I know it’s been ages since I’ve been active, but I promise I am still alive and working on requests! In the interest of transparency and honesty, I just wanted to give an overview into the circumstances surrounding my extended absence.
I was initially taking time off of writing to focus on my exams, but an absolute avalanche of personal issues have plagued my life since November of last year, leading to me having to take a substantial chunk of time off that was both unexpected and deeply distressing. A lot of the troubles I've been dealing with have been health-related, forcing me away from creative endeavours. Things are finally starting to settle now, so I'll be getting back to writing ASAP!
I'm so sorry for the wait and for not updating everyone, but it's actually been quite a difficult few months for me. I hope you can both understand and forgive!
To everyone who requested something from me, firstly, thank you! It genuinely makes me happy knowing that you’re interested in my whacky writing haha.
Secondly, I apologise if I’m super slow in getting to your request. I’m currently doing a Masters degree and it’s almost exam time, so life is super hectic and stressful atm. I promise I’m not neglecting your request; shit’s just hitting all the fans right now (><) Please bear with me!
Yooooooo, i really love your writings for Watanabe and Kamui 😭❤ May i please ask for Chrome? :') it could be fluff, angst, whatever you have in mind honestly. Thank you and have a nice day/night!
Hello, anon! Thank you for the ask (and kind words)! I'm sorry it took so long to get to this; life's been a bit of a bitch lately (><)
Since you didn't request anything in particular, I thought it would be a good opportunity to explore something I've had in mind for a while.
This is about the concept of grief, the myriad aspects of it, and the ever-changing spectrum of ways it can be experienced. I explored each facet using a colour of the rainbow because I think it's interesting to link something usually associated with happiness to pain. It's an explorative and somewhat introspective piece, and perhaps a little weird, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Take heed, it's a long one (3.8k)!
P.S.: if you don't like it, please feel free to submit another ask! I'm aware I may have taken a bit too much creative liberty with this one haha.
TW: major character death, angst.
Chasing Fire // CHROME
There are colours to grief. Sorrow is red and blue and violet, and everything in between. You can wear it like clothes, watch as it draws the eye and shuts the mouth. You can look through it like glass and see the world unfold. You can paint with it, stories and songs cradled in the empty space between your ribs.
You can breathe it in, but you can’t breathe it out.
Once you invite it in, it never leaves.
R E D | c h a s i n g f i r e
You lay in his arms, a broken doll weeping red. Blood had soaked through your shirt, inking your skin with tattoos of violence. There was so much of it. So thick it was smothering. So dark it was almost black. Chrome bit his lip and put more pressure on your wound. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, to see the pallor of it and know that death was calling. To know that he was the one who’d failed you.
“Stay with me, Commandant,” he said, fighting to keep the panic from his voice. “Don’t fall asleep.”
“I’m not asleep,” you slurred. Bloodless lips curled into the ghost of a smile. “Just resting my eyes.” Your breaths were rapid and shallow, in time with a hummingbird pulse that grew fainter by the minute.
“Tell me a story,” he said urgently. “The last book you read?”
Your eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. It took you several long beats to answer. “We don’t have to do this, Chrome.” Your fingers closed around his wrist. “I know.”
He bit back the lies that curled on his tongue. He wanted so much to deny, to look away from the unbearable truth, but he couldn’t lie to you. He never could. He reached out to caress your face, thumb brushing over the swell of your cheek. You exhaled softly. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head weakly. “Not your fault.”
“How can you say that? I promised them I’d bring you home. I was supposed to protect you and--”
You pressed a finger to his lips. Chrome could taste the blood on your skin. “Shhh,” you said with some effort. “It’s okay. You’ll be alright.”
“It’s not okay,” he insisted, holding your trembling hand between his own. “None of this is okay.”
“Well… I forgive you anyway.”
Those words shattered something inside him. Like a dam breaking, tears streamed down his face, drawn from some deep well of anguish without end. The pain inside him was a hunger that could not be satisfied, and would not be contained. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t shape the words. Silent screams tore themselves from his throat, taking with them shattered pieces of his inhuman heart. Right then, he wasn’t a Construct; he was just a man with human hurts and human sorrows, mourning the loss of a human life. His grief called forth your own tears. They spilled down your cheeks in a bitter chain. Each staccato breath sent electric pain through your broken body, but you couldn’t stop. There was simply too much. Too much pain, too much regret. Too many things that needed to be said and not enough time to even begin. You could only cry and cry, and hope that Chrome understood.
“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, head bent against yours. His voice was ragged and raw. “Please stay.”
