of adorable when you’re this frustrated.”

Adorable.

No one had ever called him that before.

He didn’t want to be called that.

He didn’t want to like being called that.

And yet, there was no denying the fresh, unwelcome wave of heat creeping to the tips of his ears. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, as though it held the answers to his sudden and overwhelming discomfort. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding together.

Romy settled back into her seat, entirely too pleased with herself. He didn’t have to look to know she was smiling—that maddening, self-assured smile that made his stomach churn in a way he didn’t understand. The tension in the car was unbearable now, suffocating in its weight.

Edward didn’t know what bothered him more—her audacity, her unwavering confidence, or the way she made him feel so completely out of his depth. Romy was unlike anything he had ever subjected himself to before. Girls like her always pissed him off.

They were the ones who ruled the hallways of his childhood: the cheerleaders, the popular girls, the preps. The ones who didn’t bother hiding their disdain, who sneered at him for daring to exist in the same space—forget even approaching them. They made him feel small, invisible, undeserving of their time and attention.

Yes, that was why he didn’t like Romy. Because she was everything he despised: girly, obnoxious, vain, pretty, styl—

Pretty.

The word dug into him like a splinter under his nail. It wasn’t just that she was pretty—it was the way she knew she was pretty. It was in the effortless way she drew attention without calling for it, the way her every movement seemed calculated for maximum impact.

And it infuriated him.

The sharp, electronic sound of coins falling shattered his thoughts, yanking him back to reality.

Edward’s head jerked slightly, his eyes darting toward her before he could stop himself. Romy giggled softly, tapping quickly on her phone, her expression lit with amusement as she swiped and typed with practiced ease. 

“What now?” he grumbled.

She glanced at him briefly, her smile turning sly as she returned her focus to her phone. “Nothing.”

Edward bit the inside of his cheek, his scowl deepening as his mind raced. What was she doing? Why did she make so much noise? Was she built to piss him off?

Yes, that was it; she was specifically crafted for his torture.

The car fell into relative silence again, but it wasn’t the relief he had hoped for. Instead, the quiet buzzed with unanswered questions and the paroxysmal tapping of her nails and clicking of her selfies.

Edward focused on the road ahead, counting down the seconds until the drive ended.

The Ryker Skyrise jutted into the air like a blade, nestled among the towering spires of Founder’s Island. Its sleek steel and glass façade gleamed in the pale morning light, a monument to wealth and power in a city where both were practically synonymous with corruption.

Founder’s Island was everything Edward despised about Gotham, concentrated into one suffocating district. Unlike the raw chaos of the Narrows or the festering rot of Crime Alley, the filth here wore a suit and tie—criminals all the same. Banks and brokerage firms lined the pristine streets, their marble steps and polished brass fixtures gleaming with an almost obscene clarity. The sidewalks were scrubbed clean, the cracks in the pavement filled with fresh mortar, as though the island could somehow mask the rot lurking just beneath its surface.

It was all an illusion. The buildings might shine, but the people inside were nothing more than predators in expensive wool, preying on Gotham’s already-broken underbelly. Edward’s lip curled as the car inched forward, traffic snarling in its usual morning crawl.

He hated it. He hated all of this.

And worse than the traffic, worse than the oppressive air of Founder’s Island, was Romy.

The ride had been unrelenting. Exhausting.

Edward wouldn’t allow himself to admit it, but she had drained him. Romy, with her prickling yet well-timed chatter, her phone’s incessant notifications, her very presence. She was a little vampire, sucking him dry of his near-limitless resources of energy and patience.

That was impossible.

She was a child.

Not literally, of course. He knew Romy’s age, her background, the purpose of her being here. But in every way that mattered, she was brash and entirely too comfortable dismantling his carefully maintained composure. No wonder she had gone to juvie; even if it had only been for hacking, he had a feeling she would have wound up there one way or another.

He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight, as the car finally reached the entrance to the Ryker Skyrise’s subterranean parking deck. The sleek metal gates slid open, and he descended into the shadows of the underground lot.

The deck was silent save for the sticky sound of tires rolling over smooth concrete. It was cavernous and nearly full of gleaming vehicles that screamed of excess. Edward found a spot near the other GCPD personnel vehicles—a patrol car and a detective’s unmarked one—easing the car to a stop beside them. He cut the engine, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. It soothed his ears, offering a reprieve from the sound of Romy’s voice, her tapping nails, her phone’s incessant jingles.

Edward exhaled slowly, his hands resting on the wheel as he stared straight ahead. He didn’t look at her, didn’t want to see whatever expression she was wearing. He could already feel her gaze, her amusement, her disruption.

“You’re not going to sit there all day, are you?”

Edward didn’t even glance at her. “Stop talking.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the car door open and stepped out into the chilled, slightly stale air of the parking deck. He grabbed his bag and closed the door with a little more force than necessary. The sound of his shoes against the smooth concrete echoed faintly, a rhythmic beat that only served to highlight the maddening clack of her heeled boots as she followed. Every step grated on him.

The elevator awaited, its metal doors sliding open with a smooth sequence. Edward let Romy step in first and followed behind, the enclosed space becoming stifling. He could feel her beside him—not touching but impossibly present, her perfume faint but noticeable in the still air. He stared at the control panel as he punched the button for the 49th floor, his fingers pressing harder than necessary.

The elevator hummed to life, climbing rapidly, though not fast enough for his liking.

Romy didn’t speak, and for a blessed moment, he dared to hope the ride might pass without incident. The silence felt precarious, though, like a thread stretched taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Edward kept his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers above the doors, watching as they climbed higher and higher.

The elevator dinged as it passed each floor.

Finally, 49.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and Edward gestured for Romy to step out first. She sauntered out, her boots clicking against the polished floor, and Edward followed close behind, eventually passing her. But the two of them didn’t get more than a few steps away from the elevator before he whirled around. His finger held between them, stopping just short of her nose.

Romy blinked before her gaze slowly crossed, centering on his finger. A cheeky smirk grew on her face, spreading like a sunrise as she looked back up at him with a delicate tilt of her head. Edward’s lips pressed into a thin line, his tension faltering for a split second before he doubled down. His voice was low, measured, and brimming with barely contained frustration.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything. Don’t touch anything. Don’t breathe. You. Don’t. Exist.”

Romy’s lips pinched to one side, and she tilted her head slightly, eyes glinting with amusement. Slowly, deliberately, she raised two fingers in a mock salute.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Nashton, sir.”

Edward lingered, his finger still in the air to make his point. His gaze bored into hers, trying to intimidate, to assert control, but her smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it widened.

With a sharp huff, he spun on his heel, his coat flaring slightly with the motion as he marched ahead. He didn’t look back, his pace brisk, purposeful, his entire being focused on putting as much space between himself and Romy as possible. She fell into step behind him, her boots clicking merrily against the floor, and Edward’s jaw tightened. This day had already stretched him thin, and it had barely begun.

The sleek, clinical air of  Ryker Skyrise was stifling, the polished marble floors and minimalist decor projecting an aura of wealth and power. At the end of the long corridor sat a desk manned by a meticulously dressed secretary, her ginger hair pinned into a flawless bun, her glasses perched precisely on the bridge of her nose. She glanced up as he approached, her expression professional but faintly wary.

“Edward Nashton, GCPD Cybercrime Division,” Edward announced briskly, gesturing to his laminated badge. It glinted under the cold overhead lighting as he dangled just long enough for her to confirm it.

The secretary studied it briefly before nodding and picking up the phone. “One moment, Mr. Nashton.”

Edward stood stiffly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as a faint hum from the office filled the silence. His eyes darted around the room, cataloging the details with mechanical precision: the polished black marble floors, the modern abstract artwork lining the walls, the sleek tables adorned with spotless vases and plants arranged with mathematical symmetry.

Then his gaze caught on Romy.

She had wandered a few steps to the left, giving him her profile as she gazed out the glass corner over the city below. The skyline stretched beyond her, softened by the remnants of dawn. The bright orange of the early morning had melted into a hazy peach that hung like a veil over the buildings. Against the glass, her figure was outlined sharply, statuesque despite her shorter stature. Her hands were clasped loosely behind her back, a posture that suggested ease but carried a deliberate elegance. She tilted her chin up slightly, her gaze narrowing at something on the horizon.

His eyes lingered longer than he intended, drawn to details he hadn’t noticed before. The curve of her jaw caught the soft light, a faint shadow tracing the line of her neck. The sunlight played across her skin, creating subtle highlights that added depth to her features. In this light, she seemed almost otherworldly—sharp edges smoothed by the morning’s luminescence, every detail strikingly clear. There was a glow about her, he noted reluctantly, and he told himself it was just the sun. Of course, it was the sun.

Edward realized he was staring. Before he could force himself to look away, Romy’s eyes flicked to him in a subtle, sideways glance. Her lips twitched, curving into a small, almost knowing smile. The expression was maddeningly effortless, a quiet acknowledgment that she had caught him, yet she said nothing. Instead, she turned her face fully toward him, the soft quirk of her mouth sharpening the tension in his chest.

The light shifted as she moved, catching along the curve of her cheek, the glossy texture of her hair, and Edward felt the heat rush to the tips of his ears. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, a knot of irritation. He jerked his gaze away, his focus snapping to the nearby table adorned with flowers, their delicate petals a safe, inanimate alternative to the unsettling presence of her.

Asters. Pale pink camellias.

The burst of purple from the asters was almost too vibrant against the muted tones of the room; their intricate petals fanned out like tiny fireworks frozen in time. The soft pink camellias beside them carried an elegance, their velvety folds unfurling with quiet grace. The combination should have been meaningless… decorative fluff for the sleek, soulless space they inhabited. His jaw tightened, and he dragged his attention away, the flowers offering no solace, only an aggravating sense of mockery.

His posture stiffened as he straightened his shoulders, his body snapping back into its usual rigidity. He pushed the moment aside, burying it under layers of practicality. His mind scrambled for something to ground him, to steady the fraying edges of his focus. The task ahead. The case. The comfort of the structured, logical world of data and analysis waiting just beyond this room.

That was what mattered.

The secretary’s voice broke the silence, pulling him back. She finished her call, hung up, and stood, smoothing down her skirt with practiced precision. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to Mr. Carlyle’s office. Your team is already there.”

Edward nodded curtly, his fingers curling slightly around the strap of his bag. Without a glance in Romy’s direction, he stepped forward immediately, falling into step behind the secretary. His focus locked onto the path ahead, his mind circling the problem like a shark scenting blood in the water. He didn’t need distractions.

Not from the flowers. Not from Romy.

The walk was short, the muffled sound of voices growing louder as the three of them approached a set of heavy double doors. The secretary pushed them open, revealing a spacious office dominated by a large, sleek desk and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a sweeping view of the city.

Inside, Detective Hall, a port man, and two uniformed officers stood near the desk, their expressions varying shades of boredom. The detective, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a poorly tied tie, looked up as Romy and Edward entered. His gray eyed gaze briefly flicked over Romy before landing on Edward.

“Nashton,” the detective greeted, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He gestured toward the desk, where a sleek laptop sat closed, flanked by a neat stack of files. “Glad you’re here. We’ve got a situation.”

“I was briefed on the basics.” Edward stepped forward, setting his bag down on the desk. “Embezzlement and fraud allegations. What are we looking at?”

“Vincent Carlyle. CEO of Ryker Capital.” Detective Hall crossed his arms. “There’ve been whispers for months about shady practices—money disappearing, shell accounts, that kind of thing. We finally got enough to move forward. Carlyle’s agreed to cooperate, but he’s adamant that his devices stay on-site.”

Edward’s brow furrowed slightly as he processed this. “Where’s Carlyle?”

“In another room. Didn’t want no funny business.” The detective gestured toward the device. “So, do whatever it is you do. But we’ve got to do this by the book. If we screw this up, the whole case falls apart.”

“What I do is nothing short of amazing.” Edward doesn’t look at the short man as he sits in Carlyle’s plush brown leather riveted chair.

The detective rolled his eyes before shifting them to Romy. “And you are?” 

She opened her mouth.

“A student and no one.” Edward’s tone was clipped as he still focused on the space before him.

The detective raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he nodded toward the laptop. “The device is password-protected. Carlyle claims he’ll provide the password if needed, but I’d prefer if you can get in without him.”

Edward smirked faintly, a flicker of confidence crossing his face. “That won’t be a problem.”

Without waiting for further comment, he opened the laptop with poise much like a surgeon preparing for an operation. He motioned for Romy to follow, his focus already locked onto the task at hand. As he pulled his supplies from his bag—an external hard drive, a set of cables, and a sleek USB forensic toolkit—his movements were quick, deliberate, almost mechanical as he plugged everything in and prepped what he needed, having it all at the ready.

The officers exchanged murmurs near the door, their voices barely audible. The detective stood nearby, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on Edward’s every move.

The steady clack of the keys filled the room, a rhythmic sound that cut through the oppressive silence. He began the delicate process of creating a forensic image of the laptop’s drive, isolating its data to ensure nothing was altered in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The soft question pulled him momentarily out of his focus, his fingers pausing mid-motion.

He had told Romy not to talk. To not exist.

Still, Edward was not one to pass up an opportunity to demonstrate his genius. He glanced at her briefly, irritation flickering in his expression before his tone softened slightly. “I’m creating a forensic image of the hard drive. Think of it as a snapshot—an exact copy of all the data on this laptop. This way, we preserve the integrity of the original while being able to analyze the contents freely without compromising the evidence.” His gaze shifted back to the screen, his fingers resuming their rapid typing.

“Why—”

“Shut up.” He didn’t look at her, his attention glued to the stream of data unfolding on the screen. 

The room settled back into silence, save for the rhythmic clacking of Edward’s keys and the occasional low beep from the laptop. Edward’s world had narrowed entirely to the task before him, the outside distractions melting into a distant haze as he dove deeper into the labyrinth of data.

“Almost there,” he muttered, the words more habit than communication.

Edward was aware of Romy leaning over his shoulder but didn’t pay attention. No. Not now. On the screen, a progress bar inched forward as the forensic imaging program meticulously copied the contents of the laptop’s hard drive. It was painfully slow, every tick of the bar dragging seconds into what felt like hours. Even Edward was, at times, impatient with the already fast flow of technology—nothing was ever fast enough.

Then, the screen flickered.

“Wait,” Edward said sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. His hands froze mid-motion, his eyes narrowing. And then he saw it—the cursor moved on its own, erratic and deliberate.

“Is that—”

“Remote access,” Edward hissed, cutting her off, his tone laced with low urgency. “Someone’s trying to wipe the drive.”

The calm precision of his movements shattered as his fingers danced over the keyboard. The sharp beeping of an alert pinged, warning of imminent data loss.

“Can you stop it?” Romy asked, her voice tight with concern.

“Stupid question,” he bit, not even glancing at her. His jaw was set, his focus absolute, but the progress bar tracking the remote wipe continued its relentless climb.

Ten percent. Twenty.

His hands blurred over the keys, the machine chirping angrily in response.

Thirty. Forty.

With the external hard drive already connected, its LED light blinked faintly as Edward worked to redirect the data flow. His commands were precise, calculated, but the remote signal fought back with equal intensity.

Fifty percent. Sixty.

“Faster.”.

Seventy.

The lines of code shifted rapidly, Edward’s commands racing to intercept the malicious signal. His face was tight with concentration.

Eighty.

With a final, decisive keystroke, the screen froze. For a heartbeat, the room was utterly still, the tension hanging so heavy it felt like the air itself had thickened.

Then, the progress bar vanished.

Edward exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping just slightly as he leaned back in his chair. The faint whir of the laptop’s fan filled the silence.

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The adrenaline still thrummed in the air, but Edward’s calm, measured demeanor had already returned, as if the near-crisis had never happened.

Romy let out a breath, leaning a little closer to his shoulder. “That was close.”

“Too close,” he replied, his tone clipped as he sat forward again, already refocusing. His eyes locked back onto the screen. “But they didn’t get everything. Now let’s see what they were trying so desperately to hide.”

Edward’s hands moved with a steadier rhythm now as he began analyzing the cloned data. The cloned drive opened like a vault, spilling its contents onto the screen—directories, files, metadata, layers of encryption—all waiting to be picked apart. He muttered to himself occasionally, faint snippets of thought escaping as he worked, his concentration absolute. He sifted through hidden files with methodical precision, isolating metadata, piecing together patterns. 

At one point, he paused, his brow furrowing. “Interesting…”

Romy leaned closer. “What is it?”

“A poorly hidden directory,” he replied, his tone almost dismissive as he clicked through a series of files. “Either he thought we were idiots, or he’s trying to waste our time. Look.”

He opened a file filled with mundane-looking spreadsheets, columns of numbers that seemed utterly ordinary at first glance. But with a few keystrokes, Edward overlaid the data, lines of code intersecting and rearranging themselves on the screen. What had looked harmless seconds ago now revealed hidden markers embedded within the spreadsheets.

“These,” Edward explained, pointing to the highlighted markers, “are coded references to offshore accounts. The spreadsheets are a cover—a way to bury the transactions in plain sight.”

“Money laundering,” she murmured.

“Exactly. Sloppy work, really.” Edward smirked faintly, his fingers already back to work, the clack of the keys a steady rhythm undercutting his words. “But effective enough to fool anyone not paying attention.”

“That’s… really cool, Mr. Nashton.”

The compliment caught him off guard. His fingers faltered for the briefest fraction of a second before resuming their steady rhythm, but his eyes flicked to her, his expression hovering between skepticism and disbelief. Cool? Of course, it was cool. He knew it was cool. What he couldn’t fathom was what Romy, of all people, could possibly understand about it.

He opened his mouth, a retort already forming on his tongue, sharp and dismissive. But the words stuck in his throat the moment he registered how close she was. She was still leaned over beside him, hands braced lightly against her thighs, her posture casual and unbothered. From this angle, her proximity felt intrusive, overwhelming. Far too close for his liking.

And from this angle, he could see everything.

The soft sweep of makeup, precise and deliberate, catching the light just enough to highlight the healthy flush of her cheeks. Her cheeks were dusted with freckles, giving her an extra youthful appearance. The lavender of her turtleneck framed her face, making her mossy eyes—always easy and observant—seem brighter, deeper. 

His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Edward cleared his throat, the sound a little forced, and sat up straighter in his chair. He retreated to his sanctuary: brusque words and deflective logic. “Of course it is. I’m doing it,” he said, his tone sharp and cutting. His fingers resumed their rapid pace over the keyboard, the clacking loud against the quiet hum of the ambiance. “It’s basic pattern recognition,” he continued, his voice clipped. “Anyone with a decent grasp of logic could have figured it out.”

He didn’t dare look at her again, his focus pinned to the screen like his life depended on it. But the heat crawling up the back of his neck told him all he needed to know.

“I definitely wouldn’t have even known where to begin,” Romy admitted, her tone light but tinged with genuine admiration. “You really are brilliant.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean much, because you’re an idiot,” Edward said flatly, his tone clipped and biting. His narrowed gaze locked onto the screen, refusing to drift toward her. “And, of course I’m brilliant. You’ve been told that.”

“Forgive me if I needed to see you walk the talk,” Romy replied smoothly, her grin evident in the teasing lilt of her voice. There was no edge to her words, no malice—just that persistent confidence that grated on him. “But, I understand now… I see you, Mr. Nashton… Good-looking and actually smart—not bad.”

His fingers paused mid-keystroke. Against his better judgment, his gaze shifted to hers again. Her eyes met his, and the faint grin tugging at the corners of her lips only unsettled him further. His mouth opened slightly, the barest movement, as though searching for a retort, but no words came out. Romy cocked a brow, giving him an expectant look.

What did he say to that? Thank you?

The idea alone felt ridiculous, absurd. Thanking her would imply that he appreciated her words—he didn’t. Or at least, he shouldn’t. But the praise…

He shifted in his seat, his hands flexing atop the keyboard. He told himself that her comment was meaningless, empty flattery, designed to distract or unnerve him. And yet… there was something about the way she said it. Casual. Effortless. Honest, even. It scratched an itch inside him. 

Just as he found his words, the sound of the door opening cut through the thought. Their heads snap towards the sound as a tall, young man in a pinstripe suit strode in, his presence sharp and commanding, flanked by a shorter man in a tailored gray suit, his briefcase dangling like a weapon of choice.

