#And there should be some repercussions for those mistakes

[vivalabunbun]

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~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[hero-israel]

Let me tell you being a former Christian this shit goes so much deeper than a lot of born Jews realize. The Christian worldview (specifically Calvinist/Puritan) seeping into and pervading all of modern leftism is honestly frightening. But also it's very funny.

They believe that there are Good people and Bad people, and that any mistake or lapse in judgment or instance of not being educated is a Mask Off moment, showing who is a member of the Elect and who is not. If you fuck up, that's not just a fuck up, it's Revealing. You are damned, were always damned, you were just good at hiding it, and now we know the truth and are doubly angry because not only are you evil, you lied about it. The only recourse is to shun you, and if that leads to your death, so be it. Anyone who's seen any micro celebrity get canceled saw this in action.

And the only way you can prove you're a member of the Elect is to operate as if you have nothing to hide. You have to loudly and proudly proclaim your righteousness. If you don't have anything to hide why would you be worried? Privacy is suspicious. You Must Speak on everything they deem important or else you obviously agree with the Bad People. There is no room for discussion or healthy debate. There are no loopholes or subclauses or other points of view to consider. You're with us or against us. If you don't constantly go around saying you're with us, you're probably secretly against us. The only way to convince your neighbors, whom you inherently distrust, that you're one of the Good Ones, is to perform righteousness, parrot righteous words. The only way to redeem yourself is by grandiose acts of self flagellation, perhaps being the right demographic, or by accusing others of Heresy.

The goal is not to bring good into the world, it's to recruit more people into the same thought patterns (that's kind of all Christian denominations though). Because if you can convince your community that you're one of the Elect, that means G-d preselected you for Heaven, and you're golden. No repercussions or consequences baby. The only material benefit for you is that you "get" to proclaim you're going to Heaven and everyone has to agree with you. If anyone doesn't they're probably going to Hell anyway. You're on the right side (of history), so why should you ever self reflect or grow? Why should you question anything? Why should nuance or empathy exist? This is about Right and Wrong. We know where we stand, where do you stand?

Every single aspect of American culture and politics, right and "left" alike, was planted by the pilgrims, and it is so fundamentally antithetical to true Leftist thought. Remember all the actually successful Western Leftist movements were started in Europe (and Israel cough cough)... because they kicked all their fucking psychotic Calvinists out. Those people went to America and that's a big big big reason why we don't have any near as much of a robust Leftist movement as even socially conservative European countries (and Israel cough cough). And what's funny is I still find myself slipping into these thought patterns, which is so not compatible with Jewish philosophy or theology. It's been years and I'm still not done.

It's a hell of a drug to kick, so I definitely don't trust white goysiche college kids who've been antitheists for about 6 months since they left their Republican parents' homes to have any great success in unlearning and unprogramming from this. Which is kind of obvious in that I see them acting just like their conservative Christian parents every day on every social media platform, swap out a gun toting white Jesus with some noble savage idea of Palestine, absolving the West of its sins against the Global South.

It is a cult structured around spiritual isolation, antisocial behavior, and it is inherently against any kind of political movement that centers and celebrates the Community. It is designed to tear communities apart and foster obedience to whatever authority can force itself on them. And this has been going on for almost 500 years, there is nothing we can do about it.

Thank you for the insightful look. Their "purity culture" approach definitely had to come from somewhere.

[geritsel]

Robert De Niro Talks trump

Robert de Niro turns 81 this year. He still is everything Donald Trump is not; talented, intelligent, compassionate and – as far as I know – a man of a man of impeccable integrity.

Here’s Robert De Niro’s full statement about how Donald Trump should NEVER be president again:

“I’ve spent a lot of time studying bad men. I’ve examined their characteristics, their mannerisms, the utter banality of their cruelty.

Yet there’s something different about Donald Trump. When I look at him, I don’t see a bad man. Truly.

I see an evil one.

Over the years, I’ve met gangsters here and there. This guy tries to be one, but he can’t quite pull it off. There’s such a thing as “honor among thieves.” Yes, even criminals usually have a sense of right and wrong.

Whether they do the right thing or not is a different story — but — they have a moral code, however warped.

Donald Trump does not. He’s a wannabe tough guy with no morals or ethics. No sense of right or wrong. No regard for anyone but himself — not the people he was supposed to lead and protect, not the people he does business with, not the people who follow him, blindly and loyally, not even the people who consider themselves his “friends.” He has contempt for all of them.

We New Yorkers got to know him over the years that he poisoned the atmosphere and littered our city with monuments to his ego. We knew first hand that this was someone who should never be considered for leadership. We tried to warn the world in 2016.

The repercussions of his turbulent presidency divided America and rattled New York City beyond imagination. Remember how we were jolted by crisis in early 2020, as a virus swept the world.

We lived with Donald Trump’s bombastic behavior every day on the national stage, and we suffered as we saw our neighbors piling up in body bags.

The man who was supposed to protect this country put it in peril, because of his recklessness and impulsiveness. It was like an abusive father ruling the family by fear and violent behavior. That was the consequence of New York’s warning getting ignored. Next time, we know it will be worse.

Make no mistake: the twice-impeached, 4-time indicted Donald Trump is still a fool. But we can’t let our fellow Americans write him off like one. Evil thrives in the shadow of dismissive mockery, which is why we must take the danger of Donald Trump very seriously.

So today we issue another warning. From this place where Abraham Lincoln spoke — right here in the beating heart of New York — to the rest of America: This is our last chance.

Democracy won’t survive the return of a wannabe dictator. And it won’t overcome evil if we are divided.

So what do we do about it? I know I’m preaching to the choir here. What we’re doing today is valuable, but we have to take today into tomorrow – take it outside these walls. We have to reach out to the half of our country who have ignored the hazards of Trump and, for whatever reason, support elevating him back into the White House.

They’re not stupid, and we must not condemn them for making a stupid choice. Our future doesn’t just depend on us. It depends on them.

Let’s reach out to Trump’s followers with respect. Let’s not talk about “democracy.” “Democracy” may be our holy grail, but to others it is just a word, a concept, and in their embrace of Trump, they’ve already turned their backs on it.

Let’s talk about right and wrong. Let’s talk about humanity.

Let’s talk about kindness. Security for our world.

Safety for our families.

Decency.

Let’s welcome them back.

We won’t get them all, but we can get enough to end the nightmare of Trump, and fulfill the mission of this “Stop Trump Summit.”

For many Robert de Niro may be far too rich and far too Hollywood, but i consider this as straight from the heart. I love this man.

BTW... I have high regards for followers on Tumblr, some I consider as friends without ever having met them, but I completely understand those who get fed up with my political in betweens. I wish you all the best!

Regards,

Geritsel (Let Donald Trump never ever become president again.)

[metalomagnetic]

I am spiraling into Sirius being a father again.

His relationship with his sons and harry are so interesting to me. Because it seems to me they all want to be his favorite child , even Marvolo who seems to like his mother better.

And we see a lot of glimpses of them being a little jealous of each other. So this makes me wonder , does Orion sometimes resent Harry for being the "favorite". Because Sirius gives Harry a lot of special treatment even if he doesn't realize it himself.

I imagine it would get worse after Voldemort comes back and wants to kill Harry , so it would be logical for Sirius to get even more protective of Harry.

But hey , maybe i'm reaching a little too far because i love angst too much.

All the boys want to be Sirius' favourite, of course.

You didn't reach too far at all. That 'your precious Harry' Orion let out shows there is some resentment there. Orion loves Harry, but one has to be blind not to notice Sirius treats them differently.

And children are jealous, generally. Especially so young. Especially when there are already expectations on Orion's shoulders to be the perfect Black Heir, meanwhile Harry can do whatever he likes with little to no repercussion. Of course, here is not just Sirius that puts pressure on Orion, but the entire family.

On the other side, even if Harry isn't at all jealous that he doesn't get smacked around by Sirius, Walburga and Arcturus (RIP), he, too has some insecurities about the entire Black/non-Black thing. But Harry is not only older, more chill, but also Sirius' devotion to him helps a lot, so Harry isn't resentful of the other boys, just sometimes insecure.

Poor Marvolo has it the worst (in his head) because there's Harry the Golden Child, Orion the Heir, and now Helix the baby that captures more attention, so he feels he has to compete extra hard; though, he's more resentful of Orion, not Harry,

They do all love the other, but sometimes brothers do get like that, even in normal families, let alone the most noble and ancient House of Black.

I do think Lucius was right, and Sirius should have treated them all the same, but Sirius doesn't want to 'steal' James' place as father, even if it's a fool's errand, since James has no place in Harry's life. But, for James' memory, he tries to raise Harry how James would have raised him, once again, an impossible task, because Harry is surrounded by values James wouldn't have exposed Harry to, anyway.

It would have been better if Sirius was ready for children, and if he wasn't so traumatised when he took Harry and then practically had Orion and Marvolo back to back. He really wasn't ready for all that, but well Harry had to be taken care of, and then his lovely family pushed him into marriage and here we are.

Mistakes were made.