“I want to,” you breathed against his lips. There were no more tears left in you. No space for grief. Only a dull ache and a growing numbness. “I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”
Chrome could have screamed. He could have ripped the world apart over the injustice of it all. But none of that would save you. He couldn’t kiss you better or change fate or reverse the flow of time. He could only hold you as you slipped from this world, as helpless as sand before the tide.
“I would do anything to fix this,” he said, cradling your head between his hands. Your eyes were unfocused, the skin around them tight with pain. “I wish…” He blinked away the blurriness in his vision and tried again. “I wish I could have protected you.”
“What a… simple wish,” you rasped. “Lucky it already came true.”
“What?”
You smiled. Or tried to. It was hard to know what your body was doing anymore. “You protected my mind… My soul. That’s enough.” You swallowed thickly. It was getting harder to breathe. “Is it dark already? I’m so cold.”
Chrome gathered you to him gently. His arms around you were tight, but you hardly felt it. “I’m here,” he said in your ear, again and again. “I’ll always be here.”
Your head rolled back to rest on his shoulder. A chill was spreading through your body, as if ice had replaced the blood in your veins. It was uncomfortable, but you welcomed it. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. “Tell me something nice,” you said, letting your eyes drift shut. “A story… With a happy ending.”
A small sob escaped from Chrome. His breath quivered, dancing over your skin in small puffs of warmth. You wanted to wipe the tears from his face, to comfort him and be comforted in turn. But your body was no longer yours. It danced with death now, and you were simply a spectator in the stalls. You were so tired. You’d fought for so long. All you wanted was to sleep. Here, at the end of it all, you set down your burdens and let yourself rest. I’m listening, Chrome, you thought languidly, as the rhythms of your body slowed.
-----------
Chrome felt like he was breaking apart at the seams, losing the very essence of himself to an uncaring world. All of his fleeting happiness felt so far away, like the remnants of an impossible dream. There was only a brief moment in time that was free of pain, brilliant and blinding like sunlight on waves. A lonely memory of kinder times.
He returned to the landscape of his childhood, and began.
“Once upon a time, there was a prince who wanted for nothing. He had gold and gems and servants to fulfill his every wish. The world was at his fingertips, but he had no friends. He was lonely.” You gave a tiny hum. Chrome continued. “He searched high and low, but nobody cared for his formality and stiffness. They called him a robot, who didn’t know what it meant to be human. Then one day, he met a beautiful girl. She caught his attention immediately.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “She treated the prince like any other person, without fear or judgement. And so she became his first and dearest friend.”
You mumbled something, though he couldn’t make out the words. “The two went on many adventures together, defeating great evils across the lands. Dark beasts and corrupt kings and disease. After their journey closed, the prince found that he’d fallen in love with her. He loved her beauty, her bravery, and her intellect. She was everything he wasn’t and more besides. Their marriage was celebrated across the kingdom. Together, they ruled fairly and--” His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. “And there was no more suffering in their lands. Everyone was happy, but none more so than the king and queen. The end.”
You were silent. Your tortured breaths had faded to pained little gasps like you were choking on air. Your body twitched in his arms, fighting enemies he couldn’t see. Chrome let out a broken sob. “Go then,” he said. “Go if it hurts. Go. I love you.”
That seemed to be the permission you needed. Your body stilled with a final exhale. You were slack and cold against his chest, a dead weight upon his soul. He struggled against the urge to scream. Chrome buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, lavender on blood mixed with a cloying sweetness. “Come back,” he whispered against your skin. “Please come back to me.”
His heart beat steadily in his breast, a perfectly inhuman thing that never wavered. But he could still feel it break.
He wept like his soul was being ripped apart.
Grief is red, roses and thorns all at once. Like chasing fire, I reach for the warmth of memory, but there is only the burn of flame. There is no comfort here, only endless paths of pain.
-----------
O R A N G E | b u r n i n g c o a l s
Hassen sighed. “I understand you’re distressed,” he said. “But I won’t accept your resignation.” He held up a hand before Chrome could object. “People who want to be Constructs are rare. Those who are compatible are even rarer. If you leave, there’s nobody to replace you as leader of Strike Hawk.”
“Kamui or Banji are more than capable,” Chrome countered adamantly. “They’re just as experienced.”
Hassen raised a brow. “Surely I don’t need to tell you experience isn’t the only measure of competence.”
Chrome fell silent. He knew Hassen was right, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. His spirit was shattered. Picking up the broken pieces was a mountain he didn’t know how to climb. “I don’t know how to go on,” he said finally. “It’s too painful.”
