#gregory demayo

[dearqueerheart]

this life i chose isn’t easy, but sure is one heck of a ride.

title from the song “comet” from steven universe

ch. 1 - 1.1k words, rose/greg romance.

tw: grief, death, pregnancy, rose is rose

i might put this up on ao3! lmk if i should!

“Rose?” Greg called into the ether of the temple his girlfriend lived in. “We need to get moving, are you ready to go?” 

He heard a bang through the door that he knew led to the Gems’ bedrooms, and two voices shouting. The door whirred open, the sound not quite mechanical, not quite magical, and Rose stood in the doorway, a smile on her face but something tense in her eyes. Greg could see Pearl standing slightly behind her, her eyebrows creased and her mouth turned into a small but obvious frown. He dismissed it - Pearl was almost always morose whenever he and Rose went off together. 

“You ready to go, honey?” Greg reached a hand out to his very pregnant girlfriend and smiled, though not before swallowing tensely when his gaze drifted past her stomach. 

The tension in the gem’s eyes faded as she smiled even wider. “I think so? Am I missing anything?” She patted her hands on her dress, curls bouncing as she mentally searched for anything she might have forgotten. 

“Shoes?” Greg asked, glancing downwards. “You need shoes, babe. It’s usually pretty…” he searched for a word that wasn’t too harsh. “disrespectful to go places barefoot.” 

Rose flushed and tried to look down at her feet, only to be blocked by her bump. “Oh, right! I find it difficult to remember when I can’t even see it! I’ll go get a pair.” She jogged back into her room, the door whirring shut behind her. 

Pearl was still leaning against the door, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Universe.” She said, not looking up. Greg glanced at her. The gem winced when his eyes met her hair. She raised her gaze to look at him. “Just… make her happy.” A shaky breath came out of her thin form, and her eyes had the wet sheen of tears. “She’s so close. She should get to be happy when…” Pearl trailed off, eyes drifting back to the floor. “Well, you know when.”  

Greg nodded, a lump rising in his throat. He opened and shut his mouth before walking over to the gem and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Pearl’s muscles relaxed, if only for a moment, before she sighed, pulled away, and retreated to her room, her back to Greg as she raised her hand to brush a stray tear from her eyes.

***

Rose knew when she woke up that morning that she was close to her due date, her future child’s birthday, the day she will cease to exist. Some ancient death bell had begun to toll inside of her, presumably to give her time to alert her superior and to get her affairs in order. She hadn’t planned on telling the rest of the Crystal Gems, having made up her mind to live out her last days as normal, so that they didn’t have to grieve until she was dead. Her plans were foiled when Garnet burst into her room, behavior that Rose rarely saw from the levelheaded gem, tears slipping from her eyes and hand on her hair. She took a shaky breath and removed her shades. “Rose, you’re-“

Rose put a finger to the fusion’s lips, and smiled softly. “Don’t tell me when. I don’t want to know.” Garnet nodded, slowly regaining her composure. “Tell the others-“ Rose faltered, gazing past her doorway into the temple. “Tell them they’re going to meet Steven soon. They’ll know what comes with that.” 

Garnet wiped her tears and put her shades back on. “We’ll take care of him.”

“I know.”

***

The cassette clicked into its slot and Greg grinned. “This is Kerry Moonbeam,” He kept one hand on the wheel and glanced at Rose, his voice slightly raised so she could hear him over the music, wind, and AC. He’d rolled the windows all the way down, savoring the feeling of the cool summer breeze tousling his hair. “This guy is where I got my name from. This song, actually!” 

Rose smiled at him, hands resting on her stomach. “He inspired you to do music?”

“Not quite. I always wanted to do music. He inspired me to stick it to my parents and get on the road.” Greg upped the volume on the dial and started humming along with it, tapping his fingers against the wheel and resting his hand on the back of Rose’s seat.

“I can tell you’re excited to see him,” Rose took his hand, rubbing her thumb along the back of it. “I’m glad that you wanted me to be here with you when you did it.”

“Well of course I’d want you to be there! I want to experience this with you! I love you!” Greg said, putting on his right blinker and making a turn. “I want to do everything I can with you.”

