#like I just do not feel connected to her artistry anymore like I used to and that’s a shame

[colorsinautumn]

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[cosmerelists]

What Radiant Order Non-Stormlight Characters Would Belong To

As requested by anon. :)

If non-Stormlight Archive characters had the opportunity to bond spren, what orders would each of them belong to?

(I’m a Edgedancer, by the way, per the quiz!)

1. Vin: Windrunner

As pointed out by @itmakesssenseincontext (here), Vin literally thinks The Words that make someone a Windrunner, as she vows to only use her power to protect those unable to defend themselves. So. Like. If there had been an Honorspren around, she’d be a Windrunner already.

2. Steris: Elsecaller

The Elsecaller order is about self-improvement, and it attracts people who are quote "less flamboyant" and more serious, like scholars. Their spren are logicspren. I think this order would suit Steris very well!

3. Wayne: Edgedancer

This is per WOB! I mean, I do see it. Wayne’s power is essentially Super Empathy, as he can make himself understand other people’s perspective in order to pretend that he is one of them. Plus, he literally cannot forget the man he killed, creating elaborate and unhealthy rituals to remember him forever. I guess he does have healing powers too; I dunno if that’s part of the reasoning. Per Brandon, the other Edgedancers would find Wayne “strange,” but come on. Wayne & Lift would get on like a house on fire and would possibly literally cause that.

4. Sazed: Bondsmith

This is one of those that just felt right to me immediately, and then I just had to sit and try to figure out why. I think partly it's because Sazed literally bonded two very disparate Shards together into one, which feels very Bondsmith of him. But Sazed also cared a lot about connecting people and helping people understand other cultures, so there's that as well. I suppose the other one I could see for Sazed would be Edgedancer, given that he makes it his mission to save all otherwise forgotten religions. But I'm going Bondsmith as my number one choice.

5. Shai: Lightweaver

WOB has Shai as an Edgedancer, which I found shocking. I mean...the artistry? The literally becoming other people in order to be ready for various situations? The one last-ditch personality whose entire purpose is to craft an intricate lie to hide Shai from herself??? To me, Shai is a Lightweaver through and through. But per Brandon, Shai is an Edgedancer. So I guess it depends on who knows this character better. A random person who blogs or the literal author.

6. Wax: Skybreaker

As a lawman, basically. Plus, there's the whole conversation between Miles and Wax where Miles tries to convince Wax that if the law is unjust, you have a duty to oppose the law and Wax is like, "Nuh-uh shut up." (Since that so mirrors Kal and Moash, I can understand teh Wax as Windrunner argument, but we can't have ALL the protagonists be Windrunners!)

7. Marasi: Truthwatcher

This is almost certainly just me--I so strongly headcanon Marasi as an investigative reporter that I can't even remember the truth anymore. Ironic, I guess, given the subject of this entry... If I wanted to try to justify this, I guess I'd say Marasi does have a canonical interest in discovering the truth...but yeah, I don't expect many to agree with this one!

8. Rashek: Skybreaker

Had to include this one, as it's a WOB. Not a very good one, per Sanderson, but a Skybreaker nonetheless. Let's all imagine Nale having to deal with Rashek, shall we?

9. Vivenna: Stoneward

Vivinna does feel very Windrunner to me, given her bro chemistry with Kaladin. But the Stonewards are about being where they're needed, about being dependable and good team players, about making the best of a bad situation. I think of Vivenna showing up on a whole new planet, seeing a city without leadership, and being like, "Sure, I'll take over the city guard and forge a team of incredibly loyal guards until it's time for me to move on and go to the next place I'm needed."

10. Ranette: Dustbringer

Mostly because of the tinkerer angle--dustbringers are interested in knowing how things work, plus their power is inherently destructive and so requires careful control. And Ranette, you know, makes guns 'n' stuff.

11. Bleeder: Willshaper

The Willshapers are about freedom--for themselves, and for others. They want to free those who have been unjustly imprisoned. And oh man. What Bleeder wanted was to free herself and others from Harmony's influence, from the way he could literally take her and others over. So she wanted freedom for everyone and would do anything to obtain it.

12. Kelsier: Edgedancer, Dustbringer, or Willshaper

Sorry to end on a WOB, but I'm fascinated that Sanderson can see so many possibilities for Kelsier. An Edgedancer in his desire to change the world back into a green paradise for Mare. A Dustbringer or Willshaper for self-mastery and determination. Honestly, I'm most fascinated by Willshaper, due to the comment that they believe any law is a form of oppression. That extreme form of freedom really feels like it suits Kelsier, to me.

[winter-tospring]

wish i did not care at all to even listen to her albums at this point. maybe i'm too gay for this?? feels like her growth has stopped, she shifted at folklore, maybe that was the last one, and then goodbye, creative musings. we're stuck in a loop of diary entries that could be on a blog. i feel so disappointed and upset; it's been brewing a lot, what with the previous midnights mid failure, but dear reader still gave me a speck of hope. if not through her personal posts, at least i thought i'd still have her artistry connecting to my feelings, but it's so disconnected, like paths have diverted, and i wish i didn't want anything from her. it's just sad to part so bitter after years of holding her in my pocket through all the steps in my life, defending her and believing the stories she told. many are saying it's her trying to make us see her as human. maybe. she seems so lost in herself it's like she needs the reminder that she's more than a product she's been working two decades to sell. maybe she should escape. do an eat pray love and come back grounded, speaking up when she's screaming inside instead of bottling it up for a not half decent spoken album where she says she's not feeling well and that's all. say the things that are bothering you instead of complaining that life's hard for a billionaire when you haven't even shown you care about the horizon beyond yourself. say it!! fucking free yourself of your dad and your team and the cages you let stifle you! you have power and you act like you don't, like it wouldn't matter, like money's not what you want when you're selling 4 different vinyls then release a second full album after most of your fans already bought into your stuff. if you think about other things than yourself, it's not showing. if you want compassion, show it in return.

i'm tired of the product too. you think your silence makes you transcend time, legendarizes you into a figure that'll last. and maybe you'll be looked back on later, but whose hearts do you want to receive kindness from? it's not too late to come down, come out, be a companion, not a persona, if that's even what she wants anymore. she wants to stay a god but begs for pity. you take yourself there every time you so elaborately choose to conform to the cage you say you want to break out of. just pick something different. i though she'd had a glimpse of freedom but every aesthetic is a costume that doesn't really fit, every theme is a phase without commitment, everywhere we can't tell when it's real or green screen. she got lost in between, even in private, it's like even she doesn't know what to believe

[notoriousbeb]

Highlights from this tarot reading on Taylor from today:

She's willing to do whatever it takes to either burn or build bridges.

She's an advocate who is defensive or protective of the people in her corner or who she has compassion for.

She has a very nurturing vibe to her.

At times, she has used her power to control or influence people.

She knows her power and her worth.

Sometimes she acts as if she's too invincible for her own good.

Some healing needs to take place in regards to her relationships.

Despite her success and wealth, she has been feeling a sense of lacking. So, she is healing to feel more abundant and moving into balance with her emotional health.

Idle words and whispers don't bother her anymore.

She's letting bygones be bygones, and releasing certain ties or insecurities.

She's feeling more at home with herself and her process and her own wildness. She's never going to conform to the ideas or ideals of society.

She's going to take souvenirs of her experiences and put them up in her house.

She's always felt like a widow, grieving or mourning the people she was in a relationship with (“The old widow goes to the stone everyday. But I don't. I just sit here and wait, grieving for the living.")

In the past, she felt like she lost something from those relationships, but now she's coming into alignment, and coming to grips with her past, present and future lovers.

She's not trying to throw them out or ignore them, she's honoring her energy.

Currently, she's reflecting, looking back fondly on her experiences, trajectory and where she's going.

She's reflecting on what she hasn't talked about. There are things that she just can't talk about, because she doesn't trust certain people with the information.

She wants to project to the world that's she doing the inner work necessary to move forward and walking away from situations that don't benefit her.

But inside she feels very indecisive at times. She's trying to figure out who she is and decide what she wants to do next.

She has a lot of options. But she wants to make and charter her own path. She is also very strong-willed and stubborn, which can make her resistant to opportunities that come her way.

It's also hard for her to let her guard down. She can bite back a little too quickly, at time.

Her current trajectory is all about using her skills and wisdom and artistry to make bank and fight for what she feels is rightfully hers. She'll also move toward giving even more charitable giving efforts and greater amounts—not just money, but also time and energy.

There's something that she's doing in secret that feels really exciting and also serene to her, which she's contemplating bringing to her fans.

Relatedly, there's something she's going to have to let go of and say goodbye to that she really loves and adores. Reader thinks this is something to do with Taylor's fans; like an action she typically engages in that she's going to have to put aside to focus on this new craft that's really exciting to her.

She has to make a decision to do something that's really nurturing, and will help her with that feeling of a lack of abundance. But right now she's in her head about how to execute it.

Reader thinks Taylor may either adopt a new pet or a child; picking up on a strong nurturing vibe. Reader feels like it's related to a connection to a person. Is hearing October for an announcement, but maybe October 2026. Perhaps Taylor is working on a cause related to children or people who have been hurt by society; something maybe related to the foster care system. The number 7 is also significant.

[tim-hoe-wan]

The haylor theories about their relationship is insane but also up at swiftie alley. I am admittedly a fan and I used to love being on swiftie tumblr to see all the ways her fans can relate and interpret her songs. But for a while now it seems swifties are less on creativity and treating her body of work as an autobiography. Even with folklore despite the premise, some fans insist it’s all secretly about her. I just find it toxic because I love artistry and I love how creative songwriters and writers can be. They can make a whole story out of a single encounter or they can hear someone else’s story and make a story/song out of it. Now it’s all just used to connect bits of pieces of ones life. When Fine Line came out I used to check out a few blogs to see their take and they were doing the same, so I dipped from his fans immediately after, but it doesn’t surprise me why their fans overlap and why they take such pure conjectures and take it as fact.

I still enjoy Taylor’s music, but I don’t think I can stand the level of parasocial and coddling of her fanbase anymore.

I’m not part of either fandom to say how similar/different they are. I do think Harry’s pr uses the same vanilla/safe zone pr Taylor does.

I have known plenty of irl swifties in my life and during her debut to 1989 I was at the age where teens were really impressionable and dare I say, easy to indoctrinate. It doesn’t help that Taylor herself does tend to act like these are diary entries though I remember she herself saying oh I imagined this or the ex (or Maggie G) saying no it didn’t happen or I don’t know about that. I mean, other than the fact celebs lie, there’s also this thing called creative license. It’s not exclusive to songwriters, writers do take inspiration from their life but as many would clarify it’s just an inspiration, not the autobiography. And even with inspiration, it comes with imagination, exaggeration etc. all other creative license that mixes facts with fiction.

I’m with you, I’m not really a fan of interpreting songs to analyze people’s life. It’s different when they share it and hold which part of their life they took inspiration from. It doesn’t mean for example, Trent Reznor is literally wearing a crown of shit. I also feel it really helps being families from both sides be so heavily in the industry and see real time curating images for certain celebs or being in the creative session and listen to people voice their thoughts and how they for the idea for a story etc.

I don’t think anyone will change my mind that TaySwizzle really f**ked up the level of parasocial relationship and living vicariously between a celeb and their fandom. She wasn’t the first, but she sure was one of the most influential promoters of that kind of fandom activity.

[septembersghost]

What do you think the line in maroon means that says…. The part about the carnations you thought were roses, that’s us..

And also.. I see you every day now. And I still feel you?

And in the bridge is that current feeling?

Would love your breakdown. Because the carnation part seems like a cut on their relationship

a little bit of an aside, but in the one video i watched about the album, the professor who was discussing it mentioned loving this line and how vivid it is, but also how funny it is to him because, as a man, he too would not notice the difference between carnations and roses lol

to me, what she's saying is almost twisting, "it was rare, you were there," because roses' status is of being rare and expensive and of particular beauty, whereas carnations are seen as common and cheaper and don't have a powerful fragrance. like, we thought this was something special and cultivated and beautiful, but actually you ended up treating it like something you'd find at a convenience store and you didn't treasure it.

i definitely think the carnation part is like a cut, when she started to realize she wasn't being seen/heard/regarded with actual worth, and that it had become...this hookup back and forth situation instead of something that was actually loving. (which fits into better man and babe.)

i think the "i see you every day now," and "i still feel you" are just about that lingering feeling of missing someone and their presence bleeding into your life even when they're gone. (the same feeling that's present in i almost do and sad beautiful tragic, and clean's "you're still all over me like a wine-stained dress i can't wear anymore." she addresses that a lot in her music, the way people leave ghosts behind, even in different stories, from you all over me to cardigan). since i just mentioned niall, it reminds me of a lyric in his song everywhere: "feels like every time i turn a corner, you're standing right there, over my shoulder, you're everywhere." someone might not be a part of your life anymore, and yet they're all around and you can't shed the memory.

the bridge to me has layered meaning - she was very affected by that relationship, to the point where it hovered over her and colored her emotions and reactions for a long time, and i also think it's a bit of a "screw you, tbh" (not dissimilar to i bet you think about me, but with less humor) because that person was so obsessed with their own image and ego and status, leaving a mark on the world as it were, and she's like, well, congratulations, because the deepest mark you left was on me, and here i am stuck with having to process it. and finally i think it's a sly reference to red itself, and its artistic legacy. look at the place it has in her career, look at the transformation of ATW. it's her legacy now. maybe he's immortalized in art, but it wasn't the way he imagined, because it's hers. her artistry crystallized that and it has far more meaning now.

everything was this palette of vibrant and dark, bright and brooding, burning and bruised red. she thought that was love, but then she learned what love truly is.

i haven't seen anyone talking about this, so may i add one of my favorite references that i discovered/connected in my head? the roses in maroon turned out to not be roses at all. and it's, "when the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst."

but she has mentioned finding a rose. in the lakes. "a red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground, with no one around to tweet it." she found that rare, precious thing, and she nurtured it, and it grew despite the fear she felt, despite what was happening in the outside world, away from scrutiny and pressure. it's not a bouquet, which means it wasn't cut to be put in a vase to wither and die. it's a single rose unfurling and alive, a splash of color in the midst of a difficult winter, surviving and blossoming. she found the real thing.

[ilovefandoms102]

The Worst Vacation

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend surprises you on your vacation with your work friends...

Note: Inspired by my trip to AZ which was terrible so this is kind of based off real events that happened to me but dramatized for the story, and of course inserting my baby daddy Drew😛.

Click here to be apart of my taglist

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Life works in funny ways…

I never expected to find the love of my life a little over a year ago. Drew came unexpectedly into my life and we instantly had a connection. I know, I know...sounds extremely cliche, but it’s the truth.

Although our relationship was mostly long distance, we made it work. Sure it was really hard sometimes not having him around, but once I graduated from college we planned on moving in together. It might seem a bit fast since we have only been together a year, but I’m ready and I know Drew’s the one I want to spend forever with.

=====================================

I go on vacation with a girl I work with every year, Sally, since I started working with her two years ago. This year, we chose to go to Arizona. I was super excited because we had also planned on going to Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

Drew was extremely supportive and was happy that I was getting the opportunity to travel. I was hesitant with wanting to go at first because I had wanted to save up enough money to visit Drew while he was filming.

However, we both agreed his schedule was too hectic at the time and that we wouldn’t be able to properly spend time with each other. We were both disappointed, but still I was excited to go with my friend.

Or so I thought…

The trip was slowly turning into a disaster, everything that could have gone wrong did. My friend had brought along her niece, Caroline, which I didn’t mind despite not knowing her very well. It felt like the trip was mainly focused on them and I was just there to be the chauffeur.

I called Drew the first three nights of my stay crying because they were so awful to me. Drew being the sweet man he is offered to pay for a flight home, but I declined. I already had spent too much money to not finish out the trip.

“But sweetheart, if you’re not having a good time there’s no point in being there.” Drew pressed, his handsome face lighting up my phone screen.

“I know honey, but I’ve already spent a thousand dollars for this trip. I can’t just come home and leave them here.” I sighed, snuggling further into what would be my bed for another 10 dreadful days.

“I’ll give you the money back angel, I just don’t want you to be miserable when this is supposed to be a relaxing trip.” Drew insisted.

“I’m not taking your money Drew you spoil me enough.” I smiled, wishing more than anything he was lying here with me so I could kiss his cute face.

“I always want to spoil you baby, you mean the world to me.” he professed, grinning widely afterwards.

“I miss you so much,” I whispered, my heart aching to feel his strong arms around me.

“I miss you more,” he whispered back, pouting his lips slightly.

We talked until one of us fell asleep only to call back the next morning. My friends even had the nerve to comment on how much I talked to him.

“It’s a little obsessive...I mean you guys have been together for what a year?” Sally condescended, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Yeah? So what?” I questioned, the annoyance clear in my tone.

“I’m just saying it’s weird.” she scoffed, crossing her arms behind her head as we laid out in the sun by our pool.

“It’s weird for me to talk to my boyfriend?” I asked, making sure I was extra sarcastic.

“Every second of the day...yeah.” she chuckled, making my blood boil even higher.

I chose to be the bigger person however, and just kept to myself.

=====================================

The 5th day of my vacation, I hadn’t heard from Drew the whole day. It worried me, but I was also thinking about what Sally said. Maybe I was being clingy…

A knock on the door startled me from my thoughts. I thought maybe one of the girls had ordered food or something, so I opened the door and my mouth dropped open.

“Hi baby,” Drew greeted, my eyes watering from pure joy.

“Drew! What are you doing here?!” I asked excitedly, throwing myself in his arms.

“I came to see my baby,” he mumbled into my cheek, placing a gentle kiss on the red skin from being in the sun.

“Are you actually fucking kidding me?!” Sally exclaimed from behind us.

“Well nice to meet you too.” Drew mumbled sarcastically while letting go of me but not completely.

“Chill Sally, he’s just here a few days.” I huffed, rolling my eyes as I turned to face her.

“This is supposed to be OUR vacation!” She reiterated, throwing her arms out.

“It still is our vacation,” I emphasized.

“Not when you’ll be all over your boyfriend!” she shouted.

“I barely get to see him as it is Sal, you know that.” I said softly, trying to gain an empathy pass so she would just leave me alone.

“Whatever,” she sighed, clearly irritated as she stomped off.

I paid her no mind since she threw fits all the time like this. I pulled Drew to the room I was staying in, slamming the door shut. Drew threw his stuff by mine, then smirked at me and tackled me on the bed. I let out a little squeal, beaming up at the handsome man that I got to call mine.

“I’m so happy now,” I confessed, biting down on my lip to try and keep my tears in.

“Me too my love,” Drew whispered, sealing our lips for the first real kiss we had shared in a long time.

=====================================

Today was the day we were taking a drive to Las Vegas, which I was very very excited for. It was a nice change to wake up to soft kisses instead of Sally barging in here and demanding I wake up.

“Good morning beautiful,” Drew murmured in his deep morning voice, his kisses continuing their loving assault.

“This is a very nice wake up,” I giggled, snuggling further into him.

Drew hummed in agreement against the skin of my neck, his slight stubble tickling the delicate area. His large hands felt up the curve of my hips, taking my(his) shirt with them.

Drew had always claimed since we started dating that he was obsessed with the wide curves that I hated more than anything. He even said he loved how thick my thighs were, which I never thought in a million years I’d hear come from a man’s mouth.

“I love you, my girl. ” he whispered, my heart fluttering in my chest.

“I love you, my man.” I whispered back.

Our moment was rudely interrupted when Sally banged on the door saying we needed to hurry up. I couldn’t control my eyes from rolling in annoyance as Drew and I untangled from each other. We got ready quickly before making our way to the car to start the four hour trip.

=====================================

The drive was smooth sailing, Drew and I taking turns driving while Sally pouted about having to sit in the back. My hand clenched Drew’s tightly at her sly comments. Luckily, Drew wasn’t having it with her since he knew I wouldn't say anything.

“So this is the guy you’ve been obsessing over for the past year?” she asked snootily, knowing it would irritate me.

“I think it’s more like I’m obsessed with her.” Drew spoke up, squeezing my hand before smiling at me.

“Really? She never shuts up about you.” Sally retorted, raising a challenging brow at him.

“Well, I’m glad because I’m the same way with my friends, they love her.” Drew chuckled, but I could tell he was just as irritated as I was.

We stopped to get gas thankfully or otherwise I would have exploded. I stomped inside to the restrooms, slamming the stall door shut.

I got in the drivers side after I came out, Drew waiting by the door to open it for me. I smiled small at him, getting on my tipey toes to kiss him quickly before getting in.

We finally had made it, but things were not looking good. I had accidentally ended up in the old part of Vegas instead of the main strip, and Sally blew up on me.

“How can you be so fucking stupid is it really that hard to type shit in on a map?!” she screeched.

“It’s not that big of a deal, we're not far,” Caroline commented, annoyed with her aunt's attitude.

“God this is a fucking disaster I don’t even want to be here anymore!” she shouted, my hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Drew sat in silence, not sure what to do to diffuse the tension.

“God will you just shut up! I don’t know where every fucking place is in the world! This is my first time here just as it is yours, now just shut the hell up and let me concentrate!” I finally snapped, angrily typing on my phone to figure out where we needed to be.