Still, despite all that, they do have a loving family. All those children know they are loved fiercely. They just compete for the 'favourite' spot.

[misirosekisiro]

Toshio and the boy.

In Japan, beneath Tokyu, lies a highly secretive underground prison. Contrary to what the outside world may believe, the inmates confined within its walls are exceptionally dangerous individuals. These are the most perilous offenders, incarcerated here covertly. Many were captured and detained without trials or public disclosure. The government understands their danger; some are deemed so hazardous that the world might be safer if they were eliminated. However, the government holds a different perspective; even the most dangerous individuals can sometimes be valuable. Some are utilized by the government for specific purposes, while others become subjects of scientific study.

Toshio, a new guard, has recently been assigned to this facility. He is a member of the Japan Self-Defense Forces (JSDF) and gained recognition for his remarkable actions during earthquake events. This commendable display earned him a promotion and an invitation to join the guardianship of this clandestine prison. But he have one weakness in his perfect resume. That he never tell someone, he was gay,  fetish on smell , underwear and uniform.

His first day in the office is spent receiving instructions from his superior. There is a strict protocol and the inmates must be watched with the greatest of caution.

"The inmates are highly intelligent. They're all experts in their respective fields, and have unique talents that have made them dangerous to society. That's why they're being held in such an isolated location. We don't want any of them escaping and getting out into the world. If they were to escape, the repercussions could be enormous."

"How many people are in this facility?" Toshio asked.

"There are 166 individuals currently incarcerated."

"What's the breakdown?"

"We have 45 females and 121 males. 137 are Japanese. The rest are foreigners, and of those 50 are Caucasian. There's only one person of Chinese descent."

"There are so many foreign people!"

"Well, yes. You'll see more of the specifics later. For now, the main thing to keep in mind is to be cautious. The inmates here are intelligent and can be quite cunning. There's no such thing as dropping your guard around these people. If you make any sort of mistake, the consequences will be dire."

"I understand."

"Good. Now let me introduce you to the head warden."

Toshio followed his superior officer down a long corridor, until they came to a stop at the end. There, a man stood waiting.

"This is the warden," said the officer. "Warden, this is Toshio. He's the newest member of our team."

The warden shook hands with Toshio and greeted him politely. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair, a receding hairline, and glasses. He wore a suit and tie. His expression was stern and serious.

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you." Toshio answered, "I hope I'll be able to help you."

"We'll see. First, you should know that all communication with the outside world is strictly forbidden. Do not contact anyone, including your family. We've got a special line for emergencies. It goes directly to the police. In case of an emergency, we'll call for reinforcements. We've also got a medical facility on site. There are a number of doctors and nurses here. If any of the inmates require medical treatment, it can be done here."

"What about visitors?"

"We do not allow any. The prisoners are not official be lock down here. They're being held in secret, so we don't want to draw attention to ourselves. The fewer people who know about this place, the better. Of course, in case of an emergency, the government can step in, but that's very unlikely."

"Are there any rules I need to follow?"

"Just keep in mind what I've told you. The most important thing is that you maintain a healthy distance from the prisoners. You're not allowed to approach any of them. And do not allow them to approach you. Also, you must keep an eye on them at all times. You're not allowed to take breaks."

"I understand."

After finishing his orientation, Toshio started his job.

He went to the guard room, The prison was sperate to 4 wings form A to D, each wings delare to more and more dangerous criminals, he took a deep breath before entering the first wing, A, which is a general prison.

The guard room is a simple white-walled space, furnished with a few chairs and a desk. A single fluorescent light illuminates the room. It smells like cleaning fluid.

At the far end of the room, a door leads into a long corridor lined with cells. The cells are separated by thick iron bars. Most are occupied. The prisoners are dressed in white jumpsuits and wear ankle shackles.

As he walked through the corridor, Toshio noticed that some of the inmates were watching him intently. He tried not to make eye contact. He also notice that some inmates was in differest clothes, some even was tight in leather's strap suit same one that use in mental hospital.

In one of the cells, a man was lying on his bunk. He looked up at Toshio and smiled.

"Hey, handsome. How about a blowjob?"

Toshio ignored, He will station in Male, A zone. All women inmate was on sperate floor with women's guard.

"Hey, how about you come in and let me suck you off? I bet you'd love that. You could shove your dick in my mouth and fuck my face."

"Stop talking."

"Or what? You gonna punish me? Huh? I'd like to see you try. I'm a tough guy. You're not going to hurt me."

"No need to talk to him" another guard comming and said. "He's not worth it. He's just a piece of shit. He's a fucking pervert. That's all he's good for."

"That's not true. I can do lots of things. I can give you a good time. I bet you've never had a blowjob before, have you?"

"Ignore him, that is best way to do here" the other guard said in calm voice.

"Make me! You think you can make me do anything? I'm stronger than you are. I could take you out. Come on, let's go! You and me, right now. Let's fight."

Toshio ignore, he walked away.

But the man continued to taunt him.

"Hey, you chicken shit! Why don't you turn around and look at me? Are you too scared to look me in the eye? What a coward! I'm not afraid of you! I'm not afraid of anything!"

Toshio ignore.

"Hey, hey! You can't walk away from me. I'm talking to you. I'm not done yet. Hey, are you listening to me? I'm not done talking to you. Don't ignore me. You're ignoring me. Don't ignore me. I said, don't ignore me!"

Suddenly the man started screaming and cursing at him. He was shouting obscenities and hurling insults.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! You're a fucking coward. I'm going to kick your ass! I'm going to make you wish you were dead. You're not going to ignore me. You're going to listen to me. I'm not going to shut up. You're going to listen to every single word I have to say."

Toshio continue walking away. He doesn't know why the inmate act like that.

"Fuck you! You're a pussy! You're a fucking pussy! You're a coward! I'm going to kick your ass! I'm going to destroy you. You're a fucking pussy! Come here and fight me, you coward! Fight me! Fight me, you coward! Fight me!"

He kept walking. He could still hear the man yelling at him.

"No worry, This place not like other prison. Most of them can't step outside that case until the end of the world. But they are still human" The other guard said in calm voice. "Some have unique talent, some are scientist and genius, they could help the government in secret, like this prison is exist in the first place"

"You should ignore him. He's just a fucking retard. He doesn't know when to stop. He'll keep doing it until he gets bored. It's best not to give him the satisfaction. Just keep walking."

"Thank you, sir."

"No problem. Don't let him get to you. It's not worth it."

They keep walking and leave the man behind.

Toshio feel relief, But he have one worry, the man's face. The man was young, and have handsome face, but something weird, he have red eye. Like his eyes were bleeding, and the other is black.

"Who is that?"

"He is one of the foreigner" The guard said. "His name is Sigma, and he is a Russian"

"Russian? What did he do to be put here?"

"He is a hacker, he hacked into a Russian bank and stole money. They sent him here after he got out from his jail"

"Why is he have red and black eyes?"

"He is a special case, and he is the first and only inmate with two color eyes, the doctors and scientists are testing him, and they are the one who have control over him"

"I see, so they're treating him like a lab rat"

"Yes, he is a special case, because of his eye color, his power and his brain"

"I see, what's his ability?"

"I don't know, they said it is a secret, and we shouldn't talk about it, so they don't leak the information"

"Okay, thank you"

They keep walking and arrive at the guard post.

"Well, I'll leave you here. Take care of yourself. We have not much guard here, Most of system was automatic unless was override by control key." He point to a key in the box on the desk. "It's only use while some case. And need to report before use it. Most of time, inmate will be in their cell. even food also have automatic system on provide it.  As you may know, you need to do patrol on alley ways at least once each hour. I suggest you to just keep eye on them, ignore any request or talk to them. "

"Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome. Just relax and enjoy. It's not so hard"

The guard leave, and Toshio is alone. He look at the key in the box and remember about the rule.

He look around the place, and the cell have one way to open, a small window, the same one that the food was serve.

He look at the monitor, and the screen show a list of all inmates in each cell, and he could see their faces, age and sex.

"Let's see, what have we got here"

"Hmm, 35-year-old male, 174 cm, 60 kg, Caucasian, Russian, hacker, 397,710.23 USD theft"

"What an amount, no wonder he was locked here."

"Hmm, 37-year-old male, 166 cm, 59 kg, Asian, Japanese, serial killer, 677 counts murder, 48 counts rape"

"Damn, a mass murderer, what did he do to deserve that title?"

"Hmm, 42-year-old male, 167 cm, 84 kg, Asian, Korean, scientist, 280 counts child abuse, 10 counts child murder, 100 counts illegal human experiment, 500 counts illegal drugs deal, 1000 counts torture, 10000 counts rape"

"Holy shit, this is a big list."

"Hmm, 28-year-old male, 168 cm, 58 kg, European, German, serial killer, 125 counts murder, 23 counts rape"

"Not a big deal compared to the first one."

"Huh!, 20--year-old male,165,52 kg, Asian, Japanese, - Data consealed - unaviable permission rank to access this data"

"What, why can't I see his data?" His attention was shift to this one. "He is only 20 years old, why is his data blocked?"

He look at the other info and find out that all other inmates are 30 and above. All others data was showed, just only one.

