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#my brain provides enough already!!!

jonny-b-meowborn · 11 months

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As time goes by I'm becoming more and more sure that I just can't survive on my own. I can take basic care of myself, but the second I have to go to a doctor or do some formal stuff I get paralyzed. I just can't. Fuck, I can barely even talk to strangers in general. Or even not strangers, I can't fucking text someone back if I'm not close to them, it's just so scary and exhausting. I'm becoming emotionally tired more easily and sometimes even talking with my mom about anything is too much for me and I love my mom. And I really need her, I can't do basic stuff without her pretty much holding my hand all the time. I can't get a normal job. We went to this blueberry plantation a few times but I just couldn't go there without her, and now the job is over and we can't go there at all. If I wasn't such a fucking baby I'd go there a few more times alone and get some money. I can't make calls, there's literally like two people I feel comfortable talking on the phone with. People used to say I was mature for my age when I was younger but I never grew up and now I'm almost 21 and can't do anything with my life. I'm scared of everything, I'm constantly exhausted physically and mentally. I'm like a fucking child. I'm scared that I'm gonna have to live with my mom my whole life. I can't see a future for myself, I'm just not able to survive without help and at some point I won't be able to get help, I don't want to be a parasite living off of my mom's money but I don't see anything else I could do. I hate my brain so much. I hate the way it refuses to work. I hate myself for being such a child.

#you know theres this weird idk. impostor syndrome about me and my autism #like on one hand i know that autism is a disability. but on the other i cant think of myself as disabled #cause im not 'autistic enough'. because i can keep myself fed and clean and healthy and alive as long as im provided with everything i need #but then i have a full on breakdown because my new laptop doesnt work and i have to go to the store to have it checked/replaced #i wanna throw up just thinking about it #i cant do anything without my moms help #i wanna throw up and cry and die when theres too much happening around me. i cant survive in the real world. i just can't #i cant get a job or a partner or go to college or move out or even just fucking. go to a store and ask for help with my laptop.#i feel like im destined to live w my mom forever and not achieve anything and die alone #i keep talking about wanting to make a living with my art but thats bullshit. i do want that but i know it's not possible for me #i cant even fucking finish the commissions i already have. im scared to get new ones. im scared to do anything.#my brain refuses to let me work on anything #and yeah i am burnt out after my diploma and exams and all that but at some point i just have to admit im not built for that. for anything.#im built to live like a parasite baby and die #my mom is too good of a person to kick me out but i wouldnt blame her. im useless. i cant make money. i cant take care of myself #i dont know what to do #bee buzz

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justtogetthrough · 4 months

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Her, looking up from her phone she’s been on all night while movies play on the tv: “Welp. I think I’m gonna go to bed”

Me, faintly: “okay. Me too”

Her, looking at me intently for the first time in hours: “Are you okay?”

Me, the skin on my face burning from having a silent meltdown over the last 7 hours, saying in a quiet and high pitched voice: “Yes”

Her, looking at me even more intently knowing that’s a straight up lie: “Are you sure?”

Me, trying not to cry and my voice going up even higher because I didn’t know what else to say: “Yes”

Her, part smiling gently part grimacing nervously probably from having no idea what to do on account of having never actually seen me be anything but fine/stable enough despite constant passive misery: “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.”

Me, says I love you back, watches her head towards her room, comes downstairs to where I’m sleeping and looks in the mirror at what’s burning on my face, sees that I’ve very noticeably scratched two whole ass patches of skin off the side of my cheek with my fingernail over the course of the night 😬

#I needed a hug. I can’t ask for hugs. I’m so ashamed and triggered about existing I spent the entire evening at the furthest #end of the couch from her when usually I inch myself closer and closer towards her without touching like the needy ass mf i am #I hate today. I hate how my body can’t and won’t forget.#I think I know why she didn’t hug me and it’s a good reason but my brain is still going ‘no one will ever touch you. you’re contaminated’#‘you’re not worthy of love’ ‘no one cares enough about you to provide physical reassurance’#‘you don’t exist in a way that is real enough for anyone to touch’#‘you’re 8000 traumas in a trenchcoat and no one will ever be able to provide you with what you need to feel okay’#if I lie down the wrong way the tears run straight into the scrapes and it burns #personal #I wish this ptsd would kill me already #tomorrow I go home and see my cat

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explicit-tae · 7 months

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Ungodly Hour (2)

You’re encouraged by Chaeyoung, your roommate, to use Jungkook thirst for you to your advantage.

Word Count: 2.314

Warning: smut, dirty talking, thirsty jk as always, also simp jk, facesitting, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, jimin and mc are friendemies,

“Bitch.” Jimin murmurs beneath his breath as he passes you and all you can do is roll your eyes.

“So sassy.” you quip, a smirk forming onto your lips.

“Don’t listen to him.” Jungkook pipes in, holding two cases of water bottles in his arms. You furrow a brow, eyes admiring (in secret) how the veins on his arms pulse. “He’s just mad he had to help bring the groceries in.”

Jimin drops a few bags against your kitchen table and rolls his eyes. “I was promised breakfast. Instead I’m walking up three flights of stairs to put food in your kitchen.”

Jungkook scoffs, placing your water gently by the other two packs already on the ground inside the kitchen. Chaeyoung is excited, already putting away the groceries Jungkook - generously - provided. The cabinets were already full enough and she hadn’t even made it to the fridge or freezer. She could kiss Jungkook for the month supply of food - but you were already repaying him.

“Sucks to suck.” you shrug your shoulders when Jimin passed you again with even more bags.

“You would know a lot about sucking.” Jimin retorts.

“You want to fuck me so bad, Jimin.” you laugh and the comment catches Jimin completely off guard. He flushes, but you don’t want to tease the man any more.“You’re just upset, Jungkook kicked you off of his account.” you cross your arms, and this struck a nerve in Jimin.

It was a month ago when Jimin had texted you - getting your number from Chaeyoung - just to tell you that you were everything but a civilized human being. Why? Because you had complained to Jungkook that whenever you were watching something, Jimin also was. And that meant - to satiate you - Jungkook had removed Jimin’s devices from his account and changed the passwords.

“I was binge watching The Real Housewives!” Jimin snaps. “But I suppose pussy is worth our friendship.” the man crosses his arms, eyes glancing at Jungkook.

“You’ll get your breakfast.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. He rummages through his sweats and grabs his wallet. He hands Jimin a black card.

“It’s the least you could do.” Jimin glances your way and rolls his own eyes. He leaves without a second word and all you could do is giggle.

“Do you have anything planned today? Classes?”

You shake your head. You were completely free today and have done so to repay Jungkook for his generous donation.

Jungkook nods. His eyes glance to Chaeyoung who is still happily organizing the insane amount of groceries. She’s humming to herself with a grin on her lips.

“When is she leaving?” Jungkook murmurs, a red tint on his cheeks. He doesn’t want to come across as desperate - but that’s exactly what he was. He had replied far too fast to your tweet (and of course he would, he had your notifications on, afterall) and raced to the Supermarket first thing in the morning.

You stroll towards Jungkook. You wrap your arms around his waist and knit your brows. “I can’t kick Chae out. She lives here, too.”

Jungkook nods, defeated. “We can watch a movie-”

“No.” Chaeyoung calls from the kitchen opening. “I’ll put my airpods in and put the rest of the groceries away. Don’t let me stop you from fucking his brains out.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, flushing even a deeper shade of red. Chaeyoung speaks as if Jungkook isn’t there, her eyes solely on you. “Make sure you go multiple rounds. He bought everything name-brand!”

Jungkook tilts his head.

“Let’s go!” you sing-song, grasping his hand to race towards your room. You open the door and close it behind you and Jungkook.

“You guys must’ve been starving.” Jungkook jokes, his hands immediately on you.

“A little.” you murmur, capturing your lips with his own. Kissing could be considered intimate, but at this stage, you were fucking Jungkook for about anything and for nothing. Sometimes you two weren’t even doing that - you watched movies together, studied whenever needed and just enjoyed each other's company.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?” Jungkook presses open mouth kisses upon the skin of your neck. He’s already dipping his hands beneath your pajama shorts to feel your ass.

“Just got on birth control.” you respond when he pulls your shorts off of you completely. You fall onto your bed. “Decided to use it to my advantage.”

Jungkook groans, hovering above you. That means that this didn’t have to be a one time thing - he could cum in you as much as you’d let him. “You don’t need to do anything for me, you know?” Jungkook lifts your shirt from your head, discarding it to the side. Your breasts fall freely and he’s already pressing kisses upon them. He does the same to his shirt soon after. “I don’t mind buying you things.”

You wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. You never want to admit that his words get to you. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good heart (and dick) for making you feel things you weren’t suppose to feel outside of sex .

“You must waste so much money on all these girls.” you attempt to sound unbothered by his words. His tongue is already swirling your nipple with his thumb pinching the other. “Fucking s-simp.” he’s grinding against your heat, the friction perfect.

“You know you’re the only one that has access to me.” Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth. He proceeds to lick, eyes flickering to you. You press yourself tighter against his clothed cock, grinding against it.

“I don’t.” You do - but it does something to you to hear him say it. Maybe it was an ego thing - a pride. It makes your head big just knowing that Jungkook would do anything you asked and expected next to nothing in return.

“You do, Y/N. You know you’re my girl.” Even if the agreement was to keep things completely sexual, to everyone but the two of you, this was a relationship. You hung out outside of sex far too often for this to be a regular friend with benefit type of situation - but it was like the blind leading the blind. “You wanna sit on my face?”

You nod your head hastily. In seconds, Jungkook was beneath you, tugging your underwear off so you could sit on him like he asked. The first time he requested it, you felt indifferent. You never sat directly on anyone before and you were afraid to suffocate him. However, Jungkook insisted and since then, sitting on his face has been your (and his) favorite position to try.

Jungkook isn’t the one to waste time. He’s suckling onto your clit with ease, hands gripping your thighs in place. He loves it more when you grind against his tongue - he enjoys watching you tremble with pleasure. He has the perfect view of not only your leaking pussy, but your breast and your beautiful face. It was the perfect position for him.

You were a truthful person - you’d give Jungkook his flowers. The man is insanely attractive and whenever you sat on his face, you could never last too long. Jungkook always insisted on watching you - he stated he loved the way you always crumbled for him. How you’d moan while grinding against his tongue.

It’s what Jungkook’s doing now. He locks his eyes with yours. He clenches your thighs as an unspoken response.

“S-Stop looking at me.” you whine. You lift your hips, but Jungkook doesn’t allow it. He pulls you back down against his tongue.

“You’re always so stubborn.” Jungkook muffles between your legs. He’s flicking his tongue between your folds. “I know you’re about to cum, baby. Stop being so embarrassed.”

You mentally groan because of course there it was. That word. Jungkook knew how to fluster you - if he meant to do it or not.

“Fine.” you grumble.

Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Now ride my face.” he says. He closes his eyes to not further fluster you, even if he did want to watch you cum right in front of him.

You do as you’re told, grinding your hips against his tongue. Jungkook holds you in place, silently encouraging you to continue. You can feel the familiar bubble deep in your stomach and your hips pick up the pace. You release a deep moan, eyes fluttering close.

Jungkook takes a peek at you, feeling his cock twitch. So beautiful you were. He could watch you like this for as long as you’d let him.

Jungkook knows you’re going to cum once your moans become high pitched and your hips jerk. He doesn’t take his eyes off of your face as you come undone, his cock basically begging for a release.

You feel tired when you move yourself from Jungkook’s lips. You fall against your bed with a sigh.

Licking his lips, Jungkook hovers above you. “Tired?”

You nod your head. “A little.” you always were after cumming on his tongue. It was inevitable.

Jungkook nods. “You hungry? I can…make us something?”

You groan once more. There he was again being nice and doing things to your heart that he wasn’t supposed to do.

“You can after you cum inside of me.”

It’s hard to ignore the bulge in Jungkook’s sweats.

“You sure. It’s okay-”

You slap Jungkook’s chest, interrupting his speech. “Shut the fuck up, Jungkook.” you hiss. “You’re too nice.”

Jungkook snickers. “You want me to be an insensitive asshole?” Yes you did. It made things easier. You told yourself (and Chaeyoung) that you wouldn’t fall for this nice boy act and become far too gone. He made it hard. Offering to make you cum was different than cooking for you.

“You do.” Jungkook hums. “Is that some type of kink?”

“Fuck you.” you hiss. “Maybe I just want you to be a little rough sometimes.”

Jungkook smirks, understanding your tone. You were closing yourself off because you were flustered - and the only way for you to calm yourself was to insult him.

“If that’s what you wanted, it’s all you had to say, baby.” Jungkook pushes his sweats down and kicks it off. His bulge is entirely too huge inside his underwear. “I’d do whatever you ask me to do.”

Shit. There he was again. Jungkook knew what he was doing.

“Turn around.” Jungkook slaps your thigh. “Since you want to be treated like a whore, I'll do just that.”

You may have turned entirely too quickly, but you couldn’t help it.

Jungkook positions himself at your entrance. “Let me know if I’m too rough, okay?”

“Stop being a pussy.”

Jungkook only chuckles.

Jungkook then enters you, you’re so wet that you take him far too easily. He begins his pace brutally, pushing your face down into your pillows. He keeps one hand tangled into your hair while the other grips your hips.

This was new. No, Jungkook wasn’t technically vanilla. He could be rough when needed - but this? This was a new side of Jungkook that has you clenching around him. With each thrust, he hits a nerve, sending you more and more over the edge.

“No back talk?” Jungkook huffs, cracking his hips to fuck into you deeper.

You want to tell Jungkook to go fuck himself, but then he pulls your hair back in a way that has you whimpering for more.

“You always insist on being a bitch.” Jungkook releases your hair to wrap his arms around you. You feel his lips upon your neck, his hips never halting their abusive thrusts.

“But even if you are a bitch, you know I love it.”

“S-Shut up.” you whimper.

Jungkook doesn’t. Instead, he flips you onto your back so he can watch you while he fucks you.

“No.” Jungkook spits, continuing the same brutal pace. He has your knees touching your shoulders, the new position allowing him to fuck you even deeper than before. “You don’t like it when I'm nice to you. You want me to treat you like some whore.”

Your eyes are rolling now. There’s no way Jungkook could be fucking you entirely this good that you’re unable to form words.

“But you aren’t some whore to me, Y/N. You know you’re still my girl.” Jungkook places a kiss upon your cheek. “So I’ll treat you like a bitch in heat now, then I’ll cook for us, yeah?”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He leans back and places his thumb upon your clit. He begins to rub, determined to make you cum again.

You’re stuttering, jerking away from Jungkook, the overstimulation completely unbearable.

“Stop running, isn’t this what you wanted?”

So pretty, Jungkook thinks. You could be a bitch sometimes, but it’s what he likes about you. He enjoys the playful bickering he entertains and your feisty attitude. He enjoys it even more when he does entertain you in these little games you play just for you to lose at your own game - much like how you were now.

Jungkook’s thrusts are sloppy once you cum, a twitching mess beneath him. Your eyes are rolling and you’re no longer trying to hide your moans.

Jungkook presses his lips against yours, grunting into it while he gives one last thrust. His cum shoots inside of you, coating your warm walls.

It takes a few minutes for Jungkook to lay beside you. He feels just as tired as you must’ve felt earlier, panting low to himself.

“You still hungry?”

Your eyelids are fluttering closed, suddenly heavy. “Sleepy.” you murmur, laying your head against Jungkook's chest.

Jungkook wraps an arm around you. “You’re also so cuddly after a good fucking.” he teases.

“Fuck you.”

“I will after our nap.” Jungkook laughs. “We have all day for me to turn you into my little twinkie-”

Your body heats up and you slap Jungkook’s chest, but once again, all he does is laugh.

Series Masterlist

#bts smut #bangtanwritershq #btsmasterlist2022 #btswritersclub #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #fake tweets #college au #bts college au #bangtanwriters net #btswriterscollective #ungodly hour #explicit-tae #bts fwb #jungkook friends with benefits #jimin friendnemies

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vivalabunbun · 5 months

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Into the Sky of Artificial Stars

Summary: Could a chest that lacks a heartbeat still learn how it would feel? Could the whir of a motor be enough of a substitute?

Word Count: 25k (I will not explain myself)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Slow burn (oh my), Slow fic (oh boy), SMUT(r18+), NSFW, Researcher!Reader, insomniac!Reader, Android!Alhaitham, Workaholic!Reader, soft!Alhaitham, Modern AU, Android AU, human x android dynamics, Heavy Angst, Fluff, Heavy adult themes, academic trauma, toxic family pressure, toxic academia themes, struggles of poverty and academic inequality, TW: Exploration of grief, death, and guilt, TW: Survivor's guilt and tragedy, exploration of humanity and morality, slight mentions of violence, service top!Alhaitham, test subject to lovers? slightly possessive!Alhaitham? body worship, touch starvation? cunnilingus, he falls hard like a fool, but what is there to catch a fool who tried to reach for an unobtainable star?

Authors Note: This has been in the drafts for a very long time. My first foray into sci-fi kinda? I did my best with jargon and everything, so please forgive any mistakes I've made in regard to the technical stuff. An exploration into an artificial star. Enjoy

Are you just your conscience?

All the collective thoughts, desires, and ideals that congregate in your mind and influence your every action. Do your thoughts define you?

Are those cognitive functions, formed through a mix of instinct, teachings, and life experiences, what differentiates a man from a featherless biped?

If so, then are algorithms, simulations, and data sets interchangeable with what creates cognitive functions? Theoretically, it gives a machine the ability to develop a conscience. It gives a machine the ability to be human.

Perhaps, a sterile lab won’t be the most fitting environment to form such a thing.

What if we clothe the machine, provide a roof over its head in a nice quiet house, and feed its mind with the mundane details of existence? Then, could technology bring a machine over the boundary of humanity?

To engineer a brain, a conscience, a life with bare mortal hands. As if to replicate the gods. To compete with the authority of gods through scientific progression, many warn about the possible repercussions.

However, if to give and take life is deemed sinful to be done by mortal hands, then what made those unseen gods any different?

Regardless, such philosophical ramblings won’t help you in finishing the half-written report in front of you.

Looking past the two years' worth of reports sent already, innumerable papers penned by you within the sleep-deprived confines of the Akademiya. With a doctorate framed proudly on bland walls, that should be proof of your ability to type up a simple conclusion, right?

The weighted taps against a backspace key argue otherwise. Frustration leaves your lips in the form of a sigh as you test out a new string of words. Could these few sentences even be comprehensive of the leap in scientific progress made by mankind?

The shapes of letters merge together, forming incomprehensible blotches of black pixels against the white backdrop. Quickly, your lids shut to offer your eyes some much-needed reprieve from the harsh light of the monitor.

It was quite naive of you to believe subjecting your weary eyes to the punishment of light mode would drive up productivity.

Your fingers remove themselves from the keyboard, perhaps your body’s stubborn protest against sitting at the desk for another minute. Maybe a coffee break is an order.

You shouldn’t be too harsh on yourself, there hasn’t been a precedent for an experiment like this. A collaboration between the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan, the first of its kind.

Perhaps the real marvel is how the weight of their combined egos hasn’t sunk this project into the depths of abandonment.

With a subtle squeak, your office chair rolls back granting you permission to stand up and stretch your weary limbs. Letting out a slight groan as signs of time made themselves known to your bones. The ramifications of your negligence.

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely stride toward the kitchen. As you make your way to the end of the long, empty hallway a silvery hue steals your attention.

Slightly obscured by the oak door frame to your home library stood the culmination of your years of overtime and long nights. A surge of anticipation places a slight weightlessness on your legs.

Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.

Structure much more nimble and organic than the gardemeks framework, with materials sourced from the finest suppliers. The most advanced software and artificial intelligence capabilities ever developed since the Akasha.

The first and only of his kind: The Android Alhaitham.

The said pinnacle of human ingenuity and knowledge is currently flipping through a paperback book as the sunlight illuminates his synthetic skin.

The bounce light made his silver locks glimmer. As your steps slowed to a stop, he took notice of your presence. A soft snap of pages closing resounds through the passive air as Alhaitham turns his focus to you.

Your gaze ran along the neat spines lining each shelf, a small stack of unsorted books still left by his feet, but this morning there were numerous identical piles littered all over the library.

He seems to not have any issues making progress on his assigned tasks, a great sign.

You note that his button-down was a different color today, a sign that he’s practicing switching to a new set of clothes regularly.

A sign of routine, developing habits, and showing his steady learning of human behavior.

The frustrations from an unfinished report fade into obscurity as the subject of your research continues to observe your form. How easy it is to forget the big picture when you stress over the small details.

With this gentle reminder, a soft curl tugs at the corners of your lips.

Alhaitham repositions his stance, turning his body to face you, you figure he must be anticipating another task from you. Since he seems to be mostly done with his previous one, why not assign a new one?

“Could you brew me a cup of coffee, Alhaitham?” As he processes your request, you inspect his teal eyes, catching the slight glow signaling that his response is ready.

“I could, but unfortunately the interval of opportunity has already passed.” His baritone voice articulates.

A subtle quirk made its debut on your brows as your eyes shifted toward a clock hanging up in the corner of the study, its ticking hands displaying the time: 5:15 p.m.

“Huh… you won’t grant me an extension?” You turn back to him.

“If you have a request then please state it between my working hours of 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., you’re always free to submit again tomorrow.”

He doesn’t budge. An android capable of autonomous training and self-study is different from those gardemeks who only function when given tasks. The ability to develop self-awareness, consciousness, and to think comes with its own caveats.

In Alhaitham’s case, his stubborn nature. Conceivably, he likely reviewed Sumeru’s labor laws and decided that he was entitled to such labor rights as well.

“I work overtime almost every day for your research and development, but you can’t spare me 15 minutes?” Your lips form a pout, but you already predicted his next output.

“Your poor work-life balance is not my responsibility.”

Your prediction was correct.

Another sigh leaves your lips, it’s just one of the trade-offs you must accept. After all, learning to be a human is the reason why he was created. A feat once thought to be unachievable. But he exists, and he’s developed quite a character.

To change the trajectory of this conversation you glance at the book held within his hold.

“Frankenstein by Mary Shelly?” You read the title aloud.

“Yes, the 1831 edition, it’s quite the story.” Alhaitham opens the covers once more.

“Mm, maybe I should be more cautious of what information you come across.” A subtle grin tugging at the corners of your lips as his teal eyes land back on you.

“It’d be a bit of an issue if you were to turn against me from the wrong influences.” Resting your body against the oak doorway as you observe the android process your jest.

“There are safety restrictions already in place to prevent such occurrences, the possibility is near zero. However, if you are still concerned then feel free to upload a list of banned materials for the next version update.”

A huff of a chuckle escapes you as you shift more of your weight against the wooden frame.

“Of course, of course, just remember to place your books back where you found them.” Pushing off the doorway, you allow Alhaitham to continue his unsupervised learning as you amble closer to the kitchen.

The soft clinking of cups and spoons chime through the evening air as you scoop a few ounces of ground coffee into the brewer.

As the water slowly brings itself to a low rumble, you occupy your wait staring out the glass and at the setting sun. The flaming scarlet hues and warmth blend into mellow indigo as the night begins to reveal her stars.

Dusk, when the line between day and night blurs to an indistinguishable mess. Would a singularity also look as luminous as the setting sun? The answer might be closer than ever before.

The reaction to the announcement of an android development project was at first astonishment, that human knowledge had progressed this far. And the secondary reaction that followed like ripples was fear. Fear that humans will soon be replaced by beings of silicon and steel.

That a singularity would signal the end of humanity.

Well, this was always the common reaction to disruptive change. Many cases of public pushback and hysteria against innovations you can reference throughout history. The human reaction to the unknown.

They always gossip and fearmonger about an android domination of all of Teyvat. But have those people ever stopped to consider that the android could simply be too lazy to have such ambitions?

Instead of becoming cruel overlords, they’d rather leave books strewn about as they dock themselves into their charging port.

To learn to be human means to learn human slothfulness too, no? Or maybe Alhaitham’s algorithm just decided to train himself to incorporate it. What a peculiar enigma he is, this android currently residing in your house.

