#all star camus

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star) Memorial

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Love End Memorial - I Shall Obey You Unconditionally

I was awakened by the morning light filtering through the shoji doors.

…It was a bit chilly.

I was startled by the thought. I’m feeling chilly?

I gradually became more alert and aware of the situation. I was not in my room but lying on a futon in a Japanese inn.

I normally sleep in a warmer manner, so it might make sense to feel cold sleeping in this way.

Despite the cold, the left side of my body felt pleasantly warm.

I brushed the hair out of her face and moved to look at her, finding her peacefully sleeping close to me.

“...Haruka.”

Right, I must have fallen asleep last night.

She seemed blissfully unaware that I had woken up, and continued to sleep soundly.

Moving… might wake her.

It was still too early to get up. I should just hold her in my arms for a while longer to keep warm.

That's what I would have liked, but Haruka's eyelids twitched slightly, my movement most likely disturbing her sleep.

“...Nn…”

Soon her eyes flutter open.

She was still not entirely awake, but will gather her bearings for a few moments.

“Are you up?”

“Ah!”

I called out to her and she snapped to look at me with an unexpected noise.

“C-Camus-senpai…?”

“...You’ve got quite the pipes.”

“S-Sorry…”

She was wide awake in a flash, and I was amused to see her blushing face.

“I thought I’d heard it all last night, but this one will keep me entertained for the foreseeable future.”

“Eh… Ah… Ugh…”

Haruka turned redder and redder. It was a delightful view, but then she started trying to obscure her face with the comforter.

…Now it’s cold.

“Don’t steal it all. I’m cold.”

“I-I’m sorry. B-But…”

“Give it here.”

I grabbed onto one of the edges of the comforter and pulled on it.

I don't usually feel the cold, and I didn't think I could stand it.

“B-But I…”

Haruka, who was normally a quiet girl, stood her ground and pulled back with a surprising amount of force.

We each grabbed a piece of comforter at each end, and tugged at it for a while.

“You dare defy me?”

“It was never my intention… but I can’t let you have this.”

“Guh… Give it up already.”

“Hn… No… I won't lose.”

Like children, we fought over the bedding in our room at the inn, bathed in the morning sun. 

When it finally dawned on me, I couldn't help but smile, finding the whole scene oddly funny.

Haruka's hands momentarily relaxed their hold, perhaps surprised by my sudden smile.

I seized the opportunity to take the comforter away from her.

“Ah…”

“Hmph. Good. You have a cute face, so there's no need to hide.”

“H-Huh…!?”

Haruka was absolutely panicked. She’s so interesting. 

I felt compelled to tease her a little more.

“But if I'm being completely honest, I wish you'd stayed asleep a little longer.”

“E-Excuse me?...”

“It’s not the first time I have caught you sleeping, but today you were especially adorable, and I would have liked to have been able to look at you longer.”

“!? H-H… H-Hold on….”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

I knew what was flustering her, but decided to play innocent and ask anyway.

In spite of her confusion, she still answered honestly.

“No, I-It’s just that… hearing you say that I’m cute… It’s a bit… Please just stop making fun of me.”

“I didn't mean to make fun of you.”

I brushed the tip of her nose with my finger.

“I actually always found you to be cute.”

“Huh!?”

There's a new kind of noise again.

Her face certainly couldn’t get any redder and steam would probably start rising from her head if it could.

It was hilarious.

I broke out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, but it seemed like her little show was over.

How boring.

“Um…”

“What?”

When I asked, she hesitated a moment and then laid her head on my chest.

“I’m… happy.”

Hn…!!

It admittedly caught me somewhat by surprise.

I reached out and brushed her cheek, tightening up my expression so that she wouldn't realize how flustered I was, and I felt how tense she was.

“What is it?”

“Is it wrong for me to assume that you approaching me means you'd like me to touch you?”

“No… That’s not…”

“Hm. You're cute when you're like this, too.”

I took advantage of the opportunity to whisper in her ear, and she jerked.

“Ah, stop it already…”

“What can I say if it’s the truth? I’m a terrible liar, you know.”

“Guh… You’re… lying….”

“How rude. It saddens me to hear you doubt me like that.”

“I-I’m sorry….”

“Well then, you must admit it. Ah, right. You were even lovelier than usual last night.”

“Hn!!! Aaah, last night, that…”

Haruka, reminded of the night before, blushed profusely and tried to turn her back on me.

It would be a shame to miss out on seeing the look on her face, so I stopped her by holding her by the shoulder, and she looked like she was about to cry.

“L-Let go…”

“Is that an order?”

“No, it’s not…”

“Then I won’t.”

“But…”

“You've been jumpy for a while now. Don’t you feel comfortable when you're with me? It's a pity really, because I feel quite at ease with you.”

“D-Do you really…?”

“Hm?”

“For me… Whenever we spent time in the living room together, I found myself feeling very at home, so I do feel the same way.”

…She was being very earnest about this one, again.

I do remember how relaxing it was when Haruka would play the piano and I sat on the sofa to read books.

“Yeah, I enjoyed those moments too.”

“Now we… can enjoy our time together like that again in the future.”

“Mhm… I find it strange though that we're having this conversation at this point.”

Haruka beamed. 

Finally, she smiles.

“I was so smitten with you that it was difficult to focus on anything. That's why it was a problem.”

“Oh… I-I’m…”

She tried to cover her face again and I held on to her hands to stop her.

“I told you not to hide.”

“Uh… But…”

“You think you stand a chance against my capabilities? ….Oh. Your fingers are beautiful.”

It was not the first time I had held them, but I never looked at them so intimately.

Her fingers were much slimmer and softer than mine.

I never imagined that the day would come when these hands would touch me like this, but one never knows.

“Your hands are so small… and yet you can masterfully play the piano with them.”

“Y-Yeah… Somehow…”

“You’re small too.”

“And you’re pretty big.”

“I'm a little afraid I might break you. It'll be tricky since I now have to bend down every time I want to kiss you.

“Uh… R-Right. I guess that’s true…”

Haruka blushes again. 

I should get used to it by now.

“I-I'll just do my best to make myself taller so that I don't cause you too much trouble.”

“I’d… appreciate it.”

I reach out to touch her cherry-red cheeks and turn her to face me.

“Although… it wouldn't be a problem if we were lying down like this.”

Just as we were, I quietly brought my face closer to hers.

“Hyah!”

…Another interesting noise.

“...Now don’t take the blanket. It’s cold.”

Haruka snatched the comforter from me in an instant, covered herself completely with it, and did not come out.

I heard her muffled voice coming from under the cover.

“But… I’m embarrassed…. I can’t do it….”

“Hey.”

She wouldn’t budge no matter how I pulled on it.

…She leaves me no choice.

“....Please remove the blanket, Haruka-sama. Allow me to behold this flower's countenance.”

With a whisper, the entire comforter twitched.

I tried to tug on it, but she refused to come out.

“Do you intend to refuse to appear, like a goddess who hides behind a rock door? What should I do for you to show yourself to me? Shall I sing you a song?”

“...I do want to hear you sing. But… It won’t get me to come out…”

It was obvious she didn’t know how to respond. She really was so conscientious.

“...Do you hate this Camus so much that you don’t even want to look at him?”

The moment the words left my mouth, she removed the comforter.

“A-Absolutely not!”

“That's wonderful to hear.”

Smiling, I take the comforter. 

Hmph. I warned her she was no match for me.

“I wouldn't be able to live with the thought of you hating me.”

“U-Um… I wish you would stop talking that way…”

“And why would that be?”

“You sound very sweet, and although it makes me happy, at the same time, it makes my back tickle.”

“...Oh.”

I used the chance to bring my face closer to breathe out her name on her back when she freaked out and resisted.

“A-And I'm also afraid that I might forget w-who the real Camus senpai is…”

“You say such interesting things. I've said before, both sides are me.”

“B-But…”

“If you don't understand, this is who I am. It's more fun this way. If you are ever unsure, just ask your heart.”

I looked her in the eye and asked slowly.

“Now. Please tell me. Is the person you see right now your beloved Camus?”

“Yes…”

“Very good. By the way, I believe I have told you how to compel me to do your bidding, correct?”

As a matter of fact, I've been a little frustrated for a short while now.

“Ah…”

I glared at her lightly, and with that, Haruka finally seemed to understand what I was trying to get across.

“Um… Please go back to your usual self, Cryzard.”

“Hm. Understood.”

I nodded and she immediately looked relieved. Interesting indeed.

“Well, then, now you'll do as I say.”

I place my hands on her waist and pull her close so that she won't cover herself with the comforter any more.

I looked into her eyes and asked gently.

“...Is this right?”

“Y-Yeah!? B-But…”

“It's a little chilly, so I'd appreciate it if you could hand me the coat over there.”

“Huh…? A-Ah, okay… You’re talking about the hanten over there, right?”

“Yes? What did you expect?”

There she goes with those expressions again.

Amused, I brought a hand to her chin and turned her to face me for a better view.

“Of course, you don't mind if it doesn't meet your expectations, do you?”

“I-I…”

“So what shall you do, Haruka?”

I slowly called her name and traced her cheek with my fingertip.

She seemed flustered, but eventually her eyes fluttered closed and she nodded her head.

...What a good girl.

I began to laugh-

And the comforter was pulled from behind me with a yank.

“...Who’s there?”

“Arf!”

I shifted my gaze and before I realized, I was looking at my dog, who was standing nearby.

“...It’s you, Alexander.”

He places a tennis ball he'd gotten from who knows where at his feet, wagging his tail happily.

“You want to play….? I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Bark!!”

“...”

Alexander, not wanting any complaints, pulled on the futon even more.

“You… were so thoughtful last night.”

I glare at him and he innocently turns his head.

When I turned away to ignore him, I was met with Haruka's worried gaze.

“Um… You should go.”

“No, but…”

Alexander continued his best to tug at the futon.

I felt puzzled, and Haruka smiled.

“I'm not going anywhere. We'll be together forever, won't we? Hm? Please go ahead and play with him, Cryszard.”

…Guh.

Now that she’s mentioned my name, I had no excuse but to obey.

“Understood. I’ll go.”

I gave a wry smile and nodded, Haruka smiled happily.

“Good. And Cryzard, after you finish playing with Alexander, have breakfast with me.”

“It would be a good time to do it. That would be fine with me.”

“Great. The food is known to be very delicious here, so I'm looking forward to it.”

“What? We stayed here a few days ago.”

“That’s the thing… I was worried about a lot of things then and…. Let’s just say I didn’t get to see what the food tasted like.”

I see. 

We were in a bit of a predicament at the time.

“And also… Can I ask for one more thing? I’d like to walk around the inn and go back to the open-air bath one more time… Cryzard.”

“Hm… That will be easy.”

I was aware of how my gaze softened as I looked at her.

We have not only today, but the rest of our lives together, so I can fulfill that little wish any number of times. It will be granted.

“But that now makes four wishes... you may appear humble, but are really quite a selfish master.”

“I-I would never mean to… If you don’t want to, then don’t…”

“Don't get so easily shaken up by every little thing. If I'm to obey you, then be proud.”

Having been watching us, Alexander barked as if he’d finally lost his patience.

“Fine, I heard you. Let’s go play, Alexander. But first, bring me my clothes.”

“Arf!!”

After watching Alexander frolic away, Haruka and I looked at each other.

“Ah, that’s right. ….Cryzard.”

“Yes?”

“Good morning. I just realized I hadn’t said it to you yet.”

I watched as my beloved quickly bowed her head and I smiled once more.

“Of course. Good morning.”