“Mr. Nashton, I presume,” the shorter man began, his voice smooth but edged with steel. “I trust you proceeded within the boundaries of the law. My client,” he gestured to the taller man,  “has been cooperative thus far, and I’d hate to see that trust compromised by overreach or… questionable methods.”

“Everything we’ve done is by the book,” Edward replied, his tone sharp but calm. He smirked and resumed his work. “Your client’s cooperation—begrudging though it may be—is noted.”

The taller man’s, Carlyle’s, jaw tightened, impatience flashing across his face. “How much longer is this going to take? I didn’t agree to an expedition.”

Edward paused, his gaze lifting to meet Carlyle’s. His expression was flat, unimpressed. “Mr. Carlyle, it’s a forensic analysis.” He gestured to the screen. “And your laptop? It’s proving quite... enlightening.”

“If you’re so confident in your findings, why not share them with us? We have a right to know what you’re accusing my client of.” The lawyer stepped forward, his hand twitching as if to grab the laptop himself.

Amused, Edward’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he swiftly tilted the laptop away, angling the screen so it was just out of the lawyer’s line of sight. “Chain of custody,” he said coldly, enunciating each word with precision. “If you want to tamper with evidence, feel free. It’ll save us the trouble of proving intent in court.”

“You’ve yet to establish anything substantial.” The lawyer bristled, his composure slipping just slightly. “Any so-called evidence gathered here could be circumstantial, at best.”

“Circumstantial?” Edward gestured toward the device. “These encrypted markers hidden in your client’s spreadsheets link directly to offshore accounts. Shell companies. Consistent patterns of money moving in and out, all flagged under high-risk AML regulations. Circumstantial, maybe, but damning all the same.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Carlyle’s face darkened, his impatience shifting into something closer to anger. “Those are routine transfers—completely legitimate.”

“Routine transfers don’t require this level of obfuscation. Nor do they pass through networks tied to organizations flagged by the International Financial Action Task Force.” Edward raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “But if you insist, I’m sure a forensic accountant will have a field day verifying your claims.”

The suspect stiffened. “You’re making assumptions—dangerous ones.” He set his jaw, nostrils flaring as he stared Edward down. “I have the resources to bury this, you know.” His lawyer shot him an incredulous look, clearly telling his client to shut up.

Edward’s expression hardened, the smirk disappearing. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lethal calm. “And I have the evidence to make it stick. You can delay this, stall it, drag it through every court in Gotham—but every move you make will only make you look more guilty.” He narrowed his eyes, pinning Carlyle to the spot. “So, by all means, Mr. Carlyle, proceed.”

Carlyle opened his mouth again, frustration evident, but his lawyer cut him off, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Enough.”

The lawyer’s glare shifted to Edward, his jaw tightening. “Do what you have to do.” He straightened his jacket, his posture rigid as he threw a pointed look at Edward, the detective, and then Romy. “We’ll be seeing you in court.”

With that, the lawyer gripped Carlyle’s arm, steering him toward the door. Carlyle hesitated for a moment, his face a mix of indignation and anger, but he followed, the door clicking shut behind them.

The tension lingered in their absence, the room tense with residual hostility.

Detective Hall, who had been standing silently by the desk, shifted and crossed his arms. His gaze moved between Edward and the laptop. “Well, that went about as well as expected,” he said dryly. “What a dumbass. Can’t even keep his mouth shut.”

“They’re like clockwork.” Edward didn’t look up, his fingers moving to save and secure the data he had gathered. “Predictable, dull. Trying to remote into the desktop was their most creative move, and even that failed spectacularly.”

Hall snorted faintly, his gaze still fixed on the laptop screen. “What exactly are we looking at here, Nashton?”

Edward glanced at Hall, his expression neutral, before adjusting his glasses with a precise push up the bridge of his nose. His fingers hovered briefly over the keyboard, then resumed their rapid rhythm. Without looking up, he spoke, his tone measured and deliberate.

“Detective, humor me for a moment. What is something that grows the more you hide it but can collapse in an instant?”

Hall’s brow furrowed, his annoyance evident in the bent lines of his brow. “I don’t have time for this, Nashton.”

“It’s relevant.” Edward allowed himself the faintest smirk, his gaze fixed on the stream of data crawling across the screen. “Trust me.”

The detective groaned, rolling his eyes before looking to the side, very obviously trying to ponder the question. “Aghhh…” He made several unintelligible grumbles as he grasped for the answer. It only made Edward's smirk grow.

What a moron. Couldn't even answer if his life depended on—

“A lie.”

The words, said in a higher pitch than Hall's, stuttered the rhythm of Edward’s typing and his thoughts. His head snapped toward Romy. Her smirk was maddening, a sharp curve of confidence on her lips. She raised her hand in a mockingly cheerful wave, her green eyes glinting with mischief.

“Correct,” Edward hissed, tone terse. “Though I was hoping the good detective might work it out, girl.”

“Seemed obvious.” Romy shrugged, her smirk widening as though she were utterly immune to his irritation. 

He stared at her for a long moment. Edward’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing as well, then he turned back to the screen. She had answered correctly. Again. The second time she had done this. It wasn’t just the answer—it was the ease with which she offered it, as though it had taken no effort at all. Worse still, it was that damn smirk. A smirk that said, I’m not impressed by you, Edward Nashton.

The thought coiled in his mind, a small, simmering ember of frustration. He did not tolerate being underestimated—or outshone. She was quick, yes, but her eagerness to outpace him grated on his nerves. Was she trying to impress him? To undermine him? Either possibility was equally infuriating.

And yet, he couldn’t deny the way her quick wit stirred something deeper. Annoyance, yes—but also an unbidden flicker of... respect? No. He crushed the thought as soon as it formed. She was a student, a fledgling who still stumbled through basic coding syntax. Whatever spark she displayed now was meaningless, a fluke. 

“Alright, fine,” Hall interrupted, his groan breaking Edward’s reverie. He gestured impatiently to the laptop. “What’s the point, Nashton? How does that relate to Carlyle?”

Edward’s irritation evaporated, replaced by the sharp edge of satisfaction. His smirk widened as he brought up a series of transactions on the screen, the glow of the monitor reflecting in his glasses.

“Carlyle’s entire operation is built on lies,” Edward began, gesturing to the laptop. “He’s using shell companies—fake businesses that don’t actually provide goods or services—to create a paper trail of invoices and transactions. On the surface, it looks like legitimate income.”

He tapped a key, overlaying a web of connections onto a digital map. Red and green lines crisscrossed the screen, forming a tangled mess of offshore accounts and suspicious transactions.

“But when you dig deeper, you find inconsistencies. Money flows between accounts in different countries, moves through currencies with no clear purpose, and always ends up back in his hedge fund. It’s the textbook definition of layering.”

Hall squinted at the screen, leaning in. “So he’s cycling the money through fake businesses?”

“Exactly,” Edward replied, his voice sharp with satisfaction. “By the time it reappears in his hedge fund, it looks clean—legitimate profits from supposed consulting services or international trade. It’s integration, the final step in laundering. Simple. And completely illegal.”

Romy leaned closer, peering at the screen. “And he kept records of all this?”

“Well, yes, that brings me to the nail in his coffin.” Edward allowed himself a low chuckle, though his eyes remained on the data. “Carlyle made one fatal mistake. He kept detailed logs—encrypted, of course—of every fake invoice, every fabricated transaction. Sloppy for a man who thought himself untouchable.”

“So, this enough to bury him?” Hall asked, his tone grim.

Edward’s fingers clicked over the keyboard, pulling up the final piece of incriminating evidence. “Absolutely suffocate him,” he said, his voice steady, but his smirk faintly triumphant.

“Good.” The detective nodded, stepping back and crossing his arms again. “Compile all of this into a report. Detailed but tight—we’ll need to send this up the chain. This isn’t staying local for long.”

Edward raised an eyebrow, still working. “FBI?”

“Most likely.” Hall nodded. “Something this big? It’s going to get their attention. And when it does, we’d better have every ‘i’ dotted and ‘t’ crossed. I want it by tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll have it by tonight,” Edward bit and closed the laptop with a snap. Then, with efficient movements, he packed up his equipment in the reverse order of when he laid it out, before pulling his bag over his shoulder. Not sparing Romy a glance, he finally spoke to her, his tone brusque but lacking its usual disdain. “Let’s go.”

He strode to the door with purpose, his long steps echoing faintly against the sleek floors. Romy followed without hesitation, her heels clacking in a steady rhythm as she fell into step behind him.

The sound, once a source of irritation—a relentless distraction he couldn’t tune out—now seemed to blend seamlessly with the cadence of the moment. He noticed it but didn’t bristle. There was no tension in his shoulders, no frustrated scowl tugging at his lips. They rested instead in a neutral line, his expression unreadable.

As the two of them moved through the corridor, the world outside the task at hand seemed to fall away. Edward didn’t analyze the change, didn’t question why the sharp, deliberate clicks of her boots no longer grated on his nerves. It was a shift he chose to ignore. Instead, he simply walked, the faint echo of her footsteps trailing him until they both reached the elevator.

“Is this something you do often?”  He could hear the smirk in her voice without turning to look. His hand hovered over the elevator call button for a beat before pressing it.

“Do what?” Edward asked, his bespeckled gaze fixed on the display panel as the numbers above the elevator doors ticked steadily upward, red digits against a black background.

“Oh, nothing… just absolutely dominate people like the daddy you are?”

His shoulders stiffened instantly, the faintest twitch tugging at the corner of his eye. For a moment, the space between them filled with nothing but the low hum of the building and the faint mechanical whir of the elevator ascending.

Edward glanced at his watch—10:01 AM—and back to the car position indicator. The day already felt endless. And now, he had the rest of it to spend in her godforsaken presence. “Please refrain from projecting your disgusting Oedipal complex onto me, you silly little girl.”

Romy tsks. “You see, when you say things like that—‘princess,’ ‘silly little girl’—you’re not helping your case.”

The elevator dinged, the sound sharp and precise. The doors glided open with a faint hiss, and Edward reluctantly gestured for Romy to step in first. “I should leave your ass here to walk back to the precinct,” he muttered.

“You talk about my ass a lot.” She brushed past him with deliberate confidence, chin held high, smugness radiating from the sharpness of her stride. 

Edward’s eyes flicked to her for half a second—longer than he intended—his gaze catching on the sharp turn of her heel and the deliberate clasp of her hands behind her back. There was something in the motion—practiced, poised, irritatingly graceful—that held his attention before he wrenched it away. His neck felt hot, an unwelcome warmth crawling along his skin, seeping into his collar. He pointedly ignored it, stepping into the elevator after Romy, his expression carefully composed into a mask of indifference. 

Without a word, he punched the button for the basement garage.

“Sooo…”

He rolled his eyes and exhaled, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. His head tilted slightly, his brows knitting in a way that spoke of his disdain before he even looked at her.

Romy leaned casually, her shoulders against the elevator wall, that easy, half-lidded gaze fixed on him—a look she had mastered, one he found infuriating in its effortlessness.

“...are you this dominant in the bedroom too?”

The doors slid shut with a soft hiss, cutting off the sound of Edward’s sharp inhale.

Later that evening, Edward lit a cigarette, the flick of his lighter sharp and deliberate in the stillness of Gotham’s biting cold. The flame flared briefly, casting a fleeting glow against the shadows, before surrendering to the wind. Smoke curled upward in ghostly tendrils, dissipating into the night like his futile attempts to purge her from his mind.

The rhythmic tap of his footsteps against the cracked pavement was a steady counterpoint to the chaotic loop of his thoughts. He pulled his scarf tighter against the unforgiving chill, his strides sharp, purposeful, as though walking faster might leave her behind. 

It didn’t work.

He didn’t like how easily Romy had burrowed under his skin, how her presence lingered like the acrid burn of cigarette smoke in his lungs. She was a nuisance—a fleeting, irrelevant distraction in his otherwise meticulously ordered existence. And yet, her voice, her glances, her noisy nails, even the maddening percussion of her heels clicking against the floor, reverberated in his mind with infuriating clarity.

Her existence in his world was contentious, like a grain of sand caught in the smooth workings of a finely tuned machine. She was disruptive, inappropriate, too bold for her own good—and worst of all, she was competent. Annoyingly so. Just smart enough to demand his begrudging tolerance.

“Quiet, submissive, obedient, my ass…” he muttered, the words spilling out like a curse to the night. His breath fogged in the frigid air, an outward manifestation of the exasperation knotting tighter in his chest.

He shivered again, this time telling himself it was the cold, though he knew better. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, the worn leather biting into his fingers as he pulled it closer. The weight of it pressed into his shoulder—a grounding sensation, a reminder of where his focus should have been. The work. The work was all that mattered. It was the singular thing that gave shape to his otherwise chaotic existence, the only arena where he felt truly in control.

But tonight, there was no peace to be found in that thought, no comfort in the familiar rhythm of his logic. Instead, irritation lingered beneath his skin like a low-grade fever. Not the sharp, crackling irritation born from the incompetence of Gotham’s criminal elite or the blundering idiocy of his colleagues at the precinct. No, this was different—softer, quieter, and infinitely more insidious.

It gnawed at the edges of his mind, this odd, unfamiliar discomfort. It wasn’t rage. It wasn’t even the sharp sting of humiliation he felt when someone dared to challenge him in his arena. It was something else entirely, a dull, unsettling calm that he couldn’t quite name. Like the strange stillness that follows a storm, when the air is heavy with the smell of rain and the earth feels too quiet.

He hated it. He hated the way it lingered, like settling dust that refused to be brushed away. She was to blame for this—for intruding on his carefully structured reality with her quips, her smirks, her intolerable self-assuredness.

Edward's jaw tightened as he thought of her again, her voice and face echoing in his mind. The ease with which she had answered his riddle, the glint of mischief in her emerald eyes as she waved at him, her smirk daring him to respond. She was a disruption, a wrench thrown into the precise gears of his life. And yet, despite his best efforts, she had lodged herself firmly in his thoughts.

He shook his head, as if the motion could dislodge her from his mind, and quickened his pace. His shoes struck sharply against the pavement, their rhythm purposeful, almost aggressive, as if he could outwalk the unease coiling in his chest. He reminded himself that he was in control. He reminded himself that she was nothing more than a temporary nuisance, an irritant he would endure until her presence in his life—this semester—was over.

Four days. He had four blissful days to himself before he had to deal with her again. Four days of routine, of normalcy, of silence unmarred by her incessant tomfoolery. The thought brought a flicker of relief, but it was short-lived, swallowed quickly by the lingering discomfort she left behind.

This season, this semester, couldn’t end soon enough…

3 months and 15 days

15 weeks and 1 day

105 days

2,520 hours

151,200 minutes

9,072,000 seconds

9,072,900,000 milliseconds

9,072,900,000,000,000 nanoseconds

1.683×1048 Planck seconds

Edward lit a second cigarette before he even realized it.

[anthropwashere]

Hey cousin, you didn't have any flavor of 'do not reblog' on this, so here I am months later itching to discuss entirely different vibes than what I can only assume you were feeling/dealing with when you posted this. You got me thinking, is the thing, so here I am. Sorry.

Read more because this will absolutely turn into a ramble (I was right)

Dad left when I was 7 years old. Specifically they left the day I was going to start first grade, and they stole the one car my parents had to do so. Personally my memory is vague on all things, but I know the many adults in my life at that time agree that there were 2-3 weeks of absenteeism before Dad turned up again. I know a much older cousin took over leading my soccer team during this time (thanks, Cousin Mike). I never saw dear old Dad at this point, but only heard much later afterward that my aunt (op cousin's late mom) and my uncle (a non-bio guy married to another bio-late aunt) convinced my mom to kick Dad out of our lives permanently. Considering the first 6-ish years of my life, per various vague anecdotes I was too young to have any properly solid memories of, nixing Dad was a VAST improvement on our livelihood.

I spent the next 7 years solely hearing Mom's Side of Things. Now, if there's anybody happening to read this far, you're probably also familiar with my #toxic relationships tag, and by extension my many, many Mommy Issues. The Short Version is: I don't trust Mom on much at all. But considering how little Dad has shared of their life/family since leaving, I kind of have to combination believe Mom's stories/assume the worst? Dad had, per what I understand, a deeply fucked up life. Lots of drugs and alcohol and various other complications that Child Me simply would not have have any context for, nevermind the Previous Relationship that resulted in multiple? half-siblings I will never meet? Mom shared little to none of it with me. That was, I think, one of her few good decisions, tbh.

Dad came back down to SoCal for a visit the one and only time after they left for Christmas... another memory snag. I swear I was 14 the last time I saw them, so it would have been December '15, but that date simply doesn't feel right? I don't know. What I do know is that they were drugged out of their mind on anti-psychotics, and even still every single conversation I had with them was like getting slapped in the face with a brick because oh? My God? Dad was ME. Dad was 100% ME. The tone of voice, style of jokes, taste in music and art, how we stood, how we laughed, how we shrugged, how we avoided eye contact, the curly brown hair, the shitty crooked teeth, EVERYTHING. It was insane. It was terrifying. It was liberating. Everything I struggled/resisted about with Mom was explained/confirmed by Dad in that, what, 2 week visit? It was so much. It wasn't nearly enough. Like, body type to a T is all Mom, but the details of me are all 100% a person I barely know anything about.

I have such strong scene-memories of listening to Tori Amos' Boys For Pele album with Dad in the shitty one-bedroom apartment I grew up in, and just. RESONATING. Oh. This is me. This is us. This is US. We are quiet and HURTING. We are wry and SARCASTIC. We are shy and FLINCHING. We love poetry and geology. My clearest memory of Dad is a photograph taken of us when I was MAYBE 2 years old? I know it was taken in a zoo by Mom. What animals we were looking at I have no idea, but the photo was of the back of our heads. Dark brown hair, short, absurdly curly. Mine was a few shades lighter then, but these days it's as dark as his was.

(My second clearest memory of Dad is shortly before he abandoned us, when I woke him up to tell him I was getting picked up by one of my aunts so my parents would know where I was, and him stumbling out of bed to bellow hate and resentment at me, a child.)

I haven't seen Dad since I was 14. I'm 33 now. I'm their only emergency POC because everyone living anywhere near them has abandoned them. I get a few phone calls a year from various VA centers that Dad tried to kill themselves again. This was more common in earlier years. This has been a thing since Dad left in, Idk, probably 1998? Suicidal tendencies don't hit me nearly as hard as they might... more normal folk, I suppose? Dad's done many attempts all my life, like to the point it was almost a joke ("Oh, Dad tried to kill himself again! Haha!") but Mom liked to threaten me with killing herself just to keep me in line as a Good Daughter.

(Like I said, the Mommy Issues are Real.)

These days it's more likely Dad quit their medications and was found wandering and confused. The last time they were apparently completely naked? Which is new as far as I know. I'm not in a position, mentally, physically or geographically, to take care of someone in their situation. I keep stressing that to the Seattle VA medical care when they call me, and also stress that Dad needs help. But Dad keeps rejecting the help, and the VA keeps accepting that they're of sound enough mind (while medicated) to make that decision.

I don't know. Every time I get a phone call from Washington state I assume it's going to be a "Your father is dead, now arrange their funeral," kind of phone call. So far I've been lucky. I really need to start planning more aggressively for both of my parents' funerals, since they're both pushing 70. I kind of hate being a. well. TECHNICALLY an only child. Because it's all on me. But I could also dig through the haphazard unfinished adoption papers Mom kept for Dad's previous kid(s??) that I have stashed in a closet. I could be like, "Hey, I'm the half-sister you probably don't know about. Dad was an absolute disaster I promise you want nothing to do with. Do you want to come to the funeral?"

God. I wish I had less complicated parents.

do you ever hear yourself laugh and hear them in the echo? do their eyes watch you from your bathroom mirror? is their scent still there, mixed in with your own? if you reach down deep enough, would you find their heart nestled in along your own, side by side in shattered perpetuity?

[nanostudies]

27 April 2021

ZOO Liberec announced they euthanized the elephant Rání due to health problems connected to her old age. She was 58 years old. You will be missed 🤍

The man in front in the photo is my grandfather who I never got chance to meet but I inherited his love for animals 🤍

[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe: End of an Era: Outline & Review

I wrote this review in October but never got around to posting it here

Steven Universe: End of an Era is far more than an art book–it’s also a collection of behind-the-scenes material, stories about the experience of working on the show, planning documents and associated background info, and both older versions of developed concepts AND concepts that never made it into the show. It's a huge fusion of all those elements, and it's definitely an experience!