Your thoughts circle back to a certain novel you haven’t touched in years. A work of science fiction written by a genius author barely over the cusp of adulthood.

You wonder how she would’ve described this impending singularity.

A distant toll rang from the depths of a dreamless void, each chime reaching closer and closer until the bright tune devolved into jarring blares. Piercing enough to set your heavy lids into motion.

Just as they peeked open, they flinched back shut from a stray ray that snuck between the gaps of your curtains.

Your leaden body groans at the brightness of the room, the luminosity much greater than when you had originally settled under the covers. Yet, even with your groggy complaints the alarm resting on the nightstand offered no mercy, continuously bellowing its monotone pitch.

With a sharp slap, your world returns to its silence.

Angling the alarm towards you as you creak open one eye, the blurry red pixels slowly merge together to display the time.

Didn’t you have a meeting scheduled for today?

Another groan follows your dreadful discovery and you roll back under the plush blanket. Not much different from a child trying to protect themselves from the grasp of a fictitious monster.

Soft comforters block the morning glow contained behind thick curtains, yet your permission to access a blank serenity was denied. It seems that your quota for sleep has been fulfilled.

Barring you from any excess repose, not that you expected anything less. A monster that torments a young mind might be fictitious, but the realities of capitalistic responsibilities unfortunately aren’t.

Taking in a deep inhale, you prep your body for the next set of dreaded actions with its drowsy limbs. Before it had the chance to protest, you kicked the covers off, ripping away the warm security from your skin.

Ambling down the hall you gradually made your way into the kitchen, there under the morning light sat a steadfast figure whose eyes never left the book in front of him.

“Good Morning.” You initiate the first conversation of the day.

“Congratulations.”

You pause, hand in the midst of rubbing away the tiredness of your eyes. Staring perplexingly at his sudden praise. Alhaitham’s focus remains on his novel even as he answers your unasked question.

“You’ve beat your previous record of how many alarms it takes to get you out of bed, I believe it went off five times this morning.”

A few beats of uninterrupted silence follow the aftermath of his response. A chain broken by a deep sigh which leaves your body.

“It’s far too early for this, Alhaitham.” Your hand goes back into motion, this time attempting to rub away frustration.

“Spare me your sarcasm until after you’ve made me breakfast and a cup of coffee.”

From the glance you took at your clock from earlier, it’s currently well into his operational hours.

“Understood.” Setting the book down, his tall frame makes its way into the kitchen.

Settling down at the lacquered table, your seat grants you a clear view of your android collecting some eggs from the refrigerator. Even as the hands of fatigue beckon your lashes to flutter shut, you refuse to indulge in such luxuries.

You had to watch just in case he decided his book couldn’t wait.

A series of trials and errors already well documented in those weekly reports back to the Akademiya and Institution. A human in training is bound to have some mishaps occur, or more accurately, this android might have different priorities.

One notable case was the time you asked Alhaitham to clean the floors while you attended a conference call. Only to step into puddles of soapy water the moment you leave your office door.

Connecting eyes with teal as he stood in the middle of it all mop in hand. For the time being, you’ve barred him from such tasks.

Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a mess just as an excuse to sit back on the couch with a book. This fickle android of yours. Your third sigh of the day.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The tranquil afternoon interlude that enveloped the house was interrupted by a sharp chime. Glancing at the numbers displayed on the corner of your screen, it looks like it’s right on schedule.

You had just concluded your monthly conference call, it’d be good to stretch your legs a bit after sitting through a few hours of professional formalities.

Leaving your home office to journey toward the front door, you spot Alhaitham’s frame by the entranceway. His head turns to acknowledge your presence. Passing him to make your way to the front door, you hear him shift closer.

Soon the brilliance of a star pours into the entranceway, illuminating the hall as the door opens.

“Good afternoon, grocery delivery?” The young man on the steps greets, a strain in his polite tone as bags weigh down on his arms.

“Yes, there was a last-minute addition of henna berries, were you able to get those?”

“Yep, they’re in one of these bags.”

“Thank you, sorry for the trouble, I’ll take it from here.” You cast a glance over your shoulders back at a tall form standing idly.

“Please come help with the groceries.”

“Understood.” It took only a few strides for the burden weighing down on the delivery boy, effortlessly hanging them all on his engineered arms without a hint of strain.

“Careful, they’re heavy, mister-” The warning dies at the tip of the young man’s tongue as his wide eye reflects the artificial glow of teal irises.

It’s best to end this trial now, to prevent a commotion or disturbing the delivery boy who isn’t paid enough to be frightened. You could see it in the slight tremble of his agape mouth as his brain processed the thing in front of him.

“Thank you again, please don’t mind him, have a great day.” Before you could hear his response, the door was shut.

A bit rude according to societal norms, but you’re sure a generous gratuity bonus paid on top of the delivery fee is enough to stifle any disgruntlement. Considering his reaction, it looks like your hypothesis remains correct.

The people of Teyvat still need more time to adjust to the existence of androids. Just because science progresses, it doesn’t mean human acknowledgment moves at the same rate.

Turning away from the door, a pair of glass irises connect with yours, a sheen of expectancy just under the brilliant teal hue. Alhaitham stands there with the bags still hanging from his arms.

“If you already know what I’m about to assign you, then you should just take the initiative, Alhaitham.” You huff.

“It’s not a bad habit to wait for any specific instructions.” Came his baritone rebuttal.

“Just take those to the kitchen.”

“Understood.” He pivots away, taking slow steps toward the kitchen.

“Ah, sort them into the fridge and cupboards too, do not just dump them on the counter.” You warn, learning from your previous mistakes.

Seriously, Alhaitham has long evolved past needing step-by-step detailed prompts, thus you suspect it's merely an act of his.

You’ve watched his character develop, his habits form, and his routine take shape. Just where did he learn such behavior? This strange android of yours.

You watch as he carries the numerous bags without a hint of strain. Alhaitham was much better suited for carrying your week’s worth of rations from the market. Unfortunately, he is proprietary technology.

Clearance to allow an android out into the world hasn’t been granted yet.

Not that you were eager to receive it. The logistics of such an event are a nightmare to plan. The protocols needed in emergencies to ensure the safety of civilians and the millions of mora poured into his creation.

There’s always a nonzero chance his system gets overloaded from trying to analyze every blurred face in a crowd. A nonzero chance that he would simply wander beyond the merchants and their fruit stalls. A nonzero chance that the gem implanted between his collarbones could spark curiosity.

Those same curious eyes could catch onto the artificial glow of teal irises, morphing curiosity into terror.

Even in Fontaine where it was more common for machines to walk among crowds, they were always designed to look like machines. Their clockwork pieces are obvious and distinguishable, a design choice to bring comfort to the mortal psyche.

An easy way for a human to differentiate a person and a thing. If that line becomes blurred, then…

With a deep sigh, you reel your thoughts back from their philosophical journey. Regardless, it’d be a problem for the future to handle.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Soft clacks resound from the keyboard as a new string of words appears on your screen, documenting the events of the day on your laptop as you sit on your sofa.

The soft cushions are a welcomed change from a stiff office chair. Just over the top of your screen, Alhaitham sat across from an adjacent couch. Methodically folding a basket of laundry and sorting them into piles.

An easy enough task for him, but as you watch you make sure to note down the improvements in his motor skills and dexterity. Movements organic and fluid, much like those of a human.

It truly is astonishing just how far technology has progressed, from clockwork pieces and clunky steps to the specimen sitting just a few steps away.

A tall and sturdy frame, well-portioned face with handsome teal irises, and synthetic starlight hair. Features created from the finest equipment and materials, a truly magnificent piece of scientific progress.

Amid your appreciation for his structure, Alhaitham halts all motion, setting down the towel back into the basket. Resulting in your eyebrows creasing together.

“What’s wrong Alhaitham? Did you forget how to fold a towel?”

Alhaitham did not attempt to entertain your jest, so much so, that he simply stared past you. Teal eyes honing in on an object just beyond you, never breaking focus to discern the bewilderment on your face.

Finally relenting, you follow his stare toward a clock, reading the time: 5:00 p.m.

“Seriously? You haven’t finished folding the laundry yet,” you remark in utter exasperation.

The teal glow of his eyes shows that he’s received your remark, yet he doesn’t make an effort to return a verbal response. He chooses instead to simply continue staring at the time as his hands wait by his side in opposition.

Him staring at a clock, you staring at him, a one-sided showdown.

A naughty cat prancing about a countertop where it shouldn’t be could simply be picked up and removed.

A disobedient dog dirtying the couch with its muddy paws could be lured off with the sight of a treat.

But an android? What are you going to do to an android whom you had to tilt your head up to make eye contact with?

This wasn’t a hill you’re willing to die on, thus with a dismissive wave of your hand, you concede. Allowing Alhaitham to do as he pleases, which he graciously does. His form leaves the couch, heading in the predictable direction of the library as a deep sigh leaves you.

This stubborn android of yours, you made sure to document this on today’s report. Just as how it was yesterday, and the day before, and even the day before that.

Hopefully, in the event of an actual android apocalypse, he might show you the same leniency. You couldn’t help but scoff at your ridiculous musings. A machine with nothing but a motor and battery in his chest, would he understand leniency even if you were to code it into him?

Soon his frame comes back into view, a pile of books clutched within his hold, just as you predicted. Shamelessly, he sits in the middle of his unfinished chores while leisurely scanning the pages in front of him.

This fickle, strange, and stubborn android follows the rhythm of his own motor regardless of what protocols you instill.

Yet, as you watch his fingers flip through the worn book and take up space on your couch, a smile develops on your features. A soft curl of your lips, easily obscured by the screen of your laptop.

A fickle, strange, and stubborn android is not too different from a person, one who had a heartbeat.

An android who takes up space on your couch and house, making it a bit less empty than previously. That was good enough.

What made man? Intellect? Innovation? Language?

This was the dilemma assigned to him since the very first time his system powered up in that facility, welcomed into this world by glaring fluorescent lights and the numerous stares of figures in white coats.

A dilemma that follows him even to his current place on a spacious couch.

According to sources pulled from the Akasha and cross-references from numerous printed materials made available to him, many throughout history have been pondering this same conundrum. A philosopher once defined man as featherless bipeds.

However, wouldn’t this make a plucked chicken a man too? A definition so ambiguous a mere student proved the teacher wrong.

Then, is man defined by their flesh? Having skin and bones instead of silicon parts and metal components? To have blood pumped by a heart instead of operating off a battery and motor? Was it biology that defined man?

But if that was the simple truth, then why was Frankenstein’s creation addressed as nothing more than a monster?

From his arms to his legs to his mind, everything which made up that creature was human. He had blood, he had flesh, he had bones. So why was he chased away by flaming torches and pitchforks as a mob screamed ‘monster’? Why was a creature made from human flesh not human?

His train of thought halts as a familiar set of steps patter against the floor. Automatically, his sights hone in at the corner of a wall even before your face reveals itself from behind it.

Teal-colored eyes refocus to catch the subtle perk of your eyebrows and widened eyes. An expression of surprise he analyzes, his immediate focus must have caught you off guard.

Did you have some other test outlined for him? Did you need to collect more data from earlier today? Another household task perhaps?

How unfortunate, the hour on the clock read half past 8 p.m. Have you not learned from your tardiness the week prior?

“If you have a request, then please wait until 9 a.m. tomorrow when I’m within my business hours.”

Even with the wall partially obscuring your form, the restrained giggle through lips fighting back a grin was picked up by his audio system.

“No, no, there’s no more tasks for today.”

As your gaze centers on him, he takes note of the refractions of fluorescent lights along your irises.

“Then is there something you’d like to discuss?” He prompts.

“Mm… no, not right now.”

His stone-faced stare was enough of a response, judging by the smile spreading across your features.

“I just felt like checking up on you, after all, you are the most proprietary piece of technology at the moment.”

At times like these, Alhaitham felt that the audio cue of a sigh was the most effective communication out of all the languages created by man. Muffed chuckles accompany it.

“I’ll leave you be then.”

The floorboards trill under your steps as you amble towards the kitchen. Alhaitham returns to the last few pages still left open on his lap.

Small tinkering from beyond the living room serves as an ambient tune. The swift opening and closing of a refrigerator door. A harsh pull on a microwave door is contrasted by the bright beeps of buttons, leading to a low hum.

He hypothesizes there to be some leftovers spinning around.

After the microwave sang its concluding chimes, the clatter of a plate follows a firm tug. A drawer rattles open, metal clinking against metal as you sift around for the right utensil. The drawer rattles again as it closes.

Rhythmic footsteps take center stage as they trail back down an empty hall, Alhaitham waits to hear the resounding click of a door returning to its frame. Just as the final echo of the click sounds out through the air he places the finished novel on the coffee table.

Leaving the comfort of the cushions, he makes his way to the kitchen to access the aftermath. A microwave door left wide open, a drawer only halfway closed, and of course another dirty coffee mug in the sink.

Returning the microwave and drawer to their rightful states, his teal eyes count the pile of cups sitting since this morning. A collection that grew throughout the day.

Alhaitham looks up in the direction of your office. A soft glow leaked out from under the gap of the door, bleeding light into the dim hall. His systems identify the audible taps of a keyboard and the occasional shift of an office chair. He deduces that you were working overtime again.

He found it a bit ironic at times. A body of mechanical components has no qualms about lounging on a sofa. But you, a creature of flesh and blood, refuse to submit to the allure of rest. Although, Alhaitham wouldn’t find it too implausible that coffee ran through those veins of yours instead.

Repetitive clacks of keys and mouse clicks play a melody he had heard ever since the first day he opened his eyes.

A tune that accompanies the rhythm of his steps and motions when he goes about his tasks as you document them.

A lullaby that plays after his routine tasks as he heads back to his charging port when you log a daily report.

An accompaniment to the silent moon and her stars as you stay up at a desk.

Needing to reach the next exit criteria. Needing to collect the next set of data. Needing to submit the next report.

Would it be because a body of flesh has agency? With cells in a losing race against time, was there something you wanted to attain within your mortal hands from this research before the race ended?

Or did you just want to fill the vacant lull of this house with those little taps of a keyboard?

Regardless, it’s not within his capacity to disturb your work. Thus all he could do was roll up his sleeves, turn on the running water, and pick up a sponge. Scrubbing the cups with warm soapy water, imitating the motions you’ve shown him before, until the dried stains vanish.

If it’s not featherlessness, if it’s not bipedalism, and if it’s not flesh… then could it just be agency that made him different from you?

Maybe he’ll ask you another day, placing the cups into the dish rack.

Sorting and organizational tasks are his strong suit, in other words, he’s very good at completing easy jobs. Leaving the more… tedious chores to you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rest on the handle of the broom. The hallway between your office and the bedrooms is the last section that needs to be swept.

Alhaitham was likely back in his place on the couch, book in hand as he lounged around. Weren’t androids created in hopes of making life easier?

So much for that, you internally huffed, repositioning your grip on the broom. A soft but bright clink catches your attention. Glancing down, you quickly discover the source. A ring wrapped around your finger.

Kept on your finger for so long, it’s become almost an extension of yourself, this keepsake piece of jewelry.

Abandoning the broom against a wall, your other hand fiddles with the gold band. A frown forms upon your lips when a faint scratch shows itself on the gold surface

Gingerly, you remove the ring, pinching it between your fingers as you hold it up to the light, examining the damage closer. The shine of its once-polished surface was dulled by trivial scuffs and dents, damaged by the signs of time.

Regrettably, it seems you’ve been neglecting it as well.

So much so, that the ring felt compelled to remove itself from your grasp in protest. Slipping out of your tender hold, which propels you into motion, graceless attempts at catching the small piece of jewelry to no avail.

It soon collides with the wooden floor as a chime rings out, still, gravity didn’t buy you enough time to catch the evasive gem. For it then decides to run under the gap of a door, disappearing from your sight. Leaving you there in defeat.

Taking a deep inhale, holding it for a few seconds, you release the air in your lungs. Returning your gaze up from the wood grain, you stare at the obstacle in front of you: a mere door.

Its brass knob gleams as if to taunt you, daring you to open it, to face what lay beyond. Slowly, you release your clenched fingers, setting your hand back into motion. You’re far too grown to be scared of a room in your own home, especially when you know what is behind it.

Its hinges ring out in surprise, it’s been a while since they were opened. The daunting door opens up to reveal a lackluster collection of old furniture, picture frames, and various other assortment of items.

Their forms all covered by plain sheets thrown over them, silhouettes, outlined like ghost. A slight tickle appears in your nose from the layers of dust you disturbed.

A poor, unfortunate room you’ve designated as storage, where items go to be neglected. You were busy enough with work as it is.

To avoid seeing the reminders of responsibilities you’ve been pushing off, you’d rather throw them behind a door. Out of your sight, out of your mind.

The sooner you find that ring, the sooner you can turn a blind eye to the various items you’ve long abandoned yet refused to let go of. Amongst the dull dust and sheets, it wasn’t very hard to spot the golden glimmer from peaking through.

Trudging towards the mischievous ring, you kneel to finally catch it within your hand. Such a troublesome thing, you chide as you stand back up. Bracing your other hand on the nearest sheet-covered surface, only for it to come into contact with an odd object.

Startled, you instinctively hold onto both the ring and the odd object as you jolt back up. Glancing down at your hands, your eyes finally identify the object.

A collection of tiny planets and stars dangling from thin strings glimmered with the soft light creeping in from the afternoon sun. A soft smile made its way to your lips.

How silly it was that a toy made to entertain young infants had you so enraptured. You bought it on a whim, then tossed it into the depths of a dust-covered room. And yet it’s now back in your hands. Perhaps the beckoning of the stars still calls for you.

A part of you wonders if it was your fascination with the night sky that caused sleep to evade you. Sitting up on a mattress well past bedtime to gaze out to the vast ocean of dazzling and blinking lights that dotted against a navy backdrop. While the pristine radiance of the moon reflected off your irises.

Or did your fascination develop because it was always the moon and her stars that silently accompanied your long nights?

Gentle lights who lent you their well wishes and encouragement as you anguished through assignments and exams.

What an honor it was for you to be able to witness her beauty so often. It was a pity that some, who disregarded her grace in favor of dreams, weren’t able to experience the brilliance of a starry night.

Maybe your parents fell in the category of the majority. Maybe that’s why they couldn’t even fathom such a thing.

A past conversation over an old wooden table started in your mind before you could muster the strength to push it back.

–----

“C’mon, eat, eat.” Your mother places a hearty serving of Biryani in front of you.

The old kitchen table groaned under the weight of the spread of dishes on its surface. To call it anything short of a feast would be a lie. The walls of the modest home are filled with a variety of rich aromas and spices.

“You have to eat to study harder, don’t think just because you made it into the Akademiya you can take it easy now.” Your father remarked.

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.” You picked up your fork.

Letting out a chuckle, he pats your back as a rare smile graced his stern face. Your mother’s face mirrored the same radiance, the beaming glow of pride. For you, their daughter, their only child, and only hope had been accepted into the Akademiya.

The most prestigious university of all of Sumeru and Teyvat, with millions competing for those few spots each and every year. Only the best of the best, only those who outshone the rest, and only those gifted and blessed would ever be admitted.

Yet, you were sent a letter from the oh-so-grand institution.

A child from a town far away in the shadows of the grand Akademiya was accepted.

What were the odds of that? For a child whose own parents never got the opportunity for higher education to become the first to go off to university? The cause of this celebratory feast.

The warm Spring breeze contributed to the sweetness of this small moment in time, as plates were passed and glasses clanked.

All those scattered notes, cramped hands, and revisions have rewarded you with the golden brilliance of sunrise after endlessly long nights.

A smile crept up the corners of your lips. A light has finally appeared to illuminate this trending path you’ve climbed.

Your father washed down his previous bite with a sip from his cup, placing it down before he began his next question:

“Have you decided on which Darshan to go into?”

The sweet breeze turns into a chill down your spine as your fork halts its motion. The dilemma you have been dreading has finally arrived at the kitchen table.

You had to memorize every mathematical formula. You had to pinpoint every detail in a historical timeline. You had to know every syntax of a sentence. You had to understand the molecular structures of life.

A child had to learn everything, and now they had to pick something to learn. How would the child know? The child only knew how to study.

“Amurta? Spantamad? Oh, what about Kshahrewar? I heard that it was also good.” Your mother chimed in.

“Amurta?” Your father scoffed a bit.

“Dear, as if this tuition isn’t expensive enough, think of how much med school will cost.”

“Oh I know, I know, but you know how well doctors get paid! I heard those labs also give a decent salary.” Your mother reasons.

“Ah, but it takes too long. Engineering isn’t half bad either, there’s been a demand for more engineers recently.” Your father takes another sip of his drink.

“Oh, but it’s not up to us,” she turned to face you.

“It’s up for our little scholar now isn’t it?”

A paradoxical question, because your options were already decided for you from the very start.

Carefully selected paths were already laid out before you as your parents watched on with expecting eyes, waiting for your foot to take a step on the path they wanted most.

Poking at a stray grain of rice on your plate, you gather up the scattered pieces of courage. You were a child who only knew how to study, yet, a child is still susceptible to dreams, no?

“I have thought about it.” You began.

“And?” Your mother couldn’t help but nudge you to continue.

“I was thinking about Rtawahist,” you confessed.

It was as if even the sweet Spring air wanted to escape the now-still walls, leaving dread to fill the void it had left. No dishes were passed, no utensils rattled, and no cups clinked. Just bewildered stares you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“Rtawahist? As in the school that looks at the sky?” Your father’s face had returned to its stern default.

“Astronomy? Yes, that’s the Darshan that studies Astronomy.” Your eyes didn’t dare leave your plate.

Among the options selected by them from their perceptions of future opportunities and prestige for you. You dare interject with one of your own.

A deep sigh sealed your fate.

“Astronomy? You want to study Astronomy? And get what job?”

The pierce from your father’s harsh tone made you flinch, even though you expected it.

“You can look at the stars for free, why would I pay to send you to school to study something so useless?”

“There are jobs for Astronomy.” You reasoned.

“Like what?” His finger drummed against the wood.

“Like-”

You made the mistake of looking up from your plate, the fragile wisps of courage dissipated like smoke the moment you did. All the arguments and rebuttals you had prepared vanished along with it. The frown that pulled down your father’s face and the scrunched brow concern of your mother’s were enough to snuff out your pitiful rebellion.

“Go on.” He challenged.

“...”

“That’s what I thought.” Your father snatched up his cup.

Your focus retreated back to your plate, recentering on the grains of rice you pushed around with the ends of a fork. A motion that continued until another hand stopped yours.

“Little one…” Your mother began.

Her thumb traced over your fidgeting hand, a touch which comforted yet scorned you all at once.

“You know that lady who lived down the street? Her son got a career working with computers and now they live in a big house, doesn’t that sound nice?”

You hummed.

“Kshahrewar isn’t so bad, right? Just a few years and then you can get a good job.”

Yes, she had spelled out the purpose of your studies like red-inked corrections on a test. It was how it always was, why did you think it would change now?

Having to prove you deserved the food on the plate in front of you.

Having to bring home top grades to prove all those books and materials were worth it.

Having to get a job that could break this cycle your parents were trapped in. How else would you be able to pay them back?

It was their mora, earned from long hours and labor, that fed you, clothed you, and sheltered you. They made your world with their calloused hands. It was their justification to command it as well. You were their only child, their only investment.

This was the dilemma imposed upon you.

–----

Your fingers clench around the childish imitation of the night sky, running the plastic surfaces under your mindless touch. Thoughts still light years away in the recesses of your memories.

How silly, for someone who loved the planet and the stars so much how did you forget that one fascinating detail? Planets orbit a sun because of gravity.

It was the force of a greater mass that commanded the lesser, it was what kept a planet going round and round within its grasp. It was the gravity of the sun that gave a planet a direction, a path to follow, a purpose even.

Perhaps it’s because the sun knew what was best for its little planet.

It was the diplomas framed nicely on a wall that granted you a secure job, it was your cushy job that permitted you to purchase this cushy home.

Your parents planned this out long ago, thus you merely just followed.

However, when the sun disappears, when the central mass that gave a small planet a purpose disappears, what would the little planet do?

