Chapter 1: Calm Before the Storm
It always feel like time doesn't exist when you're inside your car, a small, efficient Volkswagen or Suzy, as you call it. But this time, that long sense of eternity clearly wasn't meant to be in a good way. You could obviously see the dark, grey clouds outside covering the sky beyond your new home: Beach City.
"The tornado is expected to be heading to the long coastline in the region between Charm City, Ocean Town and Beach City. Travelling at 80 mph, if you live in the outskirt of Delmarva, watch out."
The radio blabbered with breaking news over your favorite station, which used to play soothing jazz to make long road trips more comfortable, and now?
Boy did it help calming your bundle of nerves. All of this screamed bad luck, especially when the half-torn sign came to view.
"Welcome to Beach City"
Above the surprisingly goofy font, there was a smiling sun, but it would have been more pleasant if half of its face hasn't been scratched off, revealing dubiously horrifying frames that held it up inside. Nervously, you drove past the threshold and looked around for guidance. As expected, nobody seemed to be in the mood for a walk outside on this kind of day, that is, until you saw three teens strolling down the sidewalk. You stopped by, pulled the side window down and asked them:
"Hey, do you know where 68 Beach Access is?"
The skinny, pale one seemed timid, and stuttered out:
"W-well, you need to drive past U-stor over there and um… turn right at the car wash, then… uh…Garnet, do we even have number 68?"
The tall, dark one butted in and answered:
"Go straight forward to the beach, the house painted blue beside the big cliff."
You smiled. "Thanks, have a nice day." And continued to drive, but not before hearing a new voice, you assume belonged to the short, stock one who haven't said a thing:
"Ohhhh, cat got your tongue, P? Or is it R-"
"AMETHYST!"
Holding back a snicker, you continued your journey, contemplating if 'have a nice day' in this case would be too ironic.
A frown etched in your face when you remember your talk with your boss this morning. You don't have what it takes to become a designer, not without any social skills. His words repeated over and over in your head, saying the same thing:
"Why don't you move to the outskirt, uh…Nikki? It would help you with socializing. I'd recommend Beach City for you."
Your name is not Nikki. And when he meant 'recommend', he meant 'settle your ass down there whats-her-name or I'll fire you' kind of 'recommend'. You know what he meant by that. So there you are, in front of your new definitely small house with nice blue paint, like the teenager has said, with absolutely no emotion whatsoever about this whole new idea. Better get ready for the storm.
Enjoy it while you can.
A/n: Why hello this is the author, apparently a talking llama. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for clicking the title of this humble story ((This is an OC-insert story, but you got to be the OC, surprise surprise)). I will try to keep it as precise as possible, but some change will have to be made to fit in the AU. Til' the next time we meet again!
Disclaimer: I do not own Steven Universe, all of the amazing work goes to Rebecca Sugar, the creator of the TV show.