Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Oh my god! Patricia?"

"Connie!"

And Connie will later be embarrassed about how she literally squealed in the halls like an annoying little girl as she ran toward to twirl Patricia around, but that's a problem for Future Connie. The Connie Of The Present gets to be happy about seeing an old friend, a familiar face bundled as always in a nest of plain sweaters and slightly oversized hijab.

"I can't believe we're floor buddies!"

"I know!" Patricia laughs from up in the air. "The odds, huh?"

"Too bad we couldn't have been roommates."

The other girl glances slyly from behind her glasses. "As if you won't be sneaking around at 3AM with one of your knives. No thanks!"

"You can't attack me like this. I am betrayed. Jail for Patricia. Jail for Patricia for a thousand years!"

"Nooo! "

Jail wasn't banishment, though, so Connie could still drag Patricia away to see her new dorm.

It's not quite like her old room- there was very strict no-outside-furniture policy, but she could still hang her old string lights, and decorate the new desk the way she did her old one.

"Uh," Patricia eyes the alien katar knife decorating the mantle of a cupboard, and the sword propped by the door. "Does RA know about those?"

"It's allowed on the barest technicality. The privileges of being on alien payroll."

"Wow, nice."

Connie waves it off, scrunching her nose. "Oh come on, it's not like you haven't snuck in anything, either."

"No, it's not as cool!"

"Sure it is!"

"...I did," Patricia finally admits, "sneak in some bean bag chairs."

Connie frowns. "Well now I'm just mad I didn't think of that first."

"Bags aren't furniture. They can't do anything." Patricia puffs her cheeks awkardly. "You don't think it's lame?"

"No, no! Being comfy isn't lame."

"Good, because I really liked the patterns on them."

They stand around for a bit, awkwardly admiring the dappled watery patterns of Connie's alien knife.

"Want to see my super fancy dorm-illegal nightmare toaster that Daniel made?" Patricia pipes up.

"Oh hell yeah, I do-"

Chapter Text

RA made the floor do an icebreaker. 20 odd girls clustered around the commons, clustered around the couches, the floor, the kitchen counters, the borderline illegally-smuggled bean bags.

Two girls share the couch chair like old friends- or maybe a pair of wise witches on their throne, waiting to impose the new world order.

Or maybe Connie should stop reading politically charged urban fantasy AU fanfiction at 11 PM. Then again, so should Patricia. Sleep deprived dumbasses, the both of them.

"Anyway," starts the taller, silver haired girl, "I'm hungover as all fuck, so lets do this shit. I'm Kathryn De Silva, your RA. Nonbinary femme, she/her, anthro major, end of fucking story. Smoking hot bod next to me," she drawls, pointing to a small, muscular girl who waves at the group with a wink, "is Mary-Ann Howlett. She's your other RA. There's two of us, so that way there's always somebody who can help. Howlett's got an auditory disorder, but she can talk, she can read lips, and she can read text. She's also super ripped and can throw people out the window if they start shit. That includes you."

Howlett continues in a very deliberate, articulated fashion. "For the next semester we are your gods. You have a dorm problem, we help fix it. You have a problem with other girls in the dorm, we help fix it. If you are a problem," she intones very sweetly," we fix that too."

De Silva picks up the conversation again. "Our rooms are right by the stairs. You have our numbers. We also advise you pick up a few numbers from your floormates as well. And uuuuhhh..." she stalls for a moment. "Oh yeah. While you're all together against your will, share your names or something with the class."

=<>=

"Romana Fennessy. Major undecided. I'm on the fencing team."

"Isn't that kind of ironic considering the name?"

The poor freckled girl suddenly freezes with realization. "Oh fuck, you're right." 

=<>=

"Estelle Jackson. No relation to Estelle."

=<>=

"Monroe Szebestény. You can just call me Destiny." She shrinks in on herself. "It's easier that way."

=<>=

"Bren... Lavore." Her eyes flit across the room as she starts to hug herself. "I'm... trans."

"Oh, was Bren your birthname?"

"Yeah, but I'm still keeping it. I like my name. That's not weird, right?"

A small chorus of no and not at all fills the room. Bren's smile is a little less anxious.

=<>=

"Rayleigh Chrysanthemum. Call me Chris. Call me Chrysanthemum if you want a free punch in the throat."

=<>=

"McAllister. Eira McAllister."

Everyone waits for a beat. She doesn't add anything else.

=<>=

"Josephine Fitzgibbins. Jo Fitz is fine. I'm a bartender."

=<>=

"Peggy Samson. I was named after Peggy Carter."

"Oh my god, that's so cool, I love Peggy Carter-"

=<>=

"Keahi Rawya. My parents thought I was going to be a boy. Turned out I was intersex. Ask me questions about what's in my pants and I'll kick you in between yours."

=<>=

"My name Lakshmi Reddy, and- I am not ready for university." At the smattering of giggles she adds, "Yes. Laugh. Is only American joke I know-"

=<>=

"Colette Jones. Jones is fine."

"What's wrong with Colette-"

"Jones is fine."

=<>=

" My name is Marcie Papaginiopolous and I bet 20 bucks that's the longest last name you've seen in your life."

"I'm Lorelai Keihanaikukauakahihuliheekahaunaele. Pay up bitch."

"Fuck."

=<>=

"Winry Wilton. I want to develop prosthetics."

She rolls up her pant leg, exposing the mess of plastic and metal underneath.

"Because I know I can do better than this."

=<>=

"Madhuri Rajasingham. I breed lionchu golfish for fun and profit."

=<>=

"Delilah Sloane. All my kids are out of the house, so I figured I might as well go back to school."

"Savannah Jones. Welcome to the mom squad, 'Lilah."

=<>=

"Jocelyne Cujo. Marine bio major. No, I haven't read JoJo's Bizarre Adventures."

=<>=

"Sunitha Rachapalli. You can call me Sunstone," she adds with a wry wink.

Connie and Patricia both suppress the urge to laugh.

=<>=

"T.B. Sands. The T and B don't even stand for anything. My parents were weird. My friends call me Sandwich."

=<>=

"Phoebe Nguyen. Don't try to pronounce my last name. Just don't."

=<>=

"I'm Patricia Kahaani. I want to be a sociology teacher. I also recently got a service dog." A big white dog flops his head into her lap. "This is Momo."

The dorm bursts into a chorus of squeals and adoring coos.

...

Oh fuck. Now there's no one else left.

It's her turn now.

"I'm-" She freezes. Where's Connie? Where is the confident Connie that can swordfight God and have the audacity to kiss alien tetrarchs? "I'm Connie Maheswaran. Double major, poli-sci and sociology. I... got married just this summer?"

"Double major? Mad respect."

"Oh wow, you're married? That's so cute-"

"God, I wish I even had a boyfriend."

"Double majors rise up-"

It's... fine. Better than fine.

It's okay.

It's okay.