I found where Caesar’s Palace was located, and they just so happened to have free parking as well. I slammed the gas and took us there. Drew and I got out of the car, but Sally and Caroline didn’t budge.

A few minutes later, Caroline storms out of the car slamming the door as hard as she could. She rushed past Drew and I, heading towards the exit.

“I’m sorry y/n, I hate that she treats you like that.” Caroline spoke up once we exited the parking garage.

“I’m used to it, she talks to me like that at work too.” I confessed, Drew whipping his head towards me.

“Y-You never told me that…” he murmured, looking down at me with an almost hurt expression.

I shook my head at him, signaling now was not the time.

=====================================

Sally threw her tantrum, then met us in the Bellagio. We sort of made up, but I did it merely so the rest of the day wasn’t awkward. Drew was quiet, probably still a bit upset with me.

We toured the hotel, the decorative flowers and artistry truly breathtaking. We ended up in front of Hell’s Kitchen where we would be eating later tonight. Drew and I took some pictures together to post on our stories while Sally and Caroline walked towards Caesar’s Palace.

“I wish you’d let me say something,” Drew blurted, sitting on one of the steps with me standing between his legs.

“No Drew, it will just make things worse.” I sighed, leaning into him.

“She’s so mean to you my love, I don’t like it.” he stated, his arms coming around me.

“I’ll be ok baby,” I mumbled, playing with his hair while smiling down at him.

“How about...you and I sneak away.” Drew suggested, tapping his fingers on my hips.

“Then they’d really be pissed,” I chuckled.

“We can just say we got lost.” he shrugged.

“Why do I feel like you’re up to something Starkey?” I questioned, raising my brow at him.

“I may or may not have booked us a room for today.” he grinned slyly, suddenly pulling me tight against him.

“To cuddle?” I teased, smirking as I ran my hands up his chest to the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Well yes...but also to fuck.” Drew said bluntly, smiling as I gasped at him.

“Joseph Starkey!” I exclaimed, giggling as my cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“Baby come on it’s been sooooo long, my balls are aching.” he whined, cupping his hand over his manhood.

“Awwww are they? My poor baby boy.” I pouted, rubbing his cheeks with my thumbs.

He nodded, his lips pouting out as well. I couldn’t help the smile widening on my face, his cute pout making my insides melt.

“Let’s go then Drewbear,” I giggled, pulling his arms to stand up.

=====================================

We quickly checked in, rushing up to the room. I didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty of the room, Drew immediately spinning me around and lifting me into his arms. Drew laid us down on the bed, my phone rang out, no doubt one of the girls calling.

“Drew, I-I should get that.” I panted, his kisses moving down my neck. I felt his hand snake down my body, reaching into my pocket to take out my phone.

“They’ll be fine without us,” Drew smirked, lifting up and silencing my phone.

“Drew I should at least text the-” I started, but stopped talking when Drew took his shirt off.

“Sorry baby, were you saying something?” he asked rhetorically, smirking at my staring eyes. I shook my head, my eyes traveling down his toned form.

Drew stared down at me, his gaze sending chills down my spine. His hands traveled from my knees, down my thighs, up until they reached the bottom of my shirt. His eyes flickered to mine, and I nodded my head. Drew’s hands went under my shirt, my breath hitching in my throat.

I lifted my hands, sitting up a little so Drew could take my shirt off. He tossed it to the ground with his, while he did that, I unhooked my bra and threw it in the same direction before laying back down. Drew’s hands ventured towards my breasts as his lips explored the skin of my collarbones, lightly nipping at the area. I couldn’t contain the moan that escaped when Drew lightly rolled my nipples between his fingers,

“Fuck,” I whispered, my nails lightly digging into his scalp as I tugged on his hair.

Drew wasted no time in getting to where he really wants. He shoved off both our pants and underwear, situating me just how he likes before he buried his face in me. His tongue worked wonders, licking and sucking on each spot that made me tick.

“Oh my, baby please don’t stop.” I begged, my back arching slightly off the bed as my legs started enclosing towards his head. Drew lifted his head momentarily to stick two of his fingers in gently, my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

“My girl has such a pretty pussy.” he commented, his breath ghosting over where his tongue had just been.

I moaned loudly at his praise, gripping the sheets between my fingers as I felt my orgasm just in reach. Drew smiled as his mouth went back to work, his fingers increasing their pace as well. I could feel the band about to snap, my legs shaking the closer I got. With just the slight curl of his fingers, the flick of his tongue, and I was done for.

“I’m-” I gasped, not finishing my sentence as my orgasm hit me like a freight train.

“Mmmmm fuck yes baby,” Drew groaned, working me through it as he watched the cum drip from his fingers and onto the bed sheets.

Drew took his fingers from me, sliding them in his mouth to suck them clean. My stomach fluttered watching him, it was the hottest thing I had ever seen him do. He then grabbed my hips and flipped us over so I was on top, my head spinning a bit from the quickness of his movements.

“My turn princess,” Drew smiled, kissing my lips hotly before lying back down.

I smirked down at him, kissing my way down his body. I got to his vline, leaving my mark down it until I got to his dick. I licked from his balls to the tip, squealing lightly when his hand was suddenly in my hair. His chest was moving at a rapid pace, his eyes burning into mine as I took him in my mouth.

“I missed your mouth so much my love, fuck it’s so good.” he moaned, throwing his head back.

I moved my head up and down, using my hands to meet my mouth with what I couldn’t fit in my mouth. His grip on my hair tightened, pushing my head slightly. I gagged once I got to the base, taking a deep breath as my eyes watered.

“I’m gonna cum,” Drew panted, thrusting his hips into my mouth as I sucked harder. I pulled all the way up, sucking on his tip and flicking my tongue as fast as I could. He moaned as he came, spurting his seed into my mouth.

“Let me see, did you swallow it all my good girl?” Drew asked, pulling my hair so my mouth was removed from him.

“Mhm,” I hummed as I showed him my tongue that was clean.

Drew smiled at me, moving his hold to either side of my face and smashing my mouth to his. I held his wrists, moaning softly into his mouth as I shuffled closer.

“Come on beautiful, I want to see you on top.” Drew whispered, helping me straddle his waist and inserting himself inside me.

“Oh my god, Drew.” I groaned, digging my nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good.” Drew grinned, helping me move on top of him.

I rolled my hips into his, the tip of his cock hitting my gspot which had me a moaning mess. Drew slid a hand down so his thumb rubbed against my clit, a high pitched whine flying from my lips as I moved faster.

“I could live in your pussy,” Drew moaned, his thumb pressing harder.

“Drew,” I pleaded, throwing my head back before coming back to stare into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Would you like that baby? To sit on my cock all day?” he growled, thrusting his hips upwards to meet mine as I came down.

“Yes, I would love it.” I whimpered.

“I can feel how close you are my love, cum with me.” he demanded, but I was already there before he finished his sentence.

“F-uck baby,” I squeaked, my body going to cloud nine as I shook on top of him.

Drew came seconds later, burying himself inside of me. I laid my head on his shoulder, ran out of energy to keep myself upwards.Drew held me to him, laying back on the bed as we calmed down.

“Ok?” he asked.

“Amazing,” I answered.

=====================================

After we met up with Sally and Caroline, explaining how ‘lost’ we were, we ate dinner at Hell’s Kitchen. It was amazing, but definitely not worth the price. We walked around a few more shops in Caesar’s Palace, actually getting lost and taking a while to find the way out.

Once we did, we came across a group of men walking by…

“Damn she thicc,” one commented.

“Ooooh she got a nice one, hello!” another yelled.

Drew turned around to say something, but I yanked his hand to keep walking.

“Do not,” I hissed.

Drew instead to make it clear I was taken, placed his hand directly on my ass.

“Drew! We’re in public!” I whisper yelled, but he made no move to remove his hand.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he shrugged.

“Hey baby! Why don’t you leave your pretty boy to be with a man for a night!” someone else called, Drew’s eyes narrowing.

I was suddenly airborne, Drew bending down and lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, surprised to say the least.

“Drew! Put me down!” I yelped, holding on to his shoulders.

“Apparently, these boys need to know you’re taken.” Drew snapped, tightening his grip on me.

“Seriously babe, you’re gonna hurt your back.” I mumbled.

“Didn’t you say your feet were hurting babydoll?” he questioned.

“Yes, but Drew-” I started.

“You’re light as a feather my love, I could carry you all day.” he spoke softly, kissing my nose before coming to a stop in front of the water show between Caesar’s Palace and the Bellagio. He sat me on the railing, standing between my legs with his hands placed on my hips. I kissed his cheek, smiling at how sweet and protective this man of mine was.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you baby,” he whispered back, sealing the deal with a soft kiss as the water show ended.

=====================================

Taglist:

@themaddies-obx @jeyramarie @mxltifandoms06 @bibliophilewednesday @evaporatedrosepetals @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @haley-talks-too-much @dpaccione @itsyagirljay @abbyj1822 @gviosca @runway-to-my-aid @obx-direction-sos @iamaunicorn4704 @cheshirecat107 @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @holy-spn @starrystarkey93 @poguestyleskye @x-lulu @deionswannabegirl @heresalltheshit @lynlovesouterbanks @lemur46 @nina1800 @ilovejjmaybank @noneofmybusiness-cl @artfork @bolaurel @ifilwtmfc @kaitieskidmore1 @outerbongs

[euphoricsunflowers]

sweet angel — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: i hope you guys like this piece because i put a lot of effort into it and i really like the storyline 🥺🥺

word count: 2.3k

content: sub!wonho, dom!fem!reader, not explicitly afab but she/her pronouns for the reader, only like half of it is horny, handjobs, some shit doesn’t make sense just go with it, this fic has cute moments but warning you now it’s not what you think it is.

summary: the goddess of stars and moons, of gold and silk, falls in love with a human with soft features and an endearing pout.

because of a violent and blood history, every year the village sends one of their maidens or men to the goddess temple as a sort of offering to her. she has not attacked the village since and the souls that are sent to her are never returned.

when wonho heard the news, that he was chosen to be sent to the goddess, it’s as if the knowledge was deafening. he couldn’t imagine giving up everything just to be a sacrifice. he had friends and a family and a important role in his community.

but it had to happen, “you were chosen for the sacrifice?” wonho’s younger friend asked him, his voice slightly trembling at the implications.

“it’ll be okay, kyun. i’ll be okay and you all will be okay without me,” wonho smiles distantly, because he can’t seem to find it in him to meet the gaze of his friend. he knows he’s already crying, he doesn’t want to cry more, “it’ll all be okay...”

“no! no it’s not okay!” he cries out, but his cries fall in deaf ears. not even wonho can fight this anymore, “stop! why are you so complacent in this fate? she’s going to kill you!”

“i know...” he mutters sadly, “that’s why i’m so complacent. it’s either me, or it’s you, or it’s jooheon, or minhyuk, or— do you get my point? it has to be me!” his dark yet soft eyes meet changkyun’s first ones, “it has to be me because it can’t be you.”

“that’s easy for you to say! you may want to save us, but we want to save you just as much! it’s selfish to disregard our feelings like that just because you think it has to be you!”

the silence falls over them heavily, and wonho sighs at the tension, “there’s no use in fighting it, kyun. i’m sorry. i dont want to spend my last day here fighting with you,” it broke his heart to see the fire in changkyun’s eyes die out, but they both nod solemnly.

and the next day, wonho was dressed up in beauitful fabrics and was given many gifts to give to her, along with the main gift: his soul. and then he was gone.

he made his way to her temple just outside the village after saying goodbye to everyone. it was so heartbreaking to see the looks on all his friends faces, he couldn’t look any of them in the eye. and with a trembling step, he was now outside the village, and with a few more, he was at the steps of her temple. he takes a deep breath, before stepping inside.

the architecture of the temple was beautiful, golden fabrics and silky white pillars with a beauitful painting of stars in the dark night sky on the ceiling.

“hello?” he calls out, just to hear echos of his own voice. they swirl around his head, making him dizzy, but he catches himself before he falls, “i-i’m here as your soul, the sacrifice from the nearby village.”

still, no response, and when his head fills with a golden fog, he falls helplessly to his knees, his chest filling with the same fog, making him feel so lightheaded and dizzy, “w-wait, please d-don’t kill me!” he begs and that’s when he finally hears it.

“oh, poor angel,” your voice echos loudly, ringing in his ears, “shhhh, you will not die by my hand. you do not need to be as afraid as you are.”

he finally opens his eyes, trying and partially succeeding in seeing where the voice is coming from, “i— please... please,” all he makes out is a figure not of this world, unlike anything he’s ever seen or imagined.

“maybe it’s a bit superficial, but you’re quite... ethereal, dear, and i don’t wish i give you up just yet. give me your name, will you?”

a faint voice in the back of his head reminds him to never give his name, only to tell it, but he doesn’t hear it before his voice speaks before he can stop it, “wonho,” and you smile at him, and suddenly not a single worry passes through his head.

“well, dear wonho, stay still for me for just a second,” you lean in closer, and his eyes flutter shut as you kiss his forehead, it doesn’t feel like much of anything, but he feels his head pulsing (almost as if he was in pain... but without the pain) as you walk away, “there. now you have my mark.”

he can’t see it, but it’s a golden moon just above his right eyebrow, “what... what does it mean?” he notices the star necklace dangling from your neck, the stars upon your dress, the moons seemingly tattooed on your shoulders, but he’s sure they’re just marks of your goddess status.

“your soul is now connected to me. that’s all it means. now, those... gifts you brought. use those to satiate yourself for the time being,” you point to the expressive breads and fruits and wines he wouldn’t have even been allowed to touch back at the village.

“but those are for you...?” he mumbles confusedly, but you just shake your head with a smile. he sudden realizes how all his senses have started to come back to him, how he can see you better now, how he doesn’t hear the echoing of your voice anymore.

“i don’t need such things,” you mutter simply, “now, my angel: let me make arrangements for you, and you can eat in the meantime.”

“oh... okay...” he nods in a daze, watching you disappear into golden dust. the food he eats tastes sweeter and better than anything else he’s ever tasted in his life. the apple is crisp, the bread is so fluffy, he can’t help but be jealous of whoever’s daily life this is.

he spends a long time simply sitting there, almost sickly full from all the rich foods he ate.

“you have pretty eyes, you know,” your words are like a whisper in his ear, but when he turns, you’re quite far away, “i’ve never seen such beautiful and dark eyes, so rich like the night sky, in my entire existence.”

“you’re... really pretty too...” he mumbles, cursing the way you poetically described his eyes and he’s just speechless, but you seem to find it adorable.

“thank you, sweet angel. i’ve returned to you to say that i’ve prepared a bed for you. and i’d like to show you around, if you wouldn’t mind,” he shakes his head, because he genuinely doesn’t mind at all. all those hesistant thoughts disappear into thin air when he hears your voice.

the main hall is where he’s been the whole time, and it’s taller than it is wide or long. he gawks in complete awe at the spacey look of all the rooms you show him. it truly feels like he’s one of the stars in the sky, so floaty and enchanting.

he also doesn’t notices the cute sounds he makes when he’s excited or comfy and it’s adorable when he realizes your hear his little ‘wah’s and ‘oof’s. he gets so flustered, it’s quite endearing.

he excitedly tries to stumble into the next room, but your hand stops him, “that one’s off limits for now, my angel. the next one should be your bedroom, come along now.”

part of him is aching with curiousity, but the other part of him can’t help but give in. your voice is too soft, your demeanor is too gentle, you’re too merciful for you to be bad... at least to him.

the last room you show him is his bedroom. the bed is lined with silk sheets and a thick blanket that’s softer than anything he’s felt in his entire life. he lays down on it, and it genuinely feels like he’s sinking, like the bed his pulling him in, and he never wants to get up again.

“i take it you like the arrangements,” you giggle at his content smile, so warm and comfy in the comforts of your bed. he opens his eyes to gaze at the ceiling, full of stars and beautiful artistry, just like all the other rooms in this place.

“do you think i’ll be able to see them all again?” he asks with pleading eyes, begging for something he doesn’t verbalize. all of his friends, his mom, his world outside the pale walls of your temple.

“it’s possible, but i’m not sure i’d be able to.”

he makes an adorable face of confusion. you notice all the ways he’s so expressive, it’s like he can never hide his feelings because they’re written on his face, “what do you mean?”

“i believe... i’ve fallen for you. there’s a stronger urge to protect you than before with the others. and you’re just so adorable and endearing—” he gets flustered by your words, but that just spurs you on, “—like that!! you get so shy and it warms my heart.”

he looks lost as he tries to take it all in, but you hold your hand to his cheek, and his breathing seems to stop, so shocked and flustered, but you continue, “but i’ve never been able to love like this. and now i... i want to know what it’s like to love like a human, so freely and intensely and with all risks.”

“that’s why i’m still here, why you haven’t... made me...” he finishes your words, and you nod, leaning in closer to him, “when you said ‘to love like a human’, do you mean like—”

“yes,” you whisper, finishing the sentence for him. love, i want to love you. more than romantically, i want to love you until you can’t breathe. so faintly pressing your lips to his that you can still feel his shaky breathes and quiet pleas, “and i apologize for my actions and language, but i believe you’ve already fallen for me, sweet angel.”

his eyes glean with golden flakes in the irises as he stumbles just out of your touch slightly, in shock, “w-what do you mean?”

you chuckle, leaning in even closer, “here, i’ll show you. come, kiss me, for real this time,” he hesitates, but sits up to meet you in a kiss. it’s gentle at first, but when you tilt your head, you increase the passion in the kiss ten fold.

your free hand rubs his thigh and lightly touches his cock over the pants he wore and he moans into the kiss. suddenly your lips are on his neck, leaving golden marks on his honey skin, and he whimpers.

“i can still feel how nervous you are, baby angel. relax for me, i just want to make you feel good,” your voice is like a soft silky feeling in his ear, and all other sounds disappear.

“please don’t tease me,” he pouts, and you laugh sweetly, so endeared by his adorable expression, speeding up the pace of your hand jerking him off.

“i’m sorry, pretty angel. i won’t do it again,” your hand really starts to work him, and you press more kisses to his skin, covering him in small moons and stars, marks of your touch on him.

“i’m getting close...”he mumbles, not seemingly able to do much more than that as he gets closer and closer to letting go completely. poor thing’s barely been touched at all, but he’s gotten so worked up so easily. whether it’s because your touch is special, or because he’s just easy, it’s quite adorable, “gotta c-cum.”

“of course, sweet angel,” you smile sweetly as he closes his eyes, his whole body tensing up as he finally lets go, “let me fill you with euphoria, come on, cum for me,” he cums, getting the blanket and your hand all messy, but that’s nothing to worry about. the orgasm feels like nothing he’s ever felt before.

it leaves him floating in the clouds, so unaware of his surroundings or the way you clean him up, kiss his forehead once more, and just pull him close and hold him, “i can help you fall asleep, if need be, baby angel. just try to relax. you will be safe here for the rest of your days. i’m so, so sorry about everything that had to happen...

but you’re with me now, and what a beautiful star you are.”

...

this is wrong.

this isn’t what he’s supposed to be doing. he should be in his bed, with you, laying there until you decided to wake him. he should be basking the warmth your aura radiates, but instead he’s realizing just how cold it is in your temple when you’re not with him. he realizes how miserable feelings come back to him so quickly when he’s far enough from you, like you’re a drug he’s finally come down from.

and then he sees it: the forbidden room. he’s slightly afraid you might catch him, but you were sleeping sound next to him. there’s no way you could catch him. and even if you did, what’s the worst that could happen? you didn’t seem that scary, and he doesn’t know why, but the curiousity overwhelms him and he physically has no choice but to do it.

the second his hand collids with the door-handle, your voice is in his head. he can’t quite make out what you’re saying, but he lets go immediately, his knees giving out on him for a reason he can’t pin point.

“your soul will make a perfect star for me, wonho,” the words don’t even sound like you said them, but they echo through his head until he’s curled up in front of the door to the room, crying into his hands, begging for the echos to stop, begging for mercy, begging for what he doesn’t even know.

“and what a beautiful star you’ll be.”

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiast @feelslikelove @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting @baa-nana @foenixs @sunflowerkeen @vanillaknj @yr-domxfantasies @treasure-hwa @fleurshopsub

[aphroditestummyrolls]

i wrote a fairytale au moment

my country has reached a terrifying level of disarray and i am scared. so i wrote some escapism (literally) for Joe and Nicky. i was even inspired by this to write a whole fairytale au fic!!! it is long-- like, my star wars fics level of long, and im very excited about it. it feels good to be excited about something lol. 

Folks that wanted to be tagggged: @ilostmyothersock, @littlerosetrove, @antukini, @sunriseseance, and @polarcell <3333 i hope you enjoy it! let me know if you do. 

His heart pounded in his chest, the nighttime’s dewy grass sending him slipping and sliding as he darted between the trees. He didn’t dare take his usual, well-trodden path. Not tonight— not if his father had sent anyone after him. 

