#I REMEMBER TELLING MY FRIEND I HOPE RUBY GETS WORSE I HOPE SHE ABSOLUTELY SHATTERS BC GIRL DEF NEEDS TO GET ALL HER SHIT AIRED OUT

[tequiilasunriise]

Alright get in loser we’re going to binge RWBY Chibi to forget everything that happened this episode ahahahahahaaaaa-

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

with you [chapter 6]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: Not much to say this time around. I just had some extra time since I didn’t have to go to work, so I figured it would be a great time to work on [with you]. Here’s the Violet part that always get me in trouble [but like not really, just from people who think I hate Violet or don’t understand her and whatever, y’know] but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thanks for reading! 

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | Wattpad

---

Violet’s door is shut. 

Clementine makes no move to knock.

Mitch stands beside her, waiting with more patience than she expected. 

Her arms grow heavy, weighed down with dread. During the slow walk here, she thought of several things to say and has yet to settle on a starter. Different scenarios ran through her head, all a jumbled mess.

She hears a sigh. Mitch leans over and knocks on the door. 

They wait.

He knocks again, this time harder. 

Nothing. 

“Shit,” Mitch mutters. “Either she’s not here, or she’s ignoring us.”

Neither option would surprise her. 

“Violet?” Clementine tries, only to be met with more silence. Leaning forward, she presses the side of her head against the door, listening. Everything’s still, and Clementine’s sure the room’s empty. Relief begins eating at her brain, giving excuses of “Well, there’s always tomorrow!”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” she whispers to herself, agreeing with the thoughts, knowing full well that putting this off wouldn’t help the situation tomorrow. 

“I coulda told you that,” Mitch mumbles, knocking again.

Before she can tell him to stop, to suggesting coming back tomorrow morning, footsteps turn her attention down the hall. 

Violet stands alert, her glare fixated on the two of them, arms crossed. It’s enough to send any normal person to hightail it out of there, but Clementine’s not frightened so easily despite the erratic nervous thumping of her heart in her throat. 

“Violet-”

“What the fuck do you two want?”

Violet’s voice- It’s like someone injected ice into Clementine’s veins. 

“I-” Clementine clears her throat. Her voice feels so small, insignificant. She pushes down those anxious feelings, a skill acquired when she was far too young and dealing with tense situations such as this- if not worse- and asks, “Can we talk?”

Violet scoffs. 

“It’s important, Vi-”

“Fuck. Off.” 

Violet moves towards her. A prickle of intimidation dampens her faux confidence once they’re close, face to face. Violet’s glare bores straight into her, but before Clementine can address the situation, Mitch pushes her back and stands in between them. 

“Watch it,” he warns. 

Clementine moves from behind Mitch, saying, “Please, Violet. I just want to talk-”

“I don’t really give a shit what you want.”

“Can you just fucking chill?” snaps Mitch. “She just wants to talk.”

“Can you just go fuck yourself?”

“Excuse me?” Mitch steps closer.

“Don’t,” Clementine warns, grabbing his sleeve. “You’re not helping.” 

He backs off, but not much, keeping his focus on Violet, watching the girl’s every move. 

Clementine tries again, “It won’t take long. It’s about Louis.”

That catches her attention. 

“Can we talk?” Clementine asks again, this time much softer. “Privately?”

“Before that, though,” Mitch holds out his hand. “Give it.”

Violet doesn’t move. 

“I know you have it.”

“That’s not necessary,” Clementine tries. 

“Consider it a precaution.”

The tension between the two as they scowl at each other is suffocating. 

With a sigh, Clementine reaches and pulls out the knife she always carries.

“Here,” she offers it to Mitch. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off Violet, even when he takes the handle. 

“I’m unarmed now,” Clementine says. “Please, Vi…”

She breaks her gaze away from Mitch to look at the floor. 

“Fine.” 

Violet pulls her cleaver out and tosses it down the hallway.  

“You wanna talk?” She shoves her door open, turning to glower at Clementine. “Let’s talk.” 

She walks into the dorm room, straight to her desk, taking the chair and turning it around.

Violet sits facing her, waiting. 

And Clementine’s terrified. 

Not the kind of terrified like when walkers are circling them, or like the terror she feels when someone gets hurt or doesn’t come back on time. This is a terror of facing Violet with the possibility of saying the wrong thing and shattering that little piece of lost hope for their friendship. 

This is her last chance. 

Mitch gives her a firm nod. 

“I’ll be right out here.” 

She knows he says it more to Violet than to her. 

Clementine closes the door behind her. 

They’re alone. 

Fuck.

Where did she even begin?

She can’t bring herself to look at Violet, so she does a quick glance over the room. It’s similar to hers, but with only one bed and nothing to decorate the walls. It’s empty.

“Well?” Violet asks. 

Clementine digs deep inside herself, deciding to be as honest as possible. Beating around the bush, or only scratching the truth never ends well. 

“It’s been two years,” she starts. “Since we’ve actually talked, I mean. I know that you still hate me, and I know that I’ll probably never be able to change that. I just don’t understand why.” She waits for a reaction but gets none. “I mean, I understand why… why this whole thing started but I guess I don’t understand everything. I don’t want to fight with or avoid you anymore. I- ...I really miss you, Vi.” 

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

Clementine bites the inside of her cheek. Breathe in, breathe out. She tries to ignore the absolute loathing that vibrates from the other girl, and she recalls that last time someone looked at her like that.

Eleven-years-old… a poor woman dying in the arms of a man who loved her… the fiery hatred in that single eye…

Fuck. 

She can’t curl in on herself this time.

“Is that really all you have to say?” Violet asks. “You miss me? Fucking really?”

“We used to be friends before everything happened. Remember my first night here?” Clementine asks. “When you came in looking for that pencil box and we talked? And the card game and-”

“I remember,” Violet interrupts, “I remember being grateful to have another girl around to talk to. You said I kicked walker ass. You were so nice, and you listened to everything I had to say. For the first time in a year, I thought I found someone I could care about, even if I didn’t want to admit it. ” 

Violet looks down to the wooden floors. 

“I also remember AJ shooting Marlon. I remember everyone turning against you, ready to throw you both out right then and there. I also remember stopping them. I stood between you and a group of kids ready to tear you apart with nothing but my meat cleaver.”

 Violet leans forward with a burning gaze. 

“You know what else I remember? I remember voting for you to stay. I remember telling them it was bullshit that you had to leave. I remember leaving you out there in the woods and then seeing that boot on your neck and shooting my bow to save your life. I was at your side the entire time, being the only one to defend you, to listen to you!”

“Vi-”

 “I let you back into our school! Despite what everyone said- despite what Louis said, I let you stay because I knew you were our best chance of survival, even though they couldn’t see it.  But, do you know what I remember the most?”

“Violet, I-”

“I remember when the raiders finally got here and the bomb went off. Everything was so fucked. They already had Omar and I saw them knock Aasim out and throw him in the cart, too. But before I could even think, I saw you fall off the balcony... Lilly point her fucking gun right at you. And I stopped her. I tackled her to the ground.”

Violet stands.

“I saved your life.”

Clementine remains still, even as Violet advances towards her, slowly, one step at a time. 

“And I remember looking for you.”

They’re barely a footstep apart now.

“And you just let them take me.”

“That’s not what happened,” Clementine protests.

“Then, what did happen, Clem? Why didn’t you save me?” Violet spits. “Because I have a pretty good idea.”

“What? Vi, I told you, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t have enough time or a clear shot-”

“Bullshit,” Violet says. “Tell me the truth.”

Clementine searches the fury held in Violet’s eyes and finds she can’t speak. She opens her mouth, stuttering. 

Violet leans close, whispering.

“You chose him.”

The words hang in the air between them.

“...What?”

“You chose him,” Violet repeats. “He wanted you gone after AJ shot Marlon. His head was so far up his own ass that he couldn’t... He wanted to leave you out there in those woods to die. He wanted nothing to do with you or AJ. And you still chose him.”

“Vi, what are you talking about?” Clementine asks, baffled. “I- I didn’t just choose him like that, it- everything was so-”

“I was there for you, not him! And you still let them take me! Why? Because Louis batted his eyes at you and said sorry?”

Now an angry warmth spreads through her now, melting the terrifying ice into liquid anger. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The fuck I don’t! You two barely said a word to each other the whole time we prepped-!”

“What? That’s not true-!”

“-and then we play some stupid card game and you’re suddenly putty in his hands? Suddenly you have feelings for him? You decide to play that stupid piano with him instead of preparing for our fucking doom? Like fucking around with him was more important than our lives?”

“That’s not how it went down and you know it!” 

Violet lets out an angry groan, turning around and kicking at her bed frame. “Just admit it, Clem, you let them take me because you cared more about him!”

“Don’t twist it around like that!” Clementine glares. “I tried to save you both! And- and I went with him that night to play piano because I needed some comfort-”

“Pfft-!”

“-and I couldn’t go through the raider attack without seeing if there really was something between us! I had feelings for him before everything with Marlon and I needed to know if he felt the same way. I wasn’t going to have that regret with me! And- and when I saw them grab him, I didn’t stop to think, I just shot. I couldn’t let them take him-”

“Oh, but you were happy to let them take me?”

“No! I saved him but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try to save you or anyone else!”

“Bullshit!”

“Raiders were everywhere and then the walkers came in! I did the best I could to try and protect as many of us as possible!”

“Well, you did a shit job.”

Clementine’s nails bite into her palm as her fists tighten. Her heart is hard in her chest, it’s beat vibrating throughout her entire body. 

“I’m sorry that they got you, Vi, I am. I always will be, but there wasn’t anything I could do except plan to save you. We all risked our lives to go back for you!”

“You should've just left us.”

“How can you say that? You’re here, alive, and at home because of what we did!”

“So? You have no fucking idea what it was like on that ship, Clem. What they did to us.” Violet turns back to face her. “What they did to Minnie. They threatened us with inhumane things like it was nothing- Like we were nothing! Just dogs ready to be mutilated and thrown out if we didn’t sit down and roll over!”

“Then how can you say that I should’ve left you?”

“Because at least I would’ve had Minnie-”

“Violet, you were there when she admitted to killing Sophie! You were there when they tried to cut Louis’ hand off! When they took AJ away! They threatened you! And you still tried to stop me from breaking out! We’d all be dead if I hadn’t done anything and you know it! That wasn’t the Minerva you knew! How could you-”

“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone twice? Someone you loved more than you could ever love yourself? No, you don’t! Minnie never would’ve let them hurt me-”

“You really believe that? After she murdered her own sister?”

“She protected me, told me how to be safe while I was locked up! She stayed beside me for hours while Lilly-” Violet sucks in a short breath, biting her lips and squeezing her eyes shut. “...All you ever did was abandon me when I gave you so much. I never would’ve left you.”

“If that’s the case, then put yourself in my position,” Clementine says, glaring. “If it’d been you with the bow, and you had to try and save both me and Minerva, what would you have done?”

For the first time in several minutes, the room’s quiet.

Clementine steps back to steady herself. “You already know your answer. You would’ve tried to save us both but you also know that you would’ve tried to save her first. I wouldn’t hate you for that.”

“It’s different- I loved Minnie-”

“I loved Louis-”

“You barely knew him!”

“I barely knew you!”

“It’s not the same thing, Clem! You may love him now but you didn’t love him then, so don’t even try and pull that shit with me!”