Rose’s eyebrows furrowed, and her thumb slowed. “I know this is hard for you.” She said. Even though Greg’s eyes were on the road, he could feel the intensity of the stare that she was fixing him with. “But we’ve made our choices. I’ve made my choices. And now… I don’t think I would undo any of them. We’ve done all we can. Now, my task is to enjoy the time we have. And to fill my heart with happy memories until our son is here and he can make his own.” She squeezed his hand. “So let’s have fun. Let’s try to forget about this for now. I know it hurts you to think about.”

Greg nodded, a single tear sneaking out of his right eye. He heard a whisper of a laugh as Rose brushed it off, her touch feather-light. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, gaze still on the road. He kissed it and held it to his face for a while, trying to imprint the feeling of it into his memory. The tape had stopped playing. The only sounds in the van were the wind and their breathing, and the occasional click of the turn signal. 

Greg sat in the silence, turning it and his thoughts over in this mind. He pulled over and sighed, slumping in his seat and looking over at the woman in the front seat. “I can’t do this,” he said. Rose said nothing, sensing that he had more to add. He exhaled again, rubbing a hand over his face, wincing as it went over the sunburn on his nose and cheeks. “Do you… want to go get donuts instead?”

Rose smiled sadly, an odd sort of warmth in her eyes. “I’d love that.”

[crackship-connoisseur]

Prince Steven Demayo Age: 24 Pronouns: He/Him Height: 6’5 Affiliation: Prince of Delmarva Species: Human Personality: - Backstory: Son of King Gregory and Queen Rose, he is the heir to the Delmarvan throne, and was thus raised into a stuffy, royal existence. 

His mother died in childbirth, and many of her darkest secrets were kept hidden from him by the royal staff, in hopes that he wouldn’t perpetuate that legacy. He remains blissfully unaware. 

Though he had every luxury he could possibly have access to, he grew an intense fascination with piracy, and used it as an escapism from the strict royal expectations put on him.

[laponarta-blog]

Seeing steven go off on his dad was..... unexpected. I cant believe it

I would never imagine i'd get to see Steven bash his ad for something he feels affected him, to the point of comparing him to Rose and all the emotional conflict(and resent) that it carries.

I feel really sad thinking that Steven most probably lost a lot of respect for Greg for decisions that he made waaaaay before he was born.

Seeing Steven amazed by the idea that he had family and grandparents makes me believe that he got so caught on the fantasy of a life he feels he could've had that he doesn't listen to Greg complain about how miserable he felt living as Gregory deMayo.

And just watching the episode I wonder if things would've been how Steven wishes they had. I have 2 things to say about this

We saw in the episode that Greg's parents never opened the letters Greg sent them. This could very well mean that, after he ran away and despite his attempts at trying to stay in contact/connected to his parents, they cut him out completely, consciously. The way I see it is that: them choosing to not know about their son's life means by extension that they chose to not know about Steven's existence. So in a way, there's a difference here between what Steven thinks that his life could've been and how it most likely would've had Greg tried to introduce Steven to his parents. I don't think it would've been all love and granny care.

Most importantly, Steven is hurting for a life that he could've had but this is in comparison with the life that he had; you know, as the son of Greg Universe and Rose Quarts aka PD. I think it's safe to assume that Gregory deMayo would've never met Rose Quarts, less have a baby with her. It feels pointless to me that Steven would bash his dad for leaving his life behind because he would not be alive otherwise. It's like if i were to bash my dad for attending the same school as my mom because then they fell in love and had me in result, it doesn't fit the "my life could've been better" idea because i wouldn't even have one

[missgreeneyartz]

Gregory DeMayo age 17 in 1990

[jamieisamess]

Early 20s Greg is hot as fuck!!!!!! Idc!!!!!!! IDC!!!!!!!!!!

[doodlingfoolishness]

Greg and Steven, post-Bluebird, based on my story trimmings.

You hold onto something long enough, it starts meaning an awful lot.

[otar3000]

Gregory Demayo is also SU Greg Universe

[fanfoolishness]

waves (Steven Universe)

Greg knew it would be hard, raising a child alone.  He never knew it would be this hard. Angst and a little dash of hope, Rose’s death, 2600 words.  Thanks to @followerofmercy and the Connverse discord writing hour for helping me suss some things out on this one!