“It’s painful now, but it’ll pass,” Hassen said. His breath hitched. “Trust me.”
Chrome didn’t think he could trust anyone ever again. Himself least of all. He nodded mutely. Hassen seemed satisfied with that. He turned to leave before pausing at the door. “You should attend the funeral,” he said after a moment. “It’ll help.”
Chrome felt like he’d been slapped. “No,” he said immediately. “I doubt Gray Raven wants to see the man who killed their Commandant.”
“They’ve had time to process. And grieve. I think they’ll want to see you.”
He said nothing. He could hardly look at the other man. Hassen sighed. “Just think about it.”
The doors hissed shut behind him.
-----------
He couldn’t go to the funeral. He’d thought about it like Hassen asked, but there would be too much of you there. Too many reminders that you were gone, not even bones left to hold. He didn’t want to hear others talking of your life and glorifying your death. He couldn’t bear to hear of your bravery when all he could see was the fear in your face and the regret in your eyes. He still remembered the tremble in your hands, the way you’d clung to him and wept. Your words rang in his mind. Those words that chased him from day to night, and haunted him in hollow dreams.
I’m scared. I don’t want to die.
Chrome buried his face in his hands. The tears swept over the plains of his soul, trying to ease an unquenchable hellfire. He clenched at the sheets. Tore at his hair. He slammed his fist into the ground until sparks flew from metallic joints.
But there was nothing that could heal the wound within.
Grief is orange. Burning coals simmering under the surface, stirred to flame by the gentlest of reminders. It hides and it sleeps, but it never dies.
-----------
Y E L L O W | s e t t i n g s u n
He stumbled, gasping for breath. His entire body hurt. Vital fluid leaked from a dozen places, but Chrome ignored it. Another swing, another slash. Corrupted hands reached for him like the groping hands of death. Something sharp dug into his shoulder. He grunted and swept his scythe in a blazing arc before yanking the blade from his body. His vision glitched. Warning signals flashed. Vital fluid loss. Stabilisation module damaged. Core processing unit under extreme strain. Chrome swept matted hair from his eyes. He didn’t need to be told his body was failing. He could feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, in the flaring pain that accompanied every movement. The world was dark around the edges.
Is this how you felt, Commandant? Did it hurt like this?
His legs buckled. The ground rose to meet him even as the bright edge of a blade descended on his right. Chrome closed his eyes.
“CAPTAIN!”
The clash of metal on metal was followed by the thunderous crash of something collapsing. Strong hands picked him up as his teammates slung his arms over their shoulders. “It’s not like you to be so reckless,” Kamui said with real fear. “It’s almost like you want to die.”
“I--” He broke off. Did he want to die? He hadn’t tried to defend himself at all. But he could have. He knew he could have.
“Not yet,” Banji said quietly from his other side. “We still need you, Captain.”
Chrome hung his head. Shame and regret warred in his fragile heart. He didn’t know how to feel, but one thing was clear:
It wasn’t yet time. He’d have to keep you waiting a little longer.
Grief is yellow. Soft and gentle, like the afterglow of a setting sun. Even when the flame has gone, it remains. It doesn’t burn anymore, but it haunts me all the same.
-----------
G R E E N | j a d e d e y e s
The days were getting easier. He still felt the loss of you like a missing limb, but your phantom hands no longer suffocated him. Your lips no longer kissed to kill. You’d turned from a vengeful spectre into something softer, a shade that kept him company in the dark. He breathed, it seemed, for the first time in a long time.
Yet his mind still caught at the smallest things. Lovers kissing in the dark. Two hands twined together. Laughter around the corner. He missed the warmth of your touch, soft and tender in a way only humans could truly be. He yearned for the press of your skin against his, intimate and secret in the lonely nights. He wanted to hear your voice and kiss your lips. More than anything, he wanted you beside him. Loving him as you could, the way he loved you.
But there was only a shadow by his side, clinging to him with invisible claws. It held your shape and stole your face, but Chrome knew it for the monster that it was.
“Congratulations,” he said politely, handing a beautifully wrapped present to the bride. “May your love be everlasting.”
The couple beamed at him, radiant in their happiness. Their gratitude was as real as his words were false.
He turned away.
Grief is green. Envious eyes, jealous heart. I thought I was healing, but perhaps I am healing wrong. Who is the man in the mirror?
-----------
B L U E | o c e a n d e p t h s
Chrome, you said. Remember to breathe.
