#My friend pointed out it could be because pink diamond is connected to nature so she can

[ratsbanes]

rose quartz: how did she baby? Like, I get eating to gems, they just shape shift a stomach and remove the contents later, but a baby? We've all been to sex ed, you need a sperm and an egg. But rose is inorganic, so she has none, so how? I would get it if Steven is not related to Greg at all and is only a gem, but he's not so?

[444tsumu]

title Not His Type

rating ★ ★ ☆ nsfw content

word count 4,800+

warnings timeskip!mattsun, yes i’m writing that he still practices w the s4, anyways explicit content, matsukawa calls you a bitch, spitting, rough sex, spanking, mattsun fucks you in his car, oral sex (f!reader giving), don't be silly wrap your willy folks

author’s note thanks to @kansroji for forcing me encouraging me to write this self-indulgent mattsun fic, send her her flowers everyone bc this was just muah :*

summary Issei teaches you that the meaning behind the words ‘I hate you’ is a lot different from what you’re used to.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“How could someone be such a bitch?”

“I don’t know Mattsun, you tell me.”

There are two things necessary to keep the world spinning on its axis: inertia, and the insatiable hatred between you and Issei Matsukawa.

No one quite knows where it came from. Maybe it was your lack of regard for his permanently disinterested personality, or maybe it was the insufferable habit you had of making a comment every time Matsukawa did as much as make a noise— whatever it was, it was a never ending cycle of pure repugnance.

His tone was light, yet knowing Iwaizumi, you knew it was wavering on a more strict tone you really didn’t want to hear today.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

Oikawa watched the interaction between the three of you, eyes narrowing as he did something nobody appreciates from him: he started plotting.

To you and Issei, the nature of your relationship was that there wasn’t one at all. There was nothing but an indescribable hatred that will never go away because you guys just physically can’t stand the other.

To everyone else though? In Hanamaki’s words, “you guys just needed to fuck and get it over with already.” Sexual tension couldn’t fill half of the void the storm you and Mattsun left after every exchanged word. It nearly swallowed the room, the only two not able to see it being yourself and the middle blocker.

With an inquisitive look on his face, Oikawa decided the only way to get rid of this long lasting rivalry being now or never. “My dear Y/L/N, bad news.”

The words brought you back down to Earth, making you bite down a glare at the bored man in front of you and turning towards the setter.

“As much as I’d love to be the one to take you home,” he winks at you, long arm reaching out to lightly press itself against your cheek and you already see where this is going, “I just can’t—”

“Tooru..” Your voice wavered the same way Iwaizumi infamously did.

“Seriously Y/N-Chan, I hate being the bearer of bad news..” The sparkle in his eyes made you clench your jaw to prevent the scream from slipping through your lips. “But I had almost promised Iwa-chan and Makki a ride today.”

You could hear the slick in his voice, and you absolutely hated it. You hated how you knew exactly what was being planned. You knew in Oikawa’s stupid little head, he was formulating a stupid little plan thinking things would work out in his own stupid little way.

“I’m not getting into that fucking asshole’s car—”

“Oikawa I will purposely crash if she as much as steps foot in my car—”

“Get your fucking feet off my dashboard.” You hear his voice growl, long fingers reaching in front of him to press the Start-Stop button on his car and get the engine running.

You didn’t mean to press a sock-covered foot onto it, it’s just that you needed to adjust the anklet resting against your skin. You hadn’t caught when his eyes glanced over at the diamonds either, remaining for a second too long to be appropriate and quickly force it’s way in front of him.

With a slightly exaggerated roll of your eyes, you threw your head against the headrest and stared through the window to your side. You were wishing there was an awkward silence to torture Matsukawa’s ears, but instead, his phone automatically connected to its Bluetooth and began to play a song you surprisingly recognized.

He drove faster than you were sure he was supposed to. As soon as you blinked, he had already backed out of Seijoh’s parking lot and sped through the secluded roads and towards the city you inhabited.

Unwillingly, of course, you managed to steal a few glances at the brown-haired man next to you. His face was (surprise) as uninterested as ever, eyebrows resting dully above his hooded lids and lips turned just slightly down enough to look like a frown. Every now and then, his lips would go along with the song and his tongue would swipe across his bottom lip and into the corner of his cheek.

Matsukawa wasn’t an ugly guy. There wasn’t enough hatred in your soul to even try to lie against the idea. He was extremely tall, extremely fit, had a nice smile, and his voice matched his looks. If he wasn’t such a stuck up, emotionless asshole, he’d probably be one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen. If and probably, of course.

“Gotta staring problem?” He muttered, head bobbing to the song in the background and that in itself just brought your cholesterol an unhealthy amount higher.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I see you have a lack of vocabulary too..” The banter between the two of you went back and forth, an awkward silence retching the car’s air after he sadly had the last word.

“I can’t believe there was a time you weren’t such a nuisance.” You nearly mouthed, words quiet enough to get lost within the lyrics of Kanye West, yet loud enough to get into Mattsun’s earshot and cause the car to abruptly park on the side of the nearly secluded road ahead of you.

“Hey, what the fu—”

“What’s your problem with me?” Matsukawa’s words haunted the air, and if you weren’t already awaiting his words, you might have actually been scared of the harshness in his tone.

“Me?” You questioned, using a hand to dramatically smack against your chest and glare at him in disbelief. “What’s your problem with me?”

He didn’t respond, only staring at you blankly and gripping on the steering wheel with enough aggression to taint the knuckles of his large hands white.

“Stop acting like a toddler,” the annoyance looked weird on him, and his usual nonchalant attitude disappeared with a mask of pure frustration that you’d be lying about if you said was ugly on him, “just tell me what the issue is so we can both stop whatever the fuck it is we have going on.”

“We,” you pointed between the two of you, “do not have anything going on, for your information.” You stubbornly crossed your arms across your chest, staring at him blankly and watching his large hand run across his face.

“You wouldn’t even be my type, you know damn well that isn’t what—”

Every word after the first half of the sentence drowned out as you continued to repeat it in your head. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type. You wouldn’t even be my type…

“Earth to Y/N.” Mattsun snapped, glaring over at you and leaning his body back lazily against his driver’s seat. It was slightly reclined back, the comfortability of his position insinuating he didn’t plan on leaving until this conversation got somewhere.

“What do you mean I wouldn’t be your type?”

The words came out faster than you could acknowledge them. You didn’t regret speaking them, but you knew that they only worsened your situation. He would use this as if it was fuel to his never-ending out of fire of an ego and you hated it. The cold air in the car suddenly became more noticeable, goosebumps raising onto your exposed skin and making you feel as if all your senses were being ambushed.

“Well, well, well…” He begins to tease as if he was never angry, his large arms resting behind his head and that stupid smirk back onto his pink lips, “you feel some type of way about what I said?” His voice echoed into your ears as you did nothing but watch him in disbelief.

“You never stood a chance with me anyways.” You bit back at him.

Something in the air changed, but neither of you decided to acknowledge it. It was dark, the light from the dashboard doing nothing but illuminating your features and making Issei smirk to himself in the lack of lighting.

“How so?” He was antagonizing you, itching for you to continue to play his little game back with him because he had a plan. You could see it from the way he lazily blinked over at you, smirk still against his glowing face with nothing but arrogance and faux oblivion.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me if you tried.”

Those words changed the aura within the car all in itself. You knew the double entendres of a statement could go any way with him. Deep down, you both knew exactly what you meant. Your words remained solid though, eyes staring at him like a fox refusing to glance away from his brown irises.

“Wanna try me?”

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew that. Something about you didn’t care though. There were many ways this conversation could’ve went, but you wouldn’t expect it to go in this direction.

The air in the room was thick, Issei’s brown irises watching you nothing short of predator like. No one spoke after those three words, and faintly, the change in mood also affected the change in genre of music as R&B began to slowly play through his speakers. You wanted to scoff.

His large ring covered hand suddenly inched towards your chin, gripping your jaw and forcing your eyesight on his own face. You weren’t one to blush, but the roughness to his calloused fingers brought a small tinge between your slightly exposed thighs.

“You gonna get in the back or I gotta force you back there?” His words commanded you, the strictness laced within the confines of his voice leaving you no option to do as he told.

Doing what Matsukawa said as if you were following his orders was something foreign to you. The temptation of doing as you pleased crossed the back of your mind, but the curiosity of seeing what he had in store filled you with much more satisfaction.

Without a word and instead settling for a simple eye roll, you kicked your shoes off and found your way between the two front seats and into the cold leather seats of the back of his car. It was cramped, surprisingly cleaner than you'd imagine, and smelt of nothing but Issei.

You would have enjoyed it if the circumstances were different.

Your body sat with your feet resting behind you, leaving a space open for him. The sound of his car door opening and shutting was the cause of the goosebumps rising against your skin.

Subconsciously, you knew were supposed to hate him. You were supposed to despise him for always being such an asshole to you, and you were never supposed to forgive him for anything he’s ever said to you out of his stupid smirking mouth.

You weren't supposed to be hopping into the backseat of his car after challenging him into sleeping with you. You weren’t supposed to be enjoying the feeling of his presence as it finally found its way next to you, the dark tints of his windows hiding his expression but not doing a good job at hiding the bulge hiding in the confinements of his sweatpants.

Your eyes glanced over his, quickly switching between the tent and his irises with an innocent smile on your face. “You gonna take those off or am I gonna have to force them off you?’

Mattsun had never laughed at anything you’d ever said. At least, never to your face. For the first time though, a soft chuckle left his lips as he hunched his body over and rolled his sweats down. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to provoke that sound out of him again.

He wore Supreme black briefs, a smirk on his lips as he watched your eyes trail over to the excessively large print. His dick was long, curving deliciously to the left and making you fear for your own safety. The thought of that nearly made you drool.

Mattsun made a show of pulling his briefs down, his erection springing to life and showing you that he wasn't even fully hard yet. Maybe you would’ve felt some type of way about not arousing him as much as he was you, and you could thank the pool inside your panties for that, but something about it brought a glimmer to your eye Issei couldn’t ignore.

“Eager to suck my dick, huh?” His words ring against your ears, and you do nothing but give him a glare while getting on all fours across the backseat.

His long torso leaned against the car door, eyes boring onto your frame with a blank expression that drove you insane. You knew this was all an act, he had to have been pretending just to get a rise out of you. There was no way you could’ve missed the way his dick twitched when you got up to take your shorts off.

Your frame was left in a white t-shirt and a seamless green pair of panties known for their cheekster style. He would’ve told you that you looked absolutely delectable, but he'd never let you sit within that satisfaction.

You lowered yourself on all fours once again, holding your hair back with one hand and lowering yourself down between his long limbs. Your eyes just couldn't look away, the large veins running up and down his perfect looking length in a way that made you embarrassingly ready to shove it down your throat already.

And without another word, you opened your lips and allowed a trail of saliva to sliver down the underside of his dick. His thighs tensed up, but as you watched him through your lashes while lowering your lips onto his tip, his bored and expressionless face remained the same.

He couldn't take his eyes off the sight in front of him, as much as he'd hate to admit it. Your ass was up in the air, back arched in a way that nearly made him release a groan as your pretty little mouth left sloppy kisses along his throbbing tip. You used a free hand to run down his cock slowly, hands landing underneath his thick balls and holding them alongside the bottom half of his dick.

He tried to hold the hiss you took out of him, but you used that as an excuse to make him suffer even more. Almost as if it were a competition, you sucked your cheeks in while taking the rest him that fit into your mouth agonizingly slow.

Matsukawa was too big, not that you were complaining. You didn’t have much of a gag reflex, but his size goes beyond that. So in order to accommodate to the situation at hand, you lolled your tongue out across your bottom lip and easily slipped a bit more than half of him down your throat until he felt his tip tickle the back of it.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out, words stopping as he bit his lip and tilted his head to get a better look at you.

Your eyes began to water, but you ignored the sensation to take a deep breath as you began to massage his balls and lower half with your saliva covered hands. You began to move your mouth in the opposite direction of your hands, touching just enough of his balls with your tongue to get him to grip a chunk of your hair from within your own hand.

“Fuck, just like that.” You never took your eyes off him, and Matsukawa found it even harder to control himself with the way you took so much of him with so much ease.

You hollowed your cheeks as you slipped his now fully-hard dick out your mouth. Trails of saliva followed, the explicit view of your teary eyes and sloppy lips making him groan within his throat.

“Fuck my throat.”

The words were harsh, your expression being just as blank as his once was, and Issei realized he wasn’t really the one in control here. Not if all it took was for you to tell him what to do and he was scrambling to do it like second nature.

His lips revealed that lazy smirk you wanted to fuck off his face, the large hand gripping your hair nearly shoving his dick back into your fresh, wet mouth. “Don’t mind if I do, princess.”

The nickname he called you didn't even have time to register in your mind, the sensation of Matsukawa forcing your head up and down his dick as much as he could being the only thing on your brain. You couldn't help the tears from slipping down your cheeks, eyes opening once again to hazily look over to the ones burning a hole into your face.

Matsukawa couldn’t find it in himself to look away from you. He wasn't sure if it was the tears, or the way you allowed him to fuck your throat so easily, or the drool leaking down into the balls you fondled at the same time, or even the way the hand once gripping your own hair found its way between your legs as he watched you play with yourself, but Issei decided this image was going to ruin everyone else for him.

He already decided he couldn't get enough of you. The sound of your gags filled with car in a nearly pornographic way, yet not once did you ask him to stop and he took note of that. 

“Fuck,” he broke out, eyes struggling to watch yours as his lips parted open, “you’re gonna make me cum,” his words were interrupted by a load groan. Your tongue found its way back onto his balls as his tip rammed into the back of your throat and Issei felt his toes curl. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..”

Right on time, you went against his strong grip and popped his dick out of your mouth with saliva drooling down in a way that looked so forbidden, Issei was sure he would’ve came at that sight alone.

“That was...”

“Not your type?” You bit at him, a mocking smile on your lips as you bit your lip and found your way onto the comfort of his lap.

It was weird, the way you felt like you fit perfectly within his frame as if it was a piece of a puzzle. Matsukawa would agree if he could, hands nearly instinctively finding its way onto the globed of your ass and pulling the fabric of your panties over and over again.

“Never in a million years.”

His smirk haunted you, lidded eyes staring at you once again and you realize Issei Matsukawa is a really hard guy to get a reaction out of. So taking the challenge yet again, you stared at him just as emotionless. Your fingers lifted the patch stuck to your folds, and the trail of wetness that dripped over onto both you and his own thighs was nearly sinful to the sore eyes.

It was hard to imagine taking a dick you were sure you could see in your stomach with such an expression, and you wouldn’t wish that suffering on your worst enemy. You couldn’t believe how much just half of him stretched your insides out, your walls sucking him in and barely being able to hold it in together.

“Don't worry, take your time.” Matsukawa’s tone was beyond condescending, the taunt behind his words bringing an anger within you enough to cloud your mind of all common sense. It was unexpected, the way your body just shoved the rest of him inside of your tight, pulsating hole and rested all your body weight on top of him.

“Fuck!” Both of you yelped out, your hands clawing at his chest while his gripped your ass cheeks apart in nothing but a burning sensation.

He filled you up to the brim, the sureness of him hitting your cervix causing your eyes to flutter at the feeling. You bit your lip, adjusting your body to where your feet were on either side of him on the backseat and your body was more able to move.

His eyes widened in surprise at your actions, the sound of both of your pants alongside the music that was long forgotten struggling to keep you attentive. Without warning, you lifted your body up and slammed back down onto him. The action brought a pretty little gasp out your lips, mouth parted and eyes clenched at just how fucking amazing the curve and thickness of his cock was.

“C’mon baby,” he whispered into your ears, hands reaching over to intertwine themselves with your own so you got better balance, “fuck me like you mean it.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You breathed out, beginning to bounce your body up and down his dick perfect enough to hear the squelching sounds of your wetness after every impact. Issei groaned, eyes glued to the sight of where your pussy swallowed him whole and spit him back out over and over again.

“Mm, what else baby?”

Issei’s bored resolve started to crack, groans slipping through his lips in a way that made you tighten up against him even more if it were possible. Your hands gripped his intertwined ones, bouncing up and down faster than you could probably handle. The sensation of his dick hitting your cervix over and over causing you to arch your back closer into his body as you bounced.

The sound of your body slamming into his began to quicken, the strength of your legs giving up as you realized his started to fuck you back from the bottom and drill his length into you.

“Fuck, Issei…” You moaned out embarrassingly loud, Mattsun’s eyes watching you with curiosity in his irises from the way he wanted to figure out how to get you to moan out like that again.

“Don’t be shy now,” he teased, the strain in his voice telling you that even if he was torturing you with the pounding of his dick, he was enjoying it just as much as you, “where’d all that mouth go, pretty?”

You felt yourself clench at the nickname, head leaning back and leaving your neck open for him to lick a trail over towards your jaw and softly bite the plush skin. The windows began to fog up, the sensation of your poor pussy taking him in and out and quick pace causing the car to jump up and down with each stroke.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered out, nearly crying out when his hands found it’s way towards under your ass to support you as he drilled all of this thickness into your throbbing pussy.

The familiar knot began to grow within your stomach, and your hand found it’s way between his messy locks only to grab it and tilt his head roughly back against the window. A surprised groan left his lips, eyes staring up at you widely with a smirk endured from straight pleasure shot up his lips.

“You gonna cum all on daddy’s dick?”

Usually the words would have made you cringe, and you wanted to bite a snarky remark at him for the name. Yet something in you grew feral at the sentence, beginning to rub your clit against him each time you harshly dropped down as you roughened your grip on his hair.

“Fuck yes, daddy, make me cum,” your words tickled his ears, the moans at the end of each word bringing Matsukawa into a state of euphoria. He could hear you say that to him for the rest of his life, if he could.

“Come on baby,” he groaned out harshly, smacking your ass enough to leave a sting that made you cry out into his neck, “give it to me!”

His words echoed in your ears, your loud cries like music to his ears as he watched you fuck him back just as rough as he was being with you. Your hand pulled his head back once again, his scalp hitting the window harshly but he didn’t care once your lips came crashing onto his.

It was nothing but teeth and tongue, sucking on each other’s muscles and making out as if nothing in this world could ever be right again without it. His hands gripped your ass once again, spreading them harshly apart and spanking them with as much toughness that went into spiking a volleyball.

You screamed into his mouth, words being unable to come out as he began to drill into you even rougher and faster than you knew was possible. Your legs had long given out at this point, simply being tossed up and down like a rag doll by Issei’s strong arms and cocky attitude. You were in heaven, even if you’d never admit it.

“I— I hate you,” you fought to yelp out, pussy beginning to squeeze at the feeling you knew all too well as you stared into his eyes and made him look at you as if he was seeing God, “but you fuck me— fuck, you fuck me so good..”

Your words became faint whispers, stars beginning to formulate instead of his once brown irises and bring you into a state of euphoria.

“Daddy I’m gonna—” The words were stolen from your lips as Matsukawa slammed your lips against his own and gripped your back close to his chest.

“Cum baby,” he groaned into your lips, your own sounds preventing you from being able to kiss him back as your covered tits bounced into the confinement of his chest, “cum on daddy’s big dick.”

The words brought a vibration within you, a mantra of the words daddy and please slipping as you felt the euphoria take over your body and leave you with nearly nothing inside you. Issei could practically feel you cum, his own resolve giving out as his shot his thick cum into your throbbing pussy and bringing another scream from between your swollen lips.

“Take it, good girl— fuck yes..” Words slipped from his mouth without his own permission, the sensation of your pussy holding him within you as if it never wanted to let him go and he really wouldn’t mind.

Nothing but your struggles to catch your own breath filled the car, his own haunting the ghost of your ear as you laid out across his chest with saliva threatening to slip from your lips and cum leaking down both of your thighs. It was absolutely disgusting if you really thought about it, but the idea of knowing you had just slutted each other out so sinfully brought your toes to curl one last time.

No one said a word, and as much as you wanted to comment on how he was still gripping your chest against his own, you decided to go against it and try to find reality from the solitude of his wide chest. You could hear Brent Faiyaz on the radio, the view of just how foggy the windows were making you giggle to yourself.

“What’s funny?” The rumble of the words against his chest caused your pussy to throb once again, and you had almost forgotten he was still lodged inside of you with a load of cum threatening to spill out.

“Nothing.” Your voice was gone, and as embarrassing as it was, Issei mentally found himself obsessing over how raspy it got.

The silence was calm, yet the awkward conversation of what next lingered within the air between the two of you. You knew it was going to come soon, and you weren’t really sure of what could possibly happen afterwards. There was no going back from this, Issei Matsukawa had fucked you so good, you never wanted to fuck anyone else again.

The first to break it was Mattsun, which took you by surprise. His large hands found their way towards you cheek, caressing your head as his pushed you back far enough to face him with fucked out eyes and swollen lips and Issei convinces himself you’re one of the seven wonders of the world.

“We should do that again sometime.” He suggests, bored eyes staring into yours as you noticed the small smile lifting amongst the corner of his lips. You wanted to smile back, but the idea of having some more fun with him seemed quite better.

“Eh,” you replied, lifting your weakened body back into his straddling state and biting your lips as you placed both hands across his broad chest. You notice the way his cock twitches hungrily within you, and you realize you were gonna enjoy this a bit too much.

He’s seeing stars, thinking the hottest thing he’s ever seen is a fucked out you staring at him this way and you realize you’ve finally won. You stare at him, bored eyes and a lazy smirk on your lips mimicking the face he spent all his life mastering.

“You’re not really my type.”

                             © 444TSUMU 2021

[woos-lil-oreo]

Love Scene

Pairing: Song Min Gi x Female! Reader

Word Count: approximately 3.1k words

Warnings: Slight Voyeurism???, Mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing/swearing, biting, spitting, Reader is a slight pillow princess, UNPROTECTED SEX (plastic wrap your peenie weenies), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight use of pet names... I think that's it.

Author's Note: Most of this is a BIG self-indulgence XD and that Mingi gif always get me going... AnYwAyS, This fic is NSFW!!!! If you are uncomfy, do not read! If I miss anything, please tell me. If you wanna join the taglist, send me an ask and let me know. Don't steal... all that ✨ jazz ✨ music. Drink your water and enjoy my dirty lil harlots ����

Taglist: @shusan @woowommy @ceopjy @joongsprincess @yunhofingers

Intro and Masterlist ✨

This is the happiest day of your life. You are dolled up in a beautiful snow-white dress decorated in speckled sequins and intricate rhinestone designs.

Your makeup is simple yet glamourous with a simple natural smoky eye with a shimmer in the inner corners. There is this aural glow of happiness around you, and you genuinely feel like a princess.

You are standing in front of your handsome fiancée with your hands holding each other, who is decked out in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt accented with a deep royal blue tie and shiny black Oxfords.

Hongjoong’s friend, Maddox, recites the point in the script where the vows would be repeated by you and your soon to be husband.

The vows. A spiritual binding of words that will connect the two of you until the end of eternity… or until you two get tired of each other, whichever comes first.

As you repeat after Maddox, Mingi’s eyes glisten with tears of joy. As much as he willed himself not to, one little miscreant of a tear dared to fall. You drop one of your hands to go wipe the tear stream off of his cheek.

The guests proceed to awe in adoration. Seonghwa fans his eyes to prevent his tears from falling, while Hongjoong is sporting a runny nose and a giant crocodile tear down his cheek, clinging to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

As you listen to Mingi recite his vows, tears start to well up in your eyes. You grip Mingi’s hand a little tighter to calm yourself because your makeup is beautifully done, and you’d be damned if you let a teardrop and a dried tear stain appear on your cheek. Jae-hee would have your ass. You got through the ceremony without tears!

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Maddox proclaims. You turn to Mingi, who now has one of the brightest smiles ever on his face, and he leaves a nice, sweet, lingering peck on your lips, still holding your hands.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Wooyoung screams out, earning himself a nice smack to the forehead from Yeosang. Wooyoung winces and rubs the spot while the guests laugh at their interaction and turn back to you when Mingi lets go of your hand and smirks.

Mingi pulls you to his chest, grabs you by the waist – pulling you close to him – and kisses you. As the kiss gets deeper, he places his hand on your cheek – steadying your head, and your hands work their way to the back of his head.

The crowd begins to root the two of you on, and Jae-hee screams out, “You guys are literally about to get a room!” You both pull away from each other and look at your husband. Mingi has a very thin layer of shimmer lip gloss on his mouth, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears are red.

A now very flustered and blushy boi Maddox quickly recollects himself from what he just witnessed and mutters, “They don’t pay me enough,” with a chuckle before he announces, loud and proud, “I-I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Song Min Gi!”

Everyone stands up from their seats and creates a round of applause as the newlywed couple leads the processional to the area where the wedding party, which is beautifully attired in soft peach pink dresses and deep royal sapphire blue accented suits, is to take pictures of one of the most important days you will never forget.

~25 minutes later~

The host has completed the introductions for the most chaotic wedding party that has ever existed, and everyone is getting to their seats in the venue.

The reception hall is absolutely stunning! The same colors of the wedding party are accented with gold. Diamonds are loosely scattered across the table, tealight candles alit floating in water vases, giving the room a soft glow in addition to the dimmed lighting.

The caterers are dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and slacks. The guys have a royal blue sleeve garter, and the girls a soft peach one.

Once everyone has settled at their tables, Jae-hee and Yunho approach the front of the makeshift stage to make their toasts as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Jae-hee grabs the microphone first, and she is already tearing up, and she is usually not one for emotion often. “Y/N, we have been friends for so long… we are practically sisters. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful and confident woman… and even though I put you through some shit….” All of ATEEZ shakes their head and groan in agreement, and the rest of the guests laugh in response.

Jae-hee rolls her eyes and continues. “I’m so happy that you have found the love of your life and that I wasn’t the first to get married.” You roll your eyes and get up to hug her, and she meets you halfway. While in her embrace, she whispers, “I love you, baby girl,” and you respond with the same hushed tone, “I love you, too,” letting one measly tear run.

You two kiss each other’s cheek, and you return to your seat, and Jae-hee returns to the stage. She grabs Yunho’s handkerchief to dab away her tears before they fall through mascara. “Mingi, I officially welcome you into the messy integration that is our family.” Mingi chuckles and nods in response.

The mic is passed to Yunho. “Mingi, you have grown into an immaculate young man who is decorated with accomplishments and people who love you. I’m really proud of you, and I wish you two the best of luck. Y/N, I have watched you become each other’s yin and yang. You may be a bit of a handful,” you roll your eyes and chuckle. “… But we love you so much, and we welcome you into our quote – end quote ‘messy integration that is our family.’” Yunho walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek, and bro hugs Mingi.