The gardener’s cottage was on the edge of the palace grounds, where the lush, even lawns, sculpted shrubs and elaborate floral displays gave way to the foothills of the mountains. The ancient groves of chestnut trees were wilder, monuments to the artistry of a natural, unpruned life. Silver blue moonlight shone on their trunks, guiding Yusuf’s frantic steps as he dove deeper into the woods. He had slipped out of his chamber window without a sound that night— just as he had many nights before. There were no guards stationed out this far. He’d left the last of them blissfully ignorant,  back by the last of the rose trellises— he knew it, but the urgency of tonight was twisting him into knots. He had to be sure. He had to take all precautions. 

He couldn’t live with himself if he accidentally exposed this secret. 

Finally, the endless shadowy forest gave way to a familiar clearing. The iron fist clenched around his heart loosened some, and he heaved a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

The cottage was small. The roof leaked when it stormed, and the front door had gone crooked with age, providing a gale-force draft that rattled the windows on windy nights. The stones used to build it were near as old as the trees around it, starting to crack after weathering centuries of snowy winters and sun-baked summers. 

It was small, yes. But he knew that the bed was warm, that the verdant rows of growing vegetables smelled like earth and honey under the sun’s heat, and that he felt relaxed there. It felt more like a home than the Palace of Genoa, where he was all but trapped under the constant gaze of gossiping strangers. It was even more comforting than the silks and spices of home, across the sea where his family and his people ruled. 

His father had told him that he was accompanying him to Genoa to discuss trade imports between their kingdoms. He had said that they were to spend the year solidifying their connections with the Genoese royal family, drawing up important contracts— it's time you learned a thing or two about compromise, Yusuf. 

That was what he said. 

Yusuf rapped desperately at the door, a ragged half a sob punching out of his throat when he realized that he was finally there, on the flagstone threshold of someplace warm and safe, and— 

“What’s happened? Yusuf?” The door opened to the smoldering orange light of the hearth, the brightest lantern hastily lit by the sleep-ruffled man blinking owlishly at him. “You said it would be too dangerous to meet tonight, while you met with your father…” 

Yusuf would have laughed at his sweet face, if he weren’t about to cry from relief. 

“He means to marry me to her.” He said, shaping the words outside of his panicked head for the first time. They felt too loud in the quiet night, too starkly horrible against the pristine haven of the trees. “The Princess, she—“ Yusuf choked. 

Only now did he notice how his hands trembled, the way his vision was going steadily blurrier— he blinked against the heat building behind his eyes. The summer night was cool, but not cold, yet he still shivered. He shivered until a work-rough hand took pity on him. Nicolo reached out and pulled Yusuf into him, like he had all those months ago, back when everything changed. 

He pulled him through the threshold into the cottage, the floorboards creaking and the door swinging shut behind them as Yusuf spun around to immediately throw his arms around his love’s shoulders. The fog of sleep was gone when Nico’s pale eyes locked on his, suddenly and horribly awake. A hot tear broke ranks and burned a track down Yusuf’s cheek. 

Nico made a sad little noise. It rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest, a hum and a moan, the quiet syllable of no hidden in behind his teeth— like mourning. He cradled Yusuf’s face, his thumb brushing the wetness away. 

“When are you to be betrothed?” He asked, his voice hoarse, like the sentence had to be yanked out of him. 

Yusuf just shook his head, the thought of it flipping his stomach. “They intend to announce the engagement by the end of the summer.” 

Something broke behind Nicolò’s eyes, and Yusuf knew what he was thinking. They had barely a fortnight left. The arm around his waist squeezed tighter, pressing their chests flush. 

He could feel their hearts, pounding in time with each other. Usually it was a comfort, but it was a ticking clock between the two of them now. Their moments together were numbered. 

Nicolo shuffled them around after a few tender seconds— breathing each other’s air, stroking over each other’s backs, existing in shared space— and maneuvered Yusuf to sit on the edge of his bed. It was still warm, the covers rumpled. 

“I’m sorry to wake you. I just… I had to see you.” 

Nico shook his head, “No apologies, Tesoro.” He puttered around the room, stoking the fire from embers to flames before setting the kettle over the highest heat. He settled on his knees, knelt at Yusuf’s feet to study him face to face. 

He brushed Yusuf’s tousled curls off his forehead, and gazed into his eyes. His love’s eyes were a pale, silvery green, but tonight, they looked darker. In the dim glow of the cottage at night, they were bluer than usual, contrasted with the amber firelight. Yusuf leaned into his palm as it traced his hairline, down over his beard and jaw. Nico sat in silence, watching him with the gentleness of someone patient enough to watch the flowers grow. He was waiting. 

“I…” he didn’t know where to start, what to say, “She’s so… She’s so old.” 

Nico’s smile was unmistakably sad, little more than a quirk of lips, but his nod of agreement spurred Yusuf on. 

“It has nothing to do with her looks, really. She’s just so old, and so wasteful, and her gaze on me is so… I just… I understand that I’ve put off marriage as long as my father can take. But she’s 25 years my senior. Her children are my age, Nicolo!” 

He had told these things to his father— he had begged him not to go through with the arrangement, not to agree to the Genoese king’s proposal for his daughter’s hand. It’s already done, he’d said, it was arranged months ago. 

Yusuf had no choice in the matter. 

“I suppose it’s stupid that I was surprised.” He groused, his throat feeling tight and his voice thick. “It’s been so long since any of his children were more than bargaining chips to him— I’m not his son, I’m a new trade route.” 

The kettle on the fire began to whistle, but Nico was sure to take his hands and kiss his knuckles before standing up to fix their tea. 

Left to drift in his mind, Yusuf chewed his lip and floated through his memories, mentally listing the siblings that he’d lost to distant royal families. Only his eldest brother, Farouk, would never leave home. The throne was his, but what about the rest of them? What was the point of having children, of lovingly raising a family, if only to scatter them to the four winds in exchange for trade routes, dowries, and peace treaties? 

It would be different if Mama was alive, he thought with a despairing little whimper. She wouldn’t let him do this…

“Yusuf, breathe.” His love’s voice broke into his thoughts, calling him back from the tangle of his mind. A steaming mug of rosehips, mint and honey was pressed into his palm, and Nico took it on himself to mold his hand around the warm pottery. “D’you have it?” 

“If I say no, will you keep holding my hand like that?” Will you never let me go? he added silently, sure that his eyes were saying it all for him. Nico’s grip was warm and solid, and the calluses felt rough against him. It tethered him to reality, right there on his love’s bed. His pale gaze was soft and glimmering a little. Like he was going to cry. Like he couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to Yusuf anymore than Yusuf could bear the idea of letting Nicolo go. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, reaching out his free hand to card into his long hair. “Don’t let them take me, Nicolo— come away with me.” 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He didn’t mean to spring this half formed, half delirious, half perfect plan on him so soon after waking him up in the middle of the night. The words fell from his lips, unwarranted and chaotic, but suddenly he was desperate to go, run, and be free. 

Before he knew what was happening, the hot mug was lifted from his hand and Nico’s were on him, cupping his cheeks to slam their lips together. His waist was wedged between Yusuf’s thighs, his arms slipping down to wrap around him and tug his hips closer while Yusuf twined both of his hands into his love’s hair,  desperate and trembling with the need to have him as close as he could be. 

He nearly gasped with the need for air by the time they dared to pull away, but he missed his love’s lips the second they weren’t on his. Nico pressed their foreheads together, drinking in deep gulps of air, tear tracks wet on his cheeks and clumping his lashes as he fisted his hands in Yusuf’s tunic. 

Yusuf’s hands in his hair slid down to stroke gently along his cheeks, feeling the wetness and studying how it gleamed in the glow of the hearth. 

He held tight to Yusuf, fingers flexing in the fine fabric of his sleeping clothes. His jaw worked, jumping the way it did when he was holding his tongue. Everything about him was grim and elegant, as still as a statue. 

He was so beautiful, and so sad. 

“Why d’you look at me like that, Hayati?” He sighed, his own heart gripped in a terrible vice. 

Nico swallowed, lips twisted with concern for a moment before he finally sighed and said, “I cannot ask you to leave your life, Yusuf. You are of such importance—“ 

“I am the sixth child of the Tunisian King. Farouk is his heir, and he already has three children of his own. I am nothing more than a mountain pass into the north to my father. My people barely know a thing about me— to them I’m simply the handsome, unmarried oddity of the royal family. My love, you know the wealthy trappings of royal life have never been something I need— but I need a life where I am appreciated and loved for who I am! I need simple comforts and a partner to walk hand and hand with through life. I need you, Nicolo.” 

The fire crackled, and the cottage was quiet. Yusuf’s chest heaved, and tears streamed down Nicolò’s face. His bright eyes shone with a reverent light, like he had in the early days of falling in love— like he still did, in the pale morning hours when Yusuf was still half asleep by his side. It was as if he was falling in love all over again. Awestruck and grateful, his eyes looking like glimmering, full moons as he beheld Yusuf like a fallen star. 

It took a long moment for Nico to find the words. Yusuf stroked his hair, hands still trembling from the adrenaline, even as the knots in his gut began to loosen. 

“Yusuf, you…” he trailed off, rose back up on his knees and kissed him like an act of worship— firm, tender, salty with tears and trembling just as much as Yusuf was. Nico pulled slowly back, just far enough to nuzzle their noses and look him in the eyes. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you.”  

“Will you come with me?” 

“To the ends of the earth. Yes, Tesoro.” He sucked in a breath and let it out long, in a sigh that seemed to clear out all the corners of Yusuf’s cluttered mind. And then, he smiled. 

Nicolo was a man of intricate reactions. There was beauty in each and every one, but it was a private, special thing to see that broad, happy grin. 

“Drink this while it’s still hot— it’ll help your heart calm itself.” He fussed, pressing the mug back into Yusuf’s palm, and this time, he took it gladly. Nico stood to his full height, standing over him where he sat for a brief moment while Yusuf didn’t dare take his eyes off of him. Looking back down at him with the glow of something divine in his eyes, Nico bent himself down to press a soft kiss to Yusuf’s brow. 

“Well, my Prince— where shall we go?” 

Yusuf grinned back, something bright and hopeful growing in his chest. 

They had planning to do. 

********

Yusuf gazed up from where he laid in the glen, soft grass and wildflowers under his feet. The sun dappled the forest floor, streaming down into the parting of the trees where the cottage sat. Nico flickered his lips into one of his barely-there smiles as he gazed down at him where Yusuf had pillowed his head on his thigh. 

Summer was nearly done. The full, green leaves were burnished gold around the edges by the hot sunlight; the garden smelled heavy with ripe harvests and vibrant flowers; and— on the far side of the palace grounds, beyond chestnut groves and manicured lawns, and terraces— the home of the King was glittering with silk flags and banners for the harvest ball. The last days leading up to the festival were certain to be wildly busy— there wouldn’t be a single moment where Yusuf could slip by unnoticed. Nicolo would be fussing about in the palace gardens with last minute preparations from dawn to dusk. 

Usually, Yusuf would be tearing his hair out from the stress. He couldn’t stand the pomp and circumstance, the endless preparations of a ball. He spent hours per day, standing stock still and poked with pins while he was fitted for another itchy, Genoese costume. King Vincenzo was seeking out any opportunity to discipline the palace staff, and the courtiers got particularly insufferable as the long awaited date came to peacock around at the height of their finery. Even back at home, festivals were terrible, but in Genoa, Yusuf’s father had become even more strict. You are representing our kingdom! Act like it! was the most common phrase, hissed into Yusuf’s ear for the most minor infractions. He was constantly watching him, his shrewd eyes looking for any moment to say stand like royalty, Yusuf— shoulders back. 

He hated standing on ceremony and the never-ending scrutiny— but, this time was the last time. His escape was in sight. He didn’t complain a single time about the drapes of scratchy, heavy fabric piled on his shoulders, or the way standing with such rigid posture made his back ache. He took each new indignity with a smile so gracious that even his father was smiling back. 

Thinking of Nicolo made every pinprick more bearable. Lying there in the sun, eyes closed to bask in the warmth, he thought about the expertly packed saddlebags under his love’s bed. He listened to his soft humming— a tune Yusuf had only heard when he was rearing his most delicate seedlings, or on their quietest, gentlest mornings together— and the way it blended into the sounds of the birds. 

Yusuf had never felt so certain of his path. 

He was so content that he didn’t notice that the fingers twining their way through his curls had gone until they must have been missing from him for quite a while. He cracked open one eye, peering up at his love with mild accusation. Nico wasn’t paying attention to his pouting lips, though. 

Sitting up to get a better look at him, Yusuf found Nico’s deft hands full of colorful flowers. He weaved their stems back and forth, his steady gaze flicking over to Yusuf with a sparkle in them. 

“If I didn’t know you like I do, I’d have thought you’d fallen asleep.” He chuckled. 

Yusuf sat close to his side, able to look over his shoulder and study the intricate bouquet. “What a beautiful braid.” He murmured, awe in his voice. 

Some of the blooms were the small, wild ones that grew in the glen, poking out between the wide circles of bright blue coneflowers and puffs of golden orange chrysanthemums that Nico must’ve pulled up from the garden bed beside them. 

“Let me show you how?” Nico replied, phrased as a question even as he handed over his work for Yusuf’s inspection. “It’s not as hard as it looks, I promise.” He said, tiny smile tilting his lips again. 

Perhaps it was his imagination, or his own excitement, but it seemed as if Nicolò’s smiles had gotten wider, his eyes gone softer. The rod of nervous tension that always clung to his spine in the days before a ball wasn’t as unyielding and stiff. 

Nico was more at peace. He weaved the stems of his beloved flowers in, out and under each other, dutifully guiding Yusuf’s hands as he collected his own flowers. He was right— it wasn’t as difficult as it had looked. The rhythm was steady and relaxing, a balm on the last of his nerves as he tucked flower after precious flower into his braid of grass. The crickets chirped, the birds sang, and the sun fed the earth— Yusuf sat side by side with his love, and it felt right. 

“You know, I have been thinking.” Nico murmured, his rich accent nothing more than a purr into the summer breeze. 

Yusuf chuckled, knocking their shoulders together, “Dangerous.” 

Nico huffed an indignant sound, but his eyes rolled playfully when he met his gaze, “Of course, of course— thinking is only for those supremely educated, princely philosophers. How dare I—“ 

“No, no no no!” Yusuf shook out his curls, letting out a full, genuine laugh, “Tell me every thought that has ever passed through your head, Hayati— it is my privilege to be your audience.” He was grinning, laughing, cupping Nico’s sunkissed cheek and basking in the light of his eyes. “What were you thinking about?” 

Nico licked his lips, swallowing like his throat had gone dry as he maneuvered himself to face Yusuf, sitting on his knees like he had not so long ago. Something about it squeezed at Yusuf’s heart, his smile fading into seriousness as he waited. 

He carefully took and set down their braided flowers on the grass, scooping Yusuf’s hands up into his own. 

“If we are to truly leave this place, I want to do this properly.” He said, eyes clear and trained on him with an unwavering focus. “I love you, Yusuf, but I can’t promise any royal comforts, or an easy life. I have no ring or dagger to give,” his breath came out long and slow, intentionally calm even while his fingers squeezed around Yusuf’s hands. He let go, then, picking up his circlet of braided flowers to hold in his lap. “I can only promise you the kinds of beauty I can make grow. Would you…” 

His voice stuttered, his gaze dropping down to his lap and the blue flowers there, as if Yusuf was too blinding to look at. He could feel his smile splitting his cheeks, bright and unabashed, the cry of yes on the tip of his tongue, nearly jumping from his lips.

But he waited, patiently holding space for his love. He reached out and cupped his hand over his wrist, feeling his pulse race under the delicate skin, just to make Nico meet his gaze again. 

“Would you marry me, my Prince?” 

Yes. “Yes, my Gardener. I will marry you.” He replied, whispered like a secret, but more resonant and proud than anything he’d ever said. He was grinning, “Though, I’m not sure how much of a Prince I’ll be by the time we wed.” 

Nico huffed one of his little laughs, meeting Yusuf with one of his rare, open smiles as he lifted the circlet of blue and orange and braided white to rest gently on top of his curls. 

“No, but you will always be mine.” He said, swiping a tear from Yusuf’s cheek, not unlike he had done so recently, for such different reasons. It was more breath than sound, matching Yusuf’s hush. 

I’ve never been so proud to wear a crown, he thought. 

With his chest feeling expansive and warm, his cheeks hot with a pink flush, Yusuf hastily reached out for his own circlet of flowers. Their wide, fragrant petals and little sun-yellow centers felt silky under his fingers as he lifted it to Nico’s brow. 

“If I maintain such royalty, then, my husband must, too.” He replied, voice nearly lost in the birdsong. “King of my heart, my true love.” 

Nico’s face had gone soft and slack with a familiar expression— as if Yusuf was the sun itself, as if his warmth and light had singlehandedly brought him to life. 

Yusuf let himself be held as Nicolo took his face in his hands and leaned in close. He pressed his lips to his tear-stained cheek, and then the other. He peppered the smallest, gentlest kisses across the freckles on his nose, and Yusuf wrapped his hands around his love’s wrists to keep him close. The last kiss was softly, loving left on the crest of his brow bone, tender enough to bring the forest to a standstill. 

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 1/8

read on ao3

The sun is just rising when he gets to the rink, the early morning light streaming in through the high windows, making the ice glow. He’s the first one there, just like he planned, so he gets to take his time getting ready. He stretches a bit in the locker room before lacing up his skates and heading to the ice. Placing his guards on the boards, he takes a minute to just look, relishing in the stillness, the quiet, the smooth surface of the untouched ice. He takes one step, two, and he’s off, gliding through the mirrored surface, carving his path as he goes.

Buck can’t remember a time when skating wasn’t his entire life. He first put on skates at four, wobbling on the side of the rink while Maddie was in lessons. He started lessons of his own at six, and after that, he never stopped thinking about being on the ice. And he was good, too — by eight he was competing in the regional circuit, already landing a handful of clean triples when most kids were still struggling with doubles. He qualified for his first nationals at 10, won gold in Juniors at 11, and by the time he qualified for Junior Grand Prix at 13, people already knew his name. They knew his “modern artistry” as they called it, his powerful jumps, and talked about him like he was someone worth watching out for once he made it to the senior level.

It helped that by then, Buck was already addicted to competition. He loved skating on its own — the power he felt when he jumped and flew across the ice, the beauty of well-executed spirals and step sequences — but nothing made him feel more alive than doing it in front of a crowd and a panel of judges. Landing each element perfectly sent a thrill through him that he never wanted to stop feeling, and seeing his scores, usually much higher than others, was something that never got boring. He wanted to be the best, was on his way to being the best, and those hazy dreams of an Olympic gold medal didn’t feel quite as hazy anymore.

For a while, at least. Until he showed up.

But Buck doesn’t want to think about him right now, he just wants to enjoy the peace and quiet while he can. He’s not skating to anything in particular, just the music in his head taking him wherever feels right. He’s so lost in it, trying to nail the bit of choreo he just made up, that he doesn’t even notice Bobby until he hears him clapping from the benches. 

“Looks good, Buck. Talk to Hen, I think that would work in your new short.”

“Thanks Bobby,” Buck says, making his way to the boards. Bobby hands him his guards and his water bottle, heading back towards the locker room.

“Come on, we’re just about to get started.”

Bobby and Athena have had this beginning of the season meeting for as long as Buck has been at their club. They go over assignments for Grand Prix and the Challenger series, figure out general training schedules, and do a “goal setting session” for what they want to accomplish this season. 

Bobby calls it a “family meeting”, which is cute but also annoying. Skating isn’t a team sport. Families don’t win medals. And that’s all Buck wants to accomplish every season until he retires: he wants to win.

He sits down on a bench next to Maddie, who’s deep in conversation with Athena about her and Chimney’s programs, he’s sure. She’s been planning them since Worlds, so they’re probably fully choreographed and ready for competition. The Buckleys are nothing if not overachievers.

Bobby clears his throat, standing in front of the roll-away white board, and gets started. Buck’s half paying attention — it’s the fifth time he’s heard the “athletes aren’t born, they’re made” speech, he gets the point — letting his eyes wander over the small crowd of skaters. Chim’s on Athena’s other side, nodding along with Bobby. May and Hen are standing along the lockers, whispering quietly. The Juniors kids are sitting on the floor, in awe of their coach as he talks about hard work and victory. Buck gets it, he’s still a little in awe of Bobby himself, but not so much of his recycled speeches.

There’s one face, though, that he doesn’t see, and for a minute, he’s hopeful. He’s gone, he moved, he went to work with Rafael in Lakewood or something, so I’ll only have to see him maybe four times a year instead of every goddamn day thank god—

The doors to the locker room burst open, and fuck. 

Because, nope, he’s still here. Windswept and out of breath and 15 minutes late, yet somehow still oozing confidence and jackassery.

Eddie Diaz. Olympic Bronze Medalist. Two time reigning World Champion. And the absolute bane of Buck’s existence.

Bobby doesn’t even say anything, just waves him in and keeps talking. If Buck had been that late, even if it was for a good reason, he would have had his ass handed to him in front of everyone and would’ve had to run laps or something after his ice time. But of course, Eddie gets a pass.

Whatever.

Buck doesn’t pay much attention to the rest of the meeting, too busy trying to keep himself from glaring at Eddie every 20 seconds. He tunes in enough to hear that they’ll both be going to Skate America and NHK because of course they are and spends the rest of the meeting trying to keep his blood pressure down. When it’s finally over, he makes his way through the crowd to get back to the ice for his first session with Bobby. He’s scrolling through his phone, trying to find his music, when he feels someone walk over and join him on the bench. He looks over, and lo and behold— 

“Eddie,” he says with what he hopes is a low level of contempt.

