#Environment testing lab

[ekotestinglabs]

Exploring Environmental Excellence: A Comprehensive Look into EKO Testing Labs

In this comprehensive blog, we delve deep into the world of EKO Testing Labs, uncovering their state-of-the-art facilities, cutting-edge methodologies, and their unwavering commitment to environmental excellence. Join us on this journey to understand how EKO Testing Labs is playing a pivotal role in safeguarding our planet.

[420technoblazeit]

i love making tumblr posts out of something i just said on discord. if i ever dm you a joke and then you see the exact same thing on tumblr worded differently know that i was using you as a test subject. you are a little rat in a sterile environment and i am a lab coated scientist recording your response to the stimuli in isolation, nodding and going I See. quirkier punctuation would elevate the joke beyond its current comedic potential, i think. run the experiment again in a broader environment igor. we must create the Perfect Joke

[labmatescientific]

Dual Flow Airborne Particle Counter

Labmate Dual Flow Airborne Particle Counter measures and monitors airborne particles in various environments, ensuring optimal air quality and industry compliance. Essential for cleanrooms, labs, and healthcare, it features a 1-10 min test period, 2.83 L/min and 50 ml/min flow rates, 15W power consumption, and weighs 2.6 kg.

[geddy-leesbian]

I can write 12 year old Leon so damn well,,,, then I try to write Sherry or Lucia or any other kid that age and my brain just MELTS 🙃 idk man

[farelabsgurgaon]

Environment And Pollution Testing Lab - FARE LABS Pvt. Ltd.

Fare Lab, NABL Approved Environment Pollution Testing Lab in India,We have Highly trained staff is in place for doing ambient air, DG stack emission, indoor air, noise level, light intensity and gases sampling and analysis. Visit us- https://farelabs.com/services/testing/environment-pollution-testing-lab

[mrlindia6065]

Environmental Testing & Mechanical Testing at MR LAB

Environmental testing can ameliorate product robustness, product  trustability and  product processes,  adding  yields and reducing bond charges and exposure. The  posterior relinquishment of environmental testing  ways by the  marketable electronics assiduity has been gaining  instigation ever ago. Increased product robustness and  trustability,  bettered  product processes and reduced bond charges are some of the benefits that have been realized.

[qwikskills]

A powerful tool for developers and IT professionals looking to gain hands-on experience with Azure

Azure Cloud Labs is a powerful tool for developers and IT professionals looking to gain hands-on experience with Microsoft's Azure cloud platform. These labs provide a sandbox environment where users can experiment with different Azure services and features, without the need for a full-scale deployment.

One of the key benefits of Azure Cloud Labs is the ability to learn and explore Azure at your own pace. Users can access a wide range of pre-configured labs, covering topics such as virtual machines, storage, networking, and more. These labs provide step-by-step instructions and guidance, making it easy for users to understand the concepts and features being covered.

Additionally, Azure Cloud Labs also provide an opportunity for users to test and validate their own solutions, without the need for a full-scale deployment. This can be especially useful for testing new features, troubleshooting issues, or experimenting with new configurations.

Overall, Azure Cloud Labs is a great resource for anyone looking to gain hands-on experience with Azure, learn new skills, and test their solutions in a safe and secure environment. Whether you are a beginner or an experienced professional, Azure Cloud Labs can help you take your Azure knowledge to the next level.

[incorrectbatfam]

What is each of the batfam members approach as a tutor to a student/hero trainee?

Dick: locks them in jail for a few weeks (so they know what it's like and won't abuse their power by throwing people in left and right)

Jason: makes them deliver birthday presents to late henchmen's children (people are multifaceted, action have a ripple effect, and taking lives should only be the very last resort)

Tim: hosts a trivia night where he asks them questions about an anime that doesn't exist (to test whether they lie their way through or admit they don't know)

Damian: asks them to assist him, criticizes them when they do, and repeat (being a hero can be a thankless job but they have to brush it off and do it all over again)

Duke: makes them read a book at a concert and quizzes them after (vigilantes are surrounded by distractions and need a laser focus)

Cullen: makes them beta-read a bunch of bad Wattpad fanfics (desk work is tedious but just as important as fieldwork)

Stephanie: sticks them in a customer service job for a month (they have to deal with all manner of civilians while maintaining a positive image)

Cassandra: sets a trash can on fire, bursts a water pipe, and releases a bunch of rats (multiple things can happen suddenly and they have to know how to triage)

Barbara: makes them watch a movie marathon that keeps buffering (investigative work is a lot of waiting around and seeing what happens)

Harper: has them fix a car with the wrong instruction manual (what's being ordered isn't always what needs to be done)

Carrie: hires a bunch of actors for a giant game of Where's Waldo (attention to detail in a fast-paced environment)

Kate: offers a sparring session as an outlet for pent-up emotions (they pass the test if they don't take her up on it—vigilantes shouldn't be fighting for personal catharsis)

Helena: invites them to a formal vigilante job interview but keeps rescheduling (until they assert themselves and establish clear boundaries)

Luke: invites them to the Wayne Enterprises lab and spills a beaker of vinegar without stating what it is (understanding emergency protocol and facilitating effective communication)

Bette: gives them a 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle but puts the last piece in a locked box (she'll give them the key—they just need to ask her for help)

Alfred: makes them organize files in the Batcave while something is going down on the field (they can't always be there and have to compartmentalize)

Selina: volunteers them to clean up after a three-day music festival (crime scenes are gross and they need a strong stomach)

Bruce: plans a last-minute dinner party and puts them in charge of the kitchen staff (taking leadership and knowing how to delegate)

[regressionschool]

Maturity Test Part 1

The waiting room buzzed with a nervous energy, a mix of anticipation and dread that hung thick in the air. Rebecca fidgeted with the hem of her dress, her fingers tracing the lace pattern absentmindedly. Beside her, Olaf was tapping his foot, his face a careful mask of indifference, though the slight tremor in his leg betrayed his unease. Anna, the calmest of the trio, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture straight, and her expression serene.

At twenty years old, they had all reached the first critical milestone in their lives—the Maturity Test. Every person was required to take it at twenty, and then every five years after that. The test was designed to determine their place in society, not just in terms of their roles and responsibilities, but their very lifestyle. No one knew exactly how the test worked; it was a closely guarded secret, passed down through generations, the results shaping the course of every citizen’s life.

A door at the far end of the room opened with a quiet hiss, and a woman in a crisp white lab coat stepped out. “Rebecca Green,” she called, her voice soft but commanding.

Rebecca stood up, smoothing her dress one last time before following the woman through the door. Olaf and Anna exchanged a glance, but neither said anything. What was there to say? They had all grown up together, gone through school together, and now this test would decide their futures.

The door closed behind Rebecca, sealing her into a small, sterile room. A single chair sat in the center, facing a large screen. The woman gestured for her to sit.

“Relax, Rebecca,” the woman said, her tone soothing. “This will only take a few minutes.”

