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the-moon-files · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm kinda new here but I was hoping to leave a request or at least something to chew on. So there's this genshin sagau where the reader has a bit of a language barrier with the other characters and I was wondering if that translated over to the Linked Universe as well? Like imagine the boys finding this random person with different clothes, accessories, and they talk in a language never before heard of? What are they, some kind of eldritch being? Meanwhile reader recognizes them obviously but frustratingly can't express any feelings asides from base concepts! Man.

Some funnies include; reader voicing more thoughts out loud now that no one can really understand them and reader eventually learning the language and getting a really sick accent out of it.

That's all my tired brain can think of atm so I bid you adieu. Have a good rest of your day :)

First Official Request!! :D oh and its amazinggg, ooOOO a language barrier AU, genshin? hm wonder who wrote that

Reader wasn’t specified and ive adopted masc!reader as the normal over here, so masc reader it is 👍

Sun: Masc/Male Reader (”you”/he/him)

Orbit: EXTRA LONG Headcanons-ish/scenarios SORRY 😭, Language Barrier AU my beloved

Stars: The Classic Chain of Links <3

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, typical mild loz violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

so for the sake of even funnier confusion, lets say the boys kinda missed u falling thru a portal, and instead just see the portal, and it disappears w/nothing coming out

(bc u obv are a competent person and clearly recognize the giant horse head stable from Breath of the Wild and went inside, like to orient urself, u will NOT be a Y/N damsel in distress 💀)

the boys had already been heading to that stable to sleep for the night, and needless to say, u nearly have a fit LMAO

first, the Hero of Time walks in, then the Link from Hyrule Warriors, then from Link’s Awakening? Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom Link?? Wind Waker Link, Four Sword Link??? The original Legend of Zelda Link-!!!!

well at least u arent the only weirdly dressed person there

(well, u arent weird looking for the hylians in the stable, theyre used to this weird shit, but the Chain of heroes on the other hand…)

they get to observing their bunkmates for the night, subtly squinting at you, then turning to talk to each other, and slowly every link gets made aware of ur prescense, u didnt think u stood out that bad..

(”くいんねしらんらなすいそらきみについちみんらはかくちかまいていりすんはすらもんらなすいすち・”) *

it also quickly becomes obvious to every traveler in the stable that you either cant speak, or wont speak, as when ur exchanging money for rupees at the front desk, the owner is accommodating with you by pointing and grunting and ur just nodding and pointing back

well, its not like when u first greeted the guy u understood even a single thing the guy said, it sounded like some sub-dialect of Japanese or something

u had realized earlier with horror that the game was staying true to its creators, and that most likely everyone spoke a special version of Japanese and ur English ass was abt to be so lonely and confused 😭

Wars/Time/Sky/Four in particular clearly noticed u exchanging all ur currency, as u can see them whispering or glancing at you occasionally as u pocket ur now little green gems the size of coins, rather than strip of paper

(”しにしくいまなとかるるるみらかくちひいすなせいいと・てくらしらいとみゃかくちひいすなせいいと・かくちかくちとみゃかすいちりりんそくちみきいしらひいすかくいいすちとねくちとにかてにりし・”)

and the boys move on in the morning, and its acc torture for u bc u had no idea how to even begin to quell their suspicions enough to let you travel along with them

u think u could say u came out a portal, but.. how would tell them that? drawing pictures in the dirt?? 💀

and this just keeps happening.

even when u just try to admire from a distance or even outright just leave them to it and go off to explore Hyrule (as safe as u could after acquiring a weapon and some more clothes)

but its like fate (or maybe Hylia tbh) wants u to run into these legendary heroes (both kinda in ur world and definitely here) constantly

after the stable u manage to run into them in Kakariko Village, which wasnt crazy bc u needed more supplies, and it was the nearest town to the stable

ur sure they noticed, but u outright avoided them out of paranoia or making them paranoid u were following them, and u definitely saw who you thought was the hero of the Four Sword whisper about u as u walked by, not that u caught much

(”るるるかくちかゃとかくいとちもいとかすちみきいほりららのにみききなんはすらもかくいとかちこりいるていとくらなりしのいいせちみいんいらみくにもる”)

but you’d started to recognize some Japanese words! …and tbh anime is the only reason for that, something definitely like “watch, him” 💀

which rlly didnt make u feel any better, and u avoided them even harder, u bought a map, so u made sure to head in the opposite direction of them out of, lets be honest, kinda lowkey fear of what theyd do if they thought u were stalking them

but despite u trying to actively go away from them, either you, or them, would show up everywhere the other went,

you passed by Wind playing in the water in Zora’s Domain,

Twilight riding Epona around the plains in Central Hyrule, Sky hanging laundry outside Wild’s house in Hateno

Honest-to-fucking-god seeing Wars, Wild, and Legend all crossdress to sneak into Gerudo village- u cant fucking escape them-

and the worst part is, you cant understand anyone, other than some basic words atp 😭

its as the Chain come from a path that merges onto yours on the way to Rito Village when Legend snaps first

You’re not even surprised, tbh it was more surprising it took them so long 💀

(”にかゃとんらな!! ちきちにみ!!! てくんちすぃんらなはらりりらてにみきなと・くらてちすぃんらなはらりりらてにみきなと・・くらてちすぃてぃはらりりらてにみきんらな・・!!”)

the look on ur face must have drawn some pity from Twilight bc he’s trying to talk Legend out of his yelling and pointing his sword at you,

(”ひいかそちりもしらてみ! りにのいんらなとちにしねにかくにみのていゃひいちりとらとらもいくらてこいいみはらりりらてにみきかくいもからら!”)

Wars joins in, giving you a confused look, before talking to the group at large, most of which have their hands near their weapons, but dont look that inclined to use them, thank the fucking gods or whoever rules over Hyrule-

(”かくいすちみそくいすくちとちせらにみかねかくにとすいいのとらはもちきにそちみしにゃもとなすいにかゃとくんりにちゃとしらにみきるていとくらなりしまなとかかすんからかちりのからかくいもねといいに�� かくいんゃすいいさせいすにいみそにみきちみんかくにみきとかすちみきいる”)

oh no. they want to talk you, you barely picked out in their argument

Time nods in agreement, before stepping forward to talk first, you cant even imagine how anxious u look rn lol

(”かくいらかくいすとちすいすにきくかねかくにとにとりらみきらひいすしないるもんみちもいにとかにもいねちみしかくいといちすいもんかすちひいりにみきそらもせちみにらみとねちとにゃもとなすいんらなゃひいきちかくいすいしはすらもなとすなみみにみきにみからいちそくらかくいすとらもなそくるてくちかゃとんらなすみちもい・”)

why has Hylia forsaken you. what did you do to not receive some sort of fancy natural translator power in ur brain or something after getting portaled here, its the least she could do for fucks sake- talking to someone in a diff. language is SO much harder than just listening to them to understand what theyre saying-

you desperately try to recall the words people have said at stables and whatnot when introducing themselves, before they realized you couldnt speak the same language

(”Uh… もんみちもいにと… and I’m not following you…とらすすん”)

you just try to say ur name and then say sorry LMAO 😭

Nearly every Link is staring at you bug-eyed in shock, confusion, and understanding all at once

the Chain’s attitude changes pretty quick after that, and they quickly connect the dots after, yes, u do a drawing of a portal in the dirt 💀

u gather from the few words u can get that it was indeed magic (probably Hylia) that kept shortcutting you and the group of heroes together over and over again

…

she can move your position in space time and yet she cant get u an auto-translator after being forced to be here.

(in the middle of u drawing to communicate Hyrule manages to understand the gist of what you meant by that and laughs)

the Chain are quick to be very accomdating, Wars/Sky/Wild all offering to try and better teach u their language, but in return they want to learn yours?

actually, that was smth u noticed pretty early on in the ensuing weeks of travel, was the fascination they had w/English and ur voice??