“Buck,” Eddie responds, looking over and nodding as he laces up his skates. “Good summer?”

“Fine.”

“Ready for the season?”

“Always am.”

Eddie smiles, easy and charming, and Buck hates his fucking guts. He nods at him again as he heads onto the ice, and Buck gives into the temptation to thump his head against boards a few times.

It’s going to be a very long year.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck has hated Eddie since they were 16 years old.

Okay, maybe “hate” is a little strong, but whatever emotion it is when just looking at a person makes you feel like smoke is coming out of your ears, that’s how he feels. 

It was his first season in Seniors, and he had been doing better than he expected in the first half — a silver and a bronze at his Grand Prixs, and fifth at the Grand Prix Final. Nowhere near perfect or the best in the world, but he was the best US men’s skater and poised to win gold at Nationals. He hadn’t even heard the name “Eddie Diaz” until he got to Nats, and even then it was just whispers — some small town kid from Texas who was landing clean quadruple jumps at a time when some of the highest ranked skaters couldn’t. Buck was working on them — his coach kept harping on how important they’d be to the sport one day — but he’d hit a growth spurt just before the beginning of the season, so he was still getting used to his new center of gravity. 

But the rumors were true, Buck saw it with his own eyes at a practice session. He remembers the mix of awe and dread as he watched Eddie jump — the thoughts of damn I want to be as good as this kid and he’s about to take everything from me.

Eddie won Nats by about 30 points. Buck came in second. The US only had one spot at both Four Continents and Worlds, and Eddie got picked for both. Something about having “a better chance with his abilities and consistency in the international field” or some other bullshit. 

He didn’t podium at either. Buck felt shamelessly vindicated.

Over the next three years, they became perfect foils of each other — Buck with good jumps but better artistic expression and connection to the music, Eddie a little stiff but a blur of height and speed in the air. They flip-flopped at competitions — Buck got silver, Eddie got gold. Buck got gold, Eddie got bronze. Nats turned into a yearly showdown, the media always highlighting their “friendly rivalry”. Buck must have been a better actor than he thought if he was coming across as “friendly”.

He won Nats right before the Olympics, pretty much guaranteeing his chances of getting named to the Olympic Team. Two days before the announcement, he broke his leg on a bad landing and felt his dreams shatter along with the bone. 

Eddie went instead. He placed third, higher than any US man had placed in 12 years. 

Buck watched it all from his couch, unsure if he’d ever be able to skate again.

Fast forward three seasons, and while Buck is still struggling to get his consistent jumps back, Eddie keeps skyrocketing. He hasn’t lost a major competition in two years and is the overwhelming favorite to win the gold medal in Beijing. It was bad enough to hear about it from other skaters or see at competitions, but then Eddie moved to Bobby and Athena’s club a year ago, so now Buck gets to suffer through first hand observation.

It simultaneously pushes him harder and makes him want to die.

Which is the exact feeling he has right now as he watches Eddie land a perfect quad toe triple toe combo. He tried the same combo yesterday and landed flat on his ass, so now he just wants to practice it over and over until it’s perfect and he can rub it in Eddie’s smug face. See, you’re not the only one who can do it. You’re not that special.

“You better watch how hard you’re frowning, Buckaroo, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” Hen says as she walks over to him. She follows his line of sight, and her expression turns from vaguely worried to exasperated. “Staring that hard at Eddie isn’t gonna make him fall.”

“It could,” he says. “Maybe I have untapped psychic powers that are just waiting to come out.”

She gives him a flat look. “Sure, and I’m the long lost crown princess of a small European country. Can we go over your free instead of fantasizing about stupid things, please?”

“Fine, fine,” Buck says, finally turning away from Eddie as he steps on the ice.

He loves his programs this season — he usually doesn’t get used to them for a few months, but this time around, he already feels connected. His short is more modern, melancholic and gritty, while his free is more classic, hopeful, makes him feel like he’s floating rather than skating. He’s always been good at choreography — either taking it and making it his own or creating steps himself — and he feels like both really highlight his talents. Plus Hen, being the amazing choreographer and friend that she is, let him have a lot more input this time around, so it all feels more authentic. He likes to think that no matter what happens, he’ll be proud of whatever he puts out with these pieces.

They work on his free for an hour, and he stays an extra two to work on his short and his jumps on his own. By the time he leaves, the sun has set, his legs are already sore, and he has a lovely bruise blossoming on his right thigh from falling on his quad flip three times in a row.

It’s all worth it, though. Because as much as he wants to be happy with his programs no matter what, he knows he won’t be unless they get him to the top of that podium, hearing the national anthem play with a gold medal around his neck.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s floating away in his dream, higher and higher like a runaway helium balloon. He can see the whole world below him, spread out and endless, rolling hills and forests and oceans. He wonders if he’ll ever come back down, or if he’ll just keep moving up and up, into the atmosphere, into space, into a different universe. He thinks that might not be so bad.

Suddenly, he’s falling, plummeting back down to Earth like an asteroid. He’s racing and racing towards the ground, bracing for impact, for everything in his body to break, he’s falling and falling faster and faster—

He wakes with a yell, covered in sweat, his leg twinging. He takes a few minutes to breathe and get his heart rate back down, but even then, he’s still shaking.

He looks at the clock. 4:30am. He could go back to sleep — he doesn’t have practice until noon. 

Except his mind is churning now with the phantom memory of breaking. The feeling of going from standing to not being able to move, pain radiating from his leg into every other part of his body. The panic, not just for his body, but for his whole life and what it could turn into. What he could lose.

He lays there for another half an hour, but the memories just keep burning. So, he does what he always does when he needs to shut his mind off.

He goes to the rink.

First practice isn’t until 8am, so he uses his keys to unlock the back door. Chuck, the janitor, was sick of waiting two extra hours to lock up after him, so he gave him his own set after his first season. Buck gives him a giant cookie bouquet for Christmas every year in return.

He feels better after just a few laps around the ice. The chill that bites as he speeds up his pace, the white noise of his blades in the ice, it all settles him like nothing else. He speeds up still, setting up for a triple Salchow — easy, almost second nature, a jump he could do in his sleep. He pushes off, but as soon as he’s airborne, something jolts through him, makes his stomach turn over. He pops the jump to a single and lands on the wrong edge, losing his balance and sprawling across the ice on his back. He stays there, staring up at the lights, letting the cold leech in through his sweatshirt. 

Almost four years later, and this is still happening. He scares himself out of jumps like he expects each one to end badly, even though he knows — logically, statistically knows — that it’s unlikely. 

And yet. Here he is. On his back. After another failure.

He’s too tired to feel pissed or frustrated like he usually does, so he’s just resigned. Today is not the day for jumps. That’s just how it is.

He gets up finally and skates over to his bag, digs his headphones out and queues up his short program music. He works through the step sequences, over and over, making little tweaks as necessary, thinking through where the judges could take off points until it’s perfect. The repetition quiets the last of his racing thoughts, and he finally feels like himself again. 

He’s moving into his last spin when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He slows down enough to recognize Eddie, inching towards the locker room like he’s trying not to be seen.

Buck stops, staring Eddie down. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Eddie freezes eyes wide, looking suspiciously guilty. He walks forward, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I have an 8am and wanted to beat traffic on my way in. The back door was open when I got here, and I saw the lights on, so I—” he swallows, looking anywhere but Buck’s face. There’s a blush crawling up his neck, and he looks nervous.

Nervous like he just got caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Buck thinks. He narrows his eyes as he checks his watch — it’s 7:00. He gets wanting to beat traffic, but a whole hour?

He quickly makes his way off the ice, grabbing his bag from the bench. “Well, I’m done for now, it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. Buck’s just about through the door when he hears his name. He turns back to Eddie, his blush now all the way up to his hairline.

“You looked good out there. Can’t wait to see it in competition.”

Buck freezes, processing the compliment. A compliment. From Eddie. They hardly talk unless they have to, and even then it’s never friendly. Cordial, sure, but not friendly.

So why is he being so nice now?

Buck just narrows his eyes again before stalking off to the lockers.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Mads, I really think he’s gonna pull a Tonya Harding on me.”

She looks at him over her wine glass, unimpressed. “Yeah, because that worked out so well for Tonya the first time.”

“I’m serious!” he says, taking a sip from his own glass. Neither of them drink during the season, so they’re taking full advantage of their weekly wine nights while they can. Buck’s not a lightweight by any means, but two glasses in and he is starting to feel a little fuzzy. And a little crazy, trying to figure out what Eddie was up to this morning. “You haven’t seen any weird guys lurking around have you? You’d tell me if you did, right?”

Maddie rolls her eyes. “You sound insane.”

“I’m not insane if I’m right. Why else would he be watching me?”

“We all watch each other, Buck! He was watching Chim and me yesterday too while he was on break. He even said our twizzles were really in sync.”

“You better watch your back too, maybe he’s trying to take the whole club out.”

“Oh my god,” she says, pouring another, very full glass.

“He’s just so— he’s—”

“Annoyingly perfect? Obnoxiously talented? I know, Buck, you only bring it up every 15 minutes.”

Buck deflates at that. “I don’t— it’s not that often.” Sure, he rants about how clean Eddie’s edges are and how good his quad flip is, but that’s because it’s so irritating. Buck works just as hard as Eddie, and he knows he’s not flawless. But somehow, Eddie is. Stupidly flawless and perfect and— 

“I’m just saying,” she says, squeezing his hand across the table and bringing him back to the conversation. She pours him another generous glass, too. “This energy is great, but it would probably be better to put more of it into practice and less of it into worrying about one of your competitors. I know you’re nervous about this season, but you can’t let that turn into this weird paranoia. Don’t let it take your head out of the game.”

He sits back and sighs. She’s right, of course. She always is.

He doesn’t tell her that, though. Just takes a gulp of wine and tries not to think about Eddie’s annoyingly perfect anything. 

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a news truck parked outside the rink when he gets in the next morning, and he spends about 15 minutes contemplating just going home and telling Bobby he’s sick. 

The lead reporter — Taylor, he thinks — claims they’re here to do a profile on the club and how they’re preparing for the Olympics, but he knows they’re mostly here for Eddie. They want any and all sound bites they can get from him to use over and over and over in coverage leading up to Beijing. Quotes about hard work and following his dreams that they can play over footage of him skating and smiling after winning again. Buck’s already annoyed at the prospect of seeing them on NBC Sports for the next six months.

To their credit, they do film everyone practicing at some point. They get Maddie and Chim doing their new rotational lift, May landing her triple lutz that she’s been working on for months, and Buck’s nearly perfect (if he does say so himself) flying camel spin. So at least they have good footage of him, not just random shots in the background of Eddie’s. Maybe he’ll even get his own little promo. 

Bobby calls him into his office after lunch, where the news crew has set up an interview space. He wasn’t expecting to talk to anyone — maybe a quick question at the boards, but nothing this fancy. He sits in one of the chairs as someone puts powder on his face and tries to do something with his hair. Taylor sits down across from him, a 1000-watt smile turned on as the cameras start rolling.

“So, Evan. Or do you prefer Buck?”

“Evan’s fine.” As much as he hates his first name, it’s how the general public knows him. Buck is reserved for friends and family.

And Eddie, an annoying voice reminds him. Fine, friends and family and...competitors.

“You came in second at Nationals and Four Continents last year, and fourth at Worlds. How do you feel about the momentum going into this Olympic season?”

“Every season is different,” he says as diplomatically as possible. These reporters always want drama, someone slipping up and bragging about themselves when they have no right to. He’s not wrong — every season is different. No matter who’s expected to win or who has the most medals, you never know how everything will play out. “We haven’t had a men’s field this strong in a while, so it’ll be interesting to see what happens. But I’m as prepared as I can be at this point.”

“You were injured right before the last Olympics. Do you see this year as a bit of redemption for yourself?”

He feels his smile go tight. “It’s every kid’s dream to go to the Games. It’s certainly still mine. I’m ready to do whatever I can to make that dream come true.”

“Eddie Diaz has been with your club for just over a year now. What’s it like training with him?”

There it is, he thinks. He’s surprised she asked so many questions about him before getting to Eddie. The first responses he thinks of are all variations of he sucks and I can’t stand the sight of him, but he knows any petty answers will be worse for him personally than anyone else. So, as much as it pains him, he settles on the nicest version of the truth he can muster.

“Eddie’s an amazing skater,” he says, surprising himself at how genuine he sounds. “He’s been paving new paths in the sport, and he’s pushed everyone to be better to try and get on his level, myself included. He definitely brings that same energy to the club.”

“Do you think you can beat him this year?”

Wow, she’s not holding any punches.

He shrugs, smiling through the sudden burst of anxiety in his veins. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Despite his less than fiery interview, Taylor asks him what he’s doing after practice right before they leave. It’s easy enough to turn her down — he’s got an early PT appointment in the morning, plus the way she’s been looking at him all day is making him itchy. He can tell she only sees him as an object — as a means to get her name on a lead story or a body to keep her bed warm or both — and that’s just not something he’s interested in. Maybe a few years ago, when sex was a way for him to forget about the potential end of his career, but not now.

As nonchalant as he was in the interview, this season really could make or break him. 

He can’t afford any distractions.

[maraudersandlily20]

Disturber of the Peace

Harry was used to visitors. His friends made it a habit to come and check on him, at least once a month, just to ensure that he was still living. It had been a few years since The Boy Who Lived had disappeared and Harry was almost glad to see him go. He was learning a great deal about himself in France and liked the constancy of a place that belonged to him.

He had been occupying himself while there, of course. He had taken to tending plants as well as painting. Draco told him he was rubbish, but he still liked to try. And then of course, there was the reading. McGonagall had sent him an array of books regarding defensive magic. He wasn’t completely daft and knew that McGonagall wanted him to return to Hogwarts, but as a teacher. She had as good as stated it in her last letter, telling him that he was always an extremely bright student and his life experiences were more than enough qualifications to get him the position. He had enjoyed the books, toyed with the idea of going to teach, but had declined the offer. He declined the offer three separate times. But, he had to admit, at least to himself, that he felt a bit of longing in him when he thought about it. He would have the chance to form the minds of students, create in their minds an image of him that didn’t revolve around him being the chosen one. It was a nice thought. 

He sighed as he flipped through the pages of one of the latest books regarding countering spells. He had learned a great deal from the writers and knew that, with all of the knowledge he’d gained recently, he was more than capable of teaching. But he felt blocked, like he wasn’t sure. He was afraid of deciding and that left him stuck alone in a cottage in France.

As he was contemplating this dilemma, he heard a knock from the door. Assuming that one of his diligent friends was returning with some kind of food or some great story in their new positions, he rose to get the door. He was glad his friends were moving on in their lives, but he sometimes felt like he was being left behind. It was his fault, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Ron was becoming one of the brightest aurors of their generations. Hermione had already taken a position in the ministry. Ginny was a professional quidditch player and Luna had started on a path toward tattoo artistry. It was all rather fine and well. And Harry was in France, tending his plants, and hoping no one would recognize him. It felt off and a bit unfair.

He shook himself of those thoughts and moved to answer the knock. Wondering if Draco had returned from England early, he opened it to reveal, not Draco, but someone he was unused to seeing at his front door. 

Neville Longbottom stood on his porch, holding what appeared to be a succulent in one hand and a bag in the other. He hadn’t seen Neville since his wedding nearly two years ago. He looked good. 26 years old and one of the youngest professors in Hogwarts history. His work in Herbology was revolutionary and the research he provided was unmatched. Harry would never admit it to him, but he had purchased every single piece that Neville had published. He didn’t understand any of it, really, but he liked seeing Neville’s name on the top of the parchment. A comforting thing.

But this wasn’t a paper, this was Neville Longbottom in the flesh. Harry felt himself grin.

“Neville!”

“Hello, Harry!” Neville answered, moving forward and giving Harry a hug, though an awkward one, considering his hands were full.

“Come in, come in!” Harry said, moving aside so Neville could enter. He did so and took in the sight of the little cottage that Harry had made his home. His eyes scanned the pictures on the shelves, some magic some not, as well as paintings and wood carvings. Neville was also pleased to see that every plant he had ever given Harry was on display somewhere on the walls. 

Neville turned to Harry, setting his bag down and holding out the little plant. “This is for you. I found it in a little shop on the way in, and figured you might like a plant that wasn’t entirely magical.”

The other man smiled and accepted the gift. “Thanks Nev. It’s lovely.” He moved further into the room and placed the plant on a shelf, beside one of his favorite flowers that Neville had gifted him. It had very picky standards when it came to shelf-mates, but Harry figured the little succulent might do the trick. The plant bent over in curiosity, seeming to smell the succulent before releasing puffs of pollen in appreciation. It liked it. Harry turned to find Neville grinning in pride.

Later, when they had settled into the main room with cups of tea in their hands, Harry began to ask Neville the questions he had wondered since his arrival. “What brings you here, Nev? I haven’t seen you since the wedding. How's Hannah? How’s Hogwarts? Tell me everything.”

It seemed Neville couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “I know, it’s been too long. I’m sorry about that. But, between the field work, the wife, and the teaching, I haven’t really had any time to think.” Harry waved him off, not caring about the time. He was simply glad to see him. “Hm, alright, well. To start, Hannah is doing well. She’s taking to healing like a bee to honey. She and Draco were in the same classes when they started, though Draco left after they became certified. She likes having her own practice. She’s set up shop in conjunction with a few other healers in Hogsmeade, so we have a small house out there. That way I can still teach. It’s wonderful.”

“That sounds lovely, Nev. I’m glad you and Hannah are doing well.”

“Yes, me too. And to answer the question I’m sure is on your mind but you’re too afraid to ask is no. No babies on the way yet. Much to Hannah’s mother’s disappointment. I’m so scared of babies that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it.” He persisted, despite Harry laughing at his words, “They’re so complicated! Why can’t they be more like plants? Water, dirt, sunlight! That’s all they need.”

“You could argue that kids need the same though,” Harry said, placing his cup onto the saucer on the table.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, that’s what I’ve been told. We just don’t want to rush anything.” He turned his attention to the plant sprouting on the table beside his chair. It was growing quite splendidly, Harry would often brag, and it was. The flowers were beginning to come in and the scent of the small tree-like plant was unmatched. 

“As for the other two questions you asked, they are actually connected,” Neville continued, avoiding Harry’s eyes by staring at the plants.

“Oh?”

“See, Hogwarts has been quite the place since the war. Much of the integrity is still there, but it has that feeling of purity that you only get from a new building. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s good,” Harry was cautious in his reply.

Neville turned to look at him. “It also is looking for new teachers.”

Harry immediately sighed, figuring the conversation was heading in this direction. “Nev-”

“No, Harry, come one. Hear me out?” After a moment, the exasperated man gestured for him to continue, looking put out. “I know McGonagall has been on your tail about taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and I know you’ve been pretty persistent in turning it down. But McGonagall thinks now is the best time. Our current teacher, Douglas Finn, is going on sabbatical to study the movements of Thestrals. We need someone.”

“There are plenty of capable people who could fill his position, Nev.”

“Yeah, but none of them are you.” 

Harry stood angrily at his words, grabbing their cups and heading into the kitchen to clean up. Neville followed. “You know I’m right, Harry. After you decided to leave Auror training, you’ve been listless. Not even trying to find things that make you happy. Ron’s told me all about it. You’ve grown stagnant the past few years.”

“I’m fine, Neville. In fact, I’m really happy. I like living here, I like not having people stare at me all the time. I like the peace and quiet.”

“Bullocks!” Neville interrupted him. “I know you, Harry Potter. I know everything about you and how your brain works. We’re practically brothers at this point. I’ve seen your dick, alright? We have a bond.” “Please don’t say we have a bond after stating you’ve seen my dick ever again, Nev. Please.”

“Fine,” Neville was trying to hide a laugh, Harry could see, but he pressed on. “I know that you’ve really enjoyed your peace and quiet. And I’m not saying you should give it up completely. But you’ve been here so long that the world suspects you to be dead.”

That made Harry smile. “I know, I’ve seen the articles.”

“Exactly,” the man stated, pushing at Harry’s shoulder. “You’re not dead, Harry. You just aren’t living. You aren’t doing anything anymore. And I can tell that you’re not happy. Content, maybe. But not happy. And teaching these kids, with the experiences you have under your belt, might be exactly what you need.”

Harry folded his arms, leaning against his counter. “I mean, I understand where you’re coming from, Nev, I really do. But I don’t think I’m cut out for it. And then, there’s the whole Draco situation, which, if you’ve spoken to Ron, I’m sure he’s told you all about. It’s hard with him having to return to England and spend so little time here. If I was at school teaching, I wouldn’t have any time to spend with him. Our relationship is so new and fragile, I can’t risk it. It just doesn’t make sense for me to throw away everything I’ve built here just because when I was younger I worked so hard NOT to be dead.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Harry trying to show Neville that he was being sincere. But Neville had a way of seeing Harry in a way that he had forgotten. It was almost like he could read his mind. 