***

They say the day your child is born is the happiest day of your life.  One you’ll never forget.  They say a lot of things, Greg thinks later.  

He doesn’t remember much of Steven���s birth at all.  Just… flashes.

Late afternoon summer sun, drenching the van with gold.  Rose’s hands, soft and large and powerful, tightening around his.  Her smile is a little pained, a little frightened, so excited.  Tears in her dark eyes.  Is it now?  Before he can form the words to ask her, she kisses him, and it’s over.

He doesn’t know what he expected.  None of them knew how it would happen.  Rose is there one second, bright and alive and so, so beautiful.

And then she’s gone -- there’s only light, light, light, a pink flare shocking in its suddenness --

There on the blankets, small and round and squalling, is Steven.  Rose’s gem glows from the curve of his belly, then fades.  Steven’s blotchy face screws up into a wail that pierces the silence. Greg stares.  The baby is so, so beautiful.

For a moment, Greg doesn’t know what to do.  Rose.  Her absence is a void that crushes, his chest is caving in without her, how does he breathe, how does he do anything --

Steven’s hands are angry fists.  His legs wheel. His tiny feet kick jerkily.  And he cries.

Shaking, Greg wraps him in the blanket.  The baby stares out at him with dark eyes, his face relaxing beneath the black curls plastered to his forehead.  Greg clumsily picks him up and holds him to his chest.  The baby quiets and settles against him, and Greg kisses the top of his head with a sob.  

Flashes.   

He fumbles for the pink onesie Rose liked most. It’s a little too big for Steven.  He cries as Greg cleans him up, cries as Greg gently directs his arms through the sleeves. 

Greg tries to remember the directions for formula.  He messes up the first three bottles, too hot, the formula mixed unevenly.  The fourth he holds for Steven, and the baby feeds hungrily, gazing up at him with those dark trusting eyes.  

She’s gone.  Rose is gone.  He’s so cold in the summer heat.  Is that why he can’t stop shaking?

The sunset’s brilliant rays play on the wall of his van.  He remembers how much Rose loves, loved, the Mr. Universe logo.  Remembers the way her large hand splayed against the paint when he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her.  How she grinned.

It isn’t true.  She’s away right now, busy on a gem mission, that’s how she got this baby, right?  He’s mistaken somehow, confused, and any minute now she’ll knock on the van door and there’ll she be --

Voices, visiting.  Not hers.  Familiar.  No, no, how can he explain, there wasn’t time, they didn’t know -- 

“Rose?  Greg?” The van door opens and the light spills in.

He can’t speak.  Mouth isn’t working right.  

Mechanically he turns to the bassinet and lifts up the sleeping baby.  They stare, and Greg sees their world change in an instant.

Pearl, wide-eyed, mouth dropping.  She screams.  Keeps screaming.  It’s a sound that tears through him, keening and terrible; she cries on her knees on the pavement with her face in her hands, and Greg knows she will never forgive him, not for this, not for all of it.  

Amethyst, nudging the baby, whispering at first, voice rising louder and louder into a ragged yell, Rose, Rose, Rose Rose Rose ROSE!

Garnet leaning against the van to stay upright, tears leaking from all three eyes, hoarsely muttering that she should have known, they should have come earlier --

Steven crying in the commotion, Greg laying him back in the bassinet; what if he drops him, his hands won’t stop trembling, how is he supposed to do this….

Just flashes.

***

The days blur.  It’s hard to keep track of them.  It’s with a shock he realizes that Steven is a month old.

There’s plenty to keep him busy, he supposes.  Beach City might be small, but there’s a surprising amount of tourists passing through in the summer months, their cars dirty with sand and exhaust.  Greg gets a decent amount of work.  More tips than he used to.  He suspects the tips aren’t for the sad sack with the swollen eyes and the receding hairline, but probably have something to do with the sleeping baby strapped to his chest.

In the downtime he sits with Steven, pulling him out of the baby carrier and cradling him in the crook of one arm and just… marveling.  Every day he finds a new wonder.  Today it’s the shadow of his long black eyelashes against the curve of his plump little cheek. Yesterday it was his small hand, fierce and mighty curled around Greg’s index finger.  He can hardly bear to think of what it will be tomorrow.