Some low-quality images are included with my review just to give you an idea of what’s there--it’s not a good substitute for getting your own copy, but here’s a tour!

Like the previous concept art book, Art and Origins, I'll be giving you a description of the structure and overview, while also collecting notable information for fans. Obviously just about everything is "notable" once again, but I'll aim for unique insight or perspective on the main source material, keeping the screaming about everything new to a minimum so you can also enjoy something for yourself if you pick it up. My low-quality photos should prevent people from feeling like I'm reproducing the book in any capacity. Please grab one while you can and have your own experience!

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

OVERVIEW

The book is titled "End of an Era" for a couple reasons--obviously because it is released after the show has wrapped, but also because Gem history recently ended its "Era 2" and began Era 3--an age of prosperity and peace. The author--the person in charge of adapting all of this information into this slick, readable package--is Chris McDonnell, whose work was previously applied on the Art and Origins book.

The foreword is by N.K. Jemisin, a well-known science fiction author who's a huge fan of the show (and wrote a really excellent series that also has a weird geological connection, by the way).

And the cover, like its predecessor, is shiny and decorated with a beach scene featuring minimalistic characters--this time it's the Gems at night in front of the Temple, and on the back cover is a big pink leg ship in a cross-legged pose.

The interior covers are decorated with tons of amazing sketches of Steven and Connie on the front, and a bunch of Gem sketches on the back. Every interior page that most would leave blank is highlighted with some kind of sketch art or character exercise--it's so much to look at, so much to absorb.

The book is dedicated "For Eddie."

Its organization is different from the previous book in that it shares applicable work in chunks associated with groups of episodes rather than pertaining to different aspects of building the show.

FOREWORD

N.K. Jemisin gives us such a great introduction to the book--apparently understanding very well that the audience of this book is full of animation enthusiasts and adult fans more than it is full of kids, and explaining that bewildering journey some adults had from blowing this show off as a silly kid thing to falling in love with it hard and fast.

The important thing, Jemisin says, is being able to trust a storyteller with your heart. And it was clear to her that Rebecca Sugar knew what she was talking about and was saying important things about identity and the radical power that comes with accepting it and demanding respect.

Important also is how we handle heroes and who gets to be one in fantasy. That's part of the reason Steven Universe speaks to so many--because we see ourselves here, and know stories can be about us. Acknowledging the power we all have to MAKE THINGS BETTER with what we fight for is so important--especially if we're going to speaking to the next generation about it.

Highlighting Rose Quartz as a "born leader" who failed and Steven as a relatable scamp who did what she couldn't, Jemisin asserts that we can save the world.

1. END OF AN ERA

We start with an appeal to the audience to think about identity and the formative parts of our childhood--and how different it is if who you are and who you become is restricted, mocked, erased, or Not Allowed. Most people, if not ALL people, can relate to this, but for those of us with a special relationship with Steven Universe because of queer identity, this hits hard.

But it doesn't have to be anything grand to be something we respect--this show's authenticity comes largely from how personal everything is, drawn from real-life experiences and incidental truths from each artist's perspective, leaning hard on childhood and formative experiences.

Rebecca Sugar offers some interview bits to discuss writing philosophy and why "writing female characters" was difficult for a nonbinary person who'd been socialized as a girl and a woman. Rebecca has spoken before about how frustrating it is that marketing for cartoons was SO gendered when she was growing up (and to some extent still is).

The Gems in the story are all "she/her," but on their planet they're defined by their work, not by emotion or relationships (unlike women in our society), so having them be socialized opposite to how she was and be able to claim those emotions through choice and NOT as just an expectation "as women" was revolutionary. Rebecca wants her show to tell all marginalized people that they don't deserve to be in the margins.

Weighing in on other aspects of the show were Ian Jones-Quartey, Joe Johnston, and Miki Brewster. Ian describes feeling like at first doing SU was a thrill ride that meant they'd finally get to do all the cool stuff, but it quickly became a responsibility that he took very seriously--the need to tell a good story now that he'd been given a megaphone.

Promotional art, planning documents, character sketches, and concept art from the lighthearted to the stone serious is included, along with some very cool (sort of famous) timeline charts that track major characters' developments. It's emphasized by Rebecca that the developmental materials ARE NOT CANON (and especially are not MORE canon) compared the final show.

There are concept sketches alongside final art for Aquamarine and Topaz in "Wanted" (with Topaz labeled "Imperial Topaz"), the Zircons in "The Trial," Blue and Yellow Diamond, and the Off Colors (including Pink Lars).

And there's also a spread of "the two sides of Steven's life: Gem Magic and Rock N Roll" featuring Sadie Killer and the Suspects (referred to as "Buck's band")--as well as a cool "Crew Cameos" key and some concepts for short-haired Connie.

And then there's some more "finished" art with stills alongside concepts, including some background art, revision, and really cool "fairytale" art from some of the shadowplay storytelling bits. We get "Lars of the Stars," "Jungle Moon," and "Can't Go Back."

2. THE BEGINNING OF THE END: A SINGLE PALE ROSE

In discussing the huge reveals and Gem mysteries in the show, the pacing is examined, and emphasis is put on the intended "slow burn." One of the most difficult things in the show was to strategize so that every piece that was needed to support another piece in the future was placed properly to seed what it was supposed to.

Some of the ideas they developed were more of a group effort and were fit together collaboratively (like Amethyst's being younger than the other Gems and Jasper being from Earth), while others were intended from the beginning based on Rebecca's vision (the fundamental idea of Pink Diamond's true identity, for instance, as well as Obsidian's design and sword and our Pearl not being Pink's first).

The writing process gets a great deep dive here, including fun tidbits like how the orb in the moon base was inserted by Joe Johnston and they literally had no idea what it was for when they wrote the episode. They repurposed it when they figured out what they needed.

Rebecca credits her detailed timelines for helping keep the order straight, and discusses how other artists are sometimes flabbergasted that a storyboard-driven show can have this much detail and continuity and yet not get wrecked by the free non-scripted boarding process. But Rebecca and the Crew valued that approach and loved the way fresh eyes would handle an idea, making it come back alive, entertaining, vivid.

Several Crew members weigh in on the writing process. Lauren Hecht refers to making lots of incorrect guesses despite being on the inside. Joe Johnston recalled getting briefed on his first day and getting so excited to start working on this massive project.

Miki Brewster remembered being told Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond and being shocked--and also confused about why Ruby and Sapphire would need to be married if they're already basically married. Drew Green talks about being brought in late and getting to watch unaired episodes and a rough of the movie while eating cereal.

Ian Jones-Quartey complains about Pink Diamond's real jester-like form being leaked to the internet through a Hot Topic shirt. Rebecca piggybacks on that and says it was upsetting that the wedding was leaked because of toy fair keychains featuring Ruby and Sapphire in wedding attire. They'd always be worried about leaks, and sometimes Rebecca struggled not to talk about the reality of Pink Diamond before the reveal because she knew it would make so much more sense once the truth was out. And everything associated with Rose makes more sense once you know she's Pink--especially what happened with Bismuth, considering what we know about how Pink Diamond has a habit of treating anyone who no longer serves her interests.

When it comes to visual cues, Rebecca also talks about intentional designs to create a feeling of unity between concepts, like the flower shapes on Pink Diamond's palanquin lining up with the poofs of Steven's hair and the star imagery of the series. Steven Sugar and Mary Nash discuss how the Human Zoo incorporated this imagery, trying to look like Homeworld with a Pink Diamond touch.

Steven Sugar, as a game nerd, liked to throw in video game references from old and modern stuff to feel like he's inserting what he's enjoying and who he is from moment to moment, while Mary Nash, who related to Sadie as a basement-dwelling young person with cult interests, liked to include stuff from MST3K and cult movies. Pearl's hand gestures get a spotlight too--her reflex to cover her mouth when Pink Diamond was being discussed was analyzed here.

A "Top Secret Visual Timeline" from 2016 is included which tells us some Diamond history. It has an earlier version of Pink Pearl's fate and does not include Spinel since the movie hadn't been greenlit. The timeline includes the birth of the Diamonds, the emergence and major story beats for each major character, and some philosophy of the driving force behind each.

We're told that Pink Diamond straightened up, behavior-wise, after she lost her first Pearl, and that Yellow and Blue wanted to give her a planet but White only agreed to it to prove she would fail at managing a colony. Pearl, meanwhile, is so confused to have a Diamond who keeps asking her what she thinks when she doesn't believe she should have opinions.

And when Pink moonlighted as Rose to start conflict, she found herself leading an army to fight Pink's troops--then Yellow's, and eventually Blue's too. Lapis is said to be waiting for the conflict to end on Earth so she can terraform, but she gets trapped instead.

Pearl's love story with Rose is described as "an endless honeymoon" where she's free to love her, while Rose's is more like "I'm now the head of the family and I'm going to give everyone what they never had, so everyone is super special!"

Jasper is described as "adopted" into Yellow's army as the only successful Beta Quartz. And White Diamond knew that Pink Diamond was not dead--she thought she was just running away from home like a brat and would eventually be back.

3. THE HEART OF THE CRYSTAL GEMS

Now we discuss Rose Quartz--the original Pink Diamond. How she was selfish and selfless, never enough and always too much, and how Greg was her first partner who "challenged her" to be an equal. Rebecca describes Rose as being delighted by the idea that both she and Greg reinvented themselves, but when that leads her to want to share her past, Greg isn't interested--he only wants to know who she is now, and doesn't consider the old her to be her.

Rebecca likes Carl Jung's concept of "enantiodromia," which is the idea that extremes lead to their extreme opposite. This is demonstrated in all of the Diamonds. This narrative is interspersed with drawings of Greg and Rose being cute.

But another "heart" of the Crystal Gems is its relationships--particularly, Garnet, the fairy tale romance embodied. More psychological theories are discussed with regard to differentiation in a relationship making the relationship stronger, and how they made sure that happened for Garnet during the appropriate arc. Rebecca has struggled with the idea that she, like Ruby, went straight from a "family" group to a living-with-others situation and never lived by herself. But she also learned that you can in fact develop as a person in the context of a relationship--you don't have to be alone to do it. Ruby learned that too, and chose on her own terms to be with Sapphire.

The wedding made so much sense to Rebecca and the crew that they couldn't imagine a wholesome couple like Ruby and Sapphire not having a wedding episode. They wanted it for years: The wedding concepts always included the tuxedo for Sapphire and the wedding dress for Ruby.

But pushback (often blamed on the conservative standards of the international market) led to negotiations trying to keep Ruby and Sapphire's relationship from being explicit. Rebecca and the Crew were very tired of this double standard, and they were especially irritated by attempts to claim a wedding wouldn't be well received by a core demographic or wouldn't make sense for Steven's character. But other shows had done weddings and Steven had been established to love weddings already.

Rebecca kept adding more elements to the wedding episode to answer all the concerns, but she didn't want to back down from explicit marriage between these characters. They deserved it. And the audience deserved to see this as wholesome, like any other cartoon wedding. Eventually they got their way and were allowed to have the wedding. But the ordered episodes were also coming to a close without promise of more, so Rebecca had to request more episodes to be able to wrap up the storyline!

And of course, there is Steven, the true heart of the team. A very interesting aside discusses Garnet's leadership and how the network pushed the Crewniverse to acknowledge Steven as the leader. This was successfully resisted throughout as well--because Garnet is the leader (unless she's incapacitated, of course). It's fantastic that this concept was preserved because too often a young male chosen one is elevated above people with more experience and knowledge because of that chosen one tradition, so it's really nice to have a show acknowledge that team leadership is more appropriate for an adult.

4. ERA 3

Beginning with a discussion of the Diamonds, this chapter deconstructs the dysfunctional "family" of the Diamonds (who are said to be based on tropes about evil stepmothers and stepsisters), with the thread of dysfunction originating with White Diamond.

Yellow is physical, Blue is emotional, White is judgmental, and Pink is impulsive. Some philosophy on why Pink is naturally manipulative and why she clashes so much with White is offered.

White believes her identity is to be imposed on all because she is the pinnacle of what should be--and therefore, she has the right to make decisions and statements about and on behalf of everyone. But her secret is that she can't do what the others do--act or feel or want. In trying to be everyone, she is no one.

And this becomes very important when she confronts Steven about his identity and turns out to be wrong. The triumph of Steven being totally, fully himself is a beautiful, simple revelation that's described as far more satisfying than the theories about Pink living inside him or Rose returning from his Gem.

Also discussed is Gem architecture. A lot went into this idea, and Steven Sugar weighs in to say he had to think of what it would mean for a world to have buildings but serve no human needs. That's why it's mostly focused on transport and storage. Even the broken planet is meant to indicate a place stripped for its resources, and everything serves a function that is meant to avoid looking like the human equivalents.

And there's another layer, too: a difference between Era 1 and Era 2. Era 2 became more functional to hide Era 1's broken bits, and older Homeworld buildings still have some "ornate and ancient" feel to them. And the fact that props, tools, and even walls and doors could be living was taken from a concept Rebecca thought was horrible from old Busby Berkeley movies, where people were inanimate objects and it was portrayed as lovely. Tom Herpich helped conceptualize these living objects.

Steven dealing with "princess tropes" is discussed here too. The Pebbles (worked on with Pendleton Ward) were sort of his Cinderella's mice, and all the locked-in-a-tower, having supportive tiny friends help you, getting princess clothes made, attending a ball, having to mind your manners stuff was intentionally related to fairy tales.

The point of doing that (besides fun) was to easily invoke the feeling that Steven was being made to be someone he's not, and that he was being treated like THIS is who he really is when it isn't. White Diamond as the "evil stepmother" is discussed with regard to her detailed features and massive scale. They generally didn't put fingernails and eyelashes on characters (especially not to indicate that they were women or girls!), but they decided White would get all of these feminine markers for tradition's sake.

Rebecca also invokes several other references that were included and describes the princess tropes as "chipping away at his integrity" setting him up for the final challenge with White.

There is again tons of concept art: Homeworld architecture, Pebbles, Diamond diagrams, background Jades and Lemon Jade Fusion, Comby, Diamond extraction chambers, and White Diamond.

5. CHANGE YOUR MIND

Now we finally begin to discuss Steven's identity. The "Perfect Steven," discussed in several interviews before this book's release, was an idea back in 2013; the "ultimate Steven," beefed up and shonen-looking, was far from perfect because OUR Steven is perfect, while this alpha hero Steven idea (used in Steven Universe Future) didn't belong being idolized in such a show.

They thought about having Steven fall apart into organic half and Gem half early in the show (during "Giant Woman" after a successful fusion and unfusion, even!), but they didn't try the concept until the last episode. They didn't want the "Pink" Steven to be portrayed as "better" even though he would be more powerful, so they decided he isn't whole without his organic self and he's just as much of a shell as the organic half. They absolutely did not want any ending that required Rose to be inside him or waiting to come back. But the debates were fierce--what DOES it mean to have Rose's Gem?

Ian Jones-Quartey brings in an anecdote about his own family to emphasize some of the immigrant themes that inspired aspects of the show. He had a brother who reinvented himself elsewhere away from family without resolving issues, and all the ramifications of that were explored in the show through Rose Quartz. (He is careful to say he doesn't think his immigrant experience is like being from another planet!) But he did say you can hurt your old family even if they were toxic or didn't know the real you, and you can hurt your new family by hiding your past. The Pizza family of course was also a more direct reference to Ian's Ghanaian family.

In talking about the new Fusions from this episode, Sunstone is largely described by Miki, who also got to board the Sunstone section. Sunstone was described as a cool 1990s character and the evolution just continued into making them a fourth-wall-breaking PSA dispenser. Obsidian is also discussed, with their sword being an early concept. Steven Sugar said they totally knew it would be forged in action. Obsidian being similar to the Temple design is of course another very early detail.

The story of how James Baxter got involved with one of the final scenes (Organic Steven and Pink Steven fusing in front of White Diamond) was shared. His family was fans of the show and Rebecca Sugar took the time to drive to a birthday party for his daughter and give her a drawing. He then owed her a favor, and this was it.

Concept art is again included, this time with sample boards, promo images, a Diamond fight concept, costume design changes for the Gems, new Fusions, the so-called "Mega Diamond" ship conglomerate, some scenes from the White Diamond confrontation, Pink Steven, multiple pages of James Baxter animation, corrupted Gems and their healed selves, and photos from the "Change Your Mind" premiere and some awards. The show has won one design-related Emmy, a Peabody Award, and a GLAAD award.

6. STEVEN UNIVERSE FUTURE

The book doesn't cover the movie because it got its own book, but dives right into Future. Ian Jones-Quartey emphasizes that the movie and Future are separate and different from the original show, which ENDED. After all, after that, Steven has a neck!

Some new names are invoked now: new writers Kate Tsang, Jack Pendarvis, and Taneka Stotts. They were excited to have Steven make HIS OWN mistakes instead of trying to clean up someone else's! Now, instead of doing the usual shonen anime thing and having the final battle be a big physical rumble, Steven has to make peace with himself and take an active role in coping with what all the fighting has done to him and what effect it's had on who he is (and who he wants to be). There is no sudden "I love myself!" answer, either. It's always a process.

Drew Green and Maya Petersen, who came on board as storyboarders officially in Future, also weighed in on writing for a "mature" show, how to deal with Steven being a "moral compass" while being sort of unreliable, and what they learned as Crew that they didn't know as fans. Drew didn't know Garnet never asks questions. Jack didn't realize the show never deviated from Steven's point of view. Taneka was nervous but excited to collaborate. Kate was worried about how established the show was and what to do as a new writer to contribute appropriately.

Maya was on the old Crew but not as a storyboarder, so felt like some of the "old" ideas ended up not being appropriate for the "new" Future in an embarrassing way--and dreaded the idea of dealing with Steven's emotional problems when they were similar to stuff she'd been through. She also was personally behind the idea of Steven wanting to dump his problems by becoming Stevonnie, and got to work with Etienne Guignard on inventing the Pearl creation backstory with Volleyball.

There's some discussion of "depression hobbies," stress, and the show's pacing. And they say Etienne was entertaining at pitches. There's even some discussion of how Greg is taken off a bit of a pedestal because his terrible restrictive life in the suburbs sounded wholesome to Steven and Greg presented it negatively.

And then there is some information about how the Crew felt behind the scenes due to fan reactions and negative press. Ian discusses feeling offended when the Black characters are described as bad examples, as if their cartoonized but realistic-in-context features are automatically caricatures.

Rebecca Sugar felt beaten down by some of these narratives and began to access mental health services, inspiring some of the content of "Mindful Education." A long reflection from Rebecca discusses people's infighting about her show and what she had a responsibility to show or not show in the story. She learned a lot about bullying from Cartoon Network's anti-bullying program and learned that bullies thrive on whatever attention you give them--unless it is made clear to them by a peer group that no one is impressed by their cruel actions. Also, not all negative feedback is bullying. Constructive criticism is different. Self-awareness can help you avoid internalizing what bullies might do or say to you.

Segueing from the discussion of how people are affected by and connect with the show, we then discuss how they chose as a team what should be covered as the show came to a close. They didn't have time to do quite a few stories they wanted time for, like a Rhodonite story, a Lars side story, and Diamond "prehistory" and religion; all of it was put aside for the main arc with Steven.

They thought people would find those stories about Homeworld and Off Color history very interesting, but so much of the show had been about Steven's Gem adventures, so keeping him mostly on Earth seemed appropriate. The acknowledgment of his battle damage, of his trauma, was necessary and real, and helpful in an important way to the core audience.

Oh, and there was some stuff about a cheeseburger tree. Don't ask.

In discussing the "reverse escapism" of the original show (Gem aliens are intrigued by everyday human culture, and realism is necessary), Rebecca says her views have changed on escapism and gets why some people want a soothing feel-better show. She acknowledged also that her own escapist dreams-come-true fulfilled in the show didn't feel like escapism because they were givens to the majority of mainstream culture, but were never guaranteed to marginalized people.

Rebecca ties in her several-times-told story about "Love Like You" and how the middle bit was when she didn't feel she was worth looking up to, and the realizations she had to tie the beginning to the end. Feeling like someone will like you less if they know you more is terrible. So sometimes a show like this can be helpful in telling people that they belong when their fantasies are things like "I want to be loved" and "I want to know I exist."