“Fine,” Clementine crosses her arms tight over her chest. “Fine. Let me ask you this, then: Who would you have saved if it was me or Louis?”

Violet turns her back to her, still shaking with resentment.

“You can’t answer that, can you? Because it wasn’t a choice like that. When you look back on it, it seems like it is… but in the moment, that's not what it is.”

Violet says nothing.

Clementine’s throat is sore, and her chest aches. Frustration wets her eyes. Her head, filled with so many thoughts and so many emotions, feels ready to cave in under the pressure of the room.

“...What do you want me to say?” Clementine whispers.

Violet shakes her head. “There’s nothing you can say. What’s done is done. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change that I thought you cared about me more than you really did.”

“I did- I do care about you, Vi. Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because Louis sent you.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Violet scoffs.

“He didn’t,” Clementine reassures. “I’m here because I want to be. I meant what I said, Vi. I miss you, and I want us to be friends again. I know that’s asking for too much, that you will never forgive me for what happened. But, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Violet. I hate that I can’t just talk to you like I could before. I hate that we can’t play stupid card games together with Louis. I hate seeing you hide away from everyone. We all miss you.”

Violet faces her again with an unreadable expression.

 “Okay, Clem,” she says slowly. “Say I forgive you. Say we work this out and become friends again. We’ll play our stupid card games and have a grand ol’ time.” Violet shrugs her shoulders, weakly motioning to her. “Everything’s all sunshine and rainbows. But, what happens when a new set of raiders come knocking on our doors?” She brushes her bangs out of her face, holding her hand against her head. “What happens when they break in again and I need your help?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“No? It’s not?” Violet gives a dry laugh. “Let me tell you what’ll happen, Clem. I’ll look for you and you won’t be there.”

Clementine closes her eyes and lowers her head. “You- You’re not listening-”

“You’ve made your choice,” says Violet. “And I won’t be hurt again because of it.”

She moves to the window, peering out. Clementine watches her with nothing to say. Truly, what could she say to make Violet understand?

“Most days, I hate him, too.”

“What?” Clementine asks.

“Did he ever tell you what happened? After you knocked Minnie out?” Violet peers over her shoulder at her.

“That you guys jumped into the water before the boat could explode.”

Violet turns back to the window and runs her finger over the glass, smudging it. 

“Minnie was out cold and I couldn’t wake her up. I refused to leave her and Louis refused to let me stay. So, he carried me. I kicked, punched, screamed, scratched, bit… anything I could to get him to put me down. Got him right in the chin a couple of times, made him bleed. And he just wouldn’t let me go. He dragged me out and just… tossed me overboard.”

Violet sighs, pressing her forehead against the glass. 

“Do you know how cold the water was that night?” she asks quietly. “Or how many walkers there were?”

Clementine doesn’t answer.

“…He left Minnie lying there on the boat.” 

Clementine knew that.

Louis confessed it to her one night after one of his nightmares, how they could’ve saved her from the explosion, how he tried so hard to convince Violet to get up but once the boat started rocking, got scared and threw both of them overboard.

What Violet didn’t know- at least, Clementine assumes that she doesn’t know- is that Louis looked back at Minerva, a guilty thought nagging him to bring her, too… only to find that it was too late. 

That woman, the one Louis has nightmares about, got to Minerva first. 

He cried about it until he physically couldn’t anymore.

Even though Louis hated her in those last moments, hated what Minerva had become, he still occasionally wept for the girl he used to know.

“Know what he told me? After we got back?”

Clementine almost doesn’t hear her she’s so quiet.

Violet smiles, actually smiles. “He said he loved me. Called me family.”

Clementine’s lip curls, just a bit, into what could be a smile, as well.

Until Violet says, “I hate that he loves you.”

“...What?”

“It drives me insane, the fact that you love each other. He thinks the world of you, y’know. He never talks about you when he’s with me, but I can just see it on that stupid face of his. He fucking adores you. You and AJ.” She goes quiet. “You’re his family now.”

“He still loves you, Violet.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “He tells me all the time.”

“So, why do you hate him? Because of Minerva?”

“Sometimes… but honestly?”

Clementine risks taking a few steps closer.

“Because now I’m no one’s first choice,” she whispers. “He’d pick you first, always. He proved that after we escaped… after I attacked you. He didn’t even hesitate.”

After the delta ship completely sank and they all regrouped, Violet had lunged at her, knocked her to ground. But, she didn’t stand a chance, not with everyone there. Not even with the knife she’d stolen off of Clementine. 

“I’ve never seen him do that. Even when Marlon threatened you, he hesitated.”

Louis stepped in front of her, shielded her from the distraught girl she once called a friend. They yelled at each other and he was ready to wrestle the knife away from her if words didn’t work.  

Thankfully, it never came to that.

“I’ll always be taken,” Violet’s voice cracks.

It takes the tears spilling over to make Clementine realize she’s actually crying.  Her first instinct is to reach out and grab her, but then Violet turns and glares at her again.

“Violet-”

“You got what you wanted. We talked. I don’t think there’s anything else left to say.”

That’s far from the truth. There’s still so, so much more.

I wish I could take your pain away.

I wish I could have saved you, too.

Louis loves you. Tenn loves you. I love you. We all love you.

We miss you.

You don’t have to be scared.

You don’t have to be alone.

And, of course, the whole reason for this.

Violet, I’m asking Louis to marry me tomorrow.

But, she doesn’t say any of those things.

Instead, she wipes tears off her cheeks.

“I’ll never let anyone take you again, Vi,” she musters up all her confidence. “We’re family.”

“...You need to leave.” Violet turns her back to her one final time. “We’re done.”

She doesn’t want to, hesitating, waiting for Violet to change her mind.

And when she doesn’t, she leaves.

Mitch is there, right next to the door with a sullen expression. There’s no doubt in her mind that he heard nearly every word spoken between them. 

The door closes with a soft click.

 His hand touches her shoulder gently. 

“You okay?”

She shakes her head. 

“It’s late,” she says. “I- ...I think it’s time for bed.”

Mitch nods. With a comforting hand on her shoulder, the two head down the hall.

They stop when there’s an anguished scream and the sound of broken glass. 

Clementine whips around and dashes for Violet’s room.

The door flings open and Violet runs out. She goes in the opposite direction, turning the corner and out of sight.

“Violet!” Clementine calls.

Mitch stops her from going after her.

“She’s probably going to Tenn’s room,” he says. “Best not to get in her way.”

Shit. 

Mitch watches her as she rubs at her tired eyes and pushes all the air out of her lungs in a heavy sigh. She looks over into Violet’s room. The cause of the breaking glass sound is evident on the floor. From here, she can see it’s a framed photo of Violet, Minerva, and Sophie.

“Look,” Mitch says, “I’ll follow her and make sure she gets to Tenn fine, okay?”

She glances up at him and tries to smile. “Thank you.”

He pats her shoulder one last time before going down the hall.

Now, she’s alone in the middle of the hallway with a lump in her throat and an overwhelming desire to be in Louis’ arms. 

---

The lantern lights up the dark dorm in a warm hue. Louis is sitting on their bed, eyes drooping as he attempts to read the book in hand when Clementine comes in. 

“Hey, there you are,” he says with a smile, setting his bookmark in before closing the book. “How was watch?”

“Fine.”

“Anything exciting?”

“Not. Nothing exciting.”

Something’s wrong. Clementine won’t look at him and her voice is raw. Setting the book aside, Louis gets off the bed and approaches her. She keeps her back to him as she takes off her hat and slips off her jacket. He places his hands on her shoulders, lightly turning her around.

“Clem?”

Now that he’s closer, the redness ringing her eyes is much more prominent.

“It wasn’t a great end to the night,” she admits quietly. 

His warm hand grabs hers tenderly. Her chin quivers.

“Hey,” he pulls her closer, only for her to bury herself in his chest and hold onto him for dear life. He holds her tight, running a comforting hand along her back. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

She shakes her head. 

“I talked to Violet,” she murmurs against his skin. “About everything.”

Louis’ eyes widen.

She doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t need her to.

Moments later, the lantern's off and they’re in bed, laying side one another in comfortable silence. Neither can sleep, so Louis grabs her hand to trace the letters of her name on the back, then her palm to make her laugh. 

"That's cheating."

"So?"

"So you lose."

"Oh, so it's only okay when you cheat?" Louis laughs.

She plants a tender kiss on his chin, right where his scar is.

"Yes."

His eyes flutter shut. A grin remains on his lips.

Tomorrow is so close.

“Louis?” She whispers.

“Clementine?”

“I love you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“I love you, too.”

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

2020 SU Fic Sampler - WIP Showcase

So in my continued attempts at distraction, I trawled through my SU fanfic folders, looked at the ol’ endless WIP pile. Figured I’d do a little roundup of some that are in something resembling a decent state. Maybe even see where interest lies and all that, get some attention and validation, you know, all that good stuff one craves. Of course, there’s loads more than this, and I might one day post some things I wrote but never quite managed to finish up, or that got super jossed in ways I couldn’t get myself to work around.

Now, in no particular order, here’s 8 draft snippets totaling almost 6000 words - not very polished, obviously, some quite rough around the edges, some long, some short, some that work better without context than others. But here they are anyway, with an utterly predictable array of focal characters. Any missing segments or my asides/notes in the text are [written like this], because I usually write very non-linearly. Hope you all like mood whiplash! 

P.S. I live for comments.

Like Talking To A Wall, aka Bismuth making friends with the wall, statue, and floor Gems. Early precursors to radicalisation and “I would have liberated everyone”, perhaps. Started as one of my first reactions to the Diamond Days episodes.

“Hey, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime. You’re lucky I’m so supportive,” Mica piped up from up on her arch.

Bismuth laughed. Bittersweet. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Then, with a surprisingly gentle hand pressed to the carvings she’d been so careful about, she added a soft: “I’ll miss you.”

“Chin up! It’s gonna be a lovely off-planet adventure for you,” Granite rumbled from just above her head. “A brand new colony! Think of the sights!”

“You can tell us all about it when we see you again.”

Bismuth leaned back, pressing her whole back against the wall, reluctant to leave, even if a snooty shift supervisor was bound to come around and chase her off soon. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to do that.”

They all knew very well that, as always, when the building was done, it was goodbye. The chances of there being a need for repairs or remodelling - and the exact same bismuths being brought in to do them - were incredibly slim.

But pretending was nice, sometimes.

-

Hey, Steven, think I could get a moment before we leave? I won’t be long.

-

They were right where she’d left them, and the years had done very little to change them. A bit of a patina there, some dust, the tiniest bit of wear on sharper corners.

“Bismuth?” Several familiar voices cried out to her in shocked recognition.

She knew she must look a sight - battle-ready and battle-worn, but armour still gleaming, and with a bearing of one who had been through much and was always ready for more. She felt her back had never been so proud and straight, her shoulders so resolutely set.

“I think,” Bismuth grinned, “you’re gonna start seeing changes around these parts.”

---

One for that favourite Pearletariat/Pearl Solidarity fic sub-genre of mine: Clever Pearls Cleverly Getting Around Badly Worded Orders. A bit of an origin for an as-of-yet unnamed pearl OC, because I sure don’t have enough of those!

In the untold thousands of years of Homeworld and Gemkind, and the hundreds of thousands of commands given to hundreds of thousands of pearls, nobody ever thought to Order a pearl not to think. That would imply a they mattered at all, and who would ever put stock in a pearl’s thoughts? Most Gems weren’t sure pearls could think, anyway. I mean, if they could, all that standing around would be intolerable, wouldn’t it? And imagine not being able to say no to anything, even crushing your own gem - shards, at least I’m not a pearl!