He think for a moment, and then realize something, this cell is not the normal one.

"Why is he locked there? He is so young. What did he do to deserve being here? He is so young. And the system doesn't even show his name."

He think for a moment.

"Could he be one of those 'special cases' the guard was talking about?"

He change the mornitor to this man's cell. then he notice. That cell is one that wear a tight leather straping suit. his face also masked with lether mask. his eye was blined with red strap, and his hand and feet is tied with same leather.

"This is so strange. why is he tied like that? This is not a normal cell. What did he do to deserve being there? Could it be his ability that dangerous enough to be locked in this special cell?"

He look closely at the screen, and notice something else.

"Hmm, why does he have a bulge on his pants? Could he be erect?"

He zooms the image and sees a big bulge in his pants.

"Why is he erect? Could it be his ability has something to do with sex? That could be the reason why his data is blocked."

He also notice that this man got an feeding tube, It's like they not want someone go near him even to feed him.

"Maybe that's it, his ability is so dangerous, and they can't risk it, so they have him locked up like this."

Toshio was curious, the boy is handsome, even his body is covered with leather, he can still see the outline of his abs. And his cock is very big, the biggest Toshio ever seen.

Toshio decide to investigate it more later, right now, he will have to do his job.

Time passed, and soon his shift is over.

He go home and relax.

In his mind, he can't forget about the boy, He was very young, and his face was covered with a mask. Toshio is very curious about him.

And also, he was curious about that man who had the red and black eyes. Why was he so angry?

He was curious about the boy's ability, and why he was locked up. He decided to investigate the matter further.

Toshio's curiosity was growing.

He knew he was breaking the rules.

But he was curious.

The next day, Toshio goes to work as usual.

He starts his shift, and his first task is to check on the inmates.

He checks the monitor, and he sees the boy is still there. He looks at the other cells, and none of them are occupied.

"Hmm, the cells are all empty, but the boy's cell is not. I wonder why. Maybe the boy is a special case. I'm curious about him."

Toshio is still thinking about the boy.

He decides to check the boy's cell.

He approaches the cell, and sees the boy is laying down. He's not moving.

"Huh, he is sleeping."

Toshio watches the boy for a while.

Then he decides to enter the cell.

"I'm going to check on him."

He enters the cell, and sees the boy is laying still.

"Hmm, he is still asleep. I'm going to check on him."

Toshio touches the boy, and sees the boy doesn't react.

He feels the boy's body, and sees the boy's face. He sees the boy is wearing a mask, but his eyes are covered by a red blindfold.

He looks at the boy's body, and sees the boy has an athletic build.

"Hmm, he is a good-looking boy. I wonder what he is like under the mask."

Toshio decides to check.

Toshio touches the boy's face.

"His skin is soft. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

Toshio takes his finger and touches the boy's lips.

The boy doesn't move.

"His lips are soft. Hmm, he is a beautiful boy. He is very handsome."

Toshio decides to check on the rest of the boy's body.

He checks the boy's neck, and sees the boy has a muscular neck.

"His neck is very strong. Hmm, his neck is muscular."

Toshio moves his hand and feels the boy's chest.

"His chest is muscular. Hmm, he is a strong boy."

Toshio feels the boy's chest.

"He has a muscular chest. Hmm, he is a good-looking boy."

Toshio keeps moving his hand.

He feels the boy's abs.

"He has a nice six pack. Hmm, he is a handsome boy."

Toshio feels the boy's stomach, and sees the boy's navel is visible.

"He has a cute navel. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

Toshio reaches the boy's crotch.

He sees the boy's cock is still hard.

"Hmm, his cock is still hard." Then he notice a smell coming from the boy's crotch.

"There's a musky scent coming from his crotch."

Toshio sniffs the air.

"It's a sexy musky scent. Hmm, it's a manly scent."

Toshio is getting aroused.

He decides to touch the boy's cock.

"Ammm Ummm" The boy moans a little.

Toshio touches the boy's cock and feels the boy's shaft.

"Hmm, his cock is long. Hmm, he is a hung boy."

Toshio grabs the boy's balls.

"His balls are big. Hmm, he is a heavy-balled boy."

Toshio massages the boy's balls.

"Ahhh Ahh" The boy moans louder.

Toshio feels the boy's ass.

"Hmm, his ass is round. Hmm, he is a beautiful boy."

"Ahawammam" Boy try to talk something.

Toshio moves his hand down to the boy's ass.

"He has a nice ass. Hmm, he is a cute boy."

"Uhmmam" Boy mumbles.

"What is it, boy?" Toshio asked.

"Amawww" Boy mumbles again.

Toshio doesn't understand what the boy is saying.

He then remove a gagged form boy mouth.

"What are you doing, boy? Are you trying to say something?"

"Yea" Boy said.

"What is it, boy?"

"Who are you, mister?"

"My name is Toshio. I'm a guard here. Who are you, boy?"

"My name is Kaito. What are you doing, sir?"

"I'm checking on you, boy. Why are you tied up like this, boy?"

"They was kidnap me!, bring me here and lock me inside this suit"

"Kidnap? What do you mean, boy?"

"They kidnap me, tie me up, and then lock me in here. I don't know why."

Toshio may not understand, but he feel he can trust the boy, his voice is so soft and so reliable.

"Okay, I believe you, boy. But how did you get in here?"

"They put me inside this suit and blindfolded me. Then they brought me here and locked me in here. I don't know why, sir."

Toshio doesn't know what to do, he can't let the boy go, but he also can't leave him like this. he feel that his head was half blank. He really feel that he need help him.

"What should I do, boy? Should I let you go or should I leave you here?"

"Please, help me, sir."

"What can I do, boy?"

"Can you please take this mask off of my face? I can't see anything."

Toshio takes the mask off of the boy's face.

The boy's face is covered with a leather blindfold.

Toshio then takes the blindfold off.

"Ahhh, I can see again." boy eyes was gaze on Toshio face. their eyes was meet each others.

"So beautiful eyes" Toshio thought.

The boy's eyes were a beautiful emerald green. They were a beautiful green color.

"Boy, you have such a beautiful eyes."

"Thank you, sir. If you like it, may you gaze deeper in my eyes?"

"Sure, boy."

"Ahhh" Boy said.

The boy's eyes were hypnotized.

Toshio gazed deeply into the boy's eyes.

"Ahhhh" The boy moaned.

"Ohhh, ohhh" Toshio was moaning.

The boy's eyes were glazing.

"I know you love my scent, right?"

"Yes, boy. I do. Your scent is so manly."

"My scent is so manly, isn't it?"

"Yes, boy. It is." Toshio fill his face with boy's smell.

"You want to inhale more deeply in my scent right?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Then inhale more deeply."

"Ohhh, ohhh" Toshio is inhaling the boy's scent.

The boy's scent is intoxicating.

"Ohhh, ohhh, it's so strong. So manly."

"My scent is so strong, isn't it?"

"Yes, boy. It is."

"I'm glad that you like my scent, sir. Then why you not take my suit, it's fill with my sweat and odor. You must love that smell."

"I will."

"Take my suit off, sir. I want you to inhale more deeply in my smell."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio started removing the boy's leather suit.

The boy's suit is made out of leather.

"My suit is made out of leather. Do you like it, sir?"

"Yes, boy. I do. I love the smell of leather."

"I'm glad that you love the smell of leather, sir. Then why you not take a deep sniff in my suit."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio started sniffing the boy's leather suit.

The smell of the leather is intoxicating.

"Ahhh, it smells so good, sir."

"I'm glad that you love the smell, boy."

"My suit is soaked with my sweat. You want to taste my sweat, don't you, sir?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Taste my sweat, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio tasted the boy's sweat.

The taste was delicious.

"Your sweat is so tasty, boy."

"I'm glad that you like the taste, sir. Then why don't you take a sip from my balls?"

"Okay, boy."

Toshio drank the boy's sweat.

The taste was amazing.

"It's so good, boy. I love your taste."

"I'm glad that you love it, sir. Now why you not take of your uniform and fill yourself in my suit. I'm sure you love the feeling of my sweat on your skin."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio was completely naked now.

He was wearing only his tight spandex brief.

"You no need that brief. You want to feel your cock soak in my sweat, right?"

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Take it off, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took his brief off.

Now he was completely naked.

"Ahhh, I'm so naked, boy. I feel so free."

"I'm glad that you like that, sir. Now take a seat on the chair and feel my suit upon your body. I'm sure you love the feeling."

"Yes, boy. I love it."

Toshio sat down on the chair.

He could feel the boy's sweat on his skin.

"Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. I love the feeling of your sweat on my skin."

"I'm glad that you like it, sir. Now why you not feel your cock in my suit. I'm sure you want to feel my warmth around your cock."

"Yes, boy. I want to."

"Feel your cock in my suit, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio put his cock in the boy's suit.

"Ahhh, I can feel your warmth, boy. It's so nice."

"I'm glad that you like the warmth, sir. Now i will lock this strap on you. I'm sure you love to be locked inside my suit, right?"

"Yes, boy. I do."

"Then take this lock, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took the lock from the boy.