“I don’t think you mean it, Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been so worried about peace and quiet and anonymity that you’ve forgotten about living. And this cottage is changing from a home into a hideaway. I think you’re using all of this as an excuse. I think that you’re hiding.”

It struck a chord in Harry that he had tried to ignore. Was he giving up life because he was comfortable? Was that the way he was supposed to be living? He wanted to feel fulfilled, wanted to have a life that didn’t revolve around him being Harry Potter, and he thought that France was the answer. But, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Harry was hiding. Hoping the world would forget about him. 

Maybe he wanted that, though, because he thought that was best.

“I really appreciate you coming here, Nev, to talk to me. I know McGonagall probably sent you here. But I really am happy. I like living in this town where no one knows me. It’s…”

“Safe?” Neville finished for him. Harry nodded. “I don’t mean to sound like a prick, Harry, but when have you ever cared about being safe?”

Again, a tug in his chest. He didn’t like how much Neville could see him. These were all arguments he had had with himself before, but Neville had a way of making it stick. “I’m afraid-” Harry started, his voice getting caught. He cleared it and stared out of the window, trying to work up the courage to admit this. “I’m afraid I won’t be any good. I’m afraid I’m going to let them all down. I don’t want to feel responsibility for so many kids. I feel like it’s taken me this long to be responsible for myself. I’m afraid of failing.”

There, he had said it. The truth about the offer to teach at Hogwarts. Harry was terrified. His friend seemed to understand him completely, nodding and moving to stand beside him.

“When McGonagall asked me to teach, I didn’t know what to do. Hannah thought it was a brilliant idea, even though she was still doing her nursing courses. But I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t exactly been the brightest or most liked at school as a kid, and I worried that the moment I stepped back into those halls, that boy who everything always went wrong for would come swinging back into me.” He laughed. “And he did, a bit, but that’s beside the point.”

Neville took a moment to think, as if planning his words carefully. There was a moment of peaceful stillness between them before he carried on. “Before I made the decision, I went and saw my mother. She was happy to see me, as she always is. She doesn’t really know who I am besides the boy who brings her snacks. But she knows me, and that seems to be an improvement.” 

Neville shoved his hands deep in his pocket, a habit he had when he felt uncomfortable in his vulnerability. “I told her about the offer to teach and how I worried I wouldn’t be good enough. And she listened, like she always does, but she said something pretty remarkable after I finished. She said, “no one is ever good enough until they try”.” He looked back at Harry, his face red. “I decided that I would give it one year, and if at the end of the year I hated it, I would leave. But I tried. And I loved it. There’s something about kids that brings a light to you that you can’t get anywhere else. And here I am, three years later. I have had a lot of awkward moments, but I’ve also learned a great deal about myself. I get to care for these kids and instill in them a passion for things they learn about. It’s pretty special.”

Harry contemplated his words as Neville tried to drive the point home. “Just give it a try. Give it a year. And if it’s not for you, then you can move on. I won’t try to stop you or get you out of your comfort zone ever again. You can come back to France and have all the peace and quiet that you want. Okay?”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a bit overwhelmed. But he sighed. “Alright Nev. One year.”

Neville grinned and clapped him on the back. “I’m glad to hear it! I’ll let McGonagall know.” He headed back toward the front door to pick up his bag, Harry trailing behind him in confusion. 

“Do you need a place to stay?” Harry asked, wondering again if Neville had come all the way to France to convince him to teach.

“Nah,” Neville smiled. “Mrs. Longbottom is currently waiting in a hotel in Paris for me. I’m all set. We’re celebrating one of our many anniversaries, because she likes to celebrate and I like her. So it works out for everyone.” He opened the door and stepped through before taking a pause and turning back to look at Harry. “It’s good that you said yes, Harry, considering Malfoy agreed to take the potions master position last week. See you at school!”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed in surprise, but it was too late. Just as quickly as he had appeared, Neville Longbottom was gone. Leaving Harry confused and suddenly employed. He wasn’t sure what had happened. 

[florianavlaicu]

Door to Freedom, self reflection on pattern recognition

Pattern recognition sets us free- this is the gem revelation for today’s Life theme and transmission.

Free from what? One might be able to go and do anything he or she desires… but still not feeling free.

Is freedom a feeling?

I love watching the movie Eat Pray Love.

I have been watching it every now and then for the past years.

First time I watched it was in summer of 2018, in Transylvania, Sibiu. I was a volunteer for a permaculture garden. Beautiful time and place.

The movie and the place lifted me much and gave me the insight and clarity that it was time for me to prepare to go to India. After almost 4 months and my first vipassana, I took a one way ticket to the mystical land to find what I did not even know I was looking for.

Every time I watch the movie I get a new perspective.

You know that scene in Bali where she is with this naked Dj that is inviting her into a casual love affair and she is saying to him something like: I have dated you 15 years ago and I have dated you 6 months ago.

This is her recognising of a pattern choice in relationships that is not serving anymore the integrity of her heart. She has made the unconscious conscious by taking these inner and outer trips to return to her core. I think that the balance they are storytelling in the movie is the actual core stability that is explored in the Gene Keys.

Even if we all take this template journey, of Eat Pray Love, go Italy, India and Bali… it will give us totally different perceptions and revelations, because our deep subtle layers of energetics will highly influence everything, all the time and space.

I skipped the italian indulgement and went straight into the unknown of India.

It was overwhelming, exciting, revelatory, fluid, sacred… all the humanities frequencies low and high were there.

I stayed for 133 days and it gave exactly what I needed.Purpose.

I met with a frequency there that I later found out through the Gene Key why I was so fascinated by it.

This frequency was embodied by Ananda Mayi Ma, "the most perfect flower the Indian soil has produced".

I felt this sacred feminine energy twice in Goa, once in my room and once in the open sitting space of the yoga school I was working for.

It felt so familiar to me with heart feeling of surrendering to her divine will.

But both times, I let myself be distracted by something else, outside my self.

I began to study, think and feel of her… then shortly after, the Gene Keys appeared in my life and showed me that in my Hologenetic Profile I have the 58th, unlocking a deeper understanding within me related to Bliss, Joy, Service, Divine Will and Love.

If you would like to meet this Divine feminine that was and is Ananda Mayi Ma, Richard Rudd, the wisdom channel of the Gene Keys is offering us this profound poetic exploration here:

https://youtu.be/LSuihr6yUKI

So you see, even if it might have seemed to be a shallow thing to do…. to follow a movie script… I actually followed my intuition, my joy.

The same I feel about Bali… there is something there for me to meet within. And I know the currents of love will take me there eventually.

I am activating myself so much with the Gene Key, I am reading and contemplating; opening myself into awakening by the favor of Grace.

I was seeking for some higher teachings encompassing perspectives from a multidimensional level that would lead me to a deeper understanding of life, of myself.

I am actually seeking to return home. I am looking to return to my integrity and empty myself, as so much I have taken in as if it would belong to me.

Today, the 55th got me. I am free 😂

Or at least I am working on it.

I am shocked by how blind I was and still am. The many beliefs that I have that I am not aware of are contouring my reality. And then I complain and I blame.

This runs deep in my family. This runs deep in our collective.

And it feels very connected to being judgemental, thus keeping myself far aways from experiencing connection with the integrity and perfection of all of life.

Today I found out that what I was intuitively stretching so much was my fascia, feeling very constrained… showing how much I have separated myself from the whole, because of my borrowed beliefs.

I feel like a carousel of revelations, that if I am engaged in one relationship it is more than enough to illuminate my shadow patterns. I understand the need for slowing down. Where I was running, there was nothing really to see, to be able to take responsibility to bring my unconscious into the light of consciousness. I was given the perfect environment to see my shadow and light work.

And I am honest to myself now that I was not in enough energetic flow and awareness to do work for others. Although this work still is, just by personal integration and sending out a fresh energy wave out there, in there.

I saw patterns of how I am addicted to stress and hijack my own nervous system, choosing to consume things that would amplify my stress. Slowly, slowly, my choices changed and still changing. It greatly to pause and breathe deeply, especially when I am not in the mood, cause I am drifting in a mental noise.

I was wondering and asking directly to my Inner Divine Self to explain to me what actually sovereignty means. What does it mean to take responsibility for myself? How do I become self sustainable? How do I end this co- dependency loop? To whom did I give my power away? What is clouding my heart sight?

What is empowerment?

Is it enough to just See the pattern and when next time comes, choose to walk away? Be present and patient, Floriana.

I have been taking in so much of the spiritual knowledge as if all is relevant and true for me. Emptying something and filling it with something else. Should empty and just let God fill in?

Not easy to filter and keep in my life what is really nurturing me into self awakening and ascension.

I am recognising my victimhood shadow.

I am seeing the play of life and how I have projected so much on others, blaming them for my lack, for my misfortune. I am tired and rested in the same time. I have cleaned some more of the inside basement and attic.

More green blue golden inner space, that’s my wish. Make it indigo, violet, red, orange and yellow also.

All is so subtle, that slowing down is a prerequisite to self- artistry.

My Lemurian Roots surfaced some more these past few days. Like an old and new love arising within my cells. The intents are becoming purer and purer. The Spirit is awakened within me. I tell, this is the softest of the softest love I have ever felt.

In my daily morning water ritual, I am beginning to let go of any kind expectations, just being the Loving of all that is.

I wish I could be like this all day, all ever and ever.

One day, I was woken up with: “ Speak for the Water “

I have no idea where my next home will be, but I am sure it is near her body, The Healing Sacred Feminine Water. I have some ceremonies to perform.

I am embracing my Sensitivity and it feels it has a lot to do with the Receptivity of my mind, my body, my heart.

I understand that I am an expression of a certain frequency of Ecstasy. I was made of the ecstasy of the primordial water giving birth to life. But what does the Sun want from me… Everything is showing me that I was born to be THIS LOVE.

I am allowing myself to be seen without expectations.

I am practicing giving love without expectations.

I see that I am playing hide and seek with myself. I pretend to do something else when someone comes and might discover my joy, judge me for it, punish me for it. I am afraid to be myself, I hide myself and then I seek for myself… an endless loop of self- inflicted prison.

Yes, I was a child and my parents laughed and punished me for my natural expression and exploration.

Then I would learn to avoid being seen, heard, but longed to be seen, heard.

I missed and craved for their warm touch, acceptance and tenderness.

So I entered deeply into the shadows of sexual addiction.

I blamed my DNA legacy. I am a victim and I am not a victim. By reinforcing my blaming pattern, I continued to constrict the actual beauty of my DNA.

Eventually life showed me that Hey, it is ok, feel into your pain, embrace yourself, you are on your way. This is the way. Guilt is the Sun Light in disguise. Awakening is not easy, nor hard.

I completely understand people who are living in the woods and I completely understand people who are living in the cities.

If my inception as a human seed and my 9 months experience inside the motherly belly is contained in the wisdom and library of my cells, then can I make now a transfer of care, safety and beauty perception of the outside world? Incept and carry myself again? Rebirth myself as completely new human being, born with activated 3rd Eye,

Vitality, Intuition, Peace and more, knowing that all is well and life is interconnected, self- sustained, beautiful and its people are amazing pearls that I can trust and love without fear and limits?

Can I visit that belly timeline and make some energetic operations? Hmm.

In a way, self love is just this.

I will be born like this… but in the future.

This life is about a different kind of journey and it is ok, perfect just as it is.

I have been under so much stress and unease, misfitting the requirements of the world.

Can I let go of the attachment to my own storyline of being a victim of life?

Yes. No. Not yet. Yes.

Can I sing without hiding and judging myself?

Yes. No. Not yet. Yes.

Some friends said that I am changing my mind too much. Yes, I am. I must. I must return my mind to its original receptivity.

I must return to my original beingness. I must return to play. I must not make it a must. I must forget myself into mindfulness.

I find it very strange that I need to do things to survive.

I see there is a game of survival, of competition.

I am just not energising this game anymore. I have discovered a new way of living.

So, we all energise some kind of game after all?

Do we really choose, now, in this lifetime, in this Earth body or it had been decided when we sat and raised pure consciousness hands at the Divine Table of Service?

I am such a copycat sometimes.

I am so eager to guide people to live their lives in a better way, but is this really ok? Even guidance of any kind feels more like entertainment, always tricky.

I find that being the silent loving witness of someone speaking is the most genuine guidance I can offer. Me; maybe you feel different and that is cool, fine by me.

I remember the community calls from Gene Key. I was in their first Deep Dive into Genius, 4 months virtual retreat. And I wish I had joined more of these calls, but I was too distracted. I was only in the last two… profoundly beautiful to just hear, to just be with other people, to just speak, to just have others be with me.

Was the teacher indirectly showing us that there is so much guidance, so much orientation in the silence of listening just?

I did this a few nights ago, without recalling these community calls.

My friend shared some of his life experiences and within me I decided I will not judge, interfere, analyse, project or get entangled.

After his sharing, he said that he is surprised that after so much talk he does not have a headache, as he normally would. I took it as a successful listening, in which I spoke energetically with acceptance and compassion.

Yes, indeed, freedom is such a deep ancient longing. But what is freedom actually? How do we awaken to this great changing frequency?

What are the patterns that we have to become aware of so to explore this new domain?

Because slavery still is on our beloved planet, just in slight different style. I invite you to imbibe yourself in the transmission of The 55th Gene Key to find your own sense of freedom. If you are ready and resonant.

We are in a majestic, divine game.

It is not enough to know the rules of this game to create a desired outcome. Maybe it is a good idea to even surrender the outcomes.

Still, it remains a good idea to be a human being with an awakened, original and upgraded DNA. And for this

miraculous occurrence, changing one’s Aura Attitude is key to this process of returning to our sacred tune.

With openness& friendliness,

Floriana

[love-takes-work]

Steven Universe Podcast: The Fantasy of Steven Universe

This is an outline of the Steven Universe Podcast regarding “The Fantasy of Steven Universe”: an issue of the podcast in which the creators and writers discuss a multitude of deep issues, along with some Q&A from both fans and insiders. No volume number or episode number was given for this one. The official description:

It's the last new podcast episode of the season and we asked the cast and Cartoon Network Executive team to submit questions to Steven Universe creator Rebecca Sugar and former Executive Producer Ian Jones-Quartey! They tackle everything from design to wormholes to escapism to advice to your younger self and dreaming big. Then former writers Matt Burnett and Ben Levin sit down with Rebecca to discuss lessons learned, achieving goals, and what they hope people take away from the show. And finally, Kat Morris and Joe Johnston return to answer a last batch of Fan Q&A!

This is a long podcast with a long summary, so as usual I will give you a bulleted list of highlights, followed by a detailed summary.

Highlights:

Many of the show’s themes and important elements were there right from the beginning--all the way back to the pilot.

Rebecca Sugar comments that she didn’t really learn how to have fun until 2016.

Figuring out how to pace the show out and reveal each piece of information at the right time so it could support another later revelation was very exciting to the writers. They had the pieces laid out like a puzzle on their table.

Mostly self-contained episodes still gave the audience a piece of information or represented growth for a character. The less “plotty” episodes helped keep the energy up.

The Crewniverse knew that their titles were sometimes trollish, but Ben was honestly surprised that people expected apocalyptic happenings for “Last One Out of Beach City.” It was just a Less Than Jake reference.

Rebecca really enjoyed getting the chance to “damsel” Greg for the Zoo arc; she really wanted to use a lot of princess tropes, even that one.

Viewers should take away from the show messages of compassion, self-love leading to ability to connect with others, ability to understand and listen to others, and opportunities to see themselves as well as to see others.

Rebecca has drawn all of Fluorite’s component Gems, but all she’ll say is “they’re fun.”

Lars and Lion are not immortal, but they will live for a very long time and have slowed-down lifespans. Kat Morris says Lars may have no sense of taste; that if he eats it’s just for sustenance.

Lars has all the same powers as Lion. He can indeed do a sonic blast and make portals and walk on water. They weren’t able to work this into an episode we’ve seen, but Rebecca assures us that Lars will discover his abilities and it will be “really funny.”

The Crew had specific voice actors they wanted for the Diamonds. They got who they wanted cast by writing excited letters. Susan Egan’s was particularly weird because she had to play Tiny Floating Whale first.

Blue Diamond was the most difficult Diamond to design because her hair was hard to decide on. Rebecca’s influences for her were Martha Graham’s “Lamentation” dance and Fruma Sarah’s ghost from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow Diamond was mostly directly inspired by Patti LuPone’s performance as Evita.

White Diamond was influenced by many old-timey vibes, including Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfeld Girl and the artistry of Nell Brinkley. She had heavy eyelashes and fingernails--lots of design elements they did not incorporate into other characters, so she could adhere to old, “stifling” beauty standards.

Rebecca was disappointed that reveals of Pink’s full jester-like outfit got out before we saw it in the show. Her hair was originally higher in early designs, which contributed to her mural having spikier hair.

Greg is based almost entirely on Tom Scharpling; Rebecca was comforted by his voice when she had upheavals in her life. There’s also a little bit of inspiration from various Crewniverse dads in him.

Another Gem could have a hybrid child like Steven only if they had enough power to do it and the complete commitment to the idea that Pink had.

Steven and his “Gem self” are not really separable and can’t exist independently of each other. His Gem half will not remain if his organic half dies. They are one being. He will likely have a very long life because of his Gem powers, but (though the Crew agrees this is grim), he will probably die before the Gems do.

The Jade Fusion won’t be in trouble anymore once the Jades come out of their bubbles; in Era 3, the act they were punished for is no longer disallowed. However, the trauma of being isolated and then punished as soon as they felt it was safe to fuse may require some healing. Rebecca assures us they should be able to have the opportunity to heal and be okay.

Obsidian definitely has future vision powers. In fact, they’re expanded to the point that the noise is difficult to interpret; very powerful, but difficult to get anything useful with them.

Pearl became a more maternal character because of her voice actor, Deedee Magno Hall, being “such a mom.”

Zach Callison as Steven was so genuine and professional to work with, and the vibe in the booth with regard to him was closely mirrored in the show.

Sometimes Deedee’s or Michaela’s ways of interacting with Zach would influence how Pearl or Amethyst would interact with Steven.

People would give lots of space and reverence to Estelle when she was reading her lines, which parallels how the other characters treat Garnet.

Only Steven can take anyone or anything through the pink space connected to Lars’s hair and Lion’s mane, but yes, Steven could take Lars through Lion’s mane, and if he stuck his head out, there’d be infinite Larses sticking out of infinite Lars’s hair until he pulled his head back in.

Designing new characters requires lots of back and forth and hundreds of drawings. Rebecca asks “why,” not “what”--why are you including something in a character’s design? If it doesn’t contribute to who they are, why is it there?

Influences on the show that may have been missed by some fans include G.I. Joe the animated series, Future Boy Conan, and Mr. Bug Goes to Town.

In response to Deedee requesting a fusion between Pearl and any of Rebecca’s childhood favorite cartoons, she suggests maybe either Bart or Detective Conan, then says she’ll have to think about it and get back to Deedee.

Advice Rebecca Sugar might have given her younger self was that it would be okay and she’d get to tell the story she wanted to tell--but also that she should eat, drink water, and exercise.

One profound thing Rebecca learned while working on the show was that she can be out and bisexual regardless of who she’s with, and that it DOES matter.

One profound thing Ian learned while working on the show was that the story you want to tell doesn’t have to be constrained by the medium--and your fantasy story isn’t necessarily someone else’s fantasy. You can tell your story.

The detailed summary is below!

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

McKenzie kicks the podcast into gear and starts by asking Rebecca Sugar, Matt Burnett, and Ben Levin about the intentions for the show: what did they think it was going to be, and did it end up being that?

Ben shares an anecdote about how their agent seemed to have thought Steven Universe was based on Rebecca's comic Pug Davis, but then they saw the animatic and it was completely different from what the agent described. Matt felt that the themes and certain important elements of the show were already there from the animatic at the beginning. They were excited to see the show even if they might not end up getting to work on it, and they could tell just from the pilot that there was a lot of mythology to be unearthed. One of Ben's expectations that did not pan out was that he thought there would be more dungeon crawling episodes, but that was not the reality because . . . it turns out episodes like that are really difficult to do.

As for Rebecca, she says she had many goals for the show, and one thing she likes to do with projects is make them about something she hasn't truly figured out yet. The big thing for Steven Universe in Rebecca's mind was the issue of gendered cartoons for children. She felt uncomfortable growing up, because socially she was expected to like what girls like but her favorite things were "for boys," while "girl" cartoons did NOT appeal to her. She felt guilty and weird about it, and so with her cartoon she wanted to attack that at first, use and scramble the language others had used to put her in that position. As she worked on Steven Universe more, she realized that some of the things she wasn't allowed to love as a kid were things she DID love. Learning to understand herself better allowed her to build a better relationship with the symbols and elements of children's cartoons that she could have authentic feelings about. She feels she learned a lot.

Next, McKenzie wants to know which episodes were the most fun to write (or throw ideas around for).

Rebecca quips that she did not learn to have fun until 2016.

Ben says he and Matt had fun though. Their job was to take Rebecca's ideas and figure out how to squeeze her thoughts into 11 minutes. Ben thought it was important to reveal something new about a focus character in each episode. Rebecca thought it was exciting to pace out what to reveal when; she says all the elements were on the table "like a giant puzzle." They had to carefully place when we would understand each thing as the audience before they could do something that built on it. She felt it was "like painting a picture across time." You couldn't do something like "Change Your Mind" at the beginning--you needed all those pieces to get it at all.