“Cheers!” After an emotional toast from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was time for the party to begin, and I mean both aspects of the term. Which explains why you are now seated in a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Mingi is standing across from you with a slightly evil glint in his eye.

Hope You Do by Chris Brown blares through the speakers in the venue. You immediately cover your warm cheeks with your hands to conceal the blush and warmth there, knowing what is to come. Mingi starts to remove his suit jacket… and Yeosang, Yunho, and surprisingly, Jongho remove their coats as well.

As the trio wines and grinds on the floor behind the Groom, Mingi moves closer towards you to go and remove your garter.

When he reaches you, he does not even take the time to bunch up your dress and goes straight into hunting for the garter. His big hands rub around the top of your knees to find it.

When he does, he drops his hands to the floor to give himself leverage. He proceeds to leave a speckled trail of kisses up your leg and bites right below the garter, causing you to yelp in surprise and the crowd to holler out.

Mingi drags the garter down your leg to your ankle and removes it from your foot. At this point, there is a tension between you two that begs and pleads to be relieved.

Mingi stands to his feet, grabbing your hands to guide you straight up off the chair. You two make eye contact, and you can see the tension. “Alright young bachelorettes, come out to the floor and catch you a bouquet!” The host says in the mic, and all the women move to the floor, ready to start drinking, the actual after-party, and the real fun.

When all participants are on the floor, you pretend to throw the bouquet to keep them on edge. After a few false turns, you finally throw, and Jae-hee sprints to the front to catch it effortlessly.

“Yeahhh bitches, I’m next to get married!!!” She jumps up and down as you laugh and the other ladies leave the floor.

The host announces that it is the fellas’ turn to come out on the floor. It was not as many males as females, but there was a good amount present. Mingi played the same card as you: pretending to throw the garter until he did.

In an ironic twist of events, Jongho caught it on the top of his head like a flower crown. When he patted his head to confirm he sort of caught it, he made eye contact with Jae-hee.

They both quickly look away with a bright pink flush on their cheeks, which causes you and Mingi to laugh together. He wraps his arms across your shoulder blades and squeezes your shoulder. You look at him questioningly, and he nods to the door. You nod and grab his hand, running to the back door with your husband.

Seonghwa will have your ass for running out and leaving him and Hongjoong to clean up your mess, but that is a tomorrow problem, and you have more… pressing matters to deal with.

Mingi is flying down the street with you in the back seat to compensate room for your dress. As he tries to get to your home without getting a ticket, you untie his tie and proceed to rub down his chest, slow and meticulously popping one button after another.

Before you could decorate his neck in pretty little hickeys and love bites, the car jerks to a stop, and he power strides to your door and opens it. He grabs you in his arms bridal style out of the vehicle.

You were surprised at how easy he made that look, especially with all of the extra fluff on your dress. He carries you into the threshold with ease, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

When Mingi blindly finds your room, he puts you down on your feet, spins you around, and begins to unzip your dress. He kisses under your ear and down your neck as your dress pools around your feet. He breaks away to rest his forehead on yours.

“As much I would love to pound you into the mattress right now, I would like for our first time as a married couple to be gentle,” he breathes out. You nod your head, and he slowly turns you around to unclip the black strapless bra, allowing your breasts to drop.

He returns his mouth back to your neck and softly twists your nipple between his fingers, eliciting tingles to run all over your body. As good as the feeling was, you remove Mingi’s hand and spin around to face your husband. You walk backward until the back of your legs hit the mattress and lean back.

MIngi crawls on top of you and slowly kisses you. You can feel the passion and love through it, causing you to shiver. Mingi, once again, pulls away from you to drag your black lace panties down your legs. He throws them across the room and stands from the bed, peeling away the dress shirt you opened in the car.

The shirt drops to the floor, and he begins to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor. The pants come next, along with the boxer briefs, and they pooled around his ankles. You bite your finger and lick your lips with lust-darkened eyes as you are being blessed with this private show.

Mingi returns to your V of your legs and brings your ankle to his mouth, leaving delicate kisses down the inner side of your leg until he reaches the inner thigh, where he leaves a bite – causing you to giggle and squirm a bit.

He lifts himself to where his penis grazes your labia. He rubs the tip along your slit and teases the tip inside of your core. “You ready, baby?” He sticks the reddened tip inside, just to pull it back out, and repeats this a couple times until you are a whining and moaning little mess. He finally pushes his dick past the tip and slowly moves into you, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You moan in relief and very, very, VERY slight pain due to his girth, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he is at the hilt, meeting you pelvis to pelvis. He doesn’t move for a second, trying to collect himself before he busts in you from the tightness of your honey pot. You shiver as he pants in your neck, leaving goosebumps wherever his warm minty breath hits.

You grind your hips around, signaling that you have adjusted to his size, and he moans out at the action. He begins to pump inside very slowly in and out of you, with his brows scrunched and his bottom lip being bitten.

You hear the squelching noises from his slow pace. When you started getting louder, Mingi moves a bit faster, seeing that you are slowly reaching your orgasm, and frankly, so is he. “Baby, I love you so much,” he mutters like a mantra as he helps you both reach new heights.

You two have made love before, but never to this extent. After every mutter, your heart from knowing that this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. You place your hand on the back of Mingi’s neck to kiss him, but before your lips could make contact, Mingi stops.

He licks the base of his thumb and places a firm pressure on your clitoris, and then kisses you, his tongue swirling around your own. You two are seeing specks of light under your eyelids from cumming so hard. It may not have been anything degrading, rough or intense in that sense. Still, it was absolutely beautiful joining souls with your lover.

~The Next Morning~

You wake up feeling floaty, like you are lying on a cloud. Your husband is asleep with his arm draped around your waist. As you face Mingi, his features are soft, and it looks like he is in bliss. You place your hand on his cheek and caress the apple.

When you are done admiring your husband, you carefully move his arm to his side to make breakfast. You are successful in not waking Mingi and hop out of bed, still naked from last night’s escapades. “Wow, it feels nice to say that,” you think as you grab your husband’s dress shirt and run to the bathroom to clean Mingi’s cum that has dripped down your leg.

~A few minutes later~

You are now in the kitchen, whipping up some waffle batter. The table is decorated with a nicely plated array of bacon and a bowl of freshly washed and cut fruit. You finish plugging in the waffle iron when your husband wraps his arms around your shoulders and spins you around.

He quickly lifts you on the counter. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” He says huskily from his morning voice. You try to reply with a greeting, but Mingi catches the words in your mouth. Your lips are smashed together from Mingi’s fervency, and his long and slender fingers start to move down to your hole.

“Oh my goodness, babe. You’re so wet for me.” He teased. You moan out while he rubs your entrance, spreading your slick up and down. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks when he pushes a finger in, causing you to scream in response. “Those weren’t proper words, but I’ll take it.” He responds while adding another finger in and drastically changing his pace. You cry out due to the incredible speed. Mingi looks up at you.

Your head is tilted back, tiny pants coming from your mouth, and hands grabbing the counter as if to ground yourself. Mingi lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth and adds another finger to add more lubrication and bring you closer to climax.

You start to squirm on the counter, which is now soaked in your fluids, and whimper softly. A telltale sign that you are almost there; you just need that one little push. Mingi kneels down to be face to face with your cunt, and he stares at your dripping core as if he was hypnotized by how well you are taking his digits.

A loud moan from you knocks him out of his trance, and he adds one more finger and starts to apply suction on your button. A blinding white light flashes behind your eyelids, and a fuzzy warmth roams all over your body.

You breathe heavily from your high, and Mingi slows his speed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. He slowly removes his fingers, causing you to whimper from overstimulation, and brings them to your mouth.

You immediately open your mouth to welcome in the appendages and begin to suck them as if your life depends on it. The spit dribbles from your mouth down your chin and along Mingi’s forearm. He gently pulls at your jaw to open your mouth and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow.” He growls, and you do not think twice about disobeying him. He returns to kiss you, mixing your natural taste with your juices and his tongue.

He pulls away, and your fucked out state is adorable: your eyes are dilated from here to Hell, saliva glistening your chin, your cheeks are heavily flushed, and your ass is drenched with your cum.

“If this is what I wake to every morning, I’m not complaining.” Mingi chuckles. “You didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.” You laughed. He looks with an eyebrow raised… “Oh, you meant actual food?” You nod your head.

“As long as I have you, I don’t think I’ll need anything else.” He cheesily says. “Yeah, sure, that’s not what your body will be saying.” You retaliate as you jump off the counter, cringing when you hear your butt peel off the corner from your juices.

Mingi laughs, grabs some paper towels to clean that. When he’s done, he washes his hands and proceeds to help you cook so you two can build the stamina to christen the rest of your home together. Well, christen is not the right word… more like fuck like rabbits until the morning light returns.

~~~~~

And there's the fic ✨ hope you enjoyed the read ✨ leave an ask and say hi or even follow me or reblog if you did

[sunrisefairy]

Cameras and crushes

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: Alcohol, small mention of death, pure fluffiness 

Summary: Y/N is used to being a background character someone you glaze over but never really notice. But more recently she longed for someone to see her, well she longed for a certain redhead to see her. 

A/N: Wrote this for @theweasleysredhair​​ writing challenge based off the prompt “You remembered?” very proud of this fic so i hope you love it as much as i do. All feedback is welcomed :))))

italics represent a flashback 

Taglist: send me a message if you would like to be added @hufflepuff5972​ @inglourious-imagines​ @klausdatprettyboi​ @georgeweasleyswhre​​

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Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. Growing up with 3 older and much louder brothers she was pretty happy with sticking to the sidelines, letting them be noisy and crazy while she kept to herself. Y/N grew up with mostly boys around her, her mother passed away when she was young. Y/N would always beg her brothers and her dad for stories of her mother, wanting to feel closer to her. Y/N’s dad would fondly retell memories of his beautiful wife, reminiscing on how witty and charismatic she was. He’d mention all the small, quirky things she would do which made him fall hard and fast for her. Y/N longed for that kind of love, she longed for someone to take notice of her in the way her dad did for her mum. Ever since Y/N was a little girl she yearned to be heard and seen but that proved difficult when you’re as shy and quiet as her.

Judging by most of the people in Y/N’s life she seemed to attract the boisterous types, guessing her quiet nature balanced them out. She loved her friends with her entire heart, even if their personalities were the opposite of hers, Y/N wouldn’t change their qualities if she could.

One of her friends, although still lively and vibrant as the others, also had a calm and tranquil side to him. George Weasley. Y/N had only known George for a few years having met at Lee Jordan’s 18th birthday 3 years ago. Somehow that night she had ended up climbing a tree with the tall redhead whom she had only met 30 minutes prior.

“How the hell did you get up to that branch?” Y/N mumbled, trying to figure out how to reach the higher branch where George Weasley was currently sitting, his long legs swinging back and forth as he chuckled at the girl below him.

“I used that branch sticking out there and then swung my leg up to get here.” George points to the branch to the girls left. 

Y/N grunts as she attempts what George said but huffs and pouts her lip feeling defeated, “you forget that I have little legs, unlike you Mr. giraffe.”

George rolls his eyes and stretches his hand out, “try again, I’ll help pull you up.”

Somehow, George manages to pull Y/N up and they sit comfortably next to one another up high in the tree. “There you go little bunny, don’t go falling off now.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the nickname wishing she had brought her cider up with her feeling very self-conscious and unsure of what to do her shaking hands.

The pair fall into a comfortable silence, watching the party goers below them gathered around a very intoxicated birthday boy chanting as he chugs another beer, “we love to drink with Lee cause Lee is our mate and when we drink with Lee he gets it down in 8…7…”

Their voices drown out as George gently nudges Y/N’s shoulder pulling her attention back to him, “soo, Y/N I hear you’re not much of the talker?”

Y/N blushes hard grateful for the lack of light outside. “No I guess not. Not many are interested in what I have to say.”

George smiles, his eyes not leaving the girl beside him, “well I am. Tell me something.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip nervously and looks back at the drunk crowd, “like what?”

George shrugs, he didn’t really mind what the conversation was about, he just wanted to hear the pretty girl speak. “I dunno, anything. Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

Y/N racks her brain for something to talk about, her palms getting sweaty from the long silence. Finally, she settles on something that always fills her with joy, her mother.

“Um okay so,” she starts staring at the leaves swaying in the tree, pushing down the anxiety. “Before my mother died she always had this film camera with her, my dad used to joke around saying that she loved this camera more than him,” Y/N chuckles quietly before continuing “She would take photos of the most random things, we have this big box back home filled with all the photos she ever took with that camera.” Y/N pauses, fumbling with her fingers. “I wish we still had the camera. You see after my mum passed, dad had to look after us 4 kids and with only one income coming in, it was pretty tough. For my 12th birthday I reeeaaally wanted a new bike, I’d complained for years that I couldn’t have my brothers old one because it was a gross boy’s bike. So, my dad sold my mums camera to get me a pink one. Kind of wish he didn’t because I would have loved to still have mum’s camera with us.”

Y/N finished and chewed her lip realising speaking about her dead mother probably wasn’t a great conversation piece, but any story of her mother always made her feel warm inside.

George hadn’t taken his eyes off her throughout the whole story, his heart fluttering when her eyes had lit up as she spoke about her mother.

“I’m sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear, it was the first thing that popped into my head.” Y/N mumbled.

George simply shook his head and replied, “you don’t ever have to apologise to me for saying what’s on your mind Y/N. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

For the first time in a while, Y/N felt seen.

Y/N’s phone dings and she pulls it from her pocket to read the message.

-Hey bunny :) so 4 tonight, we’re aiming to get to urs at like 7. does that work for u?

It was from George. Even if she didn’t have his number saved, she’d be able to tell it was from the redhead simply from his choice of nickname. Y/N hated when he called her bunny but George insisted on using the nickname ever since Lee’s 18th mainly because he thought it was cute not that he would tell her that.

Y/N’s heart thumped harder in her chest purely from the fact that George had texted her. Her crush on George had amplified over the years of knowing the boy, feeling both thankful and uneasy at the fact that he had so effortlessly slotted into their tight friendship group mainly because he was always around making Y/N a stuttering mess.

Y/N’s fingers fumble as she types out a response, it was her birthday today and all her friends we’re persistent in throwing her a party. They had agreed to a small gathering at Y/N’s place, Y/N didn’t want them to make such a fuss over it.

-Hey Georgie, 7 is perfect! Cant wait.

-See u then bunny, hope ur ready to get ur drink on ;)

-IDK, after the other weekend I dont think im ready to face alcohol again

-nope! no excuses from u, u only turn 21 once

Y/N chuckles at George’s message and goes back to tidying her house, ready for tonight.

~~~~

As soon as it hits 7pm her friends are barging through her front door lugging drinks.

Each of them greet Y/N giving her a hug and wishing her happy birthday.

“We’ll do presents later, first let’s get some drinks into us!” Angelina cheers as she starts to mix some deadly concoction. Alicia connects her phone to the speaker, the living room filling with music.

Y/N jumps as a voice pipes up from behind her, “happy birthday little bunny.”

She turns facing George as he places a brightly coloured wrapped box on the counter with the other presents. He opens his arms, engulfing her into a giant hug. Y/N wraps her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze, “thanks” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away looking up at his warm eyes. They stare at each other for a second before the moment is broken when Fred places something on Y/N’s head.

“A birthday tiara for the birthday girl” Fred states loudly, Y/N glances at the mirror hanging from the wall on her left sees a plastic silver and pink tiara perched upon her head.

“Oh god,” Y/N mumbles adjusting it slightly.

Lee shouts over the music, drawing everyone’s attention over to him. “Okay everyone, the ever lovely Angie has made us each a questionable looking but delicious drink to start the night. So get your butts over here and let’s get this party started!”

A few hours and many, many drinks later, everyone is huddled in the living room, sitting on the couches watching Y/N open her presents. So far, she had gotten some perfume from Angelina, chocolates and a gorgeous photo frame from Alicia and Fred and Lee had gifted Y/N with a bottle of wine and voucher from the little boutique at the corner of her street. Y/N’s cheeks were hurting from smiling so much and her heart swelled at the sweet gifts her friends had gotten her.

“Okay, only one left,” Alicia says, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Probably the best one,” Fred whispers to Lee.

“Of course it’s going to be the best one you idiot,” Angelina says as a matter of fact, overhearing the two boys.

George, who is sitting to Y/N’s right, hands over the brightly colour box, trying to hide his excitement and nerves. “Here you go Y/N, happy birthday.”

The box feels heavy in Y/N’s grasp as she places it in her lap tearing off the wrapping paper. Y/N glances around, noticing everyone’s eager eyes on her. She sees Angelina nudge Alicia’s side smiling at each other knowingly. Y/N furrow her brows, slightly confused then draws her attention back to the box. She ripped off the paper carefully and uncover a brown box, no hints as to what is inside.

“Oh my god, hurry up and open it the suspense is killing me!” Fred says impatiently, George whacks him across the head telling him to shut up.

Y/N take off the lid and immediately her mouth gapes open finally seeing what’s inside. She shakily lifts the film camera out of the box and hold it so gently as if it’s made of diamonds and gold.

Small tears prick in Y/N’s eyes, shocked and surprised at George’s gift, it looks exactly like the one her mother had.

She manages to squeak out a small, “you remembered?” referring to the first conversation they had 3 years prior.

George has a small smile etched onto his lips. “Of course I did, I remember everything you tell me. I take a lot of pride in knowing everything about you actually.” He says, puffing his chest out proudly.

“Yeah like what?” Y/N cradles the camera in her arms.

“Well,” George starts. “I know that you hate the smell tequila because it reminds you of your 18th when you spent most of the night by the toilet. I know that you can’t sleep if the room is dead quiet. I know that you love buying plants but can never seem to keep them alive. I know you never wear matching socks because you think it’s a fun way to spice up an outfit.” He finishes smugly.

Alicia and Angelina let out a small aww in the background reminding Y/N of the 4 other sets of eyes watching her and George right now.

“Well there’s one thing you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah? What’s that then?” George counters.

Y/N doesn’t know where she musters up the courage from to speak the next words, maybe from the alcohol buzzing through her body or finally being sick of keeping this to herself for the past 3 years. Whatever it may be, she’s rather proud of herself, ignoring the way her stomach churns.

“That I have a huge crush on you.”

She expected George to laugh in her face before rejecting her gently. What Y/N definitely didn’t expect was him to cradle her face in his large hands, pressing a sweet but passionate kiss to her pink lips. She squeaks in surprise before melting into the kiss, gripping onto his shirt tightly, scared he would slip away.

Much to Y/N’s dismay George pulls away from the kiss tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear, “no I knew that too.”

“Wha-how?” Y/N stutters.

The attention is pulled to Alicia as she begins to speak, “it wasn’t much of a secret babe. Everybody knew you were crushing on George. Can’t believe it took either one of you so long to do something about it.”

“Little Georgie here spent months trying to find that camera for you as a way to confess his undying love for you.” Fred reaches over and ruffles his twin’s hair who shoves him off.

“Yep, we were all so bloody excited for you to open his presents so you two can stop pining over each other.” Lee adds downing the rest of his drink then standing up. “Right, now the two love birds have finally confessed their feelings. Who’s up for a round of beer pong? Reigning champion here has yet to be defeated.”

“You’re on Jordan, that ego of yours has gotten large enough.” Fred challenges, everyone moving over to the table to set up for beer pong. Leaving Y/N and George alone on the couch.

George wraps his lanky arm around Y/N’s shoulder pulling her into his side, “I hope you’re enjoying your birthday bunny.”

Y/N grins widely, playing with her new camera before lifting it up and aiming it at George. “best birthday ever Georgie, thank you.” She squeezes the button down, snapping a picture of George who is staring at her like she’s the only person in the world.

Y/N is very content with being a background character, she’s quite used to it actually. But for once she doesn’t mind being the centre of someone’s undivided attention.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Alright alright alright

You’ve all been asking for it, so here it is! 

This will be (edit: HELLA) long and obviously spoiler-y, so everything is under a cut. 

Are you ready?

Before we get to it, I want to mention that for the sake of keeping things organized, I will NOT be talking about my AU (@ask-whitepearl-and-steven​) in this post. I want to just analyze the show as a viewer and a fan first. I’ll make a seperate post for AU-thoughts a bit later.

Without further ado:

EP 1: LITTLE HOMESCHOOL

This is a great way to open up the episode and show the changes through the lens of someone who has been a bit out of it for a while (we are all Cherry Quartz, fresh from the hiatus, aren’t we?) but I’m sorry, this post still takes the cake:

Okay, okay, back to the program.

“That used to be a loaded question...“

Right off the bat, Steven is SO much more confident about saying that he’s... HIMSELF! What a good feeling. I’m very proud of our boy. 

I love the name “Gemglyph” for the gem language! I’ll need to know who wrote these, though. And who the heck drew the diamonds? Hopefully it was BP. 

And I’m not the first one to point this out, but MORE ANIME REFERENCES!

Which can be seen as either a reference to the Chill Low-Fi Hiphop Beats to Study To OR Whisper of the Heart. 

And absolutely no one cares but something that caught my eye is the fact that they have an EARTH FLAG at Little Homeschool! How cool is that!

Earth 4ever!!! 

Off-note - I love how INVESTED they are in this conversation Pearl is having with Holo-Pearl.

Peak entertainment. 

I love Professor Amethyst and I love the random human who snuck in to apparently take lessons on Not Giving A Single Shit About Anything, Ever. 

And here we FINALLY are in the FUTURE

Where we FINALLY get Jasper as a functioning character

And 

She’s

SO DRAMATIC, I LOVE HER.

This is literally SO funny like she... she was just... laying on top of her house... under a blanket..... FOr WHAT? To stand up dramatically and throw it off when Steven inevitably paid a visit? 

Is that just what she dOES? 

“It’s FINE I don’t need any HELP, I’m FUNCTIONING, I’m just having a SELF CARE DAY OK”

Also I’m sorry but

Jasper: “It took forever to yank those puny green earthlings out of the ground.”

Steven: “You mean grass...?“

THIS. RIGHT HERE. is peak Jasper. 

It’s also curious how INVESTED Steven is in this:

“I’m TRYING to give you [a purpose]!“

Why are you... trying to do that, though? Isn’t the whole idea for gems to surpass their ‘purpose’ and just kinda... do whatever? Isn’t Jasper just kinda... doing whatever? 

I mean, sure, it’s not useful to anyone, but she seems relatively happy. Aside from. You know. The whole laying on rocks under blankets until she’s disturbed thing and-- okay, you’re right, maybe an intervention would be healthy. 

I’m not gonna talk at length about the rest of the episode - although I think it’s really good, I don’t know what I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. Jasper is definitely poking Steven’s buttons and rephrasing a LOT of what WHITE has said to Pink: “You surround yourself with inferior gems because it makes you feel better.”

And Steven REACTS to this. The taunt WORKS.

And yes, he gains some extra powers for it, but something tells me this AIN’T the only thing he will get. It feels like a two-edged sword. Like it’ll be his own downfall somehow....... maybe at the end of the series. 

Ashes to ashes.... hole to hole.

And oh wow I thought they were gonna bond but LMAO

“Consider your fight back there your first and ONLY lesson.“

Basically:

I love you Jasper.

EP 2: GUIDANCE

I LOVE YOU AMETHYST.

sHE’S doing SO much and she’s SO good at it!! Look at her!! Organizing stuff!!!! 

RUBIES IN SUNGLASSES. IN SQUARE SUNGLASSES. 

I need 20. 

And I also need 20 of Larimar because holy shit that’s hilarious. 

Larimar: “I want to hear the human screams forever.”

Steven: “Okay that’s kinda troubling.”

I love the reference to Monsters Inc here and I love the callback at the end of the episode when Larimar switches to Human Laughter to get her fill of that particular erm... need. 

And honestly the ensuing chaos is equally predictable and entertaining. 

I’m SO glad to know that Rubies are just... Like That and that actually Navy is not a deviation from the norm but rather a different flavor of the chaotic energy all Rubies naturally seem to possess. 

Amethyst is also super relatable:

“Ah yes, the fool comes crawling back. Come to beg for forgiveness, have you?”

In fact, the episode’s WHOLe HUMOUR is just very much My Brand

“Sometimes you save all the people but the rollercoaster still crashes into the ocean...... and that’s okay.”

Including the Running Gag that is Onion. Who... does not appear to have aged. At all. And that’s okay.

EP 3: ROSE BUDS

Okay where do I even begin with this one. Um.

I have to openly admit that I spent the majority of this episode wheezing with laughter. Let’s start with the Zoomans:

Who are CLEARLY STILL SUPER SALTY AT GREG ABOUT REJECTING THEM??? Which is hilarious. 

And also this paradise is fascinating in and of itself. 

But the next scene is basically where I started losing my shit.

Okay, okay, alright so. Uh. I have... a few questions.

Like Why. WHY. Does she look. SO MUCH like Rose? 

Clearly Rose Quartz differ in coloring and etc. But She literally looks. Like THE Rose. VERY explicitly. 

So here’s several options here:

1) Pink made Rose Quartz way before any of the Rebellion happened and Pearl just basically pigeonholed her into THIS specific Rose Quartz appearance because she (???) had a crush? Or somehow saw this specific Rose, thought ‘hot, i can make my sympathetic Diamond wear this exact costume and that would be EXCELLENT fanservice for ME’

2) Pink didn’t have any Rose Quartz until the Rebellion, and thereafter quickly decided ‘I need these gems as an alibi, so we’re just gonna make them” and she and Pearl basically inclubated Rose Quartz like a pokemon trainer hatching for a Shiny until they got one that looked Exactly Like That. 

3) There was no Thinking involved because this is Pink we’re talking about, and it was all just a huge coincidence for the sake of this Very Hilariously Uncomfortable Episode. 

While we ruminate on that, let’s look at some Relatable Reactions.

And here we have the holy trinity of “I have just seen the clone of my deceased parent/parental figure/lover.”

Featuring: Bonus ‘I’m Almost Over It’ Pearl

Also, I need y’all to make this into a meme:

For example:

Anyway, alright, alright. 

That relatable feel when your (hot) dead lesbian lover’s clone asks you if you’re okay after another one of the (less hot?) clones offers you a whole ass stick of butter to eat. 

And then you and your friends all hide in the bathroom to talk about your feelings:

Okay, the rest of the episode gives me FEELINGS and I love how hard Steven is trying, so I’ll just close it off with:

I LOVE THEM. Unironically, they are EVERYTHING I had hoped Rose Quartz would be. They’re SO MUCH like Rose herself - did she model her personality after them? Or are they just like her because she WAS like that, and they’re made from her essence? WHO KNOWS?! They’re adorable!