Drifting endlessly in a vacuum of nothingness, with no direction, no path, no light. No day or night and an endless Winter, would it be as if the world stopped spinning.

That little planet would be no different than a cold lump of rock in a vast emptiness.

A sharp creak pierces through the tormentful quietude, a chirr that reels your thoughts back to a dusty room. Head instinctively following the direction of the noise, you fixate on the doorway.

Catching the diffused afternoon sun glimmering in silver locks reminiscent of starlight.

Alhaitham stands silently at the threshold of the door, its frame perfectly centering him as his teal eyes analyze you. Not a single engineered limb crossed the boundary of the dusty room. Just as it was defined in a set of restrictions implemented into his system by you.

As evidenced by his unintentional disregard for his environment, the floorboards bearing witness to his careless execution of chores, you restricted him from this decrepit room.

Although all it contains is a chaotic collection of trinkets and keepsakes, the dust-coating provides them with a blanket of security. You saw no reason to change it.

A telling teal glow blinks momentarily before Alhaitham breaks the lull.

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?”

It was just now that you noticed the wet trails rolling down your cheeks. Wiping away the cooling dampness on your skin, you confirmed the presence of tears. Your senses took their time returning from their escapade.

Alhaitham remains in his spot, patiently awaiting your next response. How embarrassing it is, to be seen in such a state by a being who could shed no tears. Quickly, you wipe away the trails on your other cheek.

“I’m fine, just lost in thought for a moment.” Swiftly you place the toy down.

A smooth weight encased in the palm of your hand reminds you of the ring, the item that lured you into this dusty room.

Perhaps it should be best to have let it remain undisturbed on your finger. It’s a common wives’ tale that keepsakes ward off bad omens.

“Is that truly all?” He made a no move, his eyes rescanning the environment as if unconvinced by your answer.

You wonder if it’s because of some protocol or conditional in his software. Safety measures set in place during this test of whether an artificial being could live in harmony with mortals.

However, as you gaze upon your magnum opus the specifics of programming and software fade into irrelevancy. Trailing your eyes up from his teal irises to his starlight silver trusses that glimmered in the soft light, revealing a hint of mint. It took you a while to find that exact shade during his manufacturing stage.

There’s always a chance that a drifting planet could be caught in the orbital pull of another. Whether it be man-made or not didn’t matter.

As long as it was of a significant mass its gravity should be enough to pull a lonely planet from its aimless wanderings. It can set the stray planet into a new orbit, giving it a new path.

A small lump of rock could find a new star to center around.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.”

You will be fine. Slowly, and with one step after another, you will be fine one day.

The typical 24-hour day for a working adult can be broken down into a set schedule. Waking up at around 8 a.m. to wash one’s face and brush their teeth as they make themselves presentable for work. Followed by a light breakfast or a cup of coffee before.

Some then start their commute to work or jump onto their desktop to clock in around 9 a.m. to begin their work. In the middle of their shift, usually around noon, they are granted a one-hour lunch break, after that they work until 5 p.m. when they finish their work.

Coming back home to enjoy dinner around 7 p.m. followed by an hour or two of leisure before a bedtime routine begins. Washing the day's influences off oneself, brushing their teeth, and changing into comfortable attire.

If they want to get a restful 8 hours of sleep they cannot go to bed any later than 10:45 p.m. to account for the 15-minute downtime to allow the body to enter the sleeping state.

This cycle then resets and repeats just as the sky cycles through the sun and moon. A typical and average reality for most adults in Sumeru. Well, from the data he pulled from the Akasha, this was the typical day for the average working civilian.

It just so happens that you’re a stray data point skewing the graph.

If he were to estimate your bedtimes from the activity of your desktop and laptop, it would be a chaotic set of timestamps ranging from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m., sometimes the activity on your devices never ceased. An indication of what is referred to as an ‘all-nighter’.

Behavior that might be acceptable for those attending the Akademiya, but certainly not for a working adult.

At this moment, Alhaitham stood in the hall just a few steps away from your bedroom door. His frame remained motionless to avoid disturbing the floorboards beneath him.

Taking into account your device’s activities, Alhaitham estimates your bedtime was 4: 45 a.m. this morning. Given how your alarm is set to around 8 a.m., amounting to about 3 hours of sleep.

Not even half of the recommended time by Sumeru’s health administration.

By all means, Alhaitham finds it confounding how you’re still able to perform so efficiently at your job, managing both the Insitute and Akademiya while operating on a few morsels of sleep.

He wonders if that was the reason why you were selected as the personnel who’s facilitating his learning.

Perhaps, they hoped he’d emulate your work ethic and efficiency. How unfortunate, his self-learning pivoted him away from such conduct.

As he stands observing the woodgrain of your door, Alhaitham finds himself at a crossroads. It’s not within his capacity to interfere, conditionals coded into his software to prevent him from disrupting your privacy.

Laws mandating the privacy of employees and civilians alike.

Simultaneously, there are protocols instilled in him that instruct him to prevent harm from befalling you.

A contradiction. Something that would cause a regular system to return an error as it fails to satisfy one conditional while trying to work within the bounds of another.

Chronic sleep loss results in an increased risk of heart attacks, strokes, and hypertension.

Long-term sleep loss also results in impaired memory and concentration, although it’s not affecting your productivity now, it doesn’t mean it won’t decline soon.

These statistics were all provided by Sumeru’s health administration.

The effects on the brain are quite severe as well, with increased feelings of stress, anxiety, and depression.

A quiet afternoon scene replays, in a dust-covered room, where he found you staring off at nothing as silent rivulets rolled down your cheeks.

That memory stored within his RAM was enough for Alhaitham to come to his conclusion.

Alhaitham must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

To allow you to continue your destructive routine which is proving to be detrimental to your health would be inadvertently allowing harm to befall you. Thus, he decides one conditional must override another.

Careful to prevent the hinges of your bedroom door from trilling, Alhaitham enters. Analyzing the shape outlined by messy layers of blankets draped over your figure, you must still be in the depths of slumber.

There are about 15 minutes before your first alarm is set to go off, since your commute was a simple walk to your home office, you had the flexibility to sleep through a few grating beeps.

This habit could use a few improvements. He turns his focus to the thick curtains hiding the room away from the greetings of a morning star.

Sunlight sends a signal to the pituitary gland, calling to suppress melatonin production and increase cortisol production and serotonin.

A natural cue for your body to start, to allow the bright rays to touch your skin would also be good for vitamin production too.

With a simple tug, the thick drapes were pulled away, granting the rays of the sun to enter and illuminate the still room.

Your body instinctively retreats deeper under the covers, a clear sign that the light is doing its job. He’ll leave the rest up to the alarm impatiently waiting to belt out its chorus of pitches. Just like the shadows slipping away, he exits just as quietly.

It took only two alarms to get you out of bed and ambling down the hall toward the kitchen. A 60% decrease from when the curtains were shut, however, more trials are needed to conclusively establish a pattern.

His teal gaze follows you as you approach the kitchen. Hands rubbing at your eyes.

“Why is it so bright?” Your words were groggy.

“It’s morning,” he answers.

An unamused glare replaces the fatigue in your expression, Alhaitham deems his response satisfactory.

After a deep sigh, you shut your eyes again, still trying to adjust to the brightness surrounding you, hands returning to rub at your eyelids.

Excessive rubbing of the eyes isn’t good for them, he notes. However, before he could address it another prompt from you took priority.

“Did I leave my curtains open last night?” You asked yourself.

“Coffee?” He interjects.

Glancing back up at him, you paused for a moment as your groggy mind remembered why you traversed to the kitchen in the first place, diverting your attention away from mysteriously moving drapes.

“Yes, please make me a cup, Alhaitham.”

“Understood.”

The android turns toward the marble countertop, preparing the coffee grounds into the machine as you sit at your place at the table.

One day isn’t enough to correct a bad habit, but over time, bit by bit, your schedule will fall into a new rhythm.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The cheerful doorbell ring interrupts Alhaitham amidst reorganizing the books on a shelf. Right on schedule.

From just down the hall he hears the knob of your office door turn as it opens, followed by a few cautious steps as you venture closer to the front door. As you pass the doorway of the library, Alhaitham observes the furrow between your brow on your perplexed face.

“Is there someone at the door?” You turn to him.

Another ring followed by a few gentle knocks answers your question for him as your head snaps back into the direction of the noise. Crime in this suburban neighborhood is very low, but he does understand why you’d want to be careful.

Perhaps, he should accompany you to ease your nerves over the sudden ring from the door.

With an android just behind you, you had finally mustered up the courage to answer the daunting door under his teal supervision.

“Hello, delivery from Lambad’s Tavern, paid online.”

“Huh?-”

“One order of Minty Bean Soup, one order of butter chicken, and one rose custard?” The delivery man interrupts your confusion as he lists off your entrees.

“Yes…” you reply as you cast a glance back at an idle android.

The entrees listed were all dishes you asked him to make you for lunch a few hours earlier. Judging by the suspicion upon your furrowed brows, he could tell that you noticed as well. However, with a delivery man holding out the takeout bag on the front steps. It’d be rude to just have him remain there, no?

“Enjoy your meal!” He announces as he hands over the bag into your arms.

“Yes, thank you.” You close the door, spinning around almost instantly to confront the android with the bag still in hand.

“Did you order this?”

“Yes.”

“Again? I asked you to make food, not order it,” you tsk.

“I did it to optimize my time.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“All you have to do is heat up the frozen meals.”

“Then according to protocol, I’d have to stay in the kitchen to watch over the oven and stove, not to mention the dishes I’d have to wash afterward. So ordering takeout would save time as well as not prevent me from my task of organizing-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” You concede with a sigh.

Taking a few steps past him towards the direction of the kitchen before you pause midstep to turn back to him.

“Do not use your funds to order weird things off the internet.” You warn before promptly continuing on your way to have your late lunch.

“Understood.”

Just as he suspected, there isn’t a problem that can’t be helped with a bit of mora. If Alhaitham were to follow your request as you instructed, he knew that the reheated meal would turn cold as it sits abandoned on the kitchen table.

Even when he informs you of his task’s completion, you’d push back your lunchtime until you needed another dose of caffeine.

However, a simple ring of a doorbell could do what he can’t. Drawing your attention and body away from the confines of your desk. An efficient reminder to have your meals at a regular time if he says so himself.

Besides, fresh ingredients are better than frozen meals in terms of nutrients.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The sun had long retreated into a navy blanket of the night, allowing the moon to take its place in the sky. Serene beauty watching over the nighttime bustle of Sumeru city slowly peters out, and many return to their homes at the beck and call of slumber.

Alhaitham settled himself upon his spot on the couch, a lamp just off to the side illuminating the pages of his book softly. The quiet lull of the living room periodically broken by the crisp turn of a page.

The typical rhythm that resonates through the house around this hour. His acute senses pick up a frustrated pair of steps pattering closer.

Ah, yes a new accompaniment has jumped this evening's tempo.

“Is the router having issues again?” You groan as your frame appears from around the corner.

Casting a halfhearted glance off to where said device sat on a side table, his teal eyes return to his book.

“The light shows that it’s online.”

“Then why is it taking forever to upload a simple file? It’s been five minutes and it’s not even halfway done.” You took quick strides past his idle frame.

Crouching down to be at eye level with the device in question. Unplugging the power cord from its back and then sticking it back. Eyes studying the blinking lights as the router reboots and reconnects to the internet.

Pulling out your phone, you sigh as you try to load up a webpage only to be met by a spinning circle of contemplation.

“Network providers tend to have slowdowns this late at night, some say it's due to bandwidth congestion while others argue that they do it to cut costs,” Alhaitham states, teal eyes honed in onto the text as to avoid your pouting glare.

“Very helpful, Alhaitham.” Another sigh leaves you as you stand back up.

He spoke the technical truth, those companies do tend to slow down their networks at night to save on some operational costs.

However, in this case, it was the former that was causing your device’s screens to perpetually stay in loading. Activities such as streaming videos, music, or downloading files take up the most bandwidth.

Alhaitham simply wanted to download some digital copies of recent scientific journals, and maybe a few songs here and there as well. All done simultaneously which led to some congestion.

How unfortunate.

“This has been happening for the past month now, I should call the network provider, it’s driving me up a wall.” Another groan of frustration.

His teal eyes follow your figure from behind the tops of his book, watching you rub your temples as if to expel the exasperation from your body with each mumble that leaves your lips.

“The internet’s so slow I can’t even connect to the Akasha’s databases, that file is still uploading, what should I do in the meantime?”

His hearing was able to pick up each syllable uttered from under your exhausted breath. He shifts his focus momentarily toward the clock just across the room, reading: 10:00 p.m. Since you asked, it’s only right that he responds with his input.

“It’s an issue beyond your control, the best option to utilize your time at this moment would be to get an adequate amount of rest.”

This time it was your turn to respond to him with a deadpan stare, clearly unamused by his suggestion.

“I want to analyze a few more datasets.”

“Missing a few hours of overtime won’t have any determinate effects on your productivity or livelihood.”

“This is for the sake of your development, Alhaitham.” You sigh as if your statement would mystically change his rationale.

“The short-term gratification you’ll get from sacrificing your rest for a few revelations isn’t worth the long-term ramifications of your health.” He bluntly discloses.

Silence fills the room once more, but something odd seems to have mingled with the serenity of the air. This strange inclusion prompts Alhaitham to finally turn away from the pages, connecting his gaze with yours.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” He studies your expression, and rather than furrowed brows, he finds a soft roundness to your eyes.

Him staring at you, you staring at him. A scene that continued for a few beats more before you were the first to break the stalemate.

“No, not at all… it’s just very reminiscent of something I’ve heard before…” You turn away as his gaze follows.

A few slow strides take you back to the corner, figure just about to disappear into the shadows engulfing the halls before you abruptly turn around.

“Goodnight, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight.” He mirrors.

Alhaitham marks today as another successful trail of correcting a bad routine.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Adequate amounts of sunlight, regular meals, and coffee grounds mysteriously find themselves placed on the highest shelf in the cabinets. All the factors were in place to regulate a disastrous sleep schedule.

Yet when Alhaitham checks your device activity, the data points remain scattered about the twilight hours of the morning. A true paradox.

Amongst the Summer afternoon rays seeping in through the windows, Alhaitham was tasked with tidying up the kitchen. An obscure cabinet in a corner was the last section before he could deem the request complete.

There wasn’t anything in particular about the cabinet, it’s space housing an assortment of various vitamins. That was until his hand brushed against a plastic container which didn’t conform to the typical shape of vitamin bottles.

Grasping it within his hand, he pulls the irregular bottle out from the murky depths of a cabinet and out into the sunlight where its identity unravels: a prescription bottle.

Barbiturates sedatives, colloquially referred to as sleeping pills, are used in treatments for insomnia.

It looks like Alhaitham has stumbled upon the answer to the paradox printed on the faded label of a neglected bottle.

Frankly, this revelation wasn’t all that surprising. He had long suspected it from the symptoms and behaviors you display daily. But it’s always good to support a hypothesis with evidence.

Studying the container in his hand further, his gaze narrows as it hones in a corner of the label. In particular, the date printed along it. This bottle expired two years ago.

It’s recommended that every civilian visits the Bimarstan annually for a checkup, in a nation where healthcare is free and accessible, this typically isn’t an issue.

Once more, you stood alone as a data point outside of the cluster.

Stepping into the living room, he finds you tinkering with the network router again. A few more steps and then he was by your side.

“When was your last medical check-up?” Cycling through his memory, Alhaitham failed to recall the last time you had a medical assessment.

Your body halts momentarily, before glancing up at his beryl eyes.

“I’m relatively healthy, there’s no reason for an assessment.”

“The Department of Health recommends annual checkups at the very least.”

“I don’t need to go to the Bimarstan,” you declare.

A weight pulled down at the corners of his lips, creating what is called a frown. An expression he observed many times upon your lips whenever you label him as ‘stubborn’. He might finally grasp why you do such a thing.

Stubbornness isn’t such a good trait when you’re on the other side of it. Fortunately, he anticipated this.

“In accordance with the law, you do.” The contents of the plastic bottle rattle as he reveals it, drawing your gaze toward it.

“The regulation behind your prescription requires that all expired medication be brought back to the Bimarstan for proper disposal.” Denunciation behind his glass irises.

Lips pressing into a thin line, you advert your eyes back to the blinking router in front of you. Each second of silence announces your defeat.

Human actions are limited by a set of laws and they must operate within the bounds, not too different from restrictions imposed on machines.

The consequences looming just a step away discourage most mortals from crossing the threshold.

“I’ll schedule an appointment for noon next week, making use of your saved paid time off is recommended, does that work?” He prompts.

“Alright.”

A weight is alleviated from his lips, triggering the corners to curl upwards. A common response to the accomplishment of a challenge, he understands now why a mortal body does it.

Perhaps a doctor's visit has been long overdue, foggy recollections of if the curtains were shut the night before and if a bag of coffee was accidentally misplaced. Poor memory is one of the repercussions of sleep deprivation, you’re aware of this fact.

Healthcare in Sumeru is highly accredited for its accessibility and quality, the Bimarstan being the standard many hospitals around Teyvat strive to be. To have such a thing so accessible to you, it’s baffling to many how you failed to utilize such privilege.

You had your reasons.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates. A few vaguely familiar faces from across a lecture hall of some general course.

Faces you’ve passed slumped over textbooks and piles of notes in the late hours of the House of Daena, their dark circles matching yours.

Faces that graduated alongside you as celebratory cheers rang out with caps littering the air.

It’d be strange to meet someone you attended the Akademiya with once again in an examination room.

After their years of medical school and surviving residency, you’re certain they’re more than qualified at their jobs. However, it doesn’t change the course of averted eyes and superficial pleasantries.

You breathe out a deep sigh as the receptionist calls out for you, informing you that you could head down to a private room.

Leaving your seat in the waiting room, you do as the receptionist instructs, exiting the lively environment into a placid hallway. The receptionist’s face didn’t evoke any familiarity, nor did the doctor’s name listed on your appointment.

Many of these prominent doctors and diligent nurses were once classmates, but not all.

Candidly, there’s only one classmate who you’d avert paths with within this establishment. In a hospital as large as the Bimarstan, the average number of staff ranges from around 5,000.

The odds of encountering a particular face out of a pool of thousands is nonzero.

A polite knock draws you from your thoughts, your eyes travel toward the door of the private room you entered not too long ago as the handle slowly turns. Thick oak swinging ajar to reveal the figure on the other side.

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Rana, I’ll be taking care of you today.”

You return her greeting with a courteous smile and nod, statistics in your favor, the odds were nonzero but still a minuscule likelihood.

The checkup was rather uneventful, a few questions were asked as she pulled up your medical records. You pulled out the expired medication for her to examine and deal with.

Vitals checked and documented as the appointment drew to a close, a notepad and pen in her hands as she turned to you.

“Overall your health seems fine, although…” she trails off.

You could feel the weight of her stare upon the discoloration ever-present under your eyes, no layer of concealer to cover them. You could already guess her next sentence.

“Would you like a refill of your prescription?”

“No, it’s fine.” It’d just be another bottle to be neglected in the back of a cabinet.

“I see…” This time her eyes move back and forth between your sitting figure and a clock hanging in its place on a wall.

“I… have to process some paperwork, could you wait here for a few minutes?” A polite smile graced her lips.

“Of course.” You mimic her actions.

A day requested off to account for a drawn-out appointment, to account for a scenario like this his foresight analysis is making great progress.

You should take note of that once you return home, a daily log still needs to be updated to track consistent progress after all. It’s technically your day off, but you’re free to decide what to do with it.

As you pondered a checklist to complete once you got in front of your desk the door creaks open.

“Oh? That was fast, Dr. Rana-” The sentence dying upon the tip of your tongue as your lips press into a firm line.

The odds of encountering one familiar face out of a pool of thousands is a small nonzero number, however, if that number was increased to three faces out of those thousands, the chances increase.

How unfortunate, even with such small odds, you managed to come face-to-face with the three people you wanted to avoid the most.

They file into the room and the last one closes the door behind himself as your eyes scan over them. Starting with the ebony-haired man in the center, Tighnari, a doctor at the Bimarstan. It makes sense for a doctor to be in a hospital on this fine day, but not for a lawyer, or an architect.

Four former classmates gathered in an examination room, how strange.

Still, you’ve grown enough to adapt to such peculiar situations. Practiced corporate smiles and pleasantries to navigate this stagnant air.

“Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh, it’s a surprise to see you all here. It’s been a while.”

“A while is a bit of an understatement…” Kaveh is the first of the trio to converse, offering you a small smile.

You return it with one that didn’t reach your eyes. The rhythmic ticks of a clock fill the silence, shifting eyes anticipating and preparing for the next phase of this impromptu reunion. The doctor finally decides to speak up.

“You haven’t been sleeping enough, have you.” Tighnari examining your under eyes.

“I never sleep enough, you know that.” Of course you never slept enough.

How could you sleep when the threat of falling behind the geniuses sitting around a library table was always looming over you? Geniuses who easily grasp the concepts and theories that elude you. How could you lay in bed when you had to catch up to them?

“So, why this sudden get-together?” Impatience rising inside you with each passing tick of the clock.

Dropping the formalities and social pleasantries, you watch as another round of shifting eyes passes. You already had an inkling of the answer they’re still hesitating to address. Finally, your former Kshahrewar senior responds for the group.

“We’re worried about you, you haven’t been in contact for a while now.” Kaveh’s voice was low and mellow, you could tell he took extra effort in marking it such.

The same low and mellow tone he’d speak to you with as he tried to explain your mistakes on an exam, the tone which accompanied the pity in his gaze toward you as he pointed out each miscalculation on your paper. The tone made you ball your fist up on your lap.

“I’m fine, just busy.”

“Please don’t start with that again.” The blond sighs, sympathy still ever-present in his eyes.

“I’m just busy with work, as are all of you, we’re no longer students with minimal responsibilities,” you retort.

The days when a group of friends could gather around a table for hours on end, half bantering and half studying, basking in the Spring warmth streaming in from the grand windows of the House of Daena have long passed.

“We all have busy careers, that’s true, but not to the extent of being a detriment to our health.” With a sigh, Tighnari began his health lecture.

Expounding upon the negative consequences of a poor work-life balance. Shifting your focus instead on tuning out this lecture you didn’t sign up for.

“You stopped listening… of course,” a deep sigh concludes the doctor’s sermon.

Ah, you’ve been found out. The polite smile straining itself upon your lips, legs itching to walk out of this restrictive space.

“Here, it’s a contact of mine, I recommend you give her a call-”

“It’s fine.” You promptly push away the business card just as Tighnari presents it to you, a thread of patience stretched thinly.

“She can help you through-” he continues.

“It’s fine, my research is just busy-”

“This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s my research.” A sharp undertone leaks through your professional demeanor.

“And this is why we’re worried about you!” Kaveh’s patience was the first snap.

Then again, your senior might have been the light of Kshahrewar and a praised genius, but he was never the best at handling his emotional regulation.

“Look around, don’t you see how concerned we are about you? No returned texts or calls and no answers at a doorbell for years, only ever talking about this research. It’s as if you-” he stops himself, rudy eyes meeting with your cold stare.

He knew better than to finish that sentence, you knew that he knew he shouldn’t.

“We’re worried about you, this research… it’s not good for you.” Tighnari interjects, attempting to shift the course of this intervention.

Of course, when the development of an android was announced, there wasn’t just discourse amongst the general public, but debates raged throughout academia as well. How unfortunate it is that friends now stand at polar ends.

“It’s my research,” you reaffirm.

This research was why you got your doctorate, it’s why you have a job, it’s why you have a house. This research has entangled itself into the very fibers of your life. It was where a predetermined path had led you.

The room fills once more with a lull, nothing but deep sighs and ever-shifting eyes. Neither side is able to get through to the other. Typical of most academic debates. Still, it seems they weren’t ready to end the intervention so soon.

“Listen… we’re worried for you, I… I know it’s been very difficult these past years.” Your senior takes a step closer.

That same sympathetic timbre brings a vile taste to your tongue. You stay silent in favor of pushing the bitterness down as it tries to claw its way through your polite façade.