They were, occasionally, when dealing with an owner’s important, private, confidential business, Ordered to forget, or, a bit less esoterically, Ordered never to tell.

And [OWNER] has always been all too eager with the Orders. As if she went to bizarre lengths in her thinking that pearl couldn’t - or wouldn’t? - do anything upon merely being told, let alone by herself. Every little thing, from sweeping up the shards of a broken decorative plate to taking down the minutes of an important meeting [OWNER] was presiding over - (im)pressed upon pearl with the crushing weight of an Order.

But she could still think.

Even when Ordered to wait by the door, freezing her limbs and anchoring her legs to the ground with all the force of a starship mooring mechanism. Even when Ordered into silence for days and planetary rotations on end because [OWNER] had wanted to read an important document without being disturbed and it simply didn’t occur to her to lift it when she was done.

In the wake of the Rebellion and the Renegade Pearl, it only gets worse, and soon enough pearl can barely remember the last time a single movement she made was voluntary.

---

SU Future-era Bismuth and Steven convo I scribbled down in between some of these recent eps - after Growing Pains in particular I think - because Bismuth is the absolute pep talk queen.

“You already said you were sorry for trying to kill me in the Forge, and really, it’s okay, it was all a misunderstanding. Besides, it’s more than a lot of people have done!”

Bismuth blinked at the pinkish sheen around Steven’s cheeks, around the downturned brows - strange trick of the light, that. “Steven, come on. Just listen to me for a minute.”

“Okay,” Steven sighed, and leaned against the railing Bismuth had fixed just that morning.

“Point is, for me, the war had never ended. It wasn’t only yesterday, it was today. It was over for everyone, it seemed, except for me. And getting over that, getting used to that, really seeing that as the truth, not living every day buzzed up with that anticipation of the next battle, just waiting for Homeworld to come down hard on us with whatever new horror they’d come up with… that took a while. And it took help.”

[sudden apparent non-sequitur but It’s An Allegory, Steven.]

“When you make a sword, you can’t make it rigid and unyielding. You can’t just temper it into toughness and hardness and make it unbreakable. It needs to have some give in order to be durable, it needs to be able to bend so as not to shatter on impact. And sure, maybe the first parry or strike wouldn’t be the one to do it, but the tenth, the hundreth, the thousandth? Any time you might just find yourself holding on to a hilt with the jagged remnants of everything, and shards scattered on the ground. And if you’re very lucky, that’ll happen during friendly sparring, not in the heat of battle.”

Steven shrugged without response, and seemed to be shrugging off all the words as well. Back to the direct approach it was, then.

“Now you, Steven,” that at least got a bit more attention, “Sure, you can brawl with the best of ‘em, and you put that gem to damn good use. You’ve got great technique drilled in, too - I’d expect nothing less from one of Pearl’s students. But that’s not how you won, in the end, is it? You never won because you were tough, or strong. You have a diamond in you but you’re not hard at all. Well, except on yourself.”

“In the end all of this was possible because you were soft. Just malleable and pliable enough when it was needed. And that takes guts.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Bismuth put a hand on his shoulder, and even with all the very human growing he’d done, he still seemed to almost disappear in it. “You put yourself out there for others… maybe it’s about time you let them help you.”

---

The next chapter of the His Dark Materials/Daemons AU which I am sooooo painfully late with it’s not even funny anymore. Already posted some excerpts [here] and [here].

“She’s been... away on business, but we’ve sent a zeppelin for her and she’s well on her way back. Hopefully.”

“You have a zeppelin?” Rose was rapidly failing in all her efforts to keep her voice down. 

“Of a sort. We, er, we... stole it.”

“Stole-!”

“Yes, well, stole might be a strong word,” Pearl tapped a finger against her chin. “You see, there was a small decommissioned postal craft left below the southern mail station aërodock that nobody would ever miss, all I had to do was fix it up a bit and-”

Rose blinked. “You fixed a decommissioned zeppelin.”

Pearl waved a hand almost casually. “I had some help, but yes. Svalbard, understandably, is hard to reach with other means of transport, and Bismuth needed to be able to go back and forth.”

“You,” Rose began, awed, “are utterly wasted on bringing me my slippers, I’ll tell you that.”

“Well then, maybe,” Pearl blushed, but there was nothing hesitant about her smirk and the strikingly proud tilt of her head, “maybe you could take them off with a bit more care than kicking them halfway across the room and sending them off under the cabinets and- and then I wouldn’t need to do that at all. And I could fix all the zeppelins in the world.”

-

[more from the super secret backroom rebellion meeting]

“They’re with the Consistorial Court of Discipline, no doubt. Always on the lookout for,” Bismuth grimaced, “heretics. A lot falls under that. A lot of good excuses to snatch someone off the street and do who knows what to them. And they’ve been funneling people there, people vanished by the CCD. Not lacking in test subjects lately.”

“How did you get this? Where?” It was Sapphire, this time. Ruby seemed overwhelmed, and sat clutching her hand desperately as the tiny frog and hare both whispered something to her.

“We traced the funding for all this. It was difficult and deliberately obfuscated, but we managed. A facility like this, an entire operation, cost a pretty amount, you’d assume - and you’d be right. It had to come from somewhere. And whoever was paying for it was likely to want to know what was being done with their investment.”

“So we followed the trail. And it turned out I was… ideally positioned to… to, erm, procure what evidence there was to be found. Because, well...” Pearl trailed off, and lifted one of the stolen report sheets for all to see.

It was as clear as day, the family crest right above the astronomical amount being granted. Four diamonds, neatly arranged.

Neshu’s ears were flat against his mane, and Rose found herself wishing the ground would simply open up and swallow both her and him and the chair that she sat on and he’d tried to duck under.

Bismuth spoke up, grim, every drop of earlier exuberance gone from her. “When the Diamonds look out from the windows of their mansion, they don’t see people. They see tools, toys, and weapons. Nothing else.” She sounded more tired than angry. “It’s just what they’ve always been doing, but writ large.”

---

And then, of course, the Longass PearlRose Fixit because I hate the gag order but at the same time want it gone… slowly and organically. Alternating Rose and Pearl POVs spanning throughout the rebellion era, all sorts of flashbacks and Imagining Things included. At one point they end up attempting to essentially jailbreak Pearl, because Pearl is, as we all know, absolutely the most hardcore. Also thank you SU Movie for confirming all the awful Alexa-flavour fanon/headcanons and giving me an excuse to dive into a bunch of Gems-as-AI tropey stuff, on top of everything. [another previously posted fragment here]

“I don’t want to. I never want to do that to you again.” She stops, takes a breath, reconsiders. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, the trust I just… trampled over. So I want to make sure that it’s not just that, you trusting me not to make the same mistake again, with no reassurance anywhere. I—I want to not be able to. Nobody should be able to do that to you.”

“Nobody should be able to do that to anyone,” Pearl corrects readily.

“You’re right,” Rose smiles, only a bit wry, “as always. My brilliant, brilliant Pearl. What would I do without you?”

“Never get back to the point you were trying to make, I imagine,” Pearl quips with something resembling sauciness, and Rose feels at least some of the weight starting to lift off her.

“Right,” Rose agrees, chastised, and tries to focus. “I just… I’m not sure how, or what I need to do at all. It’s not like there’s much precedent – ownerless pearls are unheard of. Even when their owners get shattered, it’s only ever temporary, and, with such high demand, very brief.”

Pearl nods in agreement, and hums. “Luckily, we’ve seen plenty of unheard of and unspeakable things here.”

[echoes of Scabbard convo]

“I want to know, I want to be certain, that you’re here because you want to be.” 

“So do I.” Pearl responds quietly, letting their fingers entwine.

  [Giving an order not to follow orders doesn’t work, failsafes exist. Then they try a sort of ownership transfer thing, and try to make the new owner Pearl. It doesn’t register, “invalid transfer target”, even when Pearl tries to hack it - some odd gem tool that scans and pokes at her gem - she gets all bummed out because she can’t even reprogram a very basic and modifiable handheld tool/device to recognise a pearl as an actual gem and person. What chance does she have against hearts and minds and an entire ingrained culture of an entire sprawling empire?

“You changed my mind,” says Rose all softly and earnestly.

Have I really? Pearl asks herself but doesn’t let it escape out loud. Still. Step by small step, she admits to herself. Incremental, slow, but persistent work. She can do that. Even as down on herself as she is, she can do that.]

“The… the override.” Pearl breathes out suddenly.

“What?”

“The administrative override - you, or, well... Pink Diamond should be able to trigger it, even without a Rejuvenator. We shouldn’t…” Pearl looks strangely scared now, swallowing small gulps before pushing onwards, hands trembling and fingers knotting together, “w-we shouldn’t need a full reset, really, but. But we can try modifying the owner identification...”

Having to… turn into Pink again (turn back into yourself, you mean, a small voice whispers, who are you trying to fool) doesn’t sit well with her, of course, but. Get a hold of yourself, Pearl certainly has it so much worse in this scenario.

[more here about how they both need to kind of “revert” a bit to try this and it sucks, because no! unpleasant poking of holes in the elaborate fantasy! For the greater good, but still.]

And oh, Pearl looks just about ready to either cry with some strange terror Rose has never seen her display, or dissipate her form on the spot - the small dam of coldly throwing around terms like administrative override activation and owner identification variable providing just enough distance for her to carry on.

“It shouldn’t be too risky if we’re… if you’re careful.”

[Pearl trusts her with everything, her literal entire self - with this thing that is such a blatant violation of her being and her person, that she now wants to turn against itself, using one of the most humiliatingly clearly objectifying aspects of her status as an instrument of her liberation. It is all A Lot.]

Rose remembers, also, with a sting, the way she grumbled and sulked over the gaping pit of guilt in her stomach and refused to even look at the glowing, floating shell Blue was so insistently pushing her towards. She wanted her Pearl back, not whatever White and the others had decided to foist upon her now. Not a pale replacement, nothing they deemed suitable.

-

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

“Come on, Pink,” Blue urges, softly but mercilessly as ever, large hands enveloping Pink almost whole from where they’re planted on her shoulders, “White had her specially made, just for you! And we helped as well - only the best for our Pink. Now it’s up to you to put your finishing touches, as is proper-”

“What for? You’ll just take her away when you feel like it anyway,” she grumbles into her arms, curling up on the floor and resolutely refusing to look even as the glow spreads from the corner of her eye, insistent.

Just as insistent as the awfully familiar little voice. “Please state preferred customisation options.”

“I. Don’t. Care!” But now with a newly noticeable, if strained restraint - not, like her usual, punctuated with a slam of her fist on the floor tiles, perfectly shiny and pink. No, she couldn’t- do something like that again-

“Default setting selected. Please stand by.”

Yellow scoffs and moves to leave. “Come on, Blue. No point to us wasting our time being here if she’s just going to throw one of her tantrums.”

But Blue refuses to leave it at that, and makes sure to cut with parting words, before slinking through the large pink doorway. “I am very disappointed in you, Pink. To act like that, and with White personally making sure you got such a lovely gift even after everything...”

“Waste of good nacre, if you ask me,” Yellow muses from somewhere up above. “At least try not to break this one.” 

The glow intensifies with a hum, and Pink screws her eyes shut and pretends not to see or hear anything. 

By the time she opens them again, the others are gone.