In Future, Steven has to connect to who he is and love that person--and understand that person enough to finally feel that even if he's not fixing their problems or saving their world right this second, Steven deserves his family's love and support, and they WANT to give it to him.

There's a huge amount of supplemental material in this section so there's no way I could name it all. The charts for Future's timeline are pretty straightforward, though a few episodes like "A Very Special Episode," "Why So Blue," "In Dreams," and "Bismuth Casual" aren't specifically represented and a couple are in a different order ("Prickly Pair" was conceived as happening after "Fragments" and "Homeworld Bound").

Steven feeling like a monster, having intrusive thoughts, having not forgiven the Diamonds, and getting help/moving on--it's all there.

We have keys, color scripts, and boards for the new opening and some various backgrounds and storyboard art from episodes. Model sheets for Shep, Nice Lapis and Mean Lapis, Jasper, Steven Tag Gems, Pink Steven Powers, Monster Steven. New house concepts, Era 3 Homeworld concept art for the Diamond environments, and background art for the Reef.

New Connie and Greg designs. Concepts for Mega Pearl, the Rose Quartzes, Bluebird, and Morganite (who didn't get used). And there are some photos from recording and the conference room. There are even some extras from "Crossover Nexus," the crossover with OK K.O.!--including an unused cut scene that included Ruby and Sapphire fighting. The rest of the book is a bunch of adorable Crewniverse art--extras, blog drawings, promos, and gifts to each other.

NOTABLE

1.

The first timeline chart in the book features a cool sketch of the original Off Colors, which at the time this planning document was drafted included unused Off Colors Flint and Chert.

We knew of their existence already because of an episode of the podcast, but these two unexpectedly appeared as incidental characters in the Steven Universe Future episode "Homeworld Bound," identified only in the credits. Sad to think that instead of banding with the Off Colors, these two were probably shattered for their crime (being Quartzes who don't want to fight) and that's why we see them being repaired in this episode. Later, there's some brainstorming for types of Off Colors and "a Ruby that wants to wear limb enhancers" is mentioned as well.

2. 

It looks like there was also originally more juice to the story of tracking down the events of the war culminating in Pink Diamond's assassination.

One of the timelines talks about Steven thinking it makes sense that Pearl can't talk about her involvement because she might have been a double agent, explaining why Rose Quartz always knew what Pink Diamond was doing. It seems like that bit was supposed to be included in Garnet's version of the story she believed in "Your Mother and Mine." Seems like they originally conceived Garnet's story to inspire the Off Colors to become pirates and freedom fighters, though in the show's canon this storytelling happened after Lars had already reinvented himself the way he did.

Sadie was also supposed to be sending letters to Lars via Steven, which is funny since the "Letters to Lars" episode is just a montage Steven letter. And of course it's specified that Steven was supposed to get Pink Diamond flashbacks by going to the Palace on Homeworld.

3. 

The second chart in the book makes references to Sadie's reinvention of herself as a parallel to Lars, Greg, and Pink Diamond all doing the same thing, and how positive it is to embrace such a thing--a version of yourself that YOU create.

I love that Yellow Diamond's arm ship arm-wrestling the Cluster was always part of the plan.

There's some more explicit direction to have Connie help Steven understand the Diamonds as "strict parents," and a lot more emphasis on everyone realizing Rose had been inspired by THEM rather than them all following her.

White Diamond is presented here as if she thinks of Pink Diamond as a "daughter" (whom she now understands she has "lost"). There are notes on how the Diamonds have a responsibility to their children and should attend to it before just continuing to make more.

4.

One of the concept art images for the Off Colors features Rhodonite crouching by Padparadscha saying "Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you." It's very interesting because she DOES seem to protect Padparadscha in the show, but doesn't seem confident about it in her final version, even though it does seem like she'd be "programmed" to guard aristocratic Gems because of her Ruby and Pearl makeup. Cool.

5.

A "Crew Cameos" spread was included, which is of great interest to some of us who loved seeing the Crew insert themselves into the show. Not every SU Crew person who's been represented in a crowd was there, but this crowd included Amish Kumar, Kat Morris, Amanda Winterstein, Angie Wang, Lamar Abrams, Emily Walus, Mary Nash, Joe Johnston, Christy Cohen, Danny Cragg, Hilary Florido, Danny Hynes, Matt Burnett, Ben Levin, Elle Michalka.

6.

The official national flower of South Korea, Hibiscus syriacus, is the name of Pink Diamond's flower.

7.

One of Steven Sugar's comments about the silhouette difference between humans and Gems points out that humans have ears. This seems to be pretty good confirmation that they are not supposed to have ears, despite that sometimes we'll see ears drawn on them in some frames.

8.

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond is characterized in this book as "self-hating" in a really interesting way, saying that because she believed she was not capable of compassion, she practically worshiped those who demonstrated that ability and thought they were so much better than her--which is described as "intoxicating" and resulted in others being drawn to her. How interesting is that!

9.

Timelines reveal that early plans for Pink Diamond's first Pearl originally had her getting destroyed by Pink during  a game, and then her destruction was rewritten as a punishment from the Diamonds after Pink Pearl defended Pink Diamond to the other Diamonds. They went back to the idea of her getting hurt by Pink for the final version, though the cracked face and control by White Diamond was not on the agenda until they started writing "Change Your Mind."

10.

The approximate ages of the major characters, based on emergence, are revealed on these timelines. It begins with a cracked-planet-looking graphic depicting four tiny Diamonds emerging at 20,000 years ago. Some suspicious "blacked out" redacting surrounds a long timeline tail that goes back before that, which may mean there are secrets they still don't want to reveal. But the dates go like this:

20,000 years ago: The Diamonds emerge.

11,000 years ago: Pearl is custom-made for Pink Diamond.

8,000 years ago: Sapphire emerges (on Homeworld).

6,000 years ago: Ruby emerges (on a colony).

5,750 years ago: Garnet is formed.

5,600 years ago: Lapis is poofed and put in the mirror.

5,200 years ago: Jasper emerges (on Earth).

5,050 years ago: The Cluster is planted.

5,000 years ago: Amethyst emerges (on Earth).

4,500 years ago: The Crystal Gems found Amethyst.

3,000 years ago: Peridot emerges (on Homeworld).

40 years ago: Pearl found Lapis's mirror at the Galaxy Warp.

And of course we know 14 years ago Steven is born!

11.

Originally the Diamonds were based on a quartet of themes: Love, Fear, Pride, and Sorrow. It got too complicated to keep and it was abandoned, with Pink's identification of "love" being described as "particularly outdated."

12.

Notes on a sketch say that Pearl was inspired to become bold and unashamed because Pink's questions drove her to have opinions, and it's said that Rose "fell in love" with her boldness.

13.

Rebecca tells the story of driving off a ridge and getting stuck in the desert, comparing this to Ruby's tumble during her Wild West adventure and using it as inspiration. She's told this story before but here it is in print. She also included the story about using the flowers from a friend's wedding to put in Ruby's hair.

14.

Rebecca describes having to "fight" notes she was given when it had to do with Ruby and Sapphire's relationship. One she describes as NOT fighting was for a signing card depicting Ruby and Sapphire dancing. It was called "too romantic" and she decided not to worry about it since it wasn't the actual show content.

She was also scolded over her book The Answer because the powers that be expected her to downplay that relationship. She always argued that queer youth deserved these things.

15.

Tom Herpich describes being inspired to name Blue Diamond's comb "Comby" because he was watching the news about Comey getting fired from the FBI. It's also a mineral-related term and I always assumed that reference was intentional, but maybe it's not and this is the only intended significance to Comby's name?

16.

Rainbow Quartz 2.0's design is not discussed, though the other two new Fusions from "Change Your Mind" (Sunstone and Obsidian) were. RQ2 has some sketches included, but no accompanying narrative in the text.

17.

A sheet of corrupted Gems and their healed selves is offered, though it doesn't appear to be final. The obelisk in "Serious Steven" is labeled Albite. The unnamed Worm Monster, Desert Glass, and Watermelon Tourmaline are included. An unnamed birdlike Gem represents the Big Bird monster from "Giant Woman." The crab monster from "Arcade Mania" is labeled Blue Chalcedony. The Tongue Monster is drawn uncorrupted but not named. The Flower Monster from "Back to the Kindergarten" is labeled Grossular Diopside or Titanite. The invisible monster from "Island Adventure" is labeled Moonstone. The Lighthouse Gem is labeled White Topaz. A form for Larimar that was used in "Change Your Mind" but changed in Future is there. The Slinker is listed as Chrysocolla. And the Crab Monster is listed as Aventurine.

On the next page, this is changed to Bixbite (as it was in Steven Universe Future), and we then also have Lace Amethyst, Blue Lace Agate, Crazy Lace Agate (Fusion), Ocean Jasper, the Mother Centipeetle Nephrite (Facet 413 Cabochon 12) and three other Nephrites, Angel Aura Quartz, a hooded Jasper, Zebra Jasper, Biggs Jasper, Watermelon Tourmaline (labeled as Fusion of Gem * Onion--huh?), Snowflake Obsidian, "Little" Larimar, and Orange Spodumene (who was the Worm).

18.

The Rhodonite side story would have been about the love story of a Ruby and a Pearl working for Morganite. Images of Morganite and her servants, unfused, are in the book. We do not get this additional information, but Rebecca said in a panel shortly before the book's release that Rhodonite's story would have been about finding out that she had been Rejuvenated 17 times because her components kept falling in love and needing to be reset.

19.

Referring to the Diamonds on one of the charts, Steven's perspective is "I can't believe I helped these" and then there's a censor bar. Welp.

20.

Some included art by Hilary Florido features Kevin with a souped-up Koala Princess car and another where Kevin is staring at himself in the mirror in front of an altar to himself.

21.

Rebecca's sweater collection is included in the Crew art.

[SU Book and Comic Reviews]

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

it took me forever to decide where to go with this chapter and i was literally getting fed up editing it 😭 i’ve been so busy with all the chaos goin on in my life rn too so yeah writing’s been feeling delayed over all but i decided to just finalize this one for rn and uhhh sorry if it seems funky or shortttt

//Chapter 3: Vanished

The next day, Trevor went back to Sterling Lake Park, after spending the night at Wade’s. He agreed to meet up with him there later, walking around the park with his earbuds in. As he threw himself down on his usual bench, he settled on listening to his usual playlist of his favorite songs. He scrolled through nosedivr once again, taking a photo of the lake. It was foggy, and the thick air sat atop the water. He liked when it was like that. A sturdy drumbeat thumped in his ears, making him feel whole. He paused it briefly, just to change it to a different song that was even louder, but with the lack of music he could now hear the crunch of gravel not too far away. He thought he told Wade to come later on? He looked up from his phone, pulling out an earbud. It was the guy from yesterday.

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Amanda?” He asked, glancing around.

“Uhh she’s.. not here today. I kinda came to see if you were here. I wanna get to know more people at this park if I’m gonna hang ‘round here more I guess.”

“But she doesn’t like me?”

“She don’t gotta know.”

“Well aren’t you Boyfriend of the Year.”

“Oh uh, we aren’t dating yet.”

“Thought she was your girl though.”

“She is, she is. But it’s nothing serious. Not yet. And I don’t know what happened between you guys but you don’t seem that bad, so if I wanna talk to you that’s more of a her problem than me.”

“Huh.”

Today Michael wore an eCola shirt, which was obviously made to resemble their old logo, with blue jeans. He had on a pair of red sneakers this time to match the color of the shirt. They looked slightly newer, compared to the pair he wore yesterday. He dressed nice for such a basic style. Trevor on the other hand, threw on an old, frayed Love Fist t-shirt, and messy jeans. He wore a different pair of boots, some kind of knockoff of a popular name brand. A pair of purple lensed circular glasses sat on his head, the nose pieces caught in his hair.

“So.. uh. Mind if I sit there?”

“Not like I own the bench or anything, go right ahead.”

He cautiously sat next to Trevor, hands in his lap. Trevor started one of his other playlists up again, settling on a mix of Paramore and Green Day. He left an earbud out, just so he wouldn’t be completely rude. He mindlessly scrolled, occasionally looking back at the lake or casting a sideways glance at Michael, who was looking at him funny. Sighing, he paused his music, putting his earbuds away.

“What.”

“I.. nothin’ man. I just, I dunno. What is the point of coming here?”

“It’s a public fuckin’ park man.”

“I know, but you said that you don’t even really like the people here, so what’s the point?”

“There is no ‘point’ to it. I just like time to myself is all. These guys don’t bother me, and I don’t bother them. They only start trouble when they see fit.”

“Ah… I see? What were you listening to by the way?”

Trevor stifled a groan, not really wanting to talk to the guy when he had time to freely plot his scheme.

“Pop punk shit. Ever heard of it?”

“Uh, no? I thought punk wasn’t supposed to be popular. Or fit in. Or whatever.”

“That’s merely the ideology, which I do follow, dear Michael. I just like the sound I guess. You know Paramore?”

“Not really. I don’t listen to that stuff much.”

“Then what the fuck do you listen to?”

“Not sure if it has a genre per say, but I like that song Radioactive goin’ around? Songs that sound like that I guess.”

“You like Imagine Dragons?”

“That’s what they’re called?”

Trevor could only stare at him. Was this guy living under a rock?

“Uh.. yeah. Y’know what- never mind, what else do you listen to?”

“80s music?”

No wonder this guy was unaware of who’s popular now.

“Amanda’s been trying to get me into groups like the 1975. I actually kinda like them.”

Trevor rolled his eyes.

“Of course she did.”

“They’re not that bad to be honest. She likes that weird alternative shit.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, there is a name for that genre. Indie rock. Can’t stand the stuff.”

“How come?”

“You know, you ask a lotta fuckin’ questions.”

“I’m just tryna understand this shit here. I ain’t in the loop of all these trends.”

“Well, for your information I just find the style to be too slow and whiny for my taste. I like fast, upbeat, wild stuff.”

“Any recommendations then? I wanna impress Amanda by at least knowing one artist off that nosedivr thing she goes on.”

He raised a brow, not really wanting to share anything else knowing he would just repeat it back to her, but he shrugged and continued.

“Alright. Besides pop punk, I like experimental songs. Underground groups. Crystal Castles are my favorite.”

“Never heard of ‘em.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Right.”

“If you want more indie rock shit though, I suggest listening to I don’t know, the Arctic Monkeys? That seems more like her taste.”

“These bands have such weird names.”

“I think bands have always been like that.”

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you didn’t like that stuff? How do you know the name of one of those groups?”

“Ugh… I guess I might as well say it if you’re gonna get with her, but we were friends at some point. She introduced me to those bands, but even then I didn’t really like it. We had a stupid falling out I’d rather not get into.”

“Oh.. sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. Shit happens. You definitely seem like her type though, no wonder she got with you.”

“What’s her type?”

“Heh. As if I’d tell you.” He scoffed.

“C’mon man, please?”

“Nope.”

Michael frowned, slumping in his seat.

“Fine. Whatever. Not like I need to know.”

“You could at least pretend you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“You clearly do, bro.”

He sat arms crossed, turning a smidge away from Trevor. This was his opportunity to listen to his tunes again, but before he could Michael spoke up.

“Can I… can I listen to whatever you’re listening to?”

“Huh?”

“I wanna hear what you’re into.”

Trevor shot him a puzzled look.

“Uh.. okay.”

Wiping off an earbud, he handed one to Michael. He already had one in.

“Pick your poison cowboy.”

“Cowboy?”

“Just a nickname I give people.” He shrugged.

Michael settled on his experimental music, actually nodding along to the sound. They were closer than a minute ago, and it made Trevor uncomfortable for whatever reason. Maybe because he was never in such close proximity to strangers, but the other part of him didn’t care that much. Michael’s eyes were closed, smiling.

“You like it?”

“Yeah! Reminds me of synth stuff from the 80s, just more modern I guess.”

He smiled back at Michael, appreciating the fact there was someone else who liked the music he liked. The two listened to a couple different playlists he had, up until the moment Wade arrived at the park.

“Trevor! Hey!”

“Woah. Who’s your friend?”

“Hm?” He pulled out the single earbud, turning his head around. Wade had clown makeup on, making Trevor jump in his seat.

“Fucks sake. Hey Wade.”

“Ooh who’s this?”

He wasn’t sure if Wade freaked him out or not, seeing as the guy not only had matted locs, but many facial piercings as well. And the clown shit. He stood up to introduce them to one another.

“Wade, this is Michael. Michael, Wade.”

The way Michael looked at him was like a kid seeing a zoo animal for the first time. He looked bewildered, but not disgusted.

“Hi. What’s with the..?” He wavered a hand in Wade’s direction.

“Oh! It’s jus’ clown face. Not tryna scare ya or nothin’!”

“Uh huh… man. How have I never been around these parts? You guys are real different.”

“You got that right, Mike.”

“Seems like I’ve been missin’ out. I hangout with some dudes who would hate this place if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll have to meet ‘em sometime.” Trevor chuckled.

“They’re real cool guys. Didn’t expect our paths to cross, but anything’s possible in this fuckin’ city.”

“Oh yeah. Land of opportunities, for all types of wackjobs.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

A hand tapped Trevor on the shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, Trevor, but are we still gonna talk about the Merryweather thingy-”

“Wade! Shut it-”

“What Merryweather thing?”

“Nothing, nothing. Not important.” He said, gritting his teeth, glare strong on Wade.

“Okay..”

“But you said we’d talk about it over icecream!”

“Later, Wade. Not right now.”

“Fiiine. Can we still get icecream though?”

“Sure. Promise. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay! Bye Trevor, bye stranger!”

Michael lifted a hand to haphazardly to wave goodbye.

“What was that about?”

“I told ya man, nothin’. Just going over some plans we’re making.”

“Is it about that special event being held there?”

“How you know about that?”

“Mandy told me.”

“Mandy… yeah. Figures as much.”

“She got an invite, and wants me to go as her plus one. I don’t know if I really wanna go though, I’m still pretty unfamiliar with all this.”

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Seriously, what is your beef with those guys?”

“I told you, they start shit when they want. Taught ‘em a lesson and that was it. Nearly got me banned from this place, but it was kinda worth the looks on their faces.”

“You are.. quite peculiar y’know. Anyway, you mind showing more of that music? I was honestly gettin’ a kick outta it.”

“Uh, yeah.”

He sat back down next to Michael, handing him the same earbud as before. He clicked on one of his favorite Crystal Castles songs, Vanished. As they were listening, Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hey wait a minute.. I think I’ve heard this before.”

“You have? I thought you didn’t know them.”

“No, I mean yeah I haven’t, but that’s not it. The lyrics. Vocals. I’ve heard them in a different song.”

“Oh.”

“Lemme think, lemme think, ah… I got it! Pass me your phone real quick.”

His fingers typed in the song title fast, pressing play right away. It was an indie rock song, much to Trevor’s dismay. But something stopped him from complaining, seeing how Michael’s face lit up.

“Yeah! This is it, Sex City by Van She. Y’know, I honestly think that’s neat.”

“What is?”

“The fact that a song you like, samples a song I like! Who would’ve guessed?” He said, eyes sparkling. Trevor didn’t notice how bright they were until now. The eye contact, along with the lack of space between them, made him feel stuffy again. He averted his eyes back to his phone, trying to loosen up a bit. As the song played, he savored in the sound, shocking himself a bit. The rock sound was there, but had an 80s sort of feel to it. The song finished before he knew it.

“So.. What’d ya think?”

“You know my thoughts on indie shit. Wasn’t for me, sorry.”

“Oh c’mon, you know you liked it.”

“Nope. Prefer Vanished.”

“Yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, but I honestly think they’re both really good. You think that too, I can feel it.”

“Whatever you say bro.”

He switched the song over to that Grimes song he listened to yesterday, the two of them sitting silently. It was a pleasant afternoon they shared. Suddenly Michael’s phone went off, and he yanked the earbud out.

“Ah shit. I gotta take this. Mandy.”

“Gotcha.”

Trevor grabbed the other earbud, putting it back in. He saw Michael wave his free hand around, looking close to hurling his phone right into the lake. Trevor assumed he must’ve been shouting as well, from the way other people were looking at him. Hanging up not much later, he returned to the bench, as Trevor put his earbuds away.

“Fuckin’ Christ.”