Wind constantly rambled at you and poked and smiled at you to try and get you to ramble back, and after getting more comfortable around them,

u start to talk like they cant understand a word ur saying, which is entirely accurate, and you notice some like to lean in when you talk, or respond with humming/saying smth like u can understand, or even just gesture for u to keep going

Four/Time/Legend?? surprisingly/Hyrule/Twilight like when u get rlly talkative like ur having a one-sided convo w/them all the time, and they constantly are looking at you poinetedly to hear u narrate whatever ur doing or give a response whenever they same something at you (Rulie/Four/Twi/ and sometimes Time, (and he turns away but Legend too) give a little smile whenever you ramble)

Wild is Very Interested in your langauage, bc the Zora, Rito, Gerudo, and Gorons all had their native tongue that he ended up learning, and so he constantly makes notes to try and decipher some of what ur saying in English

he lights up anytime ur able to successfully tell him another something abt it, like the alphabet, or grammar or structure etc

they seem to pay attention esp in the mornings or late at night? ur not sure why until Wind both draw pictures and tries to get the general idea to you to explain

(”かくいんゃすいちりりきちんるんらなすちそそいみかにとくらかちみしんらなすひらにそいにとしいいせるかくいんゃすいていちのる”)

smth abt ur voice being nice? deep? but theirs do that too? u dont get it, but thank him anyway

they also help u out at markets, keep out of trouble w/locals, and other misc tasks that need some language help

everythings going great, the Chain trusts you, ur getting better at their language every day, and bc English is one of the hardest languages to learn in the world, theyre slowly getting some of urs!

it isnt until ur camping out in the Temple of Time when things get weird again

Not only is there English carved into the walls, which u read as the Chain give u “explain now” looks and u communicate that the rlly ancient looking script they may or may not be able to read is, in fact, the written version of ur language-

but then another portal opens, and there’s sentences wrapped around the edges, which are fully in English too.

☆

* = hint: JIS

So i love ciphers for language barrier AUs, so have a cypher! have fun decoding it if u like, but don’t worry abt translating it, as its purposefully not important for u to enjoy this :)

JFC IM SO SORRY AB THE LENGTH I WROTE THIS FROM MIDNIGHT TO LIKE 1:30 AM- UGH sometimes this happens when i get on a scenario kick, SORRY 😭😭

also so sorry abt late reply! at least i already established im slow w/u guys so ig its not a huge surprise 😭

tysm for the request it was such a fun idea to write abt :D

i also like genshin, just a little bit u could say, so it was cool to see this carryover across fandoms lol

language barrier is so versatile, could be angst, crack, etc. so that makes sense

have a great weekend!!

Peace out,

🌙

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mumms-the-word · 7 months ago

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he is enough

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got. ao3 link

———

He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.

An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.

All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.

And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.

Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.

fingers grazing along your back the kiss at the corner of your mouth his heartbeat under your palm calm, steady, quiet

You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.

his lines around his eyes between his brows the curve of his lips the length of his nose the sweep of his hair silver-threaded a hint of divinity among the mundane just like him

Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.

his self-conscious smile halfway between arrogance and doubt arrogance of his knowledge doubt in your interest the way he looks off toward the horizon when his thoughts take him to planes you can scarcely comprehend the way his eyes find their way back to you the instant he hears your voice or feels your touch you, like the Dog Star, guiding him home again

He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet.

But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.

your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit

He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.

But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.

the steam that curls into the air

over the worn mug that holds his tea the one missing its handle the way his hand cradles the cup and turns it just so that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim he's done this a hundred times before and yet you watch mesmerized

"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.

Just as he is.

You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.

a man mortal and aching but kind and sweet open-handed brimming with love just a man a good man whose heart and soul calls to your own just a man who doesn't need to do anything or be anyone more than who he already is because he is enough

You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.

But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.

He is already enough.

He will always be enough.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #my fic #don't come for me for the not good poetry lol #i like some of it and some of it I'm like ehhhh idk if that's good #but i've been working on it for a few days now #so maybe i just have been staring at it too long #first person to make a ken/kenough joke is getting smacked

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crowleys-bentley-and-plants · 3 months ago

Text

North Star

Your freckles form constellations upon your face

A map of stars that time cannot erase.

I trace the sky across your skin so fair,

And I long to kiss each star that's shining there.

Your eyes, like planets, drive me ever near

Orbiting your gaze, I find my anchor here.

Your touch, a comet’s trail across my heart

Sparks the fire in every shadowed part.

Your presence, like the sun’s eternal glow,

Warms the coldest corners of my soul.

Your smile, like stardust, sparkles in the night,

Casting a gleam that makes everything alright.

And even in the expanse where no sound should be

Your voice finds a way to comfort me.

In this universe, so vast and far,

You are my guiding light, my northern star.

guysguysguysguys have i mentioned how much i love freckles. have i mentioned that. this poem was initially only about them but then i was like hold on. because astronomy imagery slaps so hard. so yea. im not really satisfied with it tho but that's ok

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated💙

ao3 link if you wanna leave a comment there? :)

bonjourrrr @crowleys-hips @bearthewhipsandscornsoftime @fearandhatred @ghostsparrow @eybefioro @seven-stars-in-his-palm @ficreader500 @foolishlovers @sabotage-on-mercury @crowleys-curl @crowleybrekkers @goodomensafterdark @notagoodlad @lickthecowhappy @goodoldfashionednightingale @spookyllamatree @wanderer-main @ineffabildaddy @marika-misc @captainblou @weasleywrinkles @chaoticgayomens @amagnificentobsession @thebookshoparoundthecorner @quintessentiallychemical @naturallyteal

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens poem #good omens poetry #original poem #original poetry #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #go2

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sweetredbeans · 5 months ago

Text

i still fall for you (like suns do for skies)

My piece for @sthbigbang! It was delightful to work with such talented artists as @encodedkismet, @spiritofrainbursts and @superemeralds! Links to their gorgeous art pieces are at the end of the story! (Yes I will be finishing updating everyone's links as stuff gets posted!)

Comet: definition: a celestial object consisting of a nucleus of ice and dust and, when near the sun, a “tail” of gas and dust particles pointing away from the sun.

Star: definition: a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

...

He should have known. Dammit, he should have known, from that very first moment, that very first instant in time that he saw him, how it would end.

The way it always had to, the way it always would.

It would end the same way that it began.

I push my feet

To the edge

I look and I face my world

This lonely scene, I take it in

It's hard to say where all of it begins

And I end

Sonic was a comet. A block of ice hurtling through mostly empty space, originating from somewhere beyond the reaches of imagination and flying at unimaginable speeds towards nothing, forever.

That was how it had always been.

True, he would admit that from time to time he had some satellites–Tails, the golden fox twisting and turning like a spark across his endless skies, a shooting star that couldn’t possibly exist in the depths of space and yet he did–unique and impossible. Amy, a burst of violet and rose on the distant horizon, the creation of a new galaxy that called to him, promising a life, a future of stability and tranquility that his chaotic flight would never be able to enjoy. Knuckles, a strong, steadfast planet wandering his own universe and finding his own way in the distant parallel.

None of them could ever keep up. None of them could fully thaw his frozen heart, melt him to his icy core, race him to the edge of the universe in perfect stride, step for step, beat for beat. He was the Blue Blur, the Cerulean Phantom, running solo, free and alone, forever and ever, his only true companions the feeling of the earth beneath the soles of his feet, and the glitter of stars in the endless expanse over his head. He was part of the world, and the world was part of him, and everyone else was just a blip, a splash of color whipping by at speeds that no one else could even comprehend.

In his own orbit, he was alone. A solitary glitter of life sprinkled across an empty universe. And that's how it had always been.

And I waited for the sky to change

But, oh, it never did

And I almost dropped my head

And lost my faith

At least outsmarting GUN had been fun, a quick distraction from the monotony. That's how these things went every time: each adventure was a grand new opportunity that always fell short. Nothing could ever truly challenge his abilities. Leaping off a helicopter, skateboarding down city streets, even fighting that mech—it was all so basic that it barely left his heart pumping, barely made his blood flow through his veins. But it was all that he had, when the rest of the world very often felt so dull and lifeless.

Sonic scuffed the sole of his red shoe on the ground, listening to the way the specialized rubber scraped against the asphalt, before glancing up. The night was hidden here, among the great gray and brown-clad buildings stretching into the skies, their marching rows of rectangular fluorescent lights the only stars that were visible. Never changing, powered from dawn to dusk and round again—no twinkle to them unless Sonic tilted his head back and forth, letting the shadows and walls take one light or another from him. He was the only one who could make a change to his world.