[sweeterthanlove]

camus all star translations

*all choice answers and rank endings included prologue ❄ chapter one memorial one memorial two ❄ chapter two memorial three memorial four ❄ chapter three - friend end memorial five memorial six friend end memorial

i wanted to get through remastering as many of my all star translations as i could by camus' birthday. you'll find the prologue/chapters 1-3/memorials 1-6/the friend end and its memorial on my new wordpress.

i hope whoever comes across this enjoys!

also! i would like to take a moment to appreciate my old seapals from shining wonderland, who i've learned a lot from, over the past few years. my time with sw helped me grow as a translator and writer, picking up skills that i've been able to use in remastering my works.

i never would have even thought of picking up translating a whole game route if it weren't for sw. for that, despite everything, i'm forever grateful. thank you for taking the chance on me.

[maybepotassiumwillbeouralways]

Happy Birthday Ai ❤️

[fictional-birthdays]

Happy Birthday, Camus! (Uta no Prince-sama)

[girlintodust]

New intro post! You can find the old one here ♡

Welcome to my little special corner of the world, where I post pretty moodboards and reblog things I like (mainly involving pink and cute things) already 3 months with an active account and this girlblog is one of the few things that keep me sane, love you all.

✩ previously @anaghostprincessblog !

✩ asks are always open ♡

✩ tysm for 1.7k !!

my posts are under #nini boards ♡ and #nini talks ♡

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒜𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑒 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

˖࣪ ໒꒱ 20 year old teenage girl, aries, bisexual, infp

˖࣪ ໒꒱ my birthday is April 2nd

˖࣪ ໒꒱ i'm a university student majoring in philosophy

˖࣪ ໒꒱ my first language is spanish, but i'm fluent in english and italian

˖࣪ ໒꒱ IMPORTANT: this blog is destined to all things i love which is a mixture of a couple different aesthetics. however, i migth use this account to vent sometimes: i suffer from an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. while i DO NOT encourage eating disorders by ANY means (this is NOT a pr0 an@ acc) i might talk about it or reblog things related, so please be advised. my dm's are always open to anyone who wants to talk, but i will not be giving advice or stats. i might also reblog or post +18 content.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝓂𝓎 ���𝒶𝓋𝑜𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

˖࣪ ໒꒱ books: the secret history (henry winter apologist), the solitude of prime numbers, to the light house and mrs dalloway by virginia woolf, anne frank's diary, kafka's metamorphosis, the stranger by albert camus, jane eyre, wuthering heights, madame bovary, the bell jar, simone de beauvoir's memoirs of a dutiful daughter, alejandra pizarnik's diaries, prozac nation.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ movies/shows: crimson peak, pride and prejudice (2005), the grand budapest hotel, leon the professional, chungking express, all about lily chou-chou, howl's moving castle, the wind rises, marie antoinette, girl interrupted, edward scissor hands, alice in wonderland, gilmore girls, criminal minds, modern family, fleabag.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ music: lana del rey, fiona apple, david bowie, ichiko aoba, her's, the smiths, plums, mazzy star, the cranberries, elliot smith, beach fossils, radiohead, the cure, kate bush, slowdive.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ people: matthew gray gubler, nana komatsu, sylvia plath, jane birkin, hope sandoval, tim burton, humphrey bogart, audrey hepburn, gregory peck, keira knigthley, margaret qualley, kristine froseth, kirsten dunst, sofia coppola, anya taylor joy, elle fanning, pheobe tonkin, fiona apple, aaron hotchner, spencer reid, theo james, kate moss, franz kafka, vladimir nabokov, albert camus, tanya dziahileva.

[tim-shii]

a/n: save me, preppy!bf danheng. save me, please, preppy!bf danheng. im so normal about him its not funny anymore. i need him. i badly need him in my life rn its actually criminal how hes not beside me reading our silly little books together. also consider this my little belated valentines gift <3

bf!danheng who smells of old books, coffee and vanilla flowers.

bf!danheng who writes you little handwritten notes and slips them into the pockets of your coat or jacket.

bf!danheng whose favorite authors are edgar allan poe, albert camus and fyodor dostoevsky.

bf!danheng who’s such a gentle lover, every word of praise that comes from his lips is nothing but sincere and sickeningly enamored.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.”

bf!danheng who’s an honor student and tutors you at the library after class hours.

bf!danheng who lets you borrow his sweaters and crewnecks, sometimes even letting you keep them with the reason being ‘they look better on you’.

bf!danheng who casually hands you an annotated book out of nowhere.

“i finished the book. you were talking about it a week ago.”

bf!danheng who recites to you the most romantic poems as you both lay on the grass, under the starry night.

“she walks in beauty, like the night

of cloudless climes and starry skies;

and all that’s best of dark and bright

meet in her aspect and her eyes;

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

bf!danheng who reads his book beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders and head leaning to yours.

bf!danheng who always remembers little details about you, whether you mentioned it in passing or he overheard you telling it to your friends.

bf!danheng who notices everything about you.

“you fiddle with your ring when you’re bored.”

bf!danheng who falls in love with you more and more when you randomly blurt out a quote in the hushed nights you two spend together.

“it is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”

“that’s shakespeare. you’ve always loved that quote.” he looks over at you, a fond expression gracing his pretty face.

bf!danheng who greets you with a kiss to your temple everytime without fail.

bf!danheng whose heart jumps a little bit faster when you push his glasses up his nose with a pointed finger and your nose scrunched up cutely at him.

bf!danheng who kisses you passionately and slow, taking his time ‘cause he feels like it’s only a matter of time before something inevitably pull you away cruelly from his hold.

bf!danheng who blinks slowly, blush rushing to his ears, when you smile at him and promise him you’ll be with him for evermore.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[aoxizu]

i have another 2.1 character dynamic post in the recesses of my brain but i need to get this out first

star rail's 2.1 update main plotline leans a lot more into existentialism and absurdism than i thought it would which is a really nice surprise

like i thought before 2.0 that at most it was just going to be some "oh no capitalism bad ipc bad cults also bad" thing but honestly what we got is so much more interesting. the spoilers start now

also massive disclaimer i am not a philosophist and actually i really don't like philosophy because it makes my brain hurt and i would much rather just look at logical nice things like math and plants so. if i get anything wrong please correct me

acheron's past and how she became an emanator of nihility reminds me somewhat of the absurdist theme of how people always look for meaning when there isn't any, until they finally realize that the universe is meaningless

and the entire path of nihility basically is a road towards that realization that people tread on, and the difference between the real world and star rail is that in the real world here we have people who will see that and then go write a book about a guy not crying at his mother's funeral, whereas in star rail it seems that just accepting that the universe is meaningless turns you into a pathstrider or even emanator of the nihility (not sure if i remember the details, correct me if i'm wrong)

and then aventurine's whole motivation is trying to understand why the universe is so cruel to him, and to find meaning when you have everything except freedom, both of which are absurdist themes

the leap of faith argument often attributed to søren kierkegaard claims that even though there is no rational logic for believing in god, you should do it anyway because the alternatives are madness, suicide, and ignorance. this was one solution to the problem of confronting the universe's meaninglessness: choosing to believe in a higher being regardless

later world wars i and ii both contributed heavily to the rise of absurdism as people returned from the war, having seen so many others die around them, and then just going back to a normal society with none of what they as individual soldiers had contributed seemingly doing anything. and then it happened again, but on a much greater scale with even more deaths. both wars and the destruction they brought led many people to start questioning why a supposedly moral god could allow this suffering, and this is where camus comes in and says that actually religion and nationalism both aren't good solutions, and instead we should just accept meaninglessness and keep living despite the absurdity

and i think dr ratio's scroll thing kind of relates to that

he tells aventurine to open it when he's about to die, or when he's completely out of answers for the question of how to confront absurdity

and dr ratio's answer for aventurine is to just tell him to keep living, good luck

which is. yeah

it's the argument that there are more answers to nihilism than just 1) going insane, 2) pretending like it doesn't exist, and 3) dying

it's the bold claim that despite everything, you can still choose to live

sure nothing makes sense but that does not detract from your life. it doesn't need to make sense at all

and with the understanding that things do not need to fit our human definition of meaning, we can continue on knowing our true place in the universe

and with that aventurine walks into the very big black hole like look at that thing you cannot tell me there is no symbolism there

let's go back to acheron.

in the part where you get a snippet of acheron's conversation with some guy just before this cutscene, the other party states that "[IX] leave[s] woven strands of fate for humans to walk, and together THEY weave a great shadow...And this shadow silently envelops them."

which to me sounds like a statement on how people across time and space have again and again come to the same question, what is the meaning of life?

and acheron's whole color thing seems to mean that she is one of the few who, after walking so far on the path of nihility, somehow have not died yet, be it from madness or something else

like it seems implied that many many more have seen the meaninglessness of the universe and have not reacted as well as acheron has

ok i have more to say about the elation and how it in turn relates to the nihility but that will have to come later but there is. a lot of interesting things there to explore

once again disclaimer: I Am Not A Philosophist And Do Not Know What The Correct Definitions Of These Words I'm Throwing Around Are. thank you for coming to my ted talk that was more of a longwinded ramble

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

María Casares (Ladies of the Park, Orpheus, Children of Paradise)—Spanish-born French actress María Casares was a distinguished star of French stage and screen, appearing in notable films like Marcel Carné's Children of Paradise, Robert Bresson's Les dames du Bois de Boulogne, and (my favorite) Jean Cocteau's Orpheus as the unforgettable enigmatic Princess/[spoiler]. She's one of those people who just kept getting more beautiful as she aged because the depth and richness of her personality and the interesting life she lead shows in her expressions. She had a long and stormy affair with Albert Camus and they wrote each other a lot of passionate and poetic letters that you can look up if you're into that sort of thing.

Lotus Long (Tokyo Rose, Last of the Pagans, Think Fast Mr Moto)— Look at those doe-like eyes! Her abundant hair! Her perfect Cupid's bow!

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut—spoiler for Jean Cocteau's Orpheus included, if you don't want to be spoiled don't click this]

María Casares:

In Orphée she's death and he falls in love with her. She also dated Camus and they'd write things like "My thoughts are the color of your hair. Monday and a few days thereafter, they will be the color of your eyes."

[mmxxviii]

tula and her journey

(as a note, this is incredibly long so i've put the vast majority of it under a read more. please open it all the way if you want to see the whole thing)

@/atticfish // The Oresteia, Aeschylus // C.S. Lewis // Clearest Blue, CHVRCHES // Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) // I See Boats Moving, Fernando Pessoa // Deep End, Holly Humberstone // The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, Rainer Maria Rilke // Tired, beabadoobee // Sarah Kay // Half-light: Collected Poems 1965-2016, Frank Bidart // (could not find) // Zinaida Gippius // Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides, Anne Carson // Don’t Swallow the Cap, The National // When Did It Happen?, Mary Oliver // Holy Wild, Gwen Benaway // Manhattan is a Lenape Word, Natalie Diaz // Dead Stars, Ada Limón // The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell (1988) // How to Cure a Ghost, Fariha Róisín // @/CrowsFault (twitter) // Spring, Mary Oliver // @/jb-blunk // (could not find) // @/roach-works // Tales From Earthsea: Dragonfly, Ursula Le Guin  // Some are Always Hungry, Jihyun Yun // All About Love: New Visions, bell hooks // Notebooks 1951-1959, Albert Camus // @/podencos // The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath // Waiting, Marya Hornbacher // The Summer Day, Mary Oliver // Burrow’s End (2023)

and, as a bonus if you made it this far:

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist

Parents

The session notes get longer and longer, so I decide to go over all of them again to decide on today’s topic of conversation.

Intake

Insomnia

Nightmares

Emotions

The client is on time (well, 35 minutes early, but my receptionist tells me he brought a book; she is certain it is “Le Mythe de Sisyphe” by Camus, and he reads it in French). When he comes into my office, he wears a black… robe? despite it being 25 degrees Celsius. Surprisingly, he takes it off though and hangs it on my coatrack. There is still no smalltalk, although he asks, very politely, if I could open the blinds a bit more since today, the room is too dark for his liking.

DT: I’d like to talk about your family today. How do you relate to them? (I notice immediate signs of stress and he looks at my paperweight) Take it, it’s fine.