Chapter Text

To: [Jujo Kotaro], [Albert Alexander], [Kevin Morrison], [Sterling Pierce], and 2 others

From: [Dean's Office]

Notice to professors who have incoming freshman Maheswaran, Connie on their roster. Maheswaran has petitioned the dean for the option to take hybrid correspondence courses, as her current employment, the details of which are considered classified information, may negatively impact regular attendance. The authenticity of the employer, as well as the terms of her employment, have been verified by the dean.

Under the terms of this arrangement, Maheswaran will attend classes as a normal student until such time she is deployed, at which point she will complete her coursework using the correspondence model. Maheswaran has additionally taken a leave of absence from her employment, which bars her from deployment except during states of emergency.

Any further questions about the arrangement should be taken up with Maheswaran at the start of the semester.

Lloyd Llewelyn

Dean

(There is a pair of documents on the dean's desk. One is a tiny envelope, held by a seal of four diamonds- white, yellow, blue, and pink.)

By the judgement of

The Great Diamond Authority,

the unclassified statements of this document, concerning the current terms of employment of

the human individual, Kahaani Maheswaran,

are held to be current and true,

as compared to the compiled records of the Empire.

Chapter Text

Steven mumbles something inaudible from in front of the sunlight lamp his gem had been feeding on, the light casting an orange glow on the pale pink of his skin, an eerie shine on his white claws.

(She's in her college dorm, alien knife secreted on her body, sharing space with her solar powered alien husband and their wormhole zombie lion. What even is her life.)

"You're gonna have to run that by me again, sweetie."

"You're too far away," he vaguely murmurs in her direction.

"Get over here then," she deadpans, not even looking up from her laptop while she sits on the bed.

Connie barely even gets to blink before she feels a weight settle close behind her, arms hugging her from behind while Steven's head rests heavy on her shoulder. She doesn't bother smothering the laugh in her mouth. Overgrown cat.

"Happy now?"

"No," he grumbles, tightening his hold with a strength that threatened to topple the both of them over. "Is' too far." His song warps with a low, droning note. "Your skin is in the way..."

Stevonnie, she can guess, used to translating his sleep deprived ominousness.

"You're being spooky, Steven. When was the last time you had a full rest?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm....... four."

"Hours? Days? Weeks?"

"...Yes."

"Steven. My sweet, sleepless Steven. Go the fuck to sleep."

"Can't."

"Steven, you need to sleep before you pass out in public."

"I tried, but I jus'-" Her arm snakes up to idly catch at his rosy curls, his song trailing off as he leans into the touch, replaced with a purring bass note echoing in her bones while his head gently rocks in her hand. "Couldn't get tired enough."

"Sure. That's why you're two seconds off of dragging us both down."

" 'sn't fair," he half slurs. "Y'can't 'ttack me like this..."

"What are you going to do, stab me?" She feels his white claws flex into her sweater. "Hey now."

" 'f I'm going down, I'm takin' you with me," his song whispers tiredly as they slowly fall sideways onto the bed.

"Steven..." she protests, "at least let me shut off my laptop."

But his arms are already snaked around her, his body half draped over her, the bass purr of his sleeping song echoing into her chest.

This is it. This is how she dies.

She dies being python hugged by her pink, purring, overgrown husband.

"Lion," she whines. "Lion, help me."

Lion looks up, barely chuffing in their direction before going back to his own nap.

God damn it.

(It takes all of five minutes before she follows suit.)

Chapter Text

Connie is so cool.

She's super tall, for one- Tam asked once, and Connie had laughed and said she should start carrying a "Yes I'm Tall" business card. 

The answer, not that anyone would be asking Tam anytime soon, is that Connie is 6 foot 3. Hot damn.

And she's so cool.

She can correct the history professor! And be right. It derails the lectures sometimes, but it's actually kind of impressive to watch them go back and forth. (And when the prof is too lost in the passion of ACADEMIC INQUIRIES he can't remember to collect the day's assignment. Which Tam sees as an absolute win.)

Connie plays an instrument- a violin. Everyone knows that cool people play instruments, and the violin, in Tam's own opinion, is the coolest instrument of all. It's why she begged and begged her mother to just please pretty please let her sign up for orchestra when she was in elementary school. She's glad to share something in common with someone so cool.

Connie is ripped.

You wouldn't think it, considering how much of an in-your-face nerd she is. But when the weather is right, she ditches the pink varsity jacket. She rolls up the sleeves of her buttoned shirts, wears some shorts, and people get to remember all over again that she's got legs. She's got the long, muscled legs of someone who could run forever, and once she had the merciless gall to wear a tank top to class and remind people she's got biceps too.

"Why are you so buff?" Tam asked one day.

"It's for work," Connie had said.

"Damn girl," somebody cut in, "what kind o' job you got to give you thighs like that."

"It's classified."

And that had been the end of that.

She's smart and pretty and cool and Tam should really be more freaked out about the knife she saw in Connie's pocket but honestly it was kind of hot-

Oh no.

She's hot.

Tam Tran, you useless gay.

Because after that realization, Tam couldn't get a damn word in edgewise past her own awkward crush blush. She hates when this happens. She finds just the right brand of pretty girl and it turns her into an actual idiot for like a month.

Which means she'll either have to wait until her crush actually turns out to be a total bitch (not likely, but it happens), wait until the next big assignment crushes her emotions (plausible, but not ideal), or actually step up and ask the girl out.

"So!" Tam bursts out while they pack up. "What's your weekend gonna be like, Connie?"

"Oh, same old, same old. I might go down to visit my parents on Sunday if their free. Otherwise it's just me, my swords, my Ben & Jerry's, and my pirated movie collection."

"Swords?" Tam laughs. God, why did I laugh. It wasn't even that funny. "Sounds like a wild weekend."

"It could stand to be wilder."

"Cool, cool." Stop being awkward. Just bite the bullet. "So like... would you possibly be free this weekend? Like, go to lunch or something?"

"Like a class hangout?"

"Like a just us hangout." She's red. She's red, isn't she. "Like-a-just-us-on-a-date-hangout."

Connie pauses. Her eyes are wide.

"Sorry," she says, and oh, there's a blush on her face, too, "I'm kind of..."

"Straight?" Tam dejectedly guesses.

"...married."

Oh.

Oh.

"Oh god I just asked out a married woman."

"It's okay!" Connie hurriedly re-assures, just as mortified. "You didn't know. Besides, it's not like I wear a ring or anything."

"Why don't you?"

"A ring is a tiny, expensive thing I could lose on the job. I'd rather put my money into something more practical, you know."

"I guess that makes sense." Tam finishes packing up, a bit sloppier than she'd like. "Anyways, I should probably get going before this gets any more awkward."

"We could still hang out. Swords, Ben & Jerry's, pirated movies." She tucks her hair behind her ear. "It's not a date, but... it could be fun."

"This isn't, like, a pity date or something, is it?"

"No! I think it'd be nice to hang out!" She's almost at the door. "You're pretty cool to be around, Tam."

I'm cool.