Putting yourself in the audience's mind as a writer is important, Ben says. Infodumping doesn't work, and laying the groundwork before you start a story isn't the best way to make a story meaningful. Matt thinks the big story payoffs at the end of season 5 were discussed in the first two weeks of planning, and they all thought it would be so cool to finally get there.

The things that were the most fun were actually the deviations from those stories, though they kept with the themes. The "random idea" episodes that felt more like one-offs were responsible for keeping the energy up, according to Matt. "Steven and the Stevens," for instance, was pretty self-contained (and needed a diagram to keep it together). Rebecca points out that "self-contained" episodes were mostly the goal, but you'd still see a change in the character or get an important piece of information in each one. Steven is LITERALLY not the same character anymore after "Steven and the Stevens."

Weaving the "infodump" stuff into Steven's personal growth was important for the type of story they were writing. They also joke about how certain episode titles were very trollish, like "Last One Out of Beach City" and "Rising Tides, Crashing Skies." (Both of those were definitely NOT "apocalyptic" at all.) They were aware that titles could send a message, but Ben was actually really surprised at the expectations surrounding "Last One Out of Beach City" because for him it was just a Less Than Jake reference. ^___^

They also enjoyed getting to do whole new environments with mini-worldbuilding, like the human zoo. The zoo arc comes up and Rebecca remarks on how much she enjoyed "damseling Greg." She really wanted to do pretty much every princess trope in some way, even that one, and she just loved having the opportunity to have Blue carry Greg away "just like Peach."

McKenzie next asks the group what's something they want people who have watched the whole show so far to come away with at this point.

Ben says he's not sure about others, but he feels the show lets us take home messages of being in touch with your genuine feelings and expressing what they are. Matt agrees with Ben about how the show helps viewers learn to see others' perspectives. They hope people had the opportunity to see themselves represented on the show, and that some people got the opportunity to see representations of people they'd never seen before--and that those people who were newly exposed to folks they'd never thought about before would learn to be more compassionate.

Rebecca wants people to come away with the notion that they must learn to love themselves. That it is close to impossible to connect with others if you haven't learned how to love yourself. Kids deserve to be able to express themselves as long as they aren't destroying themselves or others in the process. She thinks sometimes kids are sent destructive messages about how it isn't okay to be themselves, and that people they trust might be shutting them down, but this show is a message to say it's wrong of them to do that and they deserve the freedom to be who they are and say so. Being allowed to talk about how you feel shouldn't be some kind of fantasy. It should be reality.

The next segment of the podcast involves Kat Morris and Joe Johnston answering fan questions with Rebecca Sugar!

Q: Has there been any thought as to what Fluorite's Gem components are?

A: Joe just immediately says "NO" and Kat teases him, but Rebecca speaks up and says of course she has drawn them all. She gave it to Colin and then says "I don't know where it went." The only thing Rebecca is willing to say about it is "they're fun."

Q: Are Lars and Lion immortal now? Or is their aging process just extremely slowed down?

A: Kat agrees that their aging process is just slow. About as slow as Lars's heartbeat in "Lars' Head." Kat points out that she and Joe have disagreements about what Lars's life is like. She thinks Lars probably lost his sense of taste and only just eats occasionally to sustain his body. Rebecca says "they'll live a really, really long time," and Kat says "longer than they'll want to."

Q: Can Lars do the Lion roar warp thing, or does he have his own power?

A: Kat says he can! They tried to write stories around it but never quite did it. Kat jokes that he can do it if maybe he gets tickled or something. Joe says he can make a warp and he can make a sonic blast with his voice. When they discuss whether he's figured that out yet, Rebecca replies that he WILL figure it out at some point, and when he does, "it'll be REALLY funny. Don't worry about it." They speculate that maybe that's how Lars was getting around doing space pirate stuff (infiltrating the Citrine asteroid and the Cosmic Jubilee), but there's also the fact that he doesn't have a Gem and can't be scanned. They also specify that Lars can indeed walk on water.

Q: Does Lion have the ability to sense Steven somehow? Or did he find Watermelon Steven some other way?

A: Rebecca claims they're in tune, but you can't really pinpoint whether it's magic or whether it's just that animal sense some pets have.

Q: How did you pick the Diamonds' voice actresses?

A: Kat says, "begging?" Rebecca says they knew who they wanted and they agree they wrote passionate letters. Rebecca tells the story of bringing Susan Egan in to do Rose's voice for the first time, but the first time you hear her voice was coming out of the Tiny Floating Whale. Susan did the little "ooo!" noise for it as well as the one line that's spoken in "Rose's Room." She had to explain that Rose was very important later, but for now she just wanted Susan to come voice the whale.

Q: Which Diamond was the most difficult to design? Which was the most fun to design?

A: Rebecca says Blue was the most difficult to design. They took a long time deciding on her hair and what would be "inhuman" about her, and there was a lot of trial and error involved. They actually revealed her cloaked form in "The Answer" before they figured out her hair. Rebecca feels that White might have been the most fun because they had to incorporate so many influences. They're all really influenced by tons of things though: for instance, Blue is influenced by a Martha Graham dance ("Lamentation") and the ghost (Fruma Sarah in a dream) from Fiddler on the Roof.

Yellow is very inspired by Patti LuPone in Evita.

White is inspired by Nell Brinkley and Hedy Lamarr (in Ziegfeld Girl)--the aesthetic of the time, really.

White has many design elements that other characters don't have. The heavy eyelashes, the fingernails, the "perfect thigh gap"--she's supposed to be very different from the others, with "beauty standards" that you haven't seen on other characters, meant to be read as stifling and old. She's even on an actual pedestal with shoes that are actual pedestals.

For Pink, Rebecca describes it as "kind of devastating" that even though we'd gotten the first reveal of Pink when she punched a mirror in Stevonnie's dream and was "contorted with rage," the audience got to see her on a model sheet with her full outfit "looking like a little clown" and people kind of got it instantly. Designs for the Diamonds go back to 2014, though Pink's hair was a little different and "looks like a Truffula tree" according to Rebecca. (Joe says that's why her mural looked spikier, because the early hair designs for Pink were higher.) Rebecca was really excited when they nailed down Pink's hair to look like Steven's hair. Rebecca was excited but Kat was scared.

Q: What inspired you to make Greg?

A: Tom Scharpling! Rebecca used to always listen to Tom's radio show (The Best Show) toward the end of college and she based Greg's character on him. She says Tom is currently doing a thing where he's reviewing every episode of Friends. She felt that during a tumultuous time in her life, moving from New York to LA and being apart from Ian, Tom's voice was a constant and a comfort. On his show, Tom is "more cynical" than Greg, but she describes him as only being mean to meanness, and that even when he's mean it's a "force for good in the world." Being angry is fine as long as you're directing it at other things that are mean, helping to cancel them out. She finds Tom inspiring, and thinks Greg is sort of the result of that cancelled-out meanness. Rebecca also adds that Greg has a lot of her own father in him, and she believes the other Crewniverse folks probably pull in elements of their own dads to write him.

Q: Would another half-Gem/half-human fusion like Steven be possible for another Gem besides Pink Diamond?

A: Pink Diamond couldn't fuse with humans--Steven's unique that way. Pink obviously created Steven (not through fusion), but now Steven is the result of that process and he exists sort of as a bridge. He can fuse with humans because of his humanity, not because of his Gem. He would actually be able to pull other humans into his Fusions with Gems, but he'd have to be there to preserve that connection.

Joe interprets the question a little differently, saying he thinks they're asking whether another hybrid might be possible, and Rebecca says it'd be possible only for a Gem as committed to it as Rose was. She specifies that Rose obviously had the immense power of a Diamond as well as that dedication, so if some other Gem that had a similar level of power and a similar interest in creating an organic child wanted to do it, okay, they could.

Q: If Steven were to die of old age, what would happen to his Gem half?

A: Joe hates this question. Rebecca agrees "that's so grim." She says that Steven is Steven, and he is NOT Steven when he's broken into two pieces. There isn't one without the other. Kat thinks Steven wouldn't die unless he chose to (and might do that if everyone he cared about was gone). Joe apparently hates existential questions and Rebecca sort of comforts him saying the Gems will live and live and live, and that Steven will probably die before them so he won't have to be stranded alive with no friends left.

Q: Is the Jade Fusion from "Together Alone" okay?

A: Yes, she's fine! Rebecca says she got poofed like many other characters have been before, and probably bubbled for what they were doing, but in Era 3 what they were doing is no longer wrong. They will emerge and be allowed to be themselves. Rebecca says, though, that there's also a question of whether they're okay as a person, and that what they went through is really hard to go through. She felt so isolated all that time, and then as soon as they got the courage to emerge in front of other people for the first time they were punished for it, so in that sense she's really kinda not okay. She will have opportunities to heal from her traumas, though, and her future is bright.

Q: Does Obsidian have future vision powers?

A: Rebecca says "Yes" decisively. The others chime in to agree. Rebecca says Obsidian's powers are overwhelming and difficult to handle all at once, though with many components they also have support handling it. The future vision Obsidian experiences is so overwhelming it's almost worthless because it's like noise--it's expanded and cacophonous.

Next, Ian and Rebecca are answering questions submitted by the cast and Crewniverse!

Q (from Zach Callison): What aspects of the characters are inspired by the voice actors?

A: Rebecca says the biggest one is how Pearl became more maternal because of Deedee's influence. She's "such a mom."

The interaction of the cast in the room worked its way into the characters' interaction. She also says Steven's growth from childish to mature for his age came from Zach growing up with him. She describes him as professional, insightful, thoughtful--enough such that adults could take cues from him or aspire to be like him. Ian thinks Zach was really interested in the process and very open to learning from other actors. Steven as an empathetic character was enhanced by Zach's genuine personality. Others who worked with him would be inspired and excited by him, which worked for the authenticity of Steven's vibe too.

Rebecca also noticed that sometimes Michaela or Deedee would cheer Zach up or egg him on, and the way they did those things differently also informed the characters of Amethyst and Pearl when they'd be in similar situations with Steven. They also noticed that if Estelle was there for a recording, everyone would stop and give her space to do her thing, which turned out to be very appropriate for how the others act with Garnet sometimes.

Q (from Matthew Moy): Can Lars go through Lion's mane and vice versa? Would they just fall right back out if they entered?

A: Rebecca points out that she actually answered this recently on the Reddit AMA! First, she wants folks to remember that Steven is the only one who can bring anyone or anything through mane space. Yes, Steven could take Lars into Lion's mane and go over to Lars's tree, but if Lars were to stick his head through the grass there, Lars's head would come out of his own hair. But this would cause infinite Larses to come out of infinite Lars's Heads, until he pulled his head back out.

Q (from Estelle): When you come up with new characters, how much time do you spend revamping the look of each?

A: It's a lot of time. Hundreds of drawings. Ian describes a process of coming up with early characters who didn't have a spot in the story yet, and they'd come up with random looks for them, and then they'd narrow down what specifically that character would need when they learned where they would go. Elements that mean something are retained and elements that do not mean anything will be swapped out. Boarders and designers would all take a crack at the design afterwards. Rebecca says that by the time boarding is happening, they need the character's "shape language" to be nailed down. Rebecca also mentions that many designs just get shelved if they're not really working, like some of the designs for Sardonyx did from before Rebecca realized Sardonyx would be a bombastic nerd, not a stoic and imposing presence. Even after they discovered that, though, the tooth gap was a later addition. Rebecca finds it helpful to ask "why" instead of "what" in design. Why is someone designed the way they are? Everyone will work together to create a design that blends form and function. She usually starts with rough sketches that they'll build off of as a starting point.

Q (from Michaela Dietz): With all the references to other shows (Gurren Lagann, Adventure Time, Revolutionary Girl Utena, etc.), what's a reference fans may have missed?

A: Since they pull from SO many places, it's hard to say, but Ian points out Future Boy Conan (Rebecca identifies a scene where the Quartzes run through Pink Diamond's body as a particular scene that's similar), and Rebecca says the rainbow worm from the Kyanite Colony is inspired by Orbitty (from the 80s Jetsons) and other ugly aliens from the time that were influenced by E.T. Rebecca points out Mr. Bug Goes to Town, an obscure film that nobody really watched because it came out on D-Day. Then Ian mentions the G.I. Joe animated series, how they referenced "It's all a fake-a-roo!" from that. And "Frybo" was a reference to The Thing.

Q (from Deedee Magno Hall): If Pearl could fuse with one of Rebecca's childhood cartoon favorites, who would it be, what would their weapon be, and can we see a drawing?

A: Rebecca says this is REALLY hard because she liked so many cartoons, but she just throws out Bart. Their Fusion would have a skateboard with spikes on the front. Maybe the Fusion would be named Part or Bearl. Or maybe Detective Conan; the Fusion would have all those gadgets. She decided she'd have to keep thinking about it and she'll give Deedee an answer.

Q (from Conrad Montgomery): If you could go back in time to give yourself a bit of advice as you started on "Gem Glow" and the rest of the series, what would it be?

A: Rebecca says she would tell herself to drink more water and exercise, and don't forget to eat. She thinks maybe she would tell herself it was going to be okay, because she didn't know that at the time. She says it may have been helpful at the beginning if she could have known she'd get to finish the story she wanted to tell. She was always anxious that her show would be yanked and she wouldn't get to finish what she'd dreamed up, but she did. She also feels like she was so young at 25 to be doing what she was doing, and maybe she'd like to just turn herself into a 31-year-old.

Ian thinks the show became what it was because of what they were learning along the way, though. If you really could tell people ahead of time what the things they're making are going to turn out like, you don't get to understand the process of something coming back wrong and learning how to deal with that. They feel that created a lot of what was good about the show, the debates and discussions. Rebecca is not sure she would have just said "trust yourself" because sometimes she trusted her team and was grateful for it.

Q (from Rob Sorcher): What is the one most profound thing you learned about yourself as a result of making the series?

A: Rebecca says she didn't understand she could be bisexual and be out. She thought declaring your orientation was about who you were with, not about who YOU were. So even though she was telling stories that spoke to feelings she'd had about partners or potential partners who were NOT Ian, she didn't realize she could claim that and care about that, mostly due to the fact that she'd been repeatedly and strongly told it did not matter. But it does matter. How you feel about yourself and how you experience attraction is a relevant and important thing to be able to embrace. She felt like she was "insane, all the time" because she wasn't supposed to talk about it or was told it wasn't interesting. She was floored when people she had connections with still wanted to be friends with her after she started talking about it, and being open about this aspect of herself has made being alive much easier.

If something matters to you, it matters, period. In terms of cartoons, the incredibly gender-segregated way they were doled out to kids in the 80s and 90s had an effect on Rebecca, and for a long time she didn't know why she so desperately wanted to "scramble" that. She finally found ways to discuss how uncomfortable she was being told that she had to be a woman when she was not. She realized through making her cartoon that though she had plenty of wells to pull from, this particular well was one she hadn't been able to speak about, so she did it through this medium and chose this as one of her stories. It's certainly not the only one she has to tell. She reiterates that she is bisexual and nonbinary, and though the language for that might change in the future, "that's what's going on" with her.

Ian's "profound thing" was that he realized you can share a message without being limited by the expected confines of your medium. For example, he knows that if he claims to be making a science fiction/fantasy cartoon, people will have preconceived notions of what that means, but maybe for some people, a major fantasy is just being told it's okay to be who they are, or living in a world where being who they are is okay. You don't have to worry about whether your reasons for making this art will satisfy someone else's reasons for watching it. Rebecca agrees, and says other people's "escapist" fantasies seemed really one-dimensional to her, never satisfying what SHE would like to escape to, but she realized she'd been holding contempt for escapism in general because of that, which dissolved when she was able to explore hers. There is a place for her, there is a dream she can have, and she no longer resented other people for having theirs. Sometimes a fantasy is about even getting to dream in the first place instead of just being fed these ideas of what you're supposed to want.

Everyone should get to have a dream and say it out loud.

[Archive of Steven Universe Podcast Summaries]

[rowanfoster]

{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare,  aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

[k-l-s-h]

Last night, during the pal’s live, I started to wonder how her OCs dealt with love. More precisely, how they handle it. If they’re the kind to show or tell or both. I don’t forcibly think about the romantic kind of love, though it does play a huge part in my questioning. But love in general. For the people closest to us, family and friends included.

Of course, what started as a simple question, a maybe fleeting one turned into more because my brain loves to escalate things.

I began to reflect on my own relationship with it, and thus how Asian people show it too since I grew up with mostly Asian principles and traditions. And beyond Laos, I noticed that a lot of Asian families rarely say “I love you.” or hug their child once they’re not kids anymore. Hell, I noticed that I rarely say it myself to the ones I love, besides my little brother. I say it more easily to my friends tho’ but still, it is rare for me to do so. I am more of a show don’t tell kind of gal. I think that I also don’t like being vulnerable, probably because of past trauma but I digress. Besides making me wonder how people in other countries handle it, if it is warmer than us Asian folk do, the same or worse, I did wonder how my OCs did, so here we go:

Arria, beyond her cold and somehow intimidating presence, loves hard, passionately and most of the time selflessly when you do manage to find yourself a place in her life and heart. However, the more she does love someone, the less likely she will say it. It’s not linked to her pride or anything close to that she just, don’t. It feels out of place to her. Too much and too little at the same time. The only people to whom she says it like it is, “I love you”, are, Arch, because he just has that much influence over her and she loves him that much that it spills out every now and then, and Aaron. To whom she says it every day. “我爱你”. Because she knows he needs it, and she is willing to say too much and too little to him every single day because it’s him.

She has other ways of saying I love you though.

I think of Ange, who she often loves romantically, and who made her love the ocean that she used to fear, because it now reminds her of her. I think of Cyrus, the same as Ange, for whom she is willing to be vulnerable to, in front of everyone, and outright say that she gave up on him once, and won’t ever again unless he wants her to. Talking about him, he is with Arch, the one that she’d forgive just like that, always, if he just as much as apologizes. Wary, resentful Arria. Who’d be bitter to even her twin brother for at least a few days if not weeks if he really crossed or hurt her. Ange is so very special, most of the time Arria doesn’t know how she’d react to her until it’s too late. I like the idea too, that she doesn’t need to say it. Especially to Cyrus because it’s just evident that she does. And because I think, at least with her, that he is not too effusive with words either.

She is not very demonstrative, at least not in public. PDA is not her thing. She does indulge Latisha though, even in front of strangers when she has the urge to hug her from the side or behind. She also lets Damjan slip his arm on her shoulders when they walk, so people won’t come and try to flirt with neither him or her. It makes her snicker every time. She so rarely says “I love you” to Latisha because she loves her like her family. Hard. But she always says it back to her.

She is affectionate tho’ behind close doors.

She will cuddle with Arch like lovers would. She will hide her face in the crook of Ange’s neck when she is laughing or flustered by her. She will lean on Cyrus while hiding her mouth behind her hands when she laughs hard, fall on his lap or slip behind his back so she can brush and braid his hair. She lets Liv fall asleep in between her legs, and let her fingers slip in her hair while reading. And she will naturally hug her brother from behind, sit on his lap and softly bit his shoulder to then go back to what she was doing like nothing happened.

Right now I’m thinking of her relationship with Ronan so I’ll mention it. She loves that he loves Ange and Tisha as much as she does if not more. She loves that he is one of her twin’s closest friends. She loves his talent and passion and is comfortable enough to drink with him and share a cigarette he started and that she’d finish, let her head fall on his shoulder and giggle like an idiot. She is happy that he’s her friend.

I have to talk about Helena too. Helena who fascinates her. With her artistry, her strength, her everything. She knows, that she doesn’t need anyone’s protection. But you can bet that she’ll murder for her.

She loves Noah extravagance, she has a thing for prideful people, it’s entertaining and makes her laugh and he makes her laugh. She feels comfortable with him and can be vulnerable in his presence when she’s tired. Just like Damjan who she’d trade for no one in the world.

Arria loves in a very teasing way. She’ll throw jabs and will bicker with you. All the time. She will be a smartass. But she’ll do anything for the ones she loves too. Going from singing if you ask her, to killing if it comes to it. Arria ultimately falls into the category of show don’t tell, in the smallest and biggest ways. Her love is hot and intense, playful and selfless. She’ll give, always and maybe subtly, without asking for anything in return.

Aaron, is more comfortable with saying it than his sister. With some people more than others. With Ange for example, he doesn’t say it much, because she doesn’t either. Or he does so, when he is sleep-deprived and she brings him a cup of coffee. Mumbling it in his mother tongue as he takes a sip, his hand lingering on hers to convey it.

He likes saying it to Cyrus in a sarcastic or teasing manner. To rile him up a bit while always meaning it.

To Arch with a sigh while he falls in his arms because he’s Arch and he just loves him.

To Ronan while they’re composing, exhausted like never and yet still laughing. He’ll say it between two fits of it, as he gives him a cigarette, eyes sparkling softly with shared mischief.

Liv a little less, because like Ange she doesn’t really say it but man he would do anything for her. And to Arria, he always says it back, since she usually beats him to it and makes his heart feel warm and ache a little because he loves her so much.