“I… know what it must have been like for you, It’s been hard on all of us. I’ve experienced something similar, so I can tell you-”

“I’m sorry, Kaveh. But tragedies shouldn’t be compared, because they’ll never have a fair comparison.” You end the conversation.

Just like how it isn’t fair to compare stars who were their own centers of gravity with a mere rock at the mercy of an orbital pull to give it direction.

Even when you sat at the same table as them, you were never at the same level as them. Families with academic prestige, minds blessed with wisdom, and the freedom to pursue a self-chosen path. You could only ever look up at what you lacked.

“Your worlds kept on spinning, your lives move on with the change of the season. But not mine, mine stopped long ago.” It’s not fair to compare a rock to a star, from their silence, you assume they knew that too.

“I’m now taking the initiative to make it start again, don’t interfere.” Your valediction to the geniuses whom you couldn’t live up to.

It’s just the nature of this world, geniuses walked their own paths while others took another. Geniuses can’t understand those others, just as others can’t understand geniuses.

This doctor’s appointment has gone on for long enough. Gathering your belongings, you stride past them, eyes refusing to meet.

Your hand pried open the door, pausing just at the threshold as Cyno finally breaks his silence.

“Is this truly what you want? To defy the edicts of finality with research?”

Ah, what an inquiry. Perhaps it’s just like a lawyer to ask such a thing.

“Is my research in violation of any laws in Sumeru?” You refuse to meet his scarlet condemnation.

“As of now, no.”

“Then I don’t see how this involves you, there’s no place for personal biases and mortals in the judicial system.” Crossing the threshold, the door creaks close behind you as hurried steps echo through the sterile hall.

This was a mistake, you should’ve never come here. Your body was fine, your vitals are fine, you’re fine. There wasn’t a point in wasting time here, you needed to leave this place filled with faces offering you condolences. Exiting the narrow hall back into the dim murmurs that fill the waiting room, the last thread of patience starts to splinter.

From the muddled chatter, a bright shrill rang above them all. Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source. Even in a sea of passing faces and colors, it didn’t take you long to find it.

A young girl grins a smile with a few gaps as she stretches her arms out to her sides, mimicking an airplane. A young father helpless to his daughter’s giggles, hands secured around her legs as he lets her soar on his shoulders. Next to his side was a giggling mother, watching with amusement and endearment.

A private moment hidden amongst the waiting room, you look away. You should return to the private walls of your house before that thread inevitably breaks. Sliding glass doors part to grant you exit from this suffocating cage.

Like a speck of dust drifting in the breeze, you disappear into the bustling crowd of Sumeru City. The push and pull of strangers further you along your route, even as your mind drifts off.

With modern advancements in aerospace engineering, the chances of a plane crashing have decreased significantly, with recent statistics citing only 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

How long ago since the last time you’ve been inside an airport? What were your last memories of an airport? Do you remember?

–----

“Are you sure you can’t come with us?” Your mother’s thumb traced over your hand.

“It’s a bit too late for me to pack, we’re already at the airport, Mom.”

“Don’t you want to visit Fontaine? Didn’t you say they had really advanced things there?” She didn’t let go of your hand.

“I’m busy with my thesis.” You were still in the midst of getting a Ph.D., the very thing they demanded of you.

“But I planned this trip so we could spend time together.” Your mother tried to get you to meet her gaze.

You adverted your eyes. So this is how they spent their recent financial flexibility. With a scholarship and research-assistant salary, you had enough to cover the tuition by yourself, relieving your parents of that burden. But to get that scholarship and salary, you had to pay with your time.

“I’m busy, mom.” You freed your hand from her grasp.

“But-”

“Stop it dear, she’s not going to change her mind.” Your father’s gruff voice stopped your mother.

“There’s no point in trying to change the mind of an ungrateful child.”

You felt the weight of his disappointed stare upon you, a frown formed on your lips as they pressed together. This was a sudden trip announced to you just a few days prior, you didn’t have time to accompany them. But they didn’t seem to care.

Of course they didn’t. Your parents only ever saw the grades, the diplomas, the results. But they never bothered to see the anguish you endured to give it to them.

“Enjoy your trip.” Words barely passed your clenched teeth as you turned around and walked away.

An ungrateful planet ignored the calls from their mother in their first successful act of defiance. Trying to break away from their gravitational pull.

–----

That was your last memory of the airport.

Those were the last memories two parents had of their child.

The child they sacrificed their time, labor, and freedom to build a better life for. Your parent’s last memories were that of an ungrateful child, maybe it was the last scene they thought of as a plane was swallowed by the salty depths.

Humans, defined by their curiosity, will always yearn to reach as high as they can. Tales warning those to never fly too close to the ever-bright star ignored in the pursuit of radiant curiosity. Your parents were no different.

They ever had the chance to travel, too busy trying to provide food in front of you. So when the burdening weight was lifted, naturally they wanted to stretch their wings to see the views they never got to in their youth. They always wanted to touch the sky, to reach for the moon.

There’s a proverb often told to young minds: ‘Shoot for the moon, even if you fall, you can still land on a star’.

This saying is riddled with inaccuracies. The stars are much further away than the serene moon. Beckoning the curious eyes to look at them, for curious hands to yearn for them.

But once the glue on those wings are melted away by selfish rays, what is there to catch them besides the cold unfeeling ocean? Did they sink from the memories of an ungrateful child weighing on them?

You should’ve been on that plane.

The familiar features of your neighborhood come into view, the doors of your house are just ahead. Just hold on, don’t let that thread snap just yet, just a few more steps.

Tighnari had his father and mother working right alongside him at the Bimarstan.

Cyno had regular visits to his adoptive father, and sometimes his adoptive sister Lisa visits too.

Kaveh had reconnected with his mother overseas, now having a few younger half-siblings who jump to greet him every time he visits.

Lives still spinning and warm in the light of their brilliance. What do you have?

A job in a career picked out for you. Paychecks rotting in a bank account with no one to pay back. A spacious and hallow house with no one to reside in its empty walls, only displaying a doctorate you loathed.

A stray rock who lost her stars. Wandering without their gravitational pull in the vacuum of a lonely darkness. Just what do you have?

“Alhaitham,” you call out just as the front door slams behind you.

You could hear his steady steps approaching along the wooden floor, but it’s too slow so your frenzied steps close in the distance between your two forms. The thread gives in and snapping as the recoil proliferates through your body.

Without a greeting, no prompt, or prior warning your grasp wrinkles his once pristine button-down.

The bitter tears you held back now soak into the fabric as even viler cries choke your voice. The shame of displaying such a sight in front of a being whose eyes don’t produce moisture is long abandoned. In the walls of this hallow house, your broken sobs echo off.

He stands still in the middle of the hall, the low hum of his motor resonating in your ears as you hide your face deeper into the synthetic skin of his chest. But that’s fine, the whir of motor is enough of a substitute for a heartbeat.

Alhaitham stands in front of the reflection staring back at him, he had undocked himself from the charging port not too long ago. Tracing over the synthetic material stretched over his imitation of a collarbone as his mind wanders.

There aren’t enough chemicals in tears to make them corrosive, nor were they at the temperature to boil.

So why does it burn?

Trailing his fingertips where your tears soaked onto his skin, recollections of the searing sensation that afflicted the area with each sorrowful drop. Choking sobs which he caused.

He failed to consider all causal factors to assess the situation fully and failed to appraise all possible alternatives. He failed to make the right decision, and he let harm befall you because of it. It’s strange, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes, yet he finds it hard to look in the mirror.

Teal gaze scrutinizes the arms, legs, and body in the reflection. The reflection in front of him had all the identifiable components of a man, but they’re all synthetic.

From the tips of his sliver hair to the vast expanse of his skin, they’re all made from high-quality silicon parts supported by a metal frame. An engineered body with a motor in place of a heart.

Maybe that’s why he failed to make the right decision, he had no heart to weigh in on the ruling.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

The android is faced with a new dilemma.

From the entrance of the kitchen, Alhaitham watches you. A spoon absentmindedly swirling in the cup of coffee on the counter in front of you. Your thoughts wander elsewhere, the rays of a setting sun unable to light up dull spaced-out eyes.

He’s observed your condition for the past week, no hint of improvement.

A new dilemma he must decipher, the urgency rising with each passing second as the spoon continues.

The lull of the evening air was shattered by the sound of a porcelain cup meeting the tiled floor. Jagged pieces and coffee spilled all along the cold surface. Listlessly your eyes move to access the mess on the floor, spoon still grasped in your hand.

“Ah.” That was all your lips could say.

Limbs slowed with lethargy, you crouch down closer to the broken pieces scattered about. Bare hand reaching out to grab the sharp edges unthinkingly. A firm grasp prevents your touch from the ragged porcelain.

“It’s dangerous, I’ll handle it.” Alhaitham brings your hand further away from the hazard.

Your aloof eyes trail past him toward a wall where he could hear a clock tick before they returned to his resolute stare.

“It’s past 5 p.m.”

“A hazard has appeared in the environment, it’s protocol that I clear it.” His rehearsed response.

“Oh… alright.” Limplessness returning to your wrist within his hold, body too lethargic to object.

With you seated at the kitchen table away from the jagged edges that could potentially pierce your skin, Alhaitham begins gathering the pieces. As your aloof eyes wander about the monitor of your laptop, his mind ponders a dilemma.

It’s often said that guilt is held in the heart. In novels and human anecdotes, it's been described to him as a burdensome heaviness that sinks the heart.

A sensation reminiscent of drowning in icy water. A sensation only perceivable through a beating mortal heart.

Alhaitham is an android, he’s aware of this. A being with silicon skin encasing a metal frame. A motor in place of where a mortal heart would be.

So what is this weight burdening his chest?

An internal diagnostic returned no errors and no reports of any damage or unusual occurrence within his systems. Yet, a heaviness brewed deep inside his chest, its mass increasing each sunrise and fall, with every passing moment the riddle was left unanswered.

How could a motor hold guilt? How could the weight of judgment manifest itself in the absence of an organic heart that beats instead of whirs? How could an inorganic object possibly suffer guilt?

All the mora poured into his creation, all the hours of research contributed to his algorithms, and all the texts he’s scanned through were all for naught. The pinnacle of scientific and mechanical development couldn’t solve a simple conundrum.

The floorboard creaks under the weight of his steady strides as he moves about the corridor, the soft swishes of a broom coinciding with each step.

Dust had begun to settle in the crevices of the home, it’s about time that he took up the mantle that was supposed to be his.

Could an explanation of this weight be the backlog of tasks and responsibilities he had pushed off? Chores he ignored in favor of browsing the contents of a library? A burden he selfishly passed onto your shoulders.

Maybe after he completes the tasks that were supposed to be assigned to him he could clear the cache, then this weight in his chest would subside.

The bristles of the broom scratch against a door, the light force setting the frame ajar further. Revealing the dust-coated scene in front of him. A boundary he was restricted from.

Alhaitham concluded that this small corner of the house must hold some sentimental value to you, thus it’s best for him to not disturb it.

Just as he goes to close the door, Alhaitham scans around the environment identifying the shape of a journal tucked away under an old table.

He’s not permitted to enter, but all books belong in the library. Spines sorted along wooden selves, not on a dusty floor.

An exception shall be granted, setting aside the broom, he steps in to collect the neglected book.

While crouching down and gathering the covers into his hold, a different gleam catches his eye. The light reflects off its glass surface and highlights the dust particles dancing in the still air.

With his free hand, he picks it up, teal eyes running along the glass orb. After a moment of processing the object, he successfully identifies it as a toy.

A popular model to display an artificial starry night among blank walls. Alhaitham turns to follow a trail of cut-out stars pasted all along the walls. The soft glow of their plastic shapes subdued by the brilliance of the afternoon sun streaming in.

Were you interested in stars? Glancing out the window, he discerns the murky shapes of buildings in Sumeru City off in the distance.

This house is located in the suburbs away from the noisy clammer of the city streets and traffic. However, where the sound waves couldn’t travel didn’t mean the sky around this quiet neighborhood was uncontaminated by activities in the city.

When the sun retreats away for rest, the city doesn’t follow suit.

Through the power of fluorescent lights in street lamps and office buildings, humans created their own artificial daylight to continue the bustle of their lives. Light which polluted the night sky and stole the radiance away from her stars.

Unable to enjoy the natural tapestry of the night, did you substitute the company of stars with toy imitations?

Turning the orb in his hand, his eyes notice the signs of damage along the projector. Perhaps that’s why it sat abandoned in this room.

He’s stayed in this restricted space long enough. Carefully closing the door behind him, hands still full.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

“I’ve uncovered a strange object, my software isn’t able to identify it.” Alhaitham stands just outside the open office door.

Sparing him a glance away from your monitor, your brows pinched together in confusion at his sudden report during the late hours of the night.

“A strange object?” You inquire again.

“Yes, I’ve scanned over it a few times but no results are returning.”

“Huh…”

Teals watching you press a finger against your pursed lips in concentration. A habit of yours often displayed when amid contemplation. After a few breaths, your eyes meet his as you give your reply.

“Well, where is this object?”

“Come with me.”

Along the wooden floor, two pairs of steps tap rhythmically in time with one another as they traverse the hallway stopping at the living room where the mysterious object resides.

Approaching the coffee table in the center, Alhaitham steps to the side to present it as it sits upon the polished surface.

“This… is what’s been giving your software issues?” The quirk returned to your brow as you cast him a glance.

Alhaitham simply nobs as you approach the object closer. Kneeling beside it, your eyes examine the familiar device.

“It’s a planetarium projector, it projects the scene of a night sky, in other words: just a toy.”

He hums in acknowledgment, carefully treading toward the light switch in the corner as the toy holds the gaze of your eyes.

“It should be thrown away… It’s broken after all.” Your tone dismissive, yet your hand caresses the broken toy with tenderness.

“It’s not,” he replies.

Perking your head up, you turn to face him with that same furrow between your brows.

“What do you mean, Alhaitham-”

He flicks the switch, plunging the room in a blanket of darkness earning a squeak of surprise from you. The device whirs as it awakens, painting the blank tapestry with a scene of the night sky with its shimmering lights.

The vibrant shapes of stars and planets take their place along the living room wall, creating a private galaxy that surrounds you.

Your sentence remains unfinished upon your tongue as your eyes take in the display encompassing you. The nostalgic glimmer of the night and her stars twinkle in the reflection of your irises as he settles down beside you.

“Did… did you fix it?”

He hums in response.

It only took a bit of study and careful tinkering to restore the worn pieces and gears. A simple effort was all it took to allow the projector to shine its recreation of the stars. Returning a light that he hasn’t seen in a while.

“Thank you, Alhaitham,” you breathe out, lips curling up softly and eyes still enraptured by the stars.

He doesn’t respond this time as his teal gaze focuses on your expression, on the smile that’s been missing for some time. It’s strange, this sensation manifesting in his chest. He thought if he was able to restore the light to your eyes, then that heaviness brewed deep inside his chest would clear. But it remained.

His system unable to express nor suppress the heaviness which bubbled up like seafoam rising to the surface.

The sensation was different than it was before. Instead of a mass that weighed him down to the bottom of a cold depth, it was more reminiscent of a warm ebb. Washing over every limb of his as he studied the curvature of your lips and the glimmer of your eyes.

Another internal diagnostic wasn’t necessary, for Alhaitham had reached his epiphany to a conundrum. An engineered body may lack a heart, but not a conscious.

A consciousness that acts like a vessel collecting the accumulation of that heaviness. A heaviness that couldn’t be called ‘guilt’.

No, perhaps it has always been something other than ‘guilt’.

It only took until the vessel overflowed for an engineered body to recognize it for what it truly was.

There’s something strange happening to your Android. Reviewing the diagnostic reports of his systems returned nothing out of the ordinary. So why did you suspect something to be wrong? Perhaps you could call it intuition.

Or perhaps it’s the lack of books strewn about the house. Or the initiation of tasks without a prompt. Or that night a living room was filled with the radiance of tiny dots along empty walls. Something strange is happening.

“Alhaitham, what’s taking you so long in the kitchen?” You poke your head out from the kitchen doorway, sights honing in on your android currently scrutinizing the recipe book in his hands.

Perhaps there’s a defect in the print, if the black ink isn’t contrasting enough with the beige paper, which time has faded, it does cause issues with optical character recognition. Maybe the past splatters of sauces and oils upon the aged book were too much of a hurdle.

“Chef Mao is a renowned cook, but his recipes are vague. He suggests a pinch of salt to enhance the flavor of this dish. I’ve calculated that Chef Mao has a 19.3 cm hand length which entails that his ‘pinches’ measure around 0.356 grams. However, he said to add Jueyun Chili oil until fragrant, I’m still processing the data I’ve collected on his olfactory system, the calculations will take around five minutes.” He turns back to the stove.

“Alhaitham.”

“Yes?”

“Please put down the book and get out of the kitchen.” A bold choice of words from you.

“Was my response unsatisfactory?” His teal eyes land on you.

“It’s just that I’m hungry.”

“This dish should be complete in around 90 minutes accounting for the other-”

“No,” you interrupt.

He studies you for a while, accessing the situation and the unfinished dish still simmering on the stove. After a few breaths, he returns a response.

“Shall I order delivery from Lambad’s Tavern?” His hand switches off the fire.

He conceded. The notoriously stubborn and fickle android conceded to your whims. There was definitely something wrong. You pace into the kitchen, getting close to observe his teal irises for any sign of possible flaws.

“Alhaitham, you’ve been behaving strangely as of late, did you encounter something?”

He returns your gaze, teal reflecting off your irises as you continue to study him, and him you. His silence only amounts to the deepening furrow between your brows as your assessment of his frame fails to identify any impairments.

“Why have you been behaving like this?” You prompt again.

“Have I neglected my responsibilities for so long that fulfilling them has become a cause for concern?” He finally responds.

“Now’s not the time for jests,” you huff.

“From what I’ve reviewed on human behavior, it’s not strange to want to care for the person I love.” A blunt statement.

From the window, the moonlight peeks upon the strange phenomenon occurring. Two bodies remain motionless in a silent lull.

One pair of placate teal eyes and one pair of bewildered eyes too lost in each other to mind the witness intruding on this private moment. Words finally conquer in your brain, ending the quietude.

“Refrain from saying nonsensical words.” Your lips press together into a thin line.

“Do you believe such a thing is beyond my capabilities?”

You couldn’t respond, or more accurately, you simply didn’t know how to. A being without a heart, a being who lacked the necessary chemicals to create the cocktail known as emotions. How is it possible?

“I have no heart, I’m aware. But I have a conscience.” He must’ve deduced the exact thoughts racing through your head.

Your brows only furrow further as you wait for him to continue his explanation.

“Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.” Taking note of the glistening shine beginning to pool in your wide eyes.

“And I believe that I love you.” His sincere gaze never leaves your form.

Not a single sentence is able to form upon your tongue. An expression he couldn’t decipher upon your features. Perhaps his statement was too long-winded, an overly complicated explanation. Maybe a simpler one could convey his message better.

You’re the first to break eye contact, choosing to watch the tiles on the floor over him. He remains firm in his stance, not faltering once as the seconds turn into minutes. Your shoulders rise as your lungs take a deep breath.

“… say that again… please.” Words just barely above a whisper.

He could only bend to your whims.

“I love you.”

Your head lifts up to face him, your hands hesitating momentarily as they cup his cool cheeks, fingers trembling. Something glimmering in your eyes as droplets escape your lashes.

This time, Alhaitham wipes them away before they could trail down your cheeks.

You did it. All those long hours, all those reports and trials, all of these years sacrificed to research. You’ve created a complete human consciousness with your bare hands. One that understands sorrow, joy, and love.

You succeeded.

However, in this moment as you peer into the teal eyes of your Magnum opus, as he reflects the endearment in your own. The notion of reporting this revolutionary milestone in the development of artificial intelligence never crossed your mind once.

Instead, all you did in this moment was pull his face down closer. Closing the distance between the two of you as your lips felt his for the first time. Warm skin against a soft imitation, merging until a lukewarm temperature formed between their touch.

A gentle, yet longing connection of two lips.

Only when your lungs protest for air did you pull away, hands still encompassing his face as he reveals his teal eyes back from behind closed lids. Eyes reflecting one another as a tender lull settles between you. This time, his whisper mingles with the soft intermission.

“Was that a kiss?”

Such an innocent question, one you couldn’t help but giggle at as you nod your head.

“Could you show me again?” His hands found purchase on your hips, beckoning you closer to his frame.

You surrender to the call, pressing against him as your lips reconnect. A rhythm soon settled in place as they pressed into each other deeper. One that was interrupted once more by your lung's protest for oxygen. At a mere kiss, your mind ceased to remember how to breathe.

“Again.” A baritone voice just above the hush of your pants.

And so your lips meet thrice, this time in an all-consuming embrace. A hesitant brush of a tongue against your lips, requesting access. Your hands move up to caress his soft locks as you grant it. Latching onto each other as the shroud consumed you both wholly.

A beautifully feverish delirium. The line in the sand that separated a person from a thing jumbled until the outline disappeared. A singularity, an amorous occurrence.

He releases your lips, the lust in your eyes reflected in his own. Giving a moment for your mind to return to attention as his lips brush away the fading traces of wetness down your cheeks.

“A kitchen isn’t a suitable setting for such an activity,” he whispers next to your ear.

Baritone trailing a line of goosebumps up your neck and you nod in response, burying your face into the crook of his neck which fit you perfectly.

Slowly his hands travel down your hips, awaiting your confirmation for the next step just as you permitted it. In one fluid transition, his arm wraps around the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you off the ground as your arms envelop his neck.

Steady steps pad along a wooden hallway, the hinges of your bedroom singing their welcome as the two of you advance to a more suitable setting. Depositing you upon cool sheets, fabric wrinkling as your body settles in. The arms still wrapped around his neck pull him closer as this time your legs join in luring him closer to your warmth.

It’s strange, is it possible for his lips to crave yours? The light of the moon reflected off the glossiness coating them. He delves back in as his body hovers over yours, unwilling to be apart from the softness it yearned for.

The soft flesh of your writhing body against his firm hands, feeling up your heated skin he slips under your shirt. Bunching up the fabric as he explores more of the new expanse of skin. A lovely whimper vibrates against his lips at his actions, spurring him to continue.

Tracing over the outline of your bra, his fingers creep under. Kneading the plushness of your breast, feeling your nipple beginning to perk up against his ministration. An itch stretching from the pits of his desire, a curious craving to witness the sight concealed away.

Disjoining your lips as a string of saliva connects them, he pushes your shirt further up. All the while your hands grasp onto the edges of the fabric and push them back down. Bemusing his beryl eyes as they catch how the tips of your ears were aflame, a peculiar display of bashfulness.

Well, a sight he’s witnessed on a few occasions. Such as when you’d leave the shower wrapped in a towel just to cross paths with him. A timidity that gradually faded away as you grew more confident in the privacy restrictions in place, ensuring that the secrets of this home remained in the confines of its walls.

So why is this shyness making its reappearance now?

“Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” His words ghost over the shell of your vulnerable ear.

Causing you to jolt and pull down the edges of your shirt to cover the bottom of your loungewear shorts.

“No, it’s just been a while…” Your sentence trails off, eyes still focusing everywhere but him.

Ah, a mere string of words, yet they tempted something from the depths. An oppressive sentiment, one that made the grip upon your soft flesh grow firmer. He’s yet to have accessed the entirety of your figure, a view still denied to him by your taut shirt, but another entity had.

There was a myriad of questions he could use to interrogate. However, as his teal gaze observe how your teeth lightly tug at the bottom of your plush lips in fidgety. Alhaitham devises a much kinder scheme.

It’s fine, he can overwrite them with his touches.

“What can I do to gain permission?” A question asked as a line of kisses press their way into your fervent skin, goosebumps following each one.

Biting down to muffle the bashful moans into whimpers you burrow your face into the plushness of the pillow. Alhaitham continues to soothe kisses over the fabric of your shirt until they finally reach your quivering hands still stretching the hem.

His hand encloses one of yours, bringing it away from the fabric refuge to press his lips against your knuckle. An action that made you peak back at him, meeting a patient gaze awaiting you.

