HIIIIII have a bit of that robot au oneshot i was tapping away at ummmmm (checks timestamp) ...uhhh nvm about that dont worryy. this is some vague cyperpunk-robot au
Tsunagu walks towards the door, pondering what to do. Relishing in the new-awareness way of how his body moves. It’s something that happens to everyone if they have a new limb attached- an awareness that lasts for a few days. Shinya’s here for a checkup. A reboot. But he’s also not due for a few more hours… unless Tsunagu had lost that much time installing the new hands. Unlikely. He doesn’t have a clock in the surgery room, so it’s possible, but unlikely.
The door swings open with a thought and the barest hint of electric impulse. The gears Tsunagu installed in it whirr as they open, and-
“Oh, Shinya,” Tsunagu sighs, squatting down. The body is illuminated by a streetlight, flickering in the depths of the night- not that there’s a night here, this place is buried in the depths of the city. Towering buildings and platforms. Tsunagu lives in the neat divide between well-off and poor. He’s good enough for both, but charges on a different scale for each. It’s almost like a reverse scale- the more essential the surgery is, the more Tsunagu has to work to piece someone together or fix them, the cheaper it will be. Sometimes. He trades in favours and information, bargain deals and items.
Shinya has been one of his repeat patients for a long while -it was him that had gotten Tsunagu the location of his twelfth-grade copper wire- and, looking at him now, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Shinya’s chassis has been split right open- caved open, Tsunagu sees now that he’s tilting his head. He can see the interior of it. It’s all spark-crystals, resonant metals, one little energy source rebounding and amplifying -the energy chain theory, that was what Shinya had been built off of- until it could power a consciousness. A body.
Tsunagu clicks his gears together, spinning out the frustration. “Idiot,” He says, flicking Shinya’s arm. The metal resounds with a soft ping. “I just fixed you last week. Couldn’t you have waited? We had an appointment scheduled in a few… what, hours.”
Shinya’s eyes flick on, grey lights peering out from the monochrome scheme of his face. Body. Even the crystals, and like, Tsunagu gets that there’s a theme, but there’s such a thing as going too hard. “What can I say?” Shinya says, static making the words blur into each other. His voice dips high, then low. Voicebox damage as well, then. It’s a good thing Tsunagu has taken to keeping spares of Shinya around. “I missed you- so much. I just had to get your hands in me after this long.” His voice is crackly. Like the old taperecorders that floated around sometimes.
“Shut up.” Tsunagu stands, looking around. Nobody here. Not like that’s unusual. “Can you walk?”
“If I try very hard,” Shinya solemnly says, words shorting out on the hard. Tsunagu is getting tired just thinking about the repairs. One of these days he’s going to put Shinya’s personality unit and processing systems into a computer for timeout. “Yes. But I think you’ll yell afterwards, and I don’t want that.”
“I wouldn’t yell,” Tsunagu mutters, reaching out with a pulse of electricity-nerve-connect to his house. The door opens, a vague, creeping, knowledge of his house seeping into Tsunagu again. Clearer than last time- the more he does this, reconnecting and disconnecting, the easier it’ll get. Multiple bodies, one mind. “Alright, stay still,” Tsunagu warns Shinya, right as the tentacles clear the door.
Well. Not tentacles as in from the octopi that live in the deep oceans, but tentacles as in long, flexible, limbs that Tsunagu can control. They’re black, a stark void against Shinya’s white-worn body. Shinya makes a little squeaking noise, and Tsunagu glances over, concerned.
“V-v-v-voicebox error,” Shinya says, staticky. It almost sounds like embarrassment. “Did you- upgrade your house again?”
🐝 It's Like Forgetting the Words to Your Favorite Song
Tsunagu stares down at his hands. Logically, intellectually, he knows these are his hands. They aren't just hands.
He flexes them. After what seems like a half-second of delay, they move.
Tsunagu breathes. He can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.
He looks around him. Four walls and a hospital bed. The lights are a shining yellow. The floor is a blinding white. There is Shinya, sitting next to him. As always.
For once, Tsunagu is sick of it. The thought disgusts him. Thrills him, tingling across nerve and neuron, something completely new.
Shinya's eyes, mist rising off of the sea at dusk, look at him gently. Tenderly. Joyfully. Like a spark to tinder. There is something there between him and Tsunagu. Wariness, but no fear, like Shinya had just- disregarded the possibility that he would be hurt.
Tsunagu would normally look back just the same. Normally.
His hands twitch on the blankets, quirk-restraining cuffs on his wrists. They're not connected to one another, but the more Tsunagu looks at them the more he wants to pull and pull and rip until his hands come off at the wrists and he's free.
--
Or: There is something very wrong with Hakamada Tsunagu.