Then I saw you from a distance

You were worlds away

Oh, but you had me from the vision

I never looked away

Again

Then. Then, there was someone there. Someone else.

Someone new.

A galaxy.

A star.

A sun.

It didn't matter that the true stars were obscured: Sonic could see them all, every one of them, here reflected in front of him in oil-dark, ink-black fur. Here was an emptiness, a lack of matter, a black hole straight into space ignoring all laws of physics and reality because he just could. And that red—streaks of blood, of life, flowing through his space, glinting ruby-bright eyes that wouldn't look at him: chaos he wanted this stellar being to look at him. Wanted to be broken apart, cracked open, the glittering inside pieces laid bare streaming behind him worth it to taste the heat of the sun. And this was his sun.

His star was saying words, but Sonic's ears didn't process them, his mind far too preoccupied. Stars didn't speak—they sang, songs so old and distant that no one living could understand the words. His star was singing too, and perhaps, possibly, if he concentrated, if he focused, maybe he could grasp a single thread of that tune, hold it tight forever in his heart, know it intimately until one day he could understand the meaning behind the melody. The truth behind the tune. The soul behind the song.

Only a flash of green, bright and distracting, so very much of this world and none other brought him out of his dream and back into the present moment, “That's the...chaos emerald!”

No...no...his dreams were nothing more than pleasant distracting fantasies. This was no sun, no star. Just a fake hedgehog, another threat to the world, to their way of life, and, of course, it was Sonic's job to stop him.

It would be so easy, of course. Too easy, always too easy. Sonic almost sighed; just another routine, another set of hoops to jump through to avoid whatever shenanigans the world was trying to draw him into, be it from GUN or Eggman or this strange new hedgehog brandishing the chaos emerald like he was someone worthy of its power.

He could be...a star was worthy of that power. A great ball of plasma containing the ability to spring new life into existence, or the ability to destroy the very fabric of reality—perhaps this hedgehog was a star, after all. Chaos, Sonic longed for a star, a fixed point to return home to on his long travels, a spot where he was always welcomed, always loved...

But no, no he was a comet, that was how it was, and he didn't know where such thoughts of being in orbit were coming from. He was free, he was alone, and yet there was somehow no way that he could ever look away and escape from this brilliant crimson glow ever again.

“Now I know what's going on! The military has mistaken me for the likes of you!” How could they have mistaken him, a dim, distant block of ice, for this radiant point of light?

His star looked at him, with eyes the color of blood, of lava, of the heartbeat of the earth itself, and Sonic willed himself not to care, not to crumble, not to prostrate himself before a god of the very universe itself.

“So...where do you think you're going with that emerald?” Nothing. No response, no liquid song voice; he needed to hear it, he needed to understand! “Say something! You fake hedgehog!”

He did. He sang, “Chaos control!”

And Sonic's heart soared.

...

He was fast.

He was as fast as Sonic—even if it was just that he was using the chaos emerald to warp, Sonic couldn't remember the last time he'd fought someone who dodged him that quickly on the first attack. Who looked back at him like that, with a smirk that knew it was superior. He could feel the energy radiating from his doppelganger now that they were fighting, a perfect resonance to his own—gravity rippling the fabric of spacetime itself, pulling him closer, tugging him into orbit around nothing less than a giant. Staring into the beauty that would rip him apart and leave him as nothing more than a streak of light across a distant sky.

Sonic felt the world get emptier when the other hedgehog vanished, leaving him alone again to once again face G.U.N.'s paltry wrath.

Shadow. The world's ultimate life form.

His star.

I still fall for you

Like suns do for skies

Cerulean

Pouring in from your eyes

“Pffft, no, what are you talking about, I'm not in love with Shadow! I mean, c'mon that's crazy, right? Cuz, I mean, we just met anyways—nobody here even ever saw him before he showed up to steal that chaos emerald the other day while pretending to be me! The fact that we keep running into each other is just coincidence: of course we'd meet on Prison Island, since he was there to steal stuff for Egghead and I was there to fix stuff and it's only natural that we'd fight and then he'd run away after I totally beat him, and I definitely didn't think about running after him to see where he was going and follow him because I never want him out of my sight again, nah that'd be crazy, right? Hahahahah yeah it totally would...just like it's crazy to think about how beautiful the stars would be reflected in his eyes...red shouldn't be the color of space; space is black, right? Red's a color out of space—but he's a star, of course he'd be a red giant. All the best stars are red giants, aren't they? Betelgeuse, Aldebaran, Antares, Arcturus...so maybe it makes sense. But, y'know I'm totally not obsessed with him or thinking about what star he'd be or anything...”

“Uhhhh...Sonic?” Tails' voice cut through Sonic's rambling and the blue hedgehog immediately stopped, his hands frozen where they had been gesturing wildly to the empty air.

“...yeah?”

The yellow fox gave a sideways glance at Amy and Knuckles, who were both staring too, mouths slightly ajar, “I, uh...I don't think anyone asked that. We just wanted to know where to go next.”

A short beat of silence before Sonic cleared his throat.

“Oh, yeah, heheheh, that makes sense,” the blue hedgehog made an expression that could be a grimace or a grin, as he ran his hand nervously through his quills before glancing up at the skies above him, “Well...space, I think. That's where...that's where they'd be. That's where Shadow belongs.”

That's where all stars belonged.

Just a hollow moon that you colorized

So powerful

I feel so small

But so alive

Like watching the Earthrise

He'd never tried to harness chaos energy before—not like this. But he knew how Shadow's energy felt when they'd clashed—he'd memorized the fluctuations, the rhythm and beat of his rival's existence resonating with his every breath. So here, in the tiny space capsule falling towards his imminent death, he closed his eyes and remembered it.

He remembered how to be a star.

And somehow it worked.

“You never cease to surprise me, blue hedgehog. I thought that capsule you were in exploded in space.” His star. His star, not even attacking him now, not lashing out at him but merely here, walking beside him. If they both reached their hands out, they could link their pinkie fingers together, an unspoken promise, a silent bond. Sonic felt his heart stutter, but kept his voice nonchalant.

“You know, what can I say...I die hard!” But he could tell the truth; he couldn't lie to his star, couldn't hesitate to tell him, “You actually saved me, you know.” The golden gem gleamed in his hand, its energy a paltry reflection of its true cousins, but still vibrant in its own right.

“It was a chaos emerald, wasn't it? But there's no way you could have activated chaos control using an emerald that's fake!”

Of course he couldn't. It was against the laws of this universe, completely out of the realm of possibility, but for his star, he would do it again and again. For his star, he would reach through the bowels of a black hole to another universe and bring back the haunted dust of a million galaxies if he only asked.

The corridor walls blurred together: somehow, they were running. Neither of them knew when they had started, but they were—they had to be, it was in their nature. They couldn't stand still, neither of them, they had to run, had to feel the world moving around them.

“So there's more to you than just looking like me. What are you anyway?”

A comet. Your comet.

But he couldn't say that. He could never tell, “What you see is what you get! Just a guy that loves adventure. I'm Sonic the Hedgehog!” It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

“I see. But you know, I can't let you live.” Of course he couldn't. Suns didn't let comets live. Comets came to bask in their glow...and died in their arms.

They said that we both were too different

That all of the shine would fade away

But I wish that I never listened

'Cause you pulled me through the grey

Sonic didn't care what Tails had said; he didn't need to heed the yellow fox's warning. He'd never felt like this before. Not with anyone.

They were perfectly in sync. Golden fur glowing, liquid ruby eyes shining, power thrumming through their hearts and blood, they were both suns. Even if one was only a reflection of the other, who could tell when they were so close, so bright that it hurt to look at them. They were truly stars now, a perfect binary in orbit around each other, balanced in exquisite harmony. Every nonexistent breath of nonexistent air matched, every motion was coordinated like they'd been fighting in tandem for years, decades, centuries. Time was immaterial, because they were made of the fabric of the universe. They were never ending, a perfect dance, a perfect song flowing through Sonic's heart. Despite the severity of the situation he never wanted it to end.

They were perfect.

They were partners.