Another soft press of his lips against your knuckle in silent request, at last, got you to release the hem, allowing him to push the fabric up to expose what was hidden from him. Permitting him to explore the sultry expanses with a wake of kisses, your hand finding reprieve entangling themselves with his.

His free hand slipping behind your back, he unfastens the clasp of your bra with a slight tug, a relatively simple task when you learn how such a contraption works.

His grasp untangles from yours as he pushes the useless articles of clothing off your body, you raise your arms over your head to aid in the process.

He rewards you with another flurry of kisses in the valley of your breast as his large hands encase the softness of your breast. A motion that made your legs pull him closer.

Your touches dance along his frame as well, unable to differentiate the difference between skin and a recreation. More whimpers leave your lips at his actions, prodding something in him to do more. To steal more of those sinful breaths from you, something in his coding thirsting for more.

Sliding his hands back down the curves of your body, he hooks his fingers over the rim of your shorts and panties pulling them down. Glass eyes zeroing in on the glistening thread that linked your panties and slit. Proof of arousal, your body awakening its cardinal impulses.

Could the signals transmitted through his system be classified in the same way?

He wants to investigate further. Moving his face lower to inspect the saturated folds that beckoned him.

Only to be denied by the gates of your knees pressing together, as your body curls up in fortification. Denying him the privilege of satiating his curiosity is like denying a man water in an ocean of sand. Evaluating how your eyes were squeezed together in shame, he had foresaw this.

“Mmm, there seems to be an incongruity, do you want me to stop?” Large hands grasping at your plush thighs, but making no move to part them.

Your head responds with a shake, but your knees still locked together. Your attention centering on him bashfully.

“Then guide me, tell me how to please you,” he proposes hands soothing your tense legs.

Utilizing the skill he had accessed a few moments ago once more, gracing your skin with his lips awaiting your response. The tension in your legs loosens with each kiss, and gradually a fissure forms in the barrier of your defense, knees parting.

However, he doesn’t cross the threshold, no, he restrained himself from indulging too soon. Half-ladden eyes peering up to connect with yours.

“Well, tell me. What do you want me to do?”

A pout makes its appearance on your face, but what could you do? It is your responsibility to shepherd him since the beginning, to have him step over the line dividing an android and man. Best to take on your duty, no?

Parting your legs further, cheeks ablaze and eyes adverted as you allow his teal gaze to absorb the uninterrupted view of your dripping arousal. Your hands aiding as they thwart the urge of your bashful legs’s urge to preserve your dignity.

“Please use your mouth and hands,” you prompt, face pressing deeper into one side of a pillow under his stare.

Alhaitham encroaches closer to your glistening folds, his large hands supporting each one of your thighs. Approaching the details of your honeypot in front of him, concentrating on the little nub which lures him closer. He presses a light peck against the nub as your body flinches.

“Like this?”

Plush lips pressed tightly, you respond with timid shakes.

Returning back, his lips delving deeper this time, an audible pop when he pulls away from your taunted clit. Feeling the muscles tighten in your legs.

“Like that?” Mirth leaked through his baritone words.

Your head shakes with more vigor.

“Then how about this?” This time his tongue takes action, dipping into the center of your honeypot before flicking up at your nub.

You return a restrained moan, teal eyes picking up on the twitch of your folds. It seems that he’s uncovered the proper procedures. Peering up from between your legs at the harsh rises of your chest by rush breaths as your eyes remained sealed behind lashes, he decided to impart some mercy. Taking the initiative to shoulder a bit of your duty.

Retracing his steps, his tongue repeating its previous motions of lapping up the nectar that slipped out from your folds. Always ending each strip up your slit with a flick to your sensitive nub.

Your hands abandon their post in favor of snaring themselves in his ashen trestles as your back begins to arch off the sheets. Thighs beginning to enclose around his head, yet it didn’t deter the vigor in his motions one bit.

If anything, it spurred them on. The added pressure of your legs pulling him against your weeping folds assisted him in his quest. Testing which pattern made your body quiver, calculating the pace of his tongue's flicks made your hips buck up.

Alhaitham takes notice of how your greedy hole seems to be clenching down every time a tongue dipped in, you did request for his mouth and fingers after all.

A finger begins to prod at your entrance, coating itself in the overflowing slick as it traces the puckering entry. Your whines increase in volume as your greed escalates, legs locking around him. Thus, he yields to your neediness, filling your lonely walls with the company of his finger.

Thrusting it in time with his licks as he rubs against the slick muscles. Your back arched off the bed, your fingers grounding themselves in the tangles of his hair as if trying to hold on to a shred of reason.

His interest has been greatly piqued, he wanted to see what it would look like. He wants to see what your expression looks like when you fall into the depths of debauchery. You’d permit him such privileges right? After all, curiosity is what defines the human spirit.

A second finger soon joins in, its thickness stretching and prepping your walls, cultivating your arousal into a rapacious hunger.

Articulate tongue now focused on abusing your clit in the swipes of sweet torture, lips encasing around it to provide some suction. Fingers honing in on relocating the weakness deep within you which made your voice peak and tremble.

He could hear the harshness of your panting breath between each escalating moan, how your walls squeezed and sucked his fingers deeper. Teal gaze never once ceased their evaluation of your face. Making sure to appraise each lewd detail of your impending ecstasy.

It’s impossible to stand at the apex of euphoria forever, no, for gravity will always pull you back down. A pivotal moment in time as the forces tugged down at you as you fell, losing your shame and sanity along the way.

A fall from grace which etches itself in the roll of your eye and vulgar expression, caused by the tempest of pleasure seeps into every fiber of your being as you plummeted down into the ocean of rapture.

The fingers intertwined in his hair pulling his face flushed against your pulsing cunt. Even with your mind fractured by orgasmic bliss your body still reacts to each lap of his tongue as he manages the slick aftermath. Fingers stroking your sweet spot through each contraction of your walls.

“Nng!” A feeble push against his ashen locks, your abused clit crying for a moment of reprieve.

Oh? It seems your consciousness returned faster than he expected. With a resounding pop, he grants your overstimulated nerves a moment to recover. Allowing the traces of your nectar to dribble down his chin. Taking this moment to verify the effectiveness of his scheme.

The air dense with the fragrance of lust, lips red from the abuse of your teeth, mouth agape as your lungs gasp tongue almost lulling out.

An absolutely debauched face, a sight which brought the corners of his lips to curl.

Counting the beads of sweat that lingered on your skin, his rationale urged him to swipe them off to prevent a chill from plaguing you. Withdrawing away from your form he plans his destination to the bath to retrieve a towel, only for a smaller hand to snag him in its hold.

Alhaitham turns back to face you, awaiting your next prompt. However, your bitten lips couldn’t muster up the courage to utter the plea it so desperately wanted. Thus, your eyes connect with his, praying that a slow blink could convey the invocation your voice couldn’t.

Standing there as a few breaths pass, the teal glow of his irises indicates his deduction of what your eyes conveyed. Ah yes, the passionate entanglement experience just a moment before could be classified as ‘foreplay’. The appetizer to the main event.

So your appetite has yet to be satiated, evident from how your thighs pressed against each other in an attempt to quell the ache. How could he leave a task undone?

“Show me what you desire,” he instructs.

Hesitantly, your hands encroach closer to the rim of his slacks. Your every action observed by him. Resting your palms against the outline of a zipper, you glance up to seek confirmation, he grants it.

You undo the button at the top before pulling the zipper down. Allowing for you to shimmy his briefs and slacks down to the floor. Revealing to the world, with the moon as your witness, every intricate detail placed into his engineered body.

It felt so foreign in your hands. Encircling your fingers around his girth, tracing over the bumps of each vein. Amid your admiration, his body overtook yours. Pinning you back against the damp sheets. It seems you were very interested in this feature of his, perhaps it was the cure for the yearning between your writhing legs.

Your legs splayed to either side of his hips, a clear path to your greed. His hand spreads your collected slick along his length. Its bulbous tip presses against your quivering entrance. Meeting your half-lidden eyes, he awaits your permission. Thus, you captured his lips into another kiss, just as the tip breaches the threshold of your entrance.

Finally giving your aching walls the delicious stretch it craved. A moan resonates between connected lips, your eyes beginning to roll back as he sinks deeper and deeper, obscene squelches following each inch.

Thick tip pressed up against the deepest parts of you as he bottoms out, your hands finding refuge along his back. Breaking the lock of your lips, Alhaitham lifts cants his head up to take in the scene under him.

Hovering over your panting form, his body caging you against the wrinkled fabric, feeling your unseemly breaths against his skin. A teal glow reflected in the lust-hazed pools of your eyes.

He understands now, why so many poets lost their minds, trying their whole lives to find the words to chronicle the sight laid out before him along messy sheets.

Under his tense study, your fingers lightly claw at the smooth expanse of his back. A soundless prayer to quell the famine, your gummy walls coaxing around his cock with its embrace.

“Haitham,” you mewl.

Not even the greatest saint could deny your request, he wagers they’d gladly walk through the gates of damnation just for a morsel of you.

Rolling his hips back, he drags his girth along the walls of your greed ensuring that they feel the outline of every vein. Feeling the cool air brush against the slick dripping off his length, only the bulbous tip remained in the clutches of your cunt.

A muffled whine of protest from you interrupted as he sunk back in, accompanied by a filthy squelch.

Robust hands encompass the edges of your waist, he repeats the roll of his hips. Feeling the tightening clutches of your core, croons falling off your tongue with each toing and froing.

What symphonies could he draw from those agape lips of yours?

He wants to witness the sinful hymns of your voice as you are overtaken by the throes of pleasure. Perhaps he should conduct an experiment of his own. Through the raunchy air, a clap pierces the leaden veil, your plush hips pressed flush against his anchored ones, a thrust that seared your nerves and curled your toes.

“Ah!” Moan ripped from your throat.

Yes, that’s the amplitude he wants to discern with his ears.

Continue to sing in that octave. It’s as if pulled by the reins of sin, he finds himself experiencing hunger for the first time, fixating on tearing more of those chants from you. He drew back his hips then forced them back in deeper. A wail followed each rake of his cock, walls accenting each thrust with fluttering clenches. Mewls and whines resonated through the room as his firm grip didn’t slacken with each rock of the bed.

Pace escalating and remorseless, skin clashing against skin, the heat of your writhing body scorching him. But he won’t relent, not until he’s taken what he wanted. Driving you deeper into the creaking mattress, thrusting and filling each crevice of your core. Your soft breast pinned against his solid frame.

Your face pressed into the crook of his neck, legs imprisoned within the confines of his bruising grasp, toes painfully arched in an attempt to distribute the burn of the maddening euphoria firing through each nerve. The moans of his name like a prayer of salvation, a chant for every punishing strike against your deepest weakness. Your fingers now clawing against his durable back for a foothold for your fleeing sanity. You feared that this time, it might not return to you.

Oddly, a voice from the rearmost corner of your mind whispered for you to relinquish it. Trade in rationale, sensibility, and morals for absolute ecstasy. Your teeth had already sunk into the apple, its juices dribbling down the corners of your mouth. Why not swallow it down? Get drunk off the wet claps of skin, the grind of his muscular torso against your stimulated clit, the slams of his girthy cock and thick tip. Why deny yourself from the euphoria robbed from you for so long?

So you concede to its beckoning, swallowing down the last wisp of sanity until it drowned in the maddening abuse of your sweet spot from his pistoning hips. Granting you entry to true pleasure as the knot in your core unravels. Backing arching off the mattress, mending the fibers of your being impossibly close to his. Head thrown back against a ruffled pillow as a long shameless wail erupts from your trembling lips. Lost in the tides of rapture.

Alhaitham’s body stills as his ears digest the beautiful aria of your undoing. Feeling your slick and warm walls contract all around his cock. Milking him for every last speck of gratification he could offer you.

A moment couldn’t be classified as a simple impulse for procreation. No, he believed it went beyond the lust hanging in the air. An indescribable urge to mend your bodies as close as possible, to becoming wholly one with one another. The thump of your heartbeat against the whir of a motor as they merge into a mantra.

Is this why humans crave physical intimacy?

Watching your loose face tremor and your teary eyes roll back. A painting no muse besides you could ever inspire. Leaning down, his lips brush away the glistening trails down your supple cheeks. Coaxing you through the throes of your orgasmic shudders. Until the light of consciousness returns to your half-lidden eyes.

The limitations of the human body expose themselves in the limpness of your limbs, unable muscles unable to budge besides the twitching aftershocks of bliss. Unable to fight against the weight of your eyelids for the first time in a while. You sink into the lull of slumber.

–-------------------------------------------------------------

Somewhere amid the driftless darkness a sensation brushes against your skin. Causing your lashes to pry open just ever so slightly, blurry shapes merging gradually to form the outline of a man. One who’s tendering wiping a soft towel over the sweat drops littering your skin. The soft glow of his emerald gem illuminated the devotion of his crafted face. You wonder where he learned about such practices after the rite of sex. Did he pull it from the Akasha? The internet? Or maybe from a book hidden along the shelves of a private library.

You couldn’t stifle the giggle roused from your musing. Alerting him as his hands halt.

“Did I wake you?” Baritone voice hushed.

Face still pressed into a pillow you shake your head, hair messy and a smile spreading across your soft features.

“Just musing to myself where you learned such things,” you giggle.

“This is typical behavior of lovers from my understanding.” Teal gaze observed the widening of your eyes which reflected him.

Perhaps he made too great of an assumption. Back in the margins of a kitchen, it was only his words. It’s best to get clarification now.

“Are we lovers?” He peers into your irises.

The glow of the gem embedded in his chest spreads its gentle radiance over two figures through the unbuttoned window of his wrinkled button-down. Carving the shape of you and him from the shadows of the silent room. Illuminating how your wide eyes crinkle up with adoration. Fighting against the fatigue of your limbs, you lean up to press your lips against the brilliance of his gem. After the amorous kiss ended, you proceeded to lean your forehead against his.

“You’re my lover, Alhaitham.” Your whisper ghosts over his face.

“Understood.” His foreheads pressing against yours as he accepts his new sentience.

The shape of your delicate fingers fitting into the space between his, intertwining as the moonlight reflects off gold and emerald.

The sky shrouds itself in its evening gown of deep navy and luminous glimmers, all the while a bashful moon covers herself away. Perhaps she hid herself away after she witnessed a sinful scene through a gap in the curtains. A private moment heavy with passion in the air like tender caresses.

“W-wait!” Stammering words just barely leaving your lips before another moan.

Alhaitham pulls his tongue away as he tilts his face to peer up from between your thighs, a trail of slickness connecting his lips and your pussy. The haze of your breathless expression reflected in teal irises.

“I-it’s t-too ah!-” A moan interrupts your protests as your head jolts back, his thumb continuing to circle your swollen clit.

“Much? I know you can take more,” he states before returning his lips to your dripping folds, lapping up each trickle.

He’s analyzed your body, its curves and cervices, each clench of your slick walls, and the pattern of your gasps. Skilled fingers learning the exact rhythm which made your legs tense and toes curl. Diligent tongue knowing where to tease to run shivers up your spine.

“B-but I’ve already c-came!” Your fingers tangle themselves into his tousled locks, a feeble attempt at pushing back the maddening flicks of his tongue and cruel strokes of his thumb that shot up your fried nerves. Report long forgotten under the haze of lust and lewd slurps imbuing the room.

And you can come again. Alhaitham has long picked up on the discrepancy between the words which fell from the same lips as those lewd sounds. Lips who couldn’t be as honest as your heaving and trembling body. Whining and writhing in his firm hold that it’s too much, yet your fingers entangle themselves deep in silver tresses pulling his impatient tongue deeper between your folds.

From the shivers racking through your trembling thighs, he anticipates another orgasm. However, the unholy cries have ceased. Intent eyes glancing up to uncover the causal factor, those naughty plush lips of yours pressing themselves shut. Crueling sealing away those ethereal harmonies from him.

Alas, just a small inconvenience doesn’t deter him. If those lips were the only barrier barring him from the privilege of hearing his deserved moans, then he’d simply make them crumble. Replacing his thumb with his lips, Alhaitham suckles on the swollen nub as your body jerks up.

Grip imprinting his fingers into your skin as they stop your pitiful attempts at locking out from heaven. The heaving of your chest jostling around your perked breast as they meet the cool night air.

His tongue teases and rolls your overstimulated clit around as his lips imprison it, a sweet torture. Your thrashes unable to prevent your head from going under the depths of pleasure. Thighs compressing around his face as they grow taut, hips bucking themselves against his relentless mouth, back lifting off the mattress as your final defenses crumble along with your sanity.

Limpness seeps into your now heavy limbs as your body returns to the mattress, but your eyes haven’t quite returned from seeing the back of your head. Still in the throes of cloud nine as his diligent tongue collects all your leaking nectar. The aftershocks of your orgasm force gasps and whimpers from your quivering lips.

To comfort your abused clit he places a tender kiss against it, a flinch in your hip resulting from the gesture. Alhaitham pulls away, eyes scanning the repercussions of his operation. Your chest steadily rises and falls as panting lungs find air again.

The rush of dopamine, endorphins, and oxytocin gradually disappears behind your drooping eyelids. Lashes slowly fluttering closed.

Glancing at the numbers displayed on a nearby clock, Alhaitham deems tonight a success as well. While the primary purpose of intercourse might be for reproduction, sex has additional benefits. One of them being an orgasm’s ability to decrease stress, resulting in the production of more melatonin. The chemical that’s making you burrow further in your pillow. A tactic he’s learned to exploit these past months. Well, he’s your lover now, it’s within his authorization to do such.

Carefully he slides your panties back up your legs, securing them on your hips as he trails a few touches along your soft skin. Following it up by pulling the covers over your frame, smoothing out a few wrinkles as your chest steadily moves up and down.

Just as he steps one foot away from the bed, a warmth encircles his wrist.

“Aren’t you coming to bed too?”

An artificial body needs no downtime under soft covers. Plush pillows and sheets serve no purpose to him. Yet, it’s a simple request. How could he reject it when it came from your pouting lips?

“In a moment, I need to return to my port first.”

The throes of slumber’s hold creeping upon you as your lashes fight to flutter open. With a soft hum, you release your hold.

His battery percentage was fine, but it was just for system maintenance. It’s strange how unfamiliar a room can feel after spending his nights by your side. Staring at the glass surface of his charging port, he wonders, in the future will there be a way for him to not leave your side even for a moment?

His dilemma remains. He’s got all the characteristics of a human. He’s developed a consciousness, he’s developed empathy, he’s developed love. Is his engineer body the only thing which stood in his way of obtaining humanity?

Is it possible for him to grasp onto humanity with his own mechanical fingers? A soft thud returns him to reality. Observant eyes caught the book that his foot had knocked into. Its worn cover has been lying abandoned on the floor ever since he took it from a dusty room.

Ah, it seems like he’s forgotten a task. Realistically, it won’t make a difference whether the book settles on a shelf tonight or in the morning. However, he never got a chance to read the journal’s contents. Curiosity being his rationale for performing a chore so late at night.

Flipping through the aged parchment, his eyes scan through each neatly written paragraph. Nothing more than a simple collection of ramblings and theoretical reflections typical of a journal.

Yet, something was poking the back of his consciousness, like the warning rattle of a locked door. Beseeching that it remains sealed. His eyes move to the next sentence regardless.

To ignore the pleas of safety to venture closer to the radiance of a star. Isn’t that what it means to be human? Is this what he must do to become one?

To achieve this impossible task, it sounds like you'll need to fool your own heart first. Although it may feel like a trick, self-encouragement may be the most important tool we have.

Alhaitham scans the paragraph again as he contemplates the message neatly written. Something unpleasant roused in his chest, as if those written words had encroached too close to his motor. The urge to frown tugs on his lips.

Not wanting to end the night with a bitter taste just at the edge of his tongue, he flips to another page. Covering that vexatious sentence behind a fresh sheet of aged parchment.

One must act on his own will and deal with anything that appears harmful in his eyes.

It’s quite straightforward advice, humans and androids alike would understand. Yet that strange inkling remained, continuing to brew somewhere from within. A phenomenon he couldn’t pinpoint. Thus, he turns the page yet again.

Every person should have something that they believe in and hold on to from beginning to end. Otherwise, it's easy to succumb to the vicissitudes of life and find yourself being led astray.

He recognizes those words, they’re words he’s recited before you one pivotal sometime ago. Why were they scrawled in some forgotten journal? It seems that he’s identified the name of this phenomenon brewing within him: deja vu.

Yet, his question only remains half-answered. Why were his words here? Who penned them down? The rapid flicks of paper resound off the blank walls as he scrutinizes each sentence, each paragraph, each syntax until he reaches the back cover of the aged journal. Question still remaining half answered.

Who was the author of his words?

His finger runs into a lump along the surface of the back cover, examining it closer, something was folded away just behind a parchment pocket. Soon a loose scrap of paper was felt along his fingertips, a folded-up post-it note of an emerald hue. Unraveling it just slightly, his eyes move along the familiar handwriting.

To the person who’s always meddling through my notes, did my written thoughts entertain you? Dear w-

The emerald scrap crumples in his hold. Deformed paper returns to its place before he snaps the covers closed. There’s no purpose in analyzing its contents, after all, they’re already programmed into him.

It was just now in this moment that Alhaitham had solved the dilemma he was assigned since the moment he awoke in that lab. He’s not a human, he’ll never be a human, he’s an abomination.

In the next moment, he found himself looming over the origin of his dilemma. Artificial teal glow honing in upon the steady breaths from the genesis of abomination. Standing over you as you were cradled in the comfort of slumber and soft sheets.

A pair of taut hands make their way to encircle your frangible neck. It wouldn’t take much, just a mere second to terminate the great sinner who defied mortality, the one who violated the terms of finality and ordinance of the gods.

So this is what you choose to do with the capacity of science and progress in your hands.

Was he just a toy for you? Something to fill the lull of this house for you? Just an experiment for you, but everything to him.

His fingers press into your warm skin, breaths uninterrupted as you remain within the blessing of a dream. Oblivious to the nightmare you’ve created. Or perhaps you were always aware, but choose to reflect back to him the manufactured image of him in those guiltless irises of yours.

Oh, what should he do with the monster sleeping so soundly under him?

His fingers refused to budge, hands disobeying the rationale which commanded them. His grip goes slack, limp for they couldn’t conclude their obligation. They couldn’t, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

It’s not a protocol, nor a restriction coded into him. No, for the laws of morality, this land, and heaven would’ve called for him to be an executioner. To charge the transgressor with the judgment they deserved. But, he couldn’t.

Every fiber of his counterfeit body refused to take the sword. The chains which bind his hands were much mightier than the commandments of gods, the restraints of love.

Thus, he’s nothing more than a prisoner in its hold. Bending to its whims, what else could he do? Removing his hands from your form as you continue to soundly sigh in the embrace of slumber. All he could do was lie down on a soft mattress and stare at the shameless sinner beside him.

A foolishly beloved monster.

Slow steps pad through the quiet halls, floor boards singing a hymn with your leisurely steps. Approaching the end of the hall where the humble library resides, the oak doorway finally framed him in clear view.

“There you are, Alhaitham.” You can’t help but sigh as your features soften.

He stood there with his starlight locks in the morning glow of a brilliant sun amongst the collection of books in the library. Just as he always has been.

Lifting his head away from the pages of the novel in his hand, he acknowledges your presence. He’s been heading here more often recently, right from the moment he leaves his side of the bed.

“Good morning,” he recites, steadfast eyes remaining unreadable.

Well, you suppose obtaining the title of a lover wouldn’t just overwrite the capriciousness of his mind. It’s just in his nature to be this way. This enigmatic lover of yours. Turning your attention to the cover that’s captured his focus.

“Frankenstein?” Your brow quirks up.

“Yes, the 1818 edition.” He closes the cover.

“Mmm, your interest seems quite piqued by that novel.” You wonder if that was the cause behind his frequent bouts of silent contemplation throughout the day.

“I suppose it’s because I’m still deciphering the intentions of this story.”

“That’s it?” A furrow now in your brows, a simple book has gotten the pinnacle of scientific progress stumped?

“Care to elaborate for me?” He turns toward you as your steps approach closer.