Rebecca nodded, though her heart was pounding in her chest. She sat down, the chair surprisingly comfortable. The screen in front of her flickered to life, displaying a series of images, words, and scenarios. Rebecca tried to focus, answering the questions as they appeared, making decisions, reacting to scenarios, all while trying to keep calm.

After what felt like both an eternity and only a few seconds, the screen went black. The room was silent, save for the soft hum of machinery. Rebecca’s hands gripped the armrests of the chair, her knuckles white.

Finally, the screen lit up again, displaying a single word in bold letters.

TODDLER

Rebecca stared at the word, her mind reeling. Toddler? What did that mean? But before she could process it, the door behind her opened again, and the woman in the lab coat re-entered, this time accompanied by a man in a similar uniform. He held a small bundle in his hands.

“Rebecca, your classification is toddler,” the woman said, her voice still calm. “This means that, from now on, your lifestyle will be adjusted to fit your new status. This includes, but is not limited to, the wearing of diapers, a supervised environment, and the cessation of adult responsibilities.”

The man stepped forward, handing her the bundle. It was soft, wrapped in pastel-colored fabric. Rebecca’s hands trembled as she took it, unfolding it to reveal a thick, padded diaper. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Your new caretaker will meet you shortly to explain everything,” the woman continued. “Please follow the attendant, and they will guide you to your new quarters.”

Rebecca could barely move, her mind swirling with confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sense of resignation. She was led out of the room, clutching the diaper to her chest like a lifeline.

As she passed by the waiting room, she caught Olaf’s eye. He gave her a tight, sympathetic smile, but there was nothing he could say. Anna, still composed, offered a small nod, acknowledging Rebecca’s fate.

The door closed behind her, leaving Olaf and Anna in silence once more.

“Olaf Lindstrom,” the same woman called, and Olaf rose to his feet. He walked through the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

The process was much the same. The questions, the scenarios, the flashing images on the screen. But Olaf’s mind kept wandering back to Rebecca, to the diaper in her hands, to the word TODDLER that had flashed on the screen. Was that really her future now? What would his be?

When the screen finally settled on his classification, Olaf felt his heart skip a beat.

PRESCHOOLER

The woman re-entered the room, but this time she held something different—a package of pull-ups, adorned with cartoon characters and bright colors.

“Olaf, your classification is preschooler,” she said. “This means that while you have some independence, you will still require supervision and assistance with certain tasks. You will wear these pull-ups, and your activities will be limited to those appropriate for your status.”

Olaf stared at the pull-ups, a strange mix of relief and disappointment washing over him. He wasn’t a toddler like Rebecca, but he wasn’t classified as an adult either. He was stuck in some in-between stage, not quite a baby, but not fully independent.

He was led out of the room, clutching the pull-ups. When he passed the waiting area, Anna’s eyes met his, her expression unreadable. She offered him a small, reassuring smile, but Olaf could see the concern behind it. They had all known that their futures would be decided today, but none of them had expected it to be so drastic.

Finally, it was Anna’s turn. She walked into the room with her head held high, her steps confident. The test followed the same pattern—questions, images, scenarios—but Anna’s mind was calm, focused. She had always been the responsible one, the one who took care of her friends, who excelled in school, who made the right decisions.

When the screen displayed her classification, Anna felt a sense of vindication.

ADULT

The woman in the lab coat entered, holding nothing this time. She simply smiled at Anna, a warm, approving smile.

“Anna, your classification is adult,” she said. “You will continue to live as you have, with full responsibilities and privileges. You have passed your Maturity Test.”

Anna nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. But as she left the room, her thoughts drifted back to Rebecca and Olaf, to the diaper and the pull-ups, to the new lives they were about to lead.

As Anna walked out of the room, she glanced back at the door where Rebecca and Olaf had exited. Her heart ached for her friends, especially for Rebecca, who had been reduced to a toddler by the system. But she knew there was nothing she could do. The classifications were final, and everyone had to live by them.

As she continued down the street, Anna silently vowed to check in on Rebecca and Olaf, to be there for them despite the gulf that had just opened between their lives. Because while the system had classified them differently, they were still her friends, and she wouldn’t let that change.

Anna walked up to the familiar house, the one she had visited so many times before, yet it felt different now. It had been two years since the Maturity Test, and so much had changed. She had just finished her BSc, an accomplishment she was proud of, but now that she was back home, she felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation about reconnecting with her old friends, especially Olaf.

As she approached the front door, Anna could hear muffled laughter from inside. She knocked gently, and within moments, the door swung open to reveal a beaming Olaf. He looked almost the same as she remembered, but there was something different about his demeanor—something softer, less assured.

"Anna!" Olaf exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he pulled her into a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you!"

"You too, Olaf!" Anna replied, hugging him back tightly. "It’s been way too long."

Olaf stepped aside to let her in, and as Anna entered the house, she noticed the subtle changes. The living room had a more childlike vibe now, with toys neatly arranged in one corner and colorful educational posters on the walls. A large stuffed animal sat on the couch, and there was a faint scent of baby powder in the air.

Olaf looked a little different too. His clothes were casual, a bit more childlike than she remembered—loose overalls and a bright, playful t-shirt. And there was a visible outline beneath his overalls that hinted at something... padded.

Lilly appeared from the kitchen, wearing a soft smile and holding a tray of snacks. She looked every bit the doting caregiver, dressed in comfortable clothes that belied her new role in Olaf’s life.

"Anna, it’s so great to see you again," Lilly said warmly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "I’ve heard so much about how well you’ve been doing."

"Thanks, Lilly," Anna replied, returning the smile. "It’s good to be back home, even if just for a bit."

Olaf began chatting animatedly about his life, clearly eager to share.

“So, I’m in preschool now,” Olaf said, his voice carrying a mix of pride and something else—a hint of embarrassment, maybe? “It’s... well, it’s different from what I thought I’d be doing, but I’ve made some really good friends there.”

Anna nodded, listening intently. “That’s great, Olaf. What kind of stuff do you do in preschool?”

“Oh, you know, we have story time, arts and crafts, and lots of outdoor play,” Olaf said, his eyes lighting up as he talked about the games they played. “It’s really fun, actually. And we have nap time after lunch, which is... kind of nice.”

Lilly chuckled softly, ruffling Olaf’s hair. “He’s the star of the class, aren’t you, sweetie?”

Olaf blushed deeper, looking down at his juice box. “I guess...”

Anna smiled, sensing the comfort yet slight awkwardness Olaf felt in this dynamic. “Sounds like you’re doing great, Olaf. It’s good to see you so happy.”

But then Lilly’s expression turned slightly mischievous. “Olaf, why don’t you tell Anna about that big milestone you hit last year?”

"And, uh," Olaf continued, his tone shifting slightly as he glanced at Lilly, "I also... well, I passed 'Unpotty Training I' last year."

Anna blinked, taking in the information. She had heard of Unpotty Training classes but hadn’t really considered what that meant for someone like Olaf. The idea of Olaf, her old friend who used to be so independent, having accidents like a toddler was hard to wrap her mind around.

Lilly, however, looked absolutely delighted. "He did so well in that class," she said proudly, as if discussing an academic achievement. "He’s such a good boy. He was one of the first in his class to have real accidents."