But then there is another presence at her side, hovering just behind, as is proper court protocol. The shuffling of tiny, soft slippers on the polished stone - weren’t pearls supposed to be endlessly, effortlessly quiet?

“Leave me alone,” she preempts quietly. The shuffling moves away.

-

“Please identify yourself.”

Calmly, now, calmly but firmly, just like we planned it. Don’t mess this up now. She’s counting on you. She trusts you. “Pearl.”

“Please state preferred customisation options.”

They’ve discussed this too, of course - extensive (over)preparation and planning down to minutiae is Pearl’s go-to at the best of times, and something she clutches at for comfort at the worst of times. And she’s always, to a sometimes comical extent, despised that ridiculous dress. To a wonderful extent, too, all things considered.

“Revert to last implemented appearance.”

“Settings selected. Please stand by.”

[Of course this doesn’t work because all it does is change the $username$ variable, not the actual identity of the person imprinted: it’s still Rose/Pink, she’s just nicknamed “Pearl” now, but she can still give orders and everything.]

[evolves into Pearl literally hacking herself… the most hardcore of modders]

---

Pearl Playing the Field aka “why not hyper-analyze that one brief shot of the notes and phone numbers in Pearl’s gem and write 9 meet-cutes”. Pearl goes out to “find herself”. Whatever that is supposed to mean. Supposed to be set pre-ASPR, but also extends past it. Ended up with some Bispearl in it too because I am predictable and can absolutely not help myself.

“Your hair is wonderful!” She feels like she almost has to shout to be heard over the din of the bar’s ill-chosen soundtrack, and she doesn’t appreciate it. Definitely not one of her favourite places she’s decided to visit recently. And the ventilation is atrocious.

But still, she’s come all this way, so she may as well make the best of it. And while the preoccupation with hairstyles during first meetings seems like a bit of an odd running theme (can it really be termed a running theme, though, if it’s happened all of two times?), it’s certainly worked in the past (recent, very recent, and hardly bursting with relevant instances, Pearl!). Oh, and this particular one is just too fascinating. Approaching a work of art, Pearl would dare say. Especially, well. Especially when paired with the lovely eyes and striking jawline and strong neck it seems to deliberately be drawing attention to.

Pearl leans on the bar, in the bit of space the woman happily makes for her, and tries to look confident and well-informed, but not smug, no, never smug. “I know... about the, uh, goop, of course. I know how one accomplishes this.”

The woman gives a bemused smile. “Thanks! Not too shabby yourself.” She leans in closer. “I'm actually in school for it.”

“School?” Pearl casts desperately back to what she's heard from Steven and Greg's often hasty instruction. That was for educating human children, wasn't it? She'd put one together for Steven that one time, with desks and a blackboard… and Connie attended one regularly...

“Yeah, kind of a late game career change.” Pearl nods along as she realises - or, rather, remembers - she is absolutely terrible at gauging human ages. “But I thought... after almost 30 years in accounting and not going anywhere I wanted to be going... it’s not like we have all the time in the world, right? So I figured, why not? Go for something I'm actually invested in and that I've always wanted to do, y'know?”

“Oh. Oh yes, yes I do.” And for once, she really does. Well, not the time-related bit, perhaps, but the very particular delight of getting to pursue one’s genuine interests after a long while of being denied? Absolutely. “I’ve done something of the sort myself, actually. Go for it! As they, uh, say.”

The dramatic gesture of almost punching the air with a closed triumphant/defiant fist might have been a tad over the top, but it wins her a smile that doesn’t seem unkind. The woman winks and tips her glass at Pearl, then finishes her drink - something sweet-smelling and almost as colourful as her hair.

“I had a classmate do this one for me, and I did hers after.” Pearl is nodding along again, leaning in to hear better as the woman’s voice dips lower. “I kind of like to experiment, push the limits, go wild with it. Hey. You interested? Promise I won’t go too wild on you.”

Pearl's mind goes blank there for a moment. The woman is… very close, and there are unignorable implications unrelated to hair styling so obvious here even she is picking up on them without issue, and the music hasn’t gotten any quieter. Interested in what, exactly, she wants to ask, but she came here for wild new experiences and exciting novelty, didn’t she, so instead comes out with a rather strangled-sounding: “Eughhhhh...uhhh.... Ye...s?”

The woman’s expression goes serious. “Hey, come on, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

---

Forge Showdown AU - aka in a twist of fate Bismuth poofs Rose during their confrontation and revelations happen that change the course of… well, pretty much everything - one of a bunch of AUs where the PD reveal happens earlier and under different circumstances (I had an idea of doing a 5+1 of those at one point).

The glow of the lava coloured the quickly dissipating smoke more orange-red than pale pink, and Bismuth stared numbly at where their revered leader, Rose Quartz herself, had been standing mere moments ago. She’d lashed out, true, but she hadn’t really been expecting the clumsy blow - more of a warning, or underlining a point in their continued argument-turned-fight - to land. In all their many sparring sessions, Rose had never succumbed to something like that, would have never so much as let it brush against her. But she’d been- frozen, distracted… by what? 

There, scraping softly against the ground as it rolled with leftover momentum...

That was not a rose quartz gem.

Bismuth raked her mind feverishly, thought back through the last few, oddly blurred seconds.

“We’re not using this, Bismuth! It’d make us just as bad as them!”

“No! You’re the one who’s as bad as them- look at you, lording over all of us, thinking it’s your right to command me, order me around, like you’re, what, my diamond?”

It… it had to be some kind of imposter, or spy. Right? Some kind of… awful Homeworld plan, trying to tear the Rebellion apart from the inside. Where was Rose, then? The real one? Captured? Being interrogated somewhere, her whereabouts kept strictly secret to minimise the chance of rescue? Shattered? Impossible, they’d never hear the end of the victorious crowing.

When could it have happened? The last few battles and meetings had been nothing out of the ordinary, and Bismuth couldn’t think of anything odd or off about Rose recently at all. Not a single hint or sign that anything was amiss. Not a single misstep. Homeworld would have trained and conditioned its agents well, but Rose- Rose was singular, and utterly one-of-a-kind, and how could they possibly capture all of it so perfectly-

Bismuth startled out of her thoughts as the beginnings of light seemed to gather in the core of the gem, and all but threw herself onto it, encasing it in a bubble.

Rose was rather special, wasn’t she? And not just in what she said or what she did or how she behaved or what she led and encouraged them to do, but… 

Her endless array of wondrous powers. Her sheer strength, overpowering ruby fusions and quartz battalions alike almost single-handedly. The healing which Bismuth herself had been on the receiving, lifesaving end of countless times. The way she called upon the organic creatures of the planet to fight for her, fighting in their name. And then, her regular absences. The way she seemed to know exactly what the Homeworld troops were up to - that wasn’t just some kind of tactical brilliance.

She dared to look at the gem again. Its hue was changed some by the bubble, but that was still in no way a rose quartz gem. No, it was an altogether different shape, but a terrifyingly familiar one.

But it made no sense!

Bismuth ran a slightly trembling hand down her face.

Pearl. Of course, Pearl would have to know, if anyone. About… whatever this was.

But if this, if she was… her, then Pearl-

Bismuth’s insides twisted in horrible ways as the implications began to flitter through her mind, each one worse than the one before it. There was the old call-and-response ringing in her ears, making her feel disoriented and sick with what had to be the beginnings of anger, could grow into a great fury, leaving her unnecessary breaths ragged: Who do you belong to? Nobody!

But-

Not Pearl, then. At least, not at first. Garnet. Garnet would know, and Garnet could See. They’d get to the bottom of this.

---

A metric ton of rebellion era ficlets, vignettes from my eeeEEeeEEeeEEE Bismuth collection mostly, which I’ve been accumulating since 2016 and have only posted some - Pearl, Rose, Garnet, Bismuth centric, occasionally with my takes on namedropped characters, some of which would now need an update to match actual canon.

Snowflake was there, held in Garnet’s arms. The familiar pattern of white speckles on black skin, the tight silver coils of hair sticking out every which way.

“We got her back. She wanted to see you.”

“Me? And you just listened to her? Are you out of your mind? How can I help? Have you taken her to Rose? If her gem- if she-”

“I’m right here!” Snowflake struggled out of Garnet’s hold, and stood up - wobbly, barely upright, but determined, on those legs that ran circles around Homeworld, and ran interference and messages faster than any Wailing Stone, in a pinch. “And I’m fine!”

“You don’t look fine, Snowy- listen, please just-”

Snowflake walked up to her, not stumbling a single time, and, gritting her teeth, looked right at her. The hairline fractures in her gem were visible from here, and Bismuth couldn’t help a wince. “Snowflake, come on-”

“I didn’t tell them anything.”

Bismuth wanted to clutch her to her chest and scream a thousand things at her, but You don’t have to prove anything to me and I’m proud of you and I’m going to make them pay for ever laying a finger on you all waged a war in her throat.

In the end she just settled on holding her close, very gently, until Garnet left, unheard, and came back with Rose, tears already in abundance.

[Later:] “I never properly thanked you, Garnet. For bringing Snowflake back.”

Garnet shrugged. “It was a group effort.”

-

A familiar voice sounded at the entrance to the Forge. “Now come along, it’s just here. Bismuth? Do you have a moment?”

“You know I always have time for you, Pearl,” she called back, putting her current project away. “What did you nee- oh.”

Bismuth blinked.

“Uh... wow,” was the only thing she could manage as pearl after pearl filed into her Forge, soon taking up most of the space around the anvil in impressively neat rows. “New recruits? A whole bunch of you, too.”

“Yes, well,” Pearl made her way to the front of the group, carefully avoiding brushing against the others on her way. She was fidgeting again, long fingers tangling and untangling rapidly, and that was one sure sign of mounting distress. “Garnet and I had planned out an attack on one of Blue Diamond’s supply lines. There was supposed to be a shipment of weapons coming in today, but it turns out it was… pearls.” 

There was something rather off about Pearl’s tone, too. Bismuth made a note to ask later, and do her best to catch her alone.

“Well, all the better for us. Nice to have you all on board.” Her jovial tone was only slightly forced - the pearls all looked like they clearly needed something resembling friendliness, but their skittishness was palpable. She turned towards a pale green pearl right at the front of the group. “Now, what do I call you?”

There was nothing but mild confusion, vague fear, and general quiet shuffling. “No ideas yet? Don’t worry about it! There’s plenty of time to decide and find something that fits.”

[she does indeed manage to talk to Pearl alone, later]

“What’s the real problem, Pearl? You can’t fool me. I can tell something’s wrong.” 

The rather flimsy front finally crumbled at that.

“I just… we- we took out the citrines they’d sent with the shuttle, and Garnet boosted me up so I could force the hatch open and I did, but then...” Pearl let out a distressed little half-sigh half-sob, one hand gesturing weakly. “They were all looking at me so wide-eyed and...”

She took a moment to at least attempt to collect herself.

“I don’t mind having them here, it’s not that at all. It’s just that… we were standing there, with all these newly-made pearls and… obviously I couldn’t just leave them there, in the middle of nowhere! And after what we did, whoever found them, they’d just have them shattered. Because of me. They were compromised. You’ve heard what they do now, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. They’re the monsters, Pearl, and it’s not on you. It’s not you doing that to pearls, it’s them.”

“But it is on me! It quite literally is because of me, because of what I did, and continue to do. I made myself visible and played at being important and look what it got us,” Pearl was near tears, a frustrated blue colouring her face, “a handful of runaways and the rest being treated worse than ever.” 