And for the first time...Sonic felt like he could see the world in color. He could see the beauty of the universe painted across the vault of heaven before him. He could see the reasons that people had for living, not just existing but living...he had seen colors before, the splashes of his friends across his oblivion of endless obsidian skies, but they had come and gone, faded before he'd even noticed them.

This was different—this was a reshaping of the very fundamental building blocks of his world. This was color in the way that the first daffodil of spring is, the ripple of a fish in a pond, the streak of a meteor, the flaming foliage of early autumn.

This was life.

I still fall for you

Like suns do for skies

Cerulean

Pouring in from your eyes

Just a hollow moon that you colorized

So powerful

I feel so small

But so alive

He saw Shadow's decision reflected in his eyes, painted across every inch of sky and stars. He could feel the pull of energy, his partner's wavelength out of sync now, his frequency decreasing.

“Shadow! Shadow!!!!”

His entire universe turned to look at him, and he felt the core of his being shake at the expression in his eyes. The resignation to an end far too early.

“I have to make them happy.”

“But...” Sonic bit back his response, What about making ME happy...he knew what the answer would be. He always knew what the answer would be.

And then there was no more time “CHAOS CONTROL”.

The energy he'd felt vibrating in his soul since the first moment he'd seen Shadow snapped, springing back on him as he left and Shadow...didn't. Separated, broken apart, the comet flung from the orbit of the star by a collision with a force that neither of them could have predicted and tossed away towards...towards...

Sonic couldn't look away. He couldn't.

I walk these streets of loneliness

A tranquil sea on all horizons

This empty scene of might-have-beens

I stare at starless skies

That call to me and I still wish

He could see it.

Their future.

Their “might-have-beens.”

(I still wish)

He could see himself alone. Forever. The world slowly falling back into gray as he watched the never-ending stars shift around an empty planet.

There were sunflowers here. A forest of them, bobbing their golden heads against cerulean skies, mimicking in their own way the world itself. Sonic was shorter than them, their stems stretching far above his head as he walked the endless forest of them, searching for something he'd lost and would never find again.

A shape, a figure, a shadow darting through the green stems ahead of him—he was following them, always following, but he could never catch up, never quite make out their form any more than an obscure shade.

At his feet, a perfect flower, plucked from its stem. Golden symmetrical harmony in every petal. The minute he touched it, it crumbled to dust at his fingertips, blowing away on the wind.

His voice called after it, but only once; he felt blood well in his throat at the raspy croak, cracked and broken from hours, days, years of calling the exact same thing, and never once receiving an answer.

(I still wish)

He could see them standing apart, facing each other. They didn't know each other any more, but somehow the battlefield was familiar, the players the same for another round. The tables reset, the game restarted, another chance in another life.

“It'll be a date to die for.”

“Hey! That's my line!”

He could see an invasion, a devastation on the scale that none had ever imagined—even he couldn't stand against it, falling to his knees in the face of oblivion, but somehow, at the end, there was Shadow. There was the star, the sun, his golden glow shining out against a blood-red sky, and taking the power he had been too weak to use before to end the war before it even began.

Shadow, his star, saved them all, taming the power that had once burned him out and turning it against his very creators, all for the sake of their world. Sonic stared up at him with awe and adoration, but Shadow never looked at him.

Not even once.

(I still wish)

He could see a shattered universe, a disaster created by his own audacity and hubris. His friends and enemies mere shells of their former selves, taunting him with possibilities and “might have beens” as he worked, piecing them back together even as the broken remains of the world drew farther apart, fading and flickering towards oblivion. He risked losing it all, losing everything—not just his true friends but these new versions as well.

But Shadow was there, watching over him: guiding his footsteps, and, at the very end, catching him when he fell.

Shadow saved him. Shadow always saved him.

(I still wish)

But best of all, he could see them dancing, like this, forever. The space above the planet becoming their domain, their place to stand and watch over the world below. They would count the stars together, naming them one by one and hanging them into their constellations, holding each one close until the day they went out, disappearing with a whisper or a nova bright enough to light up the entire night sky, leaving a mark on the skin of space that could be seen for millions of years.

A super nova.

He could see them in the city, the rain covering up the stars, the buildings, everything except the two of them, walking, hand in hand through the never-ending gray, but never being lost because together they were always found. Heart to heart and hand in hand, orbiting each other perfectly and perpetually, the comet caught in the star's gravity and kept safe, the perfect distance away to admire the fire but not be burned by it.

Geosynchronous.

He could see them in the flowers in the spring. Tulips, each as red as Shadow's eyes, bobbing their heads under the sun and the stars, time meaningless to them as they walked among the crimson fields, the smell of damp earth invigorating to every sense.

Metamorphic.

He could see them fighting, teeth bared, ears pinned, snarling and growling and hating each other or the world or both, until fur was dusty and fangs were stained with blood, but at the end of the day they would embrace, fire and ice, and return to a home that they shared and watch the world pass them by.

Together.

Like watching the Earthrise

Sonic didn't know how he'd found himself back on the ARK after the battle with the Final Hazard. He couldn't remember walking the hallways back to the viewing area—he couldn't imagine looking away from Shadow's grave for one singular moment. He...he hadn't, right? He hadn't looked away...he couldn't look away, he might miss the spark, the distant moment when Shadow reignited and came back, a phoenix from the ashes...his Sayonara couldn't be the end.

“Sonic.” Tails' voice nearly made him jump out of his skin, but he didn't look back; he couldn't look away.

“Yeah?”

“We have to go. Eggman's ship is getting ready and...”

Sonic cut him off, “Tails?”

“Yeah?”

“Comets...what are comets?”

“Comets? Uh...they're big balls of ice and rock that usually start way out in the far reaches of the solar system, and for some reason get flung in towards the sun. When they get close, at the near end of their parabolic pathway, the solar wind heats them up so they start forming tails of dust and gas as they basically burn up...”

Tails kept going, continuing his commentary about the wonders of the universe, but Sonic didn't hear, didn't process any more of the words, because there was only one thought that was echoing thunderously through his mind.

“Sh-shadow...Shadow was the comet.”

“What?” Tails stopped chattering, his tone concerned.

“Shadow was the comet.” Sonic's voice was hollow, as he stared out at the enormous blue and green ball that slowly rotated into the view of the window, “And I...I was always the sun.”

It was always going to end like this.

Like watching the Earthrise

Art Links!

#sonic the hedgehog big bang 2024

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kanatashinkaifr · 3 months ago

Text

here's belphegors selfie story part 1 and 2!!!

had to split it up cuz it was too much text.. I kept everything the exact same, with the exception of occasional mistranslations and making it somewhat gender neutral (but this is afab MC!!). the remainder of this story will be posted soon, i'll put the link below. NSFW below the cut, hope you enjoy!! :3

link to the remainder of the story

@adelaine-rose

Booooom..!!

There was an explosion so loud that even the gravel on the ground trembled and rolled around.

Devil with good hearing: Is that an Angel attack..?!

At a watch house in Hades that was always prepared perfectly against Angel invasions, a Devil with good hearing urgently looked up outside the window, and shouted.

However, the explosion didn't come from an Angel invasion this time.

When all the Devils raised their heads and looked up at the sky in unison...

Something was pouring down from the clear sky; leaving long, thin, rainbow-like tracks.

Devil with good eyes: That's... A rainbow...? No, is it a comet...?

Devil with good senses: Ah..! A rainbow coloured meteor..?! That must mean..!

When everyone was captivated by the meteors with rainbow coloured tails fantastically embroidering the sky--

Boooooom...!!

Once again, an explosion enough to shake the ground below the Devils' feet came from the sky.

At the same time, the clouds opened up in a circle, as though there was a hole; and someone... Appeared from the middle.

The devil who was floating in a somewhat gloomy manner among the magnificent, rainbow-colored meteor shower was smiling with a camera that had lenses as big as a cannon in his hand. --If you can also call the phantasmagoric smile reflected in his gleaming blade a smile...

The man who appeared as though he had forced himself through the universe beyond the sky was overflowing with such tremendous presence that he drew the eyes of all those there.

He definitely had horns, the symbol of devils, growing from his head, but they could feel a more oppressive and extraterrestrial energy from him.

It was obvious that he was no mere devil.

Just then, a few devils shouted almost in unison.