And one tall, cool girl leaves a short, awkward, dorky, cool girl behind with a smile.

Chapter Text

"How have you been handling college so far, Connie?"

"Classes are easier than I expected, I guess. I mean, I get that the material is more advanced, but- I don't know. It feels different."

"That's good to hear, but that's not quite what I meant. I mean outside of class."

"Oh."

"How have you been handling dorm life? Living alone for the first time?"

"It's been okay. The dorm girls can get loud, but it's not too bad. It's a little weird that some people don't know how to cook or do proper laundry, but... it's been okay, so far."

"How do you feel about living without your parents?"

"...I thought I'd miss them less."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I... I thought I wouldn't miss them that much. They both have such busy jobs, and I had all my extracurriculars. I hardly saw that much of them in the first place, most days. I never missed them then. So why would I miss them now? "

"Even if you didn't see them that often, you still got to see them. The fact that you saw so little of them already might have even made the separation feel worse."

"...I guess that makes sense."

"Do you still keep good contact with them?"

"Of course! We call, we text, that kind of stuff."

"That's good. Keeping in touch like that will help ease the transition. Now, back to you. How have you been feeling about your living situation? Do you feel safe?"

"Yeah? Why do you ask?"

"...You're holding a knife in your hands, Connie. And that's just the one I can see."

"..."

"Have you been bringing it to school?"

"...It's not against the rules for a student to carry a knife if they're signed up for an art class."

"Did you sign up for those art classes specifically so you could carry a knife on campus?"

"I did actually need to take an art class! But... yeah. Maybe a little bit."

"I'll ask you again. Do you feel unsafe on campus? "

"Not really. It's not like- I don't feel like someone's just going to jump me in the hallways or anything! It's just-"

"-danger feels inevitable to you, regardless of how safe you feel now? "

"Yeah... I guess it does."

"Well, I'm not going to ask you to drop the habit right away. Why don't you try limiting the amount of knives you carry with you? Just one or two when you go to school, and we'll see how it goes."

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for. Anyway, our time is up. I'll see you next Thursday?"

"Can we push it forward a little? I have stuff to do on Thursday."

"Saturday morning then?"

"Yeah, that works."

"The office will text you the confirmation. Till next time, Connie."

"Bye, Doc."

Doc

Your next appointment is reserved for

Saturday, September 24, 10 AM.

Text YES or NO to confirm/cancel

your appointment.

yes

Chapter Text

"Y'know, I keep wanting to read MoMA as 'momma'."

She can't help but giggle at the thought. "The momma museum. That explains why you got so confused when I actually read it aloud the first time."

"Oh, sure," he frowns, "laugh at the hapless immigrant boy for his cultural failings."

The faux stern look on his face breaks, and they both devolve into quiet laughter all over again.

"Oh!" She grabs his hand, hauling them forward. "Here it is. The World War II section."

He pauses over the prints with a bemused look. "This is... a lot of. It's very-" He turns his song around in his tongue. "Propaganda? Is that the right word?"

"Yep."

"What are propaganda posters doing in an art museum?"

"They are art, silly." 

"But this is- it's just advertising. There's no expression at all! No personal thought!"

"Human art isn't morp, Steven. Art as a purely self expressive medium is a more recent development. Back in the day, artists created as a job. They made what people told them to, and most of the time, the people who bothered to want paid art were people in power trying to promote themselves."

"Huh."

"Does that make sense?"

"I guess." He frowns, just slightly, at the bold lineage, the shining images of helmets and guns. "I just... a Gem wouldn't consider this promotional stuff anywhere near morp."

"Just let the glory of America flow into your heart," she whispers.

"No..." his song whines. "Never." As he dramatically looks away, his eyes catch the sight of dull painted shine. "Hey, what's that about?"

A wooden prop of a shield, painted in red, white, and blue.

"Oh wow. One of the original Captain America props. That's a pretty rare find!"

But Steven isn't looking at the shield. He looks at the old, torn notebook pages, mounted on too big frames. Caricatures of tanks and soldiers, and a dancing monkey carrying a shield.

"I know these..." he half whispers. "...from somewhere, but where-" 

His eyes land on an old photograph.

"Steven?" his song almost laughs.

"Uh- Steven, what are you talking about."

He just laughs to himself again. "Wow, thats incredible, he ended up in a museum!"

"Who did, Steven?"

"Oh, I always called him Mr. Rogers. Such a sweetheart. It's a shame we met when we did. He was a soldier you see." His hand twirls flippantly with an odd smile. "He was cute, but nothing ever came of it, he already had his eyes on another girl, you know how humans-"

He stops.

He had made himself look human for this trip. Nothing thorough, just a simple palette swap, an echo of what he might have looked like if he hadn't balanced out the way he did those years back. Enough to fool the casual observer, but not her.

But right now? He doesn't look like himself.

Not with that distant, empty shock on his face.

"I think we should take a break."

She herds him to a bench out in the main halls, and it's worrying how limply he lets himself be dragged along.

And the disoriented flatness of his eyes isn't exactly reassuring, either.

But they know this song and dance. He's done it for her, and she'll do it for him.

"What's your name?"

"Steven Universe," is his terse reply.

"How old are you?"

"I was-" his song breaks and skips over it's words, "-August 15, 1991. T-t-twenty years."

"What year is it?"

"2011."

"Where are we?"

"At the mom museum."

Okay, we're back. She allows herself a long, huffing sigh. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I-" his song shudders with wavering sigh if its own. "I think so. I'm okay, I just- forget, sometimes."

"Forget what, Steven?"

His face twists with- distress? Shame? Guilt? It's not quite obvious which- as he trails the ceiling, the vaguest glow surfacing behind his eyes.

"Sometimes I forget that the memories aren't mine."

"Memories. Rose's memories?"

"Yeah. They're just kind of-" He gestures vaguely at his own head.

"Are they all... Like That?"

"Nah. But sometimes the memories- desync? Like, Rose saying or doing something that I wouldn't ever do, and then my brain tries to reconcile the contradicting data." He half shudders. "She was going off about how cute and charming and naive humans were again."

She hums. "I gotta say, that's kinda fucked up."

He almost laughs. " A bit. "

"Want to forget about how awkward this is by buying the weirdest shit we can find in the gift shop?"

" I'd like that. "

Chapter Text

"What's up, Bren?"

"Oh! Um..." Well, now it's kind of embarrassing to say it out loud, isn't it. "My shower isn't working, I was wondering if I could borrow yours?"

"Yeah, sure! Come on in!"

Connie moves off to the side, eyeing the little box half hidden under the towels and soaps. "You got meds or something?"

"Dermal patch."

"Neat." She shuts the door behind them, stalking back to the bathroom. "You might want to sit tight a little. I was hand-washing some stuff earlier, so I'll need to take it out."

Which leaves one Bren Lavore awkwardly waiting in a beanbag chair.

It's a nice beanbag chair, at least. Facing a rather... Interesting wall.