"Lock my suit, sir. I'm sure you love the feeling of being locked inside my suit."

"I love the feeling, boy. The suit was so tight on my body!"

"I'm glad that you like the feeling, sir. Now i think you want to taste my salivar, this gag is soak with it. And you will suck the drool from the tube. You must love the taste of my drool, right?"

"Yes, boy. I love the taste."

"Take the gag, sir."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio took the gag from the boy.

"Put the gag in your mouth, sir. I'm sure you love to have your mouth full of my drool."

"Yes, boy. I love it."

"Then put the gag in your mouth, and feel my drool."

"Okay, boy."

Toshio put the gag in his mouth.

He could feel the boy's saliva in his mouth.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos..fyooogodyoo (Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. I love the taste of your saliva.)" Toshio was said in muffed form gagged.

"Wow i can't understand what you said.  But I'm sure you love the feeling, sir."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you like it, sir. But it's will not complete if you not feel my sweat in my mask, right?

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)."

"Let's me help put my mask on your head. I'm sure you love the feeling of your head be full with my smell, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

Toshio put the mask on his head.

He could feel the boy's scent all over his head.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos..fyooogodyoo  (Ahhh, it feels so good, boy. Your scent is intoxicating.)"

Toshio's cock was hard inside the suit.

"Your cock is hard, isn't it, sir?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you're so aroused, sir. Now i think you want to hear the sound of my voice, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you love my voice, sir. Then why you only heard only my voice, and obey it, love it. And feel the sensation of it. Your body is completely in my control."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

Toshio felt the boy's words.

His mind was full of the boy's voice.

"Ammhmmamammmu sos...my...boyyys (Ahhh, it feels so good, my boyyys.)"

"I'm sure you not mind, if I will fuck your ass. right, sir?"

"Yeaggaas (yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you want to have your ass fucked, sir. Then let's me put my cock in your ass."

"Ammhmmamammmu sos, boy yyyy (Ahhh, it feels so good, boys. Your cock is huge!)"

"I'm glad that you like having your ass fucked, sir. And don't worry I will not stop. I'm sure you will come from having your ass fucked by me, right?"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)"

"I'm glad that you want to come, sir. Then feel my cock in your ass, feel it moving inside your ass, and filling your ass with my come."

"Ammhmmamammmu sos...my....boys.....yeees! (Ahhh, it feels so good, boys. I'm cumming!)"

"I'm glad that you came, sir. Now you will continue to serve me. And your ass will always be ready for me. My cock will always be inside your ass. You will always have my come inside your ass."

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy. Please, Master!)"

"I'm glad that you want me to use your ass, sir. Now let's us taste each others cum"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, boy)

"Good, now suck my dick. I'm sure you will love the taste of my cum"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, Boy)"

"Suck it. Suck my dick"

"Yeaggaas (Yes, Boy )"

The boy pull unzip a leather strap crotch and start to suck Toshio's cock.

Toshio was sucking the boy's cock.

They were both enjoying the taste of each others cocks.

"Hmmm, you are a good cock sucker, boy"

"I'm glad that you enjoy it, Sir. Your cock taste so good. And the way it fills my mouth, I just can't get enough. Good to know that this trade is not bad at all."

"What trade are you talking about?"

"Soon you will know"

The boy continues to suck Toshio's cock.

They both enjoy the taste of each others cocks.

"You make me horny, boy. I can't resist the temptation"

"That's what I'm talking about. I'm sure you will enjoy this trade. "

"I'm sure I will"

"Then cum, flood it in my mouth"

"As you wish, boy"

"Oh yeah, flood it with your cum. Flood my mouth with your cum. Yes. yes, fill my mouth with your cum"

Toshio shot his cum inside the boy's mouth.

The boy swallowed the cum.

"Hmm, you have such a tasty cum. I can't wait for you to do the same thing to me.

"Hmm, you are a naughty boy. And I love naughty boys."

"Thank you, Sir. Then drink my cum, take it."

Toshio sucks the boy's cock.

"Ahhh, the taste of your cock. I can't get enough.

"I know, you can't. And the taste of your cum, I can't get enough. So keep sucking it. Keep drinking my cum."

"Hmm, you are a naughty, slut. I love a slut"

"I'm glad that you do. So drink it all. Drink my cum."

"Ahhh, I will"

Toshio drinks the boy's cum.

"Hmm, the taste of your cum, hmm, it's so good. I can't get enough. "

"I know. I'm glad that you do. Now just wait.. ah i can feel it."

"What?"

"My body it's start to morph... Also your."

"My what?"

"Your body also start to morph. Ohhh. Ahhh"

"Oh my god! What is this?!"

"Your body start to morph into my body."

The boy body was growing, his figure was morping to be Toshio.

"No, no, what is this?!"

"Don't worry, It's will not hurt"

Toshio was looking at the boy, his eyes was widen. He was shocked.

"You are me, now, Sir."

"I'm who?

"You are me. and I'm Toshio now"

"How? Why? What did you do to me?"

"It's simple. This trade. You get my body, and I get your. We exchange our body, But you still my slave, right?"

"No! No! You can't do this to me."

"Of course, I can. You are my slave now, Sir. And you will serve me." The boy which now Toshio gaze to Toshio's eyes in shape of the boy, he whipser with slow, calm voice.

"You will serve me. You will obey me. You will do everything I say." Real Toshio eyes was start to blank.

"You will do everything I say." The boy whisper in Toshio's ear, Toshio mind was completely blank.

"I will do everything you say." Toshio said, his mind was full with the boy's word.

"You will do everything I say. You will be a good slave." The boy whisper in Toshio's ear.

"I will do everything you say."

"You will be a good slave."

"Yes. Yes. I will be a good slave. I will do everything you say.

"Good. Now kiss me. Kiss yourself."

"As you wish."

Toshio kisses the boy, he could taste his own lips.

"Now suck yourself. Suck your own cock."

"Yes, Master."

Toshio starts sucking his own cock.

"Good slave. Good slave."

"Thank you, Master.

"Let's stop for today, I'm sure i will enjoy with you later. Now your cock will keep hard but can't release, unless i'm allow you to.

"Yes, Master."

"Good slave. Good slave."

"I'm glad you have a good slave. I will take care of your body"

"You will. Now I will leave you here"

"As you wish."

New Toshio put a gagged back and check the boy's leather strap suit that was seal as normal. Then he look at Toshio's guard uniform. He pick Toshio's brief and smell it. He loves the smell. Think he got Toshio's fetish too. New Toshio took off Toshio's brief and put it on. He could feel his hard cock in the tight brief. New Toshio took Toshio's shirt and put it on. Then he put Toshio's pants on. Then New Toshio put on Toshio's shoes. He could feel the leather rubbing against his body.

New Toshio stood up and looked down at his new body. He was wearing Toshio's guard uniform. His new body was covered in tight uniform.

"Damn, I look hot in this uniform." New Toshio said.

New Toshio smiled and then walked out of the room.

New Toshio walked down the hallway. He was excited. He had a big day ahead of him. He was going to explore his new body and see what he could do with it. He had never been so excited before. He couldn't wait to start his new life.

Toshio, the old one, now was a no name boy, was laid on the bed watching his new master walk out. Toshio can only think he need to be a good slave and obey his new master.

"Yes, yes. I will be a good slave and obey."

[nephilimeq]

Teen Wolf and Lack of Character Development - Scott McCall

Incoming Rant: Re-watching the first season of TW I have realised why I never felt that Scott was The Hero of the story even if the writers did not stop hammering the idea that he was pure and perfect and always right. He never sacrifices himself. This is a classic of fiction, the hero will always be the one who makes the greatest sacrifices for the common good and for those they love, renouncing happiness, normality and even their own life. 

But Scott never does that. Even in the first season this is very clear. The first few episodes emphasise that playing lacrosse and dating Allison are things he wants, but are dangerous to himself and those around him. The narratively logical thing would be that, after a period of selfish refusal, he would realise that the right thing to do is to give up what he loves until he has better control of himself and his new powers, sacrificing his temporary happiness for the good of others.

Instead, the narrative rewards Scott with control gained through Deux Ex Machina and not hard work, he gets to date Allison and becomes a Lacrosse star without sacrifices and therefore doesn't grow or evolve at all. This keeps up for all 6 seasons. Meanwhile, everyone else around him is constantly sacrificing their safety, sanity and even life for the common good.  And ten years later in the movie nothing has changed. Scott’s still not the one performing the sacrifice, he's still not the hero yet. He gives nothing, but the narrative rewards him with true love. Meanwhile Derek gives his own life to save those he loves he is The Hero.

So. Yes. To all of this.

I have made a countless number of posts about Scott’s development. Specifically, his lack of development. The writers had every opportunity to make him a decent character -- and Posey could have performed it and done everything at least moderately well -- but instead, they caved into Jeff Davis’ whims.

There were other writers in the room who should have held Jeff accountable and written Scott as a proper hero: a hero who sacrifices his own selfish wants for the greater good.