Handing over the worn object to your outstretched hand, you analyze each faded corner of the cover. Mind recalling the recollections of the acclaimed revolutionary piece of science fiction. Formulating your answer, you share your conclusions with him.

“The story has several themes, but the central principle is quite defined. To quote a few words from another, scientific progress makes moral progress a necessity; for man’s power is increased, the checks that restrain him from abusing it must be strengthened.”

You reconnect your gaze with him, wondering if your explanation was satisfactory enough. Glancing down between the worn cover and your awaiting eyes, Alhaitham straightens his posture.

“So you knew the moral of this story.” A glint in his glass eyes.

“Well, I’ve read this book before,” you sigh at his inquest.

“Then why didn’t you learn from it?”

At that moment, the proud sun shielded itself away behind a cloak of clouds. Plunging the quiet library into a chill. How strange, why do you feel cold when a brilliant star of your creation stands right next to you?

“Alhaitham, you’re acting strange.” You take a step back as his scrutinizing gaze follows. Unaware of the crumbling edge approaching.

“How much longer will you continue to deceive yourself, wife?”

And that was it. The foundations of this mirage gave away under you, plunging you with much velocity into the depths of an unforgiving ocean. Tides that waited patiently to drag you down under.

Do you remember what happened that day? Do you really remember? The truth floods your being, engulfing every chasm of your mind.

–----

“Did you jump at the opportunity of a trip to avoid mopping the floors?” You glared up at your husband.

“My, how low do you think of me?” He glanced down, a wisp of mirth evident on his lips.

“Well, instead of doing chores, you’d be chaperoning your in-laws around Fontaine. A Poor trade-off in my opinion, dear husband.” A hand firmly placed on your hip in a defiant stance as the murmur of the crowded airport moved around your figures. An ever so mocking tone toward the end.

“A fair assumption, dear wife. However, I’ve taken the initiative to book a tour for your parents, thus they won’t need my assistance. I’ll be free to browse some of the latest ruins and research from the Institute in the meantime.” The ghost of a smirk grew ever so obvious with each word, mirroring your emphasis of titles.

Ah, this was your loss. It seems that your husband had it all planned out as usual when he offered to take your spot on the plane. The perfect excuse to use up some paid time off, while also scoring a trip to satisfy his own whims.

Your shoulders deflating in defeat as a deep sigh leaves you. You rest your head against his chest, the crowds moving around you in the bustling airport.

A private microcosm of him and you as he stands still, shielding you from the push and hustle of travelers trying to reach their terminal in time with his robust frame.

A bright clink of two rings pressed against each other lost in the noise.

“Why can’t you just stay?” You whispered into his shirt.

“How strange, the woman who married me to secure a home and mortgage wants me to stay now.”

You huffed into his in exasperation at him bringing up the origins of your union, an atypical start of a marriage.

His chest moved with a sigh, larger fingers intertwined with yours. The spaces fitted together, as he held them in his tender hold.

“They can’t refund it. If I take your seat and recompensate them, your parents aren’t likely to hold this matter over your head.” His deep voice expounded.

All you did was sigh, because he was right. Of course, he was. A sour taste on your tongue as you recall the interaction with your parents just a moment ago before you ran into the comfort of your husband.

“Besides, it’d be refreshing for me to scribble down some travel logs, it'd be a shame if my wife runs out of material to snoop through.”

“I just like looking at your handwriting,” you tutted, hiding your pout as you turned your face away.

The same excuse you used whenever you copied off his notes in a lecture hall and when your outstretched hand asked for them over a study table.

A silly habit of yours, perhaps in your mind it made sense. If you could read the words of a genius, then maybe you could learn to be like one.

“Of course, of course.” A smirk evident in his voice.

You refused to meet his gaze, cheeks a bit heated from this habit of yours being exposed. You thought you were always careful with returning his journal back where he placed it. Averting your eyes to the bright screens displaying departing flights. A few minutes left before the announcement comes. Your grasp on his hand tightened.

His thumb soothes your skin, leaning down closer to you.

“Besides its advanced technology, Fontaine is also famous for its toymakers. I should pick a few up for our future child, no?”

Blinking you as you glance back up at him. His teal irises reflect you as his expression softens just as yours did.

A room hidden away from the prying eye of nosy parents, its walls decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. An assortment of items bought in advance for a child in the future. Stemming from whispers while recovering amongst dampen sheets in a room heavy with passion.

Talks of the future, once this troublesome Ph.D. is finished and your position in a lab secured, a discussion of whether a child would inherit more of his traits or yours.

Planned for the future, of course, now's just a bit too busy. However, it didn’t stop you from taking the initiative to furnish a spare room. A chaotic collection of cosmic influences along with an assortment of books meshing together to create an adoring space.

But the soft smile on your lips was still tense. Teal eyes took note of that, pulling you closer amidst this microcosm, a moment so subtle it went unnoticed by the attention of passer-byers.

“It’ll just be for a week,” his voice resonated in his chest. “Then I’ll come back and build that bassinet as my wife wishes.”

Finally, the glimmer he yearned to see returned to your eyes.

“You better, the box has been sitting unopened for a week now,” you huff with a smile.

He only hummed in acknowledgment as the ring of a loudspeaker resounded through the chatter. Announcing the final call for passengers boarding the flight to the Nation of Hydro. Casting a glance toward the terminal, he gave your hand one more squeeze before they reluctantly untangled from one another.

“You should get going now.” Your eyes reflect him.

He hums one last time, turning in the direction of the terminal where your parents were. Just before his tall figure was lost in the sea of passing bodies, your lips couldn’t keep themselves pressed together any longer.

“Haitham!” You called out.

The fluorescent lights reflected off his starlight hair as he turned back around. Connect teal eyes with yours. But not another word left your lips, no they’d simply be drowned out in the clammer of strangers. Besides, it’s just too public to say such words aloud.

Thus, you slowly close your eyes, opening them back up just as steadily with the soft curl of your lips. A motion he reciprocated with a slow blink of his own, a hint of a smile on his stoic lips. A wordless gesture kept a secret between only the two of you, a silent ‘I love you’. It was all you needed to convey this message to each other.

He continued on his path to the terminal as you stood amongst the crowd, watching him fade into the distance.

–----

So how did that moment turn into this? How did a trip that was supposed to only be a week turn into a news report? How did well wishes for a safe trip turn into coworkers and friends approaching you with nothing but sympathy in their words? Those vile, pitied stares directed toward your rigid frame.

You should’ve been the one on that plane.

Only about 1 in about 11 million. A 0.00001% chance, a nonzero chance.

Plans no matter how intricate or detailed, their success all hang on a single thread, one factor unable to be cultivated by human hands: Luck.

Oh how cruel they are, those capricious hands of gods. Not even the leniency of returning to a lonely planet the corpses of their stars. Traces of a beloved star left to sink and disappear in a cold, salty grave. Never to return to the surface.

You and Alhaitham were two simple dots in this world, so why did they target you two? Why steal him from you with their cruel hands? Why steal him and leave you abandoned with nothing but the memory of the warm starlight?

You had so…so much love left inside you. But it went stagnant. Sitting there rotting until it poisoned you, throwing you into feverish delirium. If the gods abandoned you, then you resolved to abandon them right back.

You’ll bring back your star, you’ll defy the edicts of the gods with your bare hands. You’ll sin the same way a god does.

“Casting aside your morals, you allowed the dead to walk again through a sham imitation, congratulations. ” His voice matched one which could only come from an engineered throat.

This was a fool's errand.

For how could a mere human ever be arrogant enough to believe they could best the gods? This was the hindsight you lacked. Perhaps what’s separated you from the gifted and blessed geniuses? Something geniuses knew but you couldn’t see.

The accursed doctorate on the wall meant nothing, you were nothing but a mad fool.

Perhaps, if you were a genius, a true and born genius, you’d know what to do. You’d know how to mend this dilemma. You’d know what to do instead of letting your vision be blurred by imprudent tears as your throat could only choke out,

“I’m sorry.” Words you knew couldn’t turn back the hands of a clock which only knew how to tick forward.

“But now what?” Deep voice unmoved by your wasted words.

You didn’t dare meet his stare, for you feared you’d catch a glimpse of the bitterness behind them as he cursed you deep down in the whir of his motor. You could only stay silent as tears ignited in your eyes, waiting for him to continue with his damnation.

“In a climate like Sumeru’s, it would take approximately 25 years or so for a body to fully decompose, bones reduced to nothing but nutrients for the soil. Silicone alone takes 500 years, a metal frame could take another 500.” He knows now that he’s not a human, he was never meant to be.

He’s a crude replacement. An abomination who’ll remain until the day the night sky flickers out.

“You brought him back, only to condemn him to eventual loneliness. Only to curse ‘me’ to live the next aeons without you”

An irresponsible and shameless villain who disregarded consequences until those consequences came to collect their dues. It’s time that you faced your punishment.

A hand cups around your stiff face, gradually turning your head until you see your reflection along glass irises.

“How will you atone for your sins now? How will you take responsibility for making me fall in love with you?… my very own Dr. Frankenstein.” His voice restrained.

Yes, a story you’ve read before. A lesson unfolded out in front of you, and yet you somehow forgot. Or perhaps, you simply averted your eyes from the moral of the story while simultaneously committing the same transgression. Did you think yourself better than the fictional lunatic?

The atrocity of giving life, only to eventually abandon it, leaving it to watch the stars burn out in a cage of harsh fluorescent lights and white lab coats.

The millions of mora poured into his development, the materials which construct his form, and the proprietary technology which gives him thought. Did you believe even for a moment that the prideful Fontainian Research Institute and the arrogant Kshahrewar Darshan would simply hand over such an investment?

To allow their expenditure to follow you to eternity?

You couldn’t live without him, but now he’ll have to live without you.

Oh, what shall you do now? Oh, what can you do now? Did you even know where to begin? How did the story of Frankenstein end? How would she have written the ending of this scene?

When human rational meets its limits, when its capacity isn’t enough to compute all possible prospects. Humans look towards something that could, technological advancements made to further humanity.

“W-what do I do now?” You prompt, no, you beg.

Watching the rivulets roll down your cheeks, leaving a path of glimmering desperation, he ponders to himself:

When you first proposed this project to the Akademiya and Institute, when you detailed the specifications of his body and face, were they aware of your true intentions?

Rather than this being an experiment to see if an android could cross the threshold of humanity. Maybe those researchers were curious to see how far one could fall in the paroxysm of grief.

You became the perfect test subject to observe.

But now that the curtains were pulled back, what shall you do about the aftermath? There was never a precedent for a transgression of this scale. No holy commandment ever details a rightful punishment for this sin. No historical data he could infer from.

“I don’t know,” he answers you truthfully.

It’s just an untold void like the vacuums of space. No results generated in his mind, leaving the both of you suspended in oblivion. Maybe that was the punishment in itself, stuck in the purgatory of the unknown. Perhaps this was the punishment bestowed upon a foolish sinner.

Upon hearing your sentencing, your knees begin to buckle under the weight of the judgment from above. Resigned grasp clinging to his hand still cradling your face, his engineered frame not budging in the slightest. Voice staggered as only pitiful and broken apologies resonate in a vacant house.

All he could do was wipe those scorching droplets off your cheeks as they seared his skin. Was this feature also programmed into him by your hands? If so, then he muses to himself:

Did the hands who penned down those words also revert into nothing more than a pathetic fool at the mere sight of your tears? Did his chest also grow heavier with each choked sob that left you?

Perhaps the chains which bind his hands tethered yours just the same. A pair of foolish sinners.

Thus, he’s resolved himself to be thrown into the unmerciful clutches of this untold purgatory right alongside you. Even if he’s the only one to remain in the end.

To be human is to be unthignkably foolish after all. As long as he could still hold onto a wisp of you for the inevitable aeons.

It’s fine.

Fin~

2K notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 1 month

Text

just thinking about bucky and you leaving a mission together on one of the jets.

it was a grueling mission, nearly losing a dozen civilians and even bucky himself because you simply weren't fast enough.

so, you needed to feel closer to him. you needed to feel him... all over.

"jamie?" you whispered softly as he steered the jet home.

"yes, doll?" he tilted his head back a little, signaling for you to come closer to him.

you didn't reply, you merely stepped closer before throwing one leg over his lap and sitting in it, straddling his meaty thighs. meeting no resistance, you threw your arms around his neck, burrowing your nose in the crevice between his jaw.

"i'm here," he sighed, his flesh hand beginning to rub along your back. "we're okay."

"need you," you ground down against his pelvis, feeling his dick twitch in his pants, growing harder by the second. "please? wanna be close."

"fuck, baby," his hips thrust up to meet your eagerness. "wanna be closer than this?" you nodded eagerly. "you're gonna have to be a big girl... do it yourself until i can set autopilot."

you whined in his ear, gently biting his earlobe, "but i-"

"no 'but's," he sharply interrupted. "there's too much chatter and traffic up here right now. if you can do it yourself right now, i'll make it up to you once it's clear. that's a promise."

it was your turn to sigh before you began to grind against him even harder, seemingly having made up your mind.

your breathing grew heavier in his ear once he was fully hard, providing much better stimulation for your throbbing clit. you reached between your two heaving bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his pants before simply grinding against his hard cock with no barriers between you.

you were so wet, he nearly slipped inside accidentally. his head would catch perfectly on your clit, eliciting the prettiest squeals from your mouth.

"that's it, my pretty girl," his hand that was once rubbing your back went between you to rub your clit. "let me hear how good you feel. i can already hear how wet you are. do you like getting off on my dick like this? rubbing against me like a pretty little slut? my pretty little slut, huh?"

"your pretty little slut, yes," you nodded against his chest before you rose to your knees, this time lining his cock against your entrance before slowly lowering yourself on him. "yours, all yours."

"atta girl," he chuckled with a growl, his dick twitching inside you once you were lowered all the way. "so wet for me, my perfect girl."

you began to ride him leisurely, enjoying how close you felt to him. you were able to feel his pulse in his cock, radiating from your core to your heart. part of you swears your heart was matching his quick pace.

"just like that," he threw his head back momentarily before quickly remembering why he wasn't properly fucking your brains out and went back to focusing on the task in front of him. "such a good slut for me," he felt you clenching around him before your rhythm faltered. "are you close? i want you to cum when i tell you to," he felt you nodding against his shoulder as his pace barely sped up on your clit. "love feelin' you squeeze me like this baby. love when you listen to me so well. such a good girl for me," you were getting closer.

"please? so close," your breath hitching wasn't the only sign you had, your pussy was gripping him like a vice.

"i know, baby," he chuckled. "i feel it. wanna cum with you. just a little longer," he began thrusting up to meet your hips. a few more perfectly timed bounces and he was ordering you, "cum for me. i want you to cum all over my fucking cock."

with a scream, your entire body was slumped against his, going slack from how powerful your orgasm was.

"oh my-fuck! keep going! keep going!" you begged him as he continued to fuck up into you as he came, his cum painting your walls.

"so fucking good, 's so fucking good," bucky kept muttering, talking you through your high.

he stayed inside of you as the two of you caught your breath. after 10 minutes, the traffic must've cooled down because he kept your legs wrapped around him as he stood, walking you over to one of the cots they had set up in the jet.

you were so exhausted, all you remember is him cleaning up the mess between your thighs, him whispering how strong and wonderful you are. him whispering how much he loved you, and that was all you needed to fall into a peaceful rest.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes smut #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x avenger!reader #bucky x fem!reader #bucky smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au #smut

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zhongrin · 6 months

Text

caution: these toys aren’t kids-friendly

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, wriothesley, al haitham, kaeya

◇ tags ◇ minors dni, afab!reader, fem!reader, toys (duh), improper use of geo (thanks crys), dragon!li (because..... are you even surprised?), edging (zhongli, wriothesley), 'little one' used (zhongli), handcuffs & collar (wriothesley), 'puppy' and 'slut' used (wriothesley), shibari (al haitham), sex machine (kaeya)

◇ a/n ◇ an offering before wrio's banner drops. was debating on releasing this today or the end of this week, but..... wrio come home please i am begging

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

the addition of toys in your bedroom was something you both had discussed beforehand. typical of zhongli, to draft a contract detailing all the things you were both comfortable and not comfortable doing in the bedroom, right after you mentioned that you were ready to be physically intimate with him.

you really should have read the fine print in that contract carefully.

“- my love?”

“h-huh?”

you dazedly looked up at your husband, feeling your already-warm cheeks getting warmer at the expectant look that he and another man were giving you.

was he talking to you? what was the question? where the hell were you again?

“hm, my apologies, it seems like my wife isn’t feeling well. perhaps we will revisit your establishment at a later date, mr. curator. i truly do apologize for the inconvenience.”

you were not even sure what the other party said. all you could hear was the smooth baritone of your husband’s voice. all you could think was how good he could make you feel with that eloquently speaking mouth and lithe tongue of his, those long slender fingers, the two girthy, veiny, deliciously ridged shape of his-

that same voice was now whispering just slightly above your ears, and to others it must have looked like you were both a very loving couple; a husband hunched over his wife, supporting her and bringing her to the nearest shade in this hot weather while lovingly murmuring sweet nothings into her ears - because what else would the gentlemanly mr. zhongli whisper into his dearest spouse?

literal filth, that’s what.

“my my, the amount of slick running down your thighs, darling,” he chuckled as he let you rest against the cooling shades by the side of a building, his gloved fingers trailing up your inner thigh behind your skirt to gather the essence of your drooling cunt, “how scandalous. had i were just a second too late, people would have noticed the suspicious trail of wetness on your leg despite the lack of rain or anything of sort-”

“want you,” you babbled, brain stuffed full of cotton as you tried to press yourself against him, “n-not enough, want more!!”

“was the toy i personally created just for you not enough, hmm? how greedy,” he was fully taunting you now, amused by the sparks of arousal in your voice and in the short bursts of your breathing, “didn’t you say you could wait until we get home, dear? i’m afraid our abode isn’t some decrepit back alley, now, is it?”

“no, no, now, now,” you whimpered like a saddened puppy, trying to grind on his thigh, the soft vibration of the little geo construct within your walls providing pleasure which made your insides clench, but they fell short of pushing you over that precipice.

“you’re so impatient.”

you gasped as the object inside you suddenly whirred into life, pressing against the right spots and pulsing with a powerful energy you couldn't describe. your cunt clamped around it, more slick pouring down and dripping onto zhongli’s slacks, your cries muffled by your lover who had locked his lips onto yours, tongue inviting you to a sensual dance as your senses were drowning in mind-bending pleasure. his scent engulfed you and the tender fondles of his hand on your thigh contrasted with the passionate kiss you shared, and all you could think was how much better it would feel to have him inside you - oh, even just one of his cocks would do at this point. anything that could fill you up so nicely and bully onto your sweetest spots as your husband’s growls echo right beside your ear - as he marked, mated, and bred you full of his-

and then suddenly he pulled away, shattering your daydream completely. the vibrations returned into an annoying hum, and tears threatened to spill from your eyes as zhongli fixed his tie and your rumpled clothes, his touch sending electric jolts whenever it brushed against your heated bare skin. he gave you a deceivingly kind and patient smile, amber eyes drooping in dark lust yet his movements were as refined as ever.

“come on then, little one. let us go home so i can take care of you properly, yes?”

wriothesley hummed as the metals clicked into place. the view before him was making his cock twitch and throb; the way your face was smushed against the pillow, the dip of your bare back and the roundness of your rear, the way your legs spread open and wrists cuffed with his signature handcuffs… and most of all, your bare cunt in all its drooling mess, completely exposed to him as he rubbed his leaking tip on the sodden slit.

whines and pleas and begs escaped your lips but he paid them no mind. you gave him full control when you agreed to be restrained in this position with the new cuffs he had gotten you. the leather looked ethereal against your wrists, and the way it matched so well with the collar on your neck, embellished with his insignia? truly the most divine sight.

the pleased noise escaping his throat was akin to a growl as he slowly pushed into your heat, his smirk widening as he felt you tighten and tremble. the slow drag of his girth against your walls was driving you insane, but the man refused to acknowledge your desperate ‘more’s. instead, his hand crawled down your stomach from behind, and you felt a cold finger press onto your swollen, burning-hot clit, ripping a surprised and needy squeal from you.

the appendage circled slowly, the cold of cryo making his action feel even more pronounced, as the blunt tip of his shaft slowly kissed the deepest part of you with sensual and rough snaps of his hips. the wet sounds coming from the minimal movements were a testament to how aroused and desperate you were for release.

“look at you, puppy… so wet you’re leaking. how dirty,” he drawled as he continued to stimulate both of your sensitivity, watching intently as your ass and thighs rippled with how your body shook and from his hard but short thrusts, “you feel so good, though… i can fuck this tight pussy for hours on end. would you like that, puppy? will that finally satiate my needy little slut? will you finally learn to behave when you’re so overstimulated, all you can do is cry for my cock and beg for my cum?”

the duke smirked when your cunt clenched at his words. even without seeing how you were nodding frantically, it was enough of an answer to him.

“guess we’ll have to find out… but don’t worry - i don’t expect you to learn your lesson in one session.”

‘it’s not like you’re losing anything by doing this’ he said. ‘shouldn’t take that long’ he said. ‘just enough to sate my curiosity’ he said.

well, firstly, al haitham was, as always, correct. but apparently he was also a liar, and you had severely underestimated the curiosity of an esteemed scholar of one of the akademiya’s bests. maybe you should start paying attention to the books he read. how in the world had you failed to notice that your boyfriend had been reading books upon books regarding the art of shibari?

and of course, like the scholar that he was, he wished to do some 'hands-on practice' now that he had committed the theory to heart. and who would be a better partner than you? a personal curiosity should be sated by personally trusted individuals, and you were perfect for the job.

“you said- you said it’s not gonna take l-long…”

he blinked up at your tied form through those pretty lashes with a hungry gaze which was far from being satiated. intricate knots and green ropes pressed against your skin, some digging insistently as you consciously struggled against the bindings. predatory eyes gazed upon you - a delicious prey willingly caught in a trap.

“time is a construct. it seems like our definitions of ‘long’ are vastly different. an unfortunate miscalculation i should have foresighted; my mistake.”

if the monotonous words weren’t enough indication of how he was clearly not feeling bad about his actions, his next action showed it. fingers lightly brushed against your chest, rubbing against the pebbled nipples as he admired the way your breasts looked against the bindings. your beloved raised his eyebrows when the slightest touch made you shiver and moan in anticipation, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips.

“ah, i see. i suppose it’s quite boring on your part to just stay there and be restrained like this. my apologies, it seems i have neglected to put myself in your shoes,” al haitham’s eyes soften and he presses a gentle kiss onto your forehead, his bare hands slowly inching towards the section of the rope which was particularly drenched with your arousal.

“let me make it up to you.”

“ready?”

“mm…”

“oh, snowflake,” kaeya chuckled and placed a reassuring kiss on your jawline, thumb caressing your chin comfortingly, “don’t you worry, it’s going to feel really good, and we can stop anytime. you know i would never do anything you wouldn’t like.”

“i know,” you mumbled and replied to your lover’s reassurance with a peck on his lips.

with an approving hum, the cavalry captain fiddled with the remote in his hand. the resounding beep was followed by a soft whirr of the engine turning on, and you gasped as the lubricated toy slowly entered you, before it retracted at the same speed and repeated the motion. a warm hand that contrasted against the cold mechanical motion reached under you to continue his ministrations from before, caressing your inner thigh sensually before feathering across your lower lips.

“mmhm- f-feels good…!”

“yeah?” your boyfriend chuckled as he continues to circle your clit with his experienced fingers, “think you can take more?”

you shivered and nodded. kaeya rewarded you with a kiss to your temple and soon enough you felt the machine speeding up a notch, thrusting into you moderately fast now, the sound of your wet arousal vivid in your ears and resonating within your shared bedroom, causing more warmth to explode on your face.

“ooh, look at that, you’re taking it so well. feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

with an agreeing whimper, you slumped against kaeya’s body, surrendering to his flighty touches which added warmth to the pleasurable but coldly mechanical toy.

“archons, you look so pretty like this…,” he crooned against your heated skin, eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief, “now, let’s see how long you’ll last before you start begging for my cock.”