Dream (He takes the paperweight and begins to fiddle with it, turning it over and over and over again): My family is like… a cosmic jigsaw. We should fit together perfectly, and I reckon we do. In theory. From a distance. To all you mortals. But you should never, ever look too closely.

DT: And why is that? What about your parents?

Dream (Silence ensues. It lasts for 9 minutes. I contemplate several times whether to cut it short but decide to let him sit with his thoughts until he is ready): They like to play a game of charade, I suppose. If we communicate at all, it is in cryptic symbols and metaphors….

DT: You like communicating like that, too, don’t you?

Dream (I notice a glare, quickly followed by a violent shake of his head): My father once gave me an hourglass with a note that read, “Your move.” I still have no idea what he was trying to tell me.

DT: Did you ever ask?

Dream (I notice the familiar eye-roll): No.

DT: Why not?

Dream: You would not understand.

DT: Try me.

(Another bout of silence ensues. This time, it lasts 10 minutes, and I decide to finally intervene—he’s not getting a lot of bang for his buck this way. I notice a moment too late I shouldn’t use the word ‘bang’ when relating to my clients, not even in my mind).

Maybe just explain to me what your parents are like.

Dream (I notice a slightly annoyed exhale through his nose): My father has a particular (he frantically turns the paperweight in his hands) …watch that is a source of contention, and he insists on synchronised cosmic events. Well, not really synchronised as you would define it I suppose but… (he shakes his head again). No matter. My mother has a thing for unravelling galaxies and the ensuing chaos. They are not a great match by any means.

DT: Doesn’t sound like it. Are they still together?

Dream: No. They have not been for a very long time.

DT (Divorced parents. It makes sense): And how did that influence your upbringing?

Dream (He laughs. It sounds… I have no clue what to think and try not to show it on my face. He truly sounds like someone who has forgotten how to laugh. I actually feel sorry for him. I remind myself not to show that on my face either): My father is Time, my mother is Night. Do you expect me to relate to them as my role models?

DT: (I notice bitterness that most certainly covers up some hurt and wonder if he tries to be metaphorical, or if he is diving down into the depths of his delusion again): Do you? Or did you at any point?

Dream (He leans back in his chair and spins the paperweight on his index finger. It keeps on spinning. I’m confused): How could I possibly relate to someone who prunes roses before they are fully in bloom and never even smells them? Or someone who permanently entertains herself with moonlight cocktails and star-shaped canapés? My parents are… unrelatable and exhausting.

DT: And is exhaustion all they make you feel?

Dream (The paperweight stops spinning, and the silence lasts for 6 minutes this time): No, they make me feel conflicted. (He didn’t say he doesn’t feel. Good.) My father… might have taught me something about duty and the weight of eternity. But I suppose I might have preferred warmth (he starts fidgeting with the paperweight again and briefly looks at me) over cosmic-level indifference.

DT (I am surprised at the sudden willingness to share his emotional landscape. I still don’t show it on my face. I hope): And your mother?

Dream (I notice a hard swallow before he gazes out the window. His voice is very quiet): My mother paints the skies with stars. But those… nights are lonely. She revels in the beauty of darkness and starlight but never touches the hearts of her children. She never dreams of us (His voice turns quieter still). Or of me.

DT: You don’t know that.

Dream (He looks at me again): Trust me, I do. Perhaps you should remember who and what I am?

DT (I decide to tread carefully): Yes, you told me you are the embodiment of imagination, dreams and nightmares.

Dream: Correct. And I know she doesn’t dream of me.

DT (That delusion is stubborn. As they are): If your parents never gave you what you needed, did you ever try to seek comfort or solace elsewhere?

Dream (I notice he holds on to the paperweight so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Even whiter than they are): For as long as I remember I longed for nothing more than just a fleeting touch transcending cosmic duty. (He looks at me through his lashes before he focuses on the paperweight again) Make of that what you will.

DT (I wonder what’s gotten into him today. The sudden openness is confusing. Not that I’m complaining): I don’t make anything out of anything. Let’s stay with those desires. (I notice he flinches) What do you truly want?

Dream: I… feel adrift. (He seems to think for a moment): Sometimes I envy you humans (Okay, I can work with the delusion). Your families argue about burnt toast and forgotten anniversaries. My family argues about the curvature of spacetime and the existential implications of your socks disappearing in your laundry. You have no idea how these things affect… (He stops himself) Never mind. You have simpler families—Sunday dinners, awkward Thanksgiving conversations, and no cosmic-level crisis before dessert.

DT (I decide to play): I think you might underestimate the crisis potential of our dinners.

Dream: Do I? (He actually smiles.)

DT: Yes. But let’s stop changing the subject (I notice he looks slightly embarrassed, which is surprising) and get back to your wants. If you had to choose one thing you really wanted right now, what would that be?

Dream (His voice is very quiet again): To escape the endless cycle. But my duty binds me.

DT (That took the wrong direction and definitely requires reframing. Change of tack): It seems to me that you think of yourself as a silent observer at times. Or as being responsible for other people and their dreams. At least that’s what I’m gathering, correct me if I’m wrong. (He just looks at me but doesn’t say anything) What if you dared to dream yourself?

Dream (I notice the deep frown on his face before he puts the paperweight back on my desk): It is not possible to dream beyond one’s destiny. And mine is not to dream.

DT: What if that weren’t true?

Dream (Silence again. Quite brief this time): That seems… like a tome bound in too many shadows.

DT: Did you ever notice you relate to yourself as if you were (I’m fishing for the right words here) a book, written by someone else?

Dream (I notice he shuffles uncomfortably in his seat): That would be assuming I had a story of my own, which I do not.

DT: And why would you believe that?

Dream (I notice he taps his foot. Six times): I trust our time is up?

DT: No, although we’re getting closer.

Dream: Good, I shall leave then. (He makes a move to get up)

DT: I’ve got homework for you.

Dream (I notice the eye-roll, but he actually stays seated): The infernal diary again?

DT: No. I’d just like you to reflect on a thought.

Dream (I notice the raised eyebrow): And what thought would that be?

DT: If it is truly paradoxical to allow yourself to dream while thinking you are responsible for other people’s dreams.

Dream: The former seems… highly improbable.

DT: Are you going to think about it though?

Dream (He gets up and looks around the room for a moment before his eyes finally connect with mine again): I shall, despite the very apparent futility of your… experiment.

DT: I don’t experiment with people’s thoughts or feelings. I just encourage them to step back and have a closer look at them.

Dream: I shall try to… forgive me: I will trust your expertise on the matter.

DT (I notice he actually has internalised our last session. At least to a degree): The delusional one?

Dream (I notice he really wants to suppress a smile, but it’s not working): No, the real one.

DT: Same time next week then?

Dream: Yes. And you may still use ink in your diary. For however long you deem necessary…

< Previous Session

Next Session >

[shiningwonderland]

Camus (All Star)

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

Friend End — A Unison That Hates To Lose

A few days later. The day of the Christmas Live had finally arrived. 

There was nothing I could do at this point. I just have to trust in my senpais and watch over them. 

I'm very aware that my future depends on the outcome of this concert, but for today, I will forget about it and just enjoy everyone's performance.

Before the start of the concert, I stopped by the bustling dressing room.

Reiji: Oh? Did you come to support your big bros, Kouhai-chan? That makes me so happy. Rei-chan is going to give everything into it today!

Ai: You’re supposed to give it your everything. It’s literally your job.

There was nothing different about the way they were speaking to each other, but there was a different kind of tension in the air.

It was an electric mood unique to live shows.

The four of them were the opening act, so I shouldn’t bother them too much.

Getting to open the show is a great honor, but it also comes with a lot of responsibility.

I was about to leave the dressing room when Camus, who had remained quiet up to that point, approached me.

Camus: …Wait. Where will you be watching the stage from?

Haruka: I was thinking of watching from the wings.

Camus: Don't go there, get to the auditorium. There are reserved seats for those involved with the event.

Haruka: Will that be alright?

Camus: I don’t care. I’m the one telling you to go sit in those seats. So go.

Haruka: But…

Why… Then suddenly…

I really didn't know if I could go sit in the auditorium.

Camus was acting like the answer was so obviously that I could, but I’m someone who works behind the scenes…

Haruka: Um, I’m honestly scared to put myself in the audience…

Ranmaru: Hey. What are you guys fussing about right before the show?

As I stood there conflicted, I heard a voice addressing us and when I turned, I found Kurosaki-senpai looking in our direction from a little distance away.

Kurosaki: You look like you’re about to give in, woman.  ….Go on, go sit in those seats.

Haruka: But….

Ranmaru: Just go. You’ll understand why if you just think about it for a second. I can't imagine this idiot wanting someone to hear him sing…

Camus: Don’t interrupt me, Kurosaki.

Ranmaru: Huh? It’s not just your show. Don’t make things personal if you don’t like me butting in.

Camus: Shut up, you disgraced scion. You have no reason to help me.

The two of them glare at each other.

This is bad, if this keeps going, they’ll start fighting again.

Haruka: E-Excuse me. Please don’t fight before this very important show…

Ai: Again? I don’t know how they don’t get tired of this. Why don't you leave those two idiots alone?

Reiji: Can't we just say that they're really excited about it? Come on now, Kouhai-chan, go to the auditorium.

Haruka: A-Alright.

I looked back over my shoulder as Kotobuki-senpai pushed me along.

Camus-senpai and Kurosaki-senpai were still glaring at each other.

I very reluctantly drag my feet out of the dressing room.

The audience filled the venue with murmurs and a distinct excitement. 

Thinking about it, this would be the first time I would ever get to watch the performance of a song I’d written from the crowd. 

My heart began to race as soon as I realized. 

I will only be able to hear this song at today’s live concert. 

And I wouldn’t have been able to see it in its entirety if I'd stayed in the wings.

Haruka: … I wonder if Camus-senpai stepped in for my sake.

I thought back to how the four of them looked earlier.

At a glance, they appeared the same as they always have. But their chemistry was different.

Camus-senpai's demeanor especially seems much softer than it was when the unit first formed.

Despite his apparent indifference, he's been sharing his opinions and feelings with the other three. 

He reminded me of ice when we first met.

But I have no doubt that having friends, even if they constantly fought, was a good influence on Camus-senpai.

Haruka: The show is about to start…. I wonder if they’re on stand-by.

Camus-senpai and Kurosaki-senpai are probably still fighting....

I smiled a little at the memory.

Camus-senpai looks to enjoy himself a little when he argues with Kurosaki-senpai. 

Kotobuki-senpai and Mikaze-senpai, even though they look dumbfounded, were actually paying very close attention to the two of them. ......

I was witness to their world-class singing and performance many times during the process of creating the unit song. 

And their dedication to their work. 

When these four come together, they produce wonderful music.

I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to work with them.

Reiji: Ladies and gentlemen! And fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, welcome!!

The senpai stepped out onto the stage, illuminated by the dazzling spotlight, and the crowd went wild.

Ai: We’re QUARTET NIGHT! It is a great pleasure to be able to spend Christmas with you all!

Ranmaru: It may be the middle of winter, but who says it has to be cold? Let’s turn up the heat in here!

Camus: Now, ladies. Allow us to take you to a dream world unlike any you have ever seen on this holy day.

The concert commenced with a thunderous cheer echoing throughout the venue.

Kotobuki-senpai's enchanting voice instantly captured the hearts of the audience. Mikaze-senpai's angelic vocals thrilled the crowd even further, Kurosaki-senpai's singing drew cheers. 

And Camus-senpai set the place ablaze.

The four on stage were at times passionate, at times sweet, and at times blindingly radiant.

I could particularly hear the same, no, even more passion in Camus-senpai's delivery than when we had previously met together.

I was at the mercy of his singing, his dancing, and his overflowing charisma.

I had forgotten all about the heartache I had felt before and simply listened to his voice.