The way he loves is, hard to describe. He loves a little possessively, but not really. He doesn’t consider people as his property, never. But he likes keeping them close and feel like he can protect them even when they don’t need to be. It’s just who he is, especially with his past trauma.

He loves people gently, casually, and it shows in his gestures.

In the way he’d come up behind Arria while she’s working on lyrics or texts, and tie her hair up without her asking him to. Just so she wouldn’t have to huff on the strands falling on her eyes anymore. It shows with the fact that he always has a book he got at the library sitting on his shelves, that he thinks Ange or Cyrus would like if they come over. Or how he bought a couch just for Ronan in his music studio, so he could sleep on it when they work overnight. He always burns that incense Liv loves when she comes over and commands Arch’s fave snacks while selecting hours prior to, a list of movies they can watch together and nerd out on. And he always buys every little thing that reminds him of Helena to gift it to her as soon as he gets them. Getting excited about it like a child would. Oh, he also always make sure Minjun eats and goes back home rather than living in his music studio, and always massages Latisha when she comes groaning to his place after her training.

He only falls in love when he connects with people. Intellectually mostly, but more than that if he isn’t scared of showing his darker flaws. He sometimes wonders if he loves his best friends in a romantic way. But he is content with the affection they are willing to give him already, so he bows and yields to the ones he thinks would make them happy.

His arms will always be open to his loved ones. Most of the time letting them take the initiative to not overstep boundaries. His hugs are warm, and Arria and Liv would say that they sometimes get a little choked up because it feels like finally being home after ages of being nostalgic about it.

He loves to draw the Zakharines and Cyrus a lot. Ange is so far the only one who ever saw his canvas related to his years in the army and aphantasia.

He likes writing songs about Arria and Ronan who baffles him for the latest since he won’t realize they were for him, unless he spells it out or name them “For Ronan”. He indulges Latisha and always agrees to dance with her and Arria, just to see her beam and hear her laugh. He’ll always agree to follow Liv and Helena for their art expeditions or photoshoot sessions, helping Helena at playing paparazzi on their friend.

He likes to give and is always surprised when he receives back.

A little awkward sometimes, a little teasing, he loves a little too hard he thinks. He’s scared of going overboard. But really, his love is like coming back home after a while, far away.

Liv, is like Arria, not much of a tell, much more of a show. The only persons she probably said “I love you” to are her little sister Roksana before they grew apart, and Helena. She loves the ones close to her a lot though and is willing to do and sacrifice much for them, if not fall on the sword in their stead.

She likes to show to the people she loves that she does, by doing, creating things on which she’d spend hours and hours working on to spoil them. Helena, Noah and Arria are her favorites models (she creates clothing for all the little band tho). She has endless sketches turned into creations that she showers them with.

She painted murals in Aaron’s room and has sketchbooks and canvas all inspired by him that he cherishes like his most precious treasures. She also actively tries to change his wardrobe.

Livia has a repulsion for other’s people touch in general. Unless she really is comfortable with you.

She lets Noah pull her on his lap, his chin laying on the top of her head or on her shoulder as he talks to others or her, playing with her fingers. She seeks contact with Helena. Let it be having her best friend’s legs across her laps when they’re on a couch, holding one of her fingers with hers or having her in between her legs as she draws arabesques with her fingertips on her skin while they’re listening to music. She likes to fall asleep in the twins' arms when they’re chilling at her or their place. She feels at home in Aaron’s arms and likes when he swoops her up for hugs. She feels protected when Arria pulls her against her when they’re in the middle of a crowd, glaring at the people who’d bump into her like she could go feral on them at any wrong move.

She is comfortable enough around their other friends to laugh openly, put a hand on their arm or shoulder, and even hug them to make them feel welcome. She always has their favorite drink or snack in her home or shop.

She trusts Ange the most, besides the four I mentioned earlier. She trusts her with all of their friends, and she trusts her to the point where if she asked her to close her eyes and have faith in her, she would.

She has a lot of affection for Arch and Ronan. She sometimes sees a little of herself in them and wants to hug them. She likes to spoil them with little things they like when she meets up with the two men just to see them smile or smirk.

She doesn’t talk much to Cyrus. But she knows he means a lot to Arria, and she means a lot to him. She’d lie, yeah, even fall on the sword for him too.

Her family is not really one. She found that in them. And can grow a little obsessive with wanting them safe and happy. She is very soft, very sweet when you know her, but could turn very dark, maybe a little ruthless, if harm is done to her loved ones. She is aware of her friends’ backgrounds and flaws. She knows too that they’re all a little fucked up in their own way. But she embraces it. And would help every single one of them to cover up a murder if it comes to it.

Livia loves with all of her being. Even if she never fell for someone in a romantic way so far. She never judges, and always kind of know how people feel since she is observant, and thus discreetly tries to help them without outright making it obvious. She is good at it.

Liv loves silently, but purely. It makes her quite vulnerable. But she knows that she can be with her tight circle. She put a lot of trust in her way of loving people. Where most of the time she’d rather stay back, in the shadows, loving them makes her brave and gives her strength and makes her shine.

Tisha, has no problems saying the words “I love you”, though she does not say it that often and only when she means it.

She always says it to her mother, used to, to her father. She often says it teasingly to the others. Like Arria, to see her reactions and hear her grunt or throw a jab at her. She says it often to Ronan. Casually and playfully most of the time. Seriously the others. Because she really does and he deserves to hear it.

Latisha’s love is warm even though it feels like playing with fire sometimes. But it never burns, just tingles. She loves fiercely, and a little blindly due to her strong sense of loyalty. Like that time when the break in Arria and Cyrus’ friendship happened, and where she took her best friend side, cursing the other, bitter for a while without really knowing his side of the story.

Talking about him, she loves in a tough way sometimes too. And it’s the case with Cyrus. She’ll say loud and clear that he’s insufferable and a little shit. She means it. But she has a lot of affection for him too. She’ll make him lose his temper, poke all his sore spots just to rile him up like never before to then laugh in his face. And yet, she’ll be the first to defend him fiercely while baring her teeth. Because he’s her friend, and she loves him, and he loves Arria.

Her best friend, her family. If you’d ask the Asian woman, she’d say that no one loves others like Latisha does and that the ballerina is probably one of the people who love her the most. And when Latisha loves you like she loves Arria, it’s in such a pure, selfless and powerful way that you don’t even know if you could ever do enough to give back to her what she gives. And Tisha loves all of their little band just like that.

She is the kind of person who becomes a rock, a foundation when everything is wrecked and precarious in your life. The kind that keeps you grounded, in touch with reality, saying things like they are, and always there to support you even when you are in the wrong. Guiding you on a better path.

Romantically, Latisha rarely falls in love. But when she does, it’s hard and in all the senses of the term. She did with her two longterm relationships, and she did with Ronan as well (depends on which universe lol), even if she realized she had after he confessed to her and she didn’t understand that he did. Running to his place after she screamed at him on the phone to not move, and returning his feelings in the middle of his hallway rather than in his flat, drama queen that she is like he told her while chuckling.

 I could arguably say that pretty much all of them would do anything for the ones they love. Truly. But Latisha is compared to the three that came before her, the less violent or twisted. And in a way, that fact makes it all the more powerful, that she would not hesitate and point a gun at anyone being a danger to her loved ones, and fire it.

Her love is like a gush of fresh air. Light, warm, and that makes you laugh, chuckle while sometimes rolling your eyes. It’s a love you can rely on, no matter what even in the darkest of times. Latisha’s love feels like going on a thrilling (and maybe a little dangerous) adventure with your best friend.

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 9

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 7.2K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which a diamond is a girl’s best friend.

You can find the first/previous chapter and AO3 links in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

Chapter warning: There is a fairly in-depth depiction of a dissociative flashback. Nothing I'd consider particularly extreme or deserving of a ratings bump, but I figured it'd be courteous to make a specific warning for it anyways.

_

Chapter 9: Symmetry 

On literally any other day, folding laundry would be relaxing.

There’s something comforting about falling back into predictable rhythms, hands running on automatic through assorted piles of clothes as her thoughts take a wandering vacation. Chores are boring, sure, but compared to the non-stop drive of the rest of her life Connie can at least appreciate how mindless they are. In a world filled with things like honors algebra and violin recitals and sword training, falling into the arms of subconscious repetition every once in a while feels nice, like a much needed mental break from the rest of reality.

The only problem is exactly that: it’s mindless. It doesn’t force her to use an ounce of brainpower. It doesn’t block her thoughts from waltzing down dark alleyways, or taking sharp swerves into territory unknown. It doesn’t distract her from obsessively checking her phone every other minute to see if she’s gotten any new calls or texts.

It doesn’t stop her from worrying about Steven.

Normally steady fingers twitch as she folds a sock inside its proper pair. Her pocket nearly feels like it’s burning. Groaning, she tosses the pair into her suitcase and pulls her phone out. The lock screen illuminates, showcasing a photo of a pretty sunset she took from the hill above the temple. Her mouth tightens. Once again, nothing. Giving in to the distraction, she unlocks her phone and taps to reach his latest message. Tired eyes gloss over his photo and those words for the thousandth time.

Accidentally got separated from gem—

I’ll call later, some kinda scary stuff happened—

Please don’t worry too much.

Well, too late for that. She’s not fooled by his blasé, chipper attitude in this text, or the forced grin of the concerningly pale-faced Steven (one of two! How can he claim he’s fine when he’s literally lost a part of himself??) at the forefront of the photo he sent. No, no. She won’t be convinced until she audibly hears it or can throw her arms around him in person, which is harder said than done when he hasn’t returned her calls and Mom won’t let her take the bus over to his place for the morning because she’s supposed to be “packing.” Ugh. As far as she’s concerned, visiting extended family in India can wait its turn. Something terribly wrong must have happened in Beach City last night, and the suspense of not knowing is nearly suffocating her.

But logically, she knows worrying about it nonstop won’t be of help to her or Steven. He’ll call when he calls. She just hopes it’s before she leaves the country. Her dad's a bit of a tightwad when it comes to the idea of upgrading to international call and text, to her chagrin. If she’s honest, it’s the one part of this trip she dreads— having zero contact with her best friend for a week.

Connie hastily breathes in and out, attempting to forcefully will the stress to dissipate. Let it go. Stop thinking about it. She gently tosses her phone on her bed where she can’t reach it, and pushes herself back into the dependable rhythm of laundry folding.

Licking her chapped lips as she works through the pile of newly clean clothes, she folds the turquoise colored silk choli bodice her mom arranged for a relative to hand weave for her on her last birthday and carefully places it with its matching saree. The decorative border running the length of the saree is embroidered with little flowers and swirls in gold thread. Connie smiles faintly, reverently running her hand across the smooth fabric. She’ll be wearing her typical shorts, overalls, and blouses for most of this trip, but she’s super excited to have the perfect excuse to bring this outfit out of her closet for once. It always makes her feel beautiful, with her hair pinned back and the saree draped around her, but she still can’t help but fear she’s ridiculously overdressed whenever she wears it anywhere outside of family events. A shame. Maybe she’ll build the courage to wear it one day when she goes to Steven’s house for sword practice. She’ll change into her usual training clothes during the practice itself, of course— she can’t risk tearing silk or restricting her movement— but it’d be cool to share a piece of her own family’s culture with him like that. Her cheeks heat up as she imagines his reaction. He’ll probably think it’s pretty. Pearl, too. Her teacher definitely has a flair for artistry, after all.

...but of course, that’s assuming Steven and the Gems are okay.

Her previously giddy thoughts wane like a withering petal. Sitting with her legs criss crossed on her bedroom floor, she hunches over with a heavy sigh, propping her chin into her hands. How long is this morning going to last?

Muffled amidst the cocoon of thick blankets adorning her bed, her phone’s ringer picks that very moment to blare into existence. Her nerves electrify in an instant, though whether that’s more a symptom of surprise or anticipation is anyone’s guess. Chest pounding, she shoots to her feet and scrambles across the room to pick it up. She sighs a breath of relief as her eyes skim over the caller ID. It’s him. And he wants to video chat! Without thinking twice she jabs her thumb against the screen to answer.

A handful of seconds pass as her phone attempts to connect over her family’s spotty wi-fi, heart twisting painfully in her throat as she steels herself for whatever potentially bad update about her friend’s life she’s about to receive, but then—

The video pushes through, and her friend appears on the screen. His hair is notably mussed, (more so than usual, that is), with wild curly locks sticking up from his head at weird angles.

“Mornin’, Connie,” he says, exhaustion evident on his face but besides that, appearing physically well. There’s actually color in his cheeks for one thing, unlike in the photo he sent before dawn.

“Steven!” she exclaims, subconsciously gripping the sides of her phone tighter in the absence of an actual hug. “You’re okay!”

“More or less,” he says in confirmation, the corner of his mouth turning up for a glimmer of a second. His expression quickly becomes tinted in shades of remorse, however, his voice on the brink of cracking. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call back earlier! My phone died on me, and then I forgot to plug it in, and then I got distracted by a bunch of crazy family stuff, and that’s probably not a good excuse, but—“

She tries to feed him a reassuring smile, pushing down the blatant depth of her worry for his sake.

“Hey, don’t fuss about it. It happens. And anyways, you’re here now, right? So all that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Her friend deals her a noncommittal shrug in response, and slouches against the rough hewn stone she’s only now noticing in the background. If she has to guess, he’s sitting on the beach, leaning against the sheer cliff walls where they first met almost two years earlier. Interesting, she muses, her brow furrowing. Usually when they do video calls Steven makes a point to stay in his house because he gets better reception there. On top of that, there’s an undeniable melancholy brewing within his eyes that would be amiss to ignore. He’s not even trying to mask it for once, which speaks volumes in and of itself about how heavy a burden it’s become, whatever it is that’s bothering him. Geeze, what on Earth happened over there last night?

“So, your gem,” she starts, edging towards the topic carefully. “Are you still—?”

He shakes his head, seemingly already catching on to what she’s gonna ask. “Nah, we’re together again! Turns out I can still fuse even without without him.”

“Hmm, I—“ Connie pauses, mind fixating for a second on the specific way he referred to his gem half, ascribing an undeniable sense of individuality to him— “well, I’m super glad you figured that out. But I still don’t understand, how can you get separated from your gem in the first place?”

“It’s, uh- a pretty complicated story, fair warning.”

“Pshhh, that’s no problem, I’ve got all morning,” she says, and props her phone against her bedpost so she can continue packing while listening. Freed once more, her hands seek out more unpaired socks to join.

“Only if you’re good with it, then.” The boy sighs deeply as he begins to prepare his words. The infamous drama zone kicking in, he lets his head lull backwards at gravity’s command against the cliffside’s face. She can’t help but cringe at the audible smack of his skull against smooth rock. “Ow!” he whines, immediately jerking forwards again. He rubs the back of his head in clear disbelief, softly laughing at his own folly. “Well, that was a pretty dumb idea.”

“Not gonna disagree,” she says with a giggle, glancing between her clothes and the screen in intervals as she folds. “Now, tell me everything. From the beginning. I still gotta pack, but I’m listening, I promise.”

A soft smile brightens his face, sunlight glinting off his dark brown irises. It’s enough to capture her stare, to make everything else in the world freeze to a stop. Just for one magic moment. Her heart almost flip flops at the gentle way he gazes at her, his eyes filled with a shy reverence that honestly, speaks volumes to his nature as a person. Because while he’s grown undeniably strong as a half-Gem, he’s far more than that. He's kind. He’s sensitive, and caring. So, so caring. More than anything else he tries his hardest to be extra empathetic about the needs of others around him, and she adores this about him, she truly does. Her only wish is that he could be this receptive about his own needs all the time, too. With her firsthand knowledge of the stressful stuff he and the other Gems deal with on a weekly basis, she can’t help but worry sometimes.

He breathes in, chest rising and falling as he prepares to tell his story. “Okay. So it all started yesterday morning when I was playing video games with the Gems…”

______

“—and then that’s when I figured out I could still fuse, right after I texted you. So we did, and- and well, that’s pretty much it,” Steven finishes with a bit of a waver in his voice, absentmindedly twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck as he adjusts his grip on the phone with his other hand.

With his story more or less complete, barring a few recent occurrences he’s hesitant to speak of right now, he pays careful attention to the minute fluctuations of Connie’s expression as everything he’s told her sinks in.

(He intentionally left out some of the more intimate bits, of course— like softly crying himself to sleep before Dad warped back, or having a near breakdown on the beach, or his conversation with half of himself. Some moments simply aren’t for others to know.)

Her voice wavers as she finally makes to respond. “Wow, that’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. And like, I wanna believe it’s over now, but everyone’s still acting so weird.”

“Mmm, and then there’s everything about your mom, and Pink Diamond…” She balls her hand against her mouth as she mulls over this information, her sobered glance shifting from him to some unspecified point in her bedroom.

And at seeing the subtle aversion of her gaze, he frets for a second. He squirms in the seat of the cold metal chair he’s made his temporary home in, toes curling inwards much like the creeping dread that’s trying to inch its way ever further into his heart, stifling any last hope of peace or calm. Replacing it with fear. Like, what if his real talk is too real? Too honest? What if he’s freaked her out, or overloaded her with the sheer weight of everything that’s happened to him, what if she’ll wanna keep her distance from him because of all this, what if—

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this,” she says softly, slashing the cord that’s restraining him within his frantic thoughts.

His shoulders relax, tension fading.

“I- is there anything I can do?” his friend continues. “To help, I mean?”

“Nah, don’t think so. Not right now, at least. Honestly, just having someone to talk to about all this means a lot.” He begins to slowly swing his legs back and forth, and leans against the coffee stained table top. “Normally I’d talk to one of the Gems, but. Well, y’know.”

His friend bobs her head in the affirmative. “Mmm.”

“It’s just…” he begins, pausing with a long sigh as he tries to organize all his jumbled emotions into something remotely explainable. His eyes drift away from his phone, focusing instead on the soft, tantalizing glow of the ice cream freezer across the shop. “I think I almost died, Connie. For real. I was shivering, a-and scared, and cracked, and- and yet they couldn’t stop fighting about whatever happened in the past. I don’t know anything about Pink Diamond, or what terrible things Rose apparently did, but now it’s like… even if they don’t mean to, that’s all they can think about when they look at me?”

Steven groans in exhaustion, slumping forward so the side of his face is pressed against the table. It’s comfy, never mind how dirty the surface probably is. He shifts his phone in his hands so Connie’s image is still parallel to him. “I dunno. I should’ve never popped that bubble in the first place. If I didn’t let Bismuth out, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Steven!” a loud voice calls from across the shop. “Are you gonna buy a donut or what?”

“Whu- huh??”

Startled, he shoots upright in the chair— knowing all too well from the faint thrum dancing under his skin that he’s on the brink of summoning his bubble on sheer impulse— before realizing that no, it’s only Lars, everything’s fine, I’m fine.

The surly teen is slumped against the counter next to Sadie, (who’s counting the money in the cash register on sheer compulsion, as if rifling through it one more time might cause the cash to magically multiply), both employees marinating in the boredom of yet another low traffic mid-September day at the Big Donut. He pauses to catch his breath, in retrospect feeling super silly for his near freak-out. His two favorite donut people have been here this whole time, of course. How he managed to become so sucked in by his call that he forgot is beyond him.

“Are you okay?” he hears Connie ask softly, obvious concern in her voice.

Lars on the other hand, apparently wasn’t finished calling him out.

“You can’t just- loiter here all morning and not buy anything!” he says. Brow threading together in perplexion, he whirls towards his coworker. “Right? Isn’t there a law for that? Sadie, help me out here-!”

She rolls her eyes so far they almost disappear back into her skull. “Oh, leave him alone, he’s fine...” “Yeah, I’m not loitering, I’m having a nice conversation with my friend!” he chimes, holding up his phone screen to them as proof.

“Hi Sadie, Lars,” Connie says.

The young lady behind the register smiles warmly despite the bags under her eyes, and pauses her task to wave to the camera.

Unimpressed, Lars leans his chin against his balled up fist, elbow propped on the counter. His tired eyes narrow into thin slits, exaggerated by the squish of his cheek against his bottom eyelid. “A ‘nice conversation?’ You’ve been sitting there for half an hour rambling about the misfortunes of near death,” he says, deadpan.

“I—“ His eyes grow wide as he combs back through the— now that he thinks about it— admittedly dour mood of everything he’s recently said. “Is that really what it sounded like...?”

Is he just being a killjoy to everyone? He thought it’d be okay to be real about it with his friend for once, since he usually keeps his deeper issues to himself, but perhaps...

“No, just ignore him,” Sadie says as she diligently sorts the coins, cutting in right before his mind can continue its downward spiral.

On the screen, Connie nods in wholehearted support. “It’s just venting, I don’t mind.”

And despite everything else he manages a smile at that, small and thin but filling him with a needed burst of energy all on its own.

“Huh,” Lars mutters, scrutinizing him closely. “Well, whatever it was, dark and brooding is a surprisingly good vibe for you. We’ll make a teenager of you yet.”

Steven blinks in confusion.

“But I already am a teenager,” he says, perhaps a bit more defensively than he ought have.

“Yeah!” chimes his friend over the phone.

“Wait, really? Aren’t you like, nine or somethin’?”