They do not have the right to tell us not to like characters such as Stiles or Derek more because they were the ones who wrote those characters using the hero’s journey narrative that they very easily could have written for Scott...but they didn’t. When the creator of Teen Wolf speaks up against those fans, he has no one to blame but himself and the other writers, and to say anything to the contrary just makes him look like a hypocrite.

You cannot expect your audience to believe your main character is a hero when you do not give them faults to overcome and make them a better person.

They wrote Scott as never taking consequences for his own actions -- instead, they had everyone else suffer the consequences of his actions and had them clean up his mess and deal with the repercussions. (not going into detail here because I have already done so on many other posts)

But when you show characters such as Stiles and Derek dealing with complex emotional and physical traumas and then doing things to try and improve themselves, while also dealing with their own mistakes and growing from them...but then don’t hold your main character to the same standard, how can you be surprised when no one relates to them? The accountability for Scott’s lack of accountability can be traced right back to the writers’ room.

I genuinely could have liked Scott. In fact, when he was being sweet and helping his mom, I loved him! He had the potential to be a fantastic main character...but the writer’s neglected their responsibility as writers.

To put it simply: the writers suck.

The only reason the show lasted was because they had good cinematography, and they brought on some experienced older actors into the cast, and they had two natural talents on screen: Dylan O’Brien and Tyler Hoechlin.

That’s it.

[viric-dreams]

I think one of Jones’ most interesting relationships is between him and the vicar of his church. He’s without question the person Jones is most open with. The man’s known him since his first days in London, connected through the prison’s priest. Especially in those early days, Jones was not in the best state, adjusting to a very sudden and jarring change both physically and mentally, and the vicar had offered him a supporting arm in getting back on his feet and reintegrating into polite society. Jones is incredibly cautious about revealing the extent of what troubles him, but in the early days he was in a far worse position to be able to mask it. The vicar offered support however he could and did not press or question. To this day, that’s made him one of the most important people Jones has. The pair of them are long since on first name basis, and Jones’ visits are more often than not social ones, though he does often come to him for spiritual guidance.

In the months that he was being blackmailed and convinced that the Game was trying to sweep him off of the board, he had spoken to the vicar, had spent many evenings with him. He couldn’t be entirely forthright (the truth of his profession will always hang as a secret between them), and he deeply fears the spiritual and earthly repercussions of revealing to someone the extent of what he feels is ‘wrong’ with him, his most troubled thoughts and feelings. But he’s broached the subject as far as he dares to, come to him seeking some sort of advice or guidance.

Jones knows perfectly well he had no right to snap at the man. It was his attitude, his stress, his own moral failing that had led those venomous words lurking just under the surface to slip free from his mouth. And worse yet, the vicar knew, knew that he’d lost control and lashed out. He wasn’t truly angry, hadn’t even properly banished him. Simply told him to leave until he’d gotten his temper in check. The shame of it pouring benzine on that fire. He couldn’t go back. And with that door slammed shut on his way out his already atrophied social circle narrowed even more. Shortly after, he’d left for the surface, desperate to put some distance between himself and all of the mistakes and discomforts up until that point.

Which is perhaps not the wisest move, when weeks before he’d told the vicar should he disappear without warning to contact those closest to him and deliver the personal effects he’d set aside for them.

It’s one of many relationships Jones is going to have to work to salvage when he eventually returns.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

I have been going back and forth in posting this, but want to have a clean slate and a clear mind going forward.

this fandom if I am being honest (and from experience in many others) has been the most roller coaster ride. it has been wonderful and blossoming, yet also, toxic and disheartening…

my current state right now, I feel as though I have been shunned from the community from all corners. stranded alone, with only a few friends (I could count them on one hand) to talk to and to trust.

I have been incredibly disappointed in this fandom by people I had considered friends, people that I believed to be sincere and kind, but over time showed a very different and ugly side.

I am not going to sugar coat this topic anymore… and be warned, I will call you out if need be, from this point on. I always had hopes that as a community mostly dominated by adults, we would act more like it, but it seems not. then accountability is necessary, because this school yard behaviour is not it.

I work most of the time, I barely even have time for a social life on top of personal things… tumblr is not my priority. but when I log in on here, I do wish and intend for this to be a space where I can relax and enjoy myself, to be creative and write and share my ideas and stories. to interact with people, to bond over characters and stories that I don’t ever get the chance to in real life, because I barely meet people with similar interests.

this is meant to be my safe haven.

recently it has been quite the opposite…

I have been gaslit, bullied & ghosted/neglected. as someone who genuinely struggles to put herself out there, I have made attempts that I am thankful for yet hurt by the experiences. putting myself in discord chats only to leave in the matter of a few days…

I have said this before and I will say it again. If I ever say anything to you directly or indirectly, and it doesn’t sit right with you. I am open to talk privately about it. I am not perfect, in fact far from it. I have flaws as do we all. I can make mistakes, I am human. if the matter can be resolved, amazing, if not: I don’t expect to get along with EVERYONE on this hellsite. the block and unfollow options are there for a reason!!!

regardless, I understand everyone has their own personal lives and issues��� believe me, I DO! I am a huge advocate for life > tumblr. you need a break, take the break. you want to go on hiatus, go on hiatus. you do not owe anyone in this fandom shit, as I have reminded myself as of late. In saying that, showing people common courtesy and decency is not by any means a stretch, it should be the bare minimum.

showing support to your fanfic authors/gif makers and creators is valid and ideal.

I have taken multiple breaks because the stress and exhaustion from my work and personal life has been a lot, that I am able to remove myself from a situation, to not allow anyone else to suffer my ordeal. your actions have repercussions, and you will be held accountable.

to wrap it all up, I will continue to write my little, silly stories, I will continue to read fics. However, I have of recent been so turned off by some of the people in this community, that if I’m being honest (which I also strongly advocate for, and believe I owe whoever read this that), I have no energy to interact with people that have crossed me and made me feel less of the person I am at this point in time. my friends who I respect and admire dearly, know who they are, I don’t need to tell them twice.

when I feel comfortable with this fandom, my interactions may change, but for now. I very much enjoy my small number of friends.

thank you to those who read this entire mouthful, I genuinely appreciate the small things and taking the time out of YOUR day to read and listen to little old me, says a lot.

please take care of yourselves, and I hope that we can create a better more wholesome fandom space.

love always, Hel 🤍

[terukotime]

Hihi guys. I don't necessarily like to engage in fandom "discourse", which I don't really even know if that's the proper term to use in this case, but in regards to DRDTDev's response to a confession on the DRDT Confessions account (I posted a reblog with a response to it directly here, in case you're curious), I want to say something on the situation revolving around the OP of that confession.

I agree that the confession itself was obviously harmful, if unintentionally, and that it was poorly-worded, and overall would have been something better kept to themselves. However, I acknowledge that the anon of the confession is only human, and we all have made mistakes without the judgment or maturity needed to understand the repercussions of it. So I ask to everyone who has been harassing that anon (who has come out on a burner account admitting to being the OP of that confession and apologizing), to please stop.

I 100% agree that the confession made was, in the long run, hurtful and (for lack of a better term cause it's currently 5am as I'm writing this) tone-deaf. But I do sympathize with the anon because I can understand where they were coming from with what they said, though I still disagree with how it was said, and I don't think it should've been said at all.

But to those who have gone out of their way to say some absolutely atrocious stuff to that person, that is extremely out of line. People have said that the OP is a coward for not having posted it non-anonymously, called them horrible names, claimed that they aren't even really sorry, and other abhorrent things. I do understand the anger, but the actions some people have taken against this person are incredibly out of line and not okay.

I understand that this is a fandom of predominantly minors, and I am not a minor myself, so the levels of emotional maturity of many people in this fandom differ vastly. So I won't say anything harmful back to those who have harassed the anon of that confession. But I will say once again that behavior like that is unacceptable, and though you are trying to be in defense of DRDTDev, this is likely not what they want at all, either. You don't need to say such cruel and terrible things about someone who you don't even know who made a mistake, has owned up to it publicly, and has apologized for it. Being upset is one thing. Taking it out on the OP and acting like this is somehow going to be the downfall of the DRDT fandom is in an entire other universe of being another thing.

So please, let the takeaway of this situation be that we all need to be kinder, more mindful, and more respectful to not only DRDTDev but each other within this community. The immediate jump to hostility from some people is both disappointing and disgusting and is not at all how we should be reacting to this situation. Overall, we should be showing DRDTDev our support, our love and appreciation to them and all that they do, NOT going at each other's throats about this and only further proving that DRDTDev has a reason to be afraid of us.

That being said, I want to take this moment to promote @nicohakobyan's idea for a #drdtdevappreciation event, of which I will definitely be partaking in. It's something I think is very much needed at this time, and will be a great way to show our respect and admiration towards the creator, and I highly encourage everyone to do the same!

Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this little PSA, as I feel like this desperately needed to be said before it continues to get out of hand.

Sincerely, the Certified Teruko (and DRDT as a whole) Stan™,

Giselle 💖

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 18

Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well.

Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

He grabbed the letter he had discovered along with the sword before finally making his way to the Emperor.