I visited the dressing rooms after the concert. 

The tension in the air was gone, and only the afterglow of the concert lingered.

I was still filled with excitement, but everyone else seemed to be completely normal.

Haruka: You all were amazing out there! It was a seriously wonderful performance!!

Camus: Hmph. Of course it would be.

Ranmaru: Wouldn’t be a concert if we didn’t tear it up like this.

The response I got was the same as usual. I happily rushed to Camus-senpai.

Haruka: Camus-senpai, t-thank you very much. Everyone’s singing sounded much more powerful listening to it from the front.

I realize now this is probably why you told me to watch from the audience!

Camus: Hn… Well, if that’s what you believe, then so be it.

Haruka: Yes! I was very impressed!

The moment I answered loudly, the lights were suddenly cut in the dressing room.

Haruka: ….Huh?

The lights were back on as soon as I glanced up at the ceiling. 

Was there a grid failure…?

But then, the lights began to turn off, and on, and off, and on….

???: Fufufu very fufufu impressed….

Haruka: That voice…

Everybody in the room braced themselves for what was coming next.

The light in the room went completely out after a couple more times, and who I believed to be Kotobuki-senpai standing near me, spun in the dark.

Saotome: Yes! I was also very impressed!

Haruka: P-President!?

I looked into the sudden bright light and watched how it had transformed into the president's figure.

Saotome: The song, that performance, I knew I wasn’t crazy to have put the four of you together!

Ranmaru: H-Hey, old man. What happened to Reiji…?

Saotome: Hahaha!! We actually swapped places at the end of the gig!

The real Mr. Kotobuki is right there!

The president gestured to the cleaning supply closet in the corner of the room, and the door slammed open, revealing a smiling Kotobuki-senpai from inside, waving his hand. 

I… didn’t even notice.

The president then spun around and pointed his finger at me.

Saotome: Miss Nanami! And choosing YOU as the composer was precisely the best choice! I’m a genius!

Haruka: T-Thank you! Then…

Saotome: Yes, YOU have successfully leaped over the first hurdle!

Haruka: Really?

Thank goodness….

I staggered on my feet the second I felt relieved, no longer keeping myself so tense.

Camus-senpai, who’d been standing next to me, caught me by the collar. 

Haruka: Hyah!

Camus: Don’t go tripping on air. You're a real handful, you know that?

Haruka: I-I’m sorry.

Saotome: Hahahaha! I’m glad to see you and Mr. Camus getting along very well! Then, I’ll catch you on the flip side!

The president stomped on the floor and left, launching himself through the ceiling. 

Camus-senpai silently stared up at the hole in the ceiling and then quietly set me down.

Camus: What are you going to do if you're not focused on the Song Festival still ahead?

He helps me to stand while subtly shielding me from the falling debris from the ceiling.

Camus: In any case… I look forward to it.

Haruka: O-Of course! Thank you so much!

Ranmaru: Don't get ahead of yourself. This time it was our singing that got her this far.

It’ll only be you singing her song at the Song Festival. Unless she writes a banger, there’s no way you’re winning.

Camus: You bastard.

Ai: The three of us will be up against you during the Song Festival. We’re not going to be holding back.

Reiji: There, there, everyone! Let’s at least enjoy the success of the concert today! Let’s go to the after-party, shall we?

Camus: I wasn’t aware. You can blast off to this party by yourself.

Reiji: Eh…. I’m no firework! But I guess Myu-chan can’t hang around. How about you, Ai-Ai?

Ai: I will not be going. There’s no reason for me to. I don’t drink either.

Reiji: Aw, you too? Alright, fine, Ran-ran! Let’s get some BBQ! My treat.

Ranmaru: I’ll pass. I’m burnt out. I just wanna go to sleep.

Reiji: Ranmaru passing on meat!?

Cool… I get it. Nothing I can do if you’re tired. We can reschedule this party for another time. 

The other senpai began getting ready to leave, ignoring Kotobuki-senpai, who slumped his shoulders and accepted the situation alone.

Mikaze-senpai, who was about to head for the exit, looked back in our direction for a moment.

Ai: ….See you. I’ll be heading out now. Good work today. Thank you for the great song.

Haruka: Ah… O-Of course! Thank you!

Ranmaru: …I’ll also get going.  Woman, your song was rockin’. Later.

Following Mikaze-senpai, Kurosaki-senpai also headed for the door.

Camus: ….Hn. Kurosaki, wait.

I watched as Camus-senpai seemed to think of something, and started to rise on his feet. 

But Kurosaki-senpai didn't appear to notice and walked out.

Camus: Grr… We should go back too.

Haruka: S-Sounds good.

Reiji: Ehhhhh. Hold on here, is everyone seriously leaving?

Haruka: I’m sorry. We’ll be heading out. I can’t thank you enough for today.

Reiji: You took the words right out of my mouth, Kouhai-chan! Your song was amazing! Goodnight!

I bowed to Kotobuki-senpai, who waved me off, and I followed Camus-senpai outside.

When we reached the promenade, we spotted Kurosaki-senpai a little ahead of us.

Camus: Hey, Kurosaki, wait. …You forgot something.

Kurosaki-senpai turned around with a raised brow when Camus-senpai called out to him.

Ranmaru: Ah? What do you two want?

Camus-senpai walked up to Kurosaki-senpai, opened his bag, and pushed something into Kurosaki-senpai's hand.

Haruka: That’s…

It was the teddy bear that used to sit in my Senpai's bedroom.

Ranmaru: Wha- You…!?

Haruka: It’s… the bear.

Kurosaki-senpai stared back at Camus-senpai in disbelief, his eyes wide.

Ranmaru: Camus. You… What are you trying to do?

Despite the furrowed brows, Camus-senpai’s attitude remained the same, and he huffed in the same way he always did.

Camus: Why the surprise? You were fascinated by this bear when you last came to visit. I’m giving it to you. Rejoice. 

Kurosaki-senpai gazed at the plush bear for a moment, as if drawn to it.

Ranmaru: Hn…. S… Screw that! I don't want this old kids toy!

He quickly comes to his senses and shuts him down.

Ranmaru: I mean, I wouldn’t want it. 

Kurosaki-senpai grumbled and pushed the teddy bear back. 

Camus-senpai humphed and pushed it toward him again.

Camus: Don't be shy. It suits you. Now carry it and go home.

Ranmaru: I told you I. Don’t. Want. It. Take it back with you!

Camus: You. Can. Take. It! You stubborn bastard…

The two pushed against each other with all their might.

Haruka: U-Um…?

The poor bear’s face was getting more and more squished between the two of them. 

Two completely adult men were pushing a cute bear against each other.

I probably shouldn't say this, but the scene was, how to put it, very surreal....

Ranmaru: What's with you! Why are you trying to give it to me?!

Kurosaki-senpai swatted away the hand holding the teddy bear, and silence befell the area.

Camus: ….

Ranmaru: ….

Now what did that mean?

I, who had been out of loop for a while, could do nothing but blink my eyes.

After a few more moments of glaring at each other, Camus-senpai laughed.

Camus: What kind of man do you take me for? All it took was a quick search to find out whose family it originally belonged to and the circumstances under which it was put up for sale.

Ranmaru: Guh….

Camus-senpai roughly shoved the teddy bear back into Kurosaki-senpai’s hand, flinching for a second. 

Once the bear was completely in Kurosaki-senpai’s hold, Camus-senpai made the most sour face I've ever seen.

Camus: I owe you one. ….But instead of thanking you. Take it.

Ranmaru: Huh? Thanks for what?

Camus: …You told me my singing held no passion. I laughed at such a stupid remark, but it didn’t make it any less true.

What I’m trying to say is… I have never poured my heart in a song before, but this wasn’t so bad.

So if you get it now, take it.

Kurosaki-senpai had been gawking at Camus-senpai for a moment before the corner of his lips curled into a small smile.

Ranmaru: Heh. I hate the idea of you thanking me, but if you insist, I'll keep it.

Camus: I said “Instead of”. I’m not thanking you for anything.

Ranmaru: Tsk. …What a pain in the ass.

Kurosaki-senpai chuckled again and lifted up the teddy bear.

He patted its cute head and smiled into its beady eyes.

Ranmaru: Well, you're coming home with me, Kumako.

It’s… been a while, and you're really dirty.

Wow… the way he speaks to it…

Haruka: Could it be that this teddy bear… originally belonged to Kurosaki-senpai?

The question slipped out, and Kurosaki-senpai jerked before tensing. 

Camus: Hmph. Why are you using something so archaic like “Kumako” instead of “Ku-chan”?

Ranmaru: How much longer are you going to stick your nose into this!

One word from Camus-senpai changes Kurosaki-senpai’s demeanor completely.

Camus-senpai maintained his typical confident attitude, chuckling with a grin, in front of Kurosaki-senpai, who was almost screaming at this point.

Camus: Don’t you worry. No further than knowing you can't sleep at night without that bear.

Ranmaru: ….

Kurosaki-senpai stared back in annoyance, but….

Eventually, the corners of his own mouth turned up into a grin, as if he’d just thought of something.

Ranmaru: Come to think of it, that thing about you two being together… You guys were lying.

Haruka: Ah…

I looked at Camus-senpai in shock, but Kurosaki-senpai continued on without caring about our reaction.

Ranmaru: That may have been a lie, but your feelings weren’t fake.

Huh…?

What is Kurosaki-senpai saying…

Ranmaru: …I mean, I did tell you to “find some passion”. It's in bad taste to get all hot and bothered over a woman, don't you think?

Camus: Guh… What are you….

Now it was Camus-senpai’s turn to gawk. Kurosaki-senpai looked absolutely cool, a complete 180 to what he’d previously just been. 

Ranmaru: Don't play dumb with me, Earl. I’d actually like to get an “apology” rather than a “thank you”.

Don’t you realize? You took out your problem on me. It’s hilarious to think of a mighty aristocrat being jealous. 

Haruka: Um… Kurosaki-senpai? I’ve been trying to understand what you’re saying for a while…

What is he going on about?

Whatever it was, Camus-senpai was clearly upset.

Camus: I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…

Ranmaru: I heard you called Ai’s place at the end of November. You pushed him to tell you how to quickly heal burns.

That got him to cut Kurosaki-senpai off, panicking.

Camus: H-Hpmh. There’s nothing weird about that. Mikaze collects all kinds of data. I just knew he’d be the best person to ask.

Ranmaru: That’s not what I think.  I’m just saying, what’s got a self-aggrandizing noble like you acting like you’ve seen a ghost?

Kurosaki-senpai glanced over at me.

Haruka: U-Um…?

Then just as quickly, he turned his gaze back on Camus-senpai and grinned again.

Ranmaru: For who on this green earth did the arrogant earl get so shaken up about...?

Camus: …You know very well the consequences that await you if you don't shut your vile mouth right now.

Ranmaru: What's going to happen? If you have a bone to pick, then come at me.

Kurosaki-senpai provokes Camus-senpai by beckoning him closer.

Camus: All the better. I was just thinking of teaching you a lesson about the idiocy of challenging a nobleman for once.

Ranmaru: Heh. This is gonna be fun. I'll send you packing.

Haruka: Y-You guys…

I was at a loss, it really looked like they were about to start fighting each other.

But…

Camus: It’s funny to hear you say that.  Don't be sorry for what you said!

Camus-senpai picked up a branch that had fallen on the side of the road, and held it up like a fencing sword.

He looked to be brimming with energy.

I guess… this is something that he just needs to do.

Of course, it was hard for me to understand Camus-senpai, and at times he even seemed cold, but…

I could also tell that having someone to quarrel with like Kurosaki-senpai, together with music, was gradually thawing his heart. 

It would be wonderful if the music I make could warm him even more.

I would like to share more of myself with Kurosaki-senpai and hope to understand him better…

Ranmaru: Don’t bother with cheap weapons and come at me with your fists like a real man. 