IVE BEEN WAITING OVER A MONTH TO ANSWER THIS ASK QUILL I'M SO SORRY.
anyways
puppet!tsu!!!!! my boy!!! <3
he is from my fic here. it is an au. i promised myself that i'd free him from the inbox when i published chapter ten... and it is published. just not all of it.
um anyways... yeah im not sure. what else to say here. but read my fic if you like angst and gore and au. i have like, two/three other advertisement posts for it. it has 55k+ words and ten kudos. if you read it please leave a comment i am a constantly-starving ao3 author
but anyways FEAST YOUR EYES UPON PUPPET!TSU. i love him and your art quill. thank you for drawing him i adore it
2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?
hm... okay i cannot think of any common writing tropes off the top of my head. let me. let me google this. okay i'm back from asking google (friends) and i guess outside POV, if that counts? if not, then. probably enemies to lovers
11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?
hobby! for now. probably. a little too busy for it to upgrade to passion.
13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?
this is something i've seen in a lot of places and forgot where i found it and something i've told people: fuck around, have fun, and do it for yourself. and cite your sources when needed.
🐝 I Hear in My Mind All of This Music— And it Breaks My Heart
I Hear in My Mind All of This Music— And it Breaks My Heart
Tsunagu is accustomed to filling up silence with noise, which, he knows, it’s a bad habit. Will lead him to bad things.
But as a child, he really didn’t expect to start hearing voices in the middle of the night.
Every single day, at the cusp of midnight, there will be someone screaming into his ear. Whispering. Talking.
It’s usually screaming from something that sounds like they’re in pain. A few times he’s has had blood come out of his ears. Once Tsunagu had been reduced to tears at the misery that had come through.
It’s become a little bit of a routine. Get home, finish his work, study and eat and wait for midnight. Then listen.
I love you, I love you, I love you- here today on this show we’ll be- help help help help help- please, please, it hurts, please- there is a room, this is a room, this is a room, we are a room- the walls are painted with a silver, the colour of clouds- end statement- mom? mom!!- I’m lost, is anyone there- I do- Objection! Your Honour, the client is clearly lying- you FUCKING WHORE- initiating startup… welcome back- next station, Hokkaido- one soda, please- oh, oh, please more, don’t stop- turn the volume down!- is anyone listening? I’m so lonely…- well excuse me for not catering to your every need- oh fuck they’re pretty- birdie!!- this room is vast and full of holes- we need a new table- homework??- where’s my phone- RUN- my father was deaf, you know?- this is how you skate. See- dad I can’t reach the top- oooh, maze, very nice- it looks like a dinosaur- four ate five and I’ll eat you too- today we mourn the deaths of- thunderbolts, lightning strikes what the fuck is next, a- THAT’S SO COOL!!- yuck- the ocean- lift the hammer, child- in the beginning there was- ohhh I forgot to study ohhh I’m so screwed- i wonder how she’s doing?- what do you mean napalm skies, that’s an explosive-
Tsunagu’s heard it all, throughout the years. There’s… a disproportionate amount of begging.
Screaming. The words and sentences are mixed in with all sorts of sounds- crack of a whip, doors opening, laughter, explosions, static, metal crunching, the scratch of a disk, footsteps- everything.
Tsunagu hasn’t heard every word under the sun, but he’s pretty sure he can make a case for every sound under the sun.
Shinya makes a face, turning the word over in his mind.
Brother.
Hmm.
He doesn't... hate it. That's really all he can say.
Tsunagu huffs, biting down on his ice-cream bar, leaning on the metal railing on the roof. Shinya's sitting on it, legs dangling on the safe side and back facing to the city. "That was weird," Tsunagu says, swallowing his bite of strawberry ice cream.
Shinya makes a noncommittal noise, spoon still in his mouth and tongue still tasting vanilla. He puts the cup on the railing, trusting it not to fall. If it falls he'll be so disappointed. "I'm playing Tetris in my head right now, trust me," Shinya replies dryly. He'll bet anything that Tsunagu is trying to get the taste of their most recent other-person interaction out of his head by confronting it head-on.
He's audacious that way. Shinya isn't too sure how he does it.
Tsunagu frowns. "Tetris?"
"It helps with blunting the impact of a recent traumatic event if it's done quick enough." Shinya shovels another mouthful of ice-cream into his mouth, swallowing quickly. "I'm hoping it'll work for this too."
Tsunagu laughs. "Fair point. Give me some of your one, we'll swap. This-" He shakes the ice-cream bar. "-is too crunchy."
"Crunchy?"
"They put the actual cone in when making them."
--
a pre-romance edgejeanist relationship study. they are teenagers. also the tetris thing is real
Just Frame the Halves and Call Them Brothers (original snippet)
Shinya and Tsunagu exchange looks. “Yep,” Shinya ends up saying, after a second of what is not telekinetic communication but what he kinda wishes was. “We’re, uh, second cousins. I think.”