And the conflict between them and Steven is honestly so gooD! I don’t know if it’s completely relatable but I’m glad they ended up talking it out.

I wonder if we’ll ever see Her again... you know who I’m talkin’ about. 

Her....

I’m madly in love with Rose, ok, I don’t need a callout post. Just leave me be.

EP 4:  VOLLEYBALL

Alright, alright, alright.

OKAy,.... It’s fine. It’s FINE. I’m fINE. 

Confirmed: 8000 years. That’s. UH. A LOT? That puts our timelines quite a ways back. We kind of estimated as much, but still, it’s so jarring to think about. And PP is VERY casual about it. 

She’s also VERY casual about the injury.

“This is all Pink Diamond!”

It doesn’t seem like it bothers her to talk about it at all. She’s not even trying to keep it a secret. So I’m almost wondering - was there a connection to her being taken by White and the injury at all or not? 

She came to Steven to get healed - she clearly wants it gone. At the time she was injured, did Pink not even attempt to heal the injury? 

Follow up question: If she DID care, why didn’t she try to heal it?

Follow up to the follow up: Was it because she didn’t know she could? Or did she simply not have the time to (White removed her before she could)? 

When Steven goes pink, she gasps - but makes no further comment. It’s presumably because she’s seen this happen before. She doesn’t try to move away, weirdly enough - she asks him if everything is alright. Perhaps the context is too different for it to be triggering for her. Perhaps there’s more layers to it? HMMM. 

What follows is, perhaps, the SALTIEST we’ve seen Pearl since Greg rolled around.

“Did you come to compete?”

This is doubly curious to me because Crewniverse has previously explicitly stated that Pearl was NOT in love with Pink Diamond. She was in love with Rose. So if this is true, why would Pearl care about her place as Pink’s Pearl? She is supposed to be past all that, isn’t she? 

And yet as time goes on, the salinity grows exponentially. Alright, you two, I know you’re Pearls but tone it down with the sass. 

(Also, I’m sorry but I will NEVER call her Volleyball. That’s all. Bye.)

Also it’s worth noting that... PP is clearly VERY much in love with Pink.

This is, perhaps, where the lack of a grudge plays into it. She’s completely enamoured.

Moreover, she’s VERY casual about how she talks here. This isn’t exactly how one talks of their Diamond. This is how people talk about their romantic partners. She calls Pink silly, calls her ‘funny’. That’s not exactly a term of respect - it’s way more intimate than that. 

Also, did anyone else notice how, although CG Pearl’s gem is usually shaded in teal, it’s in Pink in this episode? VEEEERY subtle, Crew.

Also, we can’t quite see Pink Pearl’s expression fully here because her working eye isn’t visible, which makes it hard to get a read on things like

“I’m older than you.“ Is she just saying it casually? Or is she fully aware that she’s poking fun at CG Pearl? 

HI SHELL. ISN’T IT FUNNY HOW YOUR VOICE AND YOUR NAME ARE A SUBTLE NOD TO PORTAL, WHICH IS FORESHADOWING HOW BADLY THIS IS GONNA END. 

Meanwhile, Pearl continues to be in character.

“No need to be overly... attached.”

And this has nothing to do with anything but

she cute

Aaaand now it’s creepy again.

The rest of this is super important so let’s get to it:

“Oh, no. Pink did this.”

“What did you say?”

“It’s a funny story, really. Once, Pink got tired of asking Yellow and Blue for her own colony, so she went straight to White. Of course, White told her she wasn’t fit to run one... and well! That set her off.”

“Set her off? What are you talking about?”

“You remember how she was! With her destructive powers, throwing tantrums left and right! She had a scream that could crack the walls. She didn’t mean to hurt me! (giggle) I just happened to be standing too close to her that time and--”

And then Steven interrupts. 

We get more CG Pearl arguing for how wrong this image of Pink is to her. What CG Pearl knew was a totally different (or, well, same, but VERY changed) Pink. 

But what we have to prove our point is Steven himself. He rolls into the EXACT same state as Pink presumably did - and begins to over-use his powers. 

(This isn’t the first time we have seen him use this attack.)

The reactions from the Pearls are telling - this is clearly not Pink Pearl’s first rodeo with this type of Mood. 

And it’s important to note that Steven clearly didn’t direct any attack AT them. He simply yelled - and the whole dang place literally started to crack. There’s weight to the argument that possibly, Pink really DIDN’T mean to hurt her Pearl - that she was just collateral damage. 

Which doesn’t make it any better, obviously. Even if Pink had no direct intention of hurting her Pearl (and there are theories that Pink purposefully hit or threw Pink Pearl or somehow physically acted directly to damage her, which I was skeptical of) the result of it is still the same.

If you raise your voice and yell, even if you’re just yelling because YOU are hurt/have feelings, you might still hurt the people around you. If you throw a tantrum, even if your direct goal was just to let off some steam without aiming to harm anyone, whoever gets in your way is still the victim. 

And this is all very much On Brand for Pink’s timeline as we know it. We already knew this about her - we KNEW she tended to throw tantrums (like in the flashback on Jungle Moon) and that she was childish. The fact that she accidentally hurt her Pearl in the process because she had no self-control at that period in her life comes as no surprise. 

(Although it’s important to mention that perhaps hurting her own Pearl WAS the breaking point during which she finally realized how her emotional outbursts could have negative consequences on those around her.)

And this is a very beautiful message - even if Pink Pearl still doesn’t want to blame Pink for what was done to her (”But... she didn’t mean to!”) Pearl brings the point of it back around to her (”But you were still hurt!”) The point isn’t the person who did the hurting - the focus is on the victim and how they were affected. 

And the rest, I daresay, is history. 

I like the fact that they managed to still bring it back around to the main message: 

It isn’t about just “Pink was bad”. It’s about how she did bad things. And there were multiple sides to her - multiple stages. And the Pearls who knew her knew different sides of her - the side that didn’t know how to be a good person, who was selfish and childish and unrestrained... and  the side that was, arguable, too restrained. Who hated her own past, her own character and her own mistakes so much that she would rather bury them and keep secrets from everyone. 

And neither of those things were good, and neither were healthy, but they are a GREAT contrast to a GREAT character arc that is, arguably, still being unearthed. And we have so much more context for it all now. 

I, for one, can’t wait to see and discover more of Pink through Pink Pearl - no matter how ugly that side of her might be. I think it gives great perspective to her later growth. 

And if you ship the Pearls.. .well, I get why. 

Personally I’m not interested in it that way. Call me unromantic - I don’t think their relationship NEEDS to be shippy in order to be satisfyingly deep. I love the idea of them having a deep bond over this - a shared past, a shared experience, and gaining confidence through one another. 

Cheers and thanks for listening!

[sxfterhearts]

39. [9:18 pm]

➳ pairing: jinyoung x reader

➳ genre/warnings: the usual dose of fluff, office romance!au, accountant!jinyoung & lawyer!reader

➳ word count: 1,078 words

➳ summary: 39. “I like your laugh.”

➳ author's note: this is purely self-indulgent cos jy is my emotional kpop support boy 🥰 plus the song is pretty and i miss writing fluff!! enjoy~

➳ listen to: new light by NIve ♬

A half-eaten piece of butter and sugar bread. An emptied mug decorated with lipstick marks and dried stains of coffee. An abandoned maroon scrunchie, Jinyoung’s favourite, especially when it was tangled within your curled locks. Papers, papers, and even more papers littered all over what was once the third-floor meeting room table. Bits and pieces of sticky notes and ‘Sign Here’ flags in every colour of the rainbow stood out amongst the monotonous documents, resembling flicks of watercolour on an artist’s canvas. A web of cables connecting your laptop to its second monitor and to the power outlet hung haphazardly on the very edge, threatening to fall off the table.

And there you lay, in the middle of what you would call an organised chaos, with your head resting on an outstretched forearm. Jinyoung could already picture how your face would scrunch up in discomfort when you woke up, triggered by the pins and needles in your limbs. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his slacks, he walked further inside for a closer inspection of you in your natural habitat – slumped over a desk, exhausted, and surrounded by the work you loved so dearly.

Ever since high school, Jinyoung preferred numbers and account balances and general ledgers over words and legislations and cases. That was your forte. He could never understand how you willingly stayed up to skim through mountains of case materials without developing a head-splitting migraine. His head would spin and his eyes would go out of focus at the mere sight of your work. Not understanding was not the same as not accepting, though. Sure, if an executive offered him a million dollars to switch places with you, he’d politely decline, but Jinyoung was nothing but supportive of your career from day one.

That’s love, isn’t it? Two people will undoubtedly have their differences, disagreements, and misunderstandings. What’s most important, however, is that these two lovers can come to accept and embrace each other with their entire being. Jinyoung sees it as him doing his thing and you doing your thing during the day, yet coming home to each other during the night. He sees it as him chopping the vegetables and slicing the meat, while you fire up the pan and stir-fry the ingredients. Sure, individually you could make something decent enough to satisfy your hunger, but together… Together, you could create a hearty meal, a labour of love.

Tempted, Jinyoung sat down beside you as quietly as possible and faced you, mirroring your posture. While the two of you worked in the same building, there was never much of a reason or excuse to visit the other during office hours other than the occasional lunch or office-wide gathering. The opportunity to just sit with you and watch you was too precious to pass up.

So he did. He watched, mesmerised by the way the wrinkles on your forehead and the frown on your lips that you wore so often were ironed out completely; entranced by how your smooth skin contrasted with the glistening diamond pendant of your necklace, the one he got you for your last anniversary because you didn’t like promise rings; amazed by your lengthy eyelashes, your soft tresses, your chapped yet pink and utterly kissable lips.

Jinyoung wanted to kiss you, then. He missed the kisses you shared, even though you most definitely locked lips for quite a while when he joined you in the bathroom first thing this morning, still dazed and sleepy. He missed them for a whole other reason. He missed how he could feel your lips involuntarily rise to form a smile, which, although he couldn’t bear witness to due to his incredibly close proximity to your face, he was certain could light up his entire day. He felt his heart squeezing within his chest.

“I miss your happier self.” Jinyoung muttered to no one in particular. A hand reached out to brush against the edge of your lips with a feather-light touch, swiping away a trace of drool. “I like it better when you’re happy. I don’t like it when you’re sad, or stressed. I wish I could take all of that away for you.” His fingers were acting on its own accord at this point, stroking over the apples of your cheeks, soft and tender. “I like your smile. And I like your laugh, even though you sound like a dying seal most of the time.”

You stirred slightly, repositioning yourself to get more comfortable. His fingers halted immediately, eyes wide with alarm, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his whispered confessions. It reminded him too much of the time he first confessed his feelings for you, and you left him hanging for a full fifteen minutes to answer an urgent phone call for your boss.

“At least I can easily identify my girlfriend from her laugh when we’re out with friends…” Jinyoung continued his monologue, withdrawing his hand while grinning to himself.

A soft, annoyed whine emitted from your lips. You buried your face into your arm, curling your body inwards in a desperate search for warmth.

Perhaps you were cold, Jinyoung hypothesised. Reminding you to bring a cardigan or an extra layer of clothing was an integral part of his morning routine. His eyes scanned around the room but failed to find your knitted grey cardigan.

“Cold…” You complained, eyelids batting as you slowly woke from your nap. “Hmm? Jinyoung?”

A shiver ran through your body, forcing you to fold your arms inwards to compensate for the chilly air blasting out of the air-conditioner. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jinyoung, who was rushing to remove his blazer. He carefully placed it on your curled-up body and gave your shoulders a light squeeze before starting to organise the scattered papers.

“Why… How come you’re here?” You paused, letting out a yawn. “What time is it? Are you done for the day?”

He reached for your lame excuse of a sandwich and threw it out without a second thought. “I am, I packed up and came to check on you.”

Jinyoung shot down your pained expression at the wasted food with a stern look of his own, the one that made interns cower in fear. You knew better than to get intimidated, of course, and made a silly face at him. He shook his head at your silliness, poking your side as revenge. You squealed. “Move your butt, babe. Let’s get you home.”

[cherrywoes]

inferno.

𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀:

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗪𝗢. 𝘍𝘓𝘈𝘕𝘌𝘜𝘙.

— a person who strolls the city in order to experience it. “deliberately aimless.”

THE MORTAL WORLD was as he recalled it to be; wild, lush, and potent with life. The grass beneath his feet was cool and damp, as if there had been a light rain just seconds before he stepped out of the portal, and real. He could touch it with his fingers, feel the sunlight and energy coursing through its very veins, could feel the way the earth beneath him trembled at his touch, bowed against his power and immensity. He could pinpoint every human being on the planet down to their heartbeats, their individual thoughts and emotions, to a degree where he was certain his powers could rival even Lucifer’s, as glorious as his former brother had been.

He twisted a blade of grass between his fingertips, watching the pieces split and tear apart under the force, much like his soul and the darkness rolling like a thundercloud within him. His wings grew a steady black the longer he stood apart from his angelic soul, each feather turning more jagged, more rough, the sharpened edges growing dangerously serrated. His wings were no longer the slate gray he had sported all his life, proud of the line he toed when forever opposed both heaven and hell; they were now black as pitch, sparkling like oil in a field of water. He could even feel horns beginning to rise from the top of his skull, long, delicate things that curled around the back of his head and ended in points just above his eyes in a mimicry of a diadem.

The Nameless One was no longer an archangel, or any sort of being that existed previously. He was new; he was fresh from hell, born out of both light and dark, without a shred of divinity left within him—except maybe there was. A small spark, barely there, fighting against the evil within with all of its might, bent on surviving, existing in a world where it was unwanted.

“Who are you?” A man stepped out of the treeline. He crushed poppies and baby’s breath as he walked, uncaring of the tiny lives he had snuffed out. His hair was cropped short to his head in a style that the Nameless One had never seen before, and he wore clothing made of mixed fabrics, even shoes of bizarre color that sparked no memory within him. He was foreign, and yet he was not, for the Nameless One could smell the divinity on him, could smell Hell on him like a second natural scent, an odor of sharp citrus and brimstone. He was no more powerful than any other Second Sphere angel but could easily sit within the top of those ranks, for certain. “Answer me, Fallen One.”

Here was an angel the Nameless One did not recognize, but knew had participated in Lucifer’s crusade against God besides. He allowed the grass strands to flutter to the ground at his feet, wings—all six pairs of them—rolling in circular motions to ease the ache of centuries of torture from his shoulders and spine. While the scars on his body were forever healed, the pain within continued to linger, dragging down his coil of flesh and bone until he was almost mindless. The gravity of this world pulled upon him like chains, made him ache, made him hurt, made him feel heavy in many ways that he could not put a name to but knew existed.

“You’re an archangel,” the man continued when the angel offered no answer to him. His expression appeared almost permanently angry, or stern, and he took a step closer to him, eyes flickering over his wings and features. “But you’re not Lucifer, and all of the others are already here. So... you can only be the Nameless One. Am I right?”

“Congratulations.” The Nameless One’s voice was a multi dimensional purr, shaking the atoms around them and causing the air to physically vibrate. The flowers wilted near his bare feet, succumbing to the raw power that filtered off of his skin in harsh waves; the trees bowed towards him; the mountains trembled. “Your assumption is correct…” He paused, flicking through the other angel’s memories with razor sharp metaphysical claws until he found the right one. “Iraphel.”

“It’s Iwaizumi now.” Iraphel, or Iwaizumi, crossed his arms. At the Nameless One’s questioning look, he added,”To exist here, we must have human names. You’ll have to choose one if you’re going to stay here.”

The archangel turned his head back to the portal, sealed off and permanently closed. No other would be going through it if he had the choice; keeping Lucifer in Hell was the best opportunity he would have at being free of his beliefs and doctrine before armageddon. And Lucifer would be loathe to part with his divinity, besides, he assumed, still too caught up in heaven, in their Father, who he so desperately loved and despised in the same breath. He would not be going back to that, to an angel who regretted his decision and affirmed it by the very existence of Hell—no, he was too proud, and he had already betrayed his friend once. A second time would be unforgivable.

“I have no intention of returning to Hell.” The Nameless One rubbed his wrists where he could still feel the imprints of the cuffs used to bind him in Cocytus. He would likely never get rid of the phantom pains, but it was a small price to pay for such freedom, where God had turned a blind eye and relied on humanity’s sense of morality to provide the right path for them. “No, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Right… Well, you’ll still need a name.” Iwaizumi’s eyes darted up and down his physical form, still covered in the inhuman toga given to him in hell. “And normal clothes—”

In a brief moment, the Nameless One was clothed. He had mimicked the outfit of a human nearby, had chosen him at random, and altered the outfit to fit his human body as he pleased. It was strange to wear so many layers; a pair of undergarments, pants, a shirt, and brown overcoat that ended just at his knees. Even the shoes would take getting used to, flat and close toed and restricting. He had learned much from that human just by browsing through his mind, but it was such a small part of a vast world, he was beginning to learn. “Is this acceptable?”

Iwaizumi blinked. “Yeah, but… I guess it’s fine. Now you just need a name.”

Another facet of humanity plucked from an unknowing human; he paired one with another that seemed reasonable, disliking several of the meanings that came from some of them, and came up with one he liked, to a degree, and felt he could live with for some time if needed. “Oikawa Tooru.”

“Did you get that from someone else?” Iwaizumi inquired. At Oikawa’s nod, he shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “Just how powerful are you?”

“I am unsure.” Oikawa shrugged and knelt down to pluck a dead flower from the ground. It dissolved in his hand at the touch, crumbling into a fine black powder that smelled just like Cocytus—icy and unforgiving. He allowed it to fall to the ground with the strand of grass in a mimicry of snow, each individual flake following its own path just as he would. “Separating from my divine soul has amplified my powers. It will be some time yet until I am able to control them properly.”

“Well… Shit.” Iwaizumi exhaled a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. He rocked back on his heels, tilted his head to the sky, and groaned. “Right, huh, okay—let’s get you out of here. We can deal with the rest when it comes up.”

Oikawa held out a hand towards where he knew the city was. “Lead the way, Iwaizumi.”

For the next several years, Oikawa—his identity as the Nameless One shed from his mind like an old skin—roamed the city of Tokyo and the entirety of Japan in search of knowledge. From farming to technology, he wanted to know it all, to learn about this world his Father coveted so much, to know if he could learn to love it as strongly too—but instead, he found something else. Something equally as precious, a diamond among moissanite.

A human girl.

“Oikawa, look!” Tiny hands reached up to shine a reflective piece of multicolored glass up to the sun. Rays of blue, red, pink, and yellow reflected upon soft flesh, the corner of a [color] eye, and fewest strands of [color] hair shining underneath the light. “Look what I made today! Isn’t it pretty?!”

“Of course it is!” The archangel peered over her shoulder to look up through the glass with her. It was a depiction of an angel, ironically enough, dressed in a white gown and a golden halo hovering above its head. Interestingly, it looked much like Lucifer, with dark hair and blue eyes, though that had to have been an artistic choice and not because the child knew what the Morningstar truly looked like. “Can I keep it, [Name]-chan?”

Over the years, he had picked up on the language, dialect, and social mannerisms. It had allowed him to form a personality that was more acceptable among humans, most of them unused to the formality that angels had ingrained into their very existence. Iwaizumi had helped him along in that regard, forcing him to use casual slang, contractions, even made him learn other languages, although any language other than Japanese or Spanish was difficult for him.

Suspicious [color] eyes flickered up to regard him. “You promise you’ll keep it safe?”

“I promise.” As an afterthought, he held out his hand and stuck out his pinkie. “Pinkie promise! I’ll keep it safe, or you can hit me if I haven’t.”

In that time, he had come across her—[Name] [Surname]. A little orphan girl with no parents, no home, not even a penny to her name. It had been an accident that he met her in the first place, injured from a fight with an angel that had left him grounded for some time. She had tended to him as best as she could, but his wings just weren’t safe enough for childish hands to heal, and since then, he had a fond spot for her despite Iwaizumi advising otherwise. Human connections were dangerous, he’d told him, especially ones that came from the heart.

But, Oikawa mused, every time his best friend shook his head at him when he returned from the orphanage, what Iwaizumi didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“How will I know if you haven’t though?” [Name]’s nose scrunched cutely in thought. “I’m at the orphanage all the time and you don’t live here.”

Oikawa hummed in thought. [Name]’s orphanage, centered in the middle of Eden, the safe realm that the first Fallen to crawl out of Hell had created to hide them from the world, was only a few blocks away from Oikawa’s apartment. While humans were allowed to enter Eden, they could never leave once they learned of their existence, and if they still wanted to, then their memories would be wiped clean. It was likely that was what would happen to [Name] one day, if she was adopted.

“You’re right.” He nodded his head in agreement. Then, with a flourish of his hand, he produced a brilliant white light in his palm—bright, but also dim, and full of color. [Name] gasped at its beauty, reaching for it with greedy hands. “No, no! This is part of my soul. You can’t just grab it like that, it’s too fragile.”

She frowned at the scolding, but dropped her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. Just be more careful,” Oikawa advised.

He had been waiting for the right moment to do this. Iwaizumi had often told him he needed to find a safe place to put the remnants of his divine soul, and what better place than a human he was fond of?

“Here.” The bright light floated above his hand for a moment before shooting into [Name]’s chest. Her hands flew to her collarbone, patting the area, and she showed no sign of pain; but Oikawa could sense her like a beacon now, a human with a hint of divinity within her. “You can keep this; as long as you never break it, I’ll make sure to never break your glass.”

The smile that erupted upon her face was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

“Thanks, Oikawa!”

one | masterlist | three

taglist: open.

[gay-cartoon-stan]

Why the “Corrupted Steven Theory” is more likely than it seems at first

Okay, you probably think that this theory is very unlikely, and it won’t happen in Steven Universe Future. But hear me out, I thought so at first as well, just like I thought the “Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond”-Theory was a stretch. But guess what? It turned out to be true, so I gave this theory the benefit of doubt and now I’m convinced that it could become canon as well!

In the beginning, I was unsure but intrigued by this theory and read some posts. Steven Universe Future means a lot to me, I related to Steven Universe a lot already and kind of grew up with it in the past few years. Now, seeing how Steven deals with deeply rooted problems and his mental health issues hit close to home for me. So, obviously, I searched through the tags very much.

Unfortunately, the actual theories with proof are scattered all around Tumblr with almost no coordination, even within “#corrupted Steven theory” that is full of fan art (which I enjoy a lot btw!!). And I had to search through a lot of posts to see the full picture of possibilities this theory has, so I decided to make a master post for you guys. It’s not that much of a stretch when you put all of it in one big master-post, for those who don’t want to search for as long as I did.

WARNING: This will be a very long post!

Now first off, I heard many people say that this would be too dark for the show. And while this is a children’s show, Steven Universe already had way darker episodes. Here are some examples:

Previous Theories in Steven Universe

I searched for some previous theories for the original Steven Universe cartoon and pulled up a few popular theories from the Cartoon Network YouTube videos. Let’s start off with some of them that were proven wrong later on in the series.

3 Theories that were more based on feeling right than proof and turned out to be wrong

-         Gems start out as babies

-         Sardonyx’s identity

-         Ruby is blind

First off, everyone assumed that Gems are quite similar to humans. Now, these theories were created in the first season of Steven Universe, when we didn’t know a whole lot about Gems, yet. Rebecca Sugar started the show by telling us to “expect the unexpected” like expecting to have Gems be quite similar to humans.

When we heard of a new voice actor, most immediately assumed it to be a new gem or a fusion of new gems. But instead, it was Sardonyx, a fusion between garnet and Pearl. Rebecca likes to explore new possibilities by combining already established things: Like making a completely new character out of two well-known gems.

I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen in Steven Universe Future, this epilogue will deal with big concepts that we already know. It would make no sense to have something entirely new in the epilogue, when we already have some unanswered questions left, like the true nature of corruption.

5 Theories that were based proof rather than “feeling canon” and turned out true (even though they seemed like a stretch)

-         Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond

-         There are multiples of every gem

-         All monsters were once gems

-         Ronaldo’s theories are right

-         Garnet is a fusion

Theories like the one of Pink Diamond were very unpopular and I’m sure almost no one believed Ronaldo in the beginning: they were unpopular or controversial at the time. But all of these theories turned out true, so don’t just shoot down a theory because it seems unlikely at first. On further examination, theories that seem like a stretch at first, actually, make a lot of sense.

Foreshadowing and symbolism about Rose Quartz actually being Pink Diamond were already planted in the beginning, look at the first song about Cookie Cat by Steven in the very first episode for example.

So, even if it seems unlikely that Steven will become corrupted in Steven Universe Future, that won’t stop Rebecca from making it canon. But if she planned it, there had to be a lot of proof for that, too. And there is a lot that could be interpreted as a connection between Stevens, his mental health and corruption!

That brings us to my next point:

 Steven’s Mental health

In the limited series, Steven is shown to bottle up his feelings a lot and has developed some harmful coping habits, as shown in Episode 10: “Prickly Pair”.

Steven is already known for not dealing with his own problems, trying not to think about them instead of being honest about how bad it feels so he can move on, as shown in “Mindful Education”, which was the fourth episode of Season 4, so even before the “Wanted” and “Diamond Days” arcs.

There even is a whole episode revolving around Amethyst trying to help Steven with his feeling about his mother after it’s revealed that she actually is Pink Diamond, but he just keeps reflecting and wants to help her instead.

Now, the synopsis tells us that “as he runs out of other people’s problems to solve, he’ll finally have to face his own” which confirms again that he didn’t deal with his own emotions, yet. So, now he feels lost because he feels useless now in addition to years of undealt trauma. Just look at his monologue in the last episode!

But why didn’t he deal with his own mental well-being yet? Because he’s scared because all of his experience in the last years were very traumatic for a teenager? Not to mention that he wasn’t even 14 when the series started off. Even the Crystal Gems, who are supposed to be way more mature than him, struggled multiple times within the series. Garnet even split up two times.

He’s scared because he doesn’t know what to do now that he can’t help the people around him anymore, everyone around him changes for the better and knows how to help themselves and what they want to do in the future. Everyone except Steven.

 Steven vs Steven

All of his human friends change way faster than he can deal with, so one would think that he could at least relate to the Gems with the struggle of accepting change, right? NO! He’s growing up, he changed in the last couple of years. And while it’s too slow for the humans around him, it’s too fast for the Crystal Gems since they’ve been around for thousands of years.