I am breathing, he thought, suddenly aware of the rising bubbles all around him. Big and small, wild and free, running towards the light above. Am I breathing?
You laughed. I’m not sure. I can’t tell.
He purposefully took a large gulp. Air flooded into his lungs despite the sunlit ocean around him. He laughed. That’s strange. Have I turned into a fish?
You’re very much not a fish, you confirmed. He couldn’t see you, but your voice was clear. Everywhere and nowhere all at once, like you were the very water itself.
Where are you? He looked around, but there was only the endless sea. Crystalline waters vast and empty, and so beautifully blue.
You sounded sad. Not with you, though I wish I was.
Then come, Chrome said happily. I’ll pick you up. Just like always.
If only you could. But I think I’m a little too far away.
What do you mean?
You didn’t answer. The ocean was growing dark around him, black ink like oil rising from the depths. Smoky tendrils curled around his legs. He shuddered. Trying to kick them off only seemed to create more. He kicked towards the surface, but the sunlight was gone. The waters were ice against his skin, cold and unwelcoming. A black hand closed around his throat.
Chrome thrashed desperately, but there was no escape. The blackness was complete, like the hand of night had crushed the world in its palm. There was no beginning and no end, no up or down. Only a darkness so deep it consumed all else. Help! Don’t leave!
I can’t stay, you said. Your voice was already fading. Let me go, Chrome.
Wait! He inhaled a lungful of grease. Come back!
But you were gone.
The sea swallowed him whole.
-----------
Chrome woke with a start. The room was still grey; his alarm hadn’t gone off yet. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared at the sheets tangled around his feet. There was no black sea after all. Just twisted linen and hopeless dreams.
He rose and got dressed.
Grief is blue. Endless like the ocean and just as deep. Vaster than the sky and just as curious. Always it finds new shapes to take, and new ways to hurt me.
-----------
I N D I G O | s c a r t i s s u e
He’d taken to wearing your engagement ring on a chain around his neck. Always tucked away so nobody could see. Always there, warm against his artificial heart. He fingered the polished metal. It was a simple band. No diamonds or gold, not that there was any left to be had. But you’d smiled at him all the same, accepting his proposal with a giddy joy that had kindled his own.
Chrome had secretly recorded the moment, intending to play it at your wedding. That was a shattered dream now, but he couldn’t bring himself to delete the data. He watched the clip again, smiling softly at the happy grin on your face. You peppered his face with kisses, arms and legs wrapped around his body. There was no audio, but he could hear every word.
He flicked the video off. Things like this no longer bothered him. Distance and time had dulled the pain and stitched his wound closed. The knife’s edge of memory was almost a comfort now, barely a scratch when it used to be a stab. Still, though he no longer bled, the scars lingered. And they would never let him forget. They would never let him forgive.
No amount of time would ever wipe the stain of your blood from his soul.
Grief is indigo. It’s what emerges at the edge of night, when the heat of day has passed. It’s the scar tissue that remains when the wound has closed. Even when it no longer hurts, I’ll always carry the memory of that pain.
-----------
V I O L E T | u n s e e n s o u l
“If we attack from here, we can catch them in a pincer move,” Chrome said, pointing to the map. “Our chances of success will increase.”
“I agree,” she said, flashing a smile at him. Her hand rested close to his, so close he could feel the heat of her on his skin. “Looks like the majority agree with Chrome.” She nodded. “Great. That’s the plan then. Meeting adjourned.”
Chrome made to leave. “Wait, Captain.”
He turned. She smiled at him, clearing her throat awkwardly as she waited for the others to file out. Someone winked at him as the room emptied. His heart sank.
“So,” she started when it was just the two of them. “You really took charge of that meeting.”
“Just doing my job,” he said lightly. “Can I help you with something else?”
She hesitated before meeting his eyes. They were large and earnest, so like yours. And yet so very different. His heart squeezed painfully. “I was wondering if you’d like to catch up for lunch sometime?” she asked shyly. Her voice was small and uncertain, so different from the proud Commandant of minutes ago.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I’m unavailable.”
She deflated immediately. “Really? I thought… I was told that you didn’t have anyone at the moment. Is it just me then?”
“It’s not you. It’s...” He trailed off. There really was no way to say it. “I’m not looking for anything right now.”
“Is it… Is it your fiancee? I heard about what happened.”
Chrome said nothing. She studied him and sighed. “It’s been three years since then, hasn’t it? This could be the start of something new.”
He smiled ruefully. “It could,” he admitted, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “But it won’t. I’m sorry.”
