I've been writing a lot nd wanted to have it out in the aether.
TTRPG Robots. What if you were haunted by God and your brother/creator doesn't believe you.
There is someone in the room, someone watching as his brother repairs his neck panels. He can hear a drill, a soldering iron. Smell the dim heat and tin oozing. He doesn’t feel anything- just this frequent sense of weightlessness.
The figure crosses their legs. He knows that patch. He knows those shoes.
Brother? he asks in his mind.
God. The figure replies. Also in his mind.
He feels like. crying he supposes. He isn’t meant to be able to cry yet. He can feel himself overheating, his complex fans whirring. Ah, fuck man.
“Are… you meant to hear voices. In your head?”
His brother pauses. Snaps his neck panels shut and gently brushes his hair back in place.
“No. I’ve never experienced anything like that.”
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The first time Citrine puts the picture into Cinnabar’s hands, he had barely learnt how to think. His brother, and another man looked back at him. The photo was still paper- something they rarely used on the station. It was framed, and intrinsically he knew that this was a test of his touch. Make sure not to break the glass, don’t bend the wood. I’m trusting you, his brother was telling him. I believe you can take this step.
He looks a few more minutes. Citrine looked younger. He thought. Not as young as a baby- but maybe the same age as Cinnabar was meant to be now. A teenager. Maybe a young adult. He looks up to confirm his suspicions.
There’s oil, oozing down Citrine’s skin. He watches it travel down his cheek, and ignores it politely. Things got messy when you were undergoing repairs. Citrine seems to be able to recognise what he was going to say and answers the question echoing in his mind.
“That’s my older brother. Funny, huh? I built your eyes to look like his. He taught me everything I know. Bismuth.”
Cinnabar tilts his head a little to the side. Applies a little more pressure via his fingertips. The wood creaks- so he releases. Test passed. He knows how to hold things, and he knows he’s not meant to break things that are important.
Citrine’s face, so proud, so smiling, finally falls. He can feel his brain ticking over the moment, can retrace his steps to make sure that doesn’t happen again. He scrambles to apologize but it—
Citrine taps him with the screwdriver in his hands.
“It’s not cute of you to ask about death. You know better.”
It feels like he’s failed the test. He wants to do… something. He hasn’t learnt the word yet and it’s endlessly frustrating. He feels himself start to overheat, and his body fans whirr to correct that. He can feel his hydraulics rushing as he squeezes his hands into a fist. Until that hand shakes.
Citrine kisses the top of his head. He’s still learning, so he has to forgive him, right. He doesn’t say sorry this time. He doesn’t know that’s the right thing to do yet.
Second. More robots. Clear Bad End AU. What if he got a second chance.
“Clear? You’re acting really strange..” says this Aoba who can walk. Who can see. Who Clear only remembers in a lone memory.
Of course, he thought. Of course I’m acting strange. I’m not a real person how am I supposed to act?
He tries to do something. Laugh. Make a face, show this Aoba what for. But in that moment, when Aoba’s eyes meet with his, he can feel his mouth go dry. He doesn’t know what to do when Aoba looks at him anymore. He feels so unsure.
This Aoba turns back to look at him after such a long pause. He was busy making…. fried rice? That’s what his data supplies. He looks troubled, eyebrows raised. He puts down the knife that he was chopping an onion with. Clear knows he… should be keeping track of the knife, but Aoba’s expressions are so open and honest it’s blinding.
“Honestly, is it because you’re not wearing your gas mask? Usually you’d be looking away, now it’s like you can’t stop staring. It’s creepy!”
This Aoba does something the other couldn't wouldn’t do. He takes a hand and puts it on Clear’s shoulder. Studies Clear’s face. Ssssmiles at him. He’s too scared to move. His hands are shaking.
He wants to hold Aoba’s face in his hands. He wants to wrap them around his throat so the expression twists and he can see the exact moment it changes. He wants to crush him so hard he shatters into perfect pieces. He doesnt do any of that. He stands there stupidly. He lets Aoba look at him.