The tears were out in full force after that, and Bismuth put an arm around Pearl’s shaking shoulders. “Hey, hey, none of that.”

“We ended up taking them with us, but it feels like… it feels like I forced them to come here. Is it really any better than what Homeworld does? All I did was say you’re going to be rebels instead of you’re going to serve and they never got a say in anything.”

“Have you asked them?”

“They don’t know what-”

“Hey. Just ask them, okay? Ask them what they want. We can help them either way. Of course I’d love them to stay. But it’s not up to me, and if they want to go to wherever it was they were supposed to go- we can do that, too.”

-

[Rose discovers her healing tears in a dramatic fashion - they come up with the idea to make the fountain - and thanks to Save the Light we have a pretty good idea of who lovingly made all those statues]

She gently wiped away some of the chiselling dust with the flat of her thumb, just like a tear. A magnificent, healing, life-giving tear.

This was familiar work. But with none of the endless chafing, none of the hated reminders of her former station - Bismuth couldn’t find anything in herself but reverence. And… inspiration. She was a Gem, stars knew she didn’t need rest, breaks, anything of the sort, but still - this pace wasn’t something she’d felt driven to in a long, long while. All day under the burning summer sun, and every night under the light of her own gem. All alone, as the sanctuary took form under her hands.

To get the curls just right, tiny detail by tiny detail, somehow communicate the softness of those cheeks in stone… it took drawing upon the very depths of her well of skill, because how else could she ever hope to capture the likeness of someone as extraordinary as Rose Quartz?

With small, careful movements, she formed the roundness of the lips that could spit fiery words of rebellion, inspire like no other, scowl fiercely in the heat of battle, smile contagiously, bellow out an outrageous fireside guffaw, murmur comforts so softly, kiss…

And then she did it again, and again, and again.

[in the end, Rose is presented with a veritable shrine to herself]

“Rose? Is something wrong? You… don’t like it?”

“No, no, Bismuth, it’s… it’s incredible.” The smile Rose turned on her was as beautiful as anything, but it wasn’t hard to notice it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

[itsclydebitches]

Can we please have more of Uncle Oz? That prompt was beautiful and my little heart needs more. Specifically why Oz slept on the couch before as Yang mention it has happened in the past. *puppy eyes*

Okay, okay, I’m an IDIOT who doesn’t remember her own writing. Because my fool brain ended up writing about Qrow sleeping on the couch instead, for undetermined reasons. Will I ever successfully answer a prompt? Will Qrow and Oz ever end up in the same drabble together again? Stay tuned to find out! 

(Prompt list is here) 

Tai took two steps into Ozpin’s latest apartment, saw the quilt lying haphazardly over the couch, and had the distinct urge to walk back out again.

“What did he do this time?” he sighed.

Ozpin’s lips thinned. He cast his own look at the messy pile of pillow and blankets, seeming to project an unwarranted amount of disdain at the poor, innocent fabrics. They wouldn’t be the first inanimate objects to take the brunt of Ozpin’s emotions. In lieu of people—and very much to their benefit—Ozpin tended to take his rare anger out on the trees of Forever Fall Forest; the occasional dish that gave a satisfying shatter. Those moments truly were rare though. More often than not Tai simply found piles of methodically torn up paper on Ozpin’s desk.

Right now the sleeve of his sweater was slowly coming undone, the loose thread rolled, rolled, rolled between two fingers. Yep.

“Don’t even try it,” Tai said, gesturing at the weak smile Ozpin had just conjured out of will alone. “If you tell me not to worry, say it’s nothing, or worse, start going on about how I came here for a nice visit? I will take this umbrella and shove it straight up your ass.”

“Hardly the best way to start our evening together.” This time the twitch of his lips was genuine. Ozpin swept aside to let Tai through, arm falling in a graceful arc to indicate the umbrella stand and a small mat for his shoes. “Truly though, you didn’t come here to—”

“Finish that sentence, Oz. I dare you.” Tai shook the umbrella and a thousand water droplets scattered across the floor.

“Oh for dust’s sake. You’re as stubborn as he is,” and with a huff Ozpin turned on his heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

Hmm. That didn’t bode well.

A lack of reprimand for getting water all over his entryway? Check.

Insulting his guest—because yes, any comparison to Qrow was an automatic insult in this family—right when they’d arrived? Check.

Visible frustration, petulant attitude, further faux pas by abandoning Tai to his own devices? Check, check, check. Tai cast a longing look at the door and kicked off his shoes.

“Formal announcement,” he said, wandering into the kitchen to find Oz slamming milk onto the counter. “I would like to remind everyone here,” Tai gestured to an invisible audience, “that I am not even related to you. Not technically. Not since I dumped Raven’s fine ass. And yet here I am, the best of fake brother in laws, here to be your shoulder to cry on. Metaphorically. Because I just bought this shirt and I’m not prepared to find out what two-thousand year old tears might do to it.”

The look Ozpin cast him could have melted iron. “Are you going to be like this all night?”

“Until you tell me what happened? Absolutely.”

“Very well. That shirt is horrendous though. By the way.”

“Thank you. Wore it special for this visit. Oh, extra marshmallows in mine. Don’t be stingy, old man.”

Ozpin agreed with a roll of his eyes, plopping said marshmallows into two mugs as the milk began to steam. He’d said once that only fools put the marshmallows in last. Pouring cocoa over them ensured the perfect, almost-melted-but-not-quite consistency for scooping up with a spoon. Tai had said he was crazy and had said spoon chucked at his head.

The cocoa was very good though.

“I can hear it buzzing,” Tai said, taking a seat at the counter. With speed worthy of a huntsmen Oz had his scroll out and tucked away in a drawer. Neither he nor Qrow had much time to cook, so their kitchen had the sort of aesthetic perfection usually only found in domestic magazines. Tai ran his finger over the absurdly clean marble top, tracing a line from mug to salt shaker. “You ever going to answer him?”

Ozpin pulled up a stool directly beside Tai, their knees now pressed together. Need for physical contact? Check.

“My silence is answer enough.”

“Oz.”

“He—”

Ozpin cut himself off and all at once the wind went right out of Tai’s sails. Oh. No more jabs or check-lists then. That expression wasn’t something to trifle with. He…

Well. Let’s just say the last time Ozpin looked like that he’d had the name ‘Summer’ on his lips. Dejection of that sort—pulling at an intrinsically optimistic nature—only ever meant someone’s death.

The mug of cocoa slammed down on the counter. “Qrow’s dead?”

“Tai.”

“Right, right, sorry. Stupid, knee-jerk question. So he…?”

“Almost died, yes.” Ozpin delivered the news without a trace of emotion. Not to the casual observer, at least. “Of course, he’d never admit as much to himself. Let alone to me. Oh no, the man will go to his grave—literally!—insisting that he’s never made an impulsive decision in his life. Not on the battlefield, anyhow.” His own mug was snatched up and half the chocolate poured down his throat. “I married a fool.”

Been there, Tai almost said, but bit his lip at just the last moment. Right. Serious conversation now. It was just hard when he could so clearly see the picture spread out before him. He hadn’t visited last week because Qrow and Oz were out on a mission, the sort of thing that wasn’t secret exactly, but played close between them for Tai’s own peace of mind. They had to have encountered grimm because Ozpin would have been on a warpath if any humans or faunus had gotten between them. So maybe Qrow took on too many. Or, as Oz said, played the over confident fool. Maybe he was just careless.

…or maybe, based on how Oz was rubbing at his shoulder, Qrow had taken a hit meant for him.

“How bad is it?”

The question came out a whisper, but you’d have thought Tai shouted it with the way Ozpin jerked. Right. Pretty unused to having other people read him so easily—or at all. Tai would have liked to rib him on it. Only problem was, Oz was only transparent like this when something was well and truly bothering him.

Damn his own, kind nature. Tai was a freaking saint and everyone was going to realize it one of these days. He should really get some sort of medal.

Ozpin, meanwhile, had deliberately moved his hands back to his mug and carefully re-schooled his features. They might as well have been discussing budget reports.

“He dodged it,” Ozpin said, each word clipped and a little bit fragile. “Barely. After pushing me out of the way, of course. You’d think two thousand years of training would keep me from making an initiate’s mistake, hmm?”

“You’d think two thousand years of training would have taught you the lesson you’re always pushing on us.”

“Which is?”

“No one’s perfect, Oz.”

A curl of his lip and two taps against porcelain. It said, I should be.

“I don’t care about perfection.” Liar. “But I do care if my mistakes endanger others. More pressingly, given that it’s clear I will continue to make mistakes, I care greatly when others wish to take on my consequences when there is absolutely no need.”

Tai forced himself to swallow down another sigh. Oh, they all knew that speech well now. The problem with befriending an immortal was that he believed, with every fiber of his being, that he was meant to take the hit. Always.

Tai also knew damn well that he wouldn’t be the guy to talk Oz out of that. That particular honor went to the man currently banished to the couch.

Funny the irony there. And by ‘funny’ Tai meant ‘Not at all what the absolute fuck, Ozpin.’

“What I’m hearing,” he said slowly. “Is that you’re punishing Qrow for doing—wait for it—this absolutely horrible thing called loving you.”

Ozpin scowled. “You know very well it’s more complicated than—”

“Get over it.”

Ozpin blinked.

“Everything’s complicated for you. Everything is always going to be complicated. So for just this one thing get over it and accept that Qrow loves you. That loving you might include dying for you. I sure as hell hope not, but if you don’t allow him that then you’re gonna reach a point where he’s not even sleeping on the couch anymore.”  

Impassioned speeches, thy name is not Tiayang Xiao-Long. He’d tried though. With good reason. Ozpin was staring at the countertop now, one foot lightly bobbing over the rung of his stool. A bit of his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth. That was something.

Oh, Tai was under no illusions that he’d change someone like Ozpin so easily. But for now? That lack of pushback was just enough.

Finally Ozpin raised his head. He moved it in what might have been Remnant’s smallest, most terrified nod.

Or maybe Tai was just finding what he wanted to see.

“You want to see Ruby’s latest drawing?” he asked, tapping the space above his heart. Pure coincidence that his girls’ artwork happened to be tucked in the pocket there. “She’s got some pretty awesome ideas about what the grimm must look like.”

Ozpin’s eyes shown. “But of course. Although… perhaps we should wait for Qrow?”

Just like that. Smooth it over. Tai was good at that, though he had no illusions that he’d never again walk in to see Qrow’s pillow stuffed onto one end of that couch. Dust only knew how Oz would react the next time he tried to play hero… or whether Tai would ever be allowed to die for him as he would any other friend. That might be too much to ask him for.

Remember he’s different, Tai thought. Every victory is so much larger when it’s with Oz. You’ve just gotta remember that.

Tai lifted his mug in a toast. “Sounds like a plan.”

The cocoa was cold now. Tai decided to focus on the sweetness instead.

[wistfulcynic]

Four Christmases: The Second

Part 2 of my @cssecretsanta2k18 gift for @imharryaf! I was beyond excited that you seemed to enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! This is genuinely one of my favourite things I’ve written, so thank you for being such a fantastic inspiration! It’s also definitely the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written, but if you can’t have fluff at Christmas, when can you? 

Summary: When Emma Swan first meets Killian Jones at her sister’s Christmas party, she is not impressed. Over the course of the four Christmases they spend in each other’s company, Killian does his best to change her mind.