Olaf squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "I-I guess..."

Anna glanced at Lilly, noticing the way she gently but firmly guided Olaf’s behavior. There was a subtle push and pull in their dynamic—Olaf trying to hold on to his independence and maturity, while Lilly seemed eager to encourage his regression. It was an intriguing contrast.

“That’s... really interesting,” Anna said, trying to be supportive while still processing the situation.

Lilly smiled, sensing Anna’s curiosity. “Olaf’s doing great in his preschool class, and he’s learning to embrace this new phase of his life. But, of course, I’m here to help him with whatever he needs.”

Olaf looked at Anna, his expression somewhere between pride and a plea for understanding. “It’s been... different, but Lilly’s been really supportive. She... she helps me a lot.”

Anna watched the interaction, noting how Lilly’s influence seemed to be gently guiding Olaf further away from the maturity he was trying to cling to. It was clear that Lilly enjoyed her role as a caregiver—no, as Mommy.

"So, what happens after these five years?" Anna asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Lilly’s eyes gleamed slightly as she looked at Olaf. "Well, after five years, we all take the Maturity Test again. Depending on how things go, Olaf might stay a preschooler, or... maybe he’ll move on to the next smaller stage."

Olaf’s blush deepened as he looked down at his hands. "I don’t want to move backward, Anna. I want to stay a preschooler... or maybe even move up, if I can."

Lilly chuckled softly, clearly amused by his determination. "We’ll see, sweetie. There’s no rush. For now, let’s just focus on enjoying where you are."

Olaf looked up at her, his expression a mix of resignation and affection. "Yeah... I guess you’re right."

Anna walked through the bright, cheerfully decorated halls of the regression school nursery, a place she never imagined visiting until now. She hadn’t seen Rebecca since before her classification, and she wasn't sure what to expect. The walls were lined with colorful murals, depicting scenes of playful animals and idyllic nature, clearly designed to be soothing and engaging for the residents. The soft hum of lullabies played in the background, adding to the nursery’s serene atmosphere.

Finally, she reached the room number she had been given and knocked gently on the door. A moment later, it swung open, and Anna was greeted by a young woman with a warm smile, dressed in a uniform that marked her as one of the caregivers.

“Hello, you must be Anna,” the caregiver said kindly. “Rebecca’s been talking about your visit all week. She’s just inside, playing with her toys.”

Anna smiled back, feeling a mix of emotions—anticipation, curiosity, and a twinge of sadness as she stepped into the room. It was spacious, filled with soft, pastel-colored furniture, and various toys scattered across the floor. In the middle of it all sat Rebecca, her back to the door, completely absorbed in stacking brightly colored blocks into a wobbly tower.

Rebecca was dressed in a simple shirt with a cartoon character printed on the front, and Anna’s eyes were immediately drawn to the diaper peeking out from beneath it. The thick padding crinkled softly as Rebecca shifted.

“Becky,” Anna called softly, using the childhood nickname that felt oddly appropriate now.

Rebecca turned around, her face lighting up with a broad, innocent smile that made her look younger than her twenty-two years. “Anna!” she squealed, dropping the blocks and crawling over to her friend. When she reached Anna, she wrapped her arms around her legs in an enthusiastic hug, her diaper crinkling loudly with the movement.

“Hi, Becky,” Anna said, crouching down to return the hug. She was struck by how different Rebecca seemed. The way she moved, the way she looked up at Anna with wide, expectant eyes—it was as if Rebecca had truly turned into the toddler she had been classified as.

“Wanna play blocks with me?” Rebecca asked, her voice slightly lisped, whether naturally or from the regression, Anna wasn’t sure. “I’m makin’ a big tower!”

Anna smiled gently. “Sure, I’d love to.” She sat down on the plush rug next to Rebecca, who immediately returned to her task of stacking blocks, her small tongue poking out in concentration.

As they played, Anna observed her friend closely. Rebecca’s mannerisms were so childlike—the way she clapped her hands in delight when the tower didn’t fall over, the way she babbled excitedly about the different colors and shapes of the blocks. It was clear that Rebecca had regressed quite a bit since her classification.

“So, Becky,” Anna started, picking up a block and turning it over in her hands, “how have you been? Do you like it here?”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing with the movement. “Yeah! It’s so fun! I get to play all day, an’ the caregivers are really nice. They give me cookies when I’m good!”

Anna smiled, though there was a hint of sadness behind it. “That sounds nice. And you’re happy?”

“Uh-huh!” Rebecca chirped, not a care in the world as she continued stacking her blocks. “I don’t hafta worry ‘bout big girl stuff anymore.”

Anna nodded, watching Rebecca with a mix of concern and curiosity. The girl in front of her was so different from the Rebecca she once knew—carefree, unburdened, but also entirely dependent on the nursery and its routines. It was a stark contrast to Anna’s own life, where responsibility weighed heavily on her shoulders every day.

As they continued to play, Anna couldn’t help but notice something strange—Rebecca’s diaper, which had been dry when she arrived, was still dry. She had been there for nearly three hours, and Rebecca hadn’t shown any signs of needing a change. It struck Anna as odd, considering everything she’d heard about regression schools and their “residents.”

But as the hours passed, Anna started to see small signs. Rebecca would squirm a little more, shift her weight from side to side, and occasionally pause in the middle of talking or playing, as if she was distracted by something. Anna noticed but didn’t say anything, not wanting to embarrass her friend.

Finally, after about three hours, Rebecca paused mid-sentence, her eyes going wide for a moment. She looked down at her diaper, then back up at Anna, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. “Uh-oh...” she mumbled softly, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and a hint of relief.

Anna watched as the colorful designs on Rebecca’s diaper began to fade, the telltale sign of it absorbing wetness. There was a faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and then Rebecca sighed softly, a look of contentment spreading across her face.

“I did a pee-pee,” Rebecca said quietly, almost to herself, as she absentmindedly patted the front of her now-soggy diaper. There was no shame in her voice, just a simple acknowledgment of what had happened.

Anna reached out, gently rubbing Rebecca’s back. “It’s okay, Becky. Do you want me to get someone to change you?”

Rebecca shook her head, leaning into Anna’s touch. “No, it’s okay. I’m comfy.”

Anna continued to rub her back, noticing how Rebecca seemed completely at ease with her situation. "You really seem to enjoy it here," Anna said softly.

Rebecca’s smile faltered for a moment as she looked down at her soggy diaper, then back up at Anna. "Well... I heard that if I'm a good little girl and don't put up a fuss, they might let me grow back up before the next... matur... matuwity... test," she said, struggling with the word.

Anna’s eyes widened slightly. “Maturity test?”

Rebecca nodded, a proud smile spreading across her face. “Uh-huh! If I’m a good girl and don’t make a fuss, maybe when it’s time for the test again, I can grow back up!”

Anna’s heart ached a little as she listened. It was clear that Rebecca had latched onto the idea, hoping that by being the perfect little toddler, she might get a chance to return to her previous life. Anna wasn’t sure if that was really how it worked, but she didn’t want to burst Rebecca’s bubble.