Camus: Ha. Naturally a savage man would fight in savage ways. Although, if I were to fight with a sword, I would have an unfair advantage. I will oblige.

Ranmaru: Spare me the small talk. Just shut up and hurry.

Haruka: W-Wait… You guys really shouldn’t.

It makes me happy to see Camus-senpai so lively, but if I don’t do something, they’re really going to start going at it.

Haruka: L-Let’s just drop it. Calm down…!

I tried my best to talk them down from the fight and put myself in between them.

Haruka: You two are tired from today’s concert, and I already prepared dinner for Camus-senpai….

I prepared chocolate fondue to celebrate, like I promised. Sounds good?

Camus-senpai looked over at me a little surprised.

Then he chuckled, placed a hand on my shoulder, and brought me closer to him.

Haruka: H-Huhhhhh?

Camus: My apologies, Kurosaki, but I must leave. I have other business to attend to.

Kurosaki-senpai suddenly stopped and his brows furrowed.

Ranmaru: Jeez…. Do whatever you want. This sucked anyway.

Camus: Earlier, you mentioned that I lacked taste, but that sounds like the talk of a sore loser to me.

Camus-senpai spun me, confused, so that my back faced Kurosaki-senpai.

Camus: You, too, should find someone you can be passionate about soon.

Camus-senpai held onto my shoulder for a moment, and then his grip loosened. 

Haruka: Huh…?

Camus-senpai? Who is it you’re passionate….

W-Wait!

*Haruka*

I looked up at him, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so much that I couldn't bring myself to ask him anything.

Camus: Let's go home, Haruka.

Haruka: To your place…?

Camus: Of course. You are still my servant, after all.

Camus-senpai cackled a little and walked off with a spring to his step.

Camus: Now do as I say. ...No objections?

His eyes, so beautiful that I could almost sink into them, looked down at me…

I nodded my head, just as I had done the day we first began to live together.

End

[gobaaby-blog-blog]

Smut that lives in my head - rent free. (Can someone teach me how to add unlimited links?)

(updated 10th Feb 2024)

The kitchen scene is haunting me. @atticrissfinch

I'm actually gonna use some lines in my real life 😁@javiscigarette

The premise? You want Joel to fuck a baby into you and he's read up about it to make sure it takes straight away? Hello, breeding kink. @chloeangelic

From the first scene, I was a goner. Fucking the hate out of each other is so hot. And the 3some scenes had me dreaming about it all night 🤣@lavendertales

The season two scenes, Jesus Christ, so hot. @swiftispunk

The cockpit scene after Doll tries to sacrifice herself again🥵😍 but also MASKED MAN? Hello. @justagalwhowrites

This is only series I re-read, and the greenhouse scene where reader and Tommy lock eyes, omg. @hier--soir

Curiosity, hate, being so similar, and the first kitchen scene 🥵@morning-star-joy

Idiots in love who waited 10 years to be together. Sugar's first time? Breeding kink? I'm in. @chiriwritesstuff

The bathroom scene when Joel comes back to her house 🥵 but basically any scene in this @chloeangelic

I think I see a pattern of office sex kink. CEO!Joel and commitment phobe PA.

https://macfrog.tumblr.com/post/724848521701982208/sex-on-fire-masterlist

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?” Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ — chrome x reader [PGR] [Happy Activation Day Chrome!!]

please don't be in love with someone else

a.n. - sometimes chrome just raghhhhhh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHROMEE!! I promise to finish that other fic for you LOL also thank you for being one of my resilient lil construct, my Lucia and Wanshi are happy to be with you <3 mwa mwa (IM SORRY AGAIN IM LATE)

pairing - chrome x f!commandant

words - 7,881 (it's why I took long TvT)

tags/warnings - none. fluff! alcohol is involved yet again! chrome x reader shenanigans. yall up to what happens in the end uwu. non-sexual naked cuddling. cute stuff for chrome because happy activation day!!

The stars seemed to have blessed Babylonia tonight.

A crowded room. A brightly lit, dazzling chandelier. Wine and champagne glasses clinking together. Orchestral music filling the room — this is a sight that those who can afford luxury would generally see in their life. High society placed itself on top of the pedestal, overlooking its body that wore no gold.

Forget the war that raged outside; Babylonia beheld the grandeur of the rich folk for tonight, and the stars had rewarded their presence by granting the brightest evening for them.

Such sight is normal to a Smith. After all, they were always born with a silver spoon, to feed and to be fed by high society, for everyone to see.

But not for Chrome. He always thought this life was never fit for him.

There he is — champagne in hand, forcing laughter and faking smiles to those who are around him. Humanoid legs are already used to the wages of war, yet they trembled under the hours of talking to people that only blur in his M.I.N.D.

He is only here due to his father, Mr. Smith. “For you to be familiar with the people you will work with in the future,” he always said to Chrome, “be on your best attitude. Show them the makings of a true Smith.”

But they only bore him. He would rather be doing things that are mundane in the eyes of high society, such as lounging in the comforts of Strike Hawk's dormitory; dealing with Kamui's antics, helping Wanshi fix his sleeping pod, tasting Camu's dishes...or cleaning the corners of his room, or strolling the walkways of Babylonia, or playing chess with a certain someone...

A scene flashed in his memory — a warm hand reaching out to him, a sweet smile, a soft laugh, and the chessboard with scattered chess pieces in front of him. A scene that happened not too long ago, a memory so fresh that made him flush a light shade of pink. Was it the alcohol? No, usual alcohol would never make a construct drunk, unless...?

“How are you holding up, Chrome?” A familiar voice called out to him.

Mr. Smith. Holding an identical champagne glass in his hand, he looks up to Chrome with an expectant gaze. Chrome straightens, clearing his throat. “Mr. Smith, I am doing well. I have met the people you told me earlier.”

“Glad to know,” He nods, “it's beneficial as a Smith to meet your future prospects. You know that already, Chrome, don't you?”

“I do, Mr. Smith,” Chrome solemnly spoke.

“Other than that, have you seen the Commandants who are invited tonight?” Smith tsked, “they have commendable records. They seem to enjoy tonight's feast before they go back to war once more. Especially Gray Raven's Commandant, hm.”

Chrome's ears perked up. “Gray Raven's Commandant is here tonight?”

He knew the party was for high society, with some specially invited commandants. Yet, Gray Raven's Commandant? He overlooked that part, why didn't he know?

“Yes, it's understandable due to the glory they have brought to Babylonia countless times now.” Smith paused, moving his hand to make a circular motion with his glass, “I've seen them earlier. Now, they are nowhere to be found.”

“Ah,” Chrome slightly faltered, muttering, “a shame.”

“They also seem to blend well with us, I'd say.” Smith hums, taking a sip from his glass now, “they look well with us, even. We should try asking them to join when they retire.”

A particular thought crosses in Chrome's M.I.N.D. — a person wearing a simple dress amongst the crowd yet so vibrant, the same warm hand he saw as she held onto his arm, smiling fondly at him. The very thought that somehow made his heart crumble in a good way —

“Chrome?” Smith asked, causing Chrome to snap back to reality, “are you alright? You look red.”

“I do?” Chrome muttered, “I'm sorry. There must be something wrong with my cooling system after I got injured last battle. I am planning to get a maintenance check once more.”

“Alright then,” waving his hand, Smith nodded, “I'll leave you be. I need to meet with other people.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Chrome approaches the nearby table tp place his glass, “I will return soon.”

Finally, away from the party, Chrome found himself lingering outside. The garden outside of the hall seems to be the answer to his dilemma, the cool breeze and the artificial night decorated with the authentic stars sparkling above him. He breathes into this sight — once more, a thought that popped into his M.I.N.D.

“The sight may be beautiful in Babylonia,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, “but the ones here on Earth are prettier.”

Bright irises staring at him with a gentle gaze amongst the dark plains, a genuine smile on your lips, “don't you think so, Chrome?”

The memory shook Chrome, his heartbeat skipping. What was it with him lately? Thinking of a particular person that he holds with high regard? It seemed unlike him, the man who only thought of perfection. Battles and tactics are his expertise that makes up his thoughts, yet such stray memories and incredulous scenarios have distracted him since his recent rendezvous with that certain commandant...

His hands tremble. They seem lonely. A small part of him wishes those familiar hands would hold them right now.

Gray Raven's esteemed Commandant. The very thought of her makes Chrome weak. He who should maintain a professional, beneficial relationship with her. Yet, thoughts beyond that relationship seemed to have spawned in his M.I.N.D.

Chrome entertains that thought to no avail. After all, a small part of him wishes he should have seen or heard from you tonight.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star~”

Yes, something like a nursery rhyme that is sung by you. Sometimes, Chrome thinks you drove him insane to the point that he's having hallucinations of you.

“...how I wonder where you are~”

Wait. That voice seems closer and familiar. Surely, he wasn't dreaming. Chrome rushes to the source of the voice.

“up above the world so high,” the voice hiccupped, “like a diamond in the ska-ay~!”

Chrome thinks this sight is one of the best he's ever seen: sitting on the ledge of a fountain, gazing at the water beneath, your sky-blue dress nearly submerged yet you didn't look like she minded; in fact, in your hand was a glass of unfinished wine, and your face seemed too pleased with your antics, a contagious smile written on your face.

Gray Raven Commandant in the flesh. And drunk. (According to Chrome's readings anyway)

“Commandant!” Chrome's voice - shaking? - echoed throughout the garden, making you look, “Over here! What are you doing?”

You finally look at Chrome, your usual bright eyes laced with tiredness and mirth. Upon recognizing the figure that was approaching you, you cheerfully raised your glass to him.

“Hello stranger!!” your shoulders shake with visible joy, “you're hereeee, come on, come on! Join me in watching the fishies~”

Stranger? Perhaps the alcohol fogged your senses. “Fishies?” Curious, Chrome follows where your hand points, to the fountain...devoid of any fish, “I...see?”

Instead of fish, Chrome could recognize that the 'fish' the Commandant referred to are the coins that people must have thrown into the fountain. The reflection brought by the moonlight highlighted with the pattern underneath the fountain must have tricked you into thinking she was talking to fishes. Not wanting to break your delight, Chrome plays along.

“I named that lil' blue fish Lee, because he looks grumpy.” You giggle as you point to a blue-shaded coin, “then that pink one is Liv!”

“That's cute, Commandant,” Chrome chuckles, opting to sit at a considerable distance from you, “who else did you name?”

Lights over the garden seemed ethereal. Haloed with the gentle glow of the skies, the white noise of the party inside the hall, and the mellow laughter of the Commandant — Chrome could easily capture this memory for a lifetime, although you couldn't recognize him. He could try taking away the glass in hand and tell you that you're drunk, but he does not. Instead, he asks more about the 'fishes' you found. And somehow, you went silent.

“Commandant?” Chrome gently pokes the silent Commandant, “are you alright?”

“Mmm,” closing your eyes, you tapped your chin, “stranger, I can't see Chrome...”

The nickname seems to grow on him now. “Well,” he shrugged, “maybe he's sleeping.”

“Fishies never sleep!” opening your eyes just to stare at Chrome, “that's basic knowledge!”

Chrome could finally see you properly: the dress snugly fit you, the train already submerged in the water. Some strands of your hair framed your face perfectly. Alcohol flushed your cheeks in the shade of pink. Irises that still lit brightly amidst the dark, a sight Chrome could never forget. Blinking to come back to reality, Chrome reached out to brush away the strand that was on your lips.

“Some fishes sleep with their eyes open.” Chrome smiled, “but what you said is still, it's true, Commandant is always smart.”

A smug smirk flashed on your lips, arms crossed to assert her amusement, “hm! I told you!”

One of the sleeves fell to your arm as you moved. Flickering to that, Chrome spoke before reaching out to lift it, “Yes, of course. Commandant, are you not cold?”