Rating: T+ for language and some naughty thoughts.

On AO3: The First | The Second  

The Second: 

“Emma!” Mary Margaret shouted through her sister’s bedroom door. “Hurry up, we’re going to be late!” 

Emma slowly twisted a lock of hair around the barrel of her curling iron, forcing herself not to move faster. They weren’t late, she wanted to point out, if they left now they’d be far too early. She and Mary Margaret were having dinner with David and his mother, who had just moved to Storybrooke to be close to her son and had settled down in a lovely cottage not far from the sea. The evening promised to be warm and loving and Christmassy and already Emma could feel an uncomfortable itch between her shoulder blades at the prospect. Cosy family dinners were one hundred percent not her thing and she didn’t intend to allow this one to last a single second longer than politeness required. 

Twenty minutes later (she hadn’t dared stall any longer for fear Mary Margaret’s head would explode) they were in the car and on their way. 

“So who’s going to be at this thing, anyway?” Emma grumbled. 

“Just David and his mom, and Ruby and Granny and Belle. And Dad, of course. Oh, and Killian.” 

“Killian?” Emma’s voice rose to a squeak as she said his name, and she wanted to kick herself. 

She also wanted to fling herself from the moving car and flee back to the safety of her apartment, high heels and thin leather jacket be damned. Anything would be better than an entire evening spent in the company of Killian Jones, whose blue eyes and wicked smile had crept unbidden into her thoughts far too often over the past year, and into her dreams in ways that had her jerking awake in the middle of the night, sweating and breathless and aching. She had spent far too much time trying to reconcile the asshole who’d tried to fuck her ten seconds after meeting her —ten seconds after he had been in the actual process of fucking someone else— and the almost… gentlemanly?.. man with a deep sadness behind his eyes who had kissed her hand at the door, and whose body her body was insanely attracted to. 

“Yeah, David actually managed to convince him to take some time off, so he’ll be here until the day after Christmas,” said Mary Margaret, blissfully unaware of the turmoil of her sister’s thoughts. “David is so excited.” 

Emma was not excited. She wasn’t. That little flutter in her belly was revulsion. It wasn’t anticipation. It wasn’t eagerness to see him again. 

Damn it, it wasn’t. 

She was suddenly very glad she’d chosen to wear her new dress. The deep burgundy velvet hugged her curves and set off her pale skin and green eyes beautifully. It had long sleeves and an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline that framed her cleavage in a highly satisfactory way. Mary Margaret naturally thought it was too sexy for a family Christmas dinner, but Emma was grateful for every ounce of sexy she could manage. She needed Killian to be on his back foot a little bit—if he was fully in control of his faculties she wasn’t certain she’d be able to hold him at bay. 

And if she had to suffer in his company then he was damned well going to suffer in hers. 

As they turned into the long driveway to David’s mother’s house, both sisters breathed a small sigh of wonder. Ruth had gone all out with the Christmas decorations, and although she normally didn’t care for that sort of thing Emma had to admit that the effect was magical. Fairy lights twinkled through the hedges that lined the driveway and around all the edges of the house, and outlined the shapes of the pretty pine trees in front of it, which were also decked out with tinsel and bright red and gold ornaments. Combined with the gently falling snow and the ornate wreath on the door, the small, cosy house resembled  a winter wonderland from a fairy tale. 

Mary Margaret rang the bell and abruptly the sisters were engulfed in a flurry of hugs and fuzzy sweaters and offers of eggnog. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to try it, Emma?” asked Ruth for the third time as she bustled them into the living room. “It’s an old family recipe.” 

“No, thanks,” replied Emma with a forced smile, suppressing a shudder at the very idea of raw eggs mixed with cream. No amount of brandy could make that not disgusting. 

Hot chocolate with rum, on the other hand…

“Well, you must have something to drink,” said Ruth, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of something just over Emma’s shoulder. “Ah, perfect. How about some hot chocolate, Emma?”

Emma’s smile was genuine this time. “You read my mind,” she said. 

As if by magic, a mug appeared in front of her, piled high with whipped cream and sprinkled liberally with cinnamon. And also— she breathed deeply, taking in the aroma. Was that…

“I put a tot of rum in there as well, lass,” rumbled a low voice in her ear. “I thought you might need it.” 

Emma turned to find the bright blue eyes of Killian Jones way, way too close to hers and twinkling merrily, his smile warm and friendly and without a hint of innuendo. Her heart leapt and then began to gallop, and she blurted out the first words that came into her head in a desperate attempt to conceal her reaction to his sudden presence. 

“How did you know?”

“Know what, love?”

“That I like rum in my hot chocolate. And cinnamon on the top.”

“Dave told me about the cinnamon. The rum I guessed.” His expression shifted slightly. “Perhaps I hoped.”

“H-hoped? Why?” There was that breathlessness again. She wished he would back the fuck off so she could breathe. 

“Because it’s my favourite, though I’ve never tried it in hot chocolate before.” He tilted his head at her mug, raising an eyebrow. “May I?”  She nodded, and he wrapped his hand around hers, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a long sip. Whipped cream clung to his upper lip and a spark of flirtatiousness glinted in his eye (finally) as he licked it off. “It’s good,” he said.  

Emma’s whole body was tingling, and the room had become much too warm. She wished he would stop being so damned attractive when she wasn’t even sure if she didn’t still hate him. 

Steeling herself against her stupid body’s reaction to him, she smiled tightly and raised her mug in a small salute. “Well, thanks,” she said, then turned away. 

“Swan, wait!”

Emma didn’t want to wait. She wanted to get away, to find someone to talk to who wasn’t so confusing. Yet somehow, her feet stopped moving and she turned back. 

“What?” she snapped. 

He seemed unfazed by her curt manner. “You have cinnamon on your nose,” he said. 

“Oh. Thanks.” She rubbed at her nose, and made to leave again. 

“No— you missed it. Here.” He put one hand on her shoulder to steady her, then with the other tilted her chin up so her face was in the light. His fingers cupped her cheek as he rubbed his thumb across the tip of her nose. She drew in a sharp breath, and when she dared to catch his gaze she saw that his expression was slightly dazed, the smile slowly sliding off his face and being replaced by a dark intensity as the moment drew out.  

He looked like he wanted to kiss her, and dammit she wanted that too, to kiss him right here in front of her sister and their friends and the spirit of Christmas itself. She hated how much she wanted him when she knew, from her own experience, what a douche he could be. Would she never learn to stay away from this kind of man? 

To her relief —or was it regret?— the tense moment was shattered by David’s voice calling from the other side of the room. 

“Killian! Come tell Mary Margaret’s dad about that time we lost Will’s keys at the bottom of the Serpentine.” 

Killian blinked rapidly and took a step back, his hands falling away from her body. She shivered, missing their warmth. 

He attempted another smile, though his eyes were still blazing hot and he looked oddly troubled. “There you go, Swan,” he said, in a voice that wasn’t quite steady, “all cinnamon free.” He stared at her for another few seconds, looking like he wished he could say more, then nodded at her and headed for where David was sitting with Mary Margaret and Ruby and her own father. 

She definitely didn’t need to be sitting next to her dad in her current state. 

Emma retreated to the kitchen where she closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a minute before sitting down at the table and drinking her hot chocolate. 

It was perfect, the proportions of rum and cream and cinnamon just right. 

Damn him. 

🎄 🎄  🎄  🎄  🎄  

Killian was glad the story David wanted him to tell was one he’d told so often he could recite it in his sleep, because his blood was still thundering in his ears and he was struggling to think of anything other than Emma in that dress. Over the past year he’d very nearly managed to convince himself that he couldn’t possibly have been as attracted to her as he remembered. He’d been drinking a lot that night, after all, and much of the evening was hazy. 

But one thing persisted, despite his best efforts, in standing out absolutely crystal clear in his mind, and that was Emma and her eyes and her hair and her face and how damned much he had wanted to touch her. Seeing her again through sober eyes he realised that his memories had in fact not been accurate—the attraction was far stronger than he recalled. That she clearly wanted him too, though equally clearly didn’t want to want him, made things somehow both better and worse. The look in her eyes a moment ago when he’d wiped the cinnamon from her nose had nearly broken his resolve. 

No flirting, he reminded himself. No innuendo, no sex. Nothing to put her on the defensive or make her take refuge behind those walls. He’d spent three hundred and sixty five days thinking about how to handle the situation when he saw her again, and he’d be damned if he lost his focus now, so close to the goal. Killian intended to get Emma Swan to like him or die in the attempt. He just had to remember that. 

🎄 🎄  🎄  🎄  🎄  

Dinner turned out to be not nearly as bad as Emma feared. She sat between her dad and Ruby, with Granny across from her and Belle to Granny’s left. Killian was on Belle’s left, putting him far enough from Emma that she could easily avoid looking at him. 

She didn’t avoid it, but she could have. She could stop sneaking glances at him any time she wanted. She could. The problem was that Killian wasn’t just good to look at but actually really interesting. And her dad was interested. 

“Tell me more about what you do, Killian,” said Leopold, as he passed Emma the potatoes. Her eyes flew to her father’s face, wondering if he had somehow sensed how curious she was on this topic and was doing some investigating for her, but he simply looked like his usual kind self, accepting the gravy from Ruth and smiling at Killian. “Marine salvage, you said it was?”

“That’s right,” said Killian. “Basically I have a ship and a crew and we go in search of wrecks with salvageable goods still aboard. We recover the goods and anything else we find, then we claim a reward based on the value of what we recover.” 

Modern piracy, thought Emma. I get it now. 

“And that’s time-sensitive?” she found herself asking.

Killian turned to look at her, clearly surprised she had spoken.“I beg your pardon?”

Emma tried to shrug, to be casual, but she felt uncomfortably like she was laying herself bare with the question. “Last year, you told me that your work was time sensitive…” she  trailed off, blushing. Why the fuck was she blushing. 

Gathering her courage, she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes warm. “Good of you to remember, Swan,” he said. “It’s time sensitive in the sense that winds and tides and weather can have a major impact on how accessible a wreck is, so when the conditions are favourable you have to get on it right away before they change.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that there were enough shipwrecks these days to keep you in business,” remarked Leopold, fortunately not seeming to notice his younger daughter’s confusion. 

“Oh, we don’t just salvage recent wrecks,” replied Killian. “In fact, I vastly prefer going after the historic ones. My crew isn’t always in agreement, especially when it’s been a while since our last haul, so I take as many of the recent ones as I can to keep the income flowing but the truth is that I like the hunt, and the thrill of finding something that’s been lost for centuries. That’s actually what I was doing in London when I met David, I was studying maritime law with an emphasis on historical marine salvage.”

“Yeah, and he used to bore the pants off all of us there by talking about all the old wrecks he’d like to find,” piped up David from the other end of the table. “I now know more about the history of piracy and shipwrecking than anyone needs to.”

“You loved every second of it,” retorted Killian. “When are you going to admit that you have a soft spot for scoundrels?”

“I am a small town sheriff and former police detective,” said David. “Scoundrels are my natural enemies.” 

“You keep telling yourself that, Dave.” 