“That’s a good plan, Becky,” Anna said softly, pulling her friend into a gentle hug. “You’re doing great.”

Rebecca beamed up at her, the simple praise enough to make her day.

[pigeonpeach]

Jealous harbingers

Warning: yandere like tendencies or behaviors but not fully. Also ofc jealously and violence

Characters: Childe, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Arlecchino, Columbina, Sandrone

Childe is definitely the worst when it comes to jealousy. He’s number 11 so he’s eager to rise up the ranks, but he also refuses to bring you around the other harbingers because he worries they’d use you to get to him. And it would work. Hook line and sinker. Even if its innocent. The only harbinger he’d let you around is Puncinella and that’s because the guy is like family to him so of course he doesn’t mind. But if he must he has you close 24/7. He cuts off his colleagues if they get too comfortable and is quick to show displays of affection as of means to dissuade anyone. He also will leave enough hickies to make you look like a dalmation

Capitano is actually very calm when jealous. For the simple fact that scenario is incredibly unlikely to happen. No man is stupid enough to flirt with his partner, especially when you’re consistently guarded and accompanied. Not even Dottore would risk his wrath. But if some idiot does decide to try they won’t last long. Like at all. He will just grab them by their skull and toss them like they’re a lingering piece of garbage. He will not leave hickies on you however because with his strength that could actually do serious damage and he just refuses to risk hurting for that. He will likely have you wear his insignia in some way on your outfit if you go out without him.

Dottore is worse but hes good at covering for it. Like Captiano he is less likely to let you be alone in public without him or underling. But he knows you’re a beautiful sight so you would catch a eye or too. You won’t know that the underlings avoid your gaze because the last few that lingered their gaze quickly became test subjects of some horrible experiments. He is also not stupid enough to show you off to the other harbingers. You’re likely in your own wing of the lab building in a comfortable environment with attendees far from where any colleague of his is allowed to go. Although he will probably get jealous of his clones. The younger segments are more neutral towards you but the older ones are more likely to try and hold you or kiss your hand while he’s not in the room. It’s quite a mess for him.

Pantalone is not like Dottore in that he will show off his prized jewel in the appropriate settings. They wear custom matching outfits meant to clearly indicate they are his, jewelry paralleling his own, with a hand on the waist at all times as he mostly dominates conversations with strangers or colleagues. He is proud that you are his. He makes it well known. In public he is usually not so touchy minus holding you. But if he notices the lingering gazes and jealous stares he gets he won’t hesitate to stoke those agitation as a way of showing dominance. For instance he may pull you into s dance in which he keeps you pressed so close to him. He may pull you in for a quick kiss or a long one depending on how mischievous he is feeling.

Arlecchino

You’ll need not to deal with such things. More likely than not you’ll be busy in the orphanage. The rare occasion she allows you to accompany her is for special events she thinks you would enjoy. Often times your shared children are also brought as body guards to you. So you won’t be left alone. If any would be suitor comes by they’ll swiftly redirect them and engage if they get violent. But if a harbinger were to try their luck…. Arlecchino will not hold her tongue nor keep up appearances as she pulls you from the conversation and kindly reminds said harbinger to keep their hands to themselves. Once you’re home safe and alone however her teeth with be in your neck making enough hickies to make you into a leopard.

Sandrone

You are her most prized possession by far. Beautiful puppets and such. She is seldom seen in public or in events. Often sending underlings in her stead. It helps she’s also not nearly as social able or diplomatic. But she is a very jealous lover. She hates the idea of anyone else having eyes on you. She may subtly influence you to stay by her side more and more. Not even the most arrogant harbinger would dare to challenge her.

Columbina

She is actually least likely to be jealous. She’s a odd woman. But if she didn’t think you would stay loyal then she wouldn’t have let you out of the house today anyways! Your attire is tailored and customized to match hers. Sometimes you dawn a veil as she thinks if she sees your pretty face too much she’ll loose all restraint and just get carried away with you. Truly a strange woman. Not even the most reckless of harbingers would challenge her.

[ekotestinglabs]

EKO TESTING LABS - Your Trusted Environment Testing Partner

EKO TESTING LABS is a cutting-edge environment testing lab dedicated to ensuring the safety and sustainability of your surroundings. Our state-of-the-art facilities and expert team conduct thorough tests to assess air and water quality, soil composition, and more. With a commitment to excellence, EKO TESTING LABS provides accurate and reliable results, empowering businesses and individuals to make informed decisions for a healthier, greener future. Visit us for your environmental testing needs.

[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. 

[wachinyeya]

‘Ferrari in a junkyard’: Mules sold at auction are rare, endangered horses

https://washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2024/08/09/przewalskis-horses-rescued-dna-shrek-fiona/

Hannah Huckabay regularly combs livestock auctions online for horses she can rehabilitate and train at her Colorado ranch. But when she saw a video in February of a mule for sale in Kansas, she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

The stocky animal’s short black mane shot straight up like a mohawk, and its white belly stood out against its tan coat. As it nervously paced in its corral, Huckabay said it bore a striking resemblance to Przewalski’s horse, a critically endangered species she’d learned about while studying equine science.

“I was like, ‘There is no way. That is not a mule,’” Huckabay recalled thinking. “That’s a purebred Przewalski.”

Such a find would be incredibly rare. Once extinct in the wild, around 2,500 Przewalski’s horses remained worldwide as of 2022. They’re native to Mongolia and in June, seven were reintroduced to nearby Kazakhstan as part of an effort to return them to their natural habitats. They are the only truly wild horse remaining (mustangs are feral horses).

But scientists say Huckabay’s hunch appears to be correct. Hair samples from the animal Huckabay purchased - along with a second horse recently surrendered at a Utah sanctuary - were sent to Texas A&M University’s animal genetics lab. Both appear to be Przewalski’s horses, said Rytis Juras, the genetics lab’s director who tested both samples.

The hair test looks for genetic markers associated with different horse breeds to determine an animal’s likely ancestry. Unequivocally confirming that the horses are purebred Przewalski’s and not hybrids would require advanced blood tests that are expensive and would mean sedating the equines.

The blood tests look at the number of chromosomes in a horse’s cells - 66 in a purebred Przewalski, versus 64 in a common horse or 62 in a donkey. An even more advanced version could sequence the horse’s entire genome.

But Juras and two other scientists who reviewed the findings said the hair-test results are reliable.

“If I would have gotten it from a zoo … that would be one thing,” Juras said of receiving the samples. But two random tests with Przewalski’s results were “surprising and a little bit disturbing,” he said. “This is weird.”

How the horse Huckabay found - and the second in Utah - ended up in livestock auctions is a mystery, said Christopher Faulk, a professor of animal science at the University of Minnesota who has studied Przewalski’s horse genetics and also reviewed the DNA results.

“Someone had to have known what they were, they don’t just appear out of anywhere,” Faulk told The Post. “Especially to have been disposed of in that way is even weirder,” he said, since livestock that aren’t purchased at auction can end up in slaughterhouses.