-----------
Chrome returned to his room. Your ring gleamed on the table, scuffed and bent after all the battles it’d seen. You’d loved that thing like it wasn’t just a piece of scrap metal. It carried a piece of your soul and would always be beautiful for it. Because it wasn’t just a fragment of you, it was the part of you that had been given to him freely in love and acceptance. And now, it was the only thing left to him. A dead thing that had taken your place in his heart.
He sighed and sat on the bed. His room was the same as ever. The same four walls, the same white sheets. The same desk and lights and air. Only you had changed, leaving your physical body behind for a ghost that haunted him. But even that was gone now. There was only your ring, and the ash of his memories.
Chrome thought back to the woman. He couldn’t deny that there was a part of him that was drawn to her, but there was a bigger part of him that couldn’t let you go. The Gray Ravens had gotten a new Commandant two years ago, one they treated with as much respect as they had you. Neither Kamui nor Banji had mentioned your name in years. The world had moved on while you slept.
If he joined them and looked to the future, if he allowed himself to forget… You really would disappear. Just another grave. Just another statistic. He couldn’t bear that. Even if the world forgot, he wouldn’t.
So long as he remembered, some piece of you would remain here, with him.
So long as he remembered, he could pretend that life was still worth living. Because deep down, Chrome knew that while his body still moved and his heart still beat, the pieces of him that made him whole had died with you.
And you would always be gone.
Grief is violet. I can’t always see it, but it’s always there. The hidden seventh, an unseen soul. My love, one day, we’ll meet again. And I’ll tell you a brand new story.
Hi. :) Your writing is divine and I would be honored if you fulfilled even one of my requests. Please bestow upon me an emotionally broken, male PGR MC being comforted by Kamui and/or Lee after a long, hard day. Also Kamui and/or Lee going to male Skk needing comfort after anti-Construct discrimination. Or male Skk worrying about his gender while being in love with Kamui, Lee or Chrome.
Courtney! Thank you for the ask! (And for your kind words ❤️)
So, this is actually part 1 of your ask, because I have so many ideas and no time to write them all haha. It's Lee being confronted with anti-Construct discrimination and having an emotionally charged exchange with the Commandant after. I know you requested a male SKK, but I couldn't find a way to bring it up organically so the SKK is written as gender-neutral (I hope that's okay 😣). I wanted the focus of this piece to be a dance between Lee and SKK, a tension that goes unresolved and the comfort that can be found in that liminal space. It ended up being quite long (2.1k), which is why it took a while for me to finish.
Part 2 will feature an emotionally fragile male SKK getting anxious about their gender and feelings towards Kamui when getting comforted physically. I'm not sure when it'll be out since I write best when inspiration strikes, but I hope you'll bear with me until it does!
Okay, enough blabbering that nobody cares about. Go Lee!
Liminal Space // LEE
All done. Lee stood and stretched. The workshop was empty at this hour, nobody to keep him company but white lights and crystalline silence. He liked it. There was a certain sense of clarity in this kind of solitude, like the universe was revealing her tender secrets just for him. The night breathed while the world slept, and Lee loved the quiet of his own thoughts.
He’d just finished developing an inver-device for his robots. The complexity of such technology had been beyond his understanding for a long time, but he’d studied it and he’d figured it out. There was pride to take in such human things, he thought. The simplicity of learning.
He put the little bot in his pocket and made his way down the brightly lit corridors. Even at this hour, Babylonia dreamt in working colours. Offices blazed with golden light. Labs leaked blues and greens as Constructs underwent maintenance or emergency surgery. There was no true rest here, not in this place cradled by starlight.
He’d almost arrived at his room when a harsh voice tore through the veiled silence. “Hey. You.”
Lee stopped, but didn’t turn around. A midnight confrontation usually went one of two ways. He highly doubted it was going to be the pleasant one. “Something to say?” he asked coolly.
“Yeah, in fact, I do.” The vitriol in the man’s voice was clear. His footsteps drew close. “We don’t need you filthy things. Humanity can fight its own war. You bloody robots can eat shit.” A hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Once we reclaim the earth, there’ll be no place for things like you.”
“If you say so,” Lee said, reaching up to brush the man’s clammy fingers from his shirt. “Now if you’ll excuse me--” An arm shoved him roughly against the wall. The man was stocky, with bloodshot eyes sunk deep in his lined face. His breath stank of alcohol. “No,” he slurred in Lee’s face. “I don’t think I will. What’re you gonna do about it, filth?”