“So.. how’d it go?”

“She’s finally not mad at me anymore, but demanded I go take her shopping now. I swear, she’s gonna clear out my bank account or something.”

“How? You guys aren’t even dating.”

“I know, but I just can’t say no to her.”

“Uh huh.”

“Look, I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, but I really gotta go before she goes back to being pissed at me. See ya around?”

“I’ll be here man.”

Michael stood up, storming away. Seemed like he had a short temper, huh? He wondered to himself how long he was gonna stick around, seeing how Amanda’s dating history was… an extensive list. He thought back to last night, when he had seen that post of them, remembering the fact that no guy stayed for longer than a week. It almost made him bummed, seeing as he only had Ron and Wade for friends. Lester too, but that was on rare occasion. Shit. The plans. What time was it?

“Ah, fuck me.” He muttered. How did he let the day go by so quick?

He shot a text to Wade, telling him to grab Ron and meet at some icecream place. He did promise Wade after all.

Ron ended up meeting them there a little bit later, apologizing profusely before Trevor told him to just sit down and shut up. He did just that, almost apologizing once more.

“Now, let’s get down to business. Who do we know that would help us sneak into that club to cause sheer utter mayhem?”

Ron raised his hand excitedly.

“I could get Floyd maybe-”

“Definite fuckin’ no. He would have a heart attack the minute he set foot in there.”

This was getting nowhere. He tossed his head back to look up at the sky. As he did, he saw a couple walking out of the icecream place.

“Oh fucking hell.”

Was this guy following him or something? He snapped his head forward, trying to be a little more hidden.

“What? Trevor what is it?”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down Ron!”

He made all three of them lower their heads as the couple walked away, peeking over his shoulder to make sure they were gone. As he did, he could’ve sworn he saw Michael looking back at him. The both of them turned away as quick as possible from the split second of eye contact.

“Trevor?” Ron repeated.

“It was nothing. Just thought I saw someone.”

“Ain’t that the Michael fella I met today?”

“Nope. Don’t think it is.”

“Are ya sure-”

“Pretty fucking positive. Now, back on topic.”

The next hour or so still went nowhere. Wade had gone through two servings of icecream, and Ron started to get restless. Trevor was just bored.

“Ughhh there has to be something we can do!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Trevor. We’ll find someone, soon. There’s enough time isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but I’m not waitin’ til the last possible fuckin’ second to get a guy to help us out here.”

“But we still have time.”

“If you fuckin’ say so Ron.”

The three of them called it a night, as Trevor tossed around the idea of possibly getting Michael involved in his head. On one hand he wanted to out of spite just to make Amanda and the other hipsters mad, and on the other he didn’t want to screw up whatever new friendship he had started with Michael. Ron did say they had time to find someone soon. They weren’t exactly in a rush, but he still wanted to make sure their plan was concrete. They all went back to Wade’s, Trevor deciding to take a walk along the beach. He threw on the same playlist from earlier, watching the sunset. As he walked, he didn’t pay much mind to where he was going, bumping into someone.

“Ah fuck, watch where you’re going-”

“Shit, sorry man-”

As they spun around from the collision, he realized exactly who he had run into.

“Trevor?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck? Are you following me or something?”

“Huh?”

“This is the third time I’ve seen you today. What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, it’s a public fuckin’ beach man.” He said, mocking the comment Trevor had made earlier.

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Hey, I’m just tellin’ you how it is. I didn’t purposely search for you, hell I didn’t even know you lived this way.”

“I do. So make like a tree and fuck off.” He said bitterly.

“Woah, chill the fuck out. What’s your deal? I thought we were cool man.”

“I don’t like being followed.”

“I just told you I wasn’t!”

“It doesn’t exactly seem like it. You just so happen to look for me this morning, and just happen to go to the same icecream place I went, and then I find you here? I mean Jesus-”

“I’m telling you, it’s all purely coincidence.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fuckin’ hell man..” He mumbled.

“Y’know, you’re as fuckin’ stubborn as Amanda is. I already told you-”

Trevor balled his fists, before jabbing a finger into Michael’s chest.

“Don’t fucking compare me to her.”

Michael threw his hands up defensively, not realizing he touched a nerve.

“Woah woah, easy dude. I didn’t think it was that bad between you guys.”

He exhaled loudly, unclenching his hands.

“It wasn’t. Isn’t. Just.. don’t compare me to her.”

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard himself.

“Look, I think you’re cool and all but you can’t flip out on me like that. I mean we are just getting to know each other y’know. I can’t have you wanting to bite my head off like that if I just so happen to keep running into you. I really am just trying to navigate the area better, so forgive me if I came off as some sorta fuckin’ stalker. Amanda went home and I had nothing better to do so I chose to walk over this way.”

“Hmph. Fine. Whatever.”

“So we good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, since we’re already here why don’t we just hangout or something?”

Trevor folded his arms, trying to look like he didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It didn’t really work though, because he actually did want to talk to him more.

“If you insist.”

“Alrighty.”

The two of them started to head in the direction of the boardwalk, neither one speaking yet. After finding a bench to sit on as the sun sunk below the horizon, the silence was still there. This sort of thing was bizarre for both of them in different ways. Michael never really frequented these parts of LS, and Trevor never really hit it off with any kind of stranger. Ron and Wade were exceptions if anything, and he had known Lester for a while now. Yet there was something about this guy that didn’t make him feel like he was spending time with a stranger, even though he knew jack shit about him. He might as well try to make small talk.

“So I-”

“So uhh-”

They spoke over each other while trying to start up a conversation, making things feel a little more awkward.

“Shit sorry, you go first.”

“Nah nah you go.”

“Um. Okay. So.. tell me about yourself? We haven’t really talked about much besides music.”

“Yeah.. right. What do ya wanna know?”

“I just asked you to tell me about yourself, so it’s your job to decide what to say.”

Michael gave him a sardonic smile in response to that, partly because he wasn’t sure what to bring up about himself. It seemed like they were gonna be here a while if they wanted to say the most basic shit you say when getting to know someone.

“Well, I ain’t that interesting if you really need to know. I’m guessing you already know about my whole ‘affinity for the 80s’ thing, like the culture n shit that came from it. Real sick stuff.”

“If you say so.”

“Yeah. Anyway, if you really want to know plain shit about me though, I will tell ya that my favorite color’s blue.”

Trevor snickered at that.

“Pfft, seriously? We’re talking favorite colors now?”

“Hey man, you said you wanted to know more about me.”

“Uh yeah, but that’s so fuckin’ silly.”

“Maybe it is, but what about you? You got one?”

“Favorite color? You kiddin’?”

“I’m waiting..”

“Uh huh… I’ll give. Always liked the color red I guess. Like, in variety. Not picky about something as childish as that.”

“What’s childish about that?”

“Cuz only kids exchange that whole ‘oh what’s your favorite color?’ thing. It’s like if I were to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is.”

“Hmm.. I’d probably say a T-Rex.”

“Oh now you’re just pulling my dick. And no, I’m not telling you what mine is just because you did.”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you though. That was all you.”

“Mm… shut it.”

“You got one though?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Ah ah, I didn’t ask which one, I asked if you had one.”

“Well I don’t, so knock it off.”

“That’s fair. I won’t push.”

They grew silent for the second time that night, before Trevor mumbled something under his breath.

“It’s a pterodactyl..”

“What was that?”

He forced a breath through his nose, acting annoyed.

“It’s a fuckin’ pterodactyl. That’s mine. Okay?”

“Hah, okay. Any reason why?”

“You’re so nosy.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation about getting to know each other man.”

“Ugh, I know that.” He said, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I think it’s cool that they could fly and shit. I like flying.”

“You like flying?”

“Loved it.”

“Wait, you tellin’ me you fly? Like, planes and shit?”

Trevor winced at the words, regretting what he just said.

“I did.. at some point. Air Force shit. They said I was one of the best they’d seen in a while but I.. left. Sort of.”

“Then why’d you leave?”

“I didn’t exactly leave on my own accord. More or less got kicked out.”

“How come-”

“I don’t like talking about it. I know we’re opening up or whatever the fuck but that.. that’s still too soon for me to want to bring up. Especially to someone I barely know.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He said, even though it really wasn’t. It’s not like Michael knew though, he really wasn’t trying to prod in a bad way.

It was almost pitch black by the time their conversation got to that point, only distant streetlight and the nearby pier lighting up their surroundings. The whole mood had shifted, and both of them decided to just break it off there.

“Hey uh, I’ll probably see you tomorrow man. If I’m with Amanda I think I’ll just send a wave or something your way.”

“Got it. See ya.”

“Bye.”

Trevor stayed put, watching Michael leave as he turned down a random one way street. This guy was tripping him out and he couldn’t pin point why. It was getting late though, and walked off himself back to Wade’s. He’ll save that vexed question for another night.

//ahhhhhh i rlly did not know what i wanted to do with this….,,., sorry if this wasn’t as good as the first two !! i alrdy know i repeated a bunch of stuff in there and i feel like it got kinda sloppy so again, soz (including typos or whtevr)

but uhhhh anyway yeah i cut it off here bc i wanted to continue some of this shit in the next chapter ig lol,, more stuff to come soon god willing

[survey--s]

39.

Do you have to take stairs or an elevator to get to your house? No, you just walk in straight off the street.

What do you usually order at Subway? I haven’t been to Subway for years, but when I did go, I used to get the meatball marinara with extra cheese.

Did an alarm wake you up this morning? Mike’s alarm did, but I went back to sleep and didn’t get up for another couple of hours which was nice. I definitely needed some sleep.

How long is your mother’s hair? She has very short hair.

Is there any particular place you’d like to vacation to next? Somewhere hot and sunny would be nice, lol.

What is your beer of choice, if any? I’m not a huge fan of beer though I’ve had some really nice flavoured ones in the past - the banana bread one was good.

Did you share a bed with anyone last night? Yeah, my husband and the dog, the same as every other night lol.

What colour is the frame containing your favourite photo or picture? Pale brown wood. Do you know anyone who volunteers regularly? Yeah, my mum does a lot of volunteer work.

How many surveys have you taken today, including this one? This is my first.

What have you done today? Slept in late, had a coffee, took the dog for a walk with Mike, came home, showered, had some breakfast and now I’m doing this and watching the Christmas specials of Keeping up Appearances. It’s only about 12.30pm though.

How’s your heart? It’s absolutely fine.

Have you ever worn suspenders? No.

What is your favourite car brand? I really like Mini Coopers.

Whose chore is it to clean the bathrooms in your house? We only have one. Normally I do it but that’s only because I work less hours than Mike does. We don’t tend to have set chores with the exception of the bins and mowing the lawn as I have a bad back and struggle to do it alone.

Have you ever ruined a nice pair of shoes, and how? Sure, through general wear and tear and wearing them in inappropriate weather lol.

What time is it right now? 12.26pm.

What time did you fall asleep last night, roughly? I think around 11.30pm or so.

Is there anybody else in the room with you? No - Mike is upstairs but there are two cats in here and a dog.

Pick your three favourite fruits. Raspberries, mango and honeydew melon.

Have you ever played Cards Against Humanity? No.

Who were the last friends you went to hang out with? Susie and Mark.

How many chairs are in the room you’re currently in? Two chairs and a three-seater sofa.

What do you think of Angelina Jolie? She’s a good actress and she’s quite pretty. Do you have a lot in common with your significant other? We have a similar sense of humour and love animals, and we’re both quite introverted too, but otherwise we have very little in common, When was the last time you watched a kid’s movie? Yesterday - I watched Aladdin and Alice in Wonderland.

How many siblings do you have? Zero.

Is your sense of humour more juvenile or mature? Both.

Are you doing anything important today? Nope, I was out all day yesterday and I’m out all day tomorrow, so today is just for chilling at home. It’s raining anyway, so it all worked out well in that respect.

How’s the wifi signal at your house? Reliable or not? Our internet connection is pretty good overall, yeah.

How’s the cell reception at your house? Absolutely fine.

Have you ever seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Loads of times. It’s one of my favourite old films, actually, though I’ve not seen it in a long time now.

Do you remember your dreams easily or do they disappear soon after waking? They disappear pretty much as soon as I wake up, though I can often remember random snippets through the day.

Are you bored right now? Nope.

What colour is your microwave? It’s black and silver.

What is your best friend’s middle name? He doesn’t have a middle name. Have you ever seen a pelican in real life? Yeah, at zoos and stuff.

If I were to bring you any type of food right now, what would you pick? Apple crumble and custard, which is what I plan to have to eat once I’ve fed all the animal their lunch.

Have you gambled in the past month in any form? Yeah.

Have you ever smoked a cigarette? Yeah.

When did you move into the house you’re currently living in? I moved in here in February 2018.

Are you more logical or artistic? I suppose I’m more logical overall.

How many pairs of shoes do you own? Around 15-20 pairs overall.

[karajaynetoday]

ours, for the rest of forever | ashton irwin

Hello friends! Here is a godparent!Ash one shot, based on this blurb about being godparents with Ashton and also inspired in part by that scene in Season 5 of One Tree Hill when Brooke is randomly looking after a baby but has to also finish fashion sketches so Lucas comes to her rescue with babysitting and it is overall very soft and cute. You know the one! Lol. 

A very big thank you to Jex @sadistmichael​ , Anna @cheekysos​ , Jae @jae-writes-fanfiction​ and Hailey @talkfastromance4​ for proof-reading and providing feedback on this when it was in its draft stages. You’re all absolute gems! 

Anyway, enjoy the softness and as always, please let me know what you think! I’ve got some thoughts for a potential part 2, so we’ll wait and see how part 1 goes :)

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 3.3k words

Warnings: none

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

When your best friend Alice told you she was having a baby, you were over the moon. She was honestly one of the most kind-hearted people you knew, and the amount of love in her heart for others would only bloom more for a little baby to hold and cherish. Her partner James had been by Alice’s side since your university days, and their relationship was one that was literally #goals. They’d moved over to Los Angeles because James had an opportunity to work at an indie creative agency working with music artists, and when you followed a year or so later to pursue a consulting job, they’d welcomed you with open arms into the little community they’d formed of Australian ex-pats, LA creatives and generally good quality, salt of the earth people. 

In the early days, there were lots of late nights (that became early mornings) running amok in West Hollywood, going from one house party to the next, but as you grew older, it became more likely to be a quiet Sunday sesh in someone’s backyard, with a barbeque cooking and someone playing their favourite tunes on a portable speaker while you floated in the swimming pool or lounged about on the grass with everyone’s various pets in attendance. When you met Ashton, he was drumming shirtless at his own house party, and then doing shots with James and their friend Calum. You were more than a little intimidated, although he had a kind face and welcoming nature, Ashton was forthcoming his opinions. On the other hand, you were always more reserved, and it took you  time to feel like you belonged with their crazy crew of friends. One night, you and Ashton ended up alone in the kitchen sharing some chicken nuggets and potato gems tater tots after a wild night on the house part dancefloor, and from there you could feel a solid friendship starting to take hold. 

A few months after Alice and James told you they were expecting, they’d invited you and Ashton out to brunch at one of your favourite spots. It was a little hole-in-the-wall café in Studio City that you’d first come to after Ashton wouldn’t stop raving about how good their iced coffees were. You all ordered your favourites (avocado smash with a side of smoked salmon and a hash brown for you, raspberry hotcakes for Alice, a breakfast burger for James, and pulled pork eggs benedict with a side of halloumi for Ashton) and were chatting away about your weeks at work when Alice reached down and pulled two envelopes out of her tote bag and handed on to you and one to Ashton. You took them, looking confusedly at Alice and James, who had big goofy smiles on their faces.

“Well, go on! Open them!” Alice half-shouted excitedly, squeezing James’ hand on top of the table. You and Ashton glanced at each other, perplexed, before tearing open the envelopes and finding a card inside. Yours read, “Will you be my godmother?” in gold writing on the front, and inside was an ultrasound photo with a handwritten note from Alice that made you tear up when you started reading it. You could see in your peripheral vision that Ash had a corresponding card in his envelope too, and he was standing up to give James and Alice a hug with an enthusiastic “Fuck YES! Of course I will!” that garnered some disapproving looks from the middle-aged women sitting near you. You held it together just enough to stand up and exchange hugs and choke out a “Y-y-yes” to Alice and James, before basically bursting into full blown tears of happiness and apologising profusely as your brunch was delivered to the table. As you wiped away your tears and managed to begin eating your avocado smash, you felt Ashton squeeze your hand reassuringly under the table, and when you glanced towards him he was grinning at you with a smile that was as bright as a thousand suns. 

It was a normal June day at the office a few months later when your phone pinged with a text from Alice in your group chat with her, James and Ashton that 

 read “It’s go-time. We’ll keep you updated!”. You replied with lots of exclamation points and crying emojis, and for Alice and James to let you know if they needed anything, and a few minutes later Ashton had penned a full paragraph about the beauty of the creation of life, how he knew that Alice and James would be incredible parents, and that he couldn’t wait to meet the little one once they made their way into the world. Ashton was frustratingly eloquent sometimes. Later that night, you received a photo message of a small, pink baby snuggled up on Alice’s chest, with James’ arm thrown around her shoulders, and the caption “Charlie Rose, ten fingers, ten toes. Come visit tomorrow, she can’t wait to meet you x” and you could barely sleep from the anticipation of meeting your darling goddaughter for the first time.

Ashton insisted on meeting you at the hospital so you could visit Alice, James and Charlie together (“Dude, we’re a godparent team here! A package deal! A dynamic duo! Can’t have you getting in there as the favourite from day one!”) and you’d never seen him more gentle or smitten than when the small, wriggly bundle of blankets that was Charlie Rose was placed in his arms. Ashton rocked her gently, kissing her head, and whispering to her about how incredible she was and how excited he was to see her grow. James was snapping away with his camera, and he asked you and Ash to stand together for a photo holding Charlie, which would later be stuck on your fridge for years to come (and possibly be your phone lockscreen, but no need to mention that to Ashton). 

Charlie was a tricky baby at first, resisting sleep and struggling with colic, but Alice and James were incredible and persistent and by the time she was 6 months old, they basically had the hang of this parenting thing. They didn’t want to christen Charlie in a church, but instead decided to hold one of your cherished backyard barbeques as a naming celebration for her. All of your nearest and dearest were there, and Alice’s mum had even flown in from Australia to meet her newest granddaughter. Despite it being an incredibly informal affair, Ashton insisted on making a speech about how he felt to be in Charlie’s life, to love and support her through every milestone and challenge she might encounter along the way. Charlie was happily gurgling in Ashton’s arms as he spoke, and she reached up to grab at his cheeks when he told her he loved her. Alice’s mum insisted on getting photos of everyone, including you and Ashton holding Charlie, and you tried to ignore the butterflies you felt when Ash slid his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side for a cosy photo pose. Were you actually starting to fall for him, or was it just the baby fever talking? Because damn, that man looked good with a baby in his arms.

When Charlie was almost 12 months old, Alice decided that she wanted to go back to work a few days a week. Charlie would be in childcare for most of the days, but you’d recently adopted a flexible working arrangement with your own office, and you insisted that you would love to look after Charlie for one day a week. The older Charlie got, the more adventurous she became, so what you’d originally envisioned as nice, quiet days of baking and craft activities and napping soon became full of visits to the playground and the beach and the zoo. Once Ashton heard about your regular babysitting day, he insisted on clearing his schedule as best he could, and joined the outings you and Charlie went on. It’s so much easier to cope with her boundless energy (and occasional temper tantrums) when you and Ash are together, and you have to admit it’s just as nice on the quieter days as well, when you snuggle in on your couch to watch a Disney movie, or do some puzzles with Charlie on the lounge room floor. 

When Ashton was back out on tour, he’d insist on FaceTiming with you and Charlie on your babysitting day so he didn’t miss out on all the fun. Sometimes he’d read her a story or sing her a lullaby before naptime, and sometimes the timezones wouldn’t work out and he’d end up calling during naptime, so the two of you just spent a little time catching up on each other’s lives from your opposite sides of the country or the planet. Ashton also loved collecting little souvenirs for Charlie on his touring travels, and your group chat with Alice and James was regularly filled with photos of snow globes or little soft mascot toys he’d found in one city or the next. It was so cute how excited Ashton got when he found a new souvenir for Charlie, and you couldn’t help but imagine how adorable he’d be when he had his own children and carried on little traditions like this for them too. 