#minors dni #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #afab!reader #fem!reader #genshin smut #zhongli #zhongli x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #kaeya #kaeya x reader #rin writes

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ioniiaa · 3 months

Text

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 5:

It was almost pure bliss.

Except many months later, you found out a secret of his one day.

He was an exceptional chef, you were always in awe of how he cooked such magnificent dishes every day.

But one day, you peeked out into the forest through the window in the living room and saw Alastor standing alone, covered in blood. Your first instinct was to run outside, so you did just that.

You rush to his side and ask if he's okay, and what had happened to make him covered in such copious amounts of blood.

He blinks a few times before oddly turning his head to you, breaking out of his stupor, "Oh my dearest (y/n), do not fret so. For I am only acquiring our dinner for tonight!"

You look down at what he is holding in his hands. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. A leg. A human leg. Your eyes then trail to the ground where you see a bloody human body, mangled beyond recognition. "This is.. dinner?"

A large grin appears on Alastor's face, "Quite right! This one should be enough to last us through the week!"

He looks at your face with an almost vicious look to his eyes, awaiting your response anxiously, not that he would let that show, anyways.

All you can manage is "Oh. Okay." Before you walk back inside the house without another word.

It's no exaggeration to say that your brain chemistry was permanently altered from that moment onward.

The situation felt so strange and bizarre, you didn't know what to think. Part of you knew that was he's been doing is extremely horrible and corrupt. It almost made you empty the contents of your stomach, it didn't feel real.

It didn't feel real, but suddenly some of Alastor's behaviors started to make sense. His picky taste for food...He never let you help with cooking, you had chalked it up to him being more of a perfectionist, but now... you know its more than that. He was hiding the fact that he was butchering and preparing human flesh, right in your very home, all this time.

But.. for some reason... all you could think about was how dedicated he was to providing a comfortable life for you, because he truly loved you. Everything he did every day showed you that you mattered and that you deserved only the best.

"But I still love him with all my heart... maybe I'm just as messed up..." Was a sentence your mind kept repeating to itself for quite some time.

Your appetite shrinks after the initial shock for a few days, but you were never one to skip meals or have your appetite be gone completely, even if you were sick. In this instance, you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse in this case.

The meals he made for you had never made you sick in the past, so your body was already used to eating his cooking, and he made such amazing food, carefully crafted with such love and attention to detail, you couldn't help but keep eating his delicious cooking, no matter how bizarre and immoral it was.

"I think I really am just as messed up..." The thought crossed your mind again, but thoughts were interrupted by a rare occurrence, a kiss on the cheek from Alastor as he set your plate down in front of you.

The fact that you never stopped eating his cooking and always thanked him for his food and hard work, even after knowing where the main ingredient comes from, solidified the fact that you were the one. You loved him even after seeing him all bloody, holding a dismembered corpse, and telling you it was dinner. It was this pivotal moment that he knew, that you were the one to be his beloved forever.

In the coming weeks, things went back to "normal". You were settling into the new normal, as Alastor didn't hide the meal prep like he used to, and seeing him bloody and bringing in mysterious cuts of meat into the house became a normal sight to you.

One night when you were going to see Mimzy, Alastor informed you that he was unable to escort you that night. You were a little disappointed, but he assured you it was okay for you to go, it was just that he had plans that he wouldn't divulge any information on, no matter how much you pressed him.

Little did you know, but that night, Alastor was out on the town shopping for the perfect ring to propose to you with.

-> Part 6

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ghouljams · 3 months

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I’m trying to sleep but all I can think about rn is Cowboy Ghost getting soft not only in the emotional sense, but also in the physical sense. You bet your ass Goose is feeding him three square meals a day because love is food and food is love. The transition is slow, but eventually his belly gets a little softer, forearms a little bigger. Ugh I just know he’d be so comfy to cuddle. Plus what better sign of recovery and safety than out eating his metabolism. I don’t know where this is going. I have the soft ghost brain rot.

God you're so right all the time.

Ghost definitely keeps his exercise regimen from his time in the special forces, routine is good for him and it wakes him up in the morning when all he really wants to do is stay in bed with you. Days when he can't resist that temptation he finds his feet dragging a little, his body itching to expend energy some other way. But it's the strangest thing, he notices it when it's already happened, he's gained weight. Ghost has very... neutral feelings about his body, it is a body and its his, which is fine. He isn't sure quite how this happened though. He puzzles over it as you set a full plate of eggs, bacon, grits, in front of him at breakfast. He puzzles over it when you hand him a nicely wrapped sandwich and a coke at lunch. He puzzles over it while getting seconds at dinner.

He's softer at the edges, around the middle. Out eatting his metabolism, or perhaps keeping pace with it. He isnt hungry all the time anymore. He's sleeping better. He feels better, more comfortable in his skin, more himself when you drape an arm over his chest in bed and cuddle closer to his warmth. You settle so comfortably on top of him, snuggle in like it's your job, he isn't sure he misses the hard edges. You've worn them down, reshaped and softened them like the waves gently lapping at stones along the seashore. It was slow enough he didn't notice until it had already happened: how much happier he is here with you.

Really he only takes silent notice of it, enjoys the softer lines of his body and the way you hold them, until his daughters come along. Until he has babies sleeping on his chest and he's glad there's some cushion for their little heads. Until they wrap their arms around him and smush their face against his stomach and he's glad to provide them some warmth. Until he spots one of their little fill in the blank school assignments, "my daddy is a cowboy because he eats a lot", and finds himself smiling. Softer in the places that count, healthier than he's ever been, and happier for it.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #x oc #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x oc #simon riley cod #ghost cod #oc: goose #cowboy!ghost #food is love and love is food #so fucking true #goose has been trying to feed this man since day 1 #she likes ghost as a bear and i support her #because i too want that man with some meat on him

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

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justtogetthrough · 10 months

Text

So I have a performance review coming up and for interest sake I pulled up last years out of fear of rating myself lower than I did then/indicating I’ve regressed in any way.

Reading through it is PAINFUL. If I ever go for an autism assessment, I’m bringing it with me for a very real life example of LOOK, look at what working is like for me with this fucking brain of mine. This self evaluation alone will tell someone all they need holy shit lol.

It’s pages upon pages of me describing social problems I’d had that year and various things I didn’t understand and was hella confused about (norms, expectations, why people act the way they do, various things I did that made people upset and not knowing why, etc) that I now know are definitely autism related but back then I attributed to me being dumb or dense or just mysteriously incapable. I’m so fucking oblivious in the reflections that I’m actually just probably very autistic, and social communication is a huge area of difficulty for me.

It’s weird filling it out this year. There’s a lot less confusion to write about. At some point in the last year I’ve shifted into treating myself as if I am autistic and it has made my life so much better and alleviated so much distress and suffering because I can let go of the things that used to make me fixate on the confusion and the need to understand and pick everything apart. This year’s review I’m just like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i am who I am and I don’t care that people respond negatively at times to my social incompetencies or my failure to mask some days. I’m honestly tired of fighting myself on these things all the time and releasing that has brought me peace. I don’t have the time or energy to spend 20 minutes adding fluff into single emails just to hope I avoid sounding direct or brash. If I’m emailing about a specific thing, I’m just gonna email about a specific thing and forgo whatever formalities I’m supposed to use because that drains me and I’m tired of it. My colleagues can fucking deal with it and focus on the task at hand so we can do our jobs and if they wanna think I’m rude then go right ahead. I have other things that require my limited energy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#it’s been an entire attitude overhaul that has really helped me in a lot of ways #last years review is embarrassing as fuck #I wonder if my manager knows about this lol. she’s very astute. I’m sure she does #the amount of time she spends helping me script conversations and discussing social norms? she has to realize I’m autistic #she offers me a really intense level of support I don’t think most people would #when I met that kid this week the meeting got canceled but I was already there after driving an hour and a half #I called her to be like what the fuck do I do at this home visit?! there’s no meeting to provide structure. what do I SAY #and she scripted out a bunch of things for me. like she always does. she knows I need specifics and she gives me lots of specifics #her patience for me being like this must come from her understanding that I’m not quite right lmao honestly she is amazing #the fact that four years in I still need her help with this stuff on a weekly basis. she has to know my brain ain’t typical.#but she takes the time and it helps me do my job and I rely on these scripts and her walking me through situations and it helps me work #so #this job doesn’t pay me enough but the natural accommodations are exactly what I need and damn this years review hits different 😂#personal #work stuff #probably autistic #sleeping pill cocktails

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museanddream · 2 months

Text

The Show || Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: Ona shows you how she likes to touch herself when you’re not around.

Warnings: 🔞 || masturbation, praise kink, bottom!ona

Word count: 2.4k

…..

“I want to watch you touch yourself.”

You see the exact moment Ona’s brain short-circuits behind her dark eyes. No doubt she’s imagining the scenario you’ve just suggested because her thighs clench together, leaving you to wonder exactly how turned on your girlfriend is before even being touched.

“Can you do that for me, beautiful?” you ask. “Show me how you get yourself off when I’m not around?”

Her cheekbones flushed a pretty shade of pink and her eyelids heavy with want, Ona nods and utters a soft, “Yeah.”

You reward Ona with a kiss, catching her lower lip between your teeth to pull another soft moan from her throat. Your hands find the hem of her t-shirt and tug it upwards, forced to break the kiss to do so but Ona lifts herself enough to help you pull it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra underneath and you’re treated to plenty of freckled skin but you want more. You slide your hands up Ona’s sides, enjoying the way her breath catches in her throat when you pass over a ticklish spot, stopping only to circle your thumbs over her nipples before tracing the same path down until you reach the waistband of her shorts, where you snap the elastic against her skin.

“These need to go too.”

Ona complies, thumbs hooking into the waistband as she pulls both her shorts and underwear down her legs and throws both to the side. She looks vulnerable, spread out on the bed without a shred of clothing, looking up at you with an expression in her eyes that seems to implore you to do or say something.

“Beautiful.” You appraise her body, running your hands over the smooth skin of her thighs until your fingertips tease at her hipbones. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. My beautiful girl.”

Ona shudders and whether it’s because she’s cold or painfully turned on, you aren’t entirely sure, but you do know that both of those things can be solved by kissing Ona until she melts into the mattress below her. You crawl up the bed and cover Ona’s body with your own, knees bracketed on either side of her hips, and press your mouth to Ona’s in an open-mouthed kiss. It’s imprecise but that’s what makes it better, knowing that Ona is already halfway to ruin when she hasn’t even been touched yet.

Your hands start to wander, exploring the vast amount of naked skin beneath you but deliberately avoiding the places that will provide Ona with any direct pleasure. You kiss her messily as your hands skate around the sides of her breasts, swallowing the moan that slips from her lips as you scratch your blunt nails over the ridges of her abs, before sending them right back up to her shoulders to start again. Your aim is to tease, to overstimulate her and drive her crazy to the point where she just has to start touching herself for you.

As your hands flit downwards again, dipping below her hipbones but still not between her legs, you feel rather than see the way that Ona clenches her thighs together, and you pull back from the kiss to smirk down at your girlfriend.

“Oh, is there something you want?” You can’t help but tease her. “You’re just desperate to put on a show for me, aren’t you darling?”

Ona’s response comes in the form of a delicious whine, her hips rolling upwards into yours, as much as they can while your body pins hers to the bed.

This might be your favourite version of Ona, lips kiss-swollen and long hair fanned out against the pillow, her dark eyes clouded with lust and barely coherent enough to tell you what she wants. It turns you on endlessly to know that you can reduce Ona to this state, that somebody who is so determined and assured in every other aspect of life can turn to putty so easily with just a kiss and a few dirty words.

“What do you want, baby?”

Ona is shy under your gaze, the confidence that she oozes on the football pitch gone in the bedroom, which is usually your domain to take charge, and you urge her on.

“Use your words, beautiful.”

“Please,” she gasps.

You reward her by letting one of your hands graze her nipple, and she arches her back into your touch, but you’re not satisfied with her plea.

“Please what?”

“Want you to touch me,” Ona rasps.

You lean forward, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of Ona’s neck, stopping just below her ear as your whisper, “I don’t think that is what you want. Can you try again for me?”

Ona tilts her head the other way in embarrassment and lets out a whine, then murmurs, “Want to show you how I touch myself.”

You’re not cruel enough to make her repeat the words again but louder, and instead reward her by saying, “Good girl.”

You roll off Ona’s body but reach for her face, cupping her jaw and tilting her head back towards yours as you join your mouths together in another kiss, somehow hotter and filthier than the last. You lick past the seam of Ona’s lips and she welcomes your tongue into her mouth with a gasp, one of her hands coming up to claw at your t-shirt as she tries to pull you even closer.

Your hand drops from her face, sliding down her shoulder and her arm as you continue to kiss, until you can loop your fingers through hers. Then you descend further, across Ona’s toned stomach and past her hips until you can nudge her hand between her own legs, finally releasing her fingers.

You whisper against her lips. “Go on. Show me.”

You’re close enough to hear the breath catch in her throat as her hand slides lower of its own accord and you lift yourself up, propping your weight on one arm as you gaze down her body in wonder and watch the hand that disappears between her legs. Ona’s eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted, a little crease of concentration between her eyebrows as her fingers dip lower.

She’s touched herself in front of you before, but it’s always been a part of something else. Quick fingers near her clit when you’ve already brought her close with your strap, or shaky camera angles over FaceTime while your hand works between your own legs. Never like this, never with the sole intention of showing you how she likes to do it, with every movement under scrutiny for your own viewing pleasure.

And what a sight it is.

“Fuck, Ona,” you praise your girlfriend. “You look so good like this.

Ona finds a bit of a rhythm and you watch the way that her wrist works as her fingertips dance around her clit. Your own hand finds her thigh, soft skin over hard muscle, and you gently draw her knee up to give yourself a better view. Her hips start to move in tandem with her hand, rocking against her fingers as her head falls back against the pillow.

“Tell me, Ona, what do you think about when you fuck yourself like this?”

“You,” Ona manages to gasp out, sliding her fingers lower and sinking them into herself once, twice, before she withdraws and returns their attention to her swollen clit. “Always you.”

Her fingers are shiny with arousal now and it takes a huge amount of willpower not to replace them with your own, loving nothing more than feeling Ona wet against your fingers or your tongue. But the sight of Ona grinding against her own hand is still evidence of how much she wants you, even indirectly, and you know this visual will be burned into your memory for a long time to come, keeping you warm on those lonely nights when you’re away with your respective national teams.

You want to hear more about Ona’s fantasies when she touches herself like this, so you press her for more.

“What do you think about me?” you ask, your fingers digging into her thigh as you continue to spread her open. “Do you imagine it’s me touching you? My fingers, my tongue?”

Ona keens at your words, hips rolling against her hand. You have to clench your thighs together, trying to quell your own arousal as you watch Ona give in to her own.

“You touching me,” Ona tells you, her voice low and hoarse. “You fucking me, your hands, your mouth. Telling me how pretty I am, how good I am for you.”

“You are pretty,” you tell her. “Fuck, Ona, if only you knew how beautiful you look for me right now. So good, showing me how you fuck yourself. Go inside for me, love. Show me how you pretend your fingers are mine.”

Ona obeys, hand moving further down as she slides first one finger, then two into her dripping hole. You can hear the wetness as her fingers pump in and out, imagining how warm and tight it must feel, watching in wonder as Ona’s hips cant against each thrust with greater abandon. Each moan that slips from her lips is like a symphony in your ears, the sight of her freckled skin flushed pink and writhing on the sheets more beautiful than the greatest works of art. Ona is simply divine as she takes her own pleasure, giving you a hundred new fantasies as she gives in to her own.

“It feels good inside, doesn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” is all Ona manages to grunt out in response.

“Imagine they’re my fingers,” you tell her. “Imagine it’s me inside you. Me filling you up, taking what’s mine.”

“Please…” Ona whines.

“Please, what?” you ask her, using the hand not on her thigh to sweep away some of the loose strands of hair plastered to her now sweaty temples.

“Please let me come.”

“Such a good girl,” you praise her. “Asking for my permission. Go on, cariño. Show me how you make yourself come.”

With two fingers still buried inside herself, Ona sends her other hand down to rub frantically at her clit and it takes just seconds for her to fall apart. Her back arches off the bed, her abs twitching and her legs shaking as she rides her way through tremor after tremor of pleasure and all you can do is soothe her, running your hands over every inch of her that you can reach as you press kisses to her neck and collar bones and murmurs words of encouragement into her hot skin.

“So beautiful. So good for me. Fuck, baby, I’m so turned on just watching you make yourself come like that.”

Ona lets out another cry as the final aftershocks ripple through her body, turning her head to nuzzle into your face as she slowly drags her hands away and the climax subsides.

She looks blissed out, cheeks pink and eyelids heavy. You reward her with another kiss, slower than before but no less messy, mostly due to Ona’s fucked out state beside you.

“Did that feel good?” you ask, running a hand over her stomach, her abs twitching with the sensitivity of your touch.

Ona doesn’t say anything, just lets out a hum that sounds like an affirmative, so you continue.

“Cause it looked good. Fuck, Ona, you did such a good job getting yourself off.” You entwine your hand with Ona’s, looking in awe at the stickiness that coats your joined fingers. “Look at what a mess you made, it’s almost like you don’t need me at all.”

You know exactly what you’re saying and Ona, especially in this state of post-orgasmic euphoria, is predictably needy.

“I do,” Ona rasps, her voice a little hoarse from moaning out her orgasm just a moment ago. “I always need you.”

“You do?”

“It’s always better when it’s you.”

You go on as if to kiss her again, nudging your nose against her, but stop just before your lips can connect.

“Yeah?” you breathe into the almost non-existent space between your mouths.

Ona nods, tiny movements of her head as her eyes go cross-eyed to stare back at you.

Your mouth curls upwards in a slow smile, a plan forming in your mind, and you press your lips not to hers, but to her neck. You start your descent, pressing kiss after kiss against Ona’s warm skin as you go. When you reach her tits you wrap your lips around a dusky nipple, and when her back arches off the bed in response, pressing herself further into your mouth, you maneuver so that you’re half on top of her again, slotting one of your legs between hers. You’re still clothed, though your legs are covered in just a skimpy pair of training shorts that you’re pretty sure are actually Ona’s, and you press your bare thigh against the heat between Ona’s legs.

She lets out a gasp, her hand coming up to find the back of your head and threading her fingers through your hair.

As your mouth leaves her nipple with a wet pop and continues the descent down her body, she seems to realise what your destination is and lets out a keening whine.

“I don’t think I can,” she tells you.

You shift your position again, taking advantage of the fact that Ona is still relaxed and slightly spaced out from the recent orgasm she gave herself to reposition her legs until you can settle yourself neatly between them.

“You can, baby,” you assure her, as your mouth moves over her stomach, the lines of her abs and hipbones guiding you lower towards the wetness between her legs. “You did so well showing me how you touch yourself. Let me reward you.”

True to your word, this is supposed to be a reward not a punishment and when your mouth finally reaches Ona’s cunt, you’re ever so gentle with her. You lick from bottom to top, keeping your tongue flat as you reach her clit, aware that she’s still too sensitive for anything precise. Humming at the taste, you focus more on cleaning up the evidence of her first orgasm than giving her another.

“Okay?” You lift your mouth only to replace it with a finger that teases at her entrance.

Ona exhales softly.

“Yeah.”

“You think you can come again for me?”

Ona pauses for a moment, just long enough that you worry she’s going to say no, but she eventually nods.

“Yeah.”

You press a kiss just above Ona’s clit.

“Good girl.”

…..

Part 2 coming soon…

#woso #woso smut #woso imagine #woso x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine

550 notes · View notes

moon-rivr · 4 months

Note

could you make a miguel x chubby reader where he’s the readers mortal enemy as he’s the ruler of a much larger kingdom but he wants an alliance for some totally random reason and the reader is completely oblivious to the reasoning behind his actions?

ik it’s dead specific but yh

yes, your majesty

pairing: king miguel o’hara x chubby princess reader

contents: mirror sex, doggy, breeding kink (if you squint), and arranged marriage

author’s note: so this wasn’t exactly like the request (i’m sorry) but i hope you enjoy regardless :)

word count: 4.7K+

Sounds of screaming and agony awoke Miguel up from his slumber, springing up in his bed covered in a cold sweat. If he tried hard enough, he could usually hear the word 'help!' escaping from his brother's mouth. The sounds had been engraved in his mind for so long that he could usually fall asleep soon after the dreams, but the sweet relief of sleep didn't hit him no matter how much he tossed and turned. He'd been so lost in his mind that he'd forgotten about the woman laying down next to him, her presence providing no comfort towards the situation.

"Sire, sorry to disturb your sleep but your father wishes to have a word with you," one of the maids called out, her fingers gently tapping against his door. "I'll be right there," Miguel responded, rubbing his hand over his eyes as the sun peeked through the white silk curtains. He got up from his bed, pulling on the first pair of pants that he could find before taking out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the night?" he asked the woman laying on the bed, her eyes barely getting adjusted to the light. She looked visibly disappointed that he was pushing her away but she was quick to hide her reaction.

"Two hundred," she responded, brushing her hair off to the side as she zipped up the dress she'd worn last night. "I trust that this won't get out to the press," he warned her, passing her three hundred dollar bills before walking back to his closet to get a shirt. Once he finished making himself presentable, the woman had already left without another word. Miguel walked down the halls of the palace, the portraits of him and his brother haunting him as he walked to his father's office. Before he had the chance to knock, his father had already told him to come inside.

The walls of the room seemed to be closing in as Miguel looked over at his father, meeting his sharp green eyes. "Sit down, we have a lot to talk about," his father motioned him to the seat in front of his desk, Miguel’s feet begrudgingly taking him to the spot. "I hope you know how expensive these little habits of yours are getting. You think that you're being sneaky but you're not," George started off, not bothering to look over at Miguel anymore as he started reading off a report. "I don't see how it's a concern. The press doesn't know anything about them," Miguel responded, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back on the chair.

"It will be a concern when you're engaged," his father deadpanned, finally looking up from the report at him. Miguel couldn't help but start laughing at the absurdity of the situation, his chuckles dying down after he saw the look on his father's face. "Engaged? And to who?" Miguel decided to entertain the situation, even if he was certain he wouldn't go through with it. "The youngest princess of Nova Atlantea," George responded, his disgust evident at the way that he even uttered the words. Miguel took a couple seconds to let it register in his brain, laughing once more as he stared at his father. You can't expect me to marry her. The kingdom has Gabriel under captivity if you recall."

"Which should be enough incentive for you to get married to my daughter," the king from Nova Atlantea bellowed, King James, walking in and sitting next to Miguel. Miguel glanced over at him, motioning him to continue with the statement. "Your kingdom has plenty of resources to offer, from military equipment to natural resources, while we have your brother. I’d say it's a pretty even deal," the king added, a devilish smile appearing on his smile after he finished speaking. Miguel’s teeth grinded together, looking back at his father for some kind of backup to no avail.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought about what the two men were telling him, looking down at the floor like he wished for it to open and shallow him up. “I do have one request for the marriage. I’d like for my daughter to remain blissfully unaware of what's taking place here. Make her believe that you've been longing for her since you first saw her or something," the king spoke up, making Miguel look up. Even though the idea of marrying his rival filled him up with inexplicable rage, he was also aware that it was his fault that Gabriel had been captured. "I suppose that sounds like a fair arrangement then."

Miguel hesitated to sign the treaty that was placed in front of him a couple minutes later, his hand shaking as he held the pen in his hand. His handwriting came out sloppy as he essentially signed off his freedom, locked down to the duties of the kingdom. "How do you feel about coming to dinner later? I’d love to have you as a guest," the king told him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. It was more of an order than a request, but Miguel still found himself nodding along to what the king was saying. He waited for the heavy footsteps to fade away, going off to his chamber to analyze the situation in a more clear light.

Miguel had spent most of the day in his bed, tossing a ball up at the ceiling as the wheels in his head turned to figure out a way to get out of the situation. Unfortunately, the whole arrangement was bound by printed words thus bounding him as well to fulfill his part of the deal. Even if he was doing this to free his brother from the prison he'd been forced in, he couldn't help but think about what you would think of his deception. He got up when one of the servants came in, putting a suit down on the corner of his bed for the dinner. He begrudgingly got out of bed, running a hand through his hair while he walked into the bathroom to get ready.