“Greetings, your imperial majesty. Will you entrust your life to me?” These were Deon's words as he entered Emperor Eduardo's private chambers. He's not even have any intention to make a small talk first.

The Emperor felt no fear from Deon's declaration; instead, he found reassurance in it. "What do you mean?"

"You and I both understand that neither of us desires a lengthy existence. Why not take matters into our own hands?"

"And what about the Duke?" The Emperor was aware that the Duke was somehow involved in Deon's anticipated revenge.

"My brother has handled that. I have defeated the demon king, and you are the only one left who has yet to face my retribution, Emperor Eduardo."

"Don't you want to embrace life? Wasn't your fierce will to survive what made you a hero during the eight-year war? And now, you wish for death?"

Deon sighed wearily at the emperor's words, recalling the struggles he faced during the war and the drive that kept him going. Yet, all of that seemed meaningless to him now.

"Yes, I fought hard to stay alive. I longed for happiness, but my frail body made that a distant dream. Finding joy amidst the chaos of war was simply impossible."

"I held resentment towards those who pushed me to fight. But in the end, I survived, fueled by a desire for revenge."

"Tragically, I ended up taking the lives of my own parents due to a misunderstanding. My brother nearly gave up everything for my sake, and my beloved Adele sacrificed herself to ensure my future..."

"My life feels like a tragic tale, filled with the sacrifices of those I hold dear."

And then he fall his gaze to the emperor, his face looks so terrible, mixed with anger and regret. "Do I truly deserve to live after escaping death at the cost of their lives, all while they wished for my happiness? I wanted them to be alive so I could find joy myself."

"If I am left alone in this harsh world because of their sacrifices, I see no point in continuing this sinful existence. I would rather cast away this meaningless life..."

And then Deon actually looked down the emperor like he is below him. "And what about you, Emperor? Are you certain you still wish to live in this world? Your nephew is eagerly waiting for you to relinquish the throne. Wouldn't your continued existence only stand in their way?"

Deon retrieved the letter from his blazer pocket and tossed it before the emperor. It was a summons for him to engage in battle with another kingdom. "Engaging in wars with other kingdom only serves to destabilize this empire, making it an unsuitable place for a new and inexperienced heir to take the throne."

"Do you really want the crown prince to endure a never-ending conflict because of your desire to fight everyone?"

"Moreover, after just emerging from a battle with the demon king, is it wise to provoke another kingdom and risk defeat? That would be quite humiliating, and the consequences won't fall solely on you, Emperor."

"And also aren't you already struggling with the repercussions of that curse, given your bad karma and a body that no longer heals?"

"How do you know so many things about me, Deon?"

"That’s not important, Your Majesty. What matters is that my reasoning should resonate with you. Your untimely death would allow the heir to ascend the throne without difficulty, freeing you from the burden of your curse."

"That's quite a provocative proposition, Deon. If I were to end your life, would you do the same to me?"

"I approach matters of business with utmost seriousness, Your Majesty. There's no need for you to be concerned."

"Then you would be labeled a traitor in this kingdom. Are you prepared for that?"

"I never sought that noble title in the first place. I don’t feel deserving of it, and to me, it holds no value. Besides, if the Emperor cannot eliminate me, I’ll simply wait to face the punishment for betraying you, your majesty."

The emperor burst into laughter upon hearing Deon's plan to belittle his capabilities, his expression turning fierce as he fixed his gaze on Deon. "So, you think you can take my life, regardless of whether I can take yours? You've truly lost your mind, Deon."

And Deon also made a crazy face, letting out his last madness. "You’re the one who’s truly lost it, Emperor. You’ve turned me into your royal pet. As the king, it’s your duty to manage your own wild beast."

"I see your point, Deon. It seems that only the insane can keep the insane in check. Fine, I’ll entertain your wild notion!"

"Don’t you want to bid farewell to your dear nephews? Don’t you care enough about them to let them live?"

"Not necessary; I can meet my end whenever I choose. I was merely curious—if I couldn’t take your life, would you then take theirs?"

"No, once I’ve dealt with you and you’ve failed to take me down, I’ll simply wait for someone to discover me drenched in the blood of your esteemed emperor. Your nephews are of no concern to me."

"What a heartless way to see my demise become the reason for your capture."

Do you want to answer one last question before I meet my end? May I ask, Deon?

With a look of irritation, he granted the emperor's final wish, "What is it?"

"Why are you doing this? You could have fought and perished in that war, yet you chose to come here to die instead."

Deon’s face twisted in bitterness, as if haunted by a painful memory. "I… I promised her, I wouldn’t kill recklessly again. For me, there’s a significant difference between killing in war and killing out of revenge."

"If I had to choose between fighting you or killing you, I would choose to kill you. I’m tired of war and death. I’d rather end it all by taking your life, and then my grudge would finally fade away."

"Alright, I see." That was their final exchange before they both unsheathed their swords.

The disparity in their strengths was evident. The king, bearing wounds that would never heal, faced Deon, who had risen to the status of a hero, making it clear who would emerge victorious.

As he had promised the emperor, he indeed took the emperor's life, drenched in his blood.

He then poured himself a glass of the emperor's wine, determined to savor it fully, as this would be his last drink.

Then the guards came and saw the situation where the emperor was killed with a very strong smell of blood wafting and Deon who was busy drinking wine was seen.

"Emperor! Your Majesty the Emperor!! You are a traitor, Deon hardt!!!" The panicked guards immediately surrounded Deon who wasn't even surprised when he saw the sharp spears being pointed, he even looked bored by all this.

"Yes, arrest me right now and sentence me to death." He obediently raised his hands, not having the slightest desire to fight the guard.

Then after being arrested, Deon calmly waited for the day of his death, he was visited by his older brother, but that didn't change what had happened to Deon, he would still be executed.

Meanwhile, Lofty's troops who were left behind tried to rebel. But thanks to Deon's cooperation to calm Lofty's troops and disband the troops under Deon's leadership who had betrayed the empire.

The troops who were forced to be scattered ended up living a life outside the army. They no longer kill each other but live peacefully as citizens.

Then the day of his execution arrived, Elphidius, who had not yet been officially appointed emperor, presided over the execution of Deon, the hero of mankind, which was attended by the people who also mocked Deon.

What a tough start for Elphidius.

"Bring Deon Hardt is to be executed here!" Elphidius commanded, inciting the crowd to hurl insults at Deon. He was forcibly taken away, preparing for his grim end.

"Do you have any last words before you meet your end, Deon?!" Elphidius, Allethea stood beside him, both visibly furious.

Their anger was understandable, given that Deon had killed their uncle.

This was the moment Deon had anticipated. "Absolutely, I have something to say! Do you know why I killed the former emperor?"

"I don't know, weren't you just obsessed with doing that?" a voice from the crowd shouted, met with a chorus of agreement.

"Let me explain. The previous Emperor ordered me to engage in battle against another kingdom." A wave of shock rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs of discontent. It was clear they were unhappy with the former emperor's command.

"After our empire fought against the demons, we are short on troops to take on other kingdoms, yet the emperor still insists on waging war. Is he out of his mind?"

"He'll surely draft soldiers from among you, the citizens of the empire, to satisfy his war cravings. This could lead to the downfall of our empire, and Crown Prince Elphidius might lose his throne."

"I couldn't let that happen to our empire or to any of you. So I made the choice I believed was right as a true hero and end him right now..."

"Liar!! You must have killed him because you wanted too, Deon. Even though uncle was good to you!!" The crown prince said he was shocked by Deon's words. He didn't expect that his uncle still loved them both…

"Kind, where does he's so kind, crown prince? Oh yes, crown prince Elphidius and princess Allethea, you were also really loved by your uncle until the end, one of his last questions was whether I would kill you both…"

"Execute him right now." The crown prince no longer wanted to hear anything from Deon. He was already very hurt by Deon.

After the order was issued, Deon was forced to bow and his head was finally beheaded…

But after that rumors circulated that Deon should not have been beheaded, because he was a hero who saved an empire that was maniacal about war…

The End?!?!?!?!?

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This is not the end of my story, but if you're feeling great with this bad ending, it's okay to not see the next chapter.