“Nope!” Somehow filled with a new burst of energy, you drunkenly placed the glass in front of Chrome, making Chrome reel back, before struggling to stand up on the ledge with the heels on. Chrome acts quickly, aiding you by holding your legs for support. “I realized something!”

“Commandant! What are you doing, get down!”

“I need to find Chrome!” you spoke with such reverence, it could make Chrome cry, yet it only made him scared, “he could be drowning!”

Drowning? “Commandant, I know you're smart,” Chrome hesitates, before speaking, “but fishes don't dro-”

“-I know what I'm doing!” you grin at him, rotating your arm as if exercising and exhales, “that's why I'm going to save him from this ocean!”

At that moment, Chrome realizes where he went wrong. “Wait, Commandant, no!”

At least he tried to stop her.

A shivering Commandant is wrapped in Chrome's coat for tonight.

“Are you alright, Commandant?” Chrome spoke as he ran through the streets, “do you still feel cold?”

After the stupid attempt at jumping head-first into the water, Chrome had to save you - even after trying to get away from his hold. Now, you were tightly wrapped in Chrome's coat, carried like a princess in his arms.

Sneezing, you shook your head furiously, “I'm fine, you stranger! Why did you stop me?”

“The waters in Babylonia in the evening get colder. I don't want you to suffer from hypothermia.”

You whine, before sneezing once more. “I was fine! Oh well, I managed to get Chrome though.”

“You managed to- what?”

Fishing out of his hold and the coat, you childishly held out a white and blue-tinted coin. Chrome could only sigh in disbelief.

“Also, put me down, you stranger!” Attempting to wiggle out, you whine more as Chrome tightens his hold on you, the familiar way illuminated by the lights already in sight, “my mama said not to trust strangers!”

“Right,” Chrome laughed, his heart skipping a beat, “don't worry, I'm taking you to Chrome right now.”

Halfway through the run, you drifted off to sleep (and it granted Chrome the opportunity to see you comfortable with your guard down). Finally, they arrived in front of the Smith Estate.

Carefully opening the door, Chrome is met with a comforting silence. Were the cleaning robots still around? He knew his father wouldn't be around until the next day, which meant the robots were the only company. Stepping inside, he finds the place deserted, the faint sound of the Commadant's breathing filling the room. Placing you (not minding the water dripping off of you) to his room on his bed, Chrome rushes to the kitchen.

Still no robots around. Easy to explain and less hassle to explain why a stranger was in his bed. He'll worry about that the next day. Quickly, he grabbed a few pieces of food from the fridge and concocted a hangover drink and water.

Upon returning to his room, Chrome finds you still asleep on his bed. Silently placing the items he brought for you, Chrome wistfully gazes at you.

“you're always taking care of me, Chrome,” you'd say if you were awake, your voice echoes in his M.I.N.D., “I want to return the favor.” (You are now corrupting his thoughts.)

A little stir from you made Chrome snap out of his daydream. Slowly opening your eyes, looking around your surroundings in a daze, Chrome leans down to check on you.

“Commandant,” he softly calls out to you, hand touching yours, “are you awake? Can you sit up?”

“Mmmhm,” rubbing your eyes as you sat up, Chrome aiding you, “where am I...?”

“You're in my room. I will take you back to Gray Raven's headquarters when you've freshened up and rested. Come on, drink some water.”

Your legs dangle on the side of Chrome's bed as you sat up. Your figure, although shivering from the stunt, still seems smaller than him. Chrome reached out to grab the glass of water and hold it out for you, but you only stare at him.

“Commandant?”

“Ch...” you whisper, slowly lifting your cold hands to cup Chrome's cheeks, “Chrome...”

His heart flutters at the call of his name. With a free hand, he caresses the hold on his cheeks. “Commandant?”

“Why are you...hot?”

Chrome's cheeks burn at your touch, he noticed. Was it really the cooling system, or that his growing fondness for the Commandant of another team making him like this?

“The cooling system,” he chose the first option, “I'm trying to get it checked, don't worry.”

“Mmh, Chrome...”

Your innocent, sleepy eyes were looking at him. And you were leaning closer to him. A human instinct, Chrome leans forward as well, until their foreheads touch.

“...Chrome. Why don't you call me by my name?”

It feels expensive. It feels surreal. He wanted to tell her, but the words die in his throat.

“I will only do so, if you wanted me to do it, Commandant.”

“Mmh.” Your breath fans Chrome's own lips, further intensifying the heat in both of your cheeks. “Then, Chrome...”

He closes his eyes. Closer, closer...until you pulled away so abruptly. And then, a warm liquid spilled across his chest.

Chrome's eyes opened. Sometimes, the timings are uncanny.

—

A bathtub full of bubbles, lavender dousing the room with its intoxicating smell. Near the bathtub, Chrome sweats nervously as he stares at the guilty figure sitting on the toilet.

“I'm sorry,” the Commandant, who was usually strong and courageous in the face of danger, shrunk in guilt, voice timid and remorse, “I didn't mean to puke in front of you.”

“It's alright, it's not your fault,” he dismisses it, smiling slightly, “I was planning to get you changed...”

He is already wearing a new set of clothing, compared to you. After that quick nap, you seem sober. But based on Chrome's readings, you are still far from being sober. At least, you recognize him now. Squeaking, you shook your head. “I can't just let it slide. Is there anything I can do for Chrome?”

Kneeling on one knee, Chrome awkwardly pats you. “It's okay, really. Um...”

A reddening blush was on Chrome's cheeks as the words died in his throat. He motions to your soiled clothes, clearing his throat in an attempt to gather his pride.

“Commandant, I am going to...” whispering, “...I'm going to take off your clothes so you can...um, take a bath.”

You stare at him. Blinking tired eyes at him, you slowly nodded. “Okay.”

You turn your back on him, presenting the zipper on your back. For you, it seemed normal (Liv and Lucia are always hands-on whenever you are invited to events like this, so they're seen what's behind those clothes). But Chrome, whose ventilation was now out of place from the possible outcomes running through his head, was shaking and turning into a blushing tomato.

“You can unzip me, Chrome,” you pipped, noticing Chrome's silence, “I can't reach the top.”

A shaky exhale from Chrome. He mutters something you couldn't hear, but could feel the small pressure from his hand holding your hair to the side before resting on your shoulder.

“I will...start unzipping you, Commandant.”

It feels...intimate. The way Chrome held onto the zipper with care, thoughts running wild in his M.I.N.D., dragging it down slowly. You notice it, despite the alcohol fogging your thoughts. The sound of Chrome's nervous breathing, the water dripping from the faucet, the bubbles on the tub — it almost makes you sober.

However, a question seemed to linger on your lips. But before you could ask, Chrome had already unzipped your dress, the sleeves finally down on your shoulders.

“I-I'm done, Commandant.”

You turned to Chrome, a smile on your lips, “Thank you! But...are you...okay...?”

“Yes.”

You weren't that convinced. In front of you, Chrome's hands shook, and his face was in the deepest shade of red. You tilted your head to the side, before shimmying out of your clothes. Yes, still in front of the man who has been nothing but an angel to you.

“I'm done!” You excitedly quipped, standing up, causing the dress to fall to the floor. “where am I going next?”

Seemingly snapping out of his trance, Chrome looks down to pick up your clothes and dashes to the door. He stops by the door frame, his back facing you. “I need to put your clothes in the washer. They'll be ready after you take a bath.”

“Chrome, will-”

But he was already out of the door.

Chrome remembers every part of the laundry process, even without help from the robots. Yet, even though he has loaded up the washing machine (he knows it'll be done in at least 2 hours, clean and fragrant), his hands are still shaking, the memory in the bathroom turning his mind into a haze.

Even when he closed his eyes after he unzipped your dress, or when he heard it drop to the floor, he couldn't help but imagine — how your skin must feel under his touch, soft or smooth; the expanse of your back, would there be goosebumps like when you touch him; would there still be a smile on your face even when you would know about his feelings?

He accidentally slams the door of the washing machine too hard. It's all pointless, really; all he wanted was to show how eager his rapt attention, yet terrified that he may have crossed unwanted boundaries. Maybe he needed some rest. That's right - it has been a long week anyways. Sighing, he leaves to go back to the bathroom, in case you fell back to sleep...

— except, he called it too early.

“Chroooome,” you cried out as you whimpered in the tub, bubbles covering everywhere but your face, “I'm drowning!”

Suffice to say, he wasn't going to be relaxed tonight.

The water was warm.

And so was the hand that you wish you held onto as you dangled your arm on the ledge of the tub, reaching out to Chrome, who sat on the floor. You wanted something - but the golden boy wouldn't budge.

“Join meee,” you pouted, “don't you see I am a lonely girl sitting here so lonely?”

The light of the bathroom casts a glow over Chrome's frame. The sound of the water splashing around, paired with his humming, sends your mind in a close lullaby, you fear you'll only fall asleep at this rate.

“I see you well, Commandant.” He shook his head, “however, I will stay here.”

“Mean.” Huffing, you sunk to the comforts of the bubbling water, feigning annoyance to him “At least I could wash your hair...you said you'd allow me to see you with your hair down...”

“Commandant,” it's a surprise how Chrome could still hold his composure, voice calm and cool, “you are drunk. You are also very dirty, so it's best you wash up now and get dressed in something warm.”

“I'm not drunk!” Exasperatedly raising your hands, you glared at Chrome, “and I can't wash my hair...”

You look at him expectantly, to which he stares back with curiosity. Pointing to your wet hair, you whispered. “I always wondered what it's like to have my hair washed.”

“And?”

“Will you...wash my hair, please, Chrome?”

Crossing his arms, he thinks for a moment. “Will you promise not to do anything stupid?”

“No.”

As he scoots closer to you, you reeled back. Chrome mistook it as something else, when he sees the look on your face.

“...don't tell me you are planning to wash my hair in that.”

“Pardon?”

“Strip!” you pouted, “I get fussy when someone isn't touching me.”

In an instant, you see Chrome's cheeks tint a shade of pink. “Commandant, that sounded...”

“Hurry up,” you yawned, scooting a little closer to the faucet on your legs, “I won't look.”

True to your word, you look elsewhere but wherever Chrome was. Raising your hands high to your face (look how pruned they are, the longer you stay), before the shuffling of clothes and the sound of cautiousness tiptoes its way into the water, beside you. From your peripheral vision, you see two hands reach out to hold your open hands — have these hands looked so lonely until Chrome came?

“Look at you,” he huffs, fingers caressing the pad of your pruned fingers, “you should have been faster.”

You find comfort in this cramped space — the warm water that you're doused in, a familiar body close to yours, a heat that you never realized you've been craving all this time. You crawl; on Chrome's legs, your scent intertwined with the smell of lavender, you hope it rubs on the man beside you. Unknowingly, you crawled further, until your back hits the sturdy structure of Chrome's physique, leaning back to curl up in his chest.

“Can we stay like this?” the words slipped past your mouth, faster than you could have noticed. Without a word, his hands drifted to the expanse of your shoulders, your arms, your clavicle.

His hands rest there, as your body relaxes in his embrace. The subtle, erratic beating of his heart is there, it's not a surprise when yours mirrored his. And you smell the hint of vanilla on his skin, forgetting that he's humanoid in these very small moments. Yet, you breathe into it, the smell lulling you to sleep faster.

“If you want to,” he mutters, “I thought you wanted to rest.”

“I do, but I feel comfortable when there's someone else.”

The quiet snap of the shampoo bottle opens. Along the way, he places his hands over your head, gently massaging the tips of your hair to make the shampoo bubble, to your scalp. Gentle, soft as he held you like this. The way he pours the water over your head, careful enough to not let it reach your eyes. You must smell like lavender now; the scent already sinking into your skin, like how Chrome's warmth was seeping onto your cold ones. His touch felt unreal, it makes you want the world to freeze for a moment and only behold this scenario for a long, long time.

