Hello again, It has been long, and I'm technically not back. But I had a few things from 4chan that I wrote down and I thought it prudent to put them here.

I'll have 3 maybe 4 more stories in the coming weeks. Some are stupid, some are not. Some are horny, some are less horny.

This one is neither horny nor stupid. Enjoy

I do not own Steven Universe, Steven Universe is a myth perpetuated by big gay to push Sucrose's agenda for world domination.

Rosebud

Mina's diner, open from forever to whenever. A large gentleman sits closer to the back, a cup-a-joe steaming in his sallow hands, his head a mop of untamed curls framing Greco-Italian features, eyes small and brown with rings around them. He's wearing a dress shirt that's lightly stained along with dress pants covered in dirt, his knuckles ache in the cold, stale air of the diner and bruises mar his body in ways felt but not seen.

"Mister." He looked up to see the waitress standing over him.

"Do ya wanna fresh cup?" she said, her eyes passive and cool, his appearance hadn't bothered her in the slightest when he came in and it wasn't bothering her now. He admired that about her, she'd probably seen dozens of guys who looked like hell every night and she never passed open judgment.

."No, ma'am, I think I'm done here." His baritone voice came from within, with a hint of vulnerability about him as he retrieved his wallet from his coat hanging on the back of his seat.

He used his credit card, he didn't like carrying cash nowadays, the waitress took it and walked off as he got ready to leave. He stood, a height of 6"8 belaying his rotund frame, baby fat leftover from the old days. He slipped on his jacket and made his way to the front door, watching his Dord Explorer from the window to make sure it was unmolested. Stopping in front of the counter as his waitress rang him up, he looked about the diner, it was empty save for her, which suited him just fine considering the timing.

"7.45 is your total," she said, slipping him a receipt to sign.

"Thank you for the coffee, ma'am," He said, his voice small despite his frame.

He signs it quickly and flees the restaurant into the 3 am air, The waitress took the check back and regarded it with mirth.

"What kinda name is Universe, anyhow?"

Steven felt the chill of midwestern air wash over him as he stepped into it. Above him, a single light played host to a hundred flying insects, everything else was cloaked in darkness. Though he knew he was surrounded by cornfields.

The parking lot of the diner had been empty when he pulled in and remained emptier still now that he's leaving, it must be a slow night. As he walked to his car he felt the hair on his neck stand up, just then a cop car broke the darkness around them with its headlights.

"Oh, sweet Christ no."

A woman stepped out of the car and slipped on a wide-brimmed Sherrif's hat, as they passed each other, she regarded him with a queer look.

"Mornin', sir," she said, her accent breaking through though she seemed to be trying to hide it.

"Morning, officer," Steven answered, trying to make his voice as small as possible.

She looked him up and down and he remembered how he looked.

"I'm sorry for how I look, ma'am, I've just had a rough night." he offered.

Her gaze softened at his tone.

"Anything I should know about, sir?" she asked softly.

"No ma'am, we both walked away from it." he said. "and I probably won't see the guy ever again."

That was a lie. All things considered, he would have to see Frank again on Monday when he picked him up from the penthouse.

"Mhmm." The officer responded. "Well, you just take care of yourself out here, mister. Our town has a few rough bodies but we're good people."

"Thank you, ma'am. I feel a lot better now that you've checked on me," he said genuinely.

She gives him a sly look and her tone is playful

"Well aren't you just a charmer? and so polite."

"My... Aunts would kill me if I were any other way." he joked.

And they shared a laugh at that, right next to his car.

Right next to his trunk.

Right next to the dead woman rolled in a tarp.

That little bit of theatre over with, Steven drove down Route 70. He knew he was somewhere around Lubbock and thought that around here would be just fine, he pulled his car far off the road, into the bush, and turned off his headlights.

He waited for a bit, casing just how much traffic this particular road got before he felt comfortable. It was 26 mins without visible activity when he turned off his engine and sat back in his seat.

He looked outside the car, he'd driven into a ditch of sorts and while there were streetlights overhead, they were a dim orange in the morning.

Just perfect.

He opened his glove compartment and retrieved a pair of large leather gloves. He undid his tie and took off his shirt, setting them in the passenger seat next to an emergency shovel and Rosie. As he put on the gloves, he regarded Rosie wondering whether or not he'd need her, especially out here. Erring on the side of safety, he slid Rosie out of her holster and deposited her in his waistband, the snub-nosed .40 was company property but he'd had her for going on 6 years and won't part with her now.

He started to get out of his car when the telltale sound of an engine blared into his mind, he sat deep in his seat as the guy sped past, he probably hadn't seen Steven and wasn't stopping to investigate.

35 uninterrupted minutes of silence and someone chooses now to scare the shit out of him.

"I'm so fucking tired of all this."

He decided he'd put in his two weeks on Monday.

Getting out, he quickly made his way to his trunk, barely stopping to check his surroundings, opening it, he saw her.

Her face was covered but he saw her clear as day, she'd been beautiful before she died, dainty features contorted in deathly horror, He'd wanted to save her of course, he always wanted to save them whenever he saw it.

But it never worked, no matter where he placed his spit.

He didn't know how to cure an overdose.

He'd thought about carrying a syringe of spit with him but it would evaporate over time, and after Lars, He hadn't resurrected anyone for fear of leaving a trail of pink people leading back to Beach city.