Lee wanted very much to put his knee between the man’s legs. How easy it would be to overpower this pathetic drunk, to give him a dangerous awareness of the fragility of human flesh. But the consequences of such behaviour were simply unacceptable. He schooled his features into neutrality, blue eyes like chips of ice. “I’m not going to do anything,” he said. “You’re not worth my time.”
The man’s face twisted with rage. He slammed Lee’s head against the wall with enough force to rattle his teeth. His vision glitched. “Fuck you,” the man hissed, spittle flying like bullets. “You’re an abomination.”
“Maybe,” Lee admitted. “But I’m still better than you.”
A wad of spit landed on his cheek, wet and sour and foul. “Fuck you,” the stranger said again. Then the anger seemed to drain from him, replaced by an intense disdain Lee reciprocated. He spat once more in Lee’s face before releasing him. “If the earth is going to be populated by freaks like you,” he said. “Then we might as well let the bloody Punishing have it.” He sauntered down the hall, swaying as though he walked on invisible waves.
Prick, Lee thought. He watched the man disappear around a corner before scrubbing a sleeve across his cheek. The wetness smeared across his face, like an oil slick across water. He cringed. Disgusting.
Straightening his jacket, he made his way down the corridor. His mood had soured considerably, all the more because the man had something vaguely resembling a point. He’d never permitted himself to dwell on it, and there had never really been the time nor space, but the truth was that Earth was for humanity. It always had been, and it always would be. People like him were needed now, but one day, under blue skies and birdsong, they would no longer be necessary. Just remnants of a time rather forgotten.
He paused outside your room. Soft golden light peeked out from under the door, like an invitation he didn’t know how to accept. What am I doing here?
The door slid open soundlessly. “Lee?”
Suddenly, you stood before him, all messy hair and tired eyes. You looked exhausted, but somehow still radiant, like a fire blazed just out of sight. No matter how dim, it never went out. Lee stuttered. “H-How did you know I was here?”
“I sensed fluctuations in your M.I.N.D,” you said, flashing a small smile. “And I recognise your footsteps.” Lee flushed, but said nothing. He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes.
“I should--”
You cut him off with a sweeping gesture. “Come in. I need some distraction from all this paperwork, anyway.” You didn’t wait for him to accept. Stepping aside, you poured yourself another cup of coffee and took a sip. “Can’t live without this stuff,” you said, grimacing at the bitter taste. “Though I really wish I could.”
Lee sighed. The door clicked shut softly behind him. He looked different in the warm glow of your lamp, all his hard edges blurred into something tender and vulnerable. “You really should take better care of your health, Commandant,” he said, snatching the cup neatly from your fingers. “Starting with going to bed at a reasonable time.”
You laughed. “You’re one to talk, Lee. Constructs need sleep too, you know?”
“Not as much as you.” He sniffed the confiscated coffee. “This smells terrible.”
“It’s not that bad. Does the job.”
“A job that shouldn’t need doing,” he scoffed, tipping the brown liquid down the drain. You studied him, noting the way he seemed to move just a little too stiffly, a little too absently. Lee was meticulous about everything, living his life with the precision of a needle. His M.I.N.D. was like a lake, a glassy mirror to the sky and stars, the world’s beauty reflected back to her heavenly eyes. Quiet and calm, tranquil. Two fluctuations within half an hour certainly wasn’t the norm.
“What happened?” you asked after a time, when the silence between you had grown heavy. He bristled. “Nothing.”
“Lee.”
His words came slowly, like they were dug from some secret grave where they’d been left to die. You waited patiently. His words were rare. To know his thoughts was a treasure beyond worth. “I ran into someone unpleasant outside the workshop,” he said finally. “They attacked me.”
Anger flared to life within you. “Who?” you growled, trying to calm the animal urge to fight, to protect. Lee didn’t look at you. “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “I diffused the situation.”
“Then why are you so upset,” you demanded. “Nobody can hurt you, so what did they say?” He fell silent once more. You forced yourself to still, to be a confidant instead of a bully. There was no forcing Lee; he would tell you or he wouldn’t. When he spoke again, there was a bitterness in his voice that was heartbreaking.
“The Earth isn’t meant for people like me, Commandant,” he said. “We’re fighting to return it to its rightful owners. People like you.”
“Is that what they told you?” you asked, fighting to keep the emotion from your tone. “The Earth belongs to all of us. Including you.”
He smiled ruefully. “Always an optimist. But you’re wrong. Us Constructs know nothing but war. We were built for it, after all. When Earth comes back to us, it’ll need kinder hands to guide it. To heal it.”