“That’s like finding a Ferrari in a junkyard,” he added.

Huckabay bought the animal for $1,375 in February and, after three weeks in quarantine, the ragged and underweight animal sold as a mule arrived at her ranch outside Denver.

Seeing its features in-person left her even more convinced it was a Przewalski’s horse, she said. With a large clunky head and stiff black mane, her daughter said the horse was so ugly, he was cute, Huckabay recalled. They named him Shrek, after DreamWorks’s beloved ogre.

After almost two months of helping Shrek acclimate, Huckabay’s daughter stumbled upon a video posted on June 9 from a sanctuary in Utah.

“Did we just have a Przewalski mare surrendered?!” the caption read.

Kelsey and Gunnar Bjorklund - who own the Lazy B Equine Rescue and Sanctuary in Utah - suspected their mare was also a Przewalski. But they had no idea there was a second possible Przewalski, saved from another auction.

The Bjorklunds’ horse was brought to their facility after being purchased for $35 in January at an auction in Utah, where she was advertised as a mule.

“It takes more money to get your nails done,” Kelsey said, adding that her previous owner decided to surrender the mare after she flunked out of a professional training program.

When the horse arrived and was unloaded from the trailer, “we were just in shock,” Gunnar said. It was clear the animal wasn’t a mule or a mustang, he said.

“Anyone getting possible Przewalski vibes!?” the Bjorklunds posted. “A true wild, endangered species of equine‼️ How cool would that be!”

In response to seeing the Bjorklunds’ viral video, Huckabay’s daughter posted her own videos of Shrek two days later. One got over 11 million views.

After coming across Shrek’s video, it was easy for the Bjorklunds to settle on a name for their mystery horse - Fiona, the princess-heroine from the Shrek movies.

The rescuers were stunned that two possible Przewalski’s horses could have surfaced almost simultaneously. The Endangered Species Act allows private ownership of endangered animals, but only with a permit, and under strict stipulations. The law prohibits the possession of illegally obtained endangered animals or their transport across state lines without permits.

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service declined to comment on whether officials are investigating the horses’ chain of custody.

Some livestock auctions have occasionally served as hubs for illicit trade in exotic animal species.

Because most Przewalski’s horses descend from only about a dozen surviving individuals, scientists closely manage breeding genetics for diversity. Compared to the feral mustang, Przewalski’s are more resilient, said Dolores Reed, a biologist who helps oversee a small herd of the endangered horses at the Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute. Przewalski’s horses are built for the Mongolian steppe’s harsh climate, she said, adding, “they’re very tough,” and can be unpredictable.

There are about 100 Przewalski’s horses in U.S. zoos, Reed said.

Shrek and Fiona are adjusting to their new environments, their owners said. After keeping his distance from people and trotting in circles in his pen while stressed, Shrek has relaxed and moved to a larger field. He has bonded with two gentle mares and while he won’t accept treats from people’s hands, he loves when apples and carrots are left in his feed bucket, Huckabay said.

“He’s very piggy,” she said.

In Utah, Fiona has put on weight and made friends with a miniature mule and a quarter horse filly at the Bjorklunds’ sanctuary.

The rescuers wonder what would’ve happened if Shrek and Fiona hadn’t been saved. The endangered animals might’ve been sent to slaughter “and nobody would have known about it,” Gunnar said.

Huckabay and the Bjorklunds plan to care for the horses as long as needed, but said they’d prefer to see their rescued Przewalski’s move to a professional conservation program.

Shrek is happy on the ranch, but Huckabay said she’d rather see him with “a herd of his own.”

“That would be the best-case scenario,” she said.

[magicalink]

The "Experiment"

Albedo is quite obsessed with pussy. In a scientific way of course! And you're the only female close friend he has. So he asks you to let him run an experiment to exhaustively explore it. You accept. And you come to realize that he's interested in it in other ways too...

Taglist: @dainsleif-when-playable @chaotichearts-19 @huachengscrustybandages @scaraskzzs @mizokowashere @xxventiswindblumexx @twistedw0nd3rland

Cw: Albedo x f!reader smut. Use of the words 'sexual harassment' once but it's just part of a conversation, to clarify that this is not Albedo's intention. Pls this is just a very unrealistic fictional situation between two adult friends who are horny with each other but pretend not to be because one of them is not even human and both are socially awkward. Please if a doctor starts touching you like this try to run away and go to a safe place and report it as soon as you can!

A/N: Sorry for the delay, I hope that if you were waiting for this story this post finds you well and you enjoy it.

“Okay Y/N, I’m about to start,” the blond man said, his voice as silky and calming as always.

You gulped, looking up at him. You were lying half-sitting, not to mention half-naked, on his examination table. Your back rested on a soft pillow and your panties on a chair next to the table. Albedo had made you open and flex your legs, exposing your whole vulva for him to explore. He was hovering over you, ready to start his tests.

He noticed you were uncomfortable.

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” He asked with his ever-sweet voice, using that soothing doctor-like tone that he used to try and make you feel more at ease with him.

You shook your head, trying to look convincing.

“I'm just cold…” you replied, at least saying something true. Without your panties, your soft parts were feeling chilly. Even if his lab was well covered from the merciless environment of Dragonspine, it wasn't precisely warm either.

“Oh, don't worry, I won’t be using the cold metal medical tools,” he said casually. And you looked visibly confused.

“What are you using then?” you didn’t even finish your sentence when you saw him tightening up his gloves. But not the latex medical gloves! 

Albedo looked at your horrified expression and spoke before you could complain, aiming a warm smile at you.

“Again, don’t worry Y/N, these aren’t my everyday gloves, but a prototype of gloves specially designed for this kind of procedure.” he explained "They are completely clean, so you don't have to worry about any kind of infections."

“Okay,” you visibly relaxed on his hard, cold table. With that beautiful smile, with those beautiful eyes, you were unable to distrust him. You loved his eyes so much, they were eclipsing, calming. You got lost in them within seconds just like you always did. 

It almost felt unreal how you two were completely alone in the medical section of the lab. Behind closed doors. Just the two of you. You wished you could have an intimate conversation, learn more about him.

But then you remembered you were laying in front of him showing him your pussy and suddenly you couldn’t look at his face anymore, so you averted your gaze. 

You felt as if your cheeks were burning.

“You can start anytime,” you said, pretending to be calm.

He smiled again.

“Wonderful.”

And you gulped again, your heart beating so damn fast. Geez. His voice, his looks, everything about him was so mesmerizing. You felt like you were getting drunk on his presence. 

You made your best effort to not make the situation more awkward. To pretend this was a professional doctor-patient situation. To pretend you were not crazily attracted to him and to not make him feel uncomfortable. You didn’t want him to think that you were a pervert!

You tried to imagine you were somewhere else to avoid feeling aroused.

But it was hard.

You were so focused your heart skipped a beat and you made a little jump when you felt his warm fingers touching your pussy.

Again your cheeks felt like exploding.

“Relax...” he said, caressing one of your legs with his other hand, trying to get you to be less stiff. 