Sometimes the downtime is different.  He’ll hear a song out of a car radio, one of those silly human things that made her laugh, and he’ll hear her voice singing along -- but sometimes he doesn’t hear it, sometimes he’s afraid he’s forgetting it, and he sinks down to the ground behind the car wash and bawls.  Steven cries with him.  And he realizes in those moments that Steven will never know why he’s crying, he’ll never fully understand who Rose was, and he cries harder.

But those moments slowly, slowly become fewer.  One morning he doesn’t think of her immediately upon waking; it’s ten minutes after he checks on Steven that he remembers, feeling a familiar pit deep in his stomach.  Another day, busy at the car wash, he doesn’t cry at all.  It’s freeing and frightening both.

He keeps going.  It’s not as if he has a choice.

He closes up the car wash after the day’s rush, takes Steven for a walk in his stroller.  He swings by Vidalia’s to bug her for baby advice for their weekly meeting.  He can tell she doesn’t know what to say about Rose, so Greg doesn’t mention her, and Vidalia doesn’t ask.  Instead they talk about Sour Cream, and Steven, and how to get babies to sleep through the night.  Vidalia mentions colic and diaper rash.  Greg shrugs.  Steven always seems fine, his skin pink and healthy, his stomach settled.  He wonders what role Rose’s gem plays, pink and gleaming in the baby’s belly.

He makes up a little routine for the two of them.  On the evening walk he stops by the market for more formula, picks up dinner at Fish Stew Pizza.  He was never into cooking much before, and he sure as hell doesn’t have the energy for it now.  It keeps him going, anyway.

On the boardwalk people smile, and peer into the stroller, and coo at the baby.  Steven stares up at them with wide eyes, looking from face to face in the deepest concentration Greg’s ever seen.  “You like people, huh?” he murmurs, and Steven gives him that look, and he melts.

He feels all right like this.  Like a real person.

But every night he eventually pulls away from the real people and stands on the boardwalk, looking over the top of the stroller to the temple beyond.  He tells himself the wheels would just get stuck in the sand, and he turns aside.  He can’t face them again. Not yet.

Some evenings he climbs to the top of the hill, lays on his back in the grass, Steven nestled against his chest.  He watches the sun set in the distance.  Somewhere out there the old farm sees the sunset, too, and Greg wonders about the DeMayos, where they are, what they’re doing.  He wonders if his old man ever held him like this on a summer night in the twilight, ever marveled at his small hand. 

He climbs down the hill in the deepening dusk, Steven safe in his arms, and he prepares for another night.

***

Nights… aren’t good.  This one’s no different.

He’s set up a little cot in the back of the carwash beside a little crib.  He doesn’t mind the van for himself, but a baby needs a real crib, not a crate in a passenger seat.  

He tries to sleep with one hand dangling over the edge of the crib, fingertips brushing against Steven’s chest as it rises and falls.  Tries to sleep on the saggy cot, each position more uncomfortable than the last.  Tries to sleep in the summer heat, lingering heavy on the air.

Tries to sleep when he knows she’s gone.

And there it is, the sledgehammer: the agony that leaks around the daylight’s edges, the shock that tears the air from his lungs every time it hits again.  

He gasps with it, the weight of missing her.  How, he howls silently into the night, how can Rose be gone?  It’s a reality that makes no sense, a hollow wound bigger and darker and more confusing than anything he’s ever felt in his life, and he thought he was ready, she told him it would be worth it, she told him so many things --

It’s a full five minutes before he realizes Steven’s stirring, making soft cooing sounds in the crib.  The sear of missing Rose fades blissfully away.  It’s a wave, he thinks blearily, it crashes over him and drowns him every time, and every time, somehow, he comes up breathing once again.

The baby cries.  Greg turns to him, eyes blurry with tears as he drinks in his angry pink face and those fierce little fists.  He picks him up and rocks him on the flimsy cot.  “It’s okay, little man, it’s okay.  I got you.” 

Once, Rose had him.

He tries to ride out the next wave, focusing on Steven cuddled in his arms.  He presses a trembling kiss to the top of his son’s head.  The wave crashes again; he drowns again.  This time he cries so hard he hiccups, cries so hard Steven echoes him with a ringing shriek.  