One particular weekend, Alice and James were going away overnight to attend a friend’s wedding nearby, and despite their anxiety and nerves (and admittedly, your own), they decided to leave Charlie with you for the night as your house is the main one besides their own that she spends time in. They dropped Charlie off just after lunchtime, and after a teary goodbye, she’s soon happily playing with her toy cars and trains on the lounge room carpet (including making broom-broom noises, what a cutie) when you get an unexpected call from your boss. They’re rambling about a client needing an urgent rewrite on something that you’d submitted the previous day, a pretty sizeable project, and you could feel yourself starting to fill with dread at the idea of having to rework the entire thing while also keeping Charlie happy and entertained. After managing to jot down the gist of the rewrite on the back of a colouring in page you found on your coffee table and ending the call with your boss, you took a deep, calming breath before looking over to where Charlie was still playing on the floor. Sure, she looked content and adorable now, but nap time was fast approaching, and then dinner, and then eventually bedtime, and there was nothing Charlie liked more than stomping her feet and putting up a fight where sleep was involved. It was time to call for help, and your fingers found Ashton’s contact in your phone and hit “call” before you realised what you were doing.

“Hey, how’s it going with my favourite girl?” Ashton answered cheerily, and your heart stopped beating for a moment before you mentally face-palmed when you realised that he was talking about Charlie, not you, being his favourite girl.

“Hey Ash! All good so far, but um… I think I’m going to need some help. My boss is having a crisis, so I need to smash out some edits and new content in the next three hours, but Charlie’s due to go for a nap and you know that she -” You could feel yourself starting to sound more panicked with each word that you spoke, but Ashton quickly cut you off with his soothing voice.

“That she likes to pick a fight at nap time, yes. A truly assertive future world leader on our hands, I reckon. I’m just finishing up a demo, but I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I’ll sort dinner as well, spaghetti sound okay?” He mused, sounding as calm as ever.

“That… would be amazing. Thank you. You’re actually the best human to exist, you know that?” You gushed, feeling some of your anxiety immediately begin to disappear. 

Within half an hour, Ash was in your lounge room handling Charlie’s nap time negotiations while you were furiously typing away at your laptop at the kitchen counter and fielding more frantic phone calls from your boss. Another 20 minutes passed before Ash proclaimed victory as Charlie lost her battle against sleep, and he came to see you in the kitchen and make a start on dinner. You were so lost in your task that you didn’t hear him come in, and you jumped a mile out of your seat in fright when he gently touched your shoulder in greeting.

“Jesus christ, Ash! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You huffed, taking your glasses off and rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. 

Ashton leaned on the counter opposite you and raised his eyebrows in concern. “Sorry love, didn’t realise you didn’t hear me come in. You good?” 

Damn it, why was he always so nice to you these days? Remember the days when you were scared of him because he used to argue with you about politics and the state of the world? Why did those seem somehow easier because fear was more natural to you than whatever this other feeling was that you were starting to have whenever Ashton was around you. 

You sighed and put your glasses back on, frowning briefly at the screen before hitting save one more time (just in case your bad luck took a turn and fucked you over with lost documents). 

“Yep. Sorry. It’s just been a bit of a day. Did Charlie go down okay?” You forced a smile as you glanced up at Ashton over the top of your laptop screen. 

“Yeah, she gave in once I offered another bedtime singalong. And maybe, juuuust maybe, I might have mentioned something about some sweets after dinner…” Ash looked at you guiltily, licking his lips nervously. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him, but you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

Ashton got started on making spaghetti while you tapped away at your computer, and soon enough you heard Charlie calling out for Ashton in her little sing-song voice on the baby monitor you had set up on the kitchen counter (“Asht-aaaaa! Where are youuuuu! Asht-aaaaa!”). The spaghetti smelled incredible, and when Ashton brought Charlie into the kitchen from her nap and she’d had a little while to play a bit more, you settled at the kitchen table to tuck into some dinner. Well, Charlie was more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it, but yours was delicious and for the third or fourth time that day, you thanked Ash profusely for being such a gem (to which he just gave you one of those dazzling smiles in response).  

After dinner, Ashton took Charlie for a bath and read her a bedtime story while you powered through the final part of the project edits you needed to finish before your boss burst a blood vessel. You could hear Ashton reading to Charlie on the baby monitor, doing all of the different character voices, and her little giggles in response were both breaking and warming your heart. Warming it with the cuteness and how much you loved that little girl and her cheeky soul, and breaking it with the guilt about how it was supposed to be you snuggled up reading to her, but instead you were frantically typing about key messages, marketing strategies and budget lines. You were doing your last section of re-writes when Ash came back into the kitchen, and this time you didn’t jump when he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. In fact, you leaned into his touch, and moaned quietly in relief as his thumbs began to work into the tension in your muscles.

“How’s it going?” Ashton asked quietly, continuing to press his hands into your back and shoulders.

“Almost there. Mostly just proof-reading now, and then I can send it and not fucking think about it for another second until at least Monday. Ash, I’m so sorry again, I know this isn’t what you had in mind for your Friday night and I should’ve been more organised but I just didn’t think that -” You began to ramble, feeling the guilt wash over you.

“Hey, hey. Stop. It’s fine. We’re a team, remember? The dynamic duo? Gotta stick together. We’ve got a whole lifetime of dealing with Charlie meltdowns and milestones ahead of us, love. It’s our job and our blessing, for the rest of forever. Don’t feel guilty over one night.” Ashton said softly, squeezing your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. There were those butterflies again, and your skin was almost burning from where his hands had touched you. You simply nodded at his words, before returning to your laptop and the task at hand. Ashton stepped away and quietly began washing the dishes (honestly, is there anything this man didn’t do?) as you began typing again. 

Finally, about twenty minutes later, you hit send on the email to your boss with the completed rewrites, and shut your laptop with a deep sense satisfaction, letting out a triumphant whisper-yell, mindful of the sleeping child down the hallway from you. Ash looked up from where he was sat on the couch, scrolling on his phone, and rushed over to high-five you when he realised that you’d shut your laptop.

“Right. You go shower and I’ll put the kettle on, then it’s one episode of Sons of Anarchy and then off to bed with you.” Ash began, tugging you out of your seat and pushing you towards your bedroom before you could protest.

“Wait… how did you know I was watching Sons of Anarchy?!” You turned and asked, with one hand on the door to your bedroom.

“I was stalking through your Netflix earlier when you were lost in editing land. Plus, I know you can’t resist a charming male lead who has a killer smile and looks damn good in a leather jacket.” Ash chuckled, shooting you a wink and one of those goddamn smiles. 

You hated to admit it, but you felt so much better after your shower, and having Ash pull your feet up over his lap and absentmindedly run his hands softly across your legs from time to time wasn’t exactly bad either. You stuck to your promise of only one episode of Sons of Anarchy, and after pulling your groaning self up off the couch and jokingly half-carrying you to your bedroom door, Ashton bid you goodnight with a hug and a kiss to the forehead before disappearing into your guest room. 

As you settled into your own bed, alone, and pulled the blankets up over you, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have Ash so present with you and with Charlie, and how sweet it would be in the morning to wake up together in the same house and go for breakfast at your favourite little brunch spot down the street, before waiting for James and Alice to return in the early afternoon. It was all your own little family unit, and as you felt yourself being lulled into sleep, you also felt a deep sense of content in your heart about the loved ones in your life. And then also there were those butterflies, just slowly but surely making their presence known, and getting a little bigger every time you thought of Ashton, and how much he loved Charlie, and how much she loved him and you, and how much you loved them both.

Shit. Did you actually love him? Were you falling in love with Ashton Irwin? Before you could panic too much, the need for sleep won out, and you slept peacefully knowing two of your favourite people were also sleeping calmly in the rooms either side of you. 

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

[starkerintheparker]

starker reclist - PWP

What better way to celebrate RDJ’s bday than spreading some pwp love, amirite :D I decided to just share these without the usual commentary because there are only so many ways to praise hot smut and I’m not that well versed in English lol. Some fics are plottier, some are porn with feels, others are unapologetic filth. Suffice to say they are all sublime and top notch wanking material, 10/10 recommend. Please mind the tags and stay safe. Happy meals! 😈

Last updated: April 25th, 2020. All new additions will be marked with ***

• a little bit scandalous by @paspleurer (3k, completed)

Summary: “What do you think about dessert? I’m thinking the creme brulee, but—”

“You could eat my ass,” says Peter. "After you've already come inside of it."

Tony sets the menu down on the table with jarring force.

• A Special Love by @darker-soft-starker (completed) 

Summary: “You know - the thing where I tell you that I’m too old to be kissed on the lips,” Peter answers, reaching out linking their hands together over the gearstick. "Where I tell you none of the other fathers kiss their sons like we do and isn’t it weird?”

Author’s warning: Incest roleplay (no actual incest), semi-public sex, exhibitionism, public foreplay, armour kink, slight incidental daddy kink, nff. 

• Babysitter (AU) by @readysetstarker (5.4k, completed)

Summary: Tony was desperate. Ten minutes before he was supposed to leave for work, brushing his daughter’s hair in the bathroom and promising her a fun day at the zoo with her babysitter (he had already paid for the tickets online, the receipt for them sitting on the counter), he had gotten the call that she wouldn’t be showing up. He needed to be at work to negotiate a deal with investors, they needed him there, but she had been adamant about not showing up and hung up on him mid-plea.

• Ballerina!Peter and Construction worker!Tony (AU) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed) Part 2 is winterironspider

Author’s warnings: mild dub con (super mild, Peter turns out to be a mega-slut and we love it), innocent peter, feminisation, multiple orgasms, rimming, mild cock warming, mild cock-slapping. 

• Berries and Cream by @stfustucky (5k, completed)

Summary: There's no way in hell they're going to fit all the Avengers into two cars, not unless Peter sits on Tony's lap. And there's no way in hell Tony is going to survive the ride all the way back to the tower unless Peter stops squirming like that. Unfortunately for Tony, Peter doesn't seem inclined to sit very still tonight. Whoops.

• Breaking Character (AU) by @cagestark (8k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

• Bruisable and Sweet by @bloomblood (completed)

Summary: Tony has a meal in Peter’s humble, college dormitory bed.

• Captured (AU) by @areluctantsblog (1k, completed)

Summary: In another a universe, reluctant as he may be, Peter Parker has to find out that being Spider-Man inevitably means being a celebrity, too. As far as he’s concerned, the only good thing resulting from this is that from time to time he gets the chance to lay eyes on the fashion industry’s most handsome face, that of photographer Tony Stark’s. When one day Peter is sent on a photo-shoot with the living legend, things take an interesting turn.

• Coming Untouched by @starker-stories (4k, completed)

Summary: 

“So, is it true?”

“Which thing? I presume you stood there, outside the door, eavesdropping on our entire conversation,” Peter said, miffed.

“That you can make yourself come without touching yourself even once during your… session?”’

• Context Clues (A/B/O) by Anonymous (8k, completed) 

Summary: Peter is crying. Those had been FRIDAY's exact words, and the reason Tony had run upstairs and bypassed the privacy lock on the kid's door. Context is kind of everything.

• Desperado (AU) by @starkercrossedlovers (completed) 

Summary:  Desperado Tony come to town and takes Peter with him when he goes.

• Drabbles by @starkerforlife6969 (290k, ongoing)

Summary: These are all starkerforlife6969’s tumblr drabbles/stories in one collection, aside from the Mafia Boss One. Mostly starker, but there will be winterspider and spidershield and spiderstrange.

• Eight Stops (to make you mine) (A/B/O) by @starkerkeyz and @the-mad-starker (9k, completed) 

Summary: He clutches onto the alpha's forearm and gives Tony another nip, harsher with his spiked up desires. "Eight stops," he tells the alpha, "that's all the time we got. Think that's enough…?" They can only have a quickie but Peter thinks it just might be the best sex he's ever going to get. He gives the alpha's cock another squeeze, trying to convince him to say yes. "Plenty." Tony unbuckles Peter's pants one handed, smirking against pale skin. He rubs his stubble into the omega's lightly bitten scent gland just to rile him up.

• From Across the Bar by @readysetstarker (3k, completed)

Summary: Tony took a slow sip and listened to a pair of new broadcasters talk about upcoming sports games and a player’s most recent scandal about steroid use. He couldn’t have cared less, personally, but there was nothing else on and he wasn’t really here to watch television. Not if the cute brunette trying to scope him out without being noticed had anything to say about it. 

• From Thy Bounty by @ibby-writes and feyrelay (30k, completed)

Summary: Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

• Further Assistance by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Besides, it would be unethical not to tell Peter what he saw, right? He’s pretty sure that would violate some sort of boundary. And if the kid wants to go down the path of creative experimentation, it’s kind of Tony’s duty to make sure he does it safely. He basically has to help.

• half doomed and you’re semi sweet by noctiphany (2k, completed) underage

Summary: “Peter,” Tony says, his tone flat, and Peter shudders. “Peter,” Tony says again, impatient and with a hint of threat. “I’m waiting.

• Heal Me by Mezzymet (7k, completed)

Summary: His love for the man probably bordered on hero worship but....you could love someone and not be in love with them. Obviously.

• I could be your whore, Mr. Stark by @stfustucky (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter needs a cover story for his shady behavior as Spidey, and half the school thinks he's an escort anyways, so Peter just leans into the rumors. Tony, being the good friend and teammate that he is, agrees to corroborate the cover story by letting everyone think Peter is his own personal slut. 

• Indulge Me by @learned-foot (370 words, completed)

Summary: Peter likes it best when Mr. Stark is rough and taking. Read it together with Under Someone Else.

• Jealousy is Ugly (Except When It's Not) by @yadds (4k, completed) 

Summary: Peter has a boyfriend. Tony can't stand it. 

• Kinktober 2019 by @readysetstarker (38k, completed)

The whole list is amazing, my personal favorites are the glorious upskirt/semi public sex (ch 6). the  breathtaking mirror sex (ch 7) and the sweet praise kink (ch 9).

• Just a little bit, just enough by @bitter-lemon-water (25k, completed)

Summary: So somewhere in between devastation, uncertainty, fear and disconcertment—Peter settles. Alternatively: Tony pulls. (Peter lets him.) (Peter wants him to.)

• Just Listen to Me by LeafyGreenQueen773 (3k, completed)

Summary: After the spider bite, Peter's senses are “dialed to eleven”. That includes in bed. Peter talks Tony through what feels best to him. 

• Later for later by @unsettledink (15k, completed) sex pollen, top!Peter 

Summary: “You,” Peter says, again, mouthing at Tony's skin. “I want you. I trust you. This is a terrible, terrible idea, Tony knows. The worst. And yeah he's normally all for terrible ideas, but this is… no. (The one where Peter gets hit with a sex drug, and Tony is not prepared for this shit.)

• Me, You & A Tattoo by @starkeristheendgame (4k, completed)

Summary: Peter gets Tony's name tattooed on his ass after a not-bet with MJ. Really, it was just a matter of time before Tony found out.

• Morning (A/B/O) by @starkerstarkerstarker (completed)

Summary: Peter’s breath hitches, eyes on him like he expected him to do more, but when he doesn’t, when all he does is lift a brow, he frowns, his bottom lip pushing out. “If you want something, princess, go ahead.”

• No Control by @paspleurer (500 words, completed)

Summary: Mr. Stark’s conditions are simple— no touching himself, and no talking. And Peter wants to be good, he really does— but his senses make it so hard.

• Paint my Body Gold by @spidey-stuff (14 k, completed)

Summary: Tony is desperate to rid himself of his inappropriate attraction before the last barrier holding him back crumbles as Peter's 18th birthday rapidly approaches.

• Perfect by @learned-foot (639 words, completed)

Summary: There are a lot of things that should make Peter embarrassed right now, starting with the fact that the first time Mr. Stark kissed him—about half an hour ago, though it feels like another world—he came in his pants within seconds.

• Peter in Heat (A/B/O) by @starkerforlife6969 (completed)

Summary:  Peter’s presenting and Tony knows exactly how to take care of him.

• Red Light District series (AU) by @starker-stories (17k, ongoing)

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy who has dozens of women passing through his life and through his bed. What everyone doesn't know is that Tony Stark is deeply closeted, longing for something he can't ever have -- a life and a love with another man.

• Reversal by @learned-foot (4k, completed)

Summary: Sometimes, Tony is the one who needs to be praised.

• Still Use Work by @learned-foot (6.5k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• Sweet for me, my Honeybee by garbagesinboy (10k, completed)

Summary: Peter's got a sweet tooth, and Tony's got a problem. In which Peter Parker consumes way more sugar than the average human ever should, and Tony Stark suffers many many boners.

• Tremolo by @lilsoshie and @marvlouse (4k, completed)

Summary: “You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.” 

“Tony,” Peter says, a complaint, an exhausted plea.

• The Third Idea by @cagestark (12k, completed)

Summary: Tony walks in on Peter jerking off twice in one week, and realizes that his lover needs a little more from him. So he gives him less; a week without cumming should do it.

• This fire is out of control by feyrelay (2k, completed) sex pollen

Summary: There's really not enough room in their hiding spot to fuck, but Peter's temperature is rising from whatever they've been given, and Tony-Well, Tony's determined.

• Once Upon a Time, there was a Sloshed Bunny and a Guilty Man by @starkerchemistry (completed) 

Summary: drunk!Peter dirty talks Tony on the phone. 

• Up to Eleven by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG (15k, completed)

Summary: He watches those five minutes. Watches them again, and again. Tries to tell himself that he’s seeing something other than what FRIDAY is showing him.

• wasn’t built in a day by orphan_account (7k, completed) dubcon

Summary: Peter files “massive hard-on for Tony Stark” under “things I can’t tell Aunt May.” It’s tied at the top of the list with “I’m Spider-Man” and “I’m responsible for Uncle Ben’s death.”

• Weird by tuesday (2k, completed)

Summary: It wasn't weird, okay? A lot of people wanted to have sex with the Iron Man armor. A lot. There were entire forums and Instagram and Twitter accounts dedicated to it. There had been internet wars fought solely over which Mark was the sexiest. There was endless speculation over whether Tony Stark was among their number and whether and how he actually had outfitted one of the armors with the ability to make good on all that sleek, sexy promise.

It wasn't weird.

"It's a little weird," Tony said.

• what’s the point of a clear raincoat with no hood? by CarnivalGoldfish (7k, completed) 

Summary: Tony buys Peter clothes because he likes Peter wearing what he bought him. Peter realizes this is not normal.

*** when the world has dealt its cards by thisismydesignn (3k, completed) underage

Summary: Tony Stark has never claimed to be a role model, let alone a good influence. Case in point...

• You Learn Something New Every Day by @sbiderslut (4k, completed)

Summary: This man looks right at them and remarks, happily unaware of the kiloliter can of worms he just RPG-ed wide open, “The bond between you and Mr. Parker is truly remarkable, Tony. You could practically be father and son.”