A Very Interesting Wall, in that it was completely blank aside from the large flat object vaguely approximating an industrial grade dart board, if such a thing ever existed.

Said dart board was positively littered with an assortment of throwing knives. The prettiest, most ornate of them all was a dappled watered steel, its handle laid with roses. It was jabbed directly into a very skillful drawing of a respectable looking old man with a golden eyepatch, right into the socket of his one good eye.

"So, Connie-"

"Yeah?" She calls from the bathroom.

"Interesting guy you've got on the board, there."

Connie pokes her head out, almost confused until she lays her eyes on the picture with a disgusted frown. "Ugh, that guy. Don't worry about him. He's just a guy from work."

Bren can't help but laugh at that. "What, this your shitty boss?"

"Ew, no. My boss is way prettier than that. I just met him on the job once. I'll probably have to meet him again, so... preparing myself mentally for it."

"Jeez, what kind of job is this, carrying out hits for the mob or something?"

"No."

She pauses.

"Not yet, at least."

At that comforting statement, Connie finally fully steps out of the bathroom, her little basket in tow. "Anyway, bathroom's free now."

"Am I ever gonna find out what the deal is with the old guy?"

"Nope. Also, I'm making grilled cheeses. You want any when you're done?"

"Do they have secret stabby knives in them to kill me for finding your mob hit secrets?"

"Only if you want them to be."

"Guess I'll die, then."

"That's the spirit."

Chapter Text

Bro

Bro you're not gonna fucking believe this shit

Well i ain't believein shit until you tell me

believe in

BELIEVIN GOD DAMMIT

you good

you havin a moment

fucking big ass fingers tiny ass phone

k so can i say my Thing

ye

ah

so remember my intro to logic prof

all like You Ain't Late Until I Show Up

so my intro to logic class there's this girl

is this another bi panic again

wow fuck you too

we are literally dating tis a bit late for that

exactly. fuck you

anyway. GORL

tall. buff. I mean

TallTM

like a six footer AT LEAST

i love her already

Guns.

we all hate and love her in equal measure

she asks The Big Brain Questions and gets the professor derailed for like Days

oof

no one knows anything about her except that she's from like. Maryland maybe

also she has a knife collection in her dorm? allegedly

hot

i'm not even finished yet

she's got style. i can respect

anyway she dorms so she's like. always on time

but today she was. Not

we are all watching from the window

she staggers into the building parking lot, she is literally only wearing a tank top and yoga pants In December and she is wearing a pink varsity jacket like a hat

beautiful

but alas. teach is already parked in teacher's parking. he goes out of the car

oh no

Direct Eye Contact

she just. straps her bag and fucking BOLTS

usain bolt levels of bolt

clear cross the parking lot and then she fucking STARTS SCALING THE WALL

oh shit

SHE IS FUCKING CRAWLING THE WALLS LIKE SOME KIND OF MAN SPIDER???

TOWARD THE OPEN WINDOW OF THE CLASSROOM

WE ARE TO Afraid TO STOP HER

as you should be. clearly she's a god in human form

JUST FUCKING. YOINKS THROUGH TH E WWINDOW

PARKOURS INTO HER SEAT

beat the prof by a whole ass minute

we're all sitting there losing our minds and I shit you not someone went

"holy shit you just climbed a building" and her response was

"yeah? and???"

Big Dick Energy

The Biggest

what an icon. we stan

Chapter Text

Madhuri gave Connie one of her lionchu goldfish. Like an early Christmas gift, she'd said.

It was a very cute goldfish. The round cheeks, the bubbly face, the perfectly round and black eyes. It swam happily in its perfectly sized tank, happily eating perfectly scooped proportions of brine shrimp.

It had been nice, for a little while, to have something to take care of. Cathartic in some way, to measure out food and water, to clean the tank, to scrub the rocks.

She even put a marimo ball, just to be a little extra. As a treat.

She took a picture and it was very adorable. Steven would have loved it.

She never did send it.

It was all kind of stupid, in retrospect. (Well, that's not what her therapist would say. It's not what he did say. He'd said that certain... peculiarities... were bound to happen eventually, considering her "unique case". Which is therapist talk for Haha What The Actual Fuck Is Your Life.)

When she would go to school, she'd start getting paranoid.

What if she didn't feed it enough?

What if she fed it too much?

What if the water wasn't clean enough?

What if it got sick?

What if it choked on something?

What if it snapped and jumped out of the tank? She'd heard it was a thing that happened. If there was something wrong in the tank, the fish would try to leave.

She tried not to think about it.

She tried not to think of a frail little body broken to pieces from the heights it had fallen from. 

Shivering on a cold floor.

Shuddering, airless gasps as it struggled to move under its crippled power, a pulse bleeding out like a frantic, hammered anvil, a weak litany of delirious song, no please. Please, I- I need it

It took all of two weeks before she gave it away. Patricia was always better about the kind of regimented schedule a pet needed, after all. A nice early Christmas present. It really was so cute, after all.

She deletes the picture from her phone.

She keeps the marimo. It'd make a nice Christmas present for Steven- he liked plants. He'd think it was cute.

She never gets another pet again.

Chapter Text

It wasn't very often that Connie would directly or individually address Sten or Vendan, discounting when one of them was fronting.

After all, she hardly ever saw them. Most all of her time with the two was filtered through Steven, after all. So unless she absolutely knew she was talking to Sten or Vendan instead of Steven, she didn't try to draw them out (just occasionally asking how the both of them were doing). It just seemed... rude? Disrespectful? Dismissive, somehow, of Steven himself. At least at first.

But he had trusted her with them. She was married to Sten and Vendan just as she was to Steven. He- they- didn't mind being drawn out, per se, if it was with her.

=<>=

She'd decided that they needed to indulge in the epitome of The Lazy And Married WeekendTM. That meant a manic sweep of completing all possible work and distractions, arranging the biggest, laziest spreads of food their combined skill could acquire, and having the perfect pretense to test Peridot's latest pet projects- phones being compatible with the Gem database, and a smartphone projector.

It's also a test to see how well human digital data transferred to the Gem database. That was one of Connie's pet projects- helping archive human knowledge and culture (she is not paranoid about late-stage capitalism and the imminent self collapse of the world order, absolutely not.)

In retrospect, The Lazy And Married WeekendTM is not as lazy as it initially appears. But- multitasking or not, it's still doing nothing but power through a 14 movie marathon of Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes. More agonizing work exists than sitting down to Netflix and chill.

Lion, perpetually horse sized as he was, made an excellently fluffy couch. And Steven makes a great pillow, Connie can confirm.

She pat's Steven's shoulder. "Ven. Ven, look." She points to Sherlock on the screen, during one of his more analytical moments. "Vendan, it's you."

"Hmm." She can see their face shift and still as Vendan takes the forefront, a bemused note in his song. "I feel vaguely attacked."

"No! Take my compliments! Take my book jokey compliments!"