“Rose,” he sobs.  It strikes him again that it isn’t fair -- she should have been here, she should have felt the weight of their baby in her soft arms -- she should have been able to see those long eyelashes, those dark curious eyes -- and why couldn’t she, why couldn’t she, dammit --

But Steven needs him.  So he does the things he needs to, tears still streaming down his face.  He changes the baby.  Dresses him in a new pink onesie, the shade as soft as Rose’s hair.  Tries to rock his son back to sleep, hoping Steven can’t sense the emptiness spiraling deeper and deeper through him, cutting to the core.  The baby whines in soft tired noises.

What did we do? he asks the darkness.

He clicks on the light, sleep vanished again. He paces with Steven in his arms, walks in circles around the tiny room with the peeling linoleum and faded car posters, and he sings nonsense lullabies in minor keys.

***

The days begin to shorten, summer’s hold on the town starting to slip into autumn.  Steven’s getting bigger, outgrowing the newborn clothes.  Vidalia gives him a few of Sour Cream’s hand-me-downs.  Greg tries them out, but Steven looks strange in them, little button-up outfits in blue and white.  Greg picks up a few more pink onesies in the next size up.

The days get a little better.  The waves still come.  Sometimes he can even see them coming from a distance, can hunker down and prepare for them.  Sometimes, though, they’re still a surprise.  Like the dreams.

“Greg,” she laughs, pink hair dancing in the breeze.  She’s adorned in pink flowers, a glorious goddess.  He reaches out to hold her hand, and he remembers.

“Rose, you -- you’re not supposed to be here,” he says in a small voice.  He feels guilty for pointing it out.

Her laughter fades.  The flowers wilt, petals dropping to the grass beneath her bare feet.  “I know,” she says softly.  Then a mischievous grin.  “Don’t tell anyone.  Promise?”  

Despite himself, he grins back.

He jerks awake from the dream, blinking back tears.  The morning is still in the blue-black pre-dawn, and he knows Steven will be waking up soon.  Might as well get up now anyway.

He mixes Steven’s bottle, tests the temperature.  Still a little warm.  He looks back to the sleeping baby, then picks him up.  Steven breathes quietly against him.

It only takes a few moments to get together Steven’s diaper bag and bottle, and settle him into the car seat in the van.  He doesn’t know where he’s going, not exactly, but he feels restless.  

He drives through the town’s empty streets in circles until he remembers the dream, Rose in flowers.  He heads for the hill as the sun begins to crest the horizon, far over the edge of the sea.

Steven drowses in Greg’s arms, waking up as they reach the top of the hill.  The sun spills over the waves below.  Greg throws down a blanket for both of them, and settles down on the grass.

“Hey there, Schtu-ball,” he says as Steven fusses.  He reaches for the bottle, tests it again.  Perfect temperature.  He holds it to Steven’s mouth, and the baby drinks hungrily, watching him all the while.

“Did I ever tell you about this place?” he murmurs.  With his thumb, he brushes a stray lock of hair from Steven’s forehead.  He’s so small.  Yet he’s already grown so much.

“Of course not,” Greg answers.  He looks out over the water.  “You know, your mom and I used to come out here all the time.  We’d sit in the flowers while I wrote her songs.  She said that in all her years in Beach City, the ocean never changed, but everything around it did.  She thought that was beautiful.”  Steven flailed his fists in agreement.

“Yes, she’d think you were beautiful, too,” says Greg.  His voice cracks.  “You’re perfect, Steven.  You’re everything we hoped for.  And I’m sorry -- I’m sorry you’ll never get to meet her.”

The tears burn, a familiar sting as the morning light grows.  “I loved her so much.  I always will.  You don’t just stop when someone dies.  You keep loving them, and that’s why it’s so hard.”  Little feet kick against his chest; he breathes faster, swallowing.

“Rose was incredible. I loved her laugh.  Her smile.  The way she sang.  Just… everything about her.  I wish you could really understand what kind of person she was.”  He sighs.  “She saved the Earth, you know.  Not only that, she loved the Earth.  And she loved me.”  His breath shudders.  Steven looks at him in concern, and he straightens up.  “She wanted you more than anything.  I hope you always know that, kiddo.”

Steven finishes the bottle and Greg sets it aside, holding him upright in his lap.  He rubs his back, the action now practiced, natural.