Why are they doing this. Surely they can just-
Shinya remembers the other route is pretending they’re dating and his viewpoint turns one-hundred and eighty degrees.
This is fine, actually, mainly because he’s not sure if his heart could take it if they did pretend to be dating. But whatever. Shinya could take it but it'd hurt a little, which is his own problem and not Tsunagu's. He's too busy to deal with crushes more deep than puppy love, anyways, at Yuuei.
“That or half-siblings,” Tsunagu says smoothly. “We’re waiting on the DNA test results.”
The bottom of Shinya’s pants constricts once, gently, around his ankles, and then returns to normal. “I still don’t think we needed to do the test,” Shinya grumbles on cue, crossing his arms and looking down. “We could have just asked-“ He stalls, brain blanking on family members.
“I see you’ve regained your senses. If I talk to your-" Here, Tsunagu pauses, something flickering across his face. It's an act. It's terrifyingly good. Sometimes Shinya wonders if Tsunagu's been acting all his life, in one capacity or another. Shinya has, sometimes, when he was younger and with that terrifying well of rage at his fingertips at all times. It's still there, just… a little bit burnt up, he supposes. Used up. He's calmed down a little after getting into Yuuei. Or perhaps he's just gotten more used to it. Frog in wells and boiling pots and all that. "-well. Our. Grandfather. He will flay me alive."
"Would he really?" Shinya asks, not knowing jack shit about grandfathers or mothers or fathers. He raises an eyebrow.
"Yes."
The staff member manning the entrance to that very fancy hall they were meant to be at five minutes ago hums, bemused. "I see how it is. Your passes?"
Shinya hands his over -printed out from the internet and forged under their steady hands, Shinya-and-Tsunagu and a few years worth of calligraphy lessons (more Tsunagu for the fine details than Shinya, he was better at forgery) at war with the shit quality of brushes they'd had to work with- and Tsunagu does the same.
They check them and the staff member waves the two of them through, already going for the next person in line.
Shinya walks at Tsunagu's side for a few moments. They're both utterly silent until they're out of earshot.
"I can't believe that worked," Shinya says. "What the fuck."
"I can." Tsunagu shrugs. "I've done worse."
Shinya can believe that.
"Isn't this- meant to be one of those rich people parties where they shoot people on sight?" Shinya hooks an arm through Tsunagu's and steers him away from an oncoming luggage-trolley thing. "I've done these things too. But this is supposed to be…" His face wrinkles up a little. "I've heard rumors."
"Mhm. So have I," Tsunagu returns. "but there's- a specific section of people that can get through, I guess? I'm not too sure how to put it. If you look good enough, and you have something that's close enough to the invite, and you act like you know what you're doing. Well." He gestures around them.
Shinya heaves a sigh through his nose. "I try to forget that the upper echelons of our society is half-held-up by posturing," He grumbles, adjusting the hairclip in his hair. It's a buttery gold, metal, and Shinya isn't sure if it's pyrite or actual gold. Tsunagu had shrugged when he asked. They'd gotten it from some yakuza guy. "And then you remind me."
"Sorry," Tsunagu says, utterly unremorseful. His green eyes blink innocently at Shinya. They're unfairly big. "I"ll get us ice cream later to make up for it."
🐝 All My Love and Terror Balanced There Between Those Eyes
All My Love and Terror Balanced There Between Those Eyes
“Please,” Shinya whispers, back against a wall and eyes wide. There are people staring at him. Eyes everywhere. He can hear voices laughing, talking, footsteps pounding, pacing. There is someone after him. There is someone chasing him. There are people looking at him and that is unacceptable.
Shinya’s fingers shake. He’s crying. The smog is curling around him. Coiling. Muffling. “Please,” Shinya says again, pleading.
It descends.
The fog has no mouth. It has no jaw and yet he is in the belly of the beast. Thank the fucking gods.
Shinya lurches forward, hands swiping in front of him with grasping hands that meet nothing but air. There is nobody around him. The relief consumes him whole.
The fog curls around him. It is the same colour as his eyes. He can breathe again, fear waning away.
It parts with every wave of Shinya’s arms before coming back twice as strong. Hiding him. Enshrouding him.
Shinya stumbles and lands on his knees next to an upright coffin. A marble mausoleum.
The coffin is glass, and Shinya knows immediately -intimately, enticingly, peacefully- that it will be his.
He will always be screaming at a glass wall. Beating his fists against the invisible barrier. Salvation and isolation all in one.
Not for the first time, Shinya considers the benefits of getting consumed by another Entity, remembers there will be people outside, and drops the thought like it’s on fire.
——
Shinya is being hunted. Has been hunted and haunted by green and gold eyes that piece through fog like a lighthouse. Footsteps have always heralded his doom. He’s run and ran though streets, countries, oceans.
And yet. Shinya is still being followed. Doggedly.