[dazaiosamusbandages]

ik a lot of peeps said that dazais more than a demon and that he has feelings and that even though he did lots of bad things, he was a kid growing up in a bad environment and yada yada but... doesnt he feel truly demonic sometimes? hes truly a fascinating character to me, but the more i try to understand whats going on in his mind, the more dead ends i hit. its like having a puzzle in front of you and never being able to get the full picture no matter how much you rearrange it. or to put it in a more personal way, his mind feels like an abyss. its dark, cold, vast and chaotic. its very scary to me. maybe its because im around the same age as him when he was in the pm but he really feels inhuman to me. no kid should have this kind of cold and empty energy nor give the impression that they're not real, as if they somehow ended up in this world by mistake. even in the more mellow moments, it always seems like his mind is elsewhere, like three universes ahead, looking for something that's beyond human comprehension. idk, what do you think about this? TuT

sorry for the late response, i have been somewhat busy and thus haven’t had the time really to answer anything

tbh to answer this, i think i’ll try to stray closer to my own personal experiences (as well as some others that i spend time with) to be able to explain that kind of “empty” existence and then connect it back to dazai that way. i think with some parallel to the real world, it might put some of his thought processes into existence

does dazai truly feel demonic sometimes? the realistic answer would be yes—of course the demon of the port mafia would feel demonic. he, himself, doesn’t seem to believe he’s human and everything tends to confirm that. everything including his ability, which also in a way could be interpreted to take away others’ humanity as well.

spending time with a group full of a specific kind of mentally unwell people (jirai, if you’ve ever heard of it) has shown me that a lot of these people tend to dehumanize themselves in the same way you see dazai. they don’t often consider themselves good people, but that self-awareness doesn’t stop them from doing bad things.

dazai does lead a somewhat empty existence, however he does still feel emotion and pain just like anyone else—like when oda died, it was (and is still) very painful to dazai. but even still, emptiness is not a foreign thing. this same feeling of emptiness is what i think leads him to make some of those morally questionable decisions, even despite oda’s final request.

the other thing is, i feel like part of what makes dazai seem so “demonic” in the port mafia is that it gave him an environment where the intrusive thoughts would be allowed to win without an immediate repercussion.

sorry if this didn’t fully answer your question, it was pretty difficult to formulate a good response wwww i still feel like i missed a few things i wanted to talk about too, but they slipped from my mind and i can’t remember at the moment soooo

[lutawolf]

Be My Favorite

I don't think the depth is being explored in Be My Favorite as I think it should be, or maybe it's me just overthinking it.

For me, it seems pretty clear that Pisaeng has feelings for Kawee early on. What I adore most, is that it's truly capturing that confusion that most of us queer go through. That, I don't like him/her, I just want to be friends. That internalized moments of slowly understanding yourself.

Then, as they start to spend time together, he truly falls. It becomes more than a crush.

Now Kawee... I see a lot of opinions that are so different from mine, to the point that I wonder if we are watching the same thing.

Kawee is an emotionally detached introvert. What does that even mean, Luta? These introverts are trauma based introverts who experienced detachment at a very early age. Usually a combination of loss of a significant family member, bullying, and social isolation from peers due to money and ect.

This is very apparent in his childish maturity. He is smart, but he lacks the maturity to get things done, see the big picture, set long term goals, or understand repercussions. We notice a slow maturing with society exposure, because honestly, friendships and experiences are part of the bases for emotional growth. That whole, learn from your mistakes is really a thing.

I also think that it's due to this that he has the obsession of Pear. It's more like a goal and a comfort.

But notice that while he is still going after his goal. His personality changes towards Pisaeng after his return to the future and then once again returning to the past. You have to imagine that some of those feeling of being best friends and maybe even more, lingered. So now we are seeing Kawee battling with his emotions.

Does everyone remember when we first meet Kawee in the classroom. Notice that Kawee is much more familiar and comfortable with females? Even though he hasn't fully bridged the gap of introvert, he is in communication with females and the one friend. I find this important because, in my opinion, Kawee treats Pear as a friend. While he treats Pisaeng the way a female typically treats a potential lover. The way he asks for money, the way he begs for the cute turtle.

It's important to note that neither are showing homophobic tendencies. Kawee clearly has a gay bestie that he adores. They both just haven't found themselves yet, and that's okay. There is the misconception that if you hit college or later and don't realize you are queer that you have internalized homophobia, that's just not true. Take my daughter for instance, both her parents are bisexual, and we're extremely accepting, but it took her awhile to adjust to the fact that her dreams were going to be different from what she initially imagined.

I'm really concerned about the society we are living in, where we are determined to label certain emotions as negative. Like, jealousy, possessiveness, and confusion. We shouldn't because they are naturally occurring emotions. And they teach us about ourselves. They are important to our growth.

Anyway, I'm enjoying the show and I really do think that perhaps it deeper than what most are giving it credit for. Opinions @ellaspore and @bl-bam-beyond

[shysublimecoffee]

It's crucial to emphasize that intentions alone are insufficient; actions play a pivotal role. Unfortunately, Marinette in seasons 4 and 5 failed to grasp this lesson. While her noble intentions are commendable, the series illustrates the repercussions of neglecting the importance of one's actions. Despite her professed love for Adrien/Chat Noir, her missteps in her partnership and the finale, particularly her decision to gaslight her love interest about his father being a hero, are significant.

The writers' tendency to downplay her actions and portray her as a white knight savior for Adrien is cute but troubling, considering her lack of control or involvement in his family affairs. The episode "Ephemeral" stands out to me as an irredeemable moment marked by lies. Despite fandom attempts to justify her behavior, the stark reality remains. Marinette, now diverging from her initial likable qualities, falls short when compared to strong female characters from shows like early Winx Club, Totally Spies, and Lolirock. She now mirrors Master Fu's approach closely, but the expectations in the fandom are disappointingly low when it comes to understanding her partner. She's quick to suspect him of hiding something, yet when the tables turn, excuses abound. Despite being a guardian and team leader, there's a tendency among fans to overlook her actions. True feminism and leadership involves inspiring others and supporting those in need, yet she doesn't even try in these aspects.

The recurring theme of Marinette's mistakes, coupled with her lack of evident growth, raises questions about the character's development. The fact that she is 14 intensifies the concern about the lessons being imparted to the show's target demographic. Despite fan theories, the internalized lessons seem questionable, especially for young viewers who are placed in situations like Adrien or Chloe, what do they learn? From what I got from the show... the narrative casting Adrien as the virtuous victim and Chloe as the villainous victim is disgraceful. The notion that personal growth and change are unattainable is a lesson that no one should adopt is messed up. Now looking back critically examining the show, instances where Marinette defends or apologizes for Audrey or Gabriel's abusive actions which are very troubling makes a lot of sense because this show is abuse apologist and because she's our titular character she's the voicebox of the show "messaging" . While some viewers may sympathize and defend her based on their long-term attachment to me the show having the potential negative impact on the younger audience cannot be ignored.

The disappointment of those deeply invested in the series is understandable, but for those with a more detached perspective you might feel fortunate like I do to have a more detached perspective on this front.

[maevelin]

Actions and consequences

Let us count.

Penelope did not enjoy:

The announcement of her engagement

The night of her engagement

The night before her wedding

The day of her wedding

The first night of her wedding

And I understand there are and have to be consequences to her actions and being Lady Whistledown comes with a price and once her identity was revealed she had to pay for it.

BUT...

Even though as I viewer I enjoy drama and angst I would like to also enjoy the balance of the resolution.

I think that they could have devoted 5 to 10 minutes to balance out all the above. Penelope has a good heart. She made mistakes when she was what? 16 to 19? In a very restrictive society that ostracized her. I get it that there should be repercussions. But after that?

So in the epilogue of her story I would have liked to see her happiness more. The wedding ceremony itself was happy along with their wedding breakfast dance but it was not complete happiness (either at the preparations of it or after the Queen showed up and given the tension between Colin and Penelope).

We got some seconds of a sex scene in their bedroom in the end..I mean...okay?

And we know she must have had a happy pregnancy with Colin by her side (although I am not so comfortable with the fact that they had to tie their epilogue with a baby so soon given Penelope's age). We know they are happy with their newborn. We know she helped him edit and publish his book. We know she is starting a new beginning as a columnist and so on. We know that but we didn't see that. We only got glimpses to imply that.

So yeah. That left me wanting for more and feeling as if the season ended without delivering all that it could.

Now we get to wait for two years at least until the new season and hope we get tidbits of that happiness there but given how they won't be the main couple and we will -and rightfully so- focus on the new main ship, even those moments will be off focus.

[songsofbloodandwater]

My psychology of modern culture class had a discussion about unpopular opinions, and the one that kind of silenced people is the Cancel Culture creates a bigger divide among diverse groups than actually accomplishing any good. I wanted your opinion on it, cause your takes are usually pretty insightful.

Hello Anon!

So I've been thinking about the answer to this for a little while, and the short version of it is that cancel culture is colonial behavior. Incredibly colonial. Like, the very definition of colonial.

I've only ever seen people engaging in that type of nonsense when they're disconnected from indigenous values and ways, and deep as hell on dystopian evangelical-esque ideas like "the world is ending/dying" and "humanity is beyond salvation". Even people of color who claim to be "antiracist" and "decolonial", their words speak to antiracism and decolonization but their behavior reflects colonialist white supremacist ideals to a T.

Cancel culture seems to react to people's wrongdoings from a deeply held belief of irredeemability. That "humans are doomed, the end is coming" line of thinking. That whatever we do won't be enough to fix anything, in this case, whatever that person does won't ever be enough to fix their wrongdoings. Which don't get me wrong, can sometimes be the case (rape or murder come to mind...) but not always. Not to every little stupid mistake. Hell, not even to most serious offenses. It is an extreme approach that is applied often too loosely and without care for the wider social repercussions of this. Like people getting "cancelled" over owning a starbucks cup during a boycott (when they probably already owned it, heck, they could've gotten it second hand or as a gift from a friend, their money never even went to starbucks).