"You dwaled for two hours about how this character was portrayed as," and his song shifts like an old vinyl, "a manic, self absorbed drug addict savant, all around a big ol' fucking dickweed, 6/10, would not date."

She slaps her hand over his face to a sharp, shocked chuff. "How dare you use my own voice against me. I later went on to say," she insists as she pokes him, "that he was grossly mischaracterized in modern adaptations, a disservice to the original character. I hate modern Sherlock. Classic Sherlock is great. Basil Rathbone got him good. You're a Rathbone, not a Cumberbatch."

"I suppose he is charming to watch while he works," Sten concedes.

"You're the Watson."

"...Shocked. Betrayed by our own wife... does the cruelty of this world know no end? "

"Just for that, you're both Sherlock."

"What," Sten's wavering song stutters slyly, "are you gunning to take my place, my dear Watson? "

"Pretty sure Lion is the Watson."

The blankly contemplative look that reels from that statement makes her drop her nacho back onto the plate as she laughs.

"You know what?" Steven concedes. "That's fair." Steven pats at Lion's oversized, flower scattered mane, bringing forth an offering of nachos. "You hear that Lion? You're the forever Watson of our hearts."

Lion simply chuffs and delicately eats the offered chips.

"Stop feeding your oversized son nachos, they're about to catch the culprit."

"Yes, dear."

He feeds Lion more chips as Sherlock verbally dismantles the culprit for Scotland Yard.

Chapter Text

His head is rested on her lap while she reads. His eyes are closed, but he is not asleep, not really. He doesn't actually sleep anymore, at least in the human way- an hour a day if he's scheduled about it, or maybe a full night once a week if he puts it off.

Well- "hour a day". Many times he just powernaps at random intervals, unhindered by any earthly concept of a day-night cycle. Like a cat. Or some kind of weird alien horse.

She tries not to laugh at the thought. Even if he's not quite sleeping, she still doesn't want to jostle him.

His body is not dead still the way it would be if he were. He still visibly breathes, if only barely, a vague purr of song leaving him with the subtle rise and fall of his chest. It's the flicker under his eyelids that betrays him- he's probably doing file work of some kind. Even intergalactic empires with no concept of money can't escape paperwork.

Even still, he is vulnerable, like this. So she keeps watch.

=<>=

"I notice you seem to be fond of narrative tropes, Connie."

"Oh?"

"When you talk about your experiences, you tend to be... metaphorical at times. I mean, even discounting the literally fantastic nature of your experiences."

"Well, I did grow up with books and stories."

"I can't help but notice a particular narrative that you use, and I have... concerns."

"...What kind of concerns?"

=<>=

She opens a door for him, bowing teasingly. "My Diamond."

He bows with a laugh as he passes by. "My knight."

=<>=

"You still refer to yourself as his knight."

"Well, I am officially listed as such in the Empire's records."

"Yes. If I recall correctly, this concept was instilled to you by your sword master?"

"She was trying to relate her teachings to human concepts I was already familiar with."

=<>=

"Oh dear. It's raining."

She shrugs off her oversized windbreaker and unceremoniously slaps it over both their heads. "Come on. We can still make it to the station if we run."

=<>=

"She was training you to die for him."

"It's not like that anymore."

=<>=

"Ah fuck."

The knife clatters gracelessly on the countertop as she clutches her hand.

"God-damn unpeeled chayote, fucking slippery glueskin bastard, fuuuuuuuuck…"

Steven looks down rather alarmed at the watery stream of blood pouring down her finger.

"It's fine," she deflects, "It's a lot worse than it looks-"

He firmly, gently grabs her hand and shoves it to the sink, letting the worst of the blood and gluey residue wash away. There's a strange frozen silence that doesn't leave his face until he raises her hand and lays his kiss there, watching almost nervously as the cut stitches itself back together.

=<>=

"And yet you still have the impulse to protect him, even from minor things."

=<>=

There is a knife she keeps in her pocket that she only takes when she goes out with him.

=<>=

"It's not his fault. It's not like he asks me to do it."

"This isn't about him. It's about you."

=<>=

"Connie," his song strains nervously. "A little help?"

He's a bit more Vendan than Steven, posture ramrod straight while five different cats weave around his legs.

"I'm trapped," he whispers.

=<>=

"Why do you need to protect him?"

"Because..."

=<>=

He laughs at a unicorn themed taiyaki.

"Oh my god it's a monstrosity."

"No!" he snickers. "It's adorable, look at it..."

=<>=

"Because..."

=<>=

Stevonnie runs barefoot in the snow and smiles.

=<>=

"...because he makes me feel safe."

=<>=

"I couldn't- you were- you wouldn't wake up and I-"

"I'm here." His arms are around her. He rests her head against the crook of his neck, his clawed hands a steady presence on her back as the guitared notes of his song hum in her mind. "It was just a dream. I'm here, I'm here."

He rocks the both of them back and forth until the steady trill of his whispered nothings finally drown the echo of her sobs on the dormitory walls.

=<>=

His head is laid on her lap while she reads. His eyes are closed, but he is not asleep, not yet.

Her hand finds its way through his hair and he blindly leans into the touch, the purr in his song steadying as he falls into sleep despite himself.

He falls, and it is a subtle, quick thing, a hand left vaguely grasped on her arm as he stills.

She keeps watch and turns to the next page.

...Because protecting him makes me feel safe.

Chapter Text

Iron Man's Gucci Gloves @blurryironmanphotos

#NYC was anyone on the manhattan bridge line at like 2:30 today? like. did anyone else See That? because like. What the fuck. What The Fuck

thread incoming because what is my life now

|

Iron Man's Gucci Gloves @blurryironmanphotos

did anyone else see that lady. fuckin

6 footer in a sunhat and pink shades And A Real Ass God Damn Sword strapped to her back? sipping her fucking Starbucks?

KeepNYCWeird @keepNYCweird

@blurryironmanphotos the python lady?

Iron Man's Gucci Gloves @blurryironmanphotos

@keepNYCweird OH THANK GOD, I WASN't HaLLUCINATING

taiyaki or dieyaki @taiyakiORdieyaki

wait what do you mean python lady

Iron Man's Gucci Gloves @blurryironmanphotos

@taiyakiORdieyaki SHE WAS WEARING A FUCKING PYTHON LIKE A GUCCI SCARF

FUCKING. LISA FRANK PINK PYTHON

taiyaki or dieyaki @taiyakiORdieyaki

@blurryironmanphotos sounds fake but ok

businesshusband @businesshusband

@taiyakiORdieyaki No you don't understand, I was THERE. trying not to laugh because my husband is FearTM of snakes. quaking in his suit over a giant pink snake with puppy eyes

Tom Nook Owns My Kneecaps @TomNookd

lmao yeah my little brother tried to feed his popsicle to it And It Actually Leaned Over And Licked it. the look on his face. he found religion that day

[uploaded SnakeChurch.png]

Keep NYC Weird @keepNYCweird

@TomNookd take me to snurch

Soobway Selfie @soobwayselfie

oh god that lisa frank snake made eye contact with me and it was like looking into. I Could Not Look Away. Endless. Fathomless. Unknowable Energies

Tom Nook Owns My Kneecaps @TomNookd

@soobwayselfie the snake church has chosen you... it's too late... goddbye firned

Chapter Text

O Danny Boy

Daniel

daniel

daniel

Patricia.