Devil with loud voice: That's... Phenomenon...!!

Excited devil: It's Phenomenon...! It's Phenomenon...!!

The expressions of the devils who were stiff with worry and wariness until just now were all colored with excitement.

No one there asked who Phenomenon was.

Just then, The being called Phenomenon above the sky opened his lips that seemed so heavy that they wouldn't open excruciatingly slowly and almost growled in a low voice.

Phenomenon: I have come... To take a picture...

Overjoyed Devil: Oooh!!! It has begun...!!!

Elated Devil: Phenomenon has come to take a picture...!!

The devils shouted and cheered in excitement as though Phenomenon's single sentence notified them of the beginning of a festival.

...Was something that didn't apply to the devils of Niflheim.

Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble...

The room is silent except for the scratching of pens, like a room full of students studying for an important exam.

In a place where the excitement outside was faint enough to penetrate even the closed windows, Gusion muttered.

Gusion: If you take the loudest sound an excited devil can make, multiply it by the population of Niflheim, and trace back the percentage lost when the sound breaks through the glass, then retrace the original value of the disturbance we're feeling now...

Bathin: Why would you do that?

Gusion: Pity those of us who are stuck in our rooms doing work, unlike those idiots outside.

Among the devils who eventually gathered and went about their business, Gusion was the first to grow impatient and grumble.

Gusion: Do you know that there's still a misconception among the devils in other countries? That because we're henchmen of the king of sloth, all we do is nap every day.

Bathin: Gusion, quit scribbling and speak up. I can't understand half of what you're saying because your pen is making such a ruckus.

Beleth: Why do you still insist on usin' a pen? You could use a calculator. And why do you always have to squat on the floor? I said I'd get you another desk.

Beleth clicked his tongue as he looked down at Gusion, who was crouched on the floor next to his chair; unlike himself at the desk, or Bathin, who sat across from him and shared the same desk.

Gusion: You think it's easy to change centuries-old habits overnight? I'm faster at calculating like this.

Gusion said, grumbling and calculating in his mind at the same time.

Bathin: It isn't like you to complain while calculating. Did you really want to enter Phenomenon's photo contest that bad?

Gusion: I don't really care about that. The formula I'm perfecting here is far more interesting.

Bathin: Then why?

Gusion: Because I resent being misunderstood. While everyone else is out catching angels, I'm locked up in this room, thinking about how to make my country stronger. A nap? What a misconception!

Gusion: The truth is, being around Belphegor makes me languid and lazy; and I'm tired of putting up with it.

Belphegor's aura, the king of sloth, was so strong that it was contagious to the devils around him; making even the most sincere of devils like Gusion drowsy.

Gusion: But yesterday, Paimon from Gehenna texted me during the day and then followed up before I could even reply, saying, "Aaah, are you sleepingggg? I'm sorry to disturb you, sozzz ;) "...!

Belphegor: Then say no.

Belphegor's languid voice slipped in, drowned out by the rustling of the blankets, from the side of the bed a short distance away from the desk.

Beleth: Haha, that's right. You could've said no.

Gusion:...Do you find it amusing when you're doing all of his Majesty Belphegor's work?

Beleth: If not me, who will take care of him?

Belphegor: That's right.

When Belphegor mumbled something in his sleep, Gusion decided that further conversation was pointless, frowned, and went back to solving the formula.

But the reason they found it hard to concentrate was not only because they were caught on Belphegor's laziness.

Fap, fap, fap, fap...

Gusion: ............

Bathin: ............

Gusion was purposely scratching his nib loudly, just to drown out that annoying sound.

Gusion: (Don't masturbate in front of all your men...!!)

Gusion thought, but Belphegor was the kind of devil who would let the major devils do all the work in his room because he couldn't be bothered to answer to them one by one.

All the work, even that which was inappropriate to be done in his chamber. For example...

Bathin: So, when are we executing that angel in the back?

Right. Like, executing angels, for example.

In the corner of Belphegor's chamber, there was a giant scaffold that looked like it belonged in a public square, with an angel chained to it, waiting to be decapitated at any moment.

Belphegor: Kill it now.

Gusion: No, killing is killing, but you're asking me to decide how to do it; which is why he's been chained in this room for three days now, waiting to see if he's going to be decapitated or strangled.

Belphegor: You want me to decide now? Don't bother...

Gusion: ... You've been saying that for three days now, too.

Gusion frowned. Because even as he was answering carelessly, Belphegor was still masturbating.

When he glanced up, Belphegor's flat stomach was already glistening with

semen.

It was impossible to tell how many times he'd ejaculated, but he still didn't seem satisfied.

When Gusion and Bathin looked at Beleth almost simultaneously, with the same mind, he paused for a moment, and then said with an expression that seemed to have caught on.

Beleth: Agares is hard at work training Niflheim's army, and we're free and easy compared to the atmosphere over there.

Gusion: What are you talking about, again?

Beleth: Weren't you just saying that we seem to be working too hard?

Gusion: It's not that kind of hardship...

It was then.

Knock knock.

There was a knock. Not at the door, but at the window.

Beleth: Ahh, a long overdue return. Andrealphus. Come on in.

Beleth rose from his seat and opened the window so as not to disturb everyone, and a devil with a long, lean body and wings even larger than it was nailed to his back nodded slowly and stepped through the window.

When Andrealphus came into the room with low strides from his leather

shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed, Belphegor said a single sentence: 'Ey, you're back-' and then fell back to sleep.

Andrealphus: It's quiet in here. Outside it's all festive with Phenomenon's contest.

Andrealphus: Your Majesty Belphegor, I know you're always sleepin', but why don't you stay awake tonight?

A hunter who carries a great scythe and slaughters angels in hiding. That was the public image of the devil that was Andrealphus, but there was a certain boyish innocence to his face as he sat at the foot of Belphegor's bed in the

and woke him up.

With Belphegor sleeping peacefully and the devils burying their faces in their respective desks, it seemed friendly and peaceful like a group of boys gathered at a friend's house after school to do homework.

Of course, there was nothing friendly or peaceful about the sight of an angel chained to the side of the room with his head on the execution rack, or Belphegor sleeping and masturbating nonstop despite the wetness on his lower stomach.

Bathin: Why disturb His Majesty Belphegor's sleep? He'll fall asleep again soon enough.

Andrealphus: Didn't you hear? There's a huge fuss about Phenomenon's contest goin' on outside. His Majesty should be a part of it.

Gusion: ......???

Bathin: ......?

Andrealphus: What's with the looks on your faces?

Gusion: .......How do you know my expressions?

Gusion narrowed his eyes to meet Andrealphus's blind ones, but this time Andrealphus pretended not to notice and continued.

Andrealphus: If His Majesty participates, I'm sure he'll win first place, which is good. Because, if he wins first place, then his picture will be displayed all over Hell, and I'll be able to see his face no matter where I am.

Gusion: If that's what you're after, just carry a picture of him around with you.

Andrealphus: No, it'll get soaked with blood.

Gusion: Put it in your phone, keep it as a photo...

Andrealphus: No, it'll get soaked with blood.

Bathin: Andrealphus's phone done broke more than once because it got drenched in blood. Anywhere, there's no way His Majesty's entering the contest, so we might as well give up hope.

Gusion: Hey, wait. Oi, Andrealphus. You can't even see it even if his Majesty's picture is hung all over Hell...!

Andrealphus: It's to do with the feels. Anyways, it can't be helped if he doesn't wish to participate.

Beleth: You're all bein' too pessimistic. He's still our king, after all.

Gusion: He's not going to do it anyway.

Belphegor: But we can still hope.

Belphegor's sleepy reply further sullied Gusion's impression of him.

Gusion: The one who hates being bothered the most is bothering me...

Beleth: Your Majesty, are you really gonna enter the contest?

Belphegor: It's annoyin'...

Everyone slammed their heads back down on their desks with an expression of 'of course' on their faces, but Beleth suddenly went into 'competent servant mode' again and his eyes began to sparkle.

Beleth: I heard that the criteria for the winner of this contest is to take 'a picture where you're the most obscenely filthy'... Don't you think that'd be a piece of cake?

Bathin: ...It's 'a picture where you're the most obscenely messed up'.