They grinned at each other, then Leopold asked Killian to tell them about his favourite haul and although Emma tried not to listen, she soon found herself transported by the tale he told of how he had followed a series of obscure clues to the location of a merchant ship that had been sunk by the pirate Blackbeard in 1716, before he and his crew had narrowly escaped an oncoming storm with their haul still intact. His passion for his work was evident in every syllable, and she was so enthralled that she forgot her anger at his steadfast refusal to resemble the smarmy creep she’d met a year before. It was impossible to hate someone when you knew that underneath the scruff and charm beat the heart of a true and earnest nerd. If anything, that made him even more attractive, she thought in despair. She couldn’t hate him, not anymore, but the idea of liking him made her itchy. He was far too dangerous to like. 

As the evening wound down, David and Mary Margaret made plans to go for a walk to look at the Christmas light displays around town. They invited Emma and Killian along but both declined, knowing that David and Mary Margaret would be wrapped up in each other and the invitation was more politeness than actual desire for their company. 

Plus, Emma really wanted to be alone. She needed to think. 

Killian smiled at her as he said goodbye, but didn’t try to kiss her hand again. She was not disappointed by this. Definitely not. 

She had said her goodbyes and was just opening the door to leave when Ruth cried out “Oh, Emma, don’t go without the presents!”  

“What presents?” 

Ruth hurried to the door carrying two large plastic bags full of wrapped gifts. “Just a few things for you and Mary Margaret and Leopold, from me and David,” she said. “I nearly forgot them!”

Emma was touched, which made her uncomfortable. “Uh, thanks, Ruth. You really didn’t need to do that.” 

“Nonsense, dear, you know I think of all of you as family. Now, I’ll see you at your father’s for lunch on New Year’s Day?”

Emma nodded, managing a small smile. “We’ll be there,” she confirmed. 

Ruth handed her the bags, then pulled her into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Emma,” she said. 

For a brief moment Emma held herself stiffly but then she relaxed into the hug, letting herself imagine just for a moment how different things might have been if she’d had a mother like Ruth. “Merry Christmas,” she said, blinking frantically to hold back tears. She turned away quickly before they could fall and headed out to the car where Mary Margaret was waiting. 

Arriving back to her quiet apartment, Emma kicked off her heels and dropped the bags of presents next to the Christmas tree. Turning on the tree lights, she took a moment to admire them before kneeling down to remove the presents from their bags and arrange them with the others under the tree. They were all wrapped in the same cheerful red and gold paper except for one, a largish rectangular one which was wrapped in white with silver snowflakes. Curious, she picked it up and looked at the tag. 

For: Emma

From: Killian

Killian had gotten her a Christmas present. Emma stared dumbly at it for a minute, trying to process such an astounding development. What the hell was she supposed to make of this? 

She should put it under the tree with the others, she knew. They always opened their presents on Christmas Day. Their dad was coming over and bringing breakfast. She should wait. 

But she couldn’t. Somehow, she didn’t want an audience when she opened it; didn’t really want her father and sister to even know she had it. Carefully she removed the wrapping paper, slicing the tape gently with her fingernail and unfolding the paper to reveal a book, bound in rich blue leather. She caught her breath as she read the title. 

The Princess Bride. 

For the second time that evening Emma felt tears spring to her eyes, but this time she couldn’t blink them back. They rolled freely down her cheeks as she stroked her fingertips across the soft leather cover with its gold-embossed lettering and silhouette of Westley and Buttercup. 

How did he know? She thought. Her favourite movie, her favourite book. The tattered paperback copy of it that she had carried with her through half a dozen foster homes until it fell apart. How could he possibly have known? 

Before she could think better of the impulse, she was in her bug and out onto the snowy streets, pulling into a parking space in front of David’s apartment just minutes later. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell. 

Killian opened the door, the surprise on his face quickly giving way to pleasure. 

“Swan,” he said, “This is unexpected. Would you like to come in?” 

“No, I can’t stay, I just— I wanted to thank you, Killian. For the present. It’s— it’s perfect. I love it.” 

To her fascination a pink flush bloomed across his cheekbones and he reached up to scratch nervously behind his ear. It was adorable. 

Damn him. 

“I’m glad you liked it, love.” 

“How did you know what to get me?”

“I— may have asked David to ask Mary Margaret what you loved best in all the world. She said The Princess Bride and books, so the conclusion was an obvious one.”

“Why would you go to all that trouble?”

“I have spent the last year writhing in shame over my conduct during the first five minutes of our acquaintance, I simply wanted to do something to show you that I can be more than a boorish lout.” 

She smiled at that, looking up at him a bit shyly. 

“I feel bad now that I didn’t get you anything.” 

“It’s no matter, love. If you’ve forgiven me for our first meeting, that’s all the gift I need.” 

She nodded. “It’s forgiven. And forgotten.” 

“Then perhaps… your phone number, if I might be so bold?”

She hesitated. “Aren’t you going back to your ship soon? We won’t— I mean, I won’t— we can’t— see each other…” 

He chuckled. “I’m asking for your number, Swan, not your hand in marriage. I’d like to be able to text you from time to time, perhaps even hear your voice. That’s all.” 

“Really? I mean, you really want to talk to me?”

“Aye.” 

“Why?”

He smiled, his dimples winking at her, and she was proud that she managed not to melt into a puddle of goo on the floor. “Because I like you,” he said simply. 

She opened her mouth to ask why again, but managed to stop herself when he raised an eyebrow, clearly anticipating that very question. Instead she leaned towards him, watching his eyes widen as she reached around him to slide his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, thrilling at the way his breath caught when her fingertips caressed the tight curve of his ass. She held it out for him to unlock and when she finally tore her gaze from his to program her number into his contacts, she heard him exhale in relief and it made her smile.  

The smile was still on her face when she handed the phone back to him, and when she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Killian Jones,” she whispered in his ear. 

Her hand had barely touched the handle of her car door when her phone beeped with an incoming text. 

And a Happy New Year to you, Emma Swan, it said. 

[pingo1387]

[su spoilers under cut] 

wow so uh. this bomb. heart of the crystal gems and all that. positive and negative aspects... 

positive: not really any super-angst/wangst abt pink/rose getting in the way. rupphire wedding, genuine character development/exploration for garnet and ruby (and a bit for sapphire), the latter two not really being focused on as any more than “we’re in looooove, opposites attract” before this. bismuth is out, possibly permanently even if we might not see her too much considering the voice actor cost and praying she doesn’t get shattered lol. finally get some closure on the cluster situation with a positive outlook there. arm-wrestling with YD was great. garnet finally seeing BD again and BD recognizing her was really cool. lapis is back. peridot’s there. steven somehow getting a cool new ability again and that pink aura calling back to the foreshadowing from Mr Greg. ruby being a cowboy. amethyst being a horse and trying to protect steven emotionally. mr dewey and jamie connecting over their lost prospects and crying together. ronaldo squaring up to fight before petey pulls him away. actually using the emergency system they talked about when nanefua became mayor. 

negative: the “RQ is PD” reveal felt like a poorly-written fanfic (”Steven found out! Now Amethyst and Garnet found out! Now Greg knows! Oh my god, Bismuth reformed, and now she knows! Here come the Diamonds for a surprise attack on Earth, and now they know too!”); everyone was pretty calm about the whole thing, even considering bismuth’s minor freak-out and sapphire’s warping away; i understand greg’s and amethyst’s reactions since they never actually met pink diamond (plus amethyst probably never met YD or BD, and even though greg was kidnapped by them he never really saw any worse side to them than that), but everyone else is kinda... hm. anyway. the diamonds knowing the truth abt PD is a little weird, like, what are they going to do now? accept that pink is kinda really dead considering that steven remembers nothing about her life? kidnap steven and take him to homeworld? become best friends with the CG???? i really hope it’s not the last one bc jesus christ they’re genocidal imperialists, one emotional connection with their little sister doesn’t make up for that. also why did steven tell them in the first place? it was such an important secret that pearl was ordered to keep quiet about it for five thousand years and he literally told two incredibly major enemies without hardly a second thought, like, that was his first response, “oh the diamonds are here! gimme a sec guys i got this!” also why is lapis there? glad to have her back but her entire character arc so far has been “i’m scared of the diamonds and i will absolutely under no circumstances face them in battle” and suddenly she’s like “heyyy change of plans” with no forewarning? why 

[mage-cat]

Unbubbled, Chapter 6

It’s done. The longest chapter yet. Here’s hoping for more writing momentum going forward. A ton of this is my “A Single Pale Rose” reaction. It slotted so neatly into where the plot was already going that it almost feels intentional.

Chapter is under the cut, clocking in at ~3200 words. The link to the AO3 version is through here.

Bismuth arrived at the Sky Arena the next day and found herself staring at the state of it. It was far from her favorite project she had ever worked on, but nothing drove home just how long she had been out of the world quite like seeing half of the place just gone. Some of the damage was deliberate, but much more was clearly just weathering, decay, and neglect. Still, about a third of the seating was intact along with enough of the fighting ring that Pearl and Steven had more than enough space for a vigorous-looking sparring session in which they were joined by a brown-skinned human who looked to be about Steven's age. Garnet was alone in the stands until Bismuth joined her.

“You found Pearl's note. You really do have her distracted. This is usually the highlight of her week, and she almost forgot.”

“Steven's friend Connie, right?” Bismuth noticed the familiar pink blade the girl was using. “I can't believe she's training with that. Pearl knows better. I made that thing for someone three times the girl's size. And is she relying completely on Steven for defense? That fits with Pearl's style, but it's not a good move for someone who can't regenerate.”

“Just watch.”

In a blare of pink light, the two children disappeared, replaced by one, much taller, person who was such a seamless blend of their appearances that there was only one explanation.

“Steven can fuse with humans. You must be so proud.”

Garnet's only answer was a wide smile.

“So where's the junior power couple?”

“Amethyst and Peridot are supposed to be starting the process of gathering up the bits of the broken warp pad we'll be moving, but it's equally likely that they're just enjoying the alone time somewhere in the general area. Steven could use a test of his healing skills and repairing it in place is unlikely to do us much good.”

“How did things go with Lapis Lazuli?”

“She didn't return to the barn before Steven fell asleep. I brought him home after that and haven't heard from Lapis.”

"Did Steven ask you about that Jasper?"

"Yes, and Peridot advocated for trying to heal her as well. My Future Vision is foggy on how it will go. Me being there for it certainly won't help matters, and it's always harder to predict things I won't have a hand in. I hate to say it, but I feel like something has been blocking me lately. Many things have happened that I haven't seen coming. I don't like it. Before her corruption, Jasper was nothing but antagonistic. Steven thinks he can win anybody over. He's almost completely right, but I don't like dealing with almost when it comes to his safety."

Stevonnie unfused and Steven and Connie went back to double-teaming Pearl.

"He looks like he can handle himself."

"You don't look at him and see him small the way the rest of us do, which might be a good thing. It's hard to treat the child we've raised like the adult he's becoming."

Down in the fighting ring, Pearl called an end to training for the day. Bismuth and Garnet came down from the stands to join them.

"You all looked great out there,” Bismuth called out as they drew closer.

Pearl put a hand on Connie's shoulder. “Connie is the best student I've ever had.”

“There's no higher praise in the galaxy. I hope you know that.”

Connie hugged the sheathed sword to her chest. “It's nice to hear a confirmation from someone else.”

“I'm impressed by how well you handle that big blade, but would you be offended if I made you a backup weapon more your size? It's a professional pride thing for me.”

Connie looked conflicted. The fact that she had been trusted with Rose Quartz's sword clearly meant a lot to her, but it would have been a lie to say there was no appeal in having a weapon that was wholly her own.

“You don't have to answer right now,” Pearl said, “and we'll have to clear it with your mother regardless.”