Even though the whole universe is changing, he still has problems as a hybrid between gems and humans. He struggled for years to fit in with the Gems, while he was always too much “Gem” to be understood by fully humans. For example, even his best friend and his dad don’t include him as a “human being” in Season 2, where he was just starting to be respected by the Gems as a part of the Crystal Gems. So, he didn’t really fit in with either species even back then. Out of stress, it caused him to clutch his gem, also because it is the thing that will always set him apart from other humans.

For years, he could at least relate to Amethyst. They shared a kindred spirit as fellow "worst Gems" who, in Steven's words are "not like anybody". Now even she found her own personal purpose while he is as confused as ever.

 Becoming like someone “bad”

Not only that, in his attempt to be nothing like his mother, since he still has a complicated relationship with her (see: the whole Episode “Rose Buds”), he slowly becomes more and more the person she used to be. He doesn’t want to confront that, but he’s still scared of his new powers that remind Volleyball of Pink Diamond.

But it’s not only her, but Steven also begins to act like the diamonds in general: He ordered people (like Amethyst and Jasper) around.

Just like the punishment by Blue Diamond for Pink, Steven imprisoned Cactus Steven (a metaphor for himself, his mental health, and his problems) with barely enough light to survive. Both Pink Diamond and Cactus Steven didn’t know how to act any better. Cactus Steven was just learning from the only role model he got, but Steven was too angry to try to understand. In Steven Universe, he even tried to understand a literal monster and befriended Centipeetle aka corrupted Nephrite, but now he can’t even communicate with his own creation, sentient humanoid cactus.

He spent years trying to fight the ways the Great Diamond Authority worked, but now he takes after them. And whether he is ready to confront this or not, he can’t help but see how he changes to a person he never wanted to be.

 No Control

He just got new powers that seemingly only Pink Steven really had control over and struggles even more than before. Steven could do a similar bubble, but never actually did it in a symmetrical way or in the shape of a dome, like his gem half could do seemingly with ease.

But since his powers are connected to his emotion (which react to his new and old problems) it’s no wonder that he’s getting out of control. This new pink side of him is linked to extreme stress (or anger) and using powers only his fully-gem half could do before.

We already saw him losing full control over his bubble (trapping someone) and shapeshifting/ageing, where he almost died.

In the first season, he trapped Connie in his protective bubble, which only dissolved after he talked with her. He subconsciously trapped her in there because he didn’t want her to leave again before he got the chance to give the bracelet back.

He lost control over his body a few times, for example, a few episodes after Bubble Buddies when his age-shifting powers get introduced. In a similar matter as before, his gem reacts to his feelings (here: his mental age) and acts accordingly. He almost dies in So Many Birthdays and Cat Fingers because of it.

He already ended up trapping his friends in Episode 9 because of his new powers in connection to emotions. In Season One, he trapped Connie in his bubble in a similar matter.

Next, he could be transforming his problems in himself externally again. We already saw that trauma inside of a gem can manifest in Volleyball as it was explained by the cracked eye.

The creature could be an apparition, something Steven sees in dreams or hallucinations, rather than a physical manifestation at first, but most of the issues in Steven Universe, even if they’re just emotionally, evolved to become something physical. But even though this can be done in a couple of ways, corruption would make sense in Steven’s case.

 Corruption

Extreme emotional distress is linked to corruption as it seems to speed up corruption’s effects. Both Jasper’s and Centipeetle’s mental state affected the corruption process. As the bodies of Gems are mental projections, the bodies of corrupted Gems are a reflection of how damaged their minds are. Corruption’s damage is mental rather than physical, at least at its core.

Just like their emotions affected their body, Steven’s powers got worse under stress. In Steven Universe Future, his mental health is worse than ever, so if he ever got corrupted, it would be in this epilogue series. He’s getting out of control form when he’s distressed or under extreme stress more than ever.

There are no gems corrupted on Homeworld due to the lack of a Diamond blast. But even the other diamonds don’t understand the true nature of corruption completely, they didn’t even know that they corrupted these gems.

But we, the audience, already know a couple things: Second-hand corruption can occur to a non-corrupted Gem through fusion with a corrupted one, while Nephrite described it as a "song" and remembering this seemed to be what triggered her to revert into her corrupted form.

Corruption is linked to the mind of the gem and needs at least one diamond. Steven, who is a diamond, can probably corrupt other gems or himself without meaning to do so. If he loses control of the corruption-powers as well, it could very well be that he ends up accidentally corrupting himself.

But without addressing his issues, he won’t be able to reverse the effects of his subconsciously used gem powers. Pink Steven always worked this way in the past. His gem half reacts to the wishes from Steven’s human half very directly, like trapping all of his friends. And he treated his cactus-self badly, so also harming himself isn’t that far off. He already fought himself quite violently in Steven and the Stevens (which was Season One), but now he got even more problems with himself directly. What if his gem half reacts on that?

 Corruption forms

While Steven’s trauma could manifest in a couple of ways, there are some similarities between the worm-like creature from the intro and Steven.

Of course, it doesn’t completely look like Steven, but consider how humanoid this creature’s face is in comparison to other corruptions in Steven Universe. Let’s take a look at the heads from the others in the corrupted and uncorrupted form.

Nephrite’s corrupted head has a flowing, light-cream coloured mane immediately behind her head that looks like her previous hairstyle. Aside from that and her colour scheme, her body completely changes because of corruption.

Because of the corruption Jasper got spikes from multiple areas of her body now, but her hairstyle only changed to a mane around her neck and she kept the same skin tones.

Ocean Jasper, similar to all Jaspers, kept her colour scheme (aside from corruption marks) and hairstyle/colour even while corrupted.

Larimar’s head always had spikes on top, even though they became more. She still has her blue tones, even though it got a bit darker. Her body changed quite a bit and she got a lot bigger.

So all in all we can say that a gem becomes bulkier and bigger while growing spikes. The placement of the gem barely changes at all. The colour scheme doesn’t really change, but the gem can have corruption marks.

I strongly believe that this thing a corrupted gem, since a completely alien species in the last act of the show makes no sense. Especially with the premise that this epilogue would focus on loose ends and Steven himself.

 Similarities between the Creature and Steven

Only this corruption has a human-like face shape and nose. But humans can’t corrupt, except for Steven. He has the same nose, a softer version of the face shape and is always drawn with 5 hair curves. Instead of that, this creature has 5 horns instead of Steven’s usual curls.

Another dominant feature of this creature is the mouth shape. It’s a sharper version of a squiggly mouth that’s usually drawn when the character is stressed/worried. In the original series many characters were drawn with a mouth like that, but the only character who is frequently seen using a mouth like that in Steven Universe Future is Steven himself. Also, it is drawn quite sharp.

Besides, both Cactus Steven and the Watermelon Stevens are known for a squiggly mouth form like that.

The Watermelon Stevens needed time to even become alive, and even more time until they got a mouth. After Steven send them away and they had to build their own community, they were drawn with a sharp mouth.

Cactus Steven had a mouth, to begin with, it was very curvy drawn. But as the episode went on and Steven got more aggressive with him, it got sharper.

Let’s move onto the body from the creature. It is massive, even bigger than White Diamond, and has spikes leading down his back. A gem would have to be very powerful, to begin with, to be able to become this big and spiky. Our Jasper, for example, was way bigger and har way more spikes than the average Jasper soldier.

Based on the size, I thought about a corrupted White Diamond at first, especially with her pink hue at the end of Change Your Mind. But she’s already on the intro screen, also pink, and she has her gem glowing on her forehead while the creature doesn’t have a visible one. That makes it seem more mysterious like something is surprising to discover here.

Every gem except a diamond had the chance to be corrupted in the original blast. Steven’s gem placement would make sense, too, since you can’t see the stomach of the monster.

Not just the shapes, the colours are similar as well. When Steven reacts to stress, he gets angry and has a new, pink colour scheme. Even outside of turning pink, there are a lot of pink hues used in the scenes that include him.

If he corrupts, it could get a bit darker similar to Larimar’s/Nephrite’s corruption form. And the colour scheme of the creature is a dark pink instead of purple without the blue, dark tint of the intro scene. We can see that if we look at Jaspers original colours and her skin tone in the intro.

 Possible Foreshadowing / Symbolism

The body of the monster is full of spikes that resemble rose thorns. Roses were symbolism of Rose Quartz in Steven Universe. Now it could represent Steven’s internal insecurities about his mom since those are a big part of Steven Universe Future.

Like roses, horns and spiked were used throughout the original series. I’ve seen a lot of people point out Steven’s caterpillar sleeping bag, especially since the creature seems to have a caterpillar-like form. Also, honourable mentions are the horns in An Indirect Kiss and Steven’s design in Future Boy Zoltron looks very similar to the corruption in the intro.

As I already mentioned, Steven lost control at the beginning of the original series since his powers were new to him. His shapeshifting powers got dangerous and he ended up trapping his friend Connie. In Steven Universe Future he got new powers again and loses control again, but just ended up trapping his friends and lost control over his dome-thingy.

If it will be like the original series, he will lose control over his body, too. Next, he would be transforming his problems in himself externally again, just like Cactus Steven ended up as a “monstrous version” of himself.

Steven ended the Great Diamond Authority but can’t seem to defeat a cactus. That’s because Cactus Steven is a living metaphor for Steven himself, his mental health, and his problems. He can’t deal with his own feelings reflected back at him and gets hit in the face by it. Literally.

Another metaphor for Steven is the plushie by Onion in A Very Special Episode, that resembles cookie cat mixed with Steven in a creepy way. Cookie cat was a very early symbol for the backstory of Rose / Pink Diamond and two halves of Steven. It could even move without being moved by Rainbow’s umbrella. A plushie was already an allegory for corruption and it’s most likely is a reference to Garnet’s explanation of corruption: “It’s sort of like if MC Bear-Bear didn’t tear the fabric of his arm, but the fabric of his mind.”

The biggest plot twists in Steven Universe was predicted by Ronaldo early on, all of his big theories except People (Snake People) turned out true. He was convinced by the Great Diamond Authority theory after he saw the diamond on the USA dollar bill. Before that, he believed in Sneople. Snakes are on the other side of the bill. I think that Sneople are supposed to be corrupted gems.

A few episodes in, Aquamarine and Eyeball-Ruby demanded that Steven should destroy his home, bubble his friends, and burn Little Homeword to the ground. Steven didn’t want to do that and won the fight with the gems against Bluebird, but later both of those events happened anyway. So, that may have been foreshadowing to future episodes when Little Homeschool actually gets destroyed. And that could happen if Steven actually self-corrupts and becomes the massive creature from the intro.

The last important thing for possible corruption foreshadowing was that Nephrite described it as a "song". There is a lot of association between corruption and music. It’s clear Steven loves music a lot and deals with heavy themes mostly through songs. Most gems like Peridot didn’t even know what music was at first.

 Plot possibilities

All in all, it wouldn’t make sense to introduce something completely new now. Instead, the show would deal with big concepts that have already been established in a new way.

Self-corruption could be a plot device to represent his current struggles with mental state. It would make sense in the way Steven Universe functions but also for storytelling in Steven Universe Future.

Now, he has to deal with problems he accidentally created himself along the way. He has to deal with his feelings and finally sort them out. But that won’t happen until something drastic happens.

If Steven gets to a point where he corrupts himself, he will need help from others. And the person who could help him the most through that was Connie. She was always there for him, especially in the moments where he struggled with himself.

That would explain Connie’s lack of screen time when she plays a major role later on. If the focus lays on Steven and Connie, they probably get together, too. The Crewniverse teased their relationship already a lot and after de-corrupting Steven, there would be a perfect opportunity for making them canon.

   “After saving the universe, Steven is still at it, tying up every loose end. But as he runs out of other people’s problems to solve, he’ll finally have to face his own.”

After all those Seasons in the original series, this epilogue could show how Steven deals with his problems and that you can’t always blame your problems on someone else. Just as Pearl said once: “[Humans] want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.”

 Other theories that are possible and/or popular right now

-         Steven will leave Beach City at the end of Steven Universe Future

-         Steven loses an eye

-         Steven-fusion will split up

 References or sources? (and a few others, but I can’t find them anymore so rip me)

https://novantinuum.tumblr.com/post/189151877094/have-you-seen-the-leaked-trailer

https://novantinuum.tumblr.com/post/188153524489/on-the-corruptedsteven-theory

https://novantinuum.tumblr.com/post/189304112304/novantinuums-corrupted-steven-theory

https://novantinuum.tumblr.com/post/189560459059/find-your-center-your-very-core-remember-your

https://backinbizmuth.tumblr.com/post/189991650603/su-mini-theory-steven-will-corrupt-himself-after

https://drawloverlala.tumblr.com/post/188219448551/hehe-about-the-corrupted-steven-theory-that-he

https://sal108.tumblr.com/post/189160278143/so-about-that-suf-promo-that-leaked-on-steven

https://alexorcism.tumblr.com/post/189801984533/look-im-just-saying

https://lifeiskorrasami.tumblr.com/post/189417484385/ever-noticed-that-pink-also-has-the-horn-spike

https://gay-cartoon-stan.tumblr.com/post/189928744648/is-no-one-but-me-concerned-that-steven-looks-more

https://badartbysomeguy.tumblr.com/post/189928770039/so-cactus-steven-is-spouting-all-of-stevens 

https://somelazyassartist.tumblr.com/post/189688736598/wait-hold-up

https://viibecheeck.tumblr.com/post/189676375245/stop-it-rebecca-what-are-you-trying-to-say

https://celly-does-art.tumblr.com/post/189982116768/some-of-yall-i-dont-think-steven-is-going-to

https://unexpectedchair.tumblr.com/post/189928860906/corrupted-steven-theory-whos-going-to-be-able-to

[authorialarcanist]

Gracidea Blossom Chapter 1: It All Starts Naoe

(Pokémon Diamond, Pearl, & Platinum x Little Busters!)

Mirror Links: AO3, Pokécommunity, Spacebattles

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Previous - Next

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Gentle strains of music float across Hearthome. Kricketune are singing on Route 212, and the music drifts in to harmonize with the chirping of Starly. This is what every morning sounds like in ‘the city where hearts touch each other.’

Sunlight filters through the window of an apartment at the southern end of town. Within is a bed, with a boy curled up in it. At his bedside is a small potted plant, a miniature tree with three yellow spots in front. It tapers off to three small branches on top, each sporting a green sphere on its end.

When the sunbeam crosses Riki’s eyes, his face wrinkles up and he blinks himself awake with a yawn.

A few minutes later, Riki steps through an open doorway into the apartment’s combination living room/kitchenette. He pulls a frozen breakfast out of the freezer, and it’s just as he’s finished setting the microwave to thaw it that the potted plant walks into the kitchenette on stubby brown legs.

“Morning, Sly,” Riki calls back to his Bonsly as he sets out a bowl of food for it. He turns back to the microwave to wait.

He’s halfway through his breakfast when he hears a noise pounding on the apartment’s door. Leaving his food at the counter, he opens the door to greet his best friend.

Masato Inohara is a tall, buff young man with blue eyes and spiky black hair. He’s wearing a red T-shirt and jeans, and a red bandanna is wrapped around his forehead.

“You’re finally up, Riki! Kengo and Rin have already gone to the park!”

“Already?” Riki glances at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s not moving. His face falls. “I forgot to set my clocks after yesterday’s power outage, didn’t I…”

“Ah, well!” Masato grins. “No use crying over a tipped Miltank!”

Riki pauses midway through throwing on a blue jacket. “…What?”

“It’s an idiom!”

“Masato, that’s crying over *spilled milk!*”

“What? When I asked, Kengo said I could use it that way! That bastard, he’s probably thinking ‘ha, that idiot Masato was stupid enough to think people cry about tipped Miltanks, and besides, he already makes a fool out of himself in front of everyone every day,’ isn’t he!”

“No, no, no, he probably just thought you meant spilled milk and told you what that meant instead…” Riki sighs as his friend works himself up into a misunderstanding. Well, that said, every day is certainly energetic…

Forgetting his half-eaten breakfast, Riki grabs a small cooler and calls for his Pokémon to follow him. The two humans and one Bonsly make their way out through the hall to the elevator. Buildings in Hearthome are built with ramps and elevators in place of stairs wherever possible, to make sure they’re accessible to wheelchairs, strollers, and small children and Pokémon alike. By the time they reach the ground floor and step outside, the sun is already high in the sky. The breeze is pleasantly warm as they make their way through Hearthome and to Amity Square’s eastern gate.

Masato pulls out a Pokéball. “Go! Biceps!” With a flash of light, a Machamp is filling the available space of the passage. It’s a large, humanoid Pokémon with grey skin, yellow frills on its head and a yellow beak, a championship belt around its hips, and four muscular arms. “You ready to take a walk?”

*Fweeeet!* A whistle blows, and the gate attendant steps in front of them. “You know the rules! Machamp isn’t a permitted Pokémon in the square!”

“That’s unfair! Amity Square is for cute Pokémon, and my Biceps is plenty cute!” At that the Machamp strikes a pose, one arm up on either side and the other down, muscles bulging. “Look, Riki! Don’t you agree? Aren’t those the cutest muscles in the entire world?”

*No, by all accounts, you’re the one who’s being unreasonable…* Riki chuckles sheepishly, sweating under the attendant’s disapproval. “Masato, you know that’s just the phrasing they use… Biceps is a big Pokémon, you know? Even though he’d never hurt anybody, the park still has to make sure that only small and weak Pokémon are around, in case little kids provoke them…”

Man and Machamp sigh in unison, and Masato withdraws his Pokémon with a flash of red. “Ugh… Why do you have to be so reasonable, Riki? Fine! We’ll just have to get in our exercise later, I guess!”

Riki bows a hasty apology to the attendant as they pass into the park. Amity Square’s eastern entrance leads up to an elevated rocky area looking down on the western half of the park. Several small structures modeled after ancient ruins are available for children to play in. Up a few ramps at the far side of the area, a young man in a blue hakama is making training swings with a bamboo sword. He has white hair and a serious expression. Several children are watching him, fascinated.

“*KENGOOOOOOOO!*” With a roar, Masato runs at him, Riki following behind in a panic to stop his friends from fighting. “You told me I could use ‘no use crying over a tipped Miltank’ to mean that what’s done is done! I just made a fool out of myself in front of Riki because of you!”

“Hmph.” Kengo plants his training sword in the ground and turns to face Masato. “I thought you meant ‘no use crying over spilled milk,’ so I just told you what *that* means.” Riki sighs in relief. “But I suppose you really are stupid enough to think people cry over tipped Miltanks. And besides, you already make a fool of yourself in front of Riki every day, don’t you?”

“*THAT’S IT!* I thought you’d say that, Kengoooo! Why don’t you say it to my muscles?”

“If it’s a battle you want, it’s a battle you’ll get!” Kengo pulls a Pokéball out of his hakama, but before he can throw it a shrill whistle pierces the air.

“*Kengo Miyazawa, Masato Inohara, you two KNOW no Pokémon battles are allowed in the park!*” The gate attendant glares at them from her post, a megaphone in her hand.

“…Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.” Abashed, Kengo turns away from the gate to resume his exercises.

“Tch. I guess you get to put it off this time. But next time we battle, I’m gonna take you down for sure!” Masato grunts in acquiescence, then drops to the ground and starts doing situps.

“You said that the last time you challenged me, too.”

Satisfied that his friends have been defused, Riki looks around the park. “Hey, Kengo? Have you seen Rin?”

“Hm? She’s down on the east side, like always.”

“Ehehe, of course…” With a sheepish chuckle, Riki waves goodbye to the pair of muscle idiots, and ducks into the nearest ‘ruin.’ In the back, there’s a ramp leading down into a series of small tunnels which connect all of the structures. Riki turns left, and makes his way to a ramp leading back up to a hut on the western side of the park. As he emerges, he hears a girl’s voice seemingly holding up one end of a conversation.

“Oh! Are you trying to learn Copycat? You can do it, Tezuka! Audrey is showing you how!”

Meowww.

“Wait… but… You’re already a cat, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know Copycat already? You probably copy other cats all the time…”

Meow?

“Do you actually know it? Have you been holding out on me?” The voice takes on a shocked tone.

Meow…

Quietly, Riki peers out of the stone hut. A short ways away, playing with a multitude of cat Pokémon, is Rin Natsume. She’s a girl with red eyes and a brown ponytail. She’s wearing a pair of jeans ripped off at her calves, and a white shirt with pink striped sleeves. A small bell is attached to the thin white ribbon holding her hair back, and it jingles softly every time she moves her head. Perched on her shoulder is a Chingling, a round yellow Pokémon with a growth like a striped rope on top of its head. Rin makes a suspicious face at a Meowth crouched on all fours in front of her.

“You would tell me if you knew Copycat, right?”

Miaoww…

Evidently satisfied, Rin peers into the gold coin on the Meowth’s forehead. “Are you proud of your coin? Do you polish it every day?”

Meow.

“Woah! That’s amazingly dedicated! Super… no, duper-duper dedicated!” Rin scratches the Meowth behind its ears, making it purr. A Skitty nudges its head into Rin’s arm, and suddenly cat Pokémon are climbing all over her. “W-woah! Hold on! I can’t pet all of you at once!”

*I’ve probably waited long enough…* Smiling to himself, Riki steps out of his shelter.

“Are the cats happy?”

“Wah! Riki! I’m— I’m not playing! I was… scolding these cats! Yes, Tezuka, you’ve been very bad! (whew, that was a close save!)” Although Riki can hear her muttering to herself, he decides not to press.

“Right… Well, I brought sandwiches, so I just wanted to let you know where to find them once you get hungry. I’m going to go sit by the pond for a while, okay?”

“Mm.” Rin nods and turns back to the cats. At this point, Rin is such a fixture in Amity Square that Riki wouldn’t be surprised should it turn out she’s disrupting natural migration patterns. He’s pretty sure that Espurr were an invasive species in Sinnoh before they started flocking to Hearthome…

Leaving Rin and the cats behind, Riki and Sly cross a wooden bridge to the small island in the middle of the pond. He gives Sly a boost, straining to lift the Rock-type, and then sits down next to it on a raised stone outcropping. He looks across the water at Rin, then raises his gaze to watch Masato and Kengo trying to outdo each other in their respective martial exercises. He smiles. As long as he has this, he’ll be okay.

—-

Years ago…

…Riki’s life had been clouded in shadow. After the accident that killed his parents, he had retreated into himself, giving up on the outside world. If living meant feeling this loss, then he would rather close himself off and not feel anything. If remembering his parents meant sinking into this pit, he would rather know nothing at all. He’d spent every day trying to hide from the pain, without the will to move forward. His guardian had moved to Hearthome with him, hoping the city would help him open back up, but even then he still spent every day in a haze.

And then, one day…

…A boy had appeared in front of him, and reached out a hand to pull him up.

“My name is Kyousuke Natsume. What’s yours?”

“…Riki Naoe…”

“Come with me, Riki! We need you to add your strength to ours!”

“Huh…?” Riki had raised his head, confused.

Kyousuke had pulled him to where three other kids were waiting; Rin, Masato, and Kengo. He’d explained that they were trying to capture an invasive hive of Beedrill before it could damage the local ecosystem.

“My teacher said if Beedrill get a foothold in Sinnoh, they’ll drive away Combee hives!”

“But— what are *you* going to do about it?”

“Don’t underestimate us!” Kyousuke had thumped his chest with a grin. “The four of us are allies of justice who fight evil - we’re called the Little Busters! Together, we can take on any opponent!”

The children gathered and threw Pokéballs at the hive until a swarm of Beedrill finally came out, yellow bee Pokémon nearly as tall as they were, with black stripes on their thoraxes and massive stingers on their arms. It was then that Masato had made a desperate play, smearing himself with honey to lure them away from the hive. “The rest is up to you!”

Realizing the danger, Kyousuke’s Pichu had jumped off of his shoulder at the swarm and shot sparks all around it, electrocuting the pursuing Beedrill… and Masato with them. “Gaaaaah! That’s not the help I wanted!” Watching as a scorched Masato berated Kyousuke, Riki had finally broken down and laughed - and found the other Little Busters laughing with him.

In the end, they had weakened the Beedrill enough for adults to notice and come remove the hive. What’s more, one of the Beedrill had attached itself to Masato after eating the honey off of his shirt, and he’d been allowed to keep it - with a strict promise to never train it without supervision.

Since that morning, every day had been filled with life. The Little Busters came up with all sorts of tiny adventures, from cleaning a pool in return for a day of sole access, to climbing the spire of Hearthome’s cathedral. Laughing and playing together with his friends, the pain in Riki’s heart had become more bearable, until slowly, almost without his realizing it, it had vanished behind the boisterous fun of being with them.

Now…

…Riki Naoe’s only wish is for these days to go on forever.

——

“Yo, Riki.” A familiar voice breaks Riki out of his reverie. It’s already dark out. He looks around before finally catching sight of Kyousuke standing on the island, his hand raised in a lazy wave. Riki’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Kyousuke! Your trip is over? Oh, wait, I need to go get the others!” He turns and runs deeper into the park. “Hey! Masato! Kengo! Rin! Come on, Kyousuke’s back!”

“Kyousuke’s back?” Masato looks over with a grin, and hops down the short cliff dividing the east end of the park from the west. Rin stands up, sending a rain of cat Pokémon tumbling off of her, and Kengo emerges from a stone ‘ruin’ a few moments later, having chosen a more dignified method of transport.

Masato pumps his fist. “Good to have you back, Kyousuke!”

Riki nods. “Yeah, we’ve missed you! How was your trip?”

Kyousuke chuckles and gives a thumbs-up. “Mission Complete!”

“So what’s next, then? What should we all do this week?”

“Ah…” A bead of sweat runs down Kyousuke’s face. “About that… I can’t actually stay for long. I have to go on another trip in a couple of days.”

Riki’s face falls. “Again? But Kyousuke, you were gone for a month already!”

Kengo puts a hand on Riki’s shoulder. “Riki… being Sinnoh’s Champion is a big responsibility. You know that Kyousuke can’t blow it off just to spend time with us.”

“But…!” Riki looks between Kengo and Masato, who doesn’t meet his eyes. “Why aren’t either of you backing me up? He’s your friend too…”

“Riki, you didn’t let me finish.”

“Huh?”

Kyousuke fixes Riki with a serious gaze. “I have to go on another trip... but this time, I wasn't planning to go alone."

"Oh..." Riki shrinks in on himself. "So... You need Masato and Kengo to go with you too, this time...?"

"Not just them," Kyousuke cuts in before Riki can continue. "I want everyone to come with me - you and Rin, too."

“Eeeh? You... really want us to come along?” Riki glances at Rin, who looks as uncertain as he feels. “But you've never taken me or Rin with you on Champion business before! I mean… If it lets us all stay together then of course I’ll go, but… won’t we just slow you down?”