Beleth: Haha. Blah, blah, blah. Yes, Your Majesty, how 'bout you wake up for a moment...

Beleth moved closer to the bed to shake Belphegor awake, but Belphegor only lifted his head slightly in annoyance, a frown on his face.

Belphegor: You're the one who should be doin' that, if you'd just stay awake a lil' longer. Those teeth marks on your body, there's more of 'em. again

Beleth: No, no, no. This ain't even close.

Belphegor: What... I gotta do more than that? No, I don't like it. It's annoyin'.

Beleth: An event with all the devils of Hell? It can't be that easy. Why else do you think all the kings of the world are lookin' for Solomon's descendant right now like crazy?

Belphegor: Solomon's descendant?

Beleth's phone rang as Belphegor asked languidly, still in the throes of

sleep.

Beleth's phone rang as Belphegor asked languidly, still in the throes of sleep.

Beleth: Your Maj, one moment. Hello? Ah, a video call.

Beelzebub: [Haha, Beleth, you don't even know the difference between a phone call and a video call. You're like an old man!]

Beleth: I am an old man. I got so many mouths to feed, and I'm breakin' my back

tryin' to feed 'em.

Beleth spoke like a real old man, and the other devils gave him a look that said, "You smell like an old man," and slowly dragged their chairs away.

Beelzebub: [Ah, yes, that's right, Beleth is the best breadwinner in this Hell. Keke. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure the kid from that house has gone home too, have you met him?]

Beleth: Yes, he just came in. Andrealphus, would you like to say howdy to His Majesty Beelzebub?

Beleth said cheerfully, but Andrealphus stiffened and mouthed 'No.'.

Beelzebub: [Keke, looks like he rejected you. Anyway, judging by the silence, MC is not there, Levi! They aren't even in Niflheim.]

At the mention of Solomon's descendant's name, Belphegor who had been dozing off while half awake again slowly opened his eyes.

Beelzebub called out to Leviathan from Hades in a friendly manner, as though he happened to be with him. But Leviathan's expression across the screen was murderous.

Leviathan: [They're not in Niflheim, nor in Hades, nor in Abyssos. So all that remains is Gehenna and Tartaros. Beelzebub. I'll pull out your tongue after I look there, Beelzebub.]

Mammon: [They aren't in Tartaros either. I just came back from looking there. Anyway, what about Abaddon?]

When Mammon appeared beside him and tried to wrap his arm around Leviathan's shoulder, Leviathan deftly dodged, showing it all on the screen.

Leviathan: [There's no way MC would have gone there on their own, unless they're insane...... No, it's not completely unlikely.]

Satan: [Okay, let's go to Abaddon!!]

Even Satan's eyes lit up as he appeared, the devils of Niflheim who had come to Beleth's side and were watching the screen together all looked a little dumbfounded.

Gusion: ...This isn't even an emergency for Hell. How come you're all gathered there?

Satan: [Because we need to find MC to win first place in Phenomenon's contest!]

Bathin: What role will they play?

Mammon: [Huhu, you can figure out who has the most dramatic eye for 'most obscenely messed up' in all of Hell right now, since you're smart.]

Satan: [Why do you look so proud of yourself?]

Mammon: [Of course I'm happy that the kings of Hell have recognized MC's discernment, because they're mine.]

Satan: [Mwahaha! Bullshit!!]

Leviathan: [Anyways, since MC doesn't seem to be there, you can hang up the phone, keep busy.]

After saying that, Leviathan hung up the phone first. And with that, the noisy voices disappeared and peaceful silence returned...

Harumon: Keep busy...! What a cruel goodbye...!! That's so cruel...!! That's so cruel...!!!

Beleth: Where were you hidin' again? You came out now?

Harumon: Vassago kidnapped me again!!! Vassago!!! He bathed me in the finest scented oils!!! He massaged me all over!!! And he brushed me as he wanted!!!!!

Beleth: My, I'm jealous of that. It always feels so good to be touched by a pretty boy like Vassago.

Harumon: What are you talkin' about!!! You horny jerk!!! I've been taken advantage of!!!

Bathin: Vassago... He don't look it, but he really adores Harumon.

Beleth threw the good-smelling, fluffy Harumon onto the bed, and

Belphegor caught him right on the spot, tucking it under his elbow and rolling onto his side.

Harumon: Ugh...! Your Majesty, your elbow...! I-It's pressin' on my guts...!!! ARGHH!! I smell cum...?!!

Belphegor: Funny. A human whose name keeps comin' up during the devil's festival.

Andrealphus: ...? Your Majesty Belphegor, I thought you were asleep.

Beleth: Wow, his eyes are really sparklin'. What is it?

While they were all stunned that he was awake and not sleeping, Belphegor pulled a dice from his chest.

Belphegor: Solomon's descendant. I thought they were interestin', but...

But if they're so great that even the kings are lookin' for them, then...

Belphegor's dice left his hand. It rolled far, far away, stopping at Beleth's feet.

Belphegor didn't even bother to pick it up himself. He just looked up and asked.

Belphegor: What's it say?

Beleth: Six.

Belphegor: Okay, I've decided.

Belphegor, who was still only halfway out of his quilt by the time the dice were rolled, stretched out completely.

In that moment, the air in the room, which had been peaceful and even stretched out, stiffened with tension.

Belphegor: I shall win first place in the contest.

Before anyone could react to the sudden declaration.

Swooosh-!

A tremendous amount of power was suddenly released from Belphegor's body, which had been marinated in drowsiness and languor.

The devils in the room instinctively drew their weapons, tensing every muscle in their bodies. Just then.

Click.

An improbable sound reached everyone's ears. A small, concise signal that seemed to flip a switch in the world.

At the same time, the surroundings were plunged into total darkness. As if everyone in the world closed their eyes at the same time.

The darkness didn't just swallow Belphegor's chamber, it engulfed all of Hell in that moment.

Agares: ...This... All he does is sleep. What happened?

Vassago: ...I'll go fetch Harumon to check out the situation.

The place where Vassago selflessly replied to Agares' irritation was also shrouded in darkness.

Leviathan: This darkness... Belphegor, you lazy bastard.

Satan: Shouldn't he be in bed?

Beelzebub: He must be hungry, or--

Mammon: He suddenly remembered something he wanted.

The place where the kings gathered was also dark,

MC: What, what...?! Did the angels do something again...?!

The place where you are was also in darkness.

You couldn't see anything, and you thought while your heart was pounding with fear and surprise in the seemingly empty space.

MC: I was just passing near the border of Gehenna and Tartaros...?

You had narrowly missed Satan who was searching for you, and had actually returned to Gehenna just as he was leaving it.

But you were too afraid to step into the streets, and everything around you was enveloped in darkness, and you were lost.

The darkness not only swallowed up everything you could see, but it also swallowed up sound, and you couldn't feel anything, as if you were drowning in a black liquid.

Just then.

???: Ah, gotcha.

A familiar voice called out from an unknown direction.

Then there was a momentary flicker of darkness, with no light in any part of the room, no distinction between light or shadow, and then, as if someone had pulled away the blackness in front of your eyes, there was suddenly only a landscape beyond.

It was Belphegor's room, with a calm, dark interior that seemed made for sleeping more than anything else.

Belphegor: Come over here.

MC: Belphegor???

Holding up part of the darkness with one arm, Belphegor spoke in a voice

that hadn't quite awoken.

The man who had covered himself in a sea of near-neutral colors looked weak in his sleep, but all the darkness that surrounded you was of his own making.

Lifting the darkness as if lifting a curtain, he was slightly bent over so that his chest and abs, clad in a single kimono, were clearly visible to you.

MC: (Uh, am I looking at it wrong...? I don't think that's... sweat... on Belphegor's stomach...?)

You stared at him for a moment, suddenly realized that your gaze was too blatant, and shook your head hastily.

MC: This is too good, no, no, this is too sudden, what's going on?

Belphegor: You were too far away, so I shortened the path.

You didn't understand his words, but more than that, you didn't understand the sensations you were feeling.

Surely Belphegor was speaking in front of you, but his voice seemed to come from the back of your throat.

Besides, you should have been in Gehenna because you were standing still where you walking a moment ago, but Belphegor in front of you were waving from his room in Niflheim.