“Commandant,” even his voice was a whisper, movements slowing to a stop, a telltale sign that he's done, and a little emotion was hanging on your chest - annoyance - “finish up washing now. Your hair is done.”

A dissatisfied grunt escaped your lips. Sitting up straight, you turned to him, hands outstretched. “Let me wash your hair too.”

Slightly looking down from your chest, his eyes shot up to meet yours, the blush that was on his cheeks already invading his ears. “N-No. This bath is only for you, Commandant.”

“Pleaseeee,” you dawdled, brushing away the bangs that covered his face, “I want to help you.”

Although hesitant, he lets you anyway; you, crawling to straddle his thighs, reaching out for the shampoo on your right. His eyes were carefully trailing your movement, which made you shrink under his grasp, but you never minded (after all, the both of you are naked in front of each other, what else was the difference?). You mimicked his movements: massaging the scalp, entirely focused on how you moved your hands on him.

“You're so pretty, Chrome...”

“Huh...?”

“I'm drunk but you're still pretty.” you giggled, booping his nose, “in the morning, when I'm sober, I know you'll be prettier.”

You thread your hands into his hair now, forgetting that bubbles should come out, but you're too focused on everything around you, drowsiness coming to catch you.

“Your hair,” you mumbled, aware of his hands placed on your waist, “...it feels really soft.”

“Does it?” He chuckled, eyes closing, “I'm glad you think so, Commandant.”

Commandant. A title you've always worn, but the way he called you that, a gnawing feeling crammed in your chest — with that pretty mouth of his, a stray thought made you think: what would it be like if he were to say your name?

“You never call me by my name.”

Turquoise irises locked with yours. Unable to pull away, mesmerized by the magnitude it beheld as you stared at each other — you wanted to speak, but Chrome beats you to it.

“I- I never thought I'm allowed to say it.” Looking away, the flush you've seen earlier came back and dusted his cheeks, “we never established it before.”

“Call me by my name then, Chrome.”

You wonder how your name would sound when it leaves his lips. You wonder, if the sound of your heartbeat reverberates if speaks, if he calls you in a name hidden behind your title — and for a moment, you've realized.

“[Y/N],” it is quiet, a soft tone calling for your name, “[Y/N],”

All you could do is close your eyes. Your mind is racing. The sound of two people, breathing in the silence, in the warmth of another's presence. The bubbles are now dissolving in your fingers and in his hair, you're certain the ones on your head are gone too. Were you still drunk, or had the intensity of your feelings reached its threshold? It made your mind spin, and your fingers tremble. What was going on?

“Did that sound weird?” You opened your eyes to find Chrome's worried gaze. Still realizing the situation you're both in - and yet you were both comfortable now - you opened your mouth, only to close it.

You realized you've always liked Chrome all this time.

And the way he said your name is far from what you've imagined. You breathe in once more at his appearance: disheveled hair coated in shampoo, flushed cheeks in contrast to his pale complexion, doe-eyed in the shade of the light. Of course, you had to fall for this man. And it made your heart ache - alcohol or the touches alone? Who knows.

“No.” You quietly spoke, looking away, hiding the blush on your cheeks, “I...want to get out now.”

Chrome doesn't say a word. Instead, he stood up and left you there - confused, in a daze. When he comes back, a pair of clothes were on his arms.

“Can you stand, co...I mean, [Y/N]?”

“Thank you for the clothes.”

You spoke by the time you re-entered his room, the oversized shirt hanging loosely on your body. You looked at your appearance in the mirror twice before leaving the room, where you'd deemed it was good enough, however; judging by the way Chrome was staring at you intensely, head to toe, you couldn't help but wonder - is something wrong?

Chrome must have changed the sheets first, the shade of blue occupying the space on the bed. He now stood behind a smaller stool, a hair dryer in hand. You awkwardly stood, gesturing to the sight behind you: “I promise I'll repay you back when I get back.”

“The shirt,” He looks away for a moment, before clearing his throat, “it looks...good on you.”

You looked down — the oversized white shirt with the print fading away reaching down your thighs, just above your knees. At least, you were wearing something to combat the cold, yet your back catches the wetness of your hair, which made your temperature drop further. Noticing this, Chrome motions you to sit on the stool.

You are compliant with his wishes. He starts to turn the hair dryer on, before carefully handling your hair. In front of you was a tall mirror, which must have been Chrome's height. As he gently starts to dry your hair, you take in your surroundings - it's your first time in Chrome's room. As they say, the bedroom reflects its owner; tidy, neat, and everything in place. Various books with small print on the spine you couldn't make out on the shelves, the Queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. A perfectly neat study table with a few papers here and there near the dresser of the bed. It brings you to shame, how cleanly Chrome sets up his room which is far different from yours.

It reflects; your senses in a daze as you feel Chrome weaving through your locks, attentive to how his turquoise irises are on his masterpiece. Your eyes look up at his face once more.

“You also look good with your hair down.”

His attention flickers back to you. It's true - he looks more human this way, hair framing his face. Blinking slowly, he sheepishly laughs. “Ah, I always have my hair down after a shower. Do I look weird?”

“No.” You admit, “you look handsome still.”

Another wave of silence washes over. You realize you're more sober this way, the guilt of not talking too much gnawing on the back of your throat. But you are thankful, Chrome takes the opportunity.

“You are wearing my shirt that the F.O.S. gave,” humming, he brushes away the hair on your back, heat radiating off on your back, “they gave it shortly after graduation. I took it before father could notice.”

The hair dryer shuts off. He places it on the dresser, eyes still on your now-dried hair. You asked, “does your father not want you wearing these things?”

“He thinks it's useless. After all, medals and honor are the only valuable things the college would give to you.”

“But I see that it seems well-used,” you smell the cologne Chrome uses every day, “like you've always worn it.”

His hand is on your shoulder, tracing the outline. “Shortly after my Construct surgery, I always wore this. Anywhere as long as my father wouldn't see.”

A thought where Chrome wears the shirt comes to mind, in bed, clutching the fabric. Holding a handful and raising it to your nose, you spoke, “is there a reason?”

But he only sighs. “I am a Construct.” He looks up to meet your eyes in the mirror, “I am made for war. I threw away my humanity a long time ago.”

Those words tugged a hidden emotion in you. Spinning to meet his figure, you craned your neck just so you can properly look at him. Words are bubbling in your mouth, but it comes out dry.

Yet, you try anyway. “It's true that you're made for war, but you shouldn't be denied of these...”

“It's alright, co...[Y/N].” The call of your name sends your heart into somersaults, “I've learned it the hard way. There is no need for me to feel that way anymore.”

“Besides,” he added, as he got on one knee, smiling, “it's time for you to take a nap. It's past 2 am now. I wouldn't want my Commandant to be sleep deprived, yes?”

“I-” you looked at Chrome, you don't pretend you didn't mishear his words. Looking at his irises, you took a deep breath.

“The first time I saw Chrome,” you began, “I always thought you were attractive.”

That caught his attention. Tilting his head with an eyebrow raised, he curiously asked, “I'm sorry?”

“I wondered why a human like me was roaming around the city ruins that day.” You fidgeted with the hem of your clothes, “But then, I saw your inver-device.”

Ah, this memory. Chrome remembers it fondly. In the heat of dispute, where Lee had been injured badly, he doesn't remember if it was the situation at hand or the way the sunlight shone down on you that day - either way, he always thought it was something for that moment.

“It didn't change one bit of my impression of you.” You take a deep breath, “I think...it became something else.”

Your heart beats chaotically. You're sure it's the alcohol, but you're also aware that it's your feelings shaping at this very moment. Your hands tremble with want - to hold Chrome, to hold his hand.

“Something else?”

“I don't see you as a Construct, Chrome,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his chin, eyes trailing where your finger touched, “I see you more than that.”

You're aware; his gaze on you, as his own fingers shake as they touched yours. Such feelings have echoed in your mind, and you are afraid they wouldn't go away unless you tell them upfront. Are you scared to be rejected? Too bad, you're not; let the alcohol drain all your fears tonight.

“I don't want you to keep calling me 'Commandant'. I don't like it when you see me as someone from F.O.S., but I like it when you touch me, or when you're close to me-”

His hand is holding yours now. Firm, gentle. He's in front of you, and you swore you could see the future reflect in his irises. It's warm, the way he grasped your hand, fingertips touching his lips. His eyes are closed - a single kiss on every finger, mouth muttering some kind of prayer.

“[Y/N],” he whispers on your fingers, gazing at you with an expression you've never seen him make before.

Loving. Adoration. Something along those lines. It claws on your stomach, inching up to the top, that if you opened your mouth you would regret.

“When I saw you at that time, I didn't know what to think. I remember thinking: would you only be another soldier I will see on the battlefield, regardless if dead or alive?”

“Am I the former?”

“A part of me thought so. But...”

He pauses, before taking your hand to his chest, a strong vibration echoing there. Your heart feels the same, it wishes to free itself from the cages of your ribcage and into whatever was in the middle of the both of you.

“If I were to lose you, I...wouldn't know what I'll do.”

Heaviness weaves in your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, blissfully unaware of the distance left between your lips. “Chrome,”

“[Y/N], I cannot...”

“I like you, Chrome.” It is a genuine confession. You never lied. “I like you too much, that I feel like my heart can't handle it if you disappear on me, too.”

A confession that brought tears to your eyes. “I want to run away with Chrome. I don't want to be away from you.”

“I'm not going away.” He took you by the waist, propping you on his thighs, “I'm here.”

“Meeting you...being here with you...it feels enchanting.” You closed your eyes, blindingly touching wherever your hands meet, “Please don't be in love with someone else...”

Chrome feels like it's the first time for him to recognize the ability to love. The passion for studying, living in the moment where examinations take place, keeping everything orderly — it has always been how he always lived. Yet, for the first time — someone was here in his room, in his touch, in this space. It makes him greedy; it makes him wild.

“[Y/N],” his hands cup your cheek, nuzzling your cheek, “I feel the same way. I like you - I adore you. Every glory I will bring to you, it will be all for you.”

That confession triggered something inside of you - to bridge the gap between the both of you. Leaning forward, the urge to slam your lips to him right there and then grows fervently. However, a hand stops your advances. Pulling back, you are met with a blushing Chrome, looking at you in awe.

“Comman- I mean, [Y/N], as much as I want to kiss you...I cannot. I can't kiss you when you are still drunk.”

“But I want to, let me show you how much I like you.”

His hand easily slips under your shirt, warm ones grasping your hips, rubbing circles around it, “In the morning. When you are sober, when you are about to make better judgement. I will let you do whatever you want.”

A mischievous smile graced your lips. “Anything?”

The blush on his face became a darker shade. Shyly nodding, “Yes, anything.”

He eases into his arms. Lifting you up and carrying you to bed, a thought crosses your mind — you, in a long white gown, and him, in a silver tuxedo. You see him in the lights of the room, illuminated in this dark evening, his smile sending ripples of your heart into motion. You see him this way, your hand carrying a bouquet of flowers that you both love, your fingers intertwined with a ring of promise. In your thoughts he carries you like this, and you swore it felt familiar; one day, you wish. You would have to tell him in the morning.

But for now, the alcohol hits you harder more than ever, drowsiness threatening to shut your eyes. As you felt yourself dip into the mattress - his bed - you wish you could stay with him, the lingering warmth on your skin now fading as you feel him pull away. But your mouth is a jumbled mess, only opting for the fatigue to succumb to you. So, you use your hand, grasping whatever you could reach - his shirt, his hand, his arm.

“Don't go.” You beg, voice laced with grogginess and want, “won't you stay here?”

“I will be sitting here next to you. Don't worry, I'm not going away.”

“No,” your voice sounds like you're pleading now, “don't go, stay beside me. I want you to be beside me when I wake up.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Stay with me, Chrome.”

With a sigh, you feel the space beside you dip. The shuffling of sheets, the smell of lavender invading your weary senses. At last, warm hands enclose yours, before placing them close to his lips, one last kiss before darkness consumed your senses.