He hefted the girl in his arms and looked around, confirming there were no observers, he kicked off his slip-ons, walked forward a bit, bent his knees, and disappeared into that morning air. He surveyed the land, looking for a good spot to land and found it, far enough away from the road but not so far that he was on anyone's property if the houses in the distance were any indication. If he did this right he'd have a start on the hole he has to dig too.

Shifting his weight, his body became stone and he was sent careening into the earth.

With a crash, the world broke underneath him and gave way leaving a small crater where he stood about 4 feet deep, dirt and rock kicking up beside him. He stood, shaking the dirt off of him and out of his hair.

He got to work quickly, placing the body out of the hole and retrieving the shovel from its clip on his belt, it unfolded quickly enough and he was underway. While he dug, he thought on this night's events and what led him to be burying a body at 4 am.

He was contracted out to this security company in Dallas, some "Cushy" job babysitting rich kids and foreign nationals. And it was an upgrade from the shitwork he'd been doing a year prior, If you had told him 10 years ago he'd be the muscle of any kind for illegal activity of any sort, he would have politely asked you to stop fucking around. Now, he can't imagine there is something he hasn't done besides outright murder. Even that year he spent as an escort in a different sense of the word.

His new boss, Frank Jr, was a rough little bastard with no regard for anyone or himself, It was a miracle he hadn't died already with all the shit he got into, the other guys in this detail were as new as he was, the old guard had quit. And as he slid the body into the ground, now he knew why.

He stood over her.

She, Frank, and like 20 other groupies had been doing blow, Steven was sitting near the door when the screaming started. He rushed back to see a school circle of retards standing around a dying girl, he pinged for his colleagues to bring him the Naloxone while he started CPR.

"HOW MUCH DID SHE TAKE!?" He remembered yelling.

"I DUNNO, IT WAS A CONTEST!" Frank answered.

His guys found them but by then it was too late, her little heart was working overtime and was about to clock out. Thinking quickly, Steve scooped the girl up and the detail pulled Frank along with them, leaving the party stunned as someone stayed behind to make sure they stayed quiet. He was in the emergency stairway when everyone caught up to him.

"Steve! Wait!" James, a tall man from the Florida isles called after him.

"WAIT FOR FUCKING WHAT? WE'VE GOT TO GET THIS GIRL TO A HOSPITAL!" Steven bellowed, eyes wide with terror.

James, who was normally laid back, fixed him with a steel gaze. "Steve, she's gone."

Steven blinked for a second, before looking down to see the glassy-eyed girl in his arms, she felt like she weighed a ton so he put her down on the landing as everyone stood around.

"Damn, man, what a fuckin' bummer." Frank broke the silence.

Steven felt the skin on his face contort into a wicked snarl as he pushed past everyone to hoist Frank up by his neck one-handed.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE JUNKIE, WE TOLD YOU TO LAY OFF THAT SHIT, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED!" Steven said as Frank Jr gasped for air. "LOOK AT HER, YOU BASTARD!" Steven felt the hits on his back and the arms tugging at his grip, but his gaze was locked to Frank Jr's purple face. He wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes as they drained from this girl, or the last, or the one before her.

There'd always be some girl dying at Frank's feet when he went off the wagon.

"STEVE, LET HIM GO OR WE'LL PUT YOU DOWN!"

James and the rest had drawn their guns and had them aimed squarely at Steven, Steven weighed his options at that moment, his skin had proven resistant to gunfire, but not at close range.

All it took was a shot to his eye or in his mouth to put him out.

He knew that for sure.

So he dropped the mistake and stood back, hands raised as they kept their weapons trained on him. He looked down at the prone girl, she hadn't moved since he put her down.

Frank Jr gasped for air for minutes until he spoke.

"What da fucks your problem?" he slurred. "This ain't even the first fucking time!"

"Franky, Stow it." James quickly chided him. "Steve, you're out of line. Apologize."

Steven looked at James, his eyes glow with a pink tint.

"What?" was all Steven could say.

James must have seen where the wind was blowing because he held his hand up and swept it down twice, causing the rest of the men to relax and he followed suit. He approached Steven slowly.

"Frank is our boss, I understand how you feel, but your feelings are getting in the way of the job. If you apologize we can put this behind us."

"Sorry?" Steven said incredulously, "This junkie almost kills people every other weekend with his foolishness and you want me to be sorry?" Everyone stood still, most of the guys hadn't addressed it, but it was starting to fray their nerves as well, but James was resolute.

"Yes. I want you to apologize to Mr. Monroe," he said simply.

Steven stood over the hole, it was deep, he'd laid her in it comfortably enough and the sun was starting to peek over the hill. He'd just said a few words for her, and apologized to her instead of Frank Jr.

Frank Jr and a few of the guys will be nursing hurts tonight, Steve can admit that James's statement had…. Inflamed his already peaked temper. But nobody is hurting more tonight than this little girl, than her parents.

She was the one who deserved an apology. OD'ing in a stairwell and buried in an unmarked grave was no way for a young woman to go- for anyone to go. But he made his peace and started to coat his dirty hand in spit.

He touched his right hand to the ground and asked God to help him, And, like magic, the ground began to roll back into itself, displaced rock and dirt rolling from meters away to return to whence it came.

In thirty seconds, the hole was filled, a small rose sprouting from the dirt in the middle of the mound, but as Steven turned to walk back to his car, The rose withered and died almost instantly.

Yeesh, fuckin downer right? But yeah, I'll be posting my works from pastebin here, along with any re-edited greentexts I do. Stay frosty fuckers. Pat out.