“I miss you, Rose,” he whispers.  

The sunlight sparkles on the water, white and gold dancing on the sea’s surface.  The light edges the grass of the hilltop, outlines Steven’s dark fluffy hair.  Greg lifts him from his lap.  He turns the baby around to keep the sun from getting in his eyes, giving him a watery smile.

Steven searches his face, his tiny hands still, his eyes intent.  Then his mouth lifts in a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and he laughs.

“Steven--” Greg gasps.  “You -- you smiled!”

Steven flaps his hands in delight, letting out a giggle.  And Greg laughs through the tears, laughs on the green grass, laughs amid the pink flowers unfurling in the morning light.  He holds his son, remembering Rose’s voice, treasuring it.

Steven’s laughter is the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

[vaultnewt]

I was rewatching Steven Universe clips and there was a little thing I happened to notice.

In both of these instances, Pearl was getting bear-hugged out of excitement and gratitude.

1) Pearl is the one who urged Rose to go to Earth and, due to that, Rose got to see for herself how beautiful it was. She hugged Pearl because she was so excited that she couldn’t express it through words.

2) Pearl fixed Greg’s van after it’d been totaled in the incident with Lapis. After looking over his beloved, fixed-up van, Greg was overjoyed and unable to express how grateful he was through words. So he pulled Pearl into a bear-hug.

I know that Pearl wasn’t on the best terms with Greg at the point in the series when he hugged her- hence her bewildered expression. However, I can’t help but wonder if part of that shock could’ve come from the fact that the way he hugged her was eerily similar to the way Rose used to hug her. Or maybe, I’m just reading too deeply into the subtext of a fleeting moment in a TV show. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Long story short, the fact that Rose and Greg express extreme happiness and gratitude towards people with bear hugs is honestly pretty wholesome to me. :)

[cloudy-in-dreams]

Greg Icons

° Like/Reblog if you save

[grilled777cheese]

Rebecca Sugar : Mr. Universe

Me: Oh golly gee, hopefully my boy steven can rekindle with his pops about his internal conflicts through father son bonding

Greg: Breaks into a fucking house

Me:T-thats fine. Oh, it's his old house.Ok I gotchu.

Steven:Starts realizing he could of had a better life and Greg was projecting his prolonged family issues onto him

Me: umm... Greg, please explain why to steven in better depth

Greg : Greg plays their universe David Bowie and tells that their last names come from the song and Steven :gets pissed out of a missed understanding and crashes the fucking van.

Steven: Cuts mental ties with his father bc of realizing how he's just like his mother

Me, mentally sobbing: B-but, father son bonding !

[poison332]

On “Mr. Universe...”

So much is going through my head, I don’t know what to say.

Um... the song’s good?

This was heavy.

[nappinkraken]

Greg Universe's guitar!! We were actually originally commissioned to design this piece, and we're super happy with it. It's got so many neat little details (and lots of little pieces to glue together) - from the frets having a bit of 3Dness to them, to the hand-painted stars and moon. It hangs differently from our usual Steven Universe necklaces too, just had to hang it like a real guitar!

(And for anyone curious about Spinel... she's already in the works and the gems are on their way to us ;3)

Shop link on our Tumblr page!

[gaia-lapis-77]

Cringey

[yoshimickster]

And now-THE CRYSTAL GEMS DISCUSS-the talk(and shut up Greg counts as a CG)!

Pearl:...WOW-I had no idea human reproduction...was so much like how injectors make Gems.

Greg: HAHA-yup, I figured it was an easy concept for you to get, but I wanted us to be on the same page.

Pearl: Smart move, I maybe LITERALLY a genius but I'm...STILL a bit insular in terms of human culture.

Amethyst: I'LL say, y'alls JUST started dating again. QUESTION-should this be a GROUP talk with Steven, because I know a LOT about it myself.

Pearl: Quit bragging and of course you can help.

Garnet: Even to this day I'm still amazed by the concept of two people's love making a COMPLETELY seperate being, instead of merging them into one.

Amethyst: Oh there's merging...lllllots of merging.

Pearl: I SAID stop bragging!!

Steven: What're you guys talking about?

Everyone: OLD PEOPLE STUFF!

[doodlingfoolishness]

Life and death and love and birth