I have Words

i have physics homework

back at it again with another update on our queen, Mrs Lord Of The UniverseTM

Suddenly I Have No Physics Homework, Please Go On

some poor soul... thought inviting connie to a frat party was a good idea

no

yes

oh god

how many bodies to we have to bury

don't worry they dug their own graves

GOOD

but also go on

frat party. zeta psi or some shit?

you know how people think she's hot

because she is

so these Loud Boys were recruiting for their party, they just took one (1) look at her and invited her along

like

clearly Someone was hoping to get some

oof

so she shows up

I assume you were there

yes I was her DateTM to the party

mrs. steal yo girl

I ain't even mad

as always, wearing the Boyf varsity jacket and her knee highs

and the nose chain?

and the nose chain

and a knife holster, naturally

naturally

for the Knifiest Knife

knee highs: high

nose: chained

knife: out

We Are Forcibly Removed From The Premises

if only, my guy

if only

what acutally happened

you made a speeling mistake im already scared

fuck you too

some Other dumbass thought they could get connie drunk

yikes

she actually went for it???

it's okay (no it's not she's a dumbus and we love her)

her logic was if she went in too deep OR IF SOMEONE HAD THE BALLS TO ROOFIE HER

YEAH FUCKING YIKES

she just goes "no it's cool we can just call steven"

good lord

in her defense, he was in fact staying the night at her dorm

he just didn't want to go to the party

he should have, it would have been great

he would forcibly invert the party with his unknowable fae energy in like an hour tops

wait

wait does he even know

what

does he know he's not actually allowed to stay overnight at the dorms

 I doubt it

as IF connie would ever tell him that

"oh no just teleport directly to my room and Never Encounter My Dorm Mates Ever"

he wouldn't even question it. steven you fucking himbo

lol it's not his fault he married a back alley knife delinquent

oh wait it is

STEVEN YOU FUCKING HIMBO

tell him

no I want to live

dew it

no u

also we're forgetting the important part

drunk connie. yes I recall

anyway yeah

red solo cup and everything

we aren't even legal. Connie You FUcking Crinimal

crinimal

fuck you too

she's clearly starting to Get Zoned

i'm seeing some dick in the corner eyeing to make a move

ew

and then she turns around And She's Got A Knife

going all Italian hands with a knife

lovely

while Dickhead Jr. is starting to stalk over, i'm also closing in to try and head him off

heroe

and I don't know what the fuck THAT conversation was but I walk into connie, with her red solo cup, her knifiest knife, saying, And I Quote

I Have Knocked Down Heaven's Door To Fuck God On His Throne And There Is Nothing You Can Do About It

. i

My God.

i'm not even surprised OR disappointed

"and I would do it again! who will stop me? GOD?"

-wheeze-

i

once more, with feeling. My God

the PANACHE

that diamondfucker panache

...oh my god she was talking about steven

WHO ELSE

oh my god

Oh my god

I need to

process this

don't mind me, i'm dying in my dorm illegal swivel chair

HOW DO I FACE HIM AFTER THIS WE ARE GOING TO LUNCH TOMORROW

you die

Daniel you're also at this lunch

we both just die

Chapter Text

"Oh, ew."

Steven leans over. "What is it?"

She pulls up an old wooden box. "I can't believe am'mā kept these."

"A... box." It's got a roughly made sliding lid and an old, childish carving of a butterfly on it. "What about it?"

"It's for my baby teeth." She flaps her hands in a disgusted fashion. "She kept them. It's creepy."

What. "What?"

"Y'know... baby teeth."

"I don't get it."

"Y'know." She tugs at her mouth a bit. "When your first set of teeth fall out so the adult ones come in."

"They what? "

"It's exactly what it sounds like, Strawberry."

"And that's just... normal. For humans."

"Well, yeah." She narrows her eyes, like he's the one being weird. "Are you telling me you never lost your baby teeth?"

He frowns. "I-"

Memory file not found.

"I..."

Memory file not found.

"I don't…" Memory file not found "...I don't think so?" His fangs flex uncertainly. "I think I've just always had these?"

She takes a deep breath.

"Are-" she tents her hands to her face, "-are you telling me your teeth just grew with you? "

"I guess?" his song pitches nervously. "I don't see what's so weird about that?"

"Sweetie, that's horrifying."

"It's just bones? They grow?" He defensively squishes at her face with his hands. "You're the weirdo who had her bones fall out."

"No, you."

"A supreme counter-argument," he trills. "Clearly, public speaking classes have taught you well."

"I'm on break. Step off." She swats his hand away. "Can- can your teeth even fall out? I'm curious now."

"Oh, yeah," he remembers. "I think a few times, yeah. Had my teeth knocked off before. Always grew back, though."

"Hah." She pats at his face. "Baby shark. Do do-do do-do-do..."

"Can't I graduate to a daddy shark at least?" he whines.

"Steven I know you have no idea what you're saying but there's a lot of reasons why I am never calling you anything close to 'daddy' ever not even as a joke."

"What."

"Shh," she soothes. "Don't worry about it. Anyway," she deflects, "do your teeth, like... do anything?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know... turn into freaky bone armies when you plant them in the ground."

"Uhhh..." Did they? "...I don't know. I never tried. I didn't keep any of my teeth." Wait. "Actually, I think Pearl might have kept them."

They both imagine the weird, ornate container his teeth must be sitting in somewhere, and shudder at the thought.

"Let's agree to never think about that again and just share a leftover pumpkin pie," Connie flatly suggests.

"Wow," Steven flatly agrees, "that's a genius idea and I love you, let's just go do that right now."

Chapter Text

Cat Steven stands on the counter, her large blue eye transfixed on the smoked salmon Connie holds in her chopsticks.

"What," Connie mutters from behind her full mouth, "you want it?"

"Mjeh."

"Pff, okay." Connie holds the piece out to Cat Steven- just slightly too far away from the counter.

The cat vaguely paws at the air.

"You want it, you gonna have to work for it."

Cat Steven leans forward, sniffing in the direction of the morsel. Her mouth just barely opens and...

...a long cluster of tentacles tenderly grasps the smoked fish with all the dexterity of too many hands, harshly inverting themselves back into the cat's mouth.

A silence.

"Hey Strawberry?"

"What is it, Biscuit?" Steven calls from the deck.

"When did Cat Steven have a squid mouth?"

"A what now?"

"You fucking heard me."

Steven pokes his head through the door. Right on cue, one of Cat Steven's tongues reaches up to clean her eyeball.

He quirks his eyebrow. "That's just Cat Steven."

"Steven she literally just whacked her own eyeball like a lizard."