You were in the middle of getting ready for the dinner, your father telling you to dress up beforehand. One of the servants came in, almost buzzing with the news that she had to share with you. "Your majesty, King O’Hara from Nueva York’s going to be at the dinner. Just so you're prepared," she told you, buttoning up the top of your dress while you viewed your appearance in the mirror. You'd never been too interested in the whole diplomacy of the kingdom, being the youngest out of your siblings, but you were aware of the fact that the kingdoms hated one another.

Your mind was running on overdrive as you walked down the stairs, seeing the king already standing there and holding his hand out for you to grab. "Your majesty," Miguel greeted you, his sultry voice melting like butter in your ears. You returned the acknowledgment, walking with him to the dining room. Your father had been frustrated after you ran off every possible suitor that he presented to you, but you never thought of him to be so desperate to seek out an alliance with the kingdom of Nueva York. The dining room was a paradox in itself, a massive room with more than thirty seats but yet only you two and your father were present in the room.

"Pass me the salt, please," your father told Miguel, thanking him once he'd gotten what he'd requested. You looked over at Miguel, the only tell that he was annoyed was the vein bulging in his forehead. You decided to break the silence, wondering why your father and Miguel were acting so cordial around one another. "Excuse me father, but why is the king of Nueva York here?" You spoke up, taking the white cloth from your lap to wipe your mouth. "I'm glad you asked, actually. He's here because the two of you are scheduled to get married by the end of the month," your father responded, your face immediately dropping at the bombshell he'd dropped.

While you'd heard about your siblings getting along with their arranged suitors and some of the romance novels you'd read presenting the idea that love was possible in those arrangements, the idea wasn't something that thrilled you in the slightest. "I thought the kingdoms hated one another," you elaborated, hoping that your father had a temporary lapse in judgement and would be reminded of their positions. "I'm aware of the previous rivalries that there might've occurred. But me and the king are willing to push those aside and unite the kingdoms as one," your father responded, speaking to you like you were one of the multiple news reporters he had to deal with rather than his daughter. "And what if I say no?"

Your father placed the fork he was holding down with force, glaring at you while Miguel was busy cutting into his piece of steak. "The deal is signed. There's no room for you to say no without a bloodshed that you'll end up being responsible for," your father told you, a finality to his voice as he spoke. You decided to remain quiet for the remainder of the dinner, your eyes occasionally drifting off to look at Miguel. You could see that he wasn't exactly eager to go along with the marriage either, but he was playing the facade very well for your father.

You headed out to the balcony after dinner, looking out as the stars shone throughout the night sky. It was the one place in the kingdom where you could see the clarity of the night, no light pollution affecting the view. You jumped a little when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder, turning around to face Miguel. He stood next to you, watching the stars by your side before turning to look at you after a while. "I'm sorry that this marriage isn't exactly what you wanted, your majesty. But I think we can get through this whole ordeal much easier if we try our best to just get along," he spoke up, just loud enough for you to hear.

"I suppose. But you'll have to stop calling me 'your majesty', my name works just fine," you responded, looking over at him. The way that the moonlight shone across his features and the way that his eyes almost seemed to compete with the stars made you realize that maybe falling in love with him wouldn't be the worst thing in the universe. At least, from the physical aspect. "What do you like to do? Just so I have an idea of what to do for our date tomorrow," he told you, his hand snaking its way down to your waist as he held you close to him. "Most of what I do is solely for the purpose of benefiting the public view of the royals. But I’d like to go out for a picnic with you if that's something you'd be willing to do."

The two of you kept talking for most of the night, simply getting to know one another and you found yourself not hating the encounter completely. While you weren't head over heels for what he shown you today, you were interested in uncovering more details about him and his life. He left the castle after the lights had been turned off, leaving you out in the balcony with your thoughts. You looked down at him as he walked through the castle grounds, waving over at him once he turned around. If his eyes didn't beat the splendor of the stars, his smile while he waved back at you certainly did.

A loud knock on your door awoke you the next day, one of the servants poking their head through your bedroom door. "Your majesty, sorry to disturb your slumber but King O’Hara is downstairs waiting for you," she announced, shutting the door after she finished speaking to let you get ready. You got up from the comfort of your sheets, walking into the bathroom to get ready for the day. Your mind began running through all the different possibilities of what was the king's intention through going with this, your mind going back to the fact that his brother was a prisoner in the castle's gallows.

Miguel ended up taking you to the lakeside in his kingdom, a blanket set up with some food on it. You figured that you would disclose the information about his brother's whereabouts, not wanting to force him into the marriage despite the document your father mentioned. "You're agreeing to this because my father promised you Gabriel’s freedom, correct?" You inquired, watching as his brows furrowed before he schooled his expression to return back to normal. He didn't say anything to confirm or deny your suspicions, but he didn't really need to.

"I can show you where's located after we're done with the date, I don't feel comfortable holding someone's life on the line just for the sake of marriage," you told him, pouring in a bit of the champagne he brought into the glass. "You don't have to do that," he spoke up, his voice drifting off with the wind with how quiet he was being. "But I want to. My father tends to make agreements without going through with it," you added, handing him a glass of champagne. Though the conversation from earlier lingered, you ended up enjoying the rest of the evening with him by the lakeside.

The two of you ended up at the palace a couple hours later, your heels clicking on the stairway down to the basement. Miguel followed behind you, staying as quiet as possible just in case that the guards were present. You knew that the guards were out on their break but you couldn't help but be amused at the sight of the giant of a man sneaking around like a mouse. You grabbed the keys from one of the drawers, guiding him to the cell that Gabriel was currently being held. While most of the people that were captured in the castle deserved their fate, Gabriel had been caught for running around in the kingdom as a teenager.

You opened the door to his cell, watching as Gabriel’s gaze adjusted to the lights turning on. He jumped up to his feet when he realized that it wasn't the guards bringing him food, his arms wrapping around Miguel once he saw him. "Mi hermano. Cuánto te extrañé," Gabriel whispered, engulfed in Miguel’s body by the tightness of the hug. (my brother. how i missed you) "Lo siento por dejarte tirado," Miguel’s voice cracked as he spoke, his voice sounding raw from the sheer shock. (i’m sorry for leaving you behind) You stood guard as the brothers had their moment, looking out through the door just to make sure that nobody was coming nearby. "Aorry to ruin the moment but the guards are scheduled to come back in about five minutes," you spoke up, leading them out of the castle.

"Gracias. I appreciate the times that you brought me food and now for freeing me," Gabriel spoke up, turning to look back at you with shiny eyes. You'd taken the responsibility of giving Gabriel food when the guards forgot, which was most of the time since the viewed the prisoners as something less than the corpses underneath the castle. Miguel turned to look at you, a softness in his eyes as he took you in. "Thank you for everything, your majesty," he told you, walking out with Gabriel afterwards. You couldn't help but feel bad as you saw Gabriel limping alongside Miguel, Miguel’s arm wrapped around his shoulders as he helped him maintain his balance.

You were awaken from your nap after the brothers left by your father's screaming, his hands in his hair as he paced throughout the halls of the palace. "What did you do with the prisoner?! There's no way in hell he's going to get married to you now!" Your father bellowed as you walked out of your room, shaking your shoulders out of anger. "I don't know what you're talking about," you tried to deflect from the accusation, pushing him off you when your father was called by one of the maids. He turned to give you a dirty look, walking off with the maid to do what he was beckoned to do.

A week passed by since the last time you saw Miguel, expecting him to end the marriage arrangement but it was still on. You were expecting that he end things after what he wanted, but the announcement was still set for the union of the two kingdoms. Your father was still wary behind every single one of your actions, keeping guards lingering behind you despite how sleek he thought he was being. Now it was time for the two of you to announce your engagement to the world, every member of the press surrounding the kingdoms invited to the party. Your father was stressing out over the party, making sure that everything was up to standards and that every important person had rsvp'd.

Your maids helped you to button up the dress you had on, the dress making you look like a princess from a fairytale. The red dress clinged to every single one of your curves as you headed out to the ballroom, seeing that everyone had already come inside. Miguel came over to you, offering you his arm to wrap around before he lead you inside. The reporters began taking pictures of the two of you, the flash of the cameras almost blinding you as you walked through the crowd. You sat down next to your father on the throne, Miguel standing next to you. your father welcomed the crowd, his voice echoing throughout the room as he got to the point of what the party is about.

You spent the party talking with Miguel, spending most of the afternoon by his side. "So.. why'd you keep the arrangement going despite you getting what you wanted?" You asked him once the reporters were out of earshot, taking a sip from your glass of wine. "I have my reasons, your majesty. Plus, I've been liking getting to know you," he responded, waving over for Gabriel to sit down in front of him. You saw through the corner of your eye that your father was scowling, his eyes full of bitter venom as he saw Gabriel interacting with Miguel. You turned to look back at the boys, talking to them about the things to do around the kingdom and what your favorite views were around to diverge from what your father was doing.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" Miguel asked you, extending his hand out for you to grab. You took hold of his hand, letting him guide you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed one of your hands on his shoulder, the other still in his grasp as he moved you with elegance and grace to the rhythm of the classical song playing. "I thought i told you to stop calling me your majesty," you whispered in his ear, his face contorting into a smile as he twirled you around. "Yes, but you never did say anything about your highness," he responded, the dimples on his face only deepening with the way that you grumbled.

"Where'd you learn how to dance?" You asked him, watching him as he moved in synchrony to whatever song was playing. "My mother taught me before she died. She used to say that the two most important things as a potential suitor were knowing how to dance and how to treat a woman correctly," he told you, his hand wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close to his body. You leaned in when he dipped his head down, pressing your lips against his. The cameras started surrounding the two of you but you couldn't think of anything else apart from how good and how right his lips felt against yours.

The rest of the party was uneventful, though Miguel managed to keep it interesting with his stupid jokes and remarks. One of the things that you liked the most about him was that he found a way to be funny, without even putting that much effort into the jokes he was making. He got up when his assistant came over, announcing that it was time for them to depart. He dipped his head down, his lips pressing against the back of your hand. Gabriel let out a small wolf whistle to tease him, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he made his way out of the ballroom. "I'll see you at the wedding, your highness."

While you weren't looking forward to the wedding at first, you could say that you were slowly falling in love with who and what Miguel presented himself to be. The wedding ceremony had been short, mostly just for the sake of getting the two kingdoms united rather than the unison of the two beings involved. You'd convinced your father not to do a huge party afterwards, wanting to keep it as discreet and short as possible. The ride back home to the castle was quiet, Miguel’s hand lingering on your thigh as the ring sparkled from the sun's rays. You waved at some of the citizens that had come out to see the ceremony from the outside, watching their faces light up when you acknowledged them.

"I don't think you should do that," you told Miguel just as soon as he made the motion to carry you up the stairs, feeling a bit embarrassed as you looked over at him. "And why not? You're my wife now," he responded, his brows slightly furrowed in confusion. "I just think that maybe you'll struggle too much getting me up the stairs. It's fine, I can walk," you assured him, letting out a small yelp when he took you into his arms. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he led you inside the castle with ease, his footsteps remaining even as he took you up the stairs. You were aware of the fact that he was strong, you could practically see the way his muscles bulged underneath the suits he wore but few people had done this before with you.

"Don't ever insinuate that I can't carry you around because you're too heavy. Never that, mi vida," he told you once he set you down on the bed, his lips trailing down from your chin to your neck. He left little marks in his wake, soft moans escaping from your lips as you gripped onto his hair. He stopped for a moment, holding your hips as he looked down at you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to," he assured you, his hands gently squeezing your hips to accentuate his point. "I want you to fuck me, please."

He brought over the mirror that you changed in front of, putting in front of your bed before he went back to kissing your neck. "Look at how pretty you look. I’m gonna fuck you until your little head gets rid of those stupid ideas that you're heavy," he whispered, his teeth gently biting onto the side of your neck as he left his mark. You simply nodded in response, your mind struggling to compute the right words to respond to him. He brought you over to the bed, placing you down on your back as he pushed the skirt part of the dress up. "Such pretty white panties, are these all for me?" He asked you, his finger curling around the band of them. "All for you."

He slid them down with ease, his mouth trailing up your leg while his hand massaged the other one at the same time. He left open mouthed kisses on his way up, his lips wrapped around your thighs as he kissed the inner part. "I wanna taste your pussy so bad, but we have plenty of time for that later. The only place you'll be coming on tonight is my cock," he whispered into your skin like a promise, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down. He helped you with the process of taking off the wedding dress once he finished undressed, leaving you only in the garter and veil.

He pumped himself with one hand, gesturing for you turn around with the other one. You were face to face with your reflection, being able to see everything that Miguel was doing as he slowly pushed his cock inside. Though your cunt was wet from the time that he took kissing you, it still felt like he was stretching you past your every limit. Your grip on the sheets below you tightened as he pushed his cock deeper inside, your velvet walls engulfing his cock every time that he moved. He bottomed out after your pussy had opened up a bit more for him, his hand gripping the bottom of your veil to make you look up.

"You see that? You look so pretty when you're all stuffed up with my cock. I wish you could see yourself the same way that J do you," he told you, looking straight at your face in the mirror. And for a moment there, you could see yourself the same way that he saw you. You looked past the imperfections that usually tormented you, seeing yourself as someone that's worthy of everything that's happening. Miguel took his cock out and you were about to protest, his cock coming back inside killing the words in your throat. You looked at yourself in the mirror as he slowly thrusted into you, his hands now gripping the globes of your ass.

Your juices flowed down from your thighs down to the sheets as he sped up and you found yourself unable to break the gaze with him that held through the mirror. Your mouth parted as he pushed deeper inside, the tip of his cock almost near your cervix. Not only was his cock big, but the girth that it held was only providing you extra pleasure. "Such a gorgeous pussy, tightening up all around me like that," he babbled, your mouth contorting into an 'o' the faster he thrusted into you. His heavy balls slapped against your pussy every time he went inside, the angle allowing for them to hit your clit.

You brought your hand down to your clit, rubbing small circles around the nub as he thrusted into you, his pace unrelenting. While you had expected for this to be an exchange of love between the two of you, it turned out to be the result of just sheer desperation for one another. You didn't mind it though, not with the way that your back was arching as you pushed your ass back into him. You felt your vision start to blur from the tears streaming down your cheeks, his claws slightly digging into your ass. The pain contorted with the pleasure, the coil inside of you threatening to snap with how tight it was becoming.

He brought his foot up on the bed, the new angle allowing for him to hit your g-spot every time his cock went back inside of you. Your nails were digging into the sheets, your forehead covered in sweat as he fucked deeper and faster into you. "Oh fffuck, right there. Please don't stop, I'm so close," you whimpered out, your mind completely blank from anything but just coming around his cock. Your walls clamped around him tightly, the coil inside of you snapping once your walls unclenched. Your juices coated his shaft completely, some of it dripping down to the silk underneath the two of you. Miguel continued to thrust into you as he fucked you through the orgasm, his thrusts starting to get sloppy and more vigorous.

His cum painted your walls white as he came, his seed shooting deep into your cervix with the hope that you'd end up bearing his child soon. He took his cock out of your pussy, looking at your blissed out expression through the mirror before turning you over. He leaned down, giving you a small kiss on the lips when you felt his cock already starting to harden up once more for the second round. "I did say I was gonna fuck you dumb, mi amor," he whispered, his lips coming down to your neck as he sucked on the skin there.

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harunayuuka2060 · 9 months

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Crowley: MC? MC? I have a new job for you—

Grim: The hench-human is at the roof, fixing the holes.

Crowley: Oh. Would you tell them to get down so we could talk?

Grim: Nah. It's raining. I don't want to get wet.

Crowley: I'll just wait here then. And ooh~ Looks like they've made some changes already.

Grim: They said it was barely habitable. They got a few things from the storage room to renovate the dorm a little.

Crowley: What a talented individual.

Grim: So, what do you want from my hench-human?

Crowley: You see, I'm thinking of turning you both into students of Night Raven College.

Grim: Mryah! Really?!

Crowley: Yes. I've realized that it would be a waste to just have them work as a janitor.

Grim: Mryahah~! Wait. *frowns at him*

Crowley: Is there something wrong, Grim?

Grim: You want to exploit my hench-human!

Crowley: Wh— Of course not! Where does that come from?!

Grim: They're already cleaning the whole school and that isn't enough for you?!

Crowley: I have provided you food and shelter!

Grim: Hench-human has to work outside the school mryah! Because the food you're giving us ain't enough!

Crowley: They still have time for that— *clears throat*— Well, they could've asked for more. That shouldn't be my problem.

MC: *walks in* *dripping wet* Hey, Grim. Can you grab me some towel— *noticed Crowley*— What do you want?

Grim: *flies to their side* He wants to exploit us!

Crowley: Certainly not! I'm here to offer you to officially become a student of our school. *smiling*

MC: *raised an eyebrow*

MC: Yeah. Grim sure could use that.

Crowley: H-How about you? Are you not interested?

MC: Nah. I'm good. I had vocational courses in my world. No need for me to have a diploma here.

Crowley: Oh. I did hear from Grim you got a job outside the campus.

MC: Yeah. I realized I can't live off solely from your benevolence when I'm feeding a glutton.

Grim: I'm not a glutton!

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I see. But as you've said, Grim could use this opportunity. So would you be taking the job I'm about to offer you?

MC: *smirks* Sure. I can use some extra income.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I can only offer you a minimum wage.

MC: I'm not picky.

Crowley: Wonderful!

Leona: Huh? Who's that?

Ruggie: Don't you know? They're the janitor.

Leona: What are they doing here in Savanaclaw?

Ruggie: They've come to inspect each dorm in Night Raven College.

Leona: Huh?

MC: Some of the rooms here are full of shit.

Savanaclaw students: Why do you care?

MC: Shitty rooms, shitty people. *yawns* I feel like burning this whole place down.

Savanaclaw students: You can't do that!

MC: I can, pals. If you don't start cleaning right now.

Leona: ...

*In the housewarden meeting*

Leona: Hey, Crowley. What's up with that?

Crowley: *smiling* Is there a problem, Kingscholar?

Leona: Why does that punk get to do a dorm inspection?

Idia: Yeah! They have no respect to anyone's privacy!

Vil and Riddle: ...

Riddle: That isn't true at all.

Vil: Heartslabyul and Pomefiore were commended for their unwavering commitment to cleanliness and orderliness.

Vil: And they had asked for permission beforehand.

Azul: Though if you were to decline, they would persist and resort to using force to gain entry.

Kalim: I got scolded for keeping bugs in the kitchen...

Riddle: What the hell—

Crowley: MC's job as a dorm inspector only happens every end of the week. So you have nothing to worry about regarding invasion of privacy. *smiles*

Grim: Hench-human... *seems exhausted* *flies to their arms*

MC: You alright, buddy?

Grim: I hate classes... I give up.

MC: *chuckles* Looks like your preschool brain can't handle college classes.

Grim: Mryah! What did you say?!

MC: *pets him* Told ya to learn your ABC's first.

Grim: MRRAAAAHHHH!!!

MC: Easy, bud. Easy. I got you some food.

Grim: Take back what you said!

MC: Nuh-uh. Just prove me wrong.

Grim: I'll prove you wrong! Watch me!

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst grim #twst crowley #twst housewardens #the affable delinquent

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thebibliosphere · 2 years

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"But you're so successful without it."

Content warning: This post contains mentions of suicidal ideation.

I got a message earlier tonight that I'm not going to post, but I did ask the person involved if I could talk about what we subsequently ended up talking about in DMs because I feel it's important.

Basically, it was along the lines of "My kid got diagnosed with ADHD and really wants to try meds. I know from reading your blog that correct treatment for ADHD can be really beneficial, but I just don't think she's severe enough to need them."

The message then went on to ask me, as someone who is unmedicated with ADHD, for some tricks and tips on how to be successful without medication because clearly, look how well I'm doing without them. I mean, look at my blog, look at my book(s)! Surely if I can do all that without ADHD meds, other people can too. Surely there's a trick. A skill. Something you can learn if you just try hard enough...

This is not the first time I have received a message like this. In fact, I probably get about 2-5 messages like this a week.

Usually from other people who also have ADHD/suspect ADHD but don't want medication because they don't think they need it/don't want to need it, and yet can't figure out why they're struggling so much, and ask me how do I do the thing(s) and cope so well and get so much done, etc., etc.

So I'm going to tell you what I told this person tonight in case it helps someone. Yes, I have ADHD. No, I am not medicated due to severe health complications, and yes, I get a lot done. From the outside, I am sure it looks incredibly productive and successful. But I'm going to let you in on what that success feels like.

It feels like dying.

It feels like my brain is on fire; every nerve in my body scraped raw; every part of me wired and exposed to the noise of the world. There is no quiet; there is no calm. And even when my brain does fall silent, it's another kind of death. The inside of my head is sludge, flowing uphill like treacle, weighing me down, pulling me under in the riptide of my inability to focus. I can see what needs to be done, I can see it so clearly, yet sometimes it's like I don't control my own body. Not enough dopamine. Not enough brain chemicals for the message I'm screaming in my head to make my limbs do the simplest of tasks. Like, feed myself. Take a shower. Answer that email. Text my friends back. Go to bed when I'm tired. Write a best-selling novel...

A novel that almost killed me and not because of my other ailments, but because of my unmedicated ADHD.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I was already operating at critical mass when I went into final rewrites/edits. Every coping mechanism I had fell apart. Like training wheels falling off a tricycle, leaving me to wobble unsteadily until the main wheels fell off, swiftly followed by the handlebars until all that was left was me peddling frantically trying to keep my balance and not getting anywhere. I didn't realize it then, but I was heading towards a complete mental collapse. And even when I dragged myself across the finish line with the above and beyond help provided by my friends and editors, I was so burned out I couldn't enjoy my success. Worse, my success made me suicidal.

It took me until very recently, almost two years later, to be able to read Phangs without feeling suicidal. My brain associated it with the trauma of experiencing complete ADHD burnout but having to complete a monumental task anyway.

I had to go into intensive therapy to recover. I am still in intensive therapy for it.

It took me even longer after that to be able to sit down and write without harming myself. I still struggle with it, and I tell you this in all honest sincerity in the hope it makes you realize what it costs me to be "successful" and unmedicated.

And this wasn't the first time I've had to deal with this, either.

I struggled all through high school, all through college, all through every career job I ever had, knowing there was something wrong, but not quite being able to put my finger on it because hey, I still got stuff done, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Surely everyone went through life feeling this way? Right?

...right?

It wasn't until I got my ADHD diagnosis as an adult that I realized what was happening. Why I struggled so much. Why life was so hard. In many ways, it was like the sun coming up. An internal dawning of realization and acceptance, but also rage.

So much rage.

Rage at how much I'd had to struggle because no one noticed because I was quiet and undisruptive. Rage at a system that forced me to learn in ways that were not intuitive to my brain. To always being told, "doesn't apply herself" while it felt like I was clawing my brain apart trying to do what people wanted from me. To a work-life balance, that rewards all the things that make ADHD actively worse. Rage. So much rage it hurts. And to top it all off, I can't be medicated for it. I finally know what's different, I finally know why my world feels raw and turned inside out, and I can't take any of the medications that might help me.

Do you know how angry I wake up every day that there is a possible solution just within my grasp, but my health conditions prevent me from trying them? Do you know how much it hurts? How much I grieve for the person I could be if I was able to have help beyond therapy and coaching? How much happier I could be...

Not productive. Not successful. Happy.

So ask yourself, what do you want more? A child who has to go through all of this and resents you for prolonging their suffering? Who winds up hating themselves by internalizing the false concept that if they just try hard enough, they can do whatever they set their mind to.

Or do you want to help them?

Or if this is you, why are you afraid to help yourself?

Please, don't use me as an example to harm yourself or others. Yes, I am successful without medication. But the toll is high. Too high.

Rid yourself of the idea that you need to suffer more to be allowed help. You don't. They don't. No one does.

#adhd #adult adhd #actually adhd #chronic health tag #suicide mention #suicidal ideation #long post #mental health #I am not for you to bludgeon other people with #kindly desist

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