Kyousuke shakes his head. “Not necessarily. I believe that you and Rin can become capable Trainers.”

“Trainers? Wait, no, we could never be as good as you, Kyousuke!”

“Riki. Even with me, Masato, and Kengo protecting you, accidents can still happen on the road. If you and Rin want to come with me, you have to be able to take care of yourselves. Your Bonsly and Rin’s Chingling won’t be enough on their own. Rin, catch.” In a smooth motion, he tosses a Pokéball at his sister in a gentle underhand. Rin scrambles to catch it with a yelp, but when she glares at him he just grins. “In that Pokéball is a cat Pokémon from Alola called Litten. Your big brother crossed oceans and mountains to secure it for you, facing down giant Pokémon and inhospitable—”

“Shut up, idiot, you just called in a favor or something.”

“Gkh—!” Kyousuke flinches.

*Looks like Rin got it in one. Well, even so…* Riki glances at Rin, who is clutching the Pokéball protectively despite her harsh words. *At least she seems happy.*

Kyousuke rallies. “As for Riki, I have a choice of Pokémon for you.” He takes out a pair of Pokéballs this time, holding one in each hand. He raises the Pokéball in his left hand. “First is Piplup, the Penguin Pokémon. It’s a fast swimmer, and evolves into a Water and Steel-type Pokémon which can slice apart ice floes with its wings.” He lowers his left hand, and holds up his right instead. “Your other choice is Turtwig, the Tiny Leaf Pokémon. Its shell is made of hardened soil, and it evolves into a Grass and Ground-type that shelters smaller Pokémon on its back.” He makes a grand sweeping gesture with both arms, or at least as much of one as he can manage while gripping a Pokéball in each hand. “The adventures I went through to retrieve these Pokémon are too grand for—”

“You told Professor Rowan it was for Riki, so he handed them over,” Rin retorts. Riki looks away at the mention of the Pokémon Professor.

Kyousuke droops, an aura of gloom falling over his eyes. “…Right. That.” For such a competent and energetic Trainer, he can be surprisingly childish when he doesn’t get his way…

“W-wait, no! This is just what I wanted!” Riki rushes up to Kyousuke and grabs a Pokéball out of one hand, throwing it in front of him. The Pokéball bursts open with a loud noise and a flash of red light, which resolves into the shape of a small tortoise on all fours. The light clears to reveal that the Turtwig is covered in green scales, with yellow splotches on its feet and a yellow lower jaw. It has a brown shell on its back, and a sprout with two leaves grows from another patch of soil on its head. “See? I’m really happy to be given a Turtwig!”

“Really? Even with what Rin said?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Then you’ll go with me?”

“I’ll do it!”

“Yahoo!” Any trace of his former sulk is gone as Kyousuke shouts with a boyish grin. “Alright then, you should get to know your Turtwig while Rin meets her Pokémon. Oh, by the way, Turtwig is a girl, while Litten and Piplup are boys.”

Riki crouches down to pet the Turtwig while Kyousuke moves on. Its scales are cool and firm to the touch, and when Riki experimentally pats its shell, he’s surprised to find that it feels moist. He looks up while Turtwig headbutts his palm affectionately. A short ways away, Kyousuke is showing Rin the proper form for releasing a Pokémon. She nods with a quiet jingle, winds up, and as her arm sails forward to release the Pokéball, the ball vanishes.

There is an “OWW!” and the sound of a Pokémon leaving its ball, and the group all turns to see Masato lying on the ground with a Litten standing on his face. Unlike most of its species, the Litten’s fur is white except for its whiskers and lower jaw, rings around its legs, and a vertical stripe in the middle of its forehead which branches into two horizontal stripes, all of which are red.

Kengo speaks up, impressed. “You got your hands on a shiny one?”

“I *did* say I went to lengths,” says Kyousuke, preening. “That said, Rin, we’re going to have to work on your control.” He turns to his sister, but she’s not listening, already following the Litten as it hops off of Masato’s face and trots a few paces away.

Rin sits down and offers her fingers for the cat Pokémon to sniff. After a moment, it rubs up against her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, um…” She looks up, uncertain. “He needs a name. What to call him…” Riki turns back to his Turtwig as Rin considers. He should probably give this one a name, too. He watches as it and Sly investigate each other, and pats the base of the sprout on its head, feeling the dampness of the soil.

“Alright, then. It’s nice to meet you, Terra.” The Turtwig looks back at him and cocks its head. “That’s your name now, okay? Terra.”

“Kyousuke, help… I can’t think of any more names…” Rin’s voice makes Riki look up again. She seems genuinely distraught. Well, that’s only natural, when she’s named every cat Pokémon she’s come across for as long as Riki’s known her…

“Hm… Well, a proper name for a Pokémon is important. Alright then, I’ll name him for you. Litten, from now on you’ll be called…” Kyousuke makes a dramatic flourish at the cat. “…Lennon!”

Riki meets Kengo’s eyes as the latter suppresses a groan. For all the fuss he’s making about names, Kyousuke always just names his Pokémon after famous people.

“Now then, let’s get back to business.” Kyousuke clears his throat. “I’ve also brought some empty Pokéballs for you. You should make sure you put Santa and Sly in the first ones. Most of the time, you’ll only want to have one Pokémon out when traveling, and sometimes it’s better to have all of them in their balls.” He hands Riki and Rin five Pokéballs each. Rin holds one up to her shoulder, and after waiting a moment to see that Santa doesn’t back away, she taps the Chingling with the button on front and it disappears into red light. Riki does the same for his Bonsly. “And finally, a Pokédex for each of you.” He opens a slim black bag and pulls out an orange rectangle with a clamshell design. The left side of the Pokédex has a round protrusion coming out of the side, with a camera in the center. He hands it to Riki before pulling out a second one and giving it to Rin.

Riki flips his Pokédex open, revealing two screens. A D-Pad sits in the middle of the round protrusion on the bottom half, while the top half has a speaker in the same place. He presses the power button next to the bottom screen, and the screens light up. A smaller protrusion pops out of the right side of the Pokédex, with a rotary touch pad on it and a green circle in the center. The screen guides him through a setup process, then opens to a blank list.

“The Pokédex has a camera function to automatically record data on Pokémon you see, but you can also register one that you’ve caught for more information by holding up the Pokéball to that green lens.” Kyousuke shows Riki how to line up Sly’s Pokéball with the lens, and Bonsly’s information fills itself in on the screen. Riki withdraws Terra and registers its information while Kyousuke moves on to help Rin with the setup. “When the Pokédex is closed, it will turn off the screens to conserve power, so you should be able to maintain the battery life as long as you don’t forget to charge it whenever you’re sleeping indoors. As long as the camera can see from wherever you keep it, it will still register the Pokémon you encounter.”

Riki flips the Pokédex closed and pushes the protrusion with the lens and touch pad back into its protective casing. After a moment’s consideration, he slips the Pokédex into a breast pocket, with the camera just sticking out on top. “Then… When will we have to leave?”

“In two days,” Kyousuke says. “I was figuring tomorrow we can just relax and do something fun, and then we’ll help the two of you prepare for the trip before we set out.”

“Alright, then!” Masato slams his fist into his palm. “Now we get to the *fun* part! You two ready to start training?”

Kengo looks from Riki, stifling a yawn, to Rin, staring at her Pokédex like it’s a foreign language, to his Pokétch, proudly displaying the time as ‘12:00’. He puts a hand on Masato’s shoulder. “Maybe that should wait for tomorrow.”

By now, the park is totally empty except for them and the night-shift attendants. Kyousuke chuckles sheepishly. “Ah… right. Then let’s reconvene in the morning.”

As the friends file out of Amity Square, Riki glances back for a moment. It’s looking like he might not see it again for a while, but that’s fine. Where he is has never been what’s important to him. He looks at his friends again, Masato and Kengo playfully arguing over which will be the better teacher as Kyousuke and Rin stride ahead. As long as he can stay with the four of them, that’s all that matters.

[spine-buster]

the storm before the calm (f. andersen) | 3

A/N: I continue to be baffled by the response to this fic.  It’s overwhelming!  Keep those canon questions coming!

TW: mention/explanation of EDs, EDNOS/OSFED

While alone in his hotel room one night, after most of the guys had left to go to a bar, Fred decided to conduct an in-depth search of Aleida Casillas.  He knew there were a lot of things she wasn’t telling him, and that he couldn’t really trust the word on the street from girls like Serena.  So he went digging.

The first links that came up were fashion related.  Things she wore to events put on by the Toronto International Film Festival, by Toronto Life magazine, by various other institutions in the city that always liked to have charity galas and fundraising parties so people with money felt like important, morally conscious philanthropists when they wrote $10,000 cheques for their tables.  There were a lot of pictures.  And she looked beautiful in all of them.  Stylish and classy and just plain good.  Everything fit to perfection.  He could see why she was a model – at least an apparent model – even though she never talked about it.  Her body was to die for.  People went under the knife to look like her.  

Other articles appeared from her past.  There was a photo of her as a teenager, posing in her school uniform, the kilt and blazer in full effect.  There was a family photoshoot when Hello! Magazine did a ten page spread of their newly renovated mansion in Rosedale, another spread from when their dad celebrated his 60th birthday party at the Shangri-La, and modelling shots from her Instagram profile and designers’ Instagram profiles.

World-renowned cardiologist, Dr. Felipe Casillas, and his wife, plastic surgeon Dr. Leonor Casillas, invite us into their home!

Youngest daughter Aleida, 17, who was just recently accepted into the University of Toronto’s faculty of music, poses with her older sister Alejandra, 21, recently accepted to the University of Toronto’s faculty of medicine, are pictured above.  Alejandra is keen to follow in her parents’ footsteps and enter the medical profession.  “It’s important to me to carry on the legacy that my parents have established in Toronto,” she says.  

Aleida, for her part, loves music.  “I think if Aleida could sing every day, she would,” Leonor laughs.  “She has been playing piano since she was a child.  Aleida is far from a doctor, so it’s only natural for her to want to pursue it instead of medicine.”

Fred was irked at the comment.  He clicked on other articles and read on.

Aleida Casillas, 21, poses front row at Alexander McQueen’s London Fashion Week show.  Casillas has just graduated with a degree in music.  “Perfect for serenading,” she flirts into our camera.

Click.

Toronto socialite and all-around beauty Aleida Casillas knows a thing or two about fashion.  After attending Branksome Hall with up-and-coming designer Genevieve Jones, the daughter of renowned cardiologist Felipe Casillas and plastic surgeon extraordinaire Leonor Casillas knew it was a no-brainer to support the designer as she launched her first collection.  She does, after all, have all the best connections.  Who wouldn’t want to attach themselves to Aleida?

Click.

TDOTDIRT.com: Aleida Casillas is hot – we all knew that.  But did we know she’s fuckin’ smokin’ hot?

Check out her tits in her newest modelling shoot for Genevieve Jones. Those nips poking through?  Nice.  And let’s not get started on her ass…

Aleida is probably the hottest girl in Toronto.  Too bad she’s got a stick up her ass.  

Click.

Aleida Casillas sits front row at the Genevieve Jones fashion show after modelling for the brand.

Click.

Aleida’s tight body—

Click.

Equestrian pursuits have always been a passion for the Casillas family.  Dr. Felipe Casillas, the cardiologist responsible for the successful quadruple bypass of former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney, brings us to the horse farm where his family’s horses are kept.  Left, Dr. Casillas’s youngest daughter, Aleida (15), poses with her horse Concordia.

Click.

Who wouldn’t want to slap Aleida’s tight ass—

Click.

TODIRT.com: Sent to us from a reader: If ANYONE ever runs into Aleida Casillas RUN THE OTHER WAY!!!!!  That girl is the BIGGEST BITCH in the city of Toronto.  She thinks she owns the city cause her family is rich!  I PERSONALLY saw her ruin a date right in front of me by FLIRTING with the guy IN FRONT OF THE GIRL!!!!!  She’s a heartless bitch!!!!!  And she thinks she’s such hot shit because she’s in magazines and models and is popular on Instagram, but NOBODY LIKES HER!!!!!

Click.

Aleida Casillas keeps her Cuban roots close to her heart.  She returns to Havana every year, where her family is one of the few who own a historic mansion in Miramar, to return to the place she has such find memories of.  

Click.

If u check the insta of @aleidacasillas she posted a story of her at the leaf game. she’s def in the wag section. is she dating someone on the leafs?

Who?

omg aleida casillas is at the leaf game. basically confirms she’s dating someone on the team.

Who is this girl you guys keep talking about?  Is she a known bunny?

Aleida Casillas is one of the biggest socialites in Toronto.  These anons are reaching.  If she was dating a Leaf, we’d know about it.  Trust me.  She’d make us know about it.  She has no shame.

Um okay?

Click.

Lock.

He was left more confused than when he had started – at least somewhat.  There was so much to know about her, so much that she was already telling him but so much he still needed to know.  More than anything, he didn’t know how he didn’t know her before this.  How it had to come to finding her crying in order to know who she was when she was already in the public eye and there was so much to find out about her.  

He sighed.

He unlocked his phone again.  

You have horses? he typed and sent off the message.  He had no idea how she would react.

I have one horse, Mars.  I’ve had horses.

Who told you?

I googled it

You must have found out a lot then

Nothing as important as what you tell me when we’re alone

God, he didn’t expect that to come out like it did.  He was a grown man who wanted to hide beneath the covers.

Well aren’t you a lucky boy

I didn’t mean it like that

I know you didn’t

My attitude doesn’t come through via text.  Sorry.

What are you up to?

Why haven’t you told me about your family?

Because I don’t think they’re very proud of me 

I don’t think I ever lived up to their expectations, but my sister did

And that’s created tension

At least to me

They try to hide it but I know they’re disappointed

I doubt they’re disappointed in you

You’re successful

No I’m not

Not like them

Fred stared at the message for a long time – probably too long.  Because before he could begin typing out a message – what he would say, he didn’t know – she’d already sent something again.

Go to bed Fred.  Big game tomorrow.

God forbid people find out I’m the one to keep you up, right?

***

Fred watched intently as Aleida walk into the café.  She was dressed in tight black pants, a tucked in black turtleneck, and a stylish brown plaid blazer.  Her hair was styled in loose curls and it bounced so effortlessly, like she was in a shampoo commercial.  Jewelry dripped off of her.  On her neck, a multistrand pearl necklace hung over her turtleneck, the diamond clasp holding it together shining bright in the light.  On her ears, pearl studs.  On her wrist, stacks of Cartier Love bracelets she had obviously put on recently.  On her fingers, a large emerald cut light green amethyst on a gold band on one hand; an equally as large emerald cut pale pink morganite ring on a gold band on the other.  

He shivered thinking about how much money she was wearing.  Why she was wearing so much money.  She approached the table and set her purse down on it – a Birkin, naturally – obscuring the view of what was on their table from the rest of the café-goers.  “Thanks for getting a table at the back,” she said, not even saying hello.

It was a point of pain for Fred that she was averse to being seen with him in public, unless it was at the backs of restaurants or cafes where very few people would see them.  He tried to not let it get to him, but it was proving hard.  “Yeah, no problem,” he said absent-mindedly.  “Why are you all…” he didn’t finish his sentence, instead deciding to do jazz hands to signify how dressed up she was.  Not that she didn’t dress up all the time – it was mostly a statement on the jewelry.  

“I met with my friend Genevieve,” Aleida revealed, sitting down in her seat.  “You must have heard about her in your readings.”

“The designer.”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head.  “We did some new shots of her new pieces for Instagram, which is why…” she held up her hands, jingling her fingers like he’d just done, and motioned to her necklace.  “Clothes are hers.  Jewelry is mine.”

“You didn’t want to go home and change?” Fred asked.

Aleida’s brow’s furrowed.  “Why?  Do I not look good?”

“No!  No no!  You look incredible—”

“Then why would I change?”

“I – forget it,” Fred shook his head.  “How are you?”

Aleida shook her head slightly.  There were a few moments where it looked like she was going to say something, but she didn’t.  She’d stop herself.  “I’ve been thinking about the stuff we talk about,” she began, getting right into it.  No formalities; no small talk.  “And I don’t…I don’t know why you’re still here.”

Fred was perplexed.  “What do you mean?”

Aleida sighed.  “I’m just not…” her voice cracked slightly.  “I’m not a good person.  And you are.  And I don’t know why you’re sticking around when it’s so obvious we’re like fire and ice.”

“Aleida, when are you going to get it through your thick skull that none of that matters,” he said, reaching over the table to hold her hand.

This time, there was no flinching.  But she did tug away, and there was a sharp intake of breath as his hand refused to let go, even after being dragged further across the table.  “Don’t do that,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because if you do, I’ll melt into you.”

Fred’s heart skipped a beat at her words.  “What’s so wrong with that?” his voice was soft.

Aleida shook her head again, like she was trying to deny not only Fred but herself too of the nonsense that was coming out of her mouth.  “I can’t…I can’t…”

“Why not?”

“I can’t corrupt you.”

Fred looked at her like she was crazy, because she was really sprouting some nonsense now.  He didn’t know where she was getting this from – where her mind would go when she was alone and overthought things – but if this was the result of a mind too active to think rationally, he didn’t like it.  “You’re not corrupting anyone,” he stressed.  

“I’m too much for you.”

“Maybe you’re just what I’ve been looking for.”

Aleida continued to shake her head.  She was stubborn – he had to give her that.  And quite hard-headed.  “You’re looking for balance.  You said so yourself,” she said.  “I can’t give you balance.”

“Who are you to tell me what kind of balance I need,” he said back to her.  “Maybe you’re the balance I need.”

“Fred,” she stressed his name, “you don’t understand.  I’m not in a good place emotionally and I haven’t been for months – some would argue years – and –”

“Aleida, stop it,” he said firmly.  The stubbornness and hard-headedness were hard to get through but he could be that right back at her if she was going to be like this – putting herself to blame for things.  “I’m going to be in your life whether you like it or not.”

“But why?  Why?” she demanded.

“It’s not obvious to you?  I like you, Aleida.  Can’t you see that?”

She looked at him, bewildered.  Like he’d just grown another head.  “You like me?”

“Of course I like you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  “You honestly think I don’t?”

“You – you mean you think I’m beautiful,” she attempted to correct him.

“No.  Well – yes – that too – but besides that.  I like you.  However you present yourself to me.  However you are.  I like you.”

Aleida looked mystified.  Like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Like it was a foreign concept that someone could like her and want to be around her willingly without bringing her beauty into it.  He wondered what made her think this way – what made her think the only reason people stuck around was her beauty.  “Listen, Aleida—”

“Aleida?” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation.

All the emotion drained from Aleida’s face as she violently tugged her hand away from his grasp and hid it underneath the table.  She looked up and noticed an all-too-familiar face at the waiting area of the bar.  Fred looked behind him to see a woman walking towards them.  Dressed impeccably – much like Aleida – except with less jewels draping off of her, although he still noticed similar Cartier love bracelets and a gold necklace.  Fred figured she didn’t come straight from a modelling shoot.  Although, the more he stared at her, the more he noticed similarities between the two women.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, a nice smile on her face.  She had beautiful, clear skin; long dark brown hair slicked back into a ponytail with a trendy headband; full lips painted with a neutral pink.  “Didn’t think I’d run into you here after you didn’t answer my text this morning!  I thought you might have dropped by the clinic.”

Fred looked between the woman and Aleida.  Aleida caught him staring, and when she did, she knew she would have to explain.  There was no way getting out of it.  “This is my sister Alejandra,” she explained quickly, with no enthusiasm in her voice.  “Alejandra, this is Frederik.”

Alejandra.  It took a second for Fred to realize that she was Aleida’s sister.  But after taking another look at her, and noticing their similar facial structure, noses, cheeks, and lips, he wondered why he didn’t see it sooner.  He cracked a polite smile.  “Hi.  It’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.  

“So this is Frederik Andersen,” she smiled, shaking his hand.  “You look different without your goalie mask on.”

Fred chuckled slightly.  “Yeah.”

“Sorry if you get that a lot.  When my husband found out Aleida somehow befriended you it was a big shock to us all.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” he said.  His eyes flashed to look at Aleida quickly, who looked more nervous and uptight than usual.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.  Aleida has told me a lot about you.”

“Did she tell you she was supposed to come visit our clinic this morning?” Alejandra slightly laughed, shifting her attention back to her sister.  “Where were you?”

“I had a shoot.”

“A shoot?”

“With Genevieve.”

“You had a modelling shoot with Genevieve.”

“Yes.”

“Oh, alright,” Alejandra accepted Aleida’s excuse nicely enough.  She didn’t put up much of a fuss.  “Mom was wondering if you’re still coming to dinner Wednesday night.  She didn’t get a text back from you.”

“I’m coming.”

“Fred, would you like to join?” Alejandra asked.

Before Fred could even breathe – before he could even entertain the notion of getting dressed up, going to Aleida’s parents’ house, meeting them and interacting with them for an entire night like Alejandra was proposing – he noticed Aleida’s eyes bulge out of their sockets at Alejandra’s question.  “Fred has a game Wednesday,” she said quickly, answering for him.  

“Oh…okay then.  Next time,” Alejandra nodded, smiling politely again.  She focused back on her sister.  “Did you eat today?  Since you were supposed to come for breakfast.”

Aleida tried not to glare at her sister.  “I’m trying to eat right now.”

“No foam latte for Alejandra!” the barista called out, placing a large takeout cup on the bar.  Fred, Aleida, and Alejandra looked towards the cup before looking back at each other.  

Alejandra smiled at them.  “Guess I better get going – Oliver is waiting outside anyway.  It was really nice to meet you Fred,” she said, extending her hand one last time.

“You too.”

“I’ll have to have you over for dinner or drinks sometime, whenever Aleida lets me,” she winked at them.  “Take care.”

Fred watched as she walked out of the café, meeting with a man waiting that Fred could only assume was her husband Oliver before the continued down the street.  He looked back at Aleida, who was already looking down at her empty plate, not bothering to watch her sister.  “So that was Alejandra?” Fred asked.

“Doctor Alejandra Casillas-Rowe,” Aleida said her full name pretentiously, rolling her eyes.

“She was nice.”

“I guess.”

“You look like her,” Fred commented.

Aleida finally looked him in the eye.  She snorted at his comment.  “She looks like me.  She made herself look like me.”

Fred didn’t want to get into it.  There was obviously something there that he didn’t want to get in the middle of.  Relationships between sisters were notoriously…complicated.  He figured this was no different, especially considering the way Aleida was and what she had already told him about Alejandra living up to their parents’ expectations and Aleida not.  

Instead, Fred reached under the table to hold her hand again.  This time, she didn’t tug away.  

***

“This is the big boy who was looking for you that one time,” Frank, the drummer in Aleida’s band, purred as he was introduced to Fred at Aleida’s house during a “gathering” she was having.  He eyed Fred up and down even as he spoke.  “A very, very big boy.”

“Stop scaring him,” Aleida giggled, pinching the skin on Frank’s forearm.  

“Didn’t you?” Frank quipped.

“Apparently not,” she wiggled her eyebrows.  

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Fred added.  

“You are.  And believe me, that says a lot,” Frank said.

Fred felt Aleida snake her arm around his bicep.  He tried not to shiver at the contact – at the fact that for the first time, it was her that initiated the contact.  “He’s gotta meet everybody else.  We’ll be back.”

Frank scoffed playfully.  “But he’s a tall glass of water and I’m not done drinking!” he complained, giving Fred yet another up-down.  

“Goodbye Frank,” Aleida whisked Fred away.

As Aleida began introducing Fred to everyone, he made sure to keep track of their names and their instruments.  There was Frank, the drummer; and Celeste, the saxophone player; and Malakai, the trumpet player; and his twin brother Marcellus, the trombone player; and Oscar, who played guitar on a vintage archtop; and Gina, the bassist, both double bass and electric; and Aleida of course, the pianist and singer.  As he met them, they all gave him knowing looks.  

These were the members of Aleida’s band, The Havana Cats – her second family.  They had been with her since she was twenty, when they all met magically one night at some bar downtown and realized they all played instruments and had a nagging desire to start some form of band as a means to relax from stressful university workloads.  And they did – they formed a band and jammed in rented out studio space or in someone’s garage.  But then they got good.  Really good.  And then Marcellus got the bright idea to book them a gig.  And they played it and did really well, so the owner asked them back.  Again.  And again.  And again.  And then they incorporated themselves into a business, and got booked at bigger clubs and more exclusive events thanks to Aleida’s name, and soon enough, they were booked a lot.

And they stuck together.

Most had day jobs – Malakai and Marcellus worked for the same financial securities firm, Gina worked as a web designer, Celeste as a music teacher, and Frank as waiter in an upscale restaurant – but their real passion was the music.  They were booked most weekends, at either private events, galas – like where Aleida had performed the same night she met Fred – or the odd jazz bar in downtown Toronto – like where Fred had watched them last.  

Genevieve was at the party too, tall and statuesque, with an air of grace about her that Fred immediately felt the minute he was introduced to her first.  They made polite small talk – she asked about the team, he asked about her being a designer – before the band came over all in one go.  That was when things got hectic.  But despite everybody being there, treating Aleida’s townhouse as if it were their own, eating all the food on the island and playing all the music from the speakers, Fred knew that Aleida was surrounded by people she loved, and people that loved her.  

There were moments when Fred would watch Aleida and he knew she was happy – that the smile on her face and the slight crinkles of her eyes were signs of pure, true, genuine happiness as she was surrounded by them.  There were moments when their eyes would meet across the room and she’d wink at him and he’d wink back, and he knew she wasn’t playing a game – that the wink was a genuine, deliberate act on her part to flirt in front of people she was comfortable with.  There were moments when she’d come up to him sitting at the bar and she’d stand in between his large legs as he sat on a barstool, and her body would be dangerously close to his, and her fingertips would graze his thigh or he’d bring his own hands up to lightly touch her hips or lower back or backs of her thighs and a blush would overcome her cheeks, and he knew she wanted to be there – that she wanted to be close to him, physically close, and that her guard was down, which was why she was even doing all of this in the first place.  She must have taken the conversation at the coffee shop to her heart, because there was no fighting, there were no stupid excuses, and there wasn’t any confusion about the feelings shared.  

Fred was seeing the happy Aleida.  The true Aleida.  What Aleida could look like.  What Aleida was like, at her core.  Without…everything else around her.

It was the most attracted he had ever been.