“Goodnight, [Y/N],” you knew he'd tell you that, “I will see you in the morning.”

Chrome doesn't see you in the morning.

When sunlight slipped through the windows, he woke up to an empty space beside him. Disappointment comes knocking on his door, calling out that he was only dreaming for something unreal, something that only humans would indulge in. Although the sheets prove that someone else was here with him last night, he doesn't dwell on that slipping hope. Instead, disappointment and frustration, paired with despondency, makes a home inside his chest and his M.I.N.D.

No longer interested in ruminating on the mattress, he drags himself out of bed. However, the robots that usually greet him aren't around still. But the floors and the walls on the rooms he passed are cleaner than what he saw last night.

Probably elsewhere. Probably at the garden.

But the glass door to the garden shows no signs of robots, at least where his sight can reach. No robots cutting grass or cleaning the pool. At times like these, they should've been around. Where were they?

A sound of an R5 cleaning robot chimes in nearby. Chrome follows the sound, and the sight isn't something he was expecting.

“You did well,” your voice feels like a cloud, floating amongst the sea of beeping robots, “thank you for your help.”

Your back faces Chrome. Crouching in front of a faceless R5 cleaning robot, you gently patted its "head", small giggles on your lips.

“You're a good robot, aren't you,” the sound of beeping seemingly mirroring an appreciative noise, “you're a very good robot.”

A sizzle comes out of the oven, to which you jump to your feet, scrambling to reach the stove. “Ah, it's getting burned!”

Chrome couldn't help but admire you; the way you move, your interactions with the robots although lifeless, and your cautiousness seemed to boost his adoration for you. It must have been his M.I.N.D., but the sunlight on your toes, his shirt that fits you perfectly despite being too big for you, and the smile as you tasted whatever you were cooking — it hits him harder. The want, the like, the adoration for someone he could never think he'd fall for. The feeling that his chest had earlier disappeared; only warmth began to repair its fractured roots.

“Chrome?” Your quiet voice called out, the beep of the robot chiming in, “you're awake.”

“And you're here.”

Is this what pining feels like? An unspoken feeling that settles deep between the distances of the two of you. He knows he shouldn't hope, when a night drowned in alcohol remembers nothing. Yet, the way your eyes seem to tell him something, he hopes to cling onto whatever was left in his pride.

“Good morning,” he spoke, aware of his morning voice now, “I apologize that you had to be the one to cook.”

“N-no, it's alright! The robots mostly did the work. I merely supported them.”

“Still,” he slowly approached you, timid footsteps leading to you, “the fact that you treat them as if they're human too speaks a lot.”

“It's even a surprise that they show no hostility to you. They are trained to fend off those who are unfamiliar in the household.”

“Commandant [Y/N] is welcomed.” the robot from earlier chirped, “helped us with housework.”

“Mr. Smith also invited me here once in a while to talk about politics.” You shrugged, opting to pat the robot once more, “I just did a favor for them.”

You nodded to it, to which it purrs in your touch. Satisfied, it happily trots away, probably deciding to work elsewhere.

Another silence. You've decided to go back and finish cooking the food, but the fire had long been doused (probably from the advancement of this stove?). Chrome wants to talk, yet no words could be formulated in his head. After the agonizing long silence, you took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

“I remember what happened last night.”

Chrome freezes. He looks up to meet your guilty eyes looking elsewhere. “You do?”

“I...am regretful that I puked on you. That's why I decided to clean up here as an exchange.”

Ah, so you don't remember what happened afterwards. Chrome's heart sinks, before noticing you looking away, and a creeping blush on your cheeks.

“I...also remember that I asked you to take a bath with me.”

Memories of last night came crashing over his M.I.N.D. The garden, the bed, the bathtub, the hair dryer, and your skin — all a mixture of things that only makes him go haywire. His blush mirrors yours; that means one more thing.

“I also remember telling you how I feel.” You began, “and I...”

The sinker comes. And Chrome's heartbeat isn't sure now. But you - you approached him, eyes down, figure covered, but reaching out to him. With shallow breaths, you raised your hand to his chest, before looking up. And there - your eyes meet his. Same innocent, shimmering eyes looking at him with vigor, with enchantment; he forgets how to breathe.

“I like you, Chrome.”

You've said it once more. Sober, genuine, and true. And it breaks Chrome's heart into pieces, folded and mashed into dough, before it forms in the shape of a heart. You've set the oven now; his feelings are ready to be baked, ready to be eaten - and he wants you. No, he needs you to be the one to take it.

“I still like you, even when I'm drunk or sober. I want to be with you all the time. I want you, Chrome. I want you to be part of the future that I am building.”

Wordlessly, he captures your hips and pulls you close, him leaning down just so the proximity knows no bounds. He feels your breath ghost his lips, your heartbeat in his ribcage - it beats, and beats, and beats so loudly he forgets you're in the kitchen at daylight; in a house he's grown up with no love, but he's here now. Creating a love that no Smith can forge.

“A concrete object made of materials and information, whose borders are continuously constructed and reconstructed,” said the definition for 'Smith'. He could live in that definition forever, but what about Chrome?

“I am forging a new one.” He whispers, “I am...bridging the new future with you.”

Your eyes are shining, and there he knew-

“I like you, too, [Y/N].”

If only bodies were capable of seeing what's happening underneath, a cadenza ringing in Chrome's heart, beating furiously for you, only you. You smiled, a mischievous gaze written across your face.

“Does the offer about me doing anything I want when I'm sober still stand?”

He smiles back. “Of course.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Tiptoeing to reach Chrome's height, you craned your neck and tugged his shoulder. But Chrome is kind; he hoists you up by the hips, capturing your lips in an instant.

Sweet is a word to describe the first kiss Chrome shared with someone in his life. Forget the war, forget that you're on the kitchen island; it's only two lovers baring their adoration for one another, sharing a kiss blessed in daylight. It's warm, it's soft, it's needy - the way you both melt into each other, how you wrapped your arms around his neck, or how his hands are holding you up. Enchanted, Chrome's M.I.N.D. echoes, it's really enchanting.

Satiated, you both pull away, breathless, as your foreheads touch. He doesn't let you go, though. You (unfortunately) do, when the other kitchen door opens, a parade of little robots bursting through the door.

You cheer as the little robots go through the surprise: a small banner written "Happy Birthday!" hastily, and the cake you baked earlier with the robots. Chrome looks at you confused, before noticing what the parade had brought.

“How-”

“Happy birthday, Chrome,” You beamed, hands cupping his cheeks, “you deserve the celebration.”

“Thank you.” He whispers on your chin, leaving little kisses there, “I really appreciate this...I appreciate you.”

“You should enjoy today.” You winked, “my birthday present to you is for later.”

“Later?”

You squeezed his arm. He blushes. “Yes, later.”

Chrome is thankful his heart doesn't need to somersault out of his chest now. At least, until later.

HAPPY LATE ACTIVATION DAY CHROME!!!!!! please like, reblog, share, comment down on this post! don't copy and plagiarize my work!!

[girlintodust]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ about me ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

˖࣪ ໒꒱ my name's Jo, nini is a childhood nickname!

˖࣪ ໒꒱ i'm 20, aries, infp, bisexual

˖࣪ ໒꒱ i speak english, spanish and italian

˖࣪ ໒꒱ i'm a college student majoring in philosophy

˖࣪ ໒꒱ some things i love: books, reading, coffee, coke zero, going out for walks, music (especially discovering new music you know it'll become your favorite), classical music, people watching while smoking, pencil sketches, pinterest, old hollywood films, japanese culture, rain and winter, cats, pretty rings, listening to people talk.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ pls MDNI directly (explanation below) ⤵

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ important! ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

˖࣪ ໒꒱ this blog is destined to all things i love which is a mixture of a couple different aesthetics. however, i migth use this account to vent sometimes: i suffer from an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. while i DO NOT encourage eating disordes by ANY means (this is NOT a pr0 an@ acc) i might talk about it or reblog things related, so please be advised. my dm's are always open to anyone who wants to talk, but i will not be giving advice or stats. i might also reblog or post +18 content.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ my favorites ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

˖࣪ ໒꒱ books: the secret history (henry winter apologist), the solitude of prime numbers, to the light house and mrs dalloway by virginia woolf, anne frank's diary, kafka's metamorphosis, the stranger by albert camus, jane eyre, wuthering heights, madame bovary, the bell jar, simone de beauvoir's memoirs of a dutiful daughter, alejandra pizarnik's diaries, prozac nation.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ movies: crimson peak, pride and prejudice (2005), into the wild, amelie, the grand budapest hotel, leon the professional, chungking express, all about lily chou-chou, howl's moving castle, the wind rises, marie antoinette, girl interrupted, edward scissor hands, alice in wonderland.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ music: lana del rey, fiona apple, ethel cain, ichiko aoba, her's, the smiths, plums, mazzy star, the cranberries, beach fossils, radiohead, the cure, kate bush.

˖࣪ ໒꒱ people: matthew gray gubler, nana komatsu, sylvia plath, jane birkin, hope sandoval, tim burton, humphrey bogart, audrey hepburn, gregory peck, keira knigthley, kirsten dunst, sofia coppola, anya taylor joy, elle fanning, pheobe tonkin, fiona apple, aaron hotchner, spencer reid, theo james, kate moss, franz kafka, vladimir nabokov, albert camus.

[hoboblaidd]

REPOST AND LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

just a man by EPIC the Musical

Every man I've slain is the price I pay, endless pain. Close your eyes and spare yourself the view. How could I hurt you? / But when does the comet become a meteor? When does a candle become a blaze? When does a man become a monster? When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame? When does a man become a monster? / (forgive me)

what could have been by Sting, Ray Chen

I am the monster you created, you ripped out all my parts. And worst of all, for me to live, I gotta kill the part of me that saw that I needed you more / I hope you know we had everything and you broke me and left these pieces. I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play what could have been

saturn by Sleeping at Last, Tim Fain

You taught me the courage of stars before you left, how light carries on endlessly, even after death / With shortness of breath, I'll try to explain the infinite and how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

when it's cold i'd like to die by Moby

Where were you when I was lonesome? Locked away with freezing cold. Someone flying, only stolen. I can't tell, this night's so old / What was that, my sweet, sweet nothing? I can't hear you through the fog. If I holler, let me go. If I falter, let me know / I don't wanna swim the ocean. I don't wanna fight the tide. I don't wanna swim forever

your world will fail by Les Friction

Your world has got you controlled and silent. You can't fill a whole with a billion empty souls. Your world has got you alone and silent / Your world will fail my love, it's far beyond repair. Your world will fail my love, it's already there. Calm before the rage, hostage in a cage. Now it's too late to wake up this place and bring you all back to life

the man who can't forget by the Bardbells

The colors of his morning, the darkness of his night, little graves that gave no warning, a sun that brought no light / he saw his whole world breaking, that tortured soul I met in a prison of his making / I can still hear the way that he cried for the ones he was missing. I can still hear the way that he cried for the ones he had lost / He caused the whole world’s breaking, the tortured soul I met, in a prison of his making. the man who can’t forget

& LIST 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man? Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me? - Paradise Lost

When you’re too tired or too afraid to defend yourself, defend others. - Peter S. Beagle

Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being. - Albert Camus

It is restful, tragedy, because one knows that there is no more lousy hope left. You know you’re caught, caught at last like a rat with all the world on its back. And the only thing left to do is shout. - Jean Anouilh

I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there’s only one conclusion: I’m damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they’ve set me on a path from which there is no escape. - Andor

I sought loneliness when I was young. You’ve seen me there: on my promontory, patient and unaware. But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me. - This is How You Lose the Time War

tagged 300 years ago by @avrorean

tagging. @extravagantliar @wepthonor @martyrmarked @theodosiani @keepslore and anyone else!