But he did you worse, since his silky touch on your skin sent a pleasurable shiver up your spine. You bit your lip in frustration. It was impossible to contain the wetness that appeared down there.

Albedo looked at your juicy vulva and gently pressed a finger in between the inner labia, preparing to slide it in.

You swallowed heavily and tried to breathe deeply, but it was useless since automatically your knees got pressed together and your pussy became wet and warm.

He tensed his lips when your knees wouldn’t let him see.

“Do you think you can open your legs wide for me?” he asked kindly.

Surprisingly, you were able to refrain from moaning something along the lines of “I could always have my legs open for you, Albedo.” with a stupid face and a sultry tone, and instead muttered a low “Sure” and complied slowly.

You hoped with all your heart that your expression didn't look lewd. You just never thought he would say such words to you.

“Relax Y/N, otherwise it will hurt”, he said with a kind smile and tone.

You nodded. But you begged it to hurt. You begged it didn’t feel good. You begged that no moans escaped your mouth so you contracted all of your body on purpose.

And it seemed like he was trying to torture you. To expose your true feelings.

He caressed the opening of your vulva vertically from up to down repeatedly with his thumb, while his other fingers were delicately massaging your outer labia. His other hand kept one of your legs in place to prevent them from closing. This made you go crazy. You were so horny!

What the heck were those gloves made of?! They felt amazing! Warm, soft, textured!

 You could feel how the area was getting more and more humid, and that seemed to please Albedo.

“See? That's better, the natural lubrication that comes from your body will help so that it doesn’t hurt,” he explained and continued giving you a pleasurable massage, caressing and touching, sinking his fingers a millimeter in just to pull them out again, playing shamelessly with your pussy until it was a dripping mess.

You arched your back in response to the pleasure and covered your ashamed gaze with the inner side of your elbow.

“I'm sorry.” you lamented. How sinful, putting up such a show for just a simple examination. It was impossible that he didn’t realize what was going on.

But he was immutable.

“Don't get embarrassed Y/N, it’s a completely normal reflex. When something gets in contact with the vulva, a woman's vagina starts releasing its lubricants to prepare for the insertion of something,” he explained in a relaxed and professional tone, showcasing all he had recently learned.

You cursed in your mind. 

“Sure, but it doesn’t get this soaked unless she is extremely horny!” you thought. But you just nodded, your eyes still covered. You couldn’t believe you were so desperate for him.

You just let him continue, now it was inevitable to keep your legs open for him, what was hard was containing the sounds of pleasure.

After caressing your whole vulva with his open palm one last time, he slightly separated your labia and approached the fingers of his dominant hand.

“Ready?”

You nodded with your still-covered face, trying not to cry and start apologizing for being such a pervert.

“Okay, I'm getting in.”

And with those very inciting words, he slid his index finger in between your folds, slowly entering your pussy. You gritted your teeth together when you felt him getting in, it was just too good.

He looked satisfied when your pussy accepted his finger, gradually wrapping around it.

“Just like that, veery well…” he dragged his words with a calming, deep, silky voice that made your legs spread wider and your pussy drip wetter. Then he started making a circular motion with his finger inside of you, making you rejoice in pleasure. It was so hard to pretend you didn’t like it so bad.

“Is it okay if I slide it fully in?” he asked.

You exhaled heavily through your nose, trying not to cry. “Why? Why do you have to pick such provocative words, Albedo?” you thought. It almost felt like he was doing it on purpose…

“Does it hurt?” he asked, a bit worried. It was still a bit hard for him to read your expressions. Were you putting up a good act after all?

“No, no, it’s ok. It’s just weird,” you said, again, at least saying something true.

“Ok, do you think you can take another one?” 

You were taking anything from him at this point. You just nodded.

“Ok, here I go…” 

Was it just your impression or was he dragging his words very sexily?!

After repeatedly getting a finger in and out of your pussy until it was stretched and relaxed enough, he inserted both his index and middle finger in, sliding them in slowly until they were both completely in.

Damn. His fingers were so long and slender. But the glove made them so thick. And your arousal made your pussy really tight around them, making you feel completely filled by them. He was stretching you with expert movements, causing too much pleasure to let it go to waste. You had to bite your tongue to avoid sticking it out.

“I’m sorry, Albedo,” you thought, surrendering to the satisfaction of his hot agile hands. “It’s impossible not to enjoy this.”

You sat back and relaxed, allowing your blush to break free and go up your body, painting it a soft pink.

You finally let out a sigh, tired of battling. The only part you kept hard was your face, furrowed in a wince to cover your sinful delight.

“Does it hurt, Y/N?” was he really fooled by your expression? Such a smart man?

“Yes…” you struggled to pronounce. How shameful, lying to Mr. Albedo like that. To such a proper man…

“How about this?” …or was he??

You witnessed in disbelief how he used his thumb to gently rub on your clit while he kept scratching your g-zone with his index and middle finger.

“Ah…” a soft moan finally escaped your lips. You locked eyes with him, accusingly. He gave you an apologetic smile.

That made you snap. All of this time feeling ashamed and blaming yourself for feeling so aroused! But now it was clear to you that none of the things he did were innocent.

Both of your masks fell off. Such hypocrites. None of you were being professional. Both of you were lying, and in a very cowardly way, to avoid making the final move to admit their feelings to one another. But to taste the waters in this way? The epitome of unprofessional! The whole medical thing was just a façade! Shameless. Completely shameless. You didn’t expect something like this from him.

All of this "experiment" request was probably just an elaborate plan for him to see if you would bang him.

You were mad. But you had been thirsty for him for such a long time…and you never thought he would reciprocate. You were happy. No, you were more than happy, you were ecstatic. You wanted to jump to him from the table like a tiger to devour him.

But he was so shameless! He didn’t deserve it. Teasing you in such a way while pretending to feel nothing! Unacceptable.

You wanted him to go further, to expose himself, to reach a point in which there was no doubt that those were his intentions from the beginning. He deserved it. He had been such a bad boy. So if he really wanted you, he would have to earn it.

"Mr. Albedo, why are you touching my clitoris?" You asked with feigned innocence, hoping to make him feel guilty. "Is it part of the experiment?"

You watched in delight as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat under his star-shaped birthmark as he gulped down nervously. But he managed to keep the rest of his calm façade.

"Yes, Y/N, don't worry. It's needed to make sure the experiment goes well." He said, projecting that aura of being completely sure of himself that he always had. But your very sensitive pussy could feel his previously relaxed fingers tense up inside of you. Shameless. If this dude wanted to bang you, he’d have to beg for it.

"Ok, I see." You smiled politely, doing your best acting ever, as you sat back and made yourself comfortable on the examination table. 

"Yes, let's continue…" he said with his deep and silky voice, sure he was back in control of the situation. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"By the way, Mr. Albedo," you said with an ample smirk. He looked down at you with a curious smile. Your whole demeanor had changed. You looked completely at home on his examination table, arms crossed behind your now laid back head, legs spread open around his arm whose digits were lost inside your warm depths "You never told me what this whole experiment was about." You said nonchalantly.