• Your Eyes Only by tuesday (4k, completed)

Summary: It was an accident. Tony did not, as a rule, check up on Peter these days, and while he had kept the monitoring programs, they were there in case of emergency.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #338

“i can’t decide if you’re wearing me out, or wearing me well”

Are you a fan of techno? I've gotten more into it lately, actually. I've never minded it. Who’s your favorite horror movie villain/monster? Pyramid Head, though he's called Red Pyramid Thing in the movies. Do you have a favorite muscle car? Nah. I'm not big into cars. What would be a total deal-breaker for you, relationship-wise? You so much as lift your hand at me, bye, motherfucker. Would you consider yourself to be accepting of others? Yes, but not as much as I used to be. There are certain opinions I just don't tolerate in people anymore; I feel like by staying associated with people whose views invalidate or in any way harm others (racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.), you're on the side of evil as well, even if indirectly. However, I genuinely do feel I have a wide range of viewpoints I'm willing to accept in others, even if I don't agree with them. Are you flirtatious? No. I think I'm only capable of flirting with someone I'm already with and very comfortable around. I'd feel way too shy and awkward otherwise. Have you ever just felt "drawn" to someone, but you didn’t know why? "Didn't know why," no. I've felt drawn to people with good reason, like if I was romantically interested in them. Is there anyone you currently want to reach out to? There's a number, honestly. Especially with the aid of therapy, I'm being motivated to strengthen bonds with old friends and/or acquaintances via Facebook. Freddy or Jason? I think Jason is scarier. Freddy tends to come across as cheesy for me. Have stickers or gems on your cell phone? Nah. Ever teased your hair? Bitch I damn well tried in high school because I wanted the ~ l e g i t ~ emo hair, but mine was just too heavy to hold, at least with the hairspray my sister had. Have any friends with benefits? Nah, that's never been my thing. Ever lost of bunch of valuable information? Ummm I don't believe so. I've lost massive RP posts before, but I can't really call those "valuable information." What drinks or food make you hyper? None, really. Most expensive thing you ever bought? With my own money, my snake. She's a champagne morph ball python. What type of toothpaste do you use? Crest. How much time to spend putting on makeup daily? Zero. When listening to a song, what do you listen for (lyrics, bass, beat, ect)? The beat, more than anything else. What is the color of your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. What is your favorite color(s) of eye-makeup? Black. Just black. Are you sexually active? I'm not. Do you have sensitive skin? Very. Are you attracted to several guys atm? I'm actually not attracted to any guys in my personal life atm. How many toilets are in your house? Two. Do you have an older sister? Excluding the one I don't know, I have three older sisters. Favorite song by Owl City? Probably "Hot Air Balloon," but I don't know many at all. What color is your mum’s car? White. Do you truly understand the (LDS) Mormon religion? I don't know what "LDS" means, but as my former best friend developed into a Mormon, I learned some stuff from her in her self-discovery. I don't remember a lot of it, not that I knew all that much in the first place. Where do you keep your kitty litter box? Ugh, Mom's unmovable about it being in my fucking room for some reason. And we have an extra goddamn room no one uses yet. Roman's shit STINKS, like we think something might actually be wrong, but nope, it has to stay in here. e_e It would literally inconvenience nobody if we moved it in the spare room. Are you a lighter complexion than your father? MUCH lighter. He's very tan. Do you like apricots? No. Solid soap bar or liquid body wash? 100% body wash. Bar soap slips so easily, and as someone who lives with another person, I'm not rubbing my body with the same bar my mother uses, no offense to her. Sharing it's just gross. Where do you live (country or state)? Shitty 'ole North Carolina. Do you use plastic, wooden, or wire hangers? I think we have a mix of them, actually. What is your favorite shade of yellow? I only like pastel yellow. Otherwise, it's one of my least favorite colors. Are there any shades of blue that you don’t like? If so, which ones? Ehhh not really. What is something you want to accomplish before you turn 30? God, can I please have a stable career by then. Who has the best decorated house in your town? I don't know. We live in a cul de sac community thing where it's just houses next to houses, so there's a lot to choose from. I don't pay attention to them. What is your favorite part of Halloween? The decorations. Do you feel a connection to the moon? "As above, so below," as the saying goes. What does your heart long for? Peace and contentness with myself. Did you decorate a pumpkin this year? Last year, I didn't. I do want to this year, though, if I can just think of a really good idea. I have to be motivated. What are some fall activities you would do with your kids? I'm not having kids, but I'll follow along, hypothetically. With how much joy Halloween brought me as a kid, I'd want to do SO much as a family with them. Homemade decorations, carving or painting pumpkins together, and hell yeah I'd be taking them trick-or-treating once I felt they were ready and they wanted to. I'd be one of those parents that probably spends too much on whatever costumes they want, haha... Oh, and then besides Halloween, I'd certainly rake leaf piles together for them to jump and play in. This question has brought to mind like ONE thing I could enjoy as a parent, haha. Have you ever seen a fox? I have; besides in a zoo setting, I've seen one or two in the wild run out of sight, and I also found one poor fellow as roadkill that had been disemboweled by I'm assuming vultures. With my whole roadkill photography thing, I literally almost kneeled into a strand of intestines I didn't see at first. :x What color are the squirrels where you live? We only have brown ones. Is there anything about Halloween you find offensive? lol no What do the trees look like where you live? Lots, and lots, and LOTS of pine trees... There are others, but I'm not well-informed on tree species and such. Oh, then of course there are dogwoods (our "state tree"), which are unmistakable because they smell like fucking manure. What is your dream vacation? Maybe the mountains on the western side of NC during the fall... ugh, that would be breathtaking. We actually have an abandoned The Wizard of Oz-themed park around there that allows tours at certain times of the year, and I'd love to visit and photograph there. As well, western NC has the zoo, which would be spectacular to visit with autumn weather and, once again, load up on photos. Did you like field trips when you were a kid? I LOVED field trips. Do you find museums boring or interesting? Very interesting! Would you ever wear a shirt with your country’s flag on it? No. I'm not patriotic enough at all for that. What’s a medicine that makes you sleepy? Historically, larger doses of Klonopin can knock me the fuck out. Do you like bath bombs? Never used one, because I don't do baths. Who are your favorite small YouTubers? I'm going to guesstimate you mean less than 1M subs as "small," because I really don't know what you consider to fit that description. I watch a lot of people with less than 1M, so it's hard to say, but lately it's probably been a let's player John Wolfe. He's really funny. Then there's some tarantula YouTubers, along with the animal educator Emzotic... and really just many others. I think most of the people I watch actually have sub-1M, but more than 500k. Who are your favorite big YouTubers? Markiplier is absolutely, positively #1. I also really enjoy Snake Discovery, GameGrumps, Jeffree Star (don't judge me ok, he's a fuckin hoot), and while I haven't watched them in years, Good Mythical Morning will ALWAYS be deeply, deeeeply embedded in my heart. What was your favorite girl group when you were growing up? Ummm probably the Spice Girls? Have you ever used an outhouse? Ugh, yes, at old childhood sports games. What was the last good cause you donated towards? When I cut off like 8+ inches of hair to accomplish the style I have now, I donated it to Children With Hair Loss. My hair has always been mega-thick and healthy, so why in the world waste it? One of my most cherished items is the certificate I got in return many months later that my donation had been used. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? I haven't had contact with Juan in many years, don't know what Tyler's up to either, and I haven't spoken to Jason since 2017, so. I'm very doubtful he's married or has kids yet, though, just knowing him and how "I need to be fully prepared for this" he is with big life stuff like that. Does it bother you when people get super emotional? Not at all. I'll do my all to comfort them. Have you ever worked in a restaurant? No. Do you get a lot of thunderstorms where you live? Depends on the time of year. Summertime? Brief but super intense thunderstorms every late afternoon. What was the last drive-thru you went through? Taco Bell w/ Mom. Do you know anyone who claims they can see/feel spirits or other supernatural ‘things?’ No. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression, and Mom is also convinced Dad has either depression masked as anger and/or bipolarity, but following the divorce, I don't see it in him at all. He's never seen a doctor in that field to be diagnosed with any mental illness. What fun things are there to do where you live? Jackshit. Do you know anyone with a really poorly-trained dog? Mother of fucking god, yes. My little sister lives with her best friend, and said friend has a colossal black lab named Hudson that is absolutely uncontrollable because she neglects the shit out of him. Won't listen to you even if it saved his life. He jumps on you, barks endlessly, and if he escapes the house? Good fucking luck getting him inside. She has absolutely no right to own a dog with how shitty of an owner she honestly is. When you were growing up, did your family rent or own your home? They owned it. The idiots who were moving in after us accidentally burnt the place to a fucking crisp, and my parents were SO not happy to lose that house because people were dumb enough to place boxes atop the goddamn stove. Do you do meal-prepping? No. Do you know anyone who got preggo less than a year into their relationship? Multiple people, not that that's my business. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember it clearly, other than I was with Jason and his mother was also present. What's the biggest age difference you've ever had in a relationship? That would have been with Juan, but I don't remember exactly how old he was. I just know I was a freshman and him a senior that got held back a year or so in HS. If you could save one animal from ever becoming extinct, what animal would you pick? Probably bees, given how vital they are. Name the coolest thing about one of your grandparents. My maternal grandmother worked at Disney World. I can't remember what her position was, though. Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? If I want a healthy snack, sometimes I'll have a scoop. Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? They need to be loose. Favorite thing you’ve ever painted? This big painting of meerkats grooming on burlap I did in high school. Do you always wear a bra? I question the self-love of anyone who can sleep with a bra on. ;__; Do you normally finish one book before starting another? Oh yes, I can't read more than one at a time. Do you prefer reading books, comic books, manga/graphic novels, magazines, or the newspaper? The normal book. Do you know how to play chess? I don't. Are you watching anything? No, but I do have Manson's "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" on in another tab. What is your blood type? A-. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you and never returned it? Yes. Do you twitch when you're falling asleep? Dude, I more than "twitch." I can just suddenly spaz out and look like I'm seizing for a moment. Another side effect of my nightmare suppressant medication. Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Has anyone ever bought you a ring? My mom has bought me a few, and Jason gave me one for one of our anniversaries. Where was the last place you took a bath/shower, other than your own house? My sister's place. What first attracted you to the last person you kissed? Just how unique and happy that way she is. And her pretty much undying loyalty. Has someone ever taken a pic of you while you were making out with someone? No, considering I wouldn't go that far with someone unless we were alone. Had a crush on someone you thought shared your sexuality, turns out didn’t? Yes. What’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Does it gross you out if a guy has hair on his chest? I personally don't find an excess of it attractive, but it doesn't "gross me out." If they bathe themselves just like everyone else, why should it? Do you think sexuality is a choice or not? It is absolutely not a choice. If it was, I'd assume most people would choose to be straight, given phobias, hatecrimes, etc... I could write an essay on this. Do you like industrial piercings? Yeah. Do you think stretched ears are disgusting? "Disgusting" is, once again, the wrong word. Gauges don't really gross me out - hell, I want tiny ones -, but they can reach a size that, to me, is not visually appealing. Did you watch animated Barbie movies when you were little? I do remember loving Princess and the Pauper as well as the Rapunzel one; my sister was addicted to them. Oh yeah! Then there was the Swan Lake one that she adored, too. We usually watched movies together. Do you like fruit in your cereal? Big No. Do you like raw vegetables? Ugh, no. Do you listen to A Day to Remember? I do! They're on my list of faves. Do you like funnel cake? I actually don't. Have you ever been with someone while they were getting a tattoo? Yuh.

[poeticandors]

So Many Words Part 4

Poe Dameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Poe and Y/N became pen pals after their first meeting when they were younger, and since then, they continued to write letters to each other. Following the letters throughout their lives, we will see just how far these letters go, as well as their relationship.

Warnings: None

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Almost to the end!

I do not own GIF!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

22 Years Old

Dear Poe,

I hope everything is treating you well. I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you when you get to visit again. Our last visit wasn’t long enough ;). Tell Commander Andor I begged you to give you more another leave (tell him I am giving puppy dog eyes right now).

Finals week is here, I’m dreading it so much. I’ve literally studied nonstop and I don’t feel like I’m retaining ANY information at all. I wish you were here to help me study ;).

I can’t believe I’ll be walking in just a few more days. I have NO idea what I’m going to be doing after this. It’s going to be weird not studying and having to get an actual job. 

I miss you every single day you’re not here. But I am so proud of all you’ve accomplished. Never thought I would still be writing letters to you as often as I do. But I wouldn’t change a thing.

Stay safe. 

I love you,

Y/N

~~~~~~

Smiling down at the letter, you fold it up and push it into the envelope before sealing it off. You would be sure to send it as soon as you had a chance to. A small bark is heard, and you glance down to see BeeBee wagging his little nub. 

“Time to eat?” The pup’s ears shot up and he quirks his head to the side before jumping up.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle as you stand up, grabbing the envelope with BeeBee following behind. 

You had gifted Poe with BeeBee a while ago, when he first started his training. The two were thick as thieves— always cuddling together on the couch while you studied. BeeBee would always get upset when Poe left, but the moment he came back it was like he never even left. 

As you poured the food into the bowl, you glanced at a few pictures that were hanging up on your wall. There were a few from when you were really young, like when you, Ben, and Poe went to the zoo. And then there was one of you and Poe at your high school graduation

Then, there were some more recent. There was one of you, Poe, and BeeBee when he was just a puppy, and another of the two of you in front of the Disneyland Castle with your churros. 

So many memories from your childhood, and they only kept growing as you both get older. Never would you have thought that you would end up still writing letters to him, having a shared apartment and dog. 

You smiled.

You were so in love with Poe Dameron.

+++++++

“Dameron! You’ve got some mail.”

Poe glances up as Cassian hands him a few letters, nodding in thanks as his Commander continues to pass out mail. He reads the first one from his father, seeing that he is well and how he hopes that he is staying safe and not getting into any trouble.

He smiles, setting the letter aside before recognizing your handwriting. He opens it up and begins to read as Cassian sits next to him, opening a letter that’s most likely from Jyn. 

“Your sweetheart write you?” 

“Yeah, she said to tell you she’s begging you to give me another leave. Says she is giving you puppy dog eyes right now.”

Cassian chuckles. “So, she doesn’t know you’re dropping by for her graduation, then?”

“Nope. Her parents do, I’ve already talked with them. And my father will be flying out to see her walk, as well.”

“That’ll be nice. Give her my congratulations, will you?” 

“Sure,” he nods as Cassian pats his shoulder before walking off. 

Poe smiles, grabbing the letter and placing it in a box with all the others you’ve written, along with picture you’ve sent of you and BeeBee. 

He would never get tired of seeing your smile.

He knew joining the Air Force meant not being with each other as often, but it didn’t stop your love from growing. Each visit made him realize just how thankful he is to have you in his life. 

It would only be a few more days until you walked, and Poe would be there to witness it— although you didn’t know that. He glances down at the small box he kept with your letters, gently picking it up as he stares at the beautiful ring hanging on a chain inside. 

He knew from the moment he met you that he wanted you in his life for a long time. As your relationship blossomed, he wanted you to be in his life not only as his best friend, but his wife. 

His mother gave him the ring when he was younger, saying that she wanted him to give it to the one person he loved with all his heart. He kept that ring with him every day after she passed, determined to find that one person.

And that person was you. 

Poe smiles— his heart warm and full at the thought of you wearing his mother’s ring. He sets the box away, grabbing a paper and pen as he sits down to write. 

~~~~~~

Sweetheart,

You’re right, our last visit wasn’t long enough. I have a feeling we have PLENTY of time to catch up ;). Commander Andor gives his congratulations on graduating, I think you MIGHT have gotten him to consider letting me take another leave. 

I’ve told you before, sweetheart. You’re going to kick those finals asses. You have nothing to worry about. You are going to be amazing at whatever you . And I am already so proud of you. No matter what, I will be by your side. 

I love you more than anything, sweetheart. And I promise, I’ll see you sooner than you think.