The band began to argue about whether or not they should jam out a few songs.  Oscar had already picked up the acoustic guitar sitting in the corner and was strumming random chords.  Celeste was offering songs.  Malakai was shooting them all down.  Fred’s hands were cold as Aleida had walked away from him, leaving him unable to touch her and feel his fingers burning as he did so.  He watched her kick Frank off her piano.  A Steinway Model D Concert Grand, it cost over $150,000.  Most people didn’t even have them in homes, because of their size and the fact that it was a concert piano meant for a giant stage, but Aleida did.  It was her baby.  And it wasn’t for fooling around with.  So Genevieve was explaining to him.  

“Aleida’s a treat, isn’t she?” Genevieve was quiet as the band continued to argue.  The sound of a few quick piano chords filled the room.

“She definitely is.”

“You know, Fred, it’s really telling that you’re still here.”

Fred gave her a look.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a fire inside of Aleida,” Genevieve explained.  “Not many people are able to handle the heat.”

Leave it to a fashion designer to speak in metaphors.  What was the fire supposed to represent?  Her personality?  Her issues?  Fred wished Genevieve would just say what’s on her mind.  “I know she’s going through a lot, and she’s maybe been through a lot, but I’m able to look past the front she puts up with people,” he explained.

“I know you can.  That’s why I’m saying it’s telling you’re still here,” she clarified.  “It’s telling, because a lot of people know about Aleida, and they think they know her just because they see her or hear stories about her, but I’d hazard to guess it’s only the people in this room who know and understand and can see the true her.”

“So what’s that got to do with her fire?”

“Most people just feel the burns.  Only some people can see the fire, Fred.  And you’re one of them.”

Before he could respond, the familiar sounds of a song he knew all too well hung in the air and distracted him, making him focus instead on Aleida sitting behind her piano and on Oscar strumming the guitar notes.  John Mayer.  He watched as she closed her eyes and continued to sing, her voice deep and jazzy and soulful all at once.  Everybody in the room became mesmerized listening to her.  Oscar helped sing the second stanza, then it returned to her.

She and Fred locked eyes.

“Don’t say a word, just cover and lie here with me, cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see…”

A shiver ran up his spine.

***

When everybody was gone, Aleida found herself nestled into Fred again.  He had to be a gentleman about it.  Despite being touchy feely all night, he had to ask to touch her before she agreed, and his hands were so soft and delicate as he did; and when he wrapped his arms around her, she couldn’t help but melt – do the exact thing she was scared of doing when she spoke to him at the coffee shop.  But she found it harder and harder to say no to him, harder and harder to be so hard and difficult with someone who was only so easy and delicate with her.  

And so as she looked into his big blue eyes, and felt the scruff of his beard along the backs of her fingers, in the depths of her mind she knew he deserved better.  Explanations.  

“You okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.  

Explanations.  He needed more explanations.  He needed to know what happened to her.  What she had been through.  Other things that made her the way she was.  

So she was going to tell him.

“I had an eating disorder – well – I – I had trouble with food, and I had trouble with my body for a long time, because people paid more attention to it than they did me, and it really fucked me up for a really long time, and I think it’s the other major reason why I am the way that I am today,” she said, finally.

Fred’s eyes stung upon hearing her revelation.  He had never known anyone with an eating disorder, even though he knew the brain was a tricky and complex thing.  He wanted to be more understanding – not just for his sake, but for Aleida’s.  He assumed that she had probably told very, very few people about it – and a part of him wondered, knowing the relationship with her family, if she even told them.  As much as it was painful for him to hear, and as much as it probably took a lot for her to tell him, it was a privilege hearing it.  It meant she trusted him.  “Aleida…”

“What I had was an EDNOS – but now they call it OSFED,” she kept talking, needing to let it all out now that it was out in the open.  “It started my last year of high school…basically the day I turned 18 and was legal.  I wasn’t anorexic or anything – or bulimic – and I didn’t really binge eat often.  But I was obsessed with my body because everybody else became obsessed with my body.  I would think about everything that went into my mouth and how it would affect my body and how it looked.  Like, if I ate a kale salad would my stomach still be flat?  If I ate a donut would my boobs get bigger from fat?  It was all in an effort to maintain the beauty that people were so fixated on, because I was convinced by everybody around me that it was the only thing about me that mattered.”

Fred’s mind was racing a mile a minute, thinking about what she had to go through at such a young age.  He wanted to punch every single person who was responsible for making her feel the way she did; for making her think she was only beautiful and not anything else – a real, three-dimensional human being with needs and wants and emotions just like everybody else.  “How long have you been sick?” he asked.

“It went on for a couple of years before I got help.  It was the worst kind of psychological torture.  You have no idea.  But I finally told my parents – well, my dad, the one who isn’t a plastic surgeon.”

Fred’s mind began to race again, thinking about everything she had to endure.  The pain and suffering of being in a body she had a bad relationship with; the constant guilt of trying to nurture herself with food but fighting an internal battle with herself wondering if it was worth consuming; the harassment from people around her who only focused on the least important part of her; the self-hatred; the loneliness; knowing that everybody around her was obsessed with the one thing she didn’t want them obsessing over, and judging her over the one thing that didn’t need to be judged.  He was at a loss for words, and a loss for actions.  “I’m so sorry,” was all he could say.

She smiled meekly at him.  “You’d think that a doctor who sees Felipe Casillas making an appointment would know better, but apparently not.  The first doctor told my father it was a privileged disease,” she continued to confess.  She noticed Fred’s eyes go wide at what she had just said.  “He told my dad that I had been a bored teenager, and a bored adult, and if my dad gave me something to do, I would grow out of it.”

“That’s horrible,” Fred commented.

“I know.  I’m pretty sure my dad tried everything in his power to get the guy’s medical licence revoked,” she said, slightly smiling.  “I’m okay now, if you’re wondering.  But it was a struggle for a really long time.”

“You’re so strong,” Fred blurted out, the filter between his brain and his mouth non-existent.  “You’re so, so strong.”

Aleida didn’t know whether to believe him.  She didn’t know if she was strong.  She never thought about it.  Other things, unfortunately, preoccupied her mind, and her strength and how she overcame something like that never took precedent.  She almost let it destroy her.  Maybe it did.  

There was nothing left to say.  Fred and Aleida knew there was nothing left to say.  Words exhausted them – he knew he didn’t exactly speak much, but he didn’t need to.  Aleida’s words – the more important words – hung in the air around them.  They continued to just stare at each other, his blue eyes and her hazel eyes communicating things that didn’t need to be said with words.

Then, Aleida moved closer.

And closer.

And then, she kissed him.  And he kissed her back.  And it was soft at first – like everything else to do with Fred, Aleida thought.  And then she kept kissing him.  And kissing him.  And kissing him.  And he kept kissing her.  And kissing her.  And kissing her.  And soon Aleida didn’t know where her lips started and Fred’s began.  And she didn’t need to guess what he tasted like, because he slipped his tongue into her mouth.  And he didn’t need to guess what she tasted like, because she slipped her tongue into his mouth too.  And they kissed.

And they kissed.

And they kissed.

“Aleida?” Fred’s voice mumbled against her lips as they caught their breath.

“Hm?”

“You have to start doing things that make you happy.”

She made sure she was looking him directly in the eye.  “I already am.”

[ckret2]

Chocolate Pudding

Venom accidentally loses the symbiote’s newest spawn and turns NYC upside down trying to find it.

Meanwhile, a four-year-old girl prods a pile of chocolate pudding.

This fic was written for Day 1 of @symbruary, prompt: "symbisona/symbiOC". Due to the fact that I am not a four-year-old girl, this is an OC, not a sona. This fic is not yet proofed due to the fact that I wrote it on my phone in a five-hour haze of symbiote-loving hyperfocus.

You: "Hey, where does this fic fit into Venom's comic continuity?" Me: *makes a wiggly hand motion*

###

"That should hold Spider-Man for a little bit," Venom said to themselves as they swung away from the collapsing parking garage. "If it doesn't outright squash him like the bug he is! Ha! But no—fate has never been so kind as to smile upon us that way. This is but a short reprieve, during which we can—"

There was a sensation inside their brain like a sticker peeling off of its backing as symbiote and host's consciousnesses separated. Uh-oh. Eddie.

"Hm?" Eddie tilted his head, as though to better hear the voice in his head. "What's wrong, my love?"

Think I dropped a baby.

"What?!" Venom nearly crashed into a skyscraper. They cracked a window and then clung to it as Eddie's heart leaped into his throat. For them to drop a poor innocent baby, especially at these heights, because that accursed Spider-Man had been hounding them—When had they been holding a baby—?

Not human, the symbiote quickly clarified. One of mine. Ours.

"Oh!" The panic drained out of Eddie; and then immediately returned. "We had a baby?! Where? When?"

Don't know; wasn't paying attention. Near Times Square?

"We'll have to hurry. Any kind of miscreant could pick it up there!" Venom kicked off the building, swinging back in the direction they'd come from.

###

Faye leaned over as far as she could with the teacher's vice grip on her hand, stretching her chubby brown fingers toward what looked to her like a pile of iridescent chocolate pudding sitting in the street just next to the curb. She couldn't quite reach it with how tightly the teacher was holding her hand.

The pudding reached back toward her.

The teacher's attention was split between watching traffic for a safe point to herd her charges across the street and scanning the sky to make sure the super villain that had crashed the children's home van wasn't looping back with Spidey to terrorize the square again. She glanced down once to make sure Faye wasn't about to fall off the curb, looked back at traffic, belatedly registered that she'd seen the fidgeting four-year-old reaching toward some nasty gutter gunk, and looked down again. "Faye! Don't touch—"

But there was no gunk. Just Faye, standing straight up, looking around in a startled daze like someone had just dragged her out of a daydream by setting off a party popper in her face.

The teacher didn't have time to worry about it—Faye was probably just stunned from the recent super fight—and the light had just changed. The teacher hustled her charges across the street.

Faye saw a woman passing the other way with bright neon green cornrows. She reached up and patted her own cloud of bouncy black hair, then twisted around in her teacher's grip to look back over her shoulder at the woman with the colorful hair, seeing how the braids zigzagged like lightning down the back of her head.

Little patches of bright green bloomed in Faye's hair, thread-thin tendrils mixing in with her natural hair. They wrapped around her hair like ivy weaving through a trellis, then wove the strands together, starting from her hairline and moving back. By the time they reached the other side of the street, five wide black-and-green braids inexpertly meandered back and forth over her head and dangled down to her shoulders.

It took the teacher two blocks to notice.

###

"We've turned the whole city upside-down," Venom lamented, sitting morosely atop an office building with their chin in a hand. "A whole week, and no sign of our youngest progeny! Where could it be? Hiding in the sewers, cold and alone with only rats and strays to meet its needs for sustenance and symbiosis?"

The dinosaur-people would know if so, the symbiote pointed out. They would say. Yes?

"That's true," Eddie said, relaxing slightly. "They know your scent, they'd know your child's too. Still, we should let them know to be on the lookout for one and to let us know if they find it." He tried to remember the nearest sewer entrance that wouldn't require them to pry up a manhole cover in the middle of a city street, and shot out a tendril to a taller building to swing them in that direction. "I just hope someone far fouler hasn't seized our innocent offspring," he said. "A criminal, a corporation, or, worse—an agent of the government."

###

The children's home's top social worker—certified agent of the government—watched through a partially cracked window as the four-to-six-year-olds played outside. She held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, listening to the hold music.

Faye tripped while running around between the faded playground equipment. The social worker saw her push herself up, rub her cheek vigorously, and inspect her scratched up bloody knee. Faye scrubbed the dirt off the scratch, and when she pulled her hand away the scratch was gone.

The social worker let out a low whistle.

The hold music stopped and the social worker sat up straighter. "Hi! Yes, this is... oh, hi, I think I spoke to you a couple of days ago." She laughed politely. "Yes, this is about the—Yes. Faye Fletcher. I was wondering about the uh, the procedures to enroll a child at Xavier's Institute if the child doesn't have legal guardians? I understand sometimes legal parents give up guardianship of their children to your institute, I don't know if the procedure is different if she's already a ward of the state—" The social worker fell silent a moment. "Four years old." She listened, then nodded. "Uh-huh. I see. See, our concern is—we don't have anyone on staff trained to help with, uh, gifted children, and since our grant doesn't allow us to hand gifted children to potential foster homes or adoptive parents unless they've passed a certification course—uh-huh. Oh, no no, I think it's great to make sure the parents are prepared, but it's—yes. It's going to make it harder to place her."

She listened a moment, watching the children outside play—a couple of the kids were pretending to be dogs, running around on all four and chasing after sticks other kids threw. The teacher on duty rushed over to stop them from putting the sticks in their mouths. Faye chucked a couple of sticks, but by this point there were more stick-throwers than pretend dogs to chase them, and hers were ignored.

"Oh, uh..." She checked her legal pad. "Nothing dangerous, so far. Shapeshifting. She keeps dying her hair, braiding and unbraiding it, and changing her clothes. I—yeah, the clothes shape-shift. They look like real clothing until they start shifting. And I just saw her patch up a wound, so self-healing. Mhm—no, while I was on the line with you, just in the last couple of minutes. I'm watching the kids play outside. Did you see the video attachment on my email? Of her braiding and unbraiding her hair?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, kind of like Medusa. That's what I was thinking."

She listened to another question. "No, the children aren't afraid of her—I think they're jealous of how she can 'play dress-up,' they call it. They—Oh! I should mention, she picked up an imaginary friend around the same time her powers developed. She calls it Chocolate Pudding. Some of the other kids say they've seen Chocolate Pudding, they think it's a ghost. That scared them."

The menagerie outside was expanding beyond dogs. One girl had started running around flapping her arms, cawing like an eagle; the teacher on duty had her hands full trying to keep the girl from climbing on the play equipment and jumping off. One boy yelled "I'm a dinosaur!" and started stomping across the playground with exaggeratedly large steps; a couple more joined in.

The social worker shrugged. "I don't—Chocolate Pudding could be anything, as far as we can tell. None of the staff has seen any such beast. We don't know if it's some sort of... of shared psychic hallucination? Or a shape-shifting trick she hasn't shown us yet, or just the kids being imaginative, or..." She trailed off. "Mhm. We don't know what to make of it."

Another kid yelled "I'm a dragon!" and charged at the first dinosaur, hissing loudly. Another cried, "We're a unicorn!"

"If she's not a fit for the Institute yet, then are you connected with any children's homes in the NYC area qualified to deal with gifted children? We don't want to foist her off on another home, but if she develops something that we don't have the support system to—" The social worker dropped her phone.

Faye was covered head to toe in a bubblegum pink second skin with a long mane of curly rainbow hair stretching down her back. Her eyes had been replaced by some cross between oversized anime eyes, multifaceted insect eyes, and sparkly rainbow-refracting diamonds. From the center of her forehead protruded a six-inch wicked-looking pearlescent horn.

They playground anarchy screeched to a halt as every child stared at her.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Faye grinned at them with wicked-looking pearlescent teeth.

Without breaking her gaze from the window, the social worker groped on the floor for her phone. "I've, uh, got something else you'll want to know."

The other children started screaming.

###

Peter Parker was awoken in the dead of night by a set of glowing white eyes. "What in the—!"

"Don't scream. We're not here to f—" Venom blocked Peter's foot. "We said we're not here to fight!"

"You're in my apartment!"

"You say that like we haven't been here before!"

"Yeah—usually to fight!"

They considered that, and shrugged. "Not this time. We're here—against our better judgment—to begrudgingly ask you to help us protect an innocent."

"At—" Peter looked for his clock, realized he'd knocked it off his bedside table in his flailing, and finished, "at whatever-it-is in the morning?!"

Venom shrugged again. "We couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep, oy..." Peter rubbed his face. "Okay. Okay, just—is this going to require me to get out of bed?"

"No. Just to be vigilant."

"Yeah, yeah, all right. Vigilant's my middle name. Ol' Spider-Vigilant-Man." He rubbed his eyes. "What is it?"

Venom's face peeled back, exposing Eddie's shadowed face. "We lost a child."

"Oh." Peter spent a couple of seconds trying to muster up as much basic human empathy as he could after being dragged out of an extremely peaceful sleep. "I'm, uh... I'm so sorry. Was it—sorry, I'm trying to figure out how this works—was it a miscarriage, or...?"

"No! I mean we lost it. We dropped it somewhere around Times Square a month ago." With great indignation, he added, "While defending ourselves from you."

"Defending, you're the one who—" He flopped back and rubbed his eyes again. "Ugh. Okay. So are we—are we talking about another Carnage here? Please say no."

"That depends on the human with whom it's bonded. Assuming it found a human at all."

"Well—wow—in Times Square? It could've landed in a tourist group and be in China by now."

"That's why we need your help!" Eddie said, jabbing a finger uncomfortably close to Peter's chest. "You move in circles we don't. The Fantastic Four, the Avengers—we can search for our child in New York's underbelly, but your web reaches much higher. We need you to be on the lookout for it. And if you find it, find us. We are qualified to deal with it—whether it can still be raised as a hero, or is already corrupt and needs to be put down."

"Rrright." Peter pushed Eddie's hand away. The symbiote stretching over Eddie's knuckles briefly clung to the ridges of Peter's fingerprints. Yuck. "You sure you don't just want me to—y'know—turn a flamethrower on it and let you know when the problem's solved?"

"No!" And Eddie was gone, hidden again behind a mass of snarling fangs. "We don't know yet that it's another Carnage! We will judge it. If there's any innocence left in it, we want to—to try to save it."

At another time, Peter might have argued against the wisdom of "saving" a parasite for any reason—but it was half past can't-see-his-clock a.m. and he was tired. "Okay," he said. "All right, you got it. If I find a bundle of bouncing baby bile, I'll—uh—track you down, I guess—"

"Leave us a message," Venom insisted. "At the bell tower. Where you were divorced and we were wed. We'll check there nightly."

Divorced. Peter let that word echo nightmarishly in his head a few times. "Got it. Bell tower."

"We'll be waiting." With that, Venom climbed off Peter's bed and vanished into the night.

They'd been gone for half a minute before Peter asked, "Did you break in through my window?"

###

The workers at the children's home just didn't know what to do with Faye.

They'd made what adjustments they could. They'd switched out the alarm clock for a radio alarm in her room when its shrill buzzing made her scream in pain and caused strange neon colors to ripple across her skin, and later they hurried her outside under a jacket when an older kid pulled a fire alarm to the same effect. The door buzzer from the entrance that prospective parents used—which played through speakers along the whole length of the main hall and was audible from nearly the whole building—had the same effect, but they didn't have the budget to replace it with a different bell. They'd had to turn off the buzzer completely and tape a note to the door telling visitors that the buzzer was broken and asking them to knock, with a number underneath to text if nobody heard the knock. They were doing the best they could to help Faye.

But they didn't know how to handle biting. Bad enough when the normal kids did it—normal kids didn't have inch long daggers in their mouths.

"Faye, sweetie," her teacher said gently, "you hurt Martin very badly. You know that, don't you?"

Arms crossed tightly, staring at her lap, kicking her feet, Fay nodded sullenly. She'd hidden her face behind a layer of tie-dye rainbow skin without a mouth, which she'd taken to doing (colors subject to change) when she didn't want to talk.

"I'm not mad," said the teacher, who was more terrified than anything, "but I need to to understand why."

"We're hungry." Her voice was muffled behind the mask.

That was the worst possible answer. "Faye, you can't—you can't eat your friends."

"Yes we can."

"You shouldn't," the teacher said quickly. "I saw you pushing your lunch around instead of eating it today. Wouldn't you be less hungry if you ate your lunch? Then you won't want to hurt your friends?"

"It was mac and cheese! We don't want mac and cheese!" She kicked her feet more agitatedly.

In danger of getting kicked in the knees, the teacher scooted slightly back. "What do you want for lunch?"

Faye slammed her hands down on the edge of her seat and her mouth peeled open like a zipper, revealing three rows of fangs, and roared, "Chocolate Pudding wants chocolate!"

The teacher stared at her, mouth open. Already knowing this was a fight she was going to lose, she said, "Faye, honey, a growing girl can't live on dessert—"

She started wailing.

###

"Are you good with kids, Peter?" J. Jonah Jameson asked.

"Oh, yeah, kids think I'm pretty cool," said Peter, thinking of all the little Spider-Mans he'd seen wandering around last Halloween.

"Great. Got a human interest story we need a couple of pictures for," Jameson said. He passed over a piece of paper with an address and several names. "Underfunded orphanage stuck with a mutant girl."

"'Stuck with'? Hey, now—"

"Not like that. Their funding isn't good enough to let them add a specialist to their staff, and the only two places in the state that are qualified to take mutant kids are overcrowded. I'm hoping if we whip up some public furor over this poor kid we can get 'em some donations—maybe shame legislature into increasing funding all around." He pointed at Peter. "So I want you to make Miss Fletcher look cute as hell, got it?"

"Yessir." Relieved Jameson wasn't asking him to vilify an orphaned child, Peter looked over the address.

"And see if you can get her to uh... 'play dress-up' for the camera." Jameson waved a hand vaguely. "They said it's some sort of shapeshifting? We won't use 'em if they're weird enough to rile up the anti-mutant crowd, but if it's cute maybe it'll tug a few heartstrings and film's cheap. Just get some normal shots as well."

"Will do!" Peter headed out the door, plotting his subway route to the children's home.

An hour later, Peter was standing alone in the children's home playground, wondering if he should leave a tip with the FBI for the Anti-Symbiote Task Force... or leave a note for Eddie Brock.

Which one did he trust to treat a preschooler better?

###

The teachers were practically crawling up the walls.

Faye was literally crawling up the walls.

And camouflaging with the wallpaper.

And tipping over bunk beds.

And kicking through wood doors.

And tearing up furniture with her unicorn horn.

Most incidents were the result of normal four-year-old rambunctious play, or the expected tantrums that came from being tired, hungry, or overwhelmed. But normal play and tantrums attached to super strength and a fluctuating array of sharp spikes were disasters waiting to happen. It was a miracle they hadn't had any more incidents as bad as Martin's hospital stay.

Half of Faye's diet was chocolate bars now. They didn't know if that was making things better or worse.

The last thing the head social worker needed was to open the door to her office and be greeted by the sight of Venom—whose muscles looked even bigger in person—sitting in one of the chairs usually reserved for prospective parents, one foot hooked over the other knee, grinning like the world's happiest shark. "Hello," he said.

The head social worker gaped. Venom stared expectantly at her. She whispered, "Hi."

"My other and I are looking to adopt," Venom said cheerfully. "Or, more precisely, to reclaim custody. We have reason to believe one of our children was mistakenly put up for adoption. A terrible error—we've been searching frantically for our darling child for weeks!"

The social worker mentally ran over the various manifestations of Faye's "mutation," working back to the day she's come home with green hair—and her teacher had shakily recounted the close encounter between their van and a super fight. "Oh."

Venom's smile twitched wider. "I see you know who it is! Is it our family resemblance?" His teeth gleamed hideously white as he gestured toward her seat behind her desk, as though commanding her to be seated so they could begin negotiations.

She didn't budge. "Please," she said, "don't hurt anyone here. All we have here are children, and they've already been through so much—"

"Madam, we would never!" Venom placed a hand on his chest, over the head of his white spider symbol. "We are a protector of the innocent! And who could be more innocent than poor, sweet children longing for a family, and the kind-hearted staff that care for them?" He paused. "But we're not leaving without our child." He gestured again toward her chair.

This time, she thought maybe she should take it.

As she sat, Venom asked, "What have you been calling our child?"

"Her name is Faye Fletcher."

For a moment, this answer seemed to puzzle Venom; but then he said, as though talking to himself, "Ah, yes; quite right. She must mean..." He leaned forward slightly, fixing the social worker with what she could tell even with Venom's blank white eyes must have been a piercing stare. "And what has Faye been calling her other?"

###

It was the fastest and most wildly illegal adoption in the history of the NYC Administration for Children's Services. The terrified social worker informed Venom of the thirty hour parenting class most parents were required to take before adopting a child, as well as the five hour supplement for parents taking in mutants—although at this point she no longer had any idea whether that information would be at all helpful for Faye—and Venom reassured her so sincerely that he would attend the first class he could find that she actually believed him.

Even if he didn't go, she was sure he'd have a better idea of how to care for Faye than any of them did. And that instinct was only reinforced when he suddenly lifted his head and turned toward the door as though he'd picked up a familiar scent a full fifteen seconds before Faye came barreling into the office.

With reflexes so fast he almost looked like a blur, he dropped to one knee and spread his arms just in time to catch Faye in a great bear hug, the both of them wearing identical fangy grins. "We knew you'd still be an innocent," he said, holding her out by the shoulders to take a good look at her, taking her in from horn tip down to pink feet. "Unicorns are always innocent. Isn't that what you are, a sweet little unicorn?"

Faye giggled, sounding like a girl her age should for the first time in days.

When they left, Venom carrying Faye Fletcher Brock (and Chocolate Pudding) in his arms, he'd grown a gleaming white unicorn horn to match hers.

###

Fic also available on AO3, link in my description. If you enjoyed the fic, I’d appreciate a reblog or comment!

[ladyirontiger]

LIT LEGACY RULES

LADYIRONTIGER (LIT) LEGACY

Here's my take on the old legacy challenge found here.

BASIC RULES:

Lifespan: normal

Money: cheats are allowed, I guess, but that does take some of the fun out of it. Generations can leave inheritances for the heirs not to exceed 10k.

Housing: sims can move from one generation to the next, but not during the generation. i.e. gen 1 must live in ONE place only; however, gen 2 can move out and then live in one place only.

Colors: are just listed to help me keep the generations straight during gameplay. You don’t have to use them.

Traits: Are just suggestions; however, the heir must inherit ONE trait from the previous generation.

SUCCESSION RULES:

Gender Law: MATRIARCHY - The Founder must be female. Only girls are eligible to be named heir unless there are no female children, at which point boys become eligible for that generation.

Bloodline Law: STRICT TRADITIONAL - To be eligible to be named heir, a child must be naturally born from their previous-generation parents and be able to trace an unbroken bloodline back to the founder. Adopted children may never be named heir.

Heir Law: LIVING WILL - The eligible child with the highest friendly relationship score with their previous-generation’s parent will be named heir. If there’s a tie, preference goes to THE FIRST BORN.

Species Law: TOLERANT - The species of the child has no impact on their eligibility for heir status

Gen 1: The Old Soul (yellow)

It’s almost as if you were born in the wrong era. You do everything the old-fashioned way, down to the way you “court” not date, and the way you dress. You’re naturally nurturing, and energetic. You’d do anything for your family. You’re the perfect matriarch, no matter what year it is.