You’d heard enough. You strode up to him and unwound his crossed arms. His eyes widened, those beautiful eyes bluer than the ocean and just as deep. “These hands are kind,” you said, turning his palms up to the sky. “These hands build robots. These hands protect me.” You brushed a thumb over his skin. “These hands protected Murray. So tell me, how are you not fit to heal the Earth?”
His breath caught, just slightly. Your name drifted from his lips like forbidden fruit, caught somewhere between meaning and insignificance. “It’s not the container, but what’s in it,” you continued, staring at his metallic right hand. The black steel was dull in the gloom, chipped paint and scuff marks marred the smooth surface. Proof of a life lived in danger, of a selfless devotion to the terrible war. You laced your fingers through his. “A body built for war isn’t the same as a soul made for one. A hand that kills isn’t the same as a heart that’s cruel. I don’t care what anybody says, if reclaiming the Earth means abandoning the people who fought for it, then let the Punishing have that damned rock.” You were painfully aware of the space between you, a distance that seemed to shrink but never close. “The future I fight for,” you finished quietly. “Is one with you in it.”
Lee was silent. Your fingers between his were like a brand upon his soul. He didn’t know what to say. All his words felt awkward, like the clumsy tatters of a dream. They stuck in his throat, choking him, but there was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to show you.
You moved to pull away. Don’t leave. Without thought, he tugged with his robotic hand, pulling you into an embrace that was at once desperate and tender. He held you against him, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. “I was more upset than I realised,” he said softly, breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Thank you, Commandant.”
“Of course,” you said, pressing yourself just a little closer to him. “Anything for you, Lee.”
You stayed like that a while, and it was like the whole world paused. Just you and Lee suspended in a moment protected by the very night itself. You breathed in his scent, clean air on an ocean breeze, and rested your head in the crook of his neck. The warmth of another body, the press of skin on skin. You hadn’t realised how much you’d needed it.
When the moment broke, Lee’s cheeks were flushed. He pulled away. “S-Sorry,” he said awkwardly, as if all the embarrassment of the past few minutes was hitting him all at once.
You laughed, perhaps a little too sharply. A little too breathlessly. “Nothing to apologise for,” you said. “I think we both needed that.”
You cleared your throat. Something had happened, something that lingered in the air still. You could almost reach out and touch it, if only you dared. But you let it fade, felt it disappear from the air as if it had never been there at all.
Because you weren’t ready. And neither was Lee. Perhaps one day, you thought with some regret. But not today.
Sighing, you moved back to your desk and leaned against it. Picking up a file, you scanned it absently before tossing it back down. You quirked a smile at Lee. “Do you want to stay awhile?” you asked, gesturing to the pile of reports on your desk. “Plenty of riveting work to be done.”
Lee snorted. “As if I don’t have better things to do.”
“Do you?” You sat down. Here you both were again, back in familiar waters. A push, a pull, a constant tug-of-war. Never a winner, just the eternal game. It was both a comfort and a curse.
Lee grabbed a stack of papers and settled on the couch. “No,” he said. “Not tonight.”
---------------------
You rubbed a hand over your face. Some hours had passed since you’d invited Lee to stay. Though he didn’t look any worse for wear, you were quickly losing steam. Your mind had long lost its focus for reports. Instead, you studied Lee’s face in the gloom, admiring the perfect symmetry of his features. He was so beautiful.
You shifted on the couch. You’d migrated here a while ago with a blanket thrown over your outstretched legs. Your bare foot rested against Lee’s thigh, though neither of you acknowledged it. Sighing, you tossed the report to the ground. Your vision was so bleary you could barely make out the words anymore. Only one question drifted in your mind, still coherent after the delirium of six cups of coffee and no sleep.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” you whispered in the semi-darkness. “Why did you let some asshole attack you?”
Lee didn’t look at you. He was silent for so long you didn’t think he’d answer at all. “Because,” he said finally. “I didn’t want you to get into trouble, Commandant. Misconduct from me reflects poorly on you. I’m not going to disgrace you.”
You chuckled. “I think I would have been rather proud.”
“That’s because you’re reckless,” he said dryly.
“Guilty as charged.”
Several long moments passed. Your eyes drifted shut. “Sleep,” Lee said. “I’ll finish up.”
You were already half gone, free-falling towards an ocean as black as night.
You could have sworn something soft brushed against your temple.
Can I request for a ficlet (or whichever your comfy with) about Kamui?