He squirms in his seat upon reference to his inability to physically age, feeling the flush touch his ears. “Uh, actually…”

“Dude, he’s been a teenager,” Sadie says. She stuffs the last of the quarters in their slot and securely shuts the cash register drawer. “He turned fourteen a few weeks ago, don’t you remember?”

“N- no… I just—“ Lars lets out a scoff, shooting her a moody sneer. “Whatever, okay? I don’t have the time or the patience to remember everyone’s birthdays in this dead-end town.”

“Only twenty-nine people even live here year round.”

“So? Your point is?”

“My point is that it’s kinda common courtesy to look up and pay attention to your surroundings every once in a while?”

He turns up his nose. “Ugh, well you know what—“

Steven purses his lips as he watches the two of them devolve into yet another round of petty squabbling. (Why all of these fights lately…? What’s wrong with everyone, what’s in the air?) Suddenly feeling very much like high tailing it out of here, he shifts in his seat. He and Connie share a knowing glance, one that quickly lets him knows they’re on the same page. Originally, he came here to use the store wi-fi since he didn’t want to be at home right now, but he can probably still use it just fine sitting at the table outside. Without any overt announcement of the fact, he stands and makes his way to the door. Lars and Sadie are too caught up in their spat to notice him leave.

Only when the cool breeze greets him outside can he relax. He kicks back in one of the chairs set out front of the store, adjusting his phone in his hand. Gulls call loudly from the boardwalk in their endless search for trashed food. A handful of people he doesn’t recognize— tourists!— splash in the water or play in the sand, a pair of young men holding hands as they cross the public beach. Sunlight is finally breaking through the cloud cover, brilliant blue overtaking dreary grey. He smiles faintly. Despite everything, it truly is a beautiful morning.

“Sorry about all that!” he says to his friend on the line, glancing back at the doors of the Big Donut. “They really are cool people when you got to know ‘em, but they kinda disagree about stuff a lot.”

Connie stifles a laugh, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I know you keep saying they’re probably dating, but I honestly don’t believe you.”

His skin grows clammy all of a sudden.

Don’t… believe...

He's frozen. It’s almost like he’s with Sapphire, trapped again in that old motel room shivering amidst her frost powers. And yet simultaneously he’s not, ‘cause… because he’s burning up, hand clutching at thin air. He’s terrified. He’s completely alone, he’s—

He’s back in the forge.

Bismuth’s there, looming like a reaper above him, arm shapeshifted into some sort of curved saw blade and held aloft. Thick, viscous lava boils angrily in the pool surrounding the platform he’s on, and more than anything it’s a warning, a constant warning, and he’s stupid, he’s so unobservant and stupid, he should have paid heed to it when he came down here in the first place, why didn’t he—

Heat blasts almost violently at him as he shuffles away on hands and feet, scooting backwards on the blistering stone. He heaves for breath amidst his panic. Meanwhile, the channels of hard light running parallel with his veins buzz alongside the rush of adrenaline keeping him alive. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticky and unnaturally cool.

No matter how hard he tries, he’s too weak against her. His shield isn’t strong enough.

He knows this for a fact now, knows that Bismuth can dissipate both it and his bubble with enough force, and that’s a super scary thought but it doesn’t stop the primal instinct pulsing insistently at the back of his mind, pushing him to stand back up, to summon his weapon anyways and try to defend himself. It’s nothing but a lost cause, though.

Now, his only true shield is his words.

“Wait, I’m not my mom!” he cries in desperation, shielding himself with his arms. “I don’t know what she did, but I’m sure she didn’t want to hurt you!”

The stark shadow obscuring the rainbow haired Gem’s eyes grows darker.

“It’s too late,” she spits, preparing to swing her arm down. “I don’t believe you anymore!”

And then with a shallow gasp he’s here again, here at this dingy plastic table sitting under the bright and blue hope of morning, his phone clutched in a vice-like grip. Breath passes through his lips shakily. What the heck was that?? Was his gem feeding him old memories like what happened in his sleep, or something? Whatever it was, he’s genuinely not sure how much time has passed during the vision, a realization which unnerves him. Seemingly not too long, as Connie hasn’t moved to speak yet. Yet still her too-familiar words echo in his mind, pulsing with the thrum of inflamed blood vessels at an open wound, and without the blessing of inhibition he blurts out the first thought that reveals itself.

“That’s fair,” he says, voice cracking. “I probably wouldn’t believe me about a lot of things right now.”

Her brow creases with obvious concern. “Hey... Hey, I didn’t mean that personally. I was just messing around with ya’. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I just feel... really on edge.” Jittery fingers card through thick curls as his chest softly rumbles in the absurdity of it all. “Geeze, I’m being a real sad sack today, huh?”

“Well, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but to be fair ‘near death scenarios’ are pretty much just an occupational hazard at this point. And I’ve handled that fine before, so…”

“Still doesn’t erase the fact that it’s impacted you hard this time,” she says softly, leveling her gaze squarely on him, her intuitive brown eyes disassembling his insecurities and then putting them back together like a puzzle.

He flushes, shrinking where he sits. He pulls his legs up onto the seat, clutching them to his chest. Intuitively he knows she’s right, he knows that all this has messed with him more than the danger of Gem stuff normally does, but he still can’t help but feel… ashamed? That he’s feeling this way in the first place? It’s bizarre. It’s completely dumb, and the more he fixates on it the more dumb it becomes. Eventually he decides he’s not in the right mental state to try and weave a halfway rational response to her and elects to swerve the topic.

“So there’s also another not-great thing that happened,” he begins, hugging his knees. “Should probably mention.”

“Yeah…?”

“Garnet unfused over all this. Maybe for good this time.”

She gasps, and in an instant her face shoots closer on his screen.

“Wait what? She- you mean that Ruby and Sapphire aren’t—“

“Yup.”

Connie covers her mouth in shock, eyes glistening. “Oh, no! Steven, I’m so sorry! And you don’t think they’ll be able to work it out?”

“No, they made it seem pretty permanent.”

“That’s… really rough,” she sighs in solidarity. “‘Cause I mean, at least since it’s fusion she’s still there in spirit, but- you grew up knowing Garnet.”

“Exactly,” he nods. “I love Ruby and Sapphire a whole bunch, but it’s still different, y’know? Like, it’s like I lost someone important to me. Maybe forever. And... it feels so awful,” he says, pushing past the lump in his throat that he wishes more than anything would go away. “All of it. It’s like everyone in my family’s falling apart. The moment she unfused, Sapphire immediately shut herself in her room, and then Ruby was so upset she ran away, and Amethyst and Pearl started yelling at each other about everything, so… I left. And called you,” he explains, gesturing at her. “And now I’m here, chillin’ at the Big Donut. And that’s pretty much it.”

“Gosh...”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. I mean, outright getting cleaved from half of yourself? I can’t even imagine…” She bites at her knuckles for a moment, deep in thought. “Makes me wish I had more than sympathy to offer.”

“Nah, just you listening to everything means a whole bunch. I really appreciate that,” he says. “I—“ his voice wavers a bit as he feels the heat of the blush blossoming across his cheeks— “I really appreciate you. A lot. You- you know that, don't you?”

She giggles, the sound a beautiful reassurance to his ears. “Of course I do! And anyways, you always take time to listen to me when I’m down. That’s what jam buds are for, right?”

“Right,” he says, the word reverberating in harmony in the deepest reaches of his heart.

“Steven!” a voice calls from the distance.

Connie’s brow furrows. “Is that…?”

He whips his head around, squinting in the sunlight to catch a clearer glimpse of the figure running towards the edge of the Big Donut’s patio, his long hair rippling behind him. At the sight of family, his eyes light up. He waves his free arm in greeting.

“Dad!”

“Hey, kiddo!” his dad says, crossing the last few steps to the patio chair he’s curled up in. Gasping for breath, he plops himself in the chair adjacent. “I thought I’d find you here. You doin’ better now?”

He makes a half grimace, and shakes his flattened hand in a so-so gesture.

Dad’s hopeful smile fades, quickly replaced with a compassionate sense of understanding that could only come from years of hard earned age and experience. “Yeah. Yeah, I getcha. Seeing people you love fight like that’s never fun. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He presses his mouth into a line as he contemplates. To be honest, after venting about everything to Connie, fixating on negative emotions more is the last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t wanna be rude to his dad. Thank goodness he has a valid excuse to avoid it altogether!

“Uh, I’m kinda on the phone, here,” he says, showing him his phone screen as proof.

“Oh, by golly, so you are! Hey, Connie. How are you hangin’ in there?”

She flashes a smile. “Hi, Mr. Universe! I’m okay, thanks.”

“Heh, Mr. Universe, huh?” he chuckles softly, scratching at his beard. “Such formalities! You’ve known me for what, how long? Please, you can call me Greg.”

“Thanks, but my mom says I’m not allowed to call grown ups by their first names.”

“Dr. Maheswaran has all sorts of weird mom rules,” Steven chimes in, nodding.

“Hoo boy, do I know about those,” his dad commiserates in a flat tone. He makes a big show out of mulling this over, humming as he taps at his chin. “Well then, don’t think of me as a grown up, but more of a big kid with, erm… slightly bigger responsibilities.”

“Uh, okay!” Connie says, hesitantly glancing between him and Steven. “If it’s alright with you, then, Mr. Greg!”

Dad‘s mouth turns up in a fond smirk, and then he glances back at him. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know that the Gems have cooled down. I had… a bit of a talk with them, let’s say,” he mutters, clear exhaustion betraying his otherwise content demeanor. “Should be fine to go back when you’re ready.”

“Did Ruby return??”

“Nah, she’s still MIA. But Pearl and Amethyst are on the case.”

He sighs, disappointment flooding his heart. He’s not sure why he ever dreamed otherwise. She’ll come back eventually, of course. She’s gotta. According to Garnet, Rubies are very social Gems, which means they prefer sharing in the company of others over being alone. And even when she’s not fused with Sapphire, she’s still a part of his family. He dearly hopes she knows that.

“I hope her and Sapphire will be okay,” he mutters.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine in the end,” he says with a shrug. “They’ve come apart before, after all.”

Connie hums in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes even my parents need some quiet time away from each other. That’s totally normal!”

Dropping his legs to dangle from the chair again, Steven watches an orange spotted butterfly flutter between the beach umbrellas set up on the patio tables, meeting with its other half before both journeying away in the wind. His cheeks lift at their attempts at reassurance, and boy, does it feel so much more natural than frowning pensively.

“D’ya really think so?”

Smiling softly, his dad affectionately musses his hair. “All we can do is wait and see, bud. Wait and see.” He stands to his feet then, grunting as he uses the table’s surface to help push him up. Gaze growing somewhat weary, he peers with purpose towards the far side of the hill. “Anyways, your old man will be over at the car wash, scrubbing soap scum off the floors. Eughh, right? But hey, if you need anything… a hug, an ear, some classic fatherly advice… come and find me, okay? Take it easy this morning.” Grinning, he turns back to wave goodbye to the girl mirrored on the screen. “Nice seeing ‘ya, Connie. Take care.”

“You too!” she waves in return.

And with that farewell his dad begins his casual jaunt down the sidewalk, leaving the two of them alone once more. Except, he supposes that’s not true at all, is it? Even without Connie, even without Dad, or the Gems. Because if he can take away one good thing from this whole messed up experience, just one hopeful message, it’s that he’s never been alone a day of his life. That’s simply the nature of fusion, you see. Even in the darkest, scariest moments...

I’ve never actually been alone, he marvels. I’ve just been me.

______

Once Steven’s dad leaves to scrub down the floors at his car wash, their conversation evolves considerably from its bleak beginnings. Enough about all this Gem stuff, Steven says, what’s new with you? Besides, uh- folding underwear, of course!

Connie laughs, rolling her eyes at the visible blush on his face as she pushes the aforementioned undergarments out of frame. She eagerly shares some of the finer details of her India trip, telling him all about when she’s leaving for the airport, (late this evening, on a red-eye flight across the Atlantic), what area of the country she’s visiting, (Punjab, where some of her extended family lives), and how long she’ll be gone (just a week!). From there, the topic shifts between a variety of themes, ranging anywhere from her anxiety and excitement at starting school again when she gets back, the pride of finally figuring out a challenging song she’s wanted to perfect for a while on her violin, to this super compelling Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic she found where Lisa discovers she’s secretly heir to the throne of the corrupt society she’s always been vying to escape from underneath the authoritative thumb of.

“Wow, this is the story I never knew I always needed so badly in my entire life,” Steven says, brown irises turning starry-eyed in the sunlight. He’s sitting atop the hill now, resting content on his belly in the grass in front of the lighthouse.

“I know, right?? I’ll send you the link,” she promises, dangling her feet in the air behind her as she lays on the carpet.

He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly. “Woo, free infinite books!”

“Well, keep in mind, it’s not finished yet. Apparently it’s supposed to update bi-weekly, but I think the author got a bit boggled down by life stuff recently.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hope they’re doin’ okay.”

“Same… But hey,” she says with a soft laugh, “at least it’s a long fic, right?”

“Y’know,” he interjects the current topic suddenly, rising to his knees. “I wonder if I can see your house from here! D’ya think that’s possible, ‘cause I wanna see if that’s possible!”

He switches his camera’s view from front to back, the image of his face replaced by the scenic vista of the cozy beach town below, ridged by the peaceful waters of the Atlantic and Rehoboth Bay. She can see everything, from the gigantic pastry shaped facade atop the Big Donut, to the water tower clear on the other side of the peninsula. Beyond, lush green grasslands— dotted with clusters of small residences, humanity’s touch on the Earth— stretch as far into the horizon as far as a young dreamer can imagine.

Connie picks up her phone from the bedpost she leaned it against and squints at the screen, trying to map out the precise scale of the countryside between them in her mind. “Hmm, probably not. I think my town’s pretty hidden by the surrounding hills.”

“No silly, not from right here, here! I meant, from up here!”

She yelps as the view of Beach City on her phone screen jolts in a burst of sudden, rapid movement, shrinking smaller and smaller as the seconds tick by.

“Steven!! What are you—“

But internally, she finds the answer to this question before she can even finish asking it. Clearly, he jumped into the sky, so… so he’s using his floating ability. Even though she’s never seen him utilize it to leap to this extreme, it’s the only possibility that makes any ounce of sense. Her mouth falls agape at the picturesque view below, the town beginning to looking more and more like a blurred watercolor painting. Distantly, she wonders what it would feel like to be up there with him, her hands clutched tight in his, the wind dancing through her long hair.

"Consarn it! Your house is too small to pick out. Hmm..."

Or even as Stevonnie, can they float too? she wonders. Maybe one day she can ask!

“Oh my gosh, this is just like I’m on the giant slingshot they used to have at Funland,” she says, averting her eyes as her best friend continues his ascent into the shimmering blue sky. She lets slip a slight grimace, finding the stark contrast between the movement on the screen and the still permanence of her bedroom dizzying the more she watches. “And I’m starting to think there’s a reason they shut that ride down…”

“Hey, my floating powers are way better than The Comet,” he chirps playfully, having finally reached the apex of his leap. “Hah, maybe that means I should start my own attraction at Funland!”

“Doing what?” she says, unable to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the very concept. “Bubbling people on the tracks of the rollercoaster like the day we first met? I’m pretty confident that’d be a major health and safety violation.”

“Aww, but those are the best kinds of attractions!”

She hears him grunt with minor exertion, and suddenly the aerial glimpse of the countryside she’s watching on her phone drops out of sight, replaced in an instant with a sweeping panorama of the boundless sky, the line of the horizon with the sea, the ground looming ominously hundreds of feet below. Rinse and repeat, over and over. Everything is spinning, she realizes in alarm, and there’s no end in sight.

“Whoa-oH, it’s the Stevencoaster!” he cries in childish glee as he somersaults.

His lighthearted joy is so contagious she can’t stop the grin stretching wide across her face.

“Careful, you doofus, you’re gonna make me motion sick and I’m not even there,” she giggles breathlessly.

“Nooo! And the Stevencoaster makes everyone toss their cookies! Words truly cannot describe the culinary carnage left in its wake.”

She rolls her eyes in fondness at his antics, and sits up on her carpet. “No, but seriously,” she reaffirms, “that’s making me pretty dizzy.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Soon enough she watches him level out from his spin, his camera focusing for a moment on the ground a hundred feet below his sandaled feet before flipping to show his face once more, framed by wild dark curls. His irises are shimmering an unnatural pink she’s never seen before. It's enough of an unexpected shock that her smile fades, ever so slightly.

“Better?” he says, beaming at her as he continues on his slow descent to Earth.

They’re still pink. And his pupils… She’s not just imagining it, right? She blinks heavily.

“Y- yes, much.”

“Connie? What’s wrong?” he asks, landing upon the grass. His brow furrows.

Even more notably, his eyes are just as normal and brown as they ever were. Connie balls her hand against her chin as she deliberates this. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

She shakes her head, silently mulling over how best to explain this. “Nothing, it’s just… I could’ve sworn your eyes were… different, for a second.”

“Different?” Steven‘s grin stretches so wide he looks like he’s about to burst at any moment. “Eye don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Well, if you become my pupil I could explain it to you,” she giggles.

“I’m listening,” he chimes eagerly.

“Okay, so honestly it could’ve just been a trick of the light, but… it’s almost like they flashed pink for a second. And your pupils were all funny, kind of, uh- slitted! Like a cat’s.”

“Pink?”

“Yeah.”

His face goes shockingly pale. “Connie, when was this?”

“Just a second ago,” she shrugs. “You were still floating.”

“Floating,” he repeats under his breath, seeming haunted by the very thought.

“Steven?” she calls, a sudden twist in her chest at the sight of his clear distress. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“I, I—“ he stammers, unable to even meet her glance. “I’m really sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll text you later?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks for calling—“

He hangs up.

“...back,” she finishes softly, shoulders sinking.

She sighs heavily, dropping her phone into her lap and sitting back against her bed frame. What did she say? What could be so scary about the idea of glowing pink eyes to make him react like that? Sure, it’s a bit strange, but it’s no more unusual than any of his other unique abilities. She only hopes she didn’t ruin his good mood all over again by bringing his attention to it.

Her mother knocks on the doorframe outside, signaling her presence.

“Come in,” she mutters glumly.

The door creaks open. Mom steps through, and leans against the wall with her arms crossed, glancing knowingly between her and the phone still clutched like a lifeline in her hands.

“Are you still worried about that boy?” she asks.

Connie can almost hear the capitalization inherent in her tone. 'That Boy.’ Even though she and Steven are just friends, she knows full well who her mother thinks he is to her. (Not that she’d complain if that were the case, but that’s simply not a thing with them, and really that’s fine, she’s fine, their status quo is comfortable how it is—)

“Yeah… I just got off the phone with him," she says, letting her head sink into the folds of the covers trailing off the side of her bed. "It sounds like he’s been through a lot lately.”

“Well, when a child spends all day fighting monsters instead of going to school like he’s supposed to, I can’t say I’m surprised,” her mom says under her breath.

“Mom, come on, this is serious!”

“Yes, sorry, you’re right,” she says wearily, pressing her hand to her temple. “Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean that it’s fair of me to say.”

She turns away, and hugs her knees to her chest. Like a storm on a late summer day, her mind brims with so many things she wishes she could admit, so many things that need to be released if she wants to find any peace about this. But how to start? How can she make her mother understand?

“I’ve really been looking forward to this trip, y’know?" Connie says, feeling oh-so vulnerable sitting on the floor just like she always would as a young child, eyes glistening as she calls upon her mother for support. "Really. And I know we gotta leave tonight, but just knowing he’s hurting and I won’t be able to text him at all makes part of me wish… that I could stay here."

Unable to dam it up anymore, a few tears spill over to roll unbridled down her cheek. Her chest quivers uncontrollably as her face screws up and she begins to cry.

"Oh, honey," she breathes, moving to kneel on the floor next to her. She rests her hand on her upper back, gently kneading the stress out of her tense muscles.

"He's always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to, o-or somethin' to feel better," she sniffles, wiping the damp from her eyes and nose. "A- and then- the moment he needs me, I can't be there for him at all, an' it's not fair!"

Upon seeing the trail of snot beginning to drip towards her upper lip, her mother grimaces. She reaches across her for the small square box perched atop her nightstand. "Tissue," she says firmly, passing her the box.  

She accepts the gift, pulling one out, and blows her nose hard.

As she's dabbing away, cleaning up the evidence of her tears, Mom's fingers shift to comb through the length of her hair. She twirls through long dark strands and pulls them out of her face. "Even if I don't get all this magic stuff you're both dealing with," she begins, voice brimming with compassion, "believe me, I understand more than most what it feels like to be cut off from the people you love. So... I’ll change your phone plan to international, how’s that? That way, at the very least you’ll still be able to contact him.”

Her eyes light up. “Wow, really?? But that’s super expensive!”

“Says your father,” she scoffs with soft laughter. “We can afford it. And anyways, I’d hate to see you miserable the whole trip.”

“That’ll be perfect!” she says, throwing her arms tight around her mother. And although she can’t see her face, Connie knows from the reassuring solidness of their embrace that every bit of the love she has for her is returned in full. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispers, her anxious heart finally finding a glimmer of peace.