Traits: dog lover, creative, active

Aspiration: Lord/Lady of the Knits

Career: Stay at Home Parent/Plopsy Seller

Rules:

Live anywhere except the city

Have a dog. Teach it 3 tricks. Become its companion

Have 2 children. Become good friends with both

Have one partner only. Do not have romance with anyone else.

Master Gourmet Cooking (reach level 10) and Pet Training skills (reach level 5)

Gen 2: The Homesteading YouTuber (purple)

Your parents provided everything you could ever want, and you’re so grateful. You’re going to pay it forward to make the world you live in a better place for yourself and your own children. You’re documenting your eco adventures for posterity and to increase the reach your message of sustainability.

Traits: active, maker, music lover

Aspiration: Eco Innovator

Career: Social Media Internet Personality

Rules:

Graduate from university. Do not live on campus

Have 2 children

Become a 5-star celebrity

Live in a tiny home, or in Evergreen Harbor, or both (a tiny home in Evergreen Harbor)

Master the violin and photography skill (reach level 10)

­Gen 3: The Moody Musician (blue)

Living in the shadow of a perfect parent, and constantly being hounded by paparazzi wasn’t easy growing up. It left you with a profound distrust of people. The one thing your parent did give you, which you’re grateful for, is a passion for music. You’re determined to make your own way in the world, away from the cameras, and share your passion with aspiring young minds. While you love teaching, and you’re unswervingly dedicated to your craft, you lack the flair for parenting that your mother and grandmother had. Though you try your best.

Traits: music lover, loner, hot headed

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Education Professor

Rules:

Live in the city

Leave someone at the alter. Never marry.

Have only one child

Write a book

Master 2 instruments (reach level 10)

Gen 4: The Adventurer (green)

While your music-loving parent is in their own head, all you can dream of is getting out, being in nature, under the stars, and having a big, loving family. You want your children to feel connected to the outdoors the way you do, and the way your grandmother did.

Traits: hot headed, loves outdoors, outgoing

Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

Career: Conservationist

Rules

Have three children

Mentor all children in fitness

Go camping as a family

Go to the beach as a family

Master the fitness and comedy skills (level 10)

Become good friends with grandchild heir

Gen 5: The Good Wife (red)

It’s hard for you to commit to relationships because you’re so focused on your career. Having a big family was nice and all, but having to share resources and fight for attention isn’t something you want to ever relive. You’re the star of your own show both in your romantic relationships and in the courtroom. That means there just isn’t room for your children to be more than props in your life. They’ll live.

Traits: outgoing, noncommittal, romantic

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Career: Law Judge

Rules

Go to University. Do not live on campus.

Have at least 2 failed relationships before marrying

Have 2 children by 2 different partners. Be disliked by both children

Master the debate & charisma skills (level 10)

Gen 6: The Spy Mom (black)

With a mom seemingly married to justice, who had no time for you, it was easy to get away with sneaking around, and little swipes here and there. You honed your skills for manipulation and deception, and now you’re putting them to good use. You still want to have a family, but keeping your job a secret for their safety inevitably causes an irreparable rift between you and your children.

Traits: romantic, kleptomaniac, family oriented

Aspiration: Soulmate

Career: Secret Agent Diamond Agent

Rules

Become best friends with grandparent (heir from gen 5)

Marry a good sim, then divorce

Have at least 2 children, be disliked by one of them.Master logic skill (level 10)Mentor children in logic

Gen 7: The Bake Sale Mom (pink)

Finding out your mother is a secret agent is bound to make an impact, and on you it certainly has. All you want is a “normal” life, and a big, loving family. You love baking, and feeding your loved ones brings you great joy. You turn your passion into a business, and you get your family to be part of it all. Money might be tight at times, and things aren’t always easy, but you’re doing it together. That’s what matters.

Traits: family oriented, foodie, perfectionist

Aspiration: Big Happy Family

Career: Chef

Rules

Master the baking and parenting skills (level 10)

Have 5 children and be close friends with all of them

Own a retail store or restaurant

Have a weekly family dinner with all extended family still living

Gen 8: The Silicon Valley Mom (white/beige)

Gaming takes you to another world. Not that this one is bad or anything, but you enjoy being a hero, and the stories about your grandmother the spy fuel your desire for (safer) adventures. Unfortunately for your children, you have unrealistic expectations of them, and hold them to impossibly high standards.

Traits: perfectionist, geek, ambitious

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru eSports Gamer

Rules:

Master programming and video gaming skill (reach level 10)

Have two children be geniuses, get honor roll, and max out 2 skills

Have a weekly bowling night with family

Gen 9: The Orange County Mom (peach/orange)

You’ve grown accustomed to a certain standard of living, and you’re much too smart and good looking to let it go to waste. You’re goal is to become fabulously wealthy by any means necessary. Being a bawse isn’t always easy, so you take every opportunity to relax with some yoga or a spa outing. As nice as it would be to have your children join the family business, it’s a dangerous game.

Traits: ambitious, materialistic, snob

Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy

Career: Criminal Boss or NONE

Rules:

Have three “frenemies” of the same gender who are also snobs

Marry a sim for money not for love

Master the wellness and handiness skill (level 10)

Mentor a child in handiness.

Gen 10: The Flower Child (teal)

You can’t be tied down by the man, but you don’t want to turn to a life of crime like your mother. You’re level-headed, and you know what you want out of life: fun and freedom. Some might say your job is frivolous, but your family has a history of being at one with nature, and being popular. You want to marry for love like your great, great…grandmother. You just want to be…excellent.

Traits: snob, self-assured, cheerful

Aspiration: Party Animal

Career: Gardener

Rules:

Master flower arranging, singing, and mixology

Have one child of your own, and adopt one

Have a cat

Marry someone you adore

Write your memoir

Write your family’s history

[ramblingguy54]

How do you feel about the sudden shift in pacing in SUF? Personally, I was so disconcerted at first, I thought that it was /worse/ than the original series, then I rewatched, and realized that it was just really different. It's definitely a lot more blunt in the humor, and of course there's the whole Steven-not-knowing-everything-anymore-thing. What do you think?

The overall pacing of Steven Universe Future has been very enjoyable!

I genuinely find it to be pretty damn good actually, as its focus is crystal clear on where it should be. That being Steven Universe’s inner dilemma of what he’s supposed to do now the whole massive conflict with the Diamonds has been solved. As much as I loved Steven Universe’s story when it focused on the main conflict surrounding the Crystal Gems against their own planet and learning more about each of them, along with Rose’s entire backstory too, it still suffered from some of the Beach City episodes dragging it down in the pacing when it could’ve focused more on the other characters, like further exploring Lapis and Peridot’s chemistry for example. That isn’t to say I hated every single one, as some were actually enjoyable and gave me an appreciation for them in a sense. Sometimes it’s okay to take a breather and have a simple slice of life episode. Fun fact, I didn’t get into watching the OG series, until the movie was released last year, so that gave me more of a tolerance for the Beach City episodes. Makes me very glad that I waited this long because hoo boi some of the hiatus issues I’ve heard about from a close friend of mine, who got into watching this series when it first aired back then, weren’t pretty. LMAO!

Anyways, the idea surrounding Steven’s characterization of not-knowing-everything-anymore-thing, as you’ve put it, isn’t actually as weird, from I’ve heard some people make it out to be for a form of criticism that people on Tumblr have made rebuttals against before. It’s wonderfully consistent with what Steven’s character is all about and that’s trying to figure out his place in the world. This has always been a consistent struggle for himself, like the lyric mentioned in the full version of the series opening from Steven.

“I will fight to be everything that everybody wants me to be when I’m grown!”

Steven’s whole internal conflict surrounds not knowing whether or not he can exactly be like his mother, which puts a shit ton of insecurities on his own self-worth into trying to fit in with the other Crystal Gems because he’s not your average-every-day-kid that you see in society. He’s a special hybrid of human/gem that neither side of the species connected to him has ever seen before and that puts a ton of pressure onto how the boy feels a need to connect with both sides of himself. While he already has a deeply loving relationship with his father, Greg, Steven also wants to better understand that Gem lineage and why his mother was so revered by what he perceives to be these amazing warriors, who fight evil. Never mind putting this onto a kid’s existence, as soon as he or she’s brought into reality, but even an adult would struggle a lot with all this stuff. As the original story progressed, Steven learns all of the hardships the Crystal Gems faced many centuries ago and what his own mother did to protect the Earth in exchange for many issues Steven would have to handle, as soon as Pink Diamond gave up herself to create the child.

Holy shit, did he ever have to handle the baggage from Pink Diamond.

You should’ve shattered me back then. At least if I were in pieces, I wouldn’t have to know how little I mattered to you. You didn’t even tell em. You bubbled me away and didn’t ever tell your friends! MY friends!

I’m going to tell them. I’m gonna tell them everything.

Then you really are better than HER…

Pivotal moments, like in the episode centered around Bismuth, paint everything in an entirely different light for Steve’s ideals based around his mother. At first, Rose Quartz was implied to be an individual who could do no wrong to any living thing, but hindsight from Bismuth’s trauma paints everything in an entirely different light for this poor boy having to take on the entire blunt of this figurative dagger. A question that is represented in the episode, Storm In The Room.

Did you make me, just so you wouldn’t have to deal with all your mistakes!?

Is that all I’m here for…?

I’ve went into more detail about this episode in a previous ask surrounding this topic, so you can check that one out in your free time, but the point I’m making here is Steven has centered a lot of himself around the idea of Rose Quartz being a self-less individual and helped many others through her actions that put this entire series into motion in the first place, but when all of that from this kid’s perspective is thrown out the window through tragic events that also happened in part because of her decisions, Steven starts questioning everything about his life. I’d like think in these moments Steven’s internal dialogue is worded around these types of statements.

“I wanted to be a savior, like her. Although, she did bad things, too! Am I no different from her? Can I truly help people without hurting them in the process?”

That’s why he helped the Crystal Gems in The Test Season 1 episode feel better about their own issues, while hiding how hurt the boy felt about being lied to about the obstacle course being 100% percent un-failable because Steven adopted the selfless image of his mother in this important moment. Steven listened in on a private conversation he had no business hearing from Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that fueled this idea further of becoming a savior to all living things and put into perspective that these “amazing warriors” were in fact very insecure like himself and needed Steven in their lives, just as much as he did.

That’s why he helped heal Lapis before.

That’s why he helped Peridot open her eyes and come outta her shell.

I could go on and on, but in a nutshell Steven has made life revolve around others so much that feels only natural to help anyone he can, considering that’s what his mother believed in. Even if they’re morally questionable individuals, Steven still tries to see the good in everyone. His angry statements against Lars attitude about Rose put all of that into perspective to contemplate about.

What do you know about my mom!? I didn’t even get to know my mom, but I do know she saw beauty in everything! Even in stuff like this and even in jerks like you!

Steven’s only known what to do because he’s adopted the ideals of his mother so much. Kind of like being brought into existence like your typical Gems, where they’re programmed to feel that way and commit the actions they’re all built for. It’s poetic honestly that he’s helped everyone, but not himself in the long run. These issues were piling on since the start because Steven didn’t have to worry about feeling inferior because he could always help everyone in this series, but now that the events of Steven Universe Future have occurred this puts everything into a more deeply poignant light for the kid entering a more mature phase of his life now and is going to reflect on every little aspect of himself.

There’s no such thing as happily ever after. I’ll always have more work to do.

But if there’s nothing to work out…

Steven Universe Future is a brilliant character study pay off to all those five seasons that were paving the way to this cementing the idea that Steven has issues that are spiraling outta control from putting all of independence into the idea that he has to be a savior like his mother was. Much like how Spinel was so attached to Pink Diamond as a “best friend”, Steven puts so much faith into the mindset that he has must stick his guns and stay that perfect savior everyone knows/loves. It’s unhealthy emotional attachment that is coming to light with these Pink outbursts of his. While he still loves what his mother stood for, despite feeling very conflicted about her in general these days, still strives to be the best parts of her and not the worst, hence the ending of the Rose Buds episode where he puts the painting of her pure persona into Lion’s mane realm.

It’s entirely reversed roles now where the Crystal Gems and mostly everyone are fine, but Steven is far from being emotionally stable currently in recent events. Steven Universe The Movie built the subversive punchline that this epilogue series has been delivering strongly on so far and hope it will continue to do so. I’ve loved how they’ve deconstructed Steven’s characterization.

To end this lengthy post, I’ll refer to these words from Jasper that sums up everything on Steven’s issues. She may have been seriously harsh, but Jasper aint wrong in some ways about Steven feeling very low on himself in general.

You think everyone needs help, but its only you! No one is as pitiful as you!

On a side note, regarding the humor real quick in Future, I can see why you’d think its more blunt. It’s very on the nose with how much it pokes fun at itself, but honestly I don’t have issues with it all. I don’t know about you, but I find it fucking hilarious how they’ve been openly taking potshots at their previous ideas in the story line. I’m always down for a creative team being snarky with themselves!

Thanks for taking the time to read this detailed post of mine! =)

[thevirtualcanvas]

You don’t really know someone until you go on a desert island together ~

Steven's birthday aka the time Connie lured Steven to Watermelon island because I don’t want Steven to be sad anymore. 

Yesterday was a really angsty piece. Today we get to see how he gets his first kiss. Hope you’re all ready for some proper fluff.

“Cmon Steven! We're almost there!”

They were on Watermelon Island, he knew that much. The first thing that gave it away was, well, he was the one that warped them there. The second was the split mountain that hung over his head behind the now fixed warped pad. The third thing was the party of Watermelon-Stevens that welcomed them with a bubbly joy, dragging him by one hand as Connie took the other.

“Connie, where are we going? There's so much to be done before little homeschool opens. My itinerary is clogged,” he thought of the planner on his phone, full of meetings, and jobs and far too many things to do.

Her laughter was infectious, her bright eyes warmed Steven's cheeks. “Well, Mr. Itinerary, I cleared your calendar for the day. Little home-world will just have to do without you, for a couple of hours anyway.”

“Connieeee,” he whined, haphazardly. It was so nice to see her, between his work orchestrating repairs after Spinel, integration of the gems, and meetings with his space Aunts; and Connie's high workload from school and her Mom they saw each other in glimpses. Mostly through video chats and the occasional moonlit jaunt via Lion. So holding her hand, and being led through the crystal jungle of the watermelon island – he could think of worse days to spend his birthday.

The palm trees gave way, the grass turned to sand and a beautiful cacophony of blues decorated the horizon, Steven had forgotten how nice it was here, relaxing even. On the sand sat a banner – Happy 16th Birthday Steven in Connie's lovely cursive handwriting. Beneath that was a picnic basket, blanket, his ukulele, and her violin and another batch of Watermelon-Steven's completing the finishing touches. He wasn't going to cry. Probably.

Connie held her hand out-stretched. “Ta-dah! Happy Birthday, Steven! You didn't think I'd forget, did you?”

“Connie, this is...this is incredible, thank you.”

He walked, enraptured by his surprise. The Watermelon-Stevens scampered to give them some privacy and peace. Steven kicked off his sandals, wriggled his toes in the sand, plonked himself down on the blanket and picked up his ukulele. The instrument had been sat in a stand on the shelf for months. Since the events of Spinel and her injector, he'd lost his child-like wonder, concerned that another attack could happen any moment, Steven had focused more on growing-up; putting away anything that would deem him childish, expanding little home-world, dealing with actual home-world and the Diamonds. His passion, his music, that had taken an unfortunate back-seat. He plucked at the strings, the sound reverberating through his fingers and up the length of his spine. Steven shivered, he missed this.

He took a deep breath, the first one in a long time, he listened to the sound of the ocean, the rustle of the palms and relaxing sounds of Connie breathing next to him. She plucked her violin first, playing and humming along to a creation of their own design.

The sun is bright, our shirts are clean.

Connie smiled brightly at him, loose strands of her pinned back hair danced among the breeze.

We're sitting up above the sea

Was her voice always this beautiful? It sounded like silk in his ears.

Come on and share this jam with me.

She looked at him expectantly, nodding her head as she strummed and hummed the tune. Carefully, slowly, Steven strummed along. In the back of his mind, he was worried he forgot, or worse, didn't want to. But that worry melted away at her sweet harmony, and sweeter face. As the mismatch of ukulele and violin merged tunes, Steven hummed in time with Connie, pulling up the unforgettable lyrics from his mind.

Peach or plum or strawberry.

Any kind is fine you see.

Come on and share this jam with me.

They played together, the simple chord a testament to their friendship, their devotion to one another and the memories of a simpler time. Playing again with Connie, it was the best present he could have ever asked for. To be in her presence, to forget about his responsibilities for just a little while – sure, her laugh, rich eyes, brilliant smile, lithe dexterous hands, and lean figure, made Steven a tad nervous and weak at the knees but it was Connie, his Connie and that was perfect.

I'll do my best to give this jam the sweetness it deserves ~

He sung at her, waggling his eyebrows in time to the vibrato, causing her to laugh, scrunching her nose.

And I'll keep it fresh.

Jammin' on these tasty preserves!

She sung back with enthusiasm, the fine strings of her violin plucking hard at her rocking out.  

Steven's heart was racing, he hadn't felt this happy in months. Not true joy, not like this. Connie picked up her bow and slowed the rhythm down, ready for the climax of the song. Waiting on his queue, she watched her best friend carefully.

Ingredients in harmony.

We mix together perfectly.

Come on and share this jam with me.

The tune faded naturally, petering out in the ambiance of the ocean. They both breathed heavily, the duet taking more out of them then it would have done nearly 3 years ago. Steven placed his ukulele down, content, and Connie followed suit, keeping her eyes firmly on him. She moved closer, so their knees and hips were touching as they looked out onto the ocean.

“Jam buds, back in action,” Connie laughed, nudging him in the side. “Not bad, Mr. Itinerary.”

Steven snorted and nudged her back, taking off his sports jacket and wrapping it around his waist before leaning back into her. “I thought you're supposed to be nice on my birthday.”

“I am being nice,” she responded with a giggle. “Besides, this isn't the only thing I've planned for you. We're gonna have dinner with my parents, your dad and the gems later. Peridot is 'constructing' the birthday cake, my present for you is at the beach house and – ” She hummed and cleared her throat. A dusky hue rose on her cheeks.

“And?” Steven asked, curious.

Connie twiddled her fingers, puffed her cheeks and risked a glance at him. Steven had grown so much since dismantling the Diamond Authority. He was taller, give it another few months and he'd be taller than her for the first time in their friendship. His shoulders were broader, the material of the band shirt he wore stretched over his shoulder blades. His arms and legs had elongated, but she loved the way they felt around her. Connie felt a smug satisfaction whenever he would sit behind her, legs outstretched, arms around her neck. He would rest his chin against her shoulder as they watched a movie marathon, or Connie would read her newest book aloud to him. Steven's jaw, while still soft and round showed signs of a beard under the surface, the slightest five o'clock shadow discoloured his lower face. He would scratch absently, as if not quite used to this newfound adulthood. And what could she say, she'd noticed. Her jam bud was growing-up, and so was she.

“And...I have one more surprise. If you want it.”

His eyes lit up. “A secret present, what is it?” Steven pursed his lips and shook with joy. “Where are you hiding it? Do the Watermelon-Steven's have it? Oh man, I love surprises!”

She chuckled at his enthusiasm, this would make the next part of her surprise so much easier. He made everything easier. “Good to know you're not too old for surprise presents. Steven, do you trust me?”

He creased his brow, what kind of question was that. “Of course I do, Con. You're my best friend.”

Not for much longer if she had anything to say about it. This was a turning point in Connie's life. She loved Steven. She'd tell anyone as much. But recently a lot of mature thoughts crossed her mind; and between the trips in the Dondai, visits to the beach house and increasingly more tense sleepovers, Connie realised something. She loved Steven. Which didn't change much overall; she would do anything for him, want to be in his life for the rest of hers and, jam on the beach whenever possible. But she also wanted to kiss that adorable face of his.

“Good, so face me, and close your eyes. Keep 'em closed too. No peaking.” He complied, swiveled around, knees crossed, hands-on lap, and eyes locked tight.

Connie leaned forward, taking a sallow breath. She reached out of him, fingertips connecting with his cheeks warm at her touch. She could feel his cheeks dimple as he smiled, turning his head into her fingers. Connie brought her face closer, seeing the pores on his skin, his long lashes, and his soft pink lips.

His eyelids trembled a bit, like he was trying to search for her behind them. Connie, what are you – ”

“Don't peak,” she whispered, wetting her lips, running her fingers down to his neck and feeling as Steven hitches and freezes.

“Connie...” His breath felt hot against her lips, and name danced across her skin.

“Happy birthday, Steven.”

Her lips met his, certain, lacking confidence but wanting. They trembled against one another, this was new, scary and exciting all at once. Steven's hands mirrored hers, buried into the hair at the base of her neck, terrified to explore and desperate to hold. He turned his head, pressing his face further into hers. Button nose pressing into her cheek, tight curls brushed against her brow.

Connie pulled back, flustered, gasping for breath,  hands around his neck, playing with the curls at his hairline. She licked her lips, tasting him against them.

Steven opened his eyes and touched his lips, feeling where Connie had just kissed him. He was shocked, giddy and he really wanted to do it again. He pressed his forehead against hers, interlocked his fingers around her back and grinned. How long had he daydreamed about this moment?

“Connie?”

“Yeah, Steven?”

“That was definitely a surprise.”

She snorted, rubbing her forehead against his. “I'm glad.”

He bit his lip, deep brown eyes reflected into hers. “Can we do it again?”

Their stomachs grumbled in tandem, Connie opened the picnic basket and reached for the sandwich on the top of the pile and shoved it into his mouth. “Maybe, after our picnic, and away from prying eyes.” She motioned to the sheepish group of Watermelon-Steven's half-poking out of the brush behind them. Some gave a little wave, others blew a kiss of their own.

“R-right,” Steven said with a mouthful of jam and bread.

Connie waved back to them before taking a sandwich of her own. She shuffled back up to Steven, her Steven and they enjoyed their picnic in peace and quiet. The tension was gone, replaced by a fondly remembered quiet comfort between them. His hand around her waist, her knee against his thigh, watching as the crystals danced in the shallow waters and the sun changed colour in the sky.

“Thanks for dragging me away from gem stuff,” he said after a while.

“You're welcome, it is your birthday, y'know.”

“I know... Connie?”

She turned to him, mid-afternoon light bringing out the warmth in her skin. “Yeah, Steven?”

His hands found her, connecting perfectly. He should just say it, he'd thought about it a million times before.

“I love you,” it was barely above a whisper, and he couldn't look her in the eyes. But he said it. He'd told her. He was holding his breath and going pink in the face. Thankfully not that kind of pink.

He watched as her face turned the same shade of pink as him, she reassured him with a squeeze of his chunky fingers and gave him the exact answer he needed. “Love you too, Steven.”

Maybe he could keep celebrating his birthday after all?

[nookishposts]

Managing Messages

It would appear that there is a sea change going on in my brain. Self-reflection seems to be a mid-life given and I believe that has ramped up for many of us during restricted pandemic conditions. Once we tired of bread making and Netflix binges and being unable to wear anything but buffet pants, many of us got contemplative; involuntary monks in retreats that needed dusting.

As a storyteller I listen a lot and try to see the funny in the foibles and fairy-tales of everyday living. We tell ourselves whatever we need to in order to get from place to place,between frustrations and surprises, for better or worse. Case in point : “I will eat this last cookie, in addition to the two I just had, because it would be silly to put the bag back in the cupboard with just one cookie left.” Please tell me it’s not just me....

Rules of comportment have changed a lot in the last year and we have been more often confronted with the quirks of our own company.  We examine the world through a lens of a necessarily more domestic perspective, noticing the dust dinosaurs under the bookshelf from our horizontal couch-lolling, seeing the cobwebs near the ceiling, remembering that we’d promised to freshen the cupboards with a coat of paint, and scrolling, scrolling, scrolling the hours away.

There are things I promised myself last November that I would spend the Winter doing; among them squats my own personal elephant-in-the-living-room; the actual work of assembling/organising some of my writing for publication. I have promised myself this every Autumn for the last 4 years, maybe more. Not following up has absolutely nothing to do with the pandemic and everything to do with the mixed messages in my early brain-wiring that I have managed until now to avoid reconciling. No, I am not blaming my parents for my failures; but I am finally acknowledging that they inadvertently gave me a puzzlement of fears to figure my way through. Analysis paralysis. That particular writing assignment is way overdue. I guess I have to start somewhere. 

My parents, both born pre-Depression grew up in financial poverty, in families that strove to keep them fed and sheltered rather than striving for the sake of striving itself. Neither finished school because it was just not a priority next to taking on some responsibility for keeping the families basic needs of living met. They were taught to keep their heads down and noses-to-the-grindstone, to never think of aspiring beyond their “station” in life or if they did, to keep it to themselves. Which I think they did. I don’t recall either of them ever talking about having dreams for themselves except in the most self-deprecating or pipe-dreaming kind of manner, as if dreams were to be sloughed off, abandoned to the past, along with childhood.

So I grew up the eldest child of two very hard-working people whose attitudes combined in a united defensive front against those they’d been taught to believe were their “betters”; people like academics, doctors, and politicians. People of means, likely inherited. People of power and influence, genetically programmed to screw the little guy. Seriously. 

I was a dreamer from the get-go. I had a hearty imagination fuelled by a belief in magic and a natural disinclination to follow the rules, a deeply curious little kid who had a knack for remembering and a sense of wonder at the world itself. My parents, like most of their generation were more concerned that I be prepared for harsh reality than for questioning the status quo. I too was to work hard, keep my head down, and not entertain any real ambition for fear of life beating it out of me. They both knew how to laugh and were not without creativity, but all of it was directed and drained off in matters of pure practicality. 

Mixed messages have dogged me ever since, though I have long been of an age where I know it is my responsibility to  unravel things for myself. Distilled, the messages that I carry are as follows: from Dad it was “who the hell do you think you are with your book-learning and big words? You think you are better than us? The hell you are!” And from Mum it was: “Well, good for you, but don’t get used to success because it doesn’t ever last.”  Both attitudes came from fear, his from being usurped or found wanting and hers from being afraid of serial disappointment. Translated in my brain, those echoing, looping messages have kept me from believing it is okay to just take a grand leap of faith in myself. Good lord, what if I fail and embarrass us all?! The child in my brain wrestles with the adult who logically knows there are no guarantees either way, but that to do nothing is also futile.