Connie's face cleared into a polite smile, “Thank you for the offer ma'am. I'll give it serious thought.”

That got a chuckle from Bismuth. She always found human honorifics strangely endearing.

As the group walked from the nearest functioning warp pad to the ruined one they would be moving, Bismuth tried to place exactly which desert they were in. It wasn't until they were near enough to the large mound of rubble raising up behind the smaller heap of warp pad pieces that Amethyst and Peridot were working at that she could make out the shape of the crystalline fragments and make a connection. “What happened to the Communications Hub?”

“Mostly Sugilite.” Pearl answered. “It was an intentional demolition. Human commutations technology has gotten to the point that the Hub was interfering with the signals. It's actually reached a pretty impressive state.” She removed a cell phone from her gemstone."This device can reach any other device of this nature, provided it has the right code, and access a world-wide information network. Of course, humans being humans, they mostly use it for rather trivial matters, but trivial matters can be quite key to human bonding."

"I just wish you would remember that text messaging exists," Amethyst said in a tone that implied that there was more than one story behind the statement.

"If you don't want to be interrupted, you could always turn yours off."

"But then I have to remember to turn it back on."

Pearl rolled her eyes as she returned her phone to her gemstone and they all joined in the task of transferring the bits of warp pad into a dumpster that Amethyst and Peridot swore that they had obtained legally.

The job was about three quarters of the way done before Steven broached a topic that had been working its way from the back of his mind since he had seen Bismuth and his mother's sword, currently safely stowed away at the beach house, in one place again at the arena. "Hey, Bismuth? Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead and shoot, Rose Bud."

"You said that the sword you made for Mom couldn't shatter a Gem. Are you sure about that?"

"Of course I'm sure. That's what she asked for. I wouldn't have given it to her if I hadn't met her specifications."

"It's just... A lot of Gems saw her shatter Pink Diamond with it."

Bismuth turned to Garnet, behind her, Pearl looked distressed as her hand flew up to cover her mouth. "Pink Diamond was shattered, and I'm only finding out now?"

"Catching you up on over 5000 years takes time,” Garnet said. “It was about a decade after we lost you."

"Fair. Fair. The Forge obviously hadn't been touched while I was gone. Was there another smithy? Somewhere someone could have made a replica?"

There was a buzzing sound, causing Steven to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. "Pearl, where's your phone?"

Pearl removed her hand from her mouth, "You saw what I did with it a moment ago."

"I just got a text from you. It says 'I want to tell you, but I can't.' You followed it with an emoji of a monkey doing that 'speak no evil' thing."

“Well that's just silly. Let me get mine back out and...” But the glow from her gemstone didn't resolve into her phone. Pearl stared at the remote control in her hand in confusion. “Odd.” She handed it to Connie. Another glow resulted in a violin. “No.” The next was a notepad. “Still no!” The one after was a screwdriver.

Steven's phone buzzed again. “Your phone sent another one.” He held it up so Pearl could see that the message was an image of a single hibiscus flower. Her eyes went wide.

“Steven,” She said as she bent to make clear eye contact with him. “I need you to go inside my gem and find my phone.”

“What?! Is it stuck in there or something?”

“There are certain things I can't tell you, but I can tell you I need my phone. Please. I can bring you back out once you find what you're looking for.”

“Your phone?”

“Exactly. I'll keep your phone, text me with mine when you find it.”

Steven handed his phone over, and in a flash of white light, he was gone.

“Is it normal for people to go in there?” Connie asked.

“I don't recommend you try to follow him,” Peridot said. “I'm not sure if anything purely organic that went in could come out alive.” She paused as a thought occurred to her. “Pearl, would you be willing to help me with an experiment involving some potted plants?”

“Ask me again another time.”

Bismuth put a reassuring hand on her back. "Are you alright?"

"I may be soon. I just can't... Steven's a smart boy. It shouldn't take him much more than five minutes or so. Let's.... let's finish picking up these pieces."

They resumed work, Pearl doing her part with one hand while stealing glances to the phone in her other  every few seconds. It buzzed just as the last fragment went into the dumpster. She took a steadying breath as her gemstone began to glow.

The glow resolved into a kneeling Steven with Pearl's phone in his hand and a downcast expression. “I know,” he said.

“I wanted to tell you for so long.” If relief could melancholy, that was the tone of Pearl's voice in that moment.

“Mom was Pink Diamond.”

“What!?!” come the collective cry from everyone else.

In shock, Garnet split into a concerned Ruby focused on an absolutely livid Sapphire, “Rose lied to us!”

“And was an idiot,” Peridot said so bluntly as to derail everyone else's emotional reactions. She looked at the collection of shocked expressions turned her way. “Oh good, nobody looks like they want to shatter me for insulting her this time. I get that you all have, like, emotional attachments to her memory, but I never met her. From that objective perspective, I've got to say that any plan that involves faking your death stinks worse than sulfur.” She caught sight of Pearl aggressively trying and failing to pull her hand away from her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“It's the last order Pink Diamond ever gave her,” Steven said, “to never speak of it again. Pearl, can I… reverse that? Give you a new order?”

Pearl's shoulders shrugged that she didn't know while her eyes begged him to try.

“By my authority as,” Steven looked like the words were crawling up from his throat and tasted bad while they were at it, “authority as Pink Diamond, you're secrets are your own, to share or keep as you see fit. All orders to command your silence are void.”

“I am so glad I got you to read so many fantasy novels,” Connie said, nervous to be intruding into an important scene. “Curse-breaking can be tricky, but I think you covered everything.”

Steven still looked queasy. “I never want to do that again. Did it work?”

Pearl slowly removed her hand from her mouth, her eyes locked on Steven's. “I was made over seven thousand years ago to serve Pink Diamond. I was designed to balance what the other Diamonds saw as her impulsive nature, but I had impulses of my own, to question the nature of my role and our respective positions within the hierarchy of Homeworld.” Her gaze flicked to Peridot for a moment with a ghost of a smile. “Forehead Gems simply never take 'because I said so' for an answer. I was lucky that my Diamond found this an interesting trait rather than something worth shattering me over.

“When she was given Earth as a colony, when she actually began to look around, she was enchanted by it. Novelty always did that for her. At first Rose Quartz was simply a disguise to get closer, to walk around without ceremony. The more she saw, the more she loved what was already here. As Rose she began the Rebellion to convince the other Diamonds that Earth wasn't worth it, but they simply became more committed to making sure the colony went ahead as planned. Rose came up with a more drastic measure to free herself, her Gems, and the planet. We staged her shattering in front of her court. I shape-shifted in Rose Quartz, stabbed Pink Diamond with a blade no one on Homeworld knew could do no permanent damage, and left behind some fake shards that she made beforehand. She thought the other Diamonds would abandon Earth if she was gone. They didn't, and we no longer had our old ways of discovering their plans. But she was always Rose from that day forward. Until the day she gave birth to you. You are everything she wanted to be, kind and selfless and free. Those were the ideals that I loved her for, even if...”

Peridot cut in with no embarrassment about intruding into the scene. “I still say the plan stinks. I mean, even Jasper kept going on about about what a great tactician Rose Quartz was, but I guess it's easy to look like a chessmaster when you're playing against yourself!”

“It's not like it was her first plan. She tried many delaying tactics...”

“Delaying tactics my foot. Yellow Diamond told me to go through with a plan to destroy Earth. I told her no. It was not that hard. I'm pretty sure a Diamond with an army of loyal soldiers behind her would have firmer ground to stand on than I did with no one behind me but the four,” she glanced at Ruby and Sapphire, “five, whatever, of you hiding behind the remains of my robot!”

Sapphire stepped forward to confront Pearl. “Do you have any idea how much information like this must have thrown off our projections! Neither Garnet nor I can see the probability of futures we can't imagine. Maybe we could have seen the Corruption coming. Maybe we could have shielded everyone. Maybe, maybe...”

Ruby came from behind to grab her hand, pulling her attention towards her. “Sapphire, I've got a better question for maybes. Where would the two of us be if the Rebellion had never brought us to Earth? Maybe I would have been moved to another assignment. Maybe I would still be your bodyguard. Maybe I would be standing next to you everyday, still panicking at the thought of what might happen if I touched you. We didn't do what we did for her. We did it for each other.”

Sapphire calmed a bit at the warm touch and the warm words of truth cutting through her cold fury. “I still need a little time with no one in my mind but me, if that's alright.”

“I'll be waiting when you're ready.”

Bismuth pulled Pearl into a hug. “You deserved better.”

“Rose was everything I wanted.”

“You still deserved better. You should have been trusted with a secret if it really needed to be a secret.” Bismuth wasn't convinced on that point, but now wasn't the time for the argument. “Putting a gag on you wasn't right.”

Amethyst spoke up, “So, um, are we gonna finish what we came here for, or did that take the wind out of us?”

“I feel lighter than I have in five thousand years,” Pearl said.

“Let's fix this thing where it'll do some good,” said Bismuth.

As they trekked to the working warp pad, Peridot floating the filled dumpster along with them, and then to a spot that was about a five-minute walk from the Forge's entrance, just far enough to allow for a warning if someone less-than-friendly came through, there was a tension in the air. Steven's healing powers were among his most temperamental and had been thrown off before by emotional upheaval. Those upheavals paled in comparison to the secrets Pearl had been forced to keep until that day. Even as Connie kept an arm around Seven's shoulders and tried to put his mind elsewhere, his thoughts kept returning to the biggest lie his mother had ever told.

Once they reached the spot, there was some dithering over how exact the reassembly had to be before the healing would work properly. In the end, it was decided that the first trial would be to simply dump the rubble into a pile, arrange it into roughly the right shape, and see if it worked. They would spend the time it would take to fit it together like a 3-D puzzle only if the first try failed.

While the Gems did that, Steven walked a few yards away, Connie following. They sat crossed-legged on the ground and together ran through a meditation exercise Garnet had taught them. When they came back, the fragile look on Steven's face had been replaced by one of determination.

When Steven slapped his spit-covered hand onto the pile of fragments, pink light flared and everyone except Sapphire let out breaths they had hardly realized they had been holding. The seer just smiled. Peridot inspected the results before declaring that it looked right. A quick test run that she took to the Temple and back bore that out.

Night had fallen and the kids were exhausted. The Gems were also emotionally wrung out enough that they were all more than happy to retreat two-by-two to be alone with the one person they each felt that they needed to be with most that night.

Pearl spent the dark hours curled in Bismuth's arms, telling stories about her life before the Crystal Gems were even a concept.

“I don't think Rose realized how much her order covered. I don't think it ever crossed her mind that I ever would want to talk about any of it, but I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for those times, for better or worse. It meant hiding things that seemed silly to hide. With the Diamonds coming back, it went beyond silly into... I know she didn't see that coming. It's really the little things I missed talking about sometimes though.”

While the Diamonds had trained Pink, their Pearls had trained her. She had given them fits, if carefully and gracefully restrained fits, over how many times she responded to an instruction with “But why?” She wondered how they thought of her now.

“Amethyst thinks I'm rigid. I would love to see her and Yellow square off against each other. If I didn't hate the texture of food so much, I would get popcorn for the event.”

Bismuth let her babble and wondered if Pearl realized that every word made it more clear that she was more responsible for the Crystal Gems than Rose ever had been. If Pink Diamond had been given a different Pearl, one less inclined to question what she was told, Bismuth doubted Pink Diamond would have ever considered becoming Rose.