And like any colonial tactic, white supremacy benefits from this. The way that I see it go 99% of the time is simply an overlap with priviledge. You see, Cancel Culture is based on irredeemability, and that irredeemability is supported by a lack of real consequences. Because if there's nothing that could ever redeem this person, then there is nothing that person can or should do about it, and there's nothing we can possibly do to fix the situation either, and ultimately there's no reason to act, to do or change anything, for anyone. Which is wrong.

Say a white woman gets "called out" for saying something racist. "She's cancelled" they scream, "just ignore her!" and "you already know how she is...". No one expects her to change. No one expects the racist behavior to cease and with the addendum of priviledge (racial, economic, etc) she suffers no consequences. No consequences for her actions, no social pressure to change, in fact, cancel culture gives her social acceptance, because in their eyes "that's just how she is! can't expect anything other than a kick from a mule!" and that's justifying her racism. Acting like it's some innate quality, when it's learned, and it can, and should be unlearned. Further, the bubble that cancel culture creates around that person only does two things: 1) isolate them from people with different thinking, who could guide her towards unlearning racism and changing her ways and 2) radicalizing the individual further, the "call out" puts the whole spotlight on them, and it attracts other racist individuals to support their racist actions, the isolation then creates an echo chamber that keeps feeding them racist ideas on loop, effectively pushing each other to more and more extremist far-right ideas. Cancel Culture builds a far-right pipeline.

Let's not even get started on the colonial violence that cancel culture perpetuates. Nothing is ever open to discussion. Circumstances and the bigger social web of things don't matter. Cancel Culture acts like those white people who say they don't see color. It's all ridiculously reduced to one phrase, one object, one person. You have that starbucks cup in your hand which must mean you're a genocidal maniac. Therefore, you deserve to be punished, you deserve to suffer. You know what it does then? incite more violence, more often than not, towards those who do not have positions of power to singlehandedly decide the fate of the world, but hey it sure does make for some punching bags for the masses to take out all their pent up anger on the wroooong individual! and in the process ignore the bigger systematic issues that are actually the cause of the problem!

For black and indigenous peoples of color, what I've seen is that it separates members of our communities into smaller categories according to what kind of small access to priviledge they have (those who have more economic means, more education, access and control over resources that others need, racial priviledges or the ones perceived by white supremacy as 'proper') and then they also get isolated and radicalized. It tears apart our communities setting us against each other. None of us benefits directly from our in-fighting, but white supremacy does, neocolonialism does. It keeps us away from seeing ourselves as one united front and the systems of oppression as our common enemy, it keeps us focused on those differences created purely out of colonial thinking rather than our own common culture, knowledge and power, it keeps us disorganized. And this tactic is old. Like old old. Back when the spanish and portuguese were first bringing in enslaved africans to south america, they didn't completely ban our Ancestors from having their own music and culture. They made us organize ourselves in religious groups (under christian banners) separated by language, culture and beliefs, then separated us further by blood quantum and closeness to their perceived whiteness (the casta system, which has mutated into modern forms of colorism, featureism and other forms of racist classification). The reason? The Colonizers believed firmly that they could maintain the enslaved population under control for as long as we perceived enough differences and maintained the in-fighting. They knew that if we all shared one cause and one language, if we could find ways to identify as one People, we would have the tools to get past those initial differences and organize more effective rebellions. This type of shit has been happening on this soil for well over 400 years y'all.

In modern times, it keeps our communities separated from the resources we need, by making sure that those few that may have access to resources don't side with us, instead doing everything they can to find some past mistake or some "reason" to separate ourselves, and in the worst case, that causes them to identify and side with the oppressor. Regardless of how the oppressor actually sees them. They're not white. They'd never be accepted as such by white people. Yet they're functional to white supremacy.

Sure, some people can't be redeemed. That doesn't mean there's nothing we can do about them or the situation overall either. What can be unlearned should be unlearned. What harm can be dismantled should be dismantled. And we must learn to center the victims, not the victimizers, in our discussions of any interpersonal issues. We must ask ourselves "what can we do for the victims, how can we make this space safe for the victims, how can we support the victim back to health" so on and so forth. And when it comes to systematic issues, adress the system, not the individual. Diverting your focus from system to individuals and their very biased, limited, individual experiences is one of the ways that capitalism-racism-neocolonialism protects itself, by treating individual people as scapegoats and individual experiences as justifications. By acting like colonialism or racism is a "one person, one act" thing, when it's systemic. Don't fall for it.

Honestly what I need people who engage in call-out and cancel culture to understand is that we don't do this uniquely out of pain and we don't react to colonial violence with the same kind of violence. We separate ourselves from colonial thinking and act with purpose. And that purpose is our kin, not the oppressor. Through our own ways, not the ways of the oppressor. Our purpose is the Rectification of ways of living and in the process, ensuring the wellbeing of kin and community, all in healthy relation to the land we're in. Kin isn't just people, and it's not just your people. It's the Right Relations of humans amongst ourselves and with other species, of all kinds. Yes, sometimes it will require violence to rectify things. But many other times, it will require compassion, and love. We must be able to dispense both effectively and wisely. And a 100% of the times it will require community building.

Don't let the oppressor turn our Purpose into an empty contest for social capital that they mean to use in exchange for individual priviledges further trapping us in the racist-colonial system. We want out of it and we must always work towards getting out, together with our communities, and for our communities. From Our People, for Our People. From Our Ways of understanding and living, back to Our Ways of understanding and living.

[what-if-i-just-did]

Destiel Prompt List 13. Human!Impala ships it.

Trigger Warnings: temporarily implied vehicle theft, mention of fake death, mentions of carseks, mention of internalized biphobia, implied sexy times, using humor to deflect

Baby, Why Haven't You Yet?

"...." "Dean? What's wrong?" Sam said, looking from his brother to the place he was staring at. "Baby's gone." Dean said blankly, like his brain hadn't quite caught up yet. "I parked her right there! I swear." He said, pointing to an empty parking space. "Dean, maybe you're just getting your landmarks wrong. The Impala didn't just dissapear." Sam says, exhausted from the hunt. Witches, man.

"You think I'd just misplace my Baby?! I know where I parked her, Sammy. See? It's two spots away from the grafitti and right next to this double-parking douche. She's gone. Someone stole my Baby!" "Dean, calm down, I'm sure it didn't- uh hi, yeah?" Sammy was cut off when a guy tapped his shoulder. The guy was wearing jeans and two flannels, he had dark hair and he was barefoot.

"Hey." The guy said, in what can only be described as a bedroom voice. "Uhm. Hi? I'm sorry, do I know you?" Sam said. The guy's eyebrows raised. "Well, I'd like to think so. You've only been riding me for years."

Dean's eyebrows raised.

Sam nearly choked. "Uh, Wh-ha??- "

-----

Once the situation was cleared up, it was almost funny. The guy wasn't really a guy at all. He was.. the Impala. Those witch-bitches? Yeah. They magicked his frikkin' car. Dean was not happy. Sam still thought it was kinda funny. When they asked him what they should call him, he'd said he liked it when Dean called him 'Baby' and they should just call him that, and he'd winked, which gave Dean that moment of bi panic he always had which Sam found hilarious.

They'd jacked a car and gone back to the Bunker, where they called Cas, because honestly, what were they supposed to do with this?

They'd started looking for some way to reverse the spell, but with the witches already dead, most ways to reverse a spell were out of reach. Rowena was currently on a stretch of 'being dead' so they didn't call her. (At this point, nobody believed it when Rowena, or Gabriel, or Crowley was dead. There was this unspoken rule though, not to contact someone if they were 'dead' unless it was an apocalypse-size emergency)

Sam piped up about the fact that they hadn't even asked Baby if he wanted to get changed back, and Dean shut him up about it.

-----

Then someone mentioned something about how Dean was such a womanizer and Baby said something that would have some.. repercussions. "Oh I remember that... You haven't had sex in my backseat in quite some time, Dean. It's a shame, I would have loved to see you and the Angel. You have a bed now, of course, but I do miss it."

Baby didn't realise everyone had stopped moving untill he looked up again. "Why are you staring at me? I thought we got past that part."

-----

"What do you mean you're 'not like that'? Dean Winchester I have personally witnessed you being had by more than a few drunken mistakes worth of men in my backseat, don't you dare get biphobic on yourself. Have you and Cas really not gotten together yet? You both love eachother and Lord knows you find him attractive. What's the issue exactly, it's been years for Chuck's sake."

Now everyone was staring at Dean. Who was kinda sorta maybe turning incredibly red and tried to play it off with humor. "Uh. Not cool, Baby. You can't just out someone like that, and add the fact that I'm a bottom. This is betrayal, you know." He said, and nodded.

"Dean..?" Sam tried. "Sammy, just... I know, okay?"

"Dean... " Cas said deeply. "I-.. I know, Cas, I'm sorry, I never-" and oh.

-----

Sam could handle a little making out, but he's fairly sure he was gonna need ear bleach for the sounds that happened when Dean and Cas stumbled to Dean's room, joined at the lips.

Taglist: @ldthegreen

(yes we're imagining John Barrowman as Baby okay)