I am a storyteller. My maternal grandparents were too. I read from a very young age and made up my own stories, even inventing a couple of imaginary friends to take along on my adventures. In school, I loved to read and write and went through systematic progressive phases of writing poetry and one-act plays and folk songs and short fiction. As an adult, I have written as therapy, for myself and for others of my generation who can relate to the things we all go through but I am willing to write and often laugh about. Writing is confession, and community, and collective consciousness. For me it’s most often spontaneous, off-the-cuff riffs about flushed car keys and public prat falls. Stories are how I make sense of the World, as well as the world of possibility. I write, I send it out like a flimsy paper airplane and hope it doesn’t crash too soon.

This past Winter I was all set to organise the many musings that I have blurted out on Facebook, in my blog, as a result of writing groups and workshops and the encouragement of kind readers. I wanted to prepare for publication a collection of mostly lighthearted observational spit-takes and rim-shots. But I didn’t do it. Every time I sat down, I would find a distraction to wander towards instead of the focus I needed to cobble my pieces (literal and figurative) together.  I have watched friends publish works over the past two years and been so very proud and thrilled for them, admiring of and inspired by what they have done. Yet, I seem paralyzed in my own attempts.  They tell me this is quite normal, this abject terror of imposter-ing, of discovering that I am just not any good at what I love so much that it is a significant part of my identity and therefore too personal to withstand the possibility of repeated wounds of rejection.

Possibility. It’s a double-edged sword  of a word if ever there was one. We could fall. Or we could fly. The net between the two is full of holes.

I hear the words again; “who do you think you are?” and “don’t get used to it” and they stop me in my tracks, they burst the shiny pink bubble of joy that comes with delicious combinations of sounds and ideas, and I drop to the ground in a heap, feeling simply foolish, embarrassed to be caught dreaming. But I am a big girl, and I know full well that the real joy is in the doing, and the real fear is in the letting go...in sending those bubbles of joyous play and pondering out to fend for themselves in a world where most are shot out of the sky with a sharp stone from the slingshot of publishers simply trying to dig through a constant avalanche of submissions to find their own diamond..a money-maker that will keep the rent paid and the doors open. It’s really  just a different degree of striving isn’t it?

I don’t ever expect to make much money from writing, although between copy-writing and biographies, I do make some. I would like to find the guts to write one really good book made up of many quirky little parts, something that other people could enjoy and relate to. (Yes,I’d settle for a bathroom book.)The very best part for me about telling a story are the stories that other people tell in response..that lovely, luscious, leveller of hearing “me too!” makes me feel like I’ve accurately described our human-ness. It’s that thing connects us all.

I’ve read lots advice from writers I admire...all the bits about getting my ass into a chair and just DOING it, letting a good editor chip the mud away from the motherlode, and suspending self-criticism in deference to those people paid to do it as their part of the journey toward publication. I have researched the publishers who accept the kind of work I think I write (that definition is hard!) and I have several versions of my elevator-pitch all ready to go. I have a ton of material to be shaped, and another ton in my head yet to be written down. What I am currently working on, the linchpin to all the rest, is courage. And perhaps a refresh button on my discipline. I really want to do this in spite of and perhaps to some degree, because of those old worn thin mixed messages. Wish me well.

[p-artsypants]

Longest Night (27) Grooming

Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she'd give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama. But she couldn't. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic

Ao3 | FF.net 

Let’s take breath, shall we?

—

Paris was a city trapped in time. The rain blurred the past from the future, the happy and the sad, the night and the day. Erik Satie tried to emulate this effect with his Gymnopedie, and the impressionist painters worked with soft edges to create an atmosphere of calming mystery.

Here, on the sidewalk somewhere in Montparnasse, Adrien and Marinette, or rather, Grimalkin and Lady Lacrima, stood in the haze, freedom and imprisonment blurring lines. They were out, Salo was dead…

But it didn’t really feel real.

Lady Lacrima stood back and looked to her partner.

His eyes were dilated, a small smile on his lips. He ever so gently reached up and brushed her bangs out of her face.

Returning his smile, she took his hand and interlaced their fingers. Then they started to walk.

It was too wet to take to the rooftops, and in this weather, no one was out. Still, as they walked, they passed big picture windows. Businesses closed for the night, cafés dimmed with candlelight, people in their own little bubbles, completely unaware of the monsters stalking outside.

They walked passed a salon, empty, save for a woman with a blonde bun sweeping. The lights were warm, and the atmosphere looked friendly and inviting. There was a tv on the wall, with Nadja on the screen. She was reporting on them. A screen capture of their final words to the camera shown on a small screen next to her. Lady Lacrima couldn’t hear what was being said, but by the grave look on Nadja’s face, it wasn’t good.

Without much thought, Lady Lacrima pushed on the door, and went inside.

The air smelled of chemicals, of hairspray and dye. But also fruity and clean. Soft music played as the woman worked.

“Just a second!” Called the woman, alerted by a bell at their entrance. She leaned the broom against the wall. “I’m so sorry, we’re about to close, but I can take you down for an appointment to—AHHH!” She spoke before turning around, but when she saw them in their appearance, she shrieked.

Neither of the akuma reacted to it, considering the amount of screams they had heard not so long ago.

Another woman with short black hair ran out of the back room at the scream and skittered to a stop at the sight of them. She looked like she was about to scream too, but held it back.

“We wanted out of the rain.” Explained Lady Lacrima, blankly.

The blonde woman snatched up the broom like a weapon, trembling in her limbs.

But the other woman relaxed ever so slightly, and took a few steps towards them. “Marinette? Honey, it’s me, Jillian. You remember right?”

“…Jillian?”

“That’s right. I cut your hair every few months. It’s alright.” She took another step towards her, but Grimalkin stood in between and hissed.

“Oh! And Adrien! We’ve…we’ve never met, but we’re all big fans of yours.” She pointed to a poster on the wall, an old ad with his face on it.

Grimalkin’s eye twitched, but he calmed down slightly.

Jillian looked to her coworker. “Kelly, put that thing down. We have guests.”

“Didn’t you just see the news?” Kelly whispered harshly. “They just murdered like ten people.”

“Fourteen.” Lady Lacrima clarified. “We killed fourteen people.”

“See!?”

Jillian took a shaky breath. “Look…I’m not…I’m not sure what we should do in this scenario.”

“We should call the police!” Shouted Kelly.

Grimalkin snarled, getting on edge again.

Jillian hushed her. “Would you calm down a second?”

“No!”

“They’ve been through a lot of trauma, okay? I’m not going to pretend like those people didn’t deserve it—“

“Oh they definitely did!” Kelly agreed. “I’m just saying—“

“Look at them Kelly.” Jillian gestured. “They’re tired, dirty, and hurt. I’m sure there’s going to be a whirlwind of police and hospitals and…whatever. Let’s just…give them a few minutes out of the rain, okay? Where they can breathe and…I don’t know, relax?”

Marinette frowned to herself. Relax? What did that mean anymore?

“Marinette honey,” Jillian said walking closer. “Your hair is disgusting.” She chuckled.

That was something Lady Lacrima couldn’t argue with, and she twitched her lip in a smile.

“Can I wash your hair? Give you a trim? It might make you feel better.”

Feel better. That’s all they wanted. They wanted all this rage and pain and hurt to go away.

She nodded stiltedly.

Kelly seemed to come to grips with what they were doing and smiled a little more at Grimalkin. “And what about you Adrien? Would you like your hair washed? I know cats don’t really like water…” She chuckled.

The joke made Grimalkin’s eyes dilate and his ears perk up. He looked to his lady, asking her to answer.

She met his gaze, translating his look. “As long as he can keep an eye on me.”

“Of course! We’ll put you right next to each other, and you can hold hands!” Jillian grinned. “C’mon, right here. Just settle in and relax.” She gestured to two chairs with sinks connected to the head rests.

Kelly walked over to the door. “I’m going to lock the door so no one comes in. You can still leave anytime you want, though.” Then she closed the blinds on the windows so no one would look in.

Both of the akuma sat down carefully, watching the hairdressers as they got their supplies ready.

“Now,” began Jillian, playing with Lady Lacrima’s hair. “I can see already that your tattoo has some infection on it. It’s not really bad, the first letter just has some blistering on it. I can apply some rubbing alcohol to help…but you really need to get to a hospital when you can.” She ran her thumb over it lightly, making Lady Lacrima wince. “For other reasons too, of course.”

Grimalkin heard her wince and sat up to growl at Jillian, but Lady Lacrima just squeezed his hand in reassurance. Hesitantly, he leaned back again.

Kelly came around to make eye contact with him. “Chat, your left ear is really infected, and the right may be so too. I can also put some rubbing alcohol on it, but it won’t really help. Don’t take out the earrings either, or else the holes will close with the infection still inside. I’ll try to be careful, but I might bump them while I wash your hair.”

Grimalkin frowned slightly, but gave a little nod in understanding.

Then they both heard the sinks turn on, and braced for cold water to splash them.

But it didn’t. Jillian and Kelly just sprayed their scalps with a warm, gentle stream. Then they started to massage shampoo into their long overdue hair.

“This shampoo is specially designed for thick blonde hair,” Kelly commented, carefully scrubbing days of oil out of his locks and making the color shine again. “It’s Diamond Oil from Redken. Your color has faded with your natural oils and lack of vitamins. This should make your hair feel nice and silky.”

A loud purr cut through the air as Grimalkin closed his eyes and enjoyed the ministrations.

Lady Lacrima sighed softly in return. “This feels nice.”

“Good, you deserve it. I’m sorry I can’t offer more.”

“This is fine.” She insisted. “We have some business to take care of after this. Then we’ll be getting proper treatment.”

“Oh good!” Chirped Kelly. “I was worried! Because akumas aren’t really…they don’t really give up on their own…”

“The suits that Hawkmoth have provided us act like exoskeletons. Our wounds are packed.”

“Still…” said Jillian. “Don’t let this business take you too long. A lot of people are worried about you both.”

Lady Lacrima rolled her eyes despite the sad tone she spoke with. “You mean my parents? They’re just about the only people that ever believed me. Everyone else thinks this whole thing was a hoax. No one even tried to save us.”

Jillian rinsed the shampoo, and then knelt at Lady Lacrima’s side and took her hand. “Marinette, a handful of gullible people believed it was a hoax. Everyone else in Paris, in France, the whole world even…we believed it was really happening. And people tried to find you…I’m sorry that they couldn’t.”

“Like who?” she challenged back.

“Like the police. At least four investigators were killed while looking for you.”

Lady Lacrima didn’t have an answer for that, and so she didn’t say anything.

“Rena Rouge, Carapace, and Queen Bee were also spotted a handful of times,” Kelly added. “But for a while, the police were saying you were in Germany.”

Rena Rouge.

That name sparked anger in Lady Lacrima.

Alya.

Her best friend.

Ex-best friend.

Who had turned her back when Marinette needed it the most, trusted a liar and left her in the dust. It was a petty high school squabble, one that most people would have forgotten and let go of, considering the circumstances.

But Marinette had a lot of time alone with her thoughts. A lot of time to stew in her hurt from her betrayal.

The Cesaire apartment wasn’t that far away. Alya would be first. A warm up.

Jillian spoke again. “You’re tensing up. I’m supposed to be helping you relax. I’m sorry. I’ll shut up.”

Yes, revenge would come, but this was now. And she wanted to feel better.

Jillian rinsed the conditioner. “You know, I’ve got this facial cleanser from Lancôme, would you like to try it?”

“Alright,” Said Lady Lacrima.

Jillian squirted some mousse onto her fingertips and gently began to massage the cleanser onto her face. “Smells nice, right?”

“Feels nice.”

The bubbles turned pink with the blood they picked up. But the black streaks under her eyes remained. Jillian passed the cleanser to Kelly so she could put some on Grimalkin’s face.

“There,” said Jillian as she dried off her hands. “Just relax for a minute and let the cleanser have a chance to get into your pores. We’ll be right here.”

At first it was relaxing, the month of grease being lifted from her skin as the bubbles tingled. But then the silence became maddening, and she became paranoid. And by the way Grimalkin squeezed her hand, he was too.

“Jillian? What are you doing?”

“I’m getting you some wine. Just a little. I don’t have any food unless you want a sucker.” She chuckled.

“And Kelly?”

“I’m just sweeping!” She called from the other side of the room.

Jillian came back over, and a wet washcloth delicately cleaned off the suds. She then placed a dry towel on her hair. “Alright, let’s get you into a chair.”

Kelly mirrored the action with Grimalkin, careful of his ears, both fake and real.

They moved over to a pair of barber chairs, positioned just a little too far away to hold hands.

Grimalkin whimpered.

“I’m right here, love.” Lady Lacrima said softly. “It’s alright.”

Jillian handed them both a glass of red wine, before getting to work tying a smock on their shoulders. Then they were both turned to face the mirrors.

In this lighting, the damage was even worse. This was the first glance they got to their akumatized forms.

“Is that me?” Lady Lacrima asked, distressed by how deranged she looked.

“You look pretty badass.” Said Kelly. “Don’t stress out about it. You don’t plan to be akumatized forever, right?”

“I…I guess not…”

Still, it was a jarring sight. She barely recognized herself.

“Marinette, I used a lot of conditioner, but your hair is still pretty tangled. This might hurt.”

“Okay.”

She could hear Grimalkin whimper again as Kelly started to pick through his tangled mess. She cooed over him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It didn’t last too long though. Soon, the teeth of the comb were gliding through her locks and dragging across her itchy scalp. Lady Lacrima sunk into her chair and exhaled loudly.

“Will it bother you if I use an electric razor?”

“Since you warned me, it should be alright. What about you kitty? Can you handle that?”

Grimalkin let out a relaxed sigh.

“He’s alright with it.”

So Jillian and Kelly got to work, trimming and evening out the hack job Salo had done.

“There. That’ll do for now.” Jillian took off the smock and brushed the loose hair from her neck. “Come see me again sometime. We’ll make sure to take good care of you.”

Lady Lacrima finished off her glass. “Thank you, Jillian. Kelly. Once we give up our akumas, I doubt we will remember this. But we do appreciate your hospitality.”

Kelly towel dried Grimalkin’s hair, fluffing it up. “There, now you look a little less threatening.”

With a smile, Lady Lacrima pet his head, eliciting a purr from deep in his chest.

Jillian let out a trembling exhale. “Alright. We won’t keep you any longer. We won’t tell a soul you were here. Do what you need to do and then get to a hospital. I beg you.”

Lady Lacrima gave a half smile. “We’ll do our best.” Then she took Grimalkin’s hand and led him out of the salon.

Once they were gone, Kelly fell into a chair. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever done! Why did you let them stay?! Why didn’t you call the police!?”

Jillian also sat in a chair, swinging around to lean her arms on the back. “I was watching the stream on my break. I saw what they did. I saw…how they killed all those people. Part of me was worried that if we turned on them, they’d kill us too. But the other part of me was just worried about Marinette. I’ve been cutting her hair for…probably 15 years. I love her…and I just wanted to help.”

“Jill. You are too kind for your own good.”

“I try. Let’s clean up and head to the bar.”

“Sounds good to me!”

—

The rain continued, but it eased into a manageable drizzle. Now, people were starting to venture out onto the streets.

Lady Lacrima summoned a grappling hook with a steel cable, then tossed it up to the rooftops. “You ready, kitty cat?”

Grimalkin purred deviously, as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Together, they launched into the air and landed on a familiar terrain of sloping roofs and terra cotta chimneys. Old friends greeted them. Pigeons and the wind.

Grimalkin sneezed.

“Gesundheit.”

He stood a little taller and looked her in the eye, asking her a question.

“You remember Alya, right?”

His lip twitched in a preempted snarl.  

“After all this time, her actions still hurt me. Her home isn’t far from here…let’s take care of her first, before the others.”

Grimalkin’s eyes were wide and his ears back as he whimpered lowly.

“No darling, we’re not going to hurt her…just scare her. Shake her up a bit.”

He seemed much more receptive to that plan as he gestured her on, in a ‘ladies first’ sort of way.

The path to the Cesaire household was muscle memory. It was one of their landmarks for patrol in Montparnasse. The corner, top-floor apartment on a few story building.

They landed on the balcony outside Alya’s room. The windows were shut and locked. Peering inside, the room was dark and void of people.

“I don’t see her. She may not be home, or she might be in the living room.”

Grimalkin leapt to the next balcony over, pointing at the window cracked open.

“This is the twin’s room. We must be quiet.”

She opened the window slowly, and crawled inside. Both of the little girls were in their beds, sleeping peacefully. Grimalkin stepped in too, slinking in like a cat.

Unfortunately, the girl’s room was not as tidy as they had hoped, and Grimalkin’s first step on the floor landed on a doll.

Let it go! Let it go!

Grimalkin growled at the sound.

Ella stirred. “Mmm?”

The akumas froze, hoping the girl would go back to sleep.

But instead, she sat up and rubbed her eyes.

Lady Lacrima waited, crouching close to the ground to try to remain unseen.

But as Ella blinked to alertness, she noticed Grimalkin’s eyes, which glowed red in the dark.

She inhaled to scream, and Lady Lacrima leapt, pressing a hand on the girl’s mouth. “Sshhh…” she hushed, quietly.

A scream tore out from the other side of the room, where Etta had awakened.

“Shit,” Lady Lacrima swore under her breath.

There was no time to hide. Frantic steps ran to the room and the door swung open to reveal Nora.

“Who the hell—!?”

Grimalkin leapt at her, slammed her against the wall, and pressed his claws to her throat with a deep jungle cat growl.

But Nora was a fighter, and she didn’t take to being slammed around kindly. She slammed her fist into Grimalkin’s stomach, making him recoil.

In the chaos, Etta and Ella dove under a bed to hide.

“That’s enough, Nora.” Lady Lacrima demanded, summoning a machete. “We have no quarrel with you.”

“Like hell you don’t! You were trying to hurt my little sister!” She barked, ready to punch again.

Otis and Marlena came running after the shout, and stood in the doorway, horrified.

“You misunderstand. We’re looking for Alya.”

Nora’s face twisted slightly in confusion, then realization. “Beetle? Mr. Whiskers?”

Marlena stepped into the room. “Marinette? Is that you? How did you…? They said you were…you…” She sobbed and ran and hugged her. “We’ve all been so worried about you!”

The machete fell to the ground and disappeared.

Grimalkin growled, but didn’t attack.

Marlena pulled back. “Alya’s safe. Don’t worry.”

“Where? I need to talk to her!”

“You need to get to a hospital.”

“Tell me where Alya is!” Lady Lacrima screamed, startling the woman.

Nora rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder and pulled her back. “She’s an akuma mom, she’s dangerous.”

“Tell me where Alya is right now or I’ll force it out of you!” She trembled. Her wrath and her innate moral compass warred with each other, the urge to hurt becoming stronger and stronger.

“She’s at the Agreste Manor, with your parents,” Nora answered. “Mr. Agreste has the whole place on lockdown. There’s no way to get in unless he lets you in. And I doubt he will if you’re like this.”

Like this.

She said it like Lady Lacrima was a monster. Inhuman.

Maybe she was. Marinette had lost her humanity in the darkness. Only pieces of it remained.

Grimalkin paced the room, unsure what to do. No one was attacking, and his lady wasn’t giving any commands. It was easier not to think for himself. Just protect his lady, and do as she asks. That was all he had to do.

Lady Lacrima let out a strangled cry.

She just wanted to fix her hurt!

“Ladybug?” A little voice spoke.

Etta and Ella poked out from under the bed, looking at her with teary eyes.

“I…am not Ladybug. Not anymore.”

“Why not?” They asked.

She didn’t answer, just looked at them with some degree of disgust.

“They didn’t watch the stream.” Marlena explained. “We couldn’t bare to let them. Would you really like little kids watching that?”

Lady Lacrima hugged herself.

Grimalkin crouched, coming closer to the little girls.

“And you’re Chat Noir!” Etta chirped, touching his cat ears.

He shook his head, backing away.

Marlena took a different approach to diffuse the situation. “You two must be hungry, why don’t you come in and eat?”

Eat.

Lady Lacrima swallowed. She was hungry. So hungry!

Grimalkin’s stomach grumbled loudly.

Nora rolled her eyes and grabbed Lady Lacrima’s wrist. “Come on. That wasn’t a suggestion, it was a demand.”

Lady Lacrima pulled at the hand tugging her, instincts telling her that a firm grasp on the wrist meant pain, but her brain and her stomach felt otherwise. Everyone being so nice to them was throwing a wrench in their revenge plot.

Grimalkin was being led by the hand and tail by the twins.

In the light of the apartment, the Cesaire’s got a better look at them.

“Is that blood?” Ella asked, pointing to the red stains on Grimalkin’s suit.

He nodded.

“Cool.”

Marlena gestured to the couch. “Take a seat here. I’ll get something warmed up for you.”

So they sat, hunched, tense, and uncomfortable, no matter how soft and plush the cushions felt. Ella and Etta sat on the couch on either side of them, making the akuma scoot closer together.

Otis sat at the other end of the couch, and turned on the TV.

“…over a several hour period of absence, it was concluded that Marinette Dupain-Cheng actually escaped Salo and her men, though Adrien Agreste was left behind.” Nadja was on the screen, with a banner under her name that read, ’Breaking news: Ladybug and Chat Noir Escape Torture.’ “In the hours of her disappearance, Agreste was flogged near death. Then finally, after ten hours, Dupain-Cheng was brought back and was flogged as well.

“Then, in a stunning twist, Hawkmoth was the first to locate the heroes and come to their rescue, akumatizing them to aid in their own escape. They seem to go by the name ‘Lady Lacrima’ and ‘Grimalkin’. The cameras caught this chilling scene from the final broadcast on ‘make ladybug suffer dot com’. Please be advised, the footage is graphic, and not suitable for young audiences.”

The scene jumped to a recording of the torture chamber. Salo’s body laid on the floor in shadow, so the gore wasn’t completely seen. But Lady Lacrima and Grimalkin were still dripping red as they looked down at her. Butterfly masks appeared over their faces.

“No…Paris has gotten lazy with Ladybug and Chat Noir around. And in our absence, things have only gotten worse.” She paused. “And we’ll get it. But we have business to attend too. Thank you for the akuma, I’ll be taking it now. Goodbye.”

She turned to face the camera, with eyes that held no mercy. “I am Lady Lacrima. This is Grimalkin. We seek Justice, and Justice will be what we get.”

Grimalkin pounced at the camera, and the feed ended.

Nadja came back on the screen. “This scene took place one hour ago, and we are continuing our coverage as the story updates. It is not yet known if Ladybug and Chat Noir are still akumatized, or whether or not they are even in Paris. No sightings have yet to be reported.

“Fifteen minutes ago, Minster of Interior, Arthur Vanderguard, tweeted the following: ‘The reign of Salo is over. Thank you to the brave men and women who have put their lives on the line in the investigation of this case. We will not rest until Marinette and Adrien are home.’”

Lady Lacrima tilted her head in confusion. “Who is this Arthur Vanderguard?”

Otis answered, “The Minister of Interior is the government official in charge of homeland security. He’s like the boss of the chief of police and the Secret service. He’s been catching a lot of flack for your case.”

Lady Lacrima squinted her eyes, the name was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“Here we are!” Said Malena, placing a plate on the coffee table. “The soup is warming up, but I’ve got some fresh bread from your father, and these appetizers left over from a dinner at the hotel tonight. Honeycrisp apples with brie, wrapped in prosciutto, with a balsamic glaze.”

Lady Lacrima licked her lips. “…thank you.”

“Of course dear.”

“…has been criticized over the last month and a half since Ladybug and Chat Noir’s capture. Most notably for withdrawing troops from the investigation and allowing Edward Savauge to walk free.”

Lady Lacrima looked up at the screen and zeroed in on the story.

It was a previous recording, of Arthur Vandergaurd at a press conference. “Talking with M. Savauge, we have ruled out his involvement with Salo and the capture of Ladybug and Chat Noir. He has agreed to cooperate with us to find them, so that they can be rescued.”

“That press conference was held two weeks ago, and even now, Edward Savauge hasn’t even met with investigators. He most likely will not be holding up his end of the bargain.”

Lady Lacrima’s spoon clattered to the floor.

“During the course of the investigation, four investigators were killed under uncertain circumstances. The only connection between the murders was, of course, the link to the Ladybug and Chat Noir case. After the death of Detective Bertony, resources were pulled from the case, a move that contradicts normal procedure. In response, Mr. Vanderguard had this to say.”

The shot again changed to the Minister of Interior at the Press Conference. “My officers assume the risk of bodily harm and losing their life when they join the force. But they don’t expect to be in danger when they go home to be with their wives and children. Being assigned to the task force of looking for M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, is a death sentence. We unfortunately have not made any headway in the investigation, despite all that has been broadcasted. We believe that Detective Bertony had a lead, but all information with him in his hotel room was reduced to ash on the balcony. Because of the nature of these murders, I will be launching an inside investigation among the police in Paris, conducted by an outside attorney. Mayor Bourgeois has approved the city’s plan for a comprehensive, independent, transparent investigation of the task force members' misconduct. As much as we owe to Ladybug and Chat Noir, we can’t afford to lose anyone else to these terrorists. This investigation will most likely further disrupt our work on the Ladybug and Chat Noir case.

“While this investigation goes on, I ask that everyone stop watching the stream on ‘make ladybug suffer dot com’. Giving Salo and her men attention is only fueling their torment of the victims. Ladybug and Chat Noir will be safer if we stop watching.

“To the families of M. Agreste and Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, I am truly sorry.”    

Nadja came back to the screen. “Though the apologies of the Minister seem to be well intentioned, critics have been asking the same question that goes unanswered. Where is the French Gendarmerie? Isn’t it made for situations like this?”

Lady Lacrima stood. “Thank you for the food. We must be going now.”

“Are you sure?”

“We have wasted enough time. Tell no one we were here…for your own safety.”

And just like that, she threw open the window, and they leapt out into the night.

Malena sighed as she collected their dishes, noticing how little they had eaten. “That was sudden. I wonder if it had anything to do with the news?”

“I think it had everything to do with the news. If I was the Minister of Interior, I’d pray to God right now.”

—

This chapter was born of me, a cosmetologist’s daughter, thinking “if I was isolated for a month in complete darkness, in my own filth, for a month, what is the first thing I would do when I got out?” and my immediate answer was, “wash my hair, eat, and sleep for 24 hours, in that order.”

Hey! So are you super eager for the next chapter?? Well good news for you! ShadeOps21 wrote an alternate ending to the rescue! He posed to me, “what would happen if GIGN did what they do and rescued Adrien and Marinette?” I said “I dunno what that is.” So he wrote it!

Basically special forces come in and save the day and it’s awesome and intense and everyone should read it. It’s called ‘Even Heroes have Heroes’ 

Art by @soyyuzuslife on Instagram!