Part 1 of a oneshot based on @juicyyyboxxx's Valentine's Day art because it's lived in my head for months. so if this breaks your heart you have them to blame 💕
WC: 1400
The rejection is familiar.
It bites like teeth on flesh, a deep and aching bruise, unseen, it offers no catharsis without the bitter taste of crimson beneath. Circuits sting and spark under plates of cold metal and a heart that tick tick ticks to a pre-programmed pulse. Alive by electric veins, each breath is painfully artificial.
That's why they always leave, isn't it?
How silly it is to think this time might be different. Yes, silly, that’s what they always tell him. What a silly robot, with silly little feelings he himself doesn’t understand and a silly heart that goes 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat) 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat) 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat).
He is exhausted by its rhythm. Disheartened each time a scraped knee leaks oil and not blood. It didn’t use to be this way, of course. This dysphoria of sorts is recent — a development which stems from not one rejection, not two, but a number that can’t be contained when counting on both hands. He is made to watch, not to keep. The children come and go. Their parents, too. His coworkers find him endearing, charming, amusing, silly silly silly silly silly.
But not worth staying for.
He tries writing letters, assuming (hoping) that it is his voice or maybe his face which scares them away. Maybe he can’t find the right words, and his hesitance is too ugly to bear. Maybe it’s a matter of not saying the right things, or not saying enough of them. Writing it down will fix this, he thinks, and so he gets to work.
The first letter isn’t good. No, no, it isn’t good at all. He tries it again. This one isn’t much better. That’s okay! He has plenty of paper, see, and all the time in the world to get this right.
Time swims through scribbled ink, his hours punctuated with each shake of his head and the crunching of paper, forced into a ball and tossed over the shoulder to be discarded at a later time. It’s terribly messy and goes against his very coding, but then again, so does this beating heart of his. So do these feelings.
It’s a bug, he thinks. A sickness. There must be something wrong with him, surely. He can’t think of another reason for this madness. There are butterflies where his wires ought to be, a warmth in his chest that no amount of fans can reckon with. He feels so strongly about this. About you. And this time, the letter is perfect.
It has to be.
If it results in that familiar sting once more, well, he doesn’t think he will have the strength to try again.
He spots your orange sneakers from across the room and makes towards them like a bee, high on hope, catching you by your name just as you reach the exit doors. Your heel turns to question him, and your smile is thin. Polite. You want to clock out and be home, already.
The paper in Sun’s hands is folded neatly, basic printer white. The adhesive of a red heart sticker keeps the letter in place. His fingers tap-tap-tap against it for one anxious minute before he works up the courage to hand it over.
“Seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day, a-and everything,” he sputters, “I thought– well, why don’t you just give it a look?”
For all the opinions Moon had to share over the hours that the letter was being written, he is decidedly quiet now, of all times, when his voice and companionship is arguably needed most. There is a shared stillness to the room that is perfect as much as it is daunting as the letter is extended.
His gears tense like a held breath when you raise an eyebrow in his direction. You take it with the patience one might expect from any other retail worker; which is to say, too much. Your breezy attitude has him fidgeting with twice the enthusiasm, and the reasoning behind his restlessness is lost on you.
A confession lies between folded paper, unbeknownst to you, ready to be heard if you will humor him and listen. Your eyes return to the letter with an inquisitive hum.
Taking little care in preserving it, you break his heart.
Sun watches on with quiet resolve as the sticker is ripped in two, and the paper unfolded. He dares not move or utter a word as your eyes look over the small poem written in crayola purple. Short and sweet, with the intention of making his feelings for you known without it becoming too cheesy, he thinks it gets the job done well enough. His best letter yet! This assumption is further bolstered when your mouth upturns into a lopsided smile, but he can’t quite read your face.
Then comes the laughter.
Short, curt, a quick exhale through your nostrils more than anything else, as though he’s just told a joke that you found particularly–
“Oh, Sun…”
The letter is returned to him with that same humoring expression on your face, and it is here where he realizes that the look in your eyes isn’t returned affection at all. It’s pity.
“This is very sweet,” you insist, nudging the paper forward a second time when he doesn’t immediately take it back, “but it’s not like that between us, right? I mean, we’re friends, but…you didn’t seriously think this would work out, did you?” Another laugh, and this one stings. “Don’t be silly.”
There is an echo of understanding between his code. Your words don’t offer him the kindness of sinking in slow, rather, they cascade through his audio processors like a slap to the face, one after the other.
There it is again. Silly, silly, silly. Yes, indeed, how silly it was of him to think he could ever be anything more than a hunk of metal in human clothes, pretending to be something he’s not. At the end of it all, it’s not his face, or his voice, or the words he is too scared to say. It’s him. Silly, silly him.
And he is not something that can be fixed with crayon words and sticker hearts.
“…Sun?”
“Of course!” He abruptly straightens with a vocal tick of metal on metal, swiping the letter from your hands as if it burned you. “Of course I wasn’t being serious,” he continues, “it was a joke — a joke! You know me, silly ol’ Sunny. Just thought I’d give you a laugh before you went home for the night, is all!”
Printer paper white folds neatly over shaking hands. You might have questioned it were you not in so much of a hurry to get home, but as it stands you have more important things to get to, and a subtle tremor isn’t too out of the ordinary for the animatronic, anyway. Old wires, if you had to guess. The company really ought to get that fixed.
“Good one,” you say, a third and final laugh spilling between your grimace. “Well, I should get out of here. Thanks for helping out today.” Your eyes flicker towards the exit, then back, again, to where he waits like a statue, unmoving and with that same ever-constant expression staring back. “See you tomorrow?”