"Yeah? And???"

Steven. Steven you fucking himbo.

She lets out a long hiss through her teeth.

"Cats... don't... do that." Cat Steven makes to lick her fingers, and she can feel twenty-something tongues caress her hands like a jilted lover. "I'm not even sure that Cat Steven is a cat."

"Oh." He squints in thought. "So I'm guessing the pocket dimension in her mouth isn't normal cat stuff either, huh."

"Ex-fucking-scuse me, THE WHAT-"

Chapter Text

"Hey," Peggy calls out.

"What?" Lakshimi pokes her head out of her door. "What's going oooooooooh…."

Connie's door is open, just barely.

Monroe moves to close it, but Peggy grabs her arm. "What?" Monroe mutters. "I'm just closing her door for her."

"There's someone inside," Bren whispers.

"Yeah? And?" Eira questions. "Connie's hungover, so what?"

"I saw Connie leave this morning."

A scared silence settles.

"I'm going in," Keahi decides.

"Are you perhaps short of a marble? " Lakshimi wheezes.

"It's Connie," Keahi tries to reassure. "She wouldn't let a axe murderer in the dorm. She probably let someone crash for New Years." She looks out to the scared crowd of girls and sighs. "I'm not gonna fucking die. I'm just gonna check."

She nudges the door open, wincing just a bit when the door predictably creaks. She doesn't need to tiptoe, but the others are following her lead, and she'd rather keep the collective noise down.

Someone's sleeping on the bed.

A broad shape in loose white clothes, haloed by flower petals. Pale blush skin marred with colorful freckles. Thick lashes just barely hide under rosy, curling hair. White claws curl around Connie's pillow, a loose white shirt opening in a quatrefoil flaunting the shine of a gemstone.

On her hands are the geometric shapes of flowers. A small diamond, underscored by a single dot, marks her index fingers- the exact same mark that Connie had on her ring fingers.

It suddenly occurs to every single girl there that Connie, at no point, ever said her spouse was a man or a human.

"Oh my god," someone whispers.

Chapter Text

Connie's... wife... stumbles out of the dorm room, and everyone just collectively decides to pretend they weren't wondering what the fuck they were going to about her.

Sure, they have questions.

But this tall, pink... fae creature, she looks just this side of lost as she vaguely meanders to the common area. Especially with the dark puppy eyes.

"Is this… St. George Clark?"

"Yep," Eira pops out.

"Oh." The Gem has a low, soft, sing-song voice. "Do you know where Connie is?"

"ARE YOU CONNIE'S WIFE?" Sunitha shouts, and the Gem blinks harsh at the sound, stepping back.

Patricia whacks the other girl with her paperback as she looks back to the Gem. "She went out to go buy some school stuff. She'll be back in like, half an hour tops."

"Alright." The Gem makes her way to the kitchen. "Anyone want pancakes?"

"It's like 11."

"Pancakes."

…..

It's probably rude to randomly shout "FUCK" in the student store, but Connie just realized that she left the dorm door open and Steven was there.

She grabs her bag and runs down to the station.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

When she finally, agonizingly makes it to her floor, the common room is full.

Everyone's got a plate of a full pancake brunch, and right in the kitchen making a chocolate-strawberry batch is Steven, who turns and smiles like this isn't the worst possible thing to happen right now.

"What are you doing up? " she totally doesn't squeak.

"You were gone when I woke up, so I came out here. Your floor friends are really nice."

"Steven..."

"Connie," he trills all soft, giving her a quick kiss like they weren't breaking every guest rule in front of the entire dorm. "I saved you a plate."

"Ugh, fine."

….

De Silva taps her on the arm. "You know you broke like, a good chunk of the guest rules with your wife here."

"Mmmmmaybe."

"By all rights, I should revoke your guest privileges."

"Mmm."

A silence is held between them.

"Eh, whatever," De Silva finally decides. "It's not like you've been disturbing the peace or anything." She stabs her fork into her cut of sausage. "Also she makes great pancakes. She can stay."

"Are you implying my wife bribed you into letting her stay on?"

"What am I, the cops?" De Silva scoffs. "Get off my dick."

"Only she allow because she say your wife very pretty," Howlett adds slyly.

"Fuck you too, Howlett."

"Thanks," Connie manages to choke out. "I guess."

"Still we revoke guest privilege you bring anyone else for rest of term."

"You know what," Connie concedes as she takes another bite of her pancake, "That's fair."

Chapter Text

"I like to think I'm a good person."

He's not awake enough to answer her at the moment, but that's alright.

"I mean," she haltingly continues, "I should think I'm a good person. People are supposed to think that they're good people, y'know? We're supposed to try being good people, I guess." She looks past him, at the wall. "I know we do good work. We help Gems, we help humans, we help people. I do good things. Sometimes I think that makes me a good person."

For a while, she doesn't say anything else.

"I stabbed someone today."

She fiddles with the one button on his sleeping shirt.

"He's okay. I just stabbed him in the hand, and-and I made sure to miss any big arteries. He won't even scar, if he treats it right." She almost laughs- it comes out as a vague exhale more than anything. "You would have said he didn't deserve it, if you were there. But you weren't."

She finally makes up her mind and undoes the button. His shirt is just open enough that she can see Sten and Vendan's promise right under his collarbone.

An apple flower, she remembers. Love, as many flowers are, and long life- love until and beyond death itself.

She traces it under her fingers.

"I should say it, too. I should be saying I overreacted, that he didn't deserve it. But I'm not." The flower has two leaves, one on each side- are they Sten and Vendan? She should ask him sometime. "I should be sorry, but I'm not."

God, you're not even awake enough to hear any of this.

"It's not like- it's not like I feel like I did the right thing, reacting the way I did, I-"

So why do I feel like I should be apologizing to you for something you don't even know happened?

"-I... I just don't feel like it was wrong. Even if I kind of know that it is."

He doesn't answer. She doesn't know what she would do if he did. The only 'answer' he gives at the moment is the strong, distant hum of his heart, the subtle, tidal rise and fall of his chest.

"I like myself. At least, I think I do."

She runs a hand through his hair- callused, rough, violent hands- and he leans into the touch, even now. (Never afraid, not of her- they both became dragons to escape the towers their lives had left them in. She wonders, sometimes, if he even realizes it, how terrifying they've become.)

"I'm just not sure if I should."

Chapter Text

In compliance with the student Right To Know relevant events which may concern their life/safety on campus:

On February 10, from 9-12 that night, campus and area police fielded several reports concerning sightings of a large, unidentifiable animal.

The animal was described as vaguely feline in appearance, and while size descriptions varied due to distance and poor visibility, it was consistently estimated to be of equal or greater size than a human, of a light reddish(?) color.

While seemingly non-aggressive, the animal also displays no fear of humans, and thus cannot be driven away using standard tactics.

Students are advised to not go out alone at night, and not to leave trash uncovered/unattended outdoors.