Beleth: My goodness. Our king must be somethin' else, to bother goin' all the way down there, to mess up the dimension by unleashin' energy on all Hell.

You heard Beleth's dumbfounded voice from somewhere, a voice that sounded bemused-but also secretly proud.

Gusion: Hey, Solomon's descendant. Use your head. Not your senses. Think about what this devil in front of you is capable of.

Gusion's voice rang out from somewhere, and you snapped out of it.

Belphegor, who could bend dimensions, space and time, had bent them to meet you, creating the shortest distance possible to reach you.

MC: S-so where am I now? Gehenna or Niflheim?

Bathin: You're in Gehenna, and you're in Niflheim. That's what dimensional travelin' is for. Ain't that nifty?

At the sound of Bathin's calm voice, you felt yourself being released from the fear and tension that the sudden darkness had brought.

You shifted toward Belphegor, whose three eyes were glowing toward you, and then-

Belphegor: This way.

Sure enough, Belphegor was right in front of you, so you reached out, and just as you thought you heard a voice in your right ear, a firm hand wrapped around your left waist, hugging your body from behind and pulling you to your feet.

MC: (I'm going to fall...?!)

You squeezed your eyes shut in surprise, and then something fluffy touched your bottom, and it became bright beyond your eyelids.

MC: Huh, where am I...?

Belphegor: It's Niflheim.

Sitting in the middle of the bed and sprawled out beside you, answered Belphegor, who hadn't even bothered to look at you despite the fact that the front of his tunic was open - and thankfully so.

Beleth: Welcome to Niflheim, my dear Descendant of Solomon.

You were greeted in a cool tone by the handsome devil standing before you.

MC: I was surely in Gehenna a moment ago...!

Beleth: The moment you entered the dimension of Niflheim, our Majesty pulled you into it, and then returned you to your dimension.

Harumon: My...! Not just travelin' 'tween dimensions, but havin' the power to travel 'tween dimensions...!!! I don't know if our king is brilliant or ignorant!

As Harumon complained, Beleth casually walked back to the desk, grabbed a pen, and spoke.

Beleth: Now, I reckon our king's gonna be busy from now on, so the rest of y'all should find another empty room.

Bathin: ... It's been a spell since I saw you. How sad.

Bathin bowed politely and started to leave the room, but Gusion couldn't take his eyes off the paper he was writing down formulas for some interesting puzzle, so Bathin dragged him out of the room.

Beleth: Andrealphus, you too... Huh? When did he leave? Harumon's not here neither?

Beleth scratched the back of his head as he stared at the empty space, then closed the window as if he was used to it and came back and sat down.

MC: If you're busy, should I go too? I just got here, but...

Beleth: Ahh, no, Belphie's busy 'cause of you. Well, I'll be off... Oh, just check this

one. Hey, your Majesty. What about that last road project? Do you approve?

Belphegor: Yeah.

Beleth: Hey, at least take a gander at it. Don't just lie there.

Belphegor: Ye.

Beleth:You're such a good listener. Hey, MC, I'm sorry, can you help him on one side? I'll take the other.

MC: Huh? Okay!

At Beleth's request, you hesitantly lifted one of Belphegor's armpits and placed it on your shoulder. As Beleth approached and did the same on the other side, Belphegor rose to his feet as if he had no choice.

MC: (Ooh, ooh... What is this... Belphegor's thick body odor is coming straight to

the tip of my nose...!)

Beleth walked over and carried Belphegor with you to the front of the desk.

Beleth: Look. This paperwork. What shall we do, approve it?

Belphegor: Nah.

Beleth: Well then... Okay. That's it, then. Now I'm really done... Oh, this one needs the king's say-so, too. Hey, Your Majesty. What am I supposed to do? There's stuff on the agenda that needs your answer right now.

Belphegor: Well, you get to work. I'll do this. No, you do it, not me.

Belphegor said, half-leaning over Beleth and pointing at you with his gaze.

MC: Me? Do? What?

Belphegor: That's annoyin', just ask me one question.

MC: If you brought me here, the least you could do is explain...!

As you said that, you slipped out of his arms and stood to face Belphegor, who sighed heavily as if he was about to do something very, very big.

Belphegor: I'm only gonna explain this once. I'm gonna explain it in one go. If I don't, I'll die of annoyance.

You nodded quickly, and Belphegor smirked, his head jerking upright.

You almost didn't pay attention to his words as his sharply chiseled, handsome features stared back at you...

Belphegor: I'm curious about you. I've taken a likin' to you.

I also wanna win first place in Phenomenon's contest.

I also wanna have relations with you.

But I can't be bothered to move.

So you do it.

MC: ??????????????

You stuttered as the information rushed past you, not quite registering in your mind.

Beleth: Come on, Your Majesty. Just 'cause you're bothered doesn't mean you gotta speak so casual-like that the other person can't understand you.

Fortunately, Beleth kindly turned his chair around to explain.

Beleth: Well, it ain't really that difficult. His Majesty is interested in you, so to speak, and he also wants to win first prize in Phenomenon's contest.

He thinks you can help him take the 'dirtiest photo ever', and he'd like to have relations with you, too.

But he can't be bothered with all of that, so he's lettin' you lead, okay?

MC: Uh... So... He wants to know about me, and... He want to win first place in Phenomenon's contest, and... Have sex with me.... Ahem, I'd like to do that, too... But... I...

Beleth: Yeah. You got it. Clever.

Your face flared up in a belated blush at Beleth's kind words.

MC: (I mean, he's saying we should do it right now, with my own hands, and with Beleth here...!)

Your blushing face looked shamelessly into Belphegor's eyes and the back of Beleth's head.

You panicked and took a few steps back, only to find a cold wall behind you... No, a full-length mirror almost as large as the wall.

Turning away from the mirror, you clasped your sweaty hands together as you stared at a man who had both a sharp, alert appearance and a languid languor that left much to the imagination.

MC: (This...is... too... too... good...!)

You already anticipated seeing the scenes that made your heart pound inwardly once you heard about the theme of Phenomenon's contest, and you found yourself in a more stimulating situation than you could have imagined.

MC: (After all, I don't see Belphegor very often compared to the other kings, so I never expected such an event to take place...!)

True to his name as the king of sloth, Belphegor rarely ventured outside of Niflheim.

Even when he was in Niflheim, he rarely left his room, or even his bed, which made this situation even more exciting.

MC: (I wonder what type of caress Belphegor likes. Does he sweat a lot? Does he like to be touched by hand or does he prefer it to be done with my mouth?)

Belphegor said he wanted to get to know you, but in truth, you were just as curious about him.

With such expectations and delusions bubbling up inside you, you thought it wouldn't be long before you were wetting your pants just by looking at the razor-sharp handsome man standing there with his apron languidly open.

The only problem was, you had to lead the whole thing and make sure you 'messed it up obscenely' to his satisfaction...

MC: (But Belphegor's already obscene...?! That on his stomach...!! It's definitely cum...!! Ahh... I want to rub my lower belly on it and get wet...)

Belphegor: Huh? Huh. Yer' already up and at it? How diligent.

You looked into Belphegor's pale eyes and saw that in his eyes, you were already blushing, and spreading open his clothes.

In fact, your expectations were not just to 'watch' the thrilling scenes, but to actually 'mess' someone up in the most obscene way possible.

MC: You said to do it. So I'm going to do it enthusiastically...

And then, as if by some sort of instinct, you began to run your drooling tongue over the nipple in front of you.

Watching you, Belphegor chuckled.

Belphegor: I ain't one for nuisances, but when I see folks workin' this hard for me, I reckon I gotta lend 'em a hand.

With those words, Belphegor's hand came to rest on the top of your head as if squeezing you, and as he lifted your head with force, your gaze locked with his mysterious three eyes.

Belphegor: [There's no need to rush, just make it feel right]

At that moment, you felt your vision go dark for another very brief moment.

And the moment it receded, Belphegor's hand was on the back of your head... Yet somehow, you felt it on your butt.

MC: Huh? Huh?

Belphegor's grip on your head tightened, and you lifted up on your heels, feeling as if someone was squeezing you under your ass.

MC: Uhh...?! There's a hand, on my butt...?

That wasn't it.