Something clicks and buffers in his voicebox as he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, a thousand responses readying themselves between the silence, questions he’s never dared to ask. How is any of this fair? Is it in vain, all these hours and days and years spent toiling with words that go no where, and feelings he isn’t allowed to have? To run his circuits ragged chasing after a heart he can’t keep? Am I better off alone, he wonders.
“See you tomorrow!” He says instead.
You can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt rising in your chest as the door clicks shut behind you. He sounded so genuine, you might have actually believed it if he were in any way built to host those kinds of emotions. You assume that he’s just mimicking them, instead. Putting on a show like he used to do before the daycare became his new objective. And yet, the idea of an animatronic truly feeling anything in the way of love makes you smile just a little as you head for the parking lot.
“…What a silly robot.”
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Thinking about how the books introduce us to Narnia as this vibrant, beautiful land and then make us watch it die piece by piece. If you read in publication order you start with Narnia a place of wonder and magic even under the Witch's power and then the Pevensies save it and we get "the Golden Age" and Narnia is really something; if you read chronologically you start with Aslan making Narnia and everything so full of life and song that trees grow from everything that touches the earth and people laugh to be the butt of a joke because they (and everyone else) have never heard a joke before in the history of the world and jokes are fun! And then you read LWW and get to see what Narnia has grown into and get the Golden Age.
And then you read about a Narnia where people are in hiding and magic is a legend (even under Jadis, there was magic) and Cair Paravel is in ruins and lions and beavers are extinct. Cair Paravel can be rebuilt but lions and beavers can't be revived. The characters restore Narnia but it will never be quite what it was. It will never be another Golden Age.
We watch Caspian, boy hero of the last two books, die, grieving and broken and old before his time. Narnia is saved again and it's time for a coronation, just like in MN, LWW, and PC! Yay! Except this coronation will happen alongside a funeral. Underneath Narnia swims a dead kingdom and caves full of monsters waiting for the end of the world. Remember children, all things die.
The next time we open a book, we become the Pevensies, returning to Narnia to find centuries have passed and our magical home has become warlike and worn. Aslan has not been seen in ages; guard towers have been built around Narnia's borders for the many battles. Where are the clearings full of moonlight dances that Mr. Tumnus spoke about, back at the beginning? Tirian assures us Narnia is like that, in times of peace, only visitors from Earth tend to be brought over when Narnia is in trouble. We will not see it. Narnia was like that; good and beautiful and wonderful things did happen. Narnia is death. There will be no after the battle this time, no awakening land or Golden Age after cruelty is stopped. Cruelty and war have seeped into Narnia itself. Guard towers must be built: not a temporary war, but long term militarism. People turn on one another. Everyone dies. Narnia dies.
"I saw it begin," says Digory/the Professor. "I did not think I would live to see it die." Neither did we.
"I did hope that it might go on forever," says Jill. It could have. This is a story. Turns out it's a tragedy.
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HoH Steve Harrington headcanons because I love him (ft a lot of Steddie)
He slowly developed hearing issues in his teens and early adolescence but didn't notice at first. He learnt how to lip read by accident because he just realised it was easier to understand people when he was doing it. He didn't know it was an actual thing.
He secretly loves that Dustin calls him a cool cyborg for having hearing aids
Going to Eddie's gigs and not giving a shit about not knowing any of the lyrics to any of the songs because he can't understand them anyway. He loves the way he can feel the loud music through his entire body.
"I can't see what you're saying!" When Eddie gets distracted and covers his mouth or turns away from Steve while they're talking.
Early mornings when he doesn't have his hearing aids in and Eddie tells him to stop stomping around so much but Steve doesn't even realise he's doing it and so Eddie calls him a dinosaur and Steve tackles him whenever he makes little t-rex arms
Absolute fucking bliss of taking his hearing aids out at night and letting the noise of the world disappear.
He can't hear those annoying cicadas everyone complains about during summer nights.
Eddie buys him an ASL book but he gives up after learning literally 3 words in ASL. He learnt enough just so he can communicate with Eddie across a noisy bar (The words are "drunk," "bathroom," and "let's go") and he never uses it anywhere else.
He loves when people see his hearing aids and assume he obviously knows sign language because he always replies with "of course" and flips them off 🖕
Saying "I can't hear you 🤷♂️ sorry" or "hearing aids broke this morning" when he can very clearly hear the kids but he doesn't want to listen to them
Family Video having the biggest stock of subtitled movies because Robin keeps secretly ordering them for Steve
After he gets his hearing aids he realises he really likes movies more now that he can understand the characters and follow dialogue and pick up on the musical cues
Calling out Eddie for gossiping about him across a room because even though they're not within earshot, he can clearly lipread that Eddie said his name.
Having the radio absolutely cranked in his car and it startles Robin every single time which makes Steve laugh. She'll learn to turn the volume down before turning it on eventually.
"Oh my god where are my ears" when he can't find his hearing aids in the morning and Eddie says "on the sides of your head" to which Steve shouts "Shut up!" its such a frequent occurrence that Eddie doesn't even have to say it anymore but Steve still tells him to shut up
Wayne got a bit annoyed at the boys having the TV up so loud but after Eddie explains he has to because Steve can't hear so well, he never complained about it again.
He absolutely loves that Robin and Eddie talk with their entire bodies and are so expressive and have good annunciation (which they probably picked up from doing drama in school) because he can understand them really well.
Dustin constantly trying to sneak up behind Steve to scare him but because he's so used to being extra aware of his visual surroundings it never works.
Robin learning to perfectly imitate the way he says "Huh?" every time he can't hear her from across the store
Eddie knowing immediately when Steve didn't understand what someone said because he always does the same "Yeah, totally!" nod and smile.
Steve constantly bugging Eddie to wear hearing protection at gigs and go for a hearing test.
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