I love you,

Poe

~~~~~~

”Alright, smile!”

Holding up your diploma and a bouquet of flowers you received, you smile widely as your parents and Kes take photos of you. 

You finally did it.

The moment you heard your name being called almost didn’t seem real to you. All your hard work, all the late nights… they finally paid off. You were a graduate.

You were so thankful to be joined with your family and Kes— your loved ones. They cheered so loud for you as you waved to them while grabbing your diploma. You could only imagine how loud Poe would’ve cheered for you. This thought made your heart feel heavy. While you wished that Poe were there, you knew he needed to be where he was at.

“Okay, how about—“

“Just one more!” Your mother calls out, a sly smile on her face.

Shaking your head with a smile, you pose for another picture, when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders. Quickly looking up, you were frozen in place for a mere moment as you stared into the familiar eyes of Poe. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

Your Poe was here.

All of the emotions hit you at once like a wave— relief, exhilaration… they were all there. A choked sob escapes you, and you carefully hand the flowers and your diploma to whoever held their hands to grab them before embracing Poe. 

“Poe!” You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as he spins you around. “I-I can’t believe you’re here!”

“You really think I would miss seeing my girl’s big day?” He chuckles, setting you down.

Your hands are on his cheeks, and you quickly press your lips to his— kissing him fervently. As he pulls you close, you feel him smile against your lips.

Pulling away, you can’t help the smile that forms on your face. “I’m so happy you’re here.” 

“Well… your graduation isn’t the only reason I’m here.” 

Your brows knit together, and before you can ask what he means, Poe reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box.

Your hands are quick to cover your mouth, and you already feel more tears forming as Poe smiles up at you. 

“Y/N… from the moment we first met, I knew I wanted you in my life.” He starts. “From that first summer to us becoming pen pals, to us becoming best friends… then on to more than friends. I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.”

He opens up the box, and you try to hold back a sob.

It was the ring his mother gave him.

You remember him first showing it to you when you were younger. The ring then was hooked on a small chain, ensuring that he took it everywhere with him, and it was then that you realized that he always had it with him. 

Poe told you about that day his mother died, and your heart ached for him. Though full of sorrow, he continued to tell you many happy memories— all the stories of her time in the Air Force, how she always took him to the park close by the airport so they could watch the planes take off. 

Then, he told you about the moment she gave him her ring, telling him to give it to the one person he truly loved— the one he wanted to marry. 

He was giving it to you. 

Poe glances up at you— his gaze nervous and pupils so blown.You had never seen Poe this nervous before, not since your prom night. He’s trying to come up with the words, you can see him trying to rack his brain around just what to say. 

“...Sweetheart, I’ve loved you from that moment by the lake. My love for you continues to grow every single day, and I want to continue showing just how much you mean to me,” he exhales shakily, holding the ring out for you. “Will you allow me to spend every waking day as your husband? To be able to call you my wife and build a happy life together? Y/N… will you marry me?”

There was no hesitation. You quickly nod, tears falling down your cheeks as you pull your hands down. 

“Yes, Poe. Yes! I’ll marry you.”

[klenvs3000]

Camera

Preface:

Throughout this course we have discussed differences in learning, risk, privilege, preparedness, introspection, motivation, art, history, music, science, and technology among other themes. We have covered a whole lot. I have learned that nature interpretation is a hard thing to define as there are diverse ways to “interpret nature” and diverse audiences and approaches required to effectively communicate information in an engaging way. This course has expanded my personal definition of what is considered nature interpretation and the lenses that I have that affect how I see nature and how I may interpret it.

Chapter 1: Click

I am a professional camera. Through me, people can see the world, experience nature and view things that they cannot see with their own eyes. *Click* I choose on what to focus on within the image, the foreground, background, the giant tree, or the tiny ant climbing the bark. *Click* My flash can illuminate darkness and allow people to engage in subjects they cannot access by themselves. *Click* Where their eyes fail, I can show them. *Click* I can show them the night sky passing over while they sleep or go places they cannot travel to, places they will never know without me. *Click*  

“I can show [them] the world, shining shimmering, splendid” – Aladdin

Grasshopper photographed last summer where you can see the patterns and details better than with your eyes. Photo taken by me. 

Chapter 2: Lenses

But do I fully control my focus, the lighting, my settings?  The society I grew up emersed in assembled my pieces and gave me the features, abilities, and limitations I have. Just because I have limitations does not mean I cannot excel or show nature to people, but there are confines to what I am and what I can do. They are also the photographer that decides the lenses that will be placed on me. Will I be able to focus on the tiny ant if the lens in front of me is a long-range telescoping lens? Each lens attached to me covers my built-in lenses and affects and changes how I view and experience the world. The place I was assembled, and the amount of money put into buying all my pieces affects my ability to take a good picture. The number and quality of the lenses used with me affects the outcome. I am also enabled by the same society, without which I would just be metal, glass and plastic.

Every camera is different and every lens changes the camera.

Chapter 3: Shutter

If my shutter is closed when pointed at the sky will I photograph the stars? If the power button is never pushed can I still capture images? There are times where the lenses cause me to not focus and completely miss important views full of meaning and needing to be captured and shared with my audience but there are other times where the shutter is closed and I am completely blind to the scene around me. It continues also after the photo is taken, just because I am turned off or my shutter is over my lens does not mean the world stop perceiving my work. My work continues past the people I directly engage and will exist longer than I will be used. When I turn off, the world’s view of me does not.

Without context you don’t know this rhino is at the Toronto Zoo, how old it is, why it is there, what species it might be etc. Photo taken by me. 

Chapter 4: Use

My work will be viewed out of its original context and I must be careful. A picture is worth 1000 words they say, but it cannot say them all. My photos may be edited after I create them, they may be used by others and they may be used to tell a story I never intended, or they may still depict the original story but be viewed the wrong way. I cannot control how my photos are viewed but I can control what my photos show. I must choose the stories to tell and the images to capture, I must pick my moments and choose my battles because one camera cannot display the world.

The baby beaver my friends and I found in the Arboretum on campus last weekend on our picnic. It is important to keep areas like the Arboretum to preserve habitats and allow humans to interact and view nature. Photo taken by me. 

Chapter 5: Explanation

So, I hope that some of that made sense but if it didn’t, here is where I clarify some things. First, I would like to start by saying that cameras are often a tool I use to engage with and share my passion for nature. Photography is ironically, one of my lenses. Some of my lenses I can change or have chosen, other I cannot. Opening my camera bag, here are the lenses you will see: White:Female:Striaght:Christian:Short:Middle-Class:Canadian:Mississauga:Urban:Family:Vacation:Ocean:Animals:Zoo:Cat:Guelph:Arboretum:Marine&Freshwater-Biology:Ecology:Photography:Two-Year-Relationship:Student-Counsil:Figure-Skater:Gymnast:Coach:Huntsman:Bronte:Pasta:Marvel. Some are descriptors, others are passions, yet others are roles or places that had an impact on who I am. Some will be easy to understand and others are things important for me to include but less obvious unless you know me personally. From my blog, I hope the past posts have given you insight on at least a few of these things as every interpreter brings a little of themselves when displaying their passions. Chapter 3 tried to express my new awareness for how the way I have been raised, what I have been exposed to and my experiences can affect the way I interpret nature as there are some situations that I might walk right past and never notice. For instance I have lived in Canada all my life so to me snow is pretty and there are some times that I stop and appreciate it, but I much rather chat your ear off about liquid water than frozen and I will never have the same experience as someone experiencing snow for the first time. As a nature interpreter, not all of your messages will get across to your audience. I personally like sharing facts when interpreting nature, but there is a good chance my audience will not remember many if any of them. What they will take away is perhaps excitement or new interests to learn more about the topic going forward or maybe one key thing that I said.

This is me. A collection of photos taken by me or my mom. My backyard tree, church retreat center, Kouchibouguac Park, my boyfriend and I in the preservation park, me at the zoo, my spinning wheel basket and Bronte Creek, me skating, and a mushroom foray we did in first year as part of class. 

Chapter 6: Beliefs and Responsibilities

With all the lenses I carry, I now recognize that this impacts me as a nature interpreter. Being equipped with the tools, knowledge, and experience from this course, I do feel a responsibility to use these ideas and interpret nature to the people around me and take this into my future career in some way. Combining my science knowledge from my major, and my knowledge from this course can show me what important messages I can share.

Chapter 7: My blog

Overall in this blog, I haven’t always followed what I think the prompts were getting at. I know this is for a class and marks come from specific places, but sometimes I like sticking to my own photos because I love any opportunity to share them with people or because I know the photos that will help me tell the story I want to tell. Other times, there may have been ways to change a sentence to include more external ideas from the course, but sometimes I think I am able to talk better if I am reacting to what I read instead of incorporating it into my words even if that wasn’t necessarily intended. I hope you enjoyed my style in this blog as it was what felt authentic to me. I am not entirely sure if this blog will continue or not, so maybe see you in the next chapter or maybe we will have another class together in the future or some other reason to interact.

~Thanks for coming to my TED talk (I couldn’t help it).

[pynkhues]

3 7 22!!

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

I answered this one here, but I will say I forever want to write more scenes with just the girls, particularly pre-canon scenes, so I thought I might share a scene from my ridiculously belated prompt-a-thon fill which is 10 times Ruby’s danced, and this scene is about Beth and Ruby while Beth’s in labour with Emma, and Ruby’s pregnant with Harry. 

Below a cut to save your feeds!

-

“I kinda figured we’d just arrange the thing.”

She’s only half serious when she says it, but it’s worth it to see Beth’s head jerk, her eyebrows somewhere up near her forehead even as her cheeks are still flushed red, her chest still heaving.

“You have been watching way too many old romances,” she tells her, amusement thick in her tone, and Ruby shrugs, rocking the baby carrier beside her when Danny starts to whine.

“Please, you’re the one who made us go see Fiddler on the Roof three times at the Revival Theatre. If it wasn’t for that, I’d never even know about the whole matchmaker thing with your people.”

“My people,” Beth scoffs, red creeping up her neck. “Besides, the whole point of Fiddler on the Roof was that he had to learn how to let his daughters choose who they married. That they couldn’t just arrange -  - ah.”

Beth exhales sharply, squirming back into her seat, hands balling, white knuckled at the arms of the chair, and she has to be close, Ruby thinks, dropping her hand to Beth’s back, rubbing soothing circles there as she tries to catch the attention of one of the nurses. They barely seem to even see them though amidst the crowded waiting room, beelining to patients with - - what even is that? A rash? Ruby side eyes the nurse taking the man out of the waiting room, before turning her attention back to Beth.

“What was that whole do you love me song about then, huh?” Ruby says. “Him and his wife had been matched, and those two were in it, y’know?”

“It’s generational. The parents do what they have to so the kids can have it better,” Beth insists, but she hasn’t opened her eyes yet, her eyelashes matted together with her clumping mascara and tears, and Ruby sighs, sitting forwards as best she can with her own pregnant belly in the way. New plan, Ruby tells herself. They are never pregnant at the same time again. One of them needs to run point, and she can’t send Stan out with Kenny and Sara forever.

“Where’s Dean?”

“I called Boland Motors,” Ruby promises. “He wasn’t at his desk, and honestly that new secretary of his is - -”

Well, Ruby thinks a little dryly.

She’s something.

Beth squirms back in her seat, panting a little now, and the contractions really are getting closer together, even if her waters haven’t broken yet. Maybe they’ll have to pop that bag for her – they had to do it with Danny after all –her gaze darts sideways to check on him in his stroller, but he’s fallen asleep again.  

“So, how do you wanna do it?” Ruby asks, keeping her tone light. “We gotta get this thing on paper.”

It’s enough to make Beth twist her neck sideways, to peel open her watery eyes in confusion, and Ruby waits until she has Beth’s full attention before she gestures down to her own swollen belly.

“Stan Junior here is gonna be a catch. I’m just saying. Beth Junior there might want to lock it down.”

Beth’s laugh is strangled between her breathlessness, the pain of her contractions, but god, it’s music to Ruby’s ears.

“Oh, Stan Junior will definitely be a catch,” Beth agrees, the sweat curling her hair at her temples. The contraction seems to pass, and Beth smooths her own hand over her belly, still panting. “Lilies for the wedding?”

Ruby hums in approval, only to pause, squint a little below the bright glare of the hospital fluorescents.

“Wait. Do they get married at a church or a synagogue?”

“Neither,” Beth says, brushing her hair away from her face with a trembling hand, her eyes fixing briefly on Danny, sleeping in his stroller. “I feel like we should get a vacation out of it.”

“Oh, you’re planning a beach wedding now?” Ruby asks with a grin, the thing only faltering when the doors open again but - - no. Just a nurse, brandishing her clipboard. Still no Dean. Typical.

Beth hums, like she hadn’t even noticed, looking back at Ruby, her blue eyes bright, and there’s something that feels like Beth in it again, something warm, impish, as she wrinkles her nose, considering, and Ruby can’t help it, the way it feels like a key that unlocks her.

“White sand, the ocean,” Beth says. “We’d probably need to hire a marquee.”

“And a beach bar,” Ruby agrees, grinning a little when Beth rolls her eyes, waving a hand at her innocuously, before she says:

“Well, that goes without saying.”

And Ruby just laughs at that, sinking back briefly into her hard backed hospital chair (which is one-thousand percent not designed for anyone at all ever) before leaning forwards again, standing up two of her fingers like legs and walking them from one side of her belly to the other, over the arms of the chairs, and up the side of Beth’s twitching belly.

“Miss Boland, before you depart your mother, do you take this little man growing inside me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

It really is magic, Ruby thinks again, the sound of Beth’s laugh. The real one she hears less and less often, the one that makes her throw her head back, her eyes crinkle, the sound a little low, a little husky, the one she knows Dean can never get out of her, and that at least feels like a truth. That Beth is still hers. That she’ll never lose her, not entirely, to Dean, no matter how many photo ops she goes to, no matter how many times she defers to him, no matter how much she dims her light to grow his.

Beth props her own fingers up then, mirroring Ruby’s action and walking them up over the swell of her own belly, meeting Ruby’s fingers in the middle.

“My daughter is running a little late, but I believe I have the permission to speak for her this evening,” Beth says gravely, lowering her voice. “And she says ‘I do’. Now, Mr. Hill, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“He does,” Ruby says, face split in two with a grin. She lets her eyes slip shut and her tone lower in faux-seriousness. “Finally, our two houses united.”

“Well, our husbands’ houses,” Beth says wryly, and Ruby tilts her head, conceding.  

“That’s true. I think ours have been united a lot longer than this.”

She smiles over at Beth affectionately, but it just - - it floors her, the look Beth gives her back. Her eyes wide open, suddenly wet again, pupils darting across Ruby’s face like she’s - - like she’s looking for the lie, and when she doesn’t see it, she tangles her fingers with Ruby’s, quick as she can, mumbling something about a first dance and holds Ruby’s hand tight to her belly, swaying a little – as if to hide the fact that maybe she just wanted to hold her.

To be held.

And Ruby holds her hand back all the tighter.

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I am sure everyone would love me to stop talking about light and using ‘- -’, haha. 

But honestly? I actually don’t know how others perceive my style. Like I’ve said in other posts, I’ve been told my writing is extremely feminine by industry professionals, which I believe translates to being interested in women’s lives and writing fairly descriptively (masculine prose is usually v bare bones ala Raymond Carver and, of course, Hemingway). 

I think some of the characteristics of my writing is that it’s sensory and descriptive, that I like untidy endings, that no relationship is perfect. I think (and hope) I prioritise relationships between women, even with shipper fic, that my sex scenes (again, hopefully, haha) never feel pointless or isolated from the story, and I think I’m pretty good at metaphor, but others might disagree! Who knows! 

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Y’know, I usually don’t? By the time I post something, I’ve usually re-read it so many times I lowkey hate it, haha, and reading it just makes me feel very self-conscious. I can see the machinery of my own writing I suppose. I can see the bits I’m proud of, sure, but I can also see the bits where I got lazy, the places where the pacing isn’t quite right, the parts where I think I’m too heavy-handed. 

That said, I did re-read all of C&C recently as I was building the timeline masterpost I posted about a month ago now, but also building a better story bible for myself to write new stories, and I was really surprised by how much I enjoyed being in that world again as a reader? 

Particularly the last installment I posted of Playing House - ‘Animalia’ (otherwise known as the zoo chapter, haha) - I really, really hated when I posted. I’d had a few set-backs in my original writing professionally at that time, and then I had seen someone make an unkind comment about my fics which just sort of hit a nerve at a bad time. It meant I was extra critical of my own writing, and I loved the story in my head, but felt it wasn’t translating well onto the page. 

I got to a point where I was like - - well, whatever, I don’t want to look at it, and I know people like this ‘verse, so maybe they’ll overlook how crap it is’. I got such a lovely response to it at the time, but I still felt badly about it, and so re-reading it this time, and being like ‘hang on, Past Sophie, you’re an asshole, this is pretty good’ was a nice feeling, haha.

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol 1 #224

Thu Apr 29 2020 [09:11 PM] Bocaj: The luckiest number of all [09:11 PM] Wack'd: knew i shoulda gotten 'spacegods' trademarked

[09:11 PM] maxwellelvis: That's an awesome title [09:11 PM] Wack'd: It's not the actual title it's just the cover copy [09:11 PM] Aleph Null: golden age vibes [09:12 PM] Umbramatic: wack'd, eddy voice: "i hate space gods" [09:12 PM] Wack'd: The actual title is "The Darkfield Illumination", which sounds like a Quatermass knockoff [09:12 PM] Bocaj: Or a really cool band [09:12 PM] maxwellelvis: Or one of those unseen Time War things Russel T. Davies loved putting in his scripts. [09:14 PM] Wack'd:

Doug: Hey, Bill, you can draw, like, animals, right? Lions and monkeys and stuff? Bill: *breaks into a cold sweat* Uh yeah sure

[09:15 PM] maxwellelvis: Why do I get the feeling he modeled for the lion, too? [09:15 PM] Bocaj: Not enough ass [09:16 PM] Wack'd: Oh fuck, is this terrigen? I guess maybe those are...inlions? Inmonkeys?

[09:19 PM] Wack'd: I guess at this point Moon Knight is still appropriate for kids? Also I feel like whoever's poster is riddled with darts is someone I should know...

[09:20 PM] maxwellelvis: It might be a self-portrait? [09:23 PM] Wack'd: Can't find any photos of him looking like that, but I did find a lot of his modern art, and I got to say if you get a chance look him up. Dude's come a long way from "competent comic penciler by 70s standards". Not gonna get off-track by posting a bunch of it but I do have to share his Into the Spider-Verse poster [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Bocaj could attest to that. [09:24 PM] Bocaj: Nice [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Dude penciled "Demon Bear!" [09:24 PM] Bocaj: Yes [09:24 PM] maxwellelvis: Also, noice [09:25 PM] Wack'd: This doesn't really seem like the most efficient way to collect gas, but what do I know, Reed's the scientist

[09:27 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, the Four's powers all start malfunctioning, which given their current activities nearly kills Johnny. Ben is thrilled to find he's developing some fleshy patches where his rocks should be. [09:29 PM] Wack'd: "Elsewhere", some viking-looking dudes are upset their god is dying, and think it's "some treachery from the outside world." [09:30 PM] Aleph Null: they got corona [09:31 PM] Wack'd: The Four take a trip to the North Pole, because the Fortress of Animalitude has been linked to the gas, somehow. [09:32 PM] maxwellelvis: I think we can safely say that Doug Moench has come a long way as well, from this kind of plotting. [09:32 PM] Wack'd: Johnny decides to explore on his own and then naturally his flame dies. And then he's captured by vikings. [09:32 PM] Aleph Null: ...is johnny storm a himbo [09:32 PM] Wack'd: Mad Max vikings, I guess.

[09:33 PM] Umbramatic: this is not jhonny's day [09:33 PM] Bocaj: Mad Maxings [09:33 PM] Wack'd: How do they know that's Johnny? He didn't even bother to make it 4-shaped!

[09:34 PM] Bocaj: Looks like the on off symbol [09:34 PM] Aleph Null: 🎵 “johnny johnny” “yes papa” “getting kidnapped” “no papa” “sending flares” “yes papa”🎵/deadmemes [09:35 PM] Wack'd: Some real Mark Trail pull focus in this first panel--obviously those flowers are much more important than the characters. Also: important viking political drama.

[09:36 PM] Wack'd: Also typing it out I just realized Mark Trail's name is a pun and now I'm angry. [09:36 PM] Umbramatic: ...fuck [09:37 PM] maxwellelvis: Hrolf reminds me of a lot of guest characters on Doctor Who; they tend to either get killed by their evil boss, or take his job after he dies. [09:38 PM] Wack'd: That argument is basically entirely there to set up Wiglif and Hrolf's beef because before any patrolling can get done the Four arrive to rescue Johnny. Fight fight fight [09:39 PM] Wack'd: It's probably been too long between issues for me to say that's for sure, but I feel fairly certain that this is the first time we've seen Sue Looney Tunes someone and I don't know why it doesn't happen more often.

[09:40 PM] Wack'd: Eugh

[09:42 PM] Wack'd: So Reed realizes fighting with their powers like this could get them killed and decides to surrender. [09:43 PM] Aleph Null: @Wack'd boy that’s an unpleasant looking halfway stage! [09:43 PM] maxwellelvis: Yup [09:43 PM] Wack'd: I guess this is, like, a Savage Land for vikings?

[09:44 PM] maxwellelvis: This is the sort of set-up I'd love to see the Doctor in. [09:45 PM] maxwellelvis: They'd just be all over the place looking at everything, probably seemingly just fooling around but spreading the seeds for the climax, y'know, Doctor stuff [09:46 PM] Wack'd: So! The Four meet Korgon, the Blind God of Fire! He shoots eye beams that create the energy that allows this place to run. But he's getting old so his eye beams malfunctions and the energy they produce leaked across the globe. So. Hence the mist. [09:46 PM] maxwellelvis: That's not good. [09:47 PM] Wack'd: I feel like whatever Korgon says next is gonna give Reed an actual hear attack

[09:47 PM] Bocaj: I love how all over the place comics can be [09:47 PM] Bocaj: Wait is that Old Man Cyclops [09:48 PM] Umbramatic: "how's this, Squidward? I made it with my tears." [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Can't be, his eye beams produce heat. [09:48 PM] Bocaj: Some of the times [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Cyclops' only shoot out pure kinetic force. [09:48 PM] maxwellelvis: Havok brings the heat. [09:48 PM] Wack'd: Punches from the punch dimension, yes. [09:48 PM] Bocaj: Sometimes cyclops’ are heat based. He used to be solar powered [09:49 PM] maxwellelvis: He's still solar-powered I thought. It just turns into kinetic energy rather than heat for some reason. [09:49 PM] Wack'd: So! Once upon a time, Korgon was a lowly villager in a viking kingdom who fell in love with a princess. They ran away from home together to elope. [09:50 PM] Wack'd: Then an explosion happened. [09:50 PM] Bocaj: As ya do [09:50 PM] Wack'd: "But why?" "It sounds cool."

[09:51 PM] Bocaj: It does [09:52 PM] Wack'd: Reed compares it to the Tunguska Explosion for some reason. I guess between that, greenhouse gases, heart attacks...Moench is just very invested in grounding this in some kind of reality. [09:52 PM] Wack'd: I wish I knew if he was doing a good job. [09:52 PM] Aleph Null: there’s a hidden viking kingdom [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Is this lost vikings [09:53 PM] maxwellelvis: Did this event leave behind a crater, @Wack'd ? [09:53 PM] Wack'd: We are not told [09:53 PM] maxwellelvis: If it did, then it ain't like Tunguska, Reed. [09:53 PM] Wack'd: I'm guessing he didn't crawl towards the explosion to check! [09:53 PM] Bocaj: Coward [09:54 PM] maxwellelvis: That's the weirdest thing about the Tunguska event; no crater, so whatever it was, it wasn't a meteor impact. [09:55 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, Korgon tries to carry his love back home, but she doesn't survive. He's spared blame for her death because he's blind and they feel sorry for him, but then his eyes start glowing and he gets banished. [09:55 PM] maxwellelvis: So it either burst in the air or it wasn't a meteor. [09:56 PM] Wack'd: He's told he'd been "struck down by the gods as punishment for his forbidden love". [09:57 PM] Bocaj: Those who the gods wish to destroy they first give glowing eyes [09:58 PM] Wack'd: He walks the Earth, find folks who've never heard of his kingdom, and they follow him as a god. Then he uses his laser eyes to make an ice fortress. [09:58 PM] Wack'd: The zoo animals and motorbikes and bed surrounded by TVs came later, I guess? None of that is explained [09:59 PM] Wack'd: I guess sometimes the Vikings leave their ice fortress to go shopping and get exotic pets and just nobody questions it [09:59 PM] Wack'd: In fairness, this Earth has far weirder things than North Pole Vikings [10:00 PM] Bocaj: Yeah [10:01 PM] Umbramatic: way weirder [10:01 PM] Wack'd: God I hope someday these comics get better at talking about disability

[10:02 PM] Bocaj: 😬 [10:02 PM] Wack'd: Anyway, we cliffhanger on Korgon telling our heroes that they have to Fix him or be put to death, which I'm sure we all saw coming [10:02 PM] Bocaj: Nobody ever says please [10:03 PM] Wack'd: Wonder what his plan was if the Four never decided to investigate. Just die, I guess [10:03 PM] Bocaj: Do they have memes in lost Vikings savage land? [10:03 PM] Wack'd: I can't tell if they're supposed to be futuristic or just up-to-date for 1980 [10:04 PM] maxwellelvis: The bikes look futuristic [10:04 PM] Wack'd: Oh, also the end of issue text promises we are getting a very special guest star [10:04 PM] Wack'd: Three guesses and the first two don't count [10:05 PM] Bocaj: Tigra [10:05 PM] maxwellelvis: Gabriel [10:05 PM] Wack'd: ...Thor [10:05 PM] Wack'd: It's vikings guys c'mon [10:05 PM] Bocaj: I would not have guessed