It was true. He had never told you the details. He had just pleaded you to help him and had earnestly told you that you were the only woman in the world he could ask such a favor from. And of course, that tactic worked, you had accepted with very little reluctance. Because you wanted to help him, of course, but also because of how big of a declaration of trust and intimacy that request was.

Even if he had pretended it was something professional. Even in those fake circumstances, you felt proud. To be the only woman close enough to Master Albedo, an artificial human who was often aloof to most people, seemingly uninterested in forming relationships with others. Your heart had raced at the thought that despite having Sucrose by his side for such a long time, the recent bond he had formed with you had made you the only suitable candidate for such a delicate matter. Because it meant that even if he didn’t reciprocate your lust and desire, he still felt quite close to you and trusted you.

And now here you were, unmasking Master Albedo’s true sneaky intentions. A wide, toothy smirk was splayed across your now confident face, satisfied that you caught him red-handed. Oh Archons, this man was reckless. He was simply unhinged. He loved to play with the limits of human relationships, tasting the waters as if it was an experiment, throwing savage jokes at people with the most subtle words and straight innocent faces. Despite not being human, he knew exactly how to treat them, how to play them. And that made you want to fuck him even more. He was so hot, so funny, so fucking alluring. And seeing his eternal confidence falter for the first time in your life was hilarious. You wanted to see the seemingly know-it-all, I-dont-have-human-desires chalkboy drool with a fucked-out face after being done with him.

“Ahem, well, Y/N, this experiment…” Albedo gulped, hesitating for a single moment before reading your expression, realizing how hungrily and shamelessly you ogled the golden, star-shaped mark on his throat, how wide and satisfied your grin was, how bright your eyes glinted with lust for him. And his smile came back to him, stretching his lips in a grin that reflected relief and also sweetness. 

“The experiment was a success,” he said, looking down at you with a fond expression. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics.

“Oh really? Why so? What were you testing, Master Albedo~?” You kept on punishing him with your teasing. You weren't letting it slide, he didn’t deserve it. If he really wanted you, he would have to admit his sin, and his feelings for you.

You watched, delighted, how his Adam’s apple bobbed yet again under his golden star with a lewd sound. You could swear his pants had already tightened. He had told you numerous times you had no need to address him so formally. Yet you were always “Mr. Albedo this, Mr. Albedo that”, and despite him desperately wanting you to address him informally for some confirmation of closeness, that did things to him. 

And now you called him “Master Albedo” to punish him? Archons, that did make him feel things previously unknown to him. He had never felt anything like that before, much less for such a silly nickname. Sucrose called him like that all the time, and he had never felt anything weird about it. Yet here you were, making him feel things. Crazy things. He already knew you were special to him because you made him feel things he had never felt for a human, or for anyone, before. And this only fueled his wild desire for you further.

And now it was clear.

“The purpose of the experiment was to confirm or deny if you bore any kind of sentiment towards me,” he said with a kind smile, looking down at you with his ever-calm and soothing eyes. “And given the results, I think I can confidently say that you share the feelings of fondness and desire I bear towards you.” He finished in a conciliatory way, begging for forgiveness with that sheepish smiley face.

“You know that in the human sphere, this could be considered deception, abuse of power and sexual harassment, don’t you?” You asked with an expressionless face, taking a disinterested look at your nails. Albedo’s already light skin suddenly went completely pale, his cyan eyes opening wide as saucers in a terrified glare.

“Wait, r-really?” you heard him stutter for the first time in your life. The hand he had inside your pussy felt like it had turned to stone and he used the other one to grab a big notebook from the bookshelf, one full of papers and loose notes, that he skimmed frantically, trying to decipher where he went wrong.

“Yeah. I hope it’s not necessary for me to write a report to the Knights of Favo…” you continued with your cold act. But Albedo couldn’t care less.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, his ice-blue eyes filled with worry. He kept his fingers inside of you, scared that, as he had studied, pulling them out suddenly would hurt you. “Did I offend you?” 

You dropped the act and gave him a satisfied smirk because he passed the test, he had the reaction you had hoped for.

“I’m gonna forgive you just this time, because you’re not a human and you didn’t know what you were doing,” You said with a smug grin, observing him up and down, checking him out, still lying back with your arms comfortably crossed behind your head.

You could see Albedo quietly sigh in relief. He, who didn’t need to breathe. His body visibly relaxed and his skin recovered its natural color. He was about to make some snarky comment to try and get the upper hand again when you shushed him:

“But from now on I expect you to get your research on humanity right, chalkboy,” You said teasingly with a toothy grin.

And you heard him gulp. That golden star in his throat bobbed deliciously again, making you want to just jump at him and bite it already. But you were making him beg. And you felt triumphant upon seeing his reaction.

Chalkboy. His lips curled in a smirk. He felt giddy inside. You swore you could see his gray trousers getting tighter again. He took a step closer to you, who still laid arms crossed and legs open in his examination table, smiling wide at him.

Chalkboy. Did you really just call him chalkboy?

A year of battling for you to stop calling him Mister and now you were finally engaging in playful banter with him, and even called him a nickname? A mocking nickname on top of that??

To him that was the pinnacle of human interaction. He had been experiencing human-like sexual phenomena due to you for a while, but now you just gave him the stiffest boner of his life. He had been experiencing desires lately, but just now you made him straight up wanna fuck like he was made of flesh and blood and had the same animal nature that built your cells. He wanted to mix his cells with yours, in the filthiest way possible.

Chalkboy. He loved it. His experiment was a success, now he knew that no matter how you called him, whether it was with honorifics or informally, it made him feel good in different ways. But if you called him chalkboy…

“My dear Y/N, I promise you that from now on I’ll be much more careful in my research with human relationships,” he smiled sweetly and flirtatiously, hovering over you on the examination table, his free hand caressing your cheek “I want to kindly ask you: if you do indeed reciprocate my fascination towards you, do you want to be my partner in this journey to study the complexity of human relationships? I promise this time there will be no more secrets between you and me, and I want you to be the one to guide me,” he asked with a sweet gaze, his eyes hypnotizing you more than ever. You had never seen them filled with such fondness, with such affection, and most importantly, you had never seen them glazed with…lust.

That apology, that display of affection, and that confession of desire were enough to your hungry heart, so you smiled back at him, your heart racing excitedly. You giggled and held onto his hand that was on your cheek with both your hands in an equally affectionate way.

“My dear Albedo, I’d be delighted,” you said with a sweet smile that turned naughty when you pulled him closer. “I’m no expert though, I still have so much to learn too, and I’d love to do it with you.”

Both of you giggled when reading a second meaning in your words. You felt your pussy throb when you saw Albedo’s face contort in a teasing, seductive expression, and then you remembered his fingers lost in your depths.

“You don’t know how happy I am, Y/N…” he whispered, slowly starting to move his fingers again inside your folds that instantly reacted to his caresses. They started to renew the lubrication around his fingers, and a little mewl of pleasure escaped your lips. Albedo placed a finger from his other hand on them, as if studying your mouth and your reaction, lust and curiosity battling inside of him to take control. Before he could lean down to kiss you, you interrupted.