Aoba pats his face gently. He pokes Clear’s moles. Clear’s so nauseous he’s genuinely impressed they’ve programmed that into him.
Third. Rinne/HiMERU. On saying nothing when you should say anything at all. Meeting the little brother
HiMERU guesses what surprises him most is who goes first. While Rinne looks slack jawed and Niki looks like he’s trying to levitate something with his mind, Kohaku walks up to Kaname’s bedside. He bows his head slightly, leaned forward.
“Kaname-han. Thank you for taking care of our HiMERU-han. You would’ve been my senpai in Reimei, so I’ll also be under your care.”
HiMERU feels like he’s been shot. Feels the cavernous pit of nerves in his stomach chew their way up for tears. It’s like a spell is broken in the moment, Niki rushing forward to take Kaname’s hand.
“Genuinely, genuinely, Kaname-kun! You’ve been keeping HiMERU-kun company haven’t you! Thank you! You know he’s always so standoffish, and he never wants to eat fully—“
Kaname’s hands are limp. They sway under Niki’s strong grip, but it’s like he’s manhandling a corpse. Niki’s lovely tan only serves to highlight just how pallid Kaname is now. HiMERU tears his eyes away, then. He needs to. stop focusing on the bad. Think more about how kind they’re being.
Rinne’s behind him, hand rested on the small of his back for a second. And then it’s gone, Rinne moving forward to stand next to Niki.
His voice is so low and soft, a tone Rinne took only a few times when HiMERU knew him. That little conversation when they thought it was all over. The first time HiMERU met him, truly.
“‘S nice to meet you, little Merumeru. I can see why your big brother kept you all safe. You remind me of my own.”
HiMERU had resolved not to cry. He really had. He looks out towards the skyline. Kohaku’s next to him.
“Mhm. So it is.” Kohaku replies.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
The only one who stays longer is Rinne. He sits opposite HiMERU, watching Kaname breathe. Watches HiMERU breathe. HiMERU wants to be grumpy- wants to say ‘Amagi, if you have something to say please spit it out' but he just… can’t. He doesn’t have the energy, he’s really too tired. He feels like his insides are on the outside, feels more tender and fragile than he ever has under Rinne’s gaze.
Rinne doesn’t crack a joke, he doesn’t smirk. He does open and close his mouth a few times, like a fish. HiMERU finds it cute, somewhere in the back of his mind, but thinks he’ll cry if he thinks of his own desires in this moment.
Rinne breaks the silence first, because he is brave where HiMERU is a coward.
“Merumeru… It’s good of you, to trust us. I guess I should be thanking you. Honestly, I thought I would be chasing you under that mask for the rest of my life.”
HiMERU nearly laughs hysterically. His bitter side wants to comment “I’m sure Amagi would’ve chased the next gamble he found.” He knows he’s wrong. He knows he’s just insecure and lashing out. Again, he says nothing. If he spoke, the tears would come back and his voice would be hoarse. And that would just be humiliating.
“Hey, I’m going to embarrass the both of us here. But I think… I think you’ll know what I’m getting at. Considering all we’ve done together.”
Warm memories. A stolen kiss in a green room. Rinne pressing a can of coffee to his neck during a break. The intensely beaming smile Rinne gave him when he stayed over at Niki’s and helped him cook dinner. His heart races and he doesn’t feel ready for this at all. He freezes when Rinne leaves the bedside to walk slowly over to him.
“You make me… feel needy for you. Like I want to be greedy, for… Whatever you’ll give me.”
Rinne looks at him, steadily. HiMERU wants to look away because Rinne’s face is. Too open. Too honest. It makes his shrivelled heart hurt. He’s scared to hurt that face
“Because of that… I want to ask a favor? You can reject it, that’s fine.”
He’s so close now. Behind HiMERU, hands wrapping around him. His breath tickles the back of HiMERU’s neck. He’s glad not to be seeing that face, at least. It’s easier to be honest when no one can see him. When the hope that someone will recognise him is tempered.
“Hey, Merumeru…. Won’t you… let me call you by your real name first..?”