MC: (It feels strange... I feel so good... I'm so turned on... But why... Do I feel so drowsy and lethargic...?)

Belphegor: Ya can sleep, but keep movin' them bones.

A strange command dropped above your head... No, it seemed to come from beneath your chin.

MC: Huh...? I just heard, something here...

You lowered your head, talking gibberish as though you were half-asleep, but of course Belphegor's face wasn't there.

Instead, you could see his abs that were clearly visible through the open front, and the glistening piercing that was embedded in them when you looked down.

When you touched it with your hand, it felt cooler than your body temperature and it seemed to stir your sleep just a little.

But only for a moment.

You shook it off. The languor eventually gave way to the strength behind your knees, and you stood in front of Belphegor with your knees upright, rubbing your face between his legs.

Even as you frantically rubbed between his legs, now as warm as a newborn baby, he literally 'stayed still' with nothing but a pleasant smile.

Beleth: Hey, Maya, watch yerself 'round His Majesty-- hangin' 'round him can wear ya down... Shoot, my apologies for bein' late.

Beleth glanced back at you, but you were already preoccupied with the multi-sensory and arousal that Belphegor had so strangely twisted.

Belphegor had only squeezed the crown of your head once, and you were still feeling the sensation of someone constantly squeezing and fondling under your ass,

Belphegor had only whispered once, but his hot, sweet breath seemed to be blowing in your earlobe, under your armpit, and down your stomach over and over again.

MC: This is strange... Strange... It's strange... But I like ittt...

Belphegor: Now, put in that work, push it harder.

His words sounded insensitive, but they were true.

The more you touched him, the more you felt him, the more aroused your body somehow became.

It wasn't the kind of 'if you like it, I like it' interaction that happened simply because of the affection you felt for the other person.

Belphegor was leisurely watching you, letting you take over the even the arousal that he should be feeling.

Of course, that didn't mean Belphegor's wasn't aroused at all, or nil.

MC: It's hard.

His cock was already fully erect and throbbing against your cheek, just a piece of clothing away.

You drew your knees up to your sitting position and lifted his robe up on your own, rolling it over your chest.

Belphegor: ...That's it. Keep it steady.

Feeling Belphegor's voice and breath echoing in the hole beneath you, you parted the bottom of his kimono.

MC: It's... Pretty...

You said so without realizing it, lovingly stroking Belphegor's shaft with both hands.

It was nodding fiercely and wasn't cute in the slightest, but you found it terribly endearing.

His cock looked like a compressed version of Belphegor himself.

It was neither too long nor too small, just the right amount of hardness and clear color.

And... The piercings that were embedded here and there on his body were embedded there as well.

MC: (If I touch it there... Would it feel even better...?)

You thought to yourself, and at the same time you stood up firmly, wedged it between your breasts and began to move up and down.

#whb belphie #whb belphegor #what in hell is bad #whb #what in hell is bad belphegor #uuu this took longer than expected...#but im so happy that you dont have to go through the whole mf unholy board just to get the story!!!!!

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world-in-a-nook · 4 months ago

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Prediction : the tragedy of Amorpheus

Welcome one and all to my theory crafting around the next HSR planet !

For this, we will use Black Swan's lines about Amphoreus and try to analyse and probably theorize on what Amphoreus' story will be about.

I hope that you pardon my english, it isn't my first language.

I- The story of the planet II-The three paths

I- The story of the planet

A- The state of the planet

First of all, we have all the flags abount an antiquity inspired planet : the name of the achievement, the planet's name and so on.

We also know that the planet is only accessible through "the light from the mirror of the Garden of Recollection" and that Akivilli never reached Amphoreus.

So here is my theory : we are going to use the Graden of Recollection's miror to go back in time to when Amphoreus existed/was in better shape.

The keywords from Black Swan are "reached" and that it "only" possible through the Garden of Recollection. We know that the Garden's task is to gather memories to make sure that the universe is remembered after the Destruction. We also know that their members can "freely traverse between worlds, unconstrained by physical limits." (Data bank ; Factions)

We have seen that with Black Swan and the dreamscape : she can freely go from the dreamscape to reality. So that means that they aren't affected by space. But what if they aren't affected by Time either ? Then, only people unaffected by time from the Garden of Recollection could access Amphoreus, and such Akivilli would have never reached Amphoreus.

This would also explain why the Astral Express would never need fuel after that : it would make it a timeless machine, that goes beyond time and space, a paradox. In a more darker turn of events, it could also be the planet's destruction that fuels the Astral Express.

B- The plot

Since the planet must be either destroyed or in a very catastrophic way. I would imagine the story based on the tragedy : the Astral Express will tell the people of Amphoreus that their planet is destroyed, everyone will try so that it doesn't happen but everything has already happened and it will end up destroyed. This mixed in with a "Fall of Rome" kind of context.

Why am I thinking so ?

First, Rome is known for its political history being a mess.

Rome and Ancient Greece are known for their tragedies. Those have usually prophecies that are trying to be escaped but ended up happening anyway. And by the Astral Express coming from the future, they would be the ideal prophetic role.

The japanese name for Amphoreus is Omphalos. And Delphi's was known to be the center of the world, according to the greeks. Delphi is well known for its oracles.

"Eternal Land" isn't used to be literal. Black Swan is a Memokeeper and as such believes that all "world will eventually perish, but they can live on in another way — through Remembrance." (Databank ; factions). And such, Black Swan would be basically using some dramatic irony (mostly used in tragedies) to mock Amphoreus' people. It is how we view Rome's Fall : there were the signs that Rome would fall, yet nobody could stop it.

The planet's destruction would be a political crisis from the three paths (a word of them ahead) with a stellaron at play. My theory would be that one of the paths would want to exploit the stellaron for power linked with the hybris theme (the theme that men always try to be as powerful as gods but end up punished). We could also link it to Cesar's deification signaled by a comet.

Post Scriptum : If the Astral Express aren't the one announcing the planet's destruction, we could have an apparition of the Omen Vanguards, Terminus' followers (since they "They are dedicated to drawing prophecies from Terminus's obscure words.").

II- The three paths

"Human behavior flows from three main sources : desire, emotion and knowledge" - Plato

Erudition - Mourning Actors- Enigmata

Erudition :

For the fact that Ancient Greece had an immense impact on today's intellectual (look at Dr.Ratio's design).

The Genius Society, Nous' followers, are already known to be quite prideful so it would made sense for the hybris theme.

We don't know Nous' creation and ascension to aeonhood. So we could have Nous' followers in that point in time.

"Knowledge comes at the price of suffering." (Fu Xian voiceline Chat : Third Eye) and so, following my idea, it would be the knowledge that the planet will end up destroyed/dead that makes the Trailblazer and the Astral Express suffer.

We need another path for the trailblazer

Mourning Actors :

Their performances are akin to greek tragedies

Like Nous, we do not know when Aha arose to aeonhood.

Despite doing greek tragedies, their philosophy is closer to Pascal's (“Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for miseries and yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.” ; replace Distraction with Elation and you have it.). And Pascal also has some quotes about truth. I wouldn't be surprise if we see Mourning Actors get inspiration in Amorpheus.

Enigmata :

Purely out of opposition to Erudition, first and formost.

The romans were well-known to copy the greeks (even in their mythology) yet hate them. So Enigmata being opposite to Nous would fit the bill but also Rome could be replaces with Enigmata : taking history and changing it.

There is the sentence of erasing someone from History known in ancient history and it would fit the Enigmata pretty well.

Enigmata has been hinted through Gallagher in Penacony and Hoyo doesn't show us something just for the sack of it.

Enigmata could be seen as an easy antagonist for the arc. (And if we follow my idea, Nous' followers would be the one creating their demise)

Side note : Beauty is a path that I have seen mentioned in theories and could be (since Aeneas, the founder of Rome, is seen as the son of Aphrodite, goddess of love ). Though I have to say that it wouldn't fit with the idea of "balance" because it doesn't have a counterpoint.

Thank you for reading my messy theory ! Have a wonderful day/night ! (It is 2AM when I finish writing this).

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr theory

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berrystiles · 2 years ago

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Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

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The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

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You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

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The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me. But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

“I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #She's back at it again with another sad fic #but no one dies this time so progress #berrystiles writes #rwylm

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