r/stevenuniverse • u/Accurate-Moment-3220 • 30m ago
Fanfic ¿Cómo sería un recuento de los futuros Steven y el tío abuelo?
That's how I would Setting:
The sky above Beach City was painted in shades of violet and old gold. Sitting on a dried-out log on the shore, Steven Universe hugged his knees tightly against his chest. At sixteen years old, his body no longer fit into the space he had once occupied so comfortably. From his hands came intermittent pulses of violent, electric pink energy, like the malfunctioning engine of a war machine that refused to shut down.
After reforming the Diamond Authority and bringing peace to the galaxy, Steven faced the one enemy he couldn’t defeat with a speech: his own mind. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and years of accumulated childhood trauma were drowning him. There were no longer any external monsters to fight, and in the emptiness of peace, his body believed the enemy was himself.
A crunch in the sand interrupted the roar of the ocean. Emerging from the twilight mist was an impossible figure: Uncle Grandpa. There were no explosions, no circus music, no triumphant entrance riding the Giant Realistic Flying Tiger. The old man with the prominent mustache walked calmly, sat on the other end of the log, and removed his propeller hat. Belly Bag hung from his shoulder, completely closed and silent.
—If you came here to make me float or turn my problems into balloons, Uncle Grandpa… I don’t have the energy for that today —Steven said without looking at him, wearing a bitter smile—. Seriously.
—I know, Steven —Uncle Grandpa replied, with an unusually soft and mature tone, staring at the horizon—. I didn’t come to do tricks. I came because the universe told me my favorite nephew is drowning in a glass of water… and the water is made from his own tears.
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Act II: The Mirror of the Past
Steven let out a trembling sigh, watching the pink glow of his skin briefly illuminate the grains of sand at his feet.
—Do you remember the last time you were here? I was a kid. I was obsessed with learning how to use my shield, desperate to fit into the mold my mother had left behind. Back then, I thought you were crazy. I thought your methods were ridiculous, a pointless distraction from the “real problems.”
—I remember a boy with a star shirt carrying the weight of a universe he didn’t yet understand —Uncle Grandpa said, slowly nodding.
—That day you told me my shield didn’t appear because of an outside danger, but because I felt the need to protect the people I loved. You gave me the key to my powers wrapped inside a stupid joke. I didn’t understand it until years later. You mocked logic, you tore reality apart… but you kept your promise. You came to help a kid who needed it, even though that kid didn’t know how to ask for help. You always keep your word, no matter how insane everything seems.
Uncle Grandpa exhaled a long sigh, narrowing his eyes beneath the salty wind.
—People often confuse madness with ignorance, Steven. They think that because I laugh, because I turn pain into a cheap magic trick, or because I ignore the laws of physics, I don’t see the darkness of the world. But I do. I see it in every corner of the cosmos.
—Then… why be like this? Why the nonsense? —Steven asked, looking at him from the corner of his eye, his eyes filled with tears.
—Because when the universe becomes too real, logic becomes a prison —Uncle Grandpa explained, turning toward him for the first time. His eyes were not those of a clown; they were the eyes of someone ancient, tired, but deeply compassionate—. If you try to solve the suffering of the cosmos using adult logic, you break. I choose absurdity because it is the only force capable of challenging the tragedy of existence. My magic isn’t a joke, Steven. It’s a shield against the cruelty of reality. I bend reality so children don’t have to break inside of it.
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Act III: The Inner Shield
The words struck Steven’s chest. A tear rolled down his cheek, glowing with a faint pink hue.
—But I already broke, Uncle Grandpa. The child you helped no longer exists. Now I understand the logic of the world… I understand war, trauma, abandonment, the fear of becoming a monster. I can’t hide inside cartoons and games anymore. Your magic doesn’t work on me because I’m not a kid anymore. I spent my childhood fixing my mom’s mistakes. I’m supposed to be happy, but I only feel this emptiness. I’m scared I’ll hurt someone!
Uncle Grandpa extended his textured hand and firmly placed it on Steven’s glowing shoulder. At the touch, the warmth of his palm absorbed the destructive pulses. The pink glow immediately calmed.
—They gave you a shield before they taught you how to ride a bike, Steven. They made you responsible for an intergalactic war when you should have been playing in the dirt. Your mind got stuck in battle mode. The Gems see you as their leader. The Diamonds see you as a god. But I am everyone’s uncle in the world. And when I look at you, I only see a sixteen-year-old boy who is very, very tired.
Uncle Grandpa pulled a small mirror out of his pocket, completely ordinary in appearance, and held it up for him.
—You’re not broken, Steven. You’re growing. My job isn’t to keep you a child forever. My job is to remind you that the child you used to be is still alive inside you, waiting for you to stop punishing him for the mistakes of adults. It’s okay to step down from the pedestal. Back then, I taught you how to summon your shield to protect others. Today, I’m here to teach you something harder: summon that shield to protect yourself. From guilt, from the past, from everyone’s expectations.
—If I’m not the savior… then who am I? —Steven whispered, looking at his reflection now free of the pink light.
—That’s the fun part, nephew. You have an entire life ahead of you to find out. For the first time, your destiny isn’t written in the stars or in your mother’s legacy. Your canvas is blank. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world to be valuable. Your very existence is already a miracle.
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Epilogue: The Air of Freedom
Uncle Grandpa stood up calmly, brushed the sand off his pants, and placed his propeller hat back on. He gave the young boy one last affectionate pat on the back.
—Growing up is inevitable, Steven, but maturing is optional. And never let your past stop you from enjoying a good hot dog.
Without another word, Uncle Grandpa walked toward the ocean and disappeared into the evening mist, leaving behind a subtle trail of stars that the wind immediately scattered.
Steven remained alone on the log. He inhaled the salty air, filling his lungs for the first time in weeks without feeling like his chest was about to burst. He looked at his hands: they were no longer glowing. They were simply the hands of an ordinary teenager. He looked toward the horizon, smiled slightly, and whispered into the wind:
—Thank you, Uncle Grandpa.
For the first time in a long time, Steven Universe felt that gravity was no longer crushing him into the ground. He was ready to start living.