UPDATE concerning the events of February 10 in compliance with the student Right To Know:

Campus and area police have since been informed that the animal in question is a working animal that poses no threat to humans as long as it is left unbothered.

Students are still advised to not attempt to approach, touch, or feed the animal, for the sake of not distracting it, and not to leave trash uncovered/unattended outdoors.

Chapter Text

Biscuit

s

s

STEBBBBBB

stobin

stebone tbone

Connie? Is that you?

mmyeah tis'i, WIFE

wiat fuc

im this bisquite

starberr

stteven

?

Yes?

MY WIFE

I can barely read any of this?

Is this one of those human jokes?

WAST THAT

iii wood nev

V ER

bvt ai MY WIFE

Haha ok.

Wait, are you ok? This looks... weird.

INDRINK I LOBE YIUBSINSOSNSO

MUCHBAD YIU MEAN T H E

AF6AKU W9RLD TO ME AND

INWILL S OK ME AND SEE G UOU

IN THE SECHISEST AND AMSEES

YIY OUS CAU SEE E YIU KNAPI

YOU KNOW.WHGE ILOVE ULU SO

SO SO.MUCH OMG

BABEY YOU AEE BABAUW

Am I having a stroke?

I love iou

I love you and you're my best friend

luom in son

porl  is my frenn

You aer my BEST FRIEND

AND I CAN ALWAYS DEPND AND LOVE ON YOU

You beiywdutif fuckiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnng

godedewewss

THAS MY WIFR

WU

WO

WKFE

I love you too???

MY WIFE

Chapter Text

"Now class, can anyone tell me what parasite caused the Irish Potato Famine?"

Don't say the English, Connie thinks strongly to herself. It's true, but you shouldn't say it.

Someone laughs.

The professor blinks at her.

Well fuck.

Thank you, oh tiny, desperate, tired voice in my head, once again escaping past my brain filters and into horrible reality.

"Actually, Connie," the professor cheerfully responds in her English brogue, "that's a common misconception! As the English usually kill their hosts, we're actually parasitoids, not true parasites."

Connie wheezes into her thermos.

Chapter Text

"So, uh…"

Connie's wife laughs to herself just a bit. "Call me Aster, if you like."

"Aster." Sunitha clicks her tongue a bit. "Valentine's day's coming up."

"Oh, yes! I remember that. Connie told me about it last year."

"Got any plans?"

Aster tilts her head. "She was looking forward to cheap candy day when she told me about it. So probably candy shopping?"

Madhuri frowns. "Oh sweetie, no."

"Is this your first Valentine's together?" Pheobe asks.

"Eh..." the Gem puts a finger to her face. "No, not really. We've been together longer than that."

"But this is your first Valentine's married."

"I guess? Why?"

"Do something special!" Sunitha insists. "Holiday type stuff is important for humans, y'know."

"Don't you wuv her?" Madhuri teases. "Is she not the most beautiful piece of-" Patricia whaps her with a magazine. "Ow. Anyways, you wuv her."

"Of course I do," Aster trills all sweet, and oh that voice is unfair. How dare she get all sweet about her wife.

"Exactly!" Sunitha's voice has a tilt to it. "Valentine's is a great opportunity to celebrate that love."

"She has school on Tuesday, though."

"You could do something after school."

"I guess we could go out?" Aster offers. "We do that a lot."

"No!" Winry suddenly cuts in, pulling away from cleaning out her prosthetic leg. "You gotta do something different."

"I guess we could go to the movies. It's been a while."

"Come on. It's a great time to," Madhuri almost laughs under raised eyebrows, "be a little closer to one another."

Winry snorts from her seat. "You could get to really know eachother, just the two of you."

A silence.

Aster blinks bemusedly. "Oh, you're asking if we have sex-"

"OKAY KIDS!" Connie suddenly appears, dragging her wife away back into her room. "I'mma stop y'all right there-"

"Haha, yeah, get it Connie-"

"You are no longer allowed to interrogate my wife goodbye thank you-"

Chapter Text

Strawberry

hey can you send lion over real quick

You okay?

yeah I just need our oversized son

Okay! Don't get arrested.

Lion arrives.

He takes in, possibly just this side of judgmentally, the weird halo of ramen, chips, ice cream sandwiches, and boba tea- all of them emptied to their wrappings- that Connie has half nested her desk in.

"Don't look at me like that," she grumbles. "Midterms are a bitch and that bitch has murdered me."

Lion slowly drags the trash tin forward, and one by one puts each wrapper in. Maybe he licks the food leftovers a little. She can respect that. Tasty is tasty, even if it's trashy.

When the trash is all put away, he weaves his way closer and flops down in front of her.

She falls off her chair directly into his giant body.

And if he opens the gate in his mane to better silence her cathartic screams, no one has to know.

Chapter Text

To: [Albert Alexander], {Sterling Pierce], and 4 others

From: [Connie Maheswaran]

Professors,

In accordance with the terms of my arrangement with this school concerning my attendance, I request to take my finals early, as I have been informed there will be a high likelihood I am subject to emergency deployment by my employers. Precise dates and times will be left to your discretion, but it must occur before the month of May.

Thank you for cooperation.

-Connie Maheswaran

Chapter Text

St. Paddy

daniel

yo

connie back at it again

oof

lmao don't worry nobody died

Who Do We Have Do Kill

no death (yet)

anyway, she started carrying a big ass duffle bag a few days back

erady to kill a man

honestly? probably

i asked her what was in the bag and IT'S THE FUCKING BRIDE'S BLADE

And The Armor

oh shit

shit's gonna go down?

Probably

update: her phone just did the diamond chime

OH SHIT

just stands up and "gotta go, I have to intervene"

"what are you gonna do"

"Intervene."

we are in fear

As We Should Be

did you get that evacuation order

Yeah

think this has anything to do with Connie's thing

PROBABLY

rip to the man Connie's gonna kill tonight

rip in pieces

Chapter Text

highblood

how's yalls evacuations

HeLeftHisFamilyBehind

evacuated

thefitnessgrampacertest

YO LOOK AT ThE #NYC TAG ON TWITTER

highblood

what

what is it you gremlin

thefitnessgrampacertest

KNIFE GIRL IS TREnDING

highblood

oh? Go On

thefitnessgrampacertest

SHE IS

FUCKING

BREATIHNG FIRE AT ALIEN CYBORGS

IN MANHATTAN

HeLeftHisFamilyBehind

what the fuck

thefitnessgrampacertest

WHILE HOLDING A SWORD

SHE LOOKS LIKE A FUCING UTENA

revolutionarymearlutena

owO

thefitnessgrampacertest

she really out there spittin' iron and killing men

yes miss excuse me I Am Gay

HeLeftHisFamilyBehind

how do we go back to school knowing she's there

revolutionarymearlutena

we just die

highblood

we already dyin in evac haha

thefitnessgrampacertest

Petition to die

HeLeftHisFamilyBehind

signed

revolutionarymearlutena

signed

highblood

...

signed