What if... Kamui feels insecure about his self? Like... We all know Kamui is NOT the original personality, Camu is. What if he starts questioning, "Am I good enough? Am I even real?" Like an identity crisis of sorts. And then he develops an inferiority complex towards Camu, Lee or Watanabe, or anyone.
I'd like to see how this would go 👉👈
Waah, my first request ever! 😭 *desperately tries to breathe* Thank you for the ask! Kamui is a precious bean, but Imma put him through pain for you haha.
Kamui hides a lot of stuff, but feels very deeply. His insecurities would probably drive him to try to fix himself. Of course, in this case, he can't. I wanted to explore the frustration, anger, and loneliness in that sort of helplessness, which is ultimately what inspired this. It's a more introspective piece (and slightly tangent to your actual ask), but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
The Space Between Stars // KAMUI
Kamui punched the bag again, letting the motion dissipate the anger inside him. There was no real purpose to the activity. He wasn’t a human, after all. He didn’t need to work out. His body was an engine that wouldn’t expire; his muscles would never atrophy. This whole thing was an exercise in futility, but one that he found himself doing with increasing frequency. Every night, he found himself back here. Always the same hopeless conversation with his fists. Always the same burn in his knuckles, and the fiercer burn in his heart. It was easier to do this than to find answers to the questions that haunted him in the dark.
Because the truth was that he didn’t know who he was anymore. Everything about him felt paper-thin, like he could be washed away by the rain. Just ink running into the sea, a temporary stain upon the world that would soon be forgotten. He gave the bag a vicious uppercut. He didn’t want to be forgotten. He didn’t want to be temporary.
He wanted to be real. As real as Camu, with all the terrible things that shaped the human experience. But that was an impossible dream. Because no matter how advanced he was, no matter how convincing, he was a lie. A miraculous, transcendent lie that walked and talked and loved, but still just a pale imitation in the end. Lines of code trying to emulate life. A meaningless collection of ones and zeroes. That’s all he was.
He lacked a human consciousness, a treasure more precious than gold. And without it, all he had were his mechanical body and chemical heart. How could he call himself real when every part of him had been assembled? Were these thoughts even his own?
“Dammit,” he grunted. His foot connected with the cylinder. It went flying, swaying drunkenly in the air. Metal chains rattled their displeasure. Kamui reached out to steady it with a hand, feeling the tremors travel through his fingers. He imagined them careening through his body, through his twisted wires pretending to be veins. Imagined them nesting in his metallic core, trembling ever on, pulsing like a stolen heart. “Dammit.” He leaned heavily against the wall. “Captain. Commandant. How do I deal with this?”
Sweet, cursed silence. Of course. Kamui laughed - a choked, broken sound. The image of you with the Gray Ravens came unbidden to his mind. He saw the way you laughed with them, your eyes alight with joy. The way they seemed to bring out the best in you when he never could. Was it because they possessed something he didn’t? Jealousy flushed through him, gone as quickly as it had come. His shoulders slumped. “I never could compare, huh,” he said softly. “I don’t understand a lot of things, but it seems like this is one thing I do get.”
Sighing, Kamui peeled himself from the wall. His temperature regulation system was kicking in, raising goosebumps across his exposed chest as if in mockery. He shrugged into a shirt and tugged his gloves off. His bare feet were soft against the cold floor. He padded back to his room in the dark, unable to strip his mind of its worries. His anger was long gone, burned to dust, leaving behind only the taste of ash and a deep loneliness that swallowed the world. All this time he’d thought he was trying to catch up to Lee and Watanabe, but he wasn’t even running the same race. He’d never felt more helpless in his life. Even when Koya had died, there had been a choice. A chance. A sliver of hope that had slipped like sand through his open fingers.
Even then, Kamui had chosen to fight, to reach into the abyss in search of the light. He didn’t know how else to exist. But this wasn’t something he could fight. There was no possibility and no hope, only an ugly truth like a dead-end that caged him in. He stepped into the shower, wishing he could wash away the doubts in his mind as easily as the sweat on his body. But the thoughts clung to him, dark and insidious, infecting him like poisoned blood. “Stop,” he whispered to the emptiness. “Stop haunting me like this.”
But there was only the sound of water on skin, and the endless dark.
I've been looking for Ana ctuve fate blog for forever omg ily
Ahhh, my main blog is kind of a collection of all my hyper-fixations so it's a bit of a chaotic mess haha 😅 But what you can expect in terms of Fate content include pretty art (reblogged ofc) and possibly headcanons/fics in the future! 😊 Thank you for the ask! ❤️