“What’s up with these gloves, Albedo?” you protested, tugging at the glove on his hand that was on your face. They were in the way, you wanted to be with him skin to skin “Did you make them with the sole purpose of sticking them in my privates or what?” You chuckled.

“Yes,” he smiled. The excitement he felt each time you called his name without honorifics was still hard to contain for him “I built them to ensure maximum pleasure.” He said, recovering a bit of composure.

You looked at him skeptically. You had asked that as a joke, you weren't expecting something like that. You were impressed. Human men would invite you to dinner (at most) if they wanted to fuck. But this chalk boy went all the way to build a sex toy, something you didn’t know if it even existed in Teyvat to begin with, for you. You let that sink in, observing him with your mouth agape.

Hm, first Venti and now him. This thing of fucking supernatural beings was going to become a custom, you could feel it in your blood…or rather, in your clit…

And it was the most exciting thing that you had ever felt in your unnaturally long life. After centuries of numbness and dullness, this was the kind of thrill that made you feel truly alive for the first time ever, something that you only experienced since you woke up in Teyvat less than a year ago. So you held onto those feelings and sensations for dear life.

“It does feel pleasurable,” you smiled up at him. The gloves made his slender fingers double the thick, absorbed the heat of your body to make them extra warm, and even had the texture of round tacks over its surface, letting him scratch every single pleasure point inside your folds with ease.

“I’m glad they work as intended. I really wanna put them to the test right now…” he said and you knew he meant business. The way he started fingering you stole your breath away and now you were moaning as your legs threatened to close again from the sensitivity.

“W-were you investigating how to finger a woman too??” You giggled teasingly in between moans, his deft fingers working wonders at turning your pussy into a drenched mess.

“Of course. I wanted to ensure that I would be able to take you to the point of orgasm,” Albedo nodded, his words still too methodical for your amusement.

“And where did you study that? Did you ask Kaeya for tips?” you stifled your giggle with your hand.

Albedo laughed as well, enjoying this moment of intimacy and bonding with you.

“Of course not. I’ve just been studying the anatomy of the vulva and the vagina, and taking into account the numerous…” you interrupted him.

“Come here,” you said softly, your eyes softening as well. You motioned him to pull his fingers out and to lean further down, pulling him close on top of you. You looked him in the eye, you looked at his lips, at his star birthmark, then at his eyes again.

You both locked eyes, lids slowly dropping and pupils gradually dilating. Albedo liked this. The beginning of intimacy. Studying it was fascinating. Experiencing it was enrapturing.

“No more books for a little while, ok?” You whispered, running your fingers through his gorgeous blond hair that you had always dreamed of touching. It felt like silk. Golden strands of silk sliding between your fingers “Just for a while. Just two people who like each other and want to be close…” you proposed, blushing profusely at the implication of your words “C-can we?”

“Y/N, I…” his golden eyebrows rose over his icy eyes, mouth agape as a little breath escaped his delicate lips again, even if he didn’t need it. He hesitated. Many thoughts coursed through his mind, his expression looking somewhat guilty.

“Please,” you implored with your eyes pulling his hand away from the quill and the notes “You can write down your notes after we finish, ok?”

“But what if I forget…?” Albedo sighed with a longing expression.

“Nothing worth remembering will happen if you don’t come close and focus on me. On us,” You said blushing, looking at his lips to avoid his gaze, embarrassed “This experiment is very different from the ones you normally do. Trust me, ok? I’m no expert, I’m new to this too but the only thing I’m sure about is that you just gotta relax and flow with the moment…I learned that the hard way,” you whispered, getting your fingers lost in his golden hair.

“Y/N…” He mumbled, looking down at you as his lids slowly covered his blue irises.

You tensed. How to convince this chalkboy? You started to babble with a pleading tone:

“Please. It’s different. Because even if you’re still the scientist who wants to analyze the data, this time you’re part of the phenomena you want to study. And this is not an exact science, if you don’t focus and let loose that phenomenon is not going to happ…” Finally, his lips clashed against yours, ending your insistent speech. Finally, you convinced him.

“Y/N…” he mumbled again, his intense eyes piercing yours with a longing gaze “I wanna make something unforgettable happen now. Not just something worth studying, something worth remembering. For both of us.” He admitted. You saw him blush for the first time, unsure if he had done the right thing by kissing you like that.

“That was a great first step…” you smiled sweetly, calming his nerves, and pulling him closer.

It felt weird when he held you while his hands were still covered in those textured gloves, but the kiss you exchanged was so good nothing else mattered at that moment. His lips felt so nice. Solid, cold, rough, but in a nice way. You pulled him even closer until he was straddling you on the examination table, making it creak. 

You made out while you caressed his hair and scalp, he smelled and tasted so good. Like vanilla, sweet flowers, and…somehow, icy. His body felt so unnaturally cold to the touch that you felt the need to give him a bear hug to warm him up. 

Meanwhile, Albedo felt in heaven. So in heaven, he let go of the quill and notes. More than anything, he was a curious soul and loved having new experiences. And this was his first kiss ever. So he also allowed himself to explore something new without monitoring it meticulously for the first time ever. It was like a whole new world of exciting things had been opened in front of his eyes, along with a new challenge: learning everything about it without endless analysis and report sheets. Just two people, exploring their bodies and letting themselves burn in the tension and the feelings that had been building up for months.

“Umf…” Albedo kept discovering things about himself, and he loved that. First, he discovered he was an avid kisser. He kissed you exploring every nook and crevice of your mouth, enjoying the new world of smells, flavors, and textures that was your body. He kissed you with no limitation because unlike you he didn’t need to make pauses to breathe.

“Sorry,” he chuckled with a sweet smile, releasing you as you started to gasp for air. “I think I’m finally getting carried away…” a smug smirk played on his pale, delicate lips.

“Great…” you smiled back, truly glad, as you normalized your breath before placing your hands on his shoulders.

He was so lost in the kisses that it took him a bit to realize that you were tugging at his clothes. Right, this experiment had more steps. He wanted to experience more! 

“Want me to disrobe…?” He asked with a kind yet teasing expression.

“Please…” you nodded, blushing when you realized just how needy you sounded, getting bright red when he chuckled in response. All that horniness you had been trying to suppress for so long finally had the chance to escape.

Between giggles, Albedo balanced himself on his knees while you tried to help him undress. You were of very little help in undoing the intricate belts and buttons of his eccentric attire (which you wondered if never got uncomfortable for him to wear), but he appreciated your intention nonetheless. 

You felt a little flame rise in your lower belly when he discarded his giant coat and you saw him in a plain blue shirt, undone buttons exposing that star on his neck that you wanted to devour so much. You took your hands to the shirt and this time you were quick to undo all of its buttons, revealing his lean and slightly toned midriff. 

Fuck he was hot. His alabaster-like skin had a subtle ethereal glow, just like his hair. He looked like some kind of angel. One with a very horny look on his face. Your heart raced, you had never seen him like that. You had seen his eyes with a teasing expression countless times before, but never lit up with desire. You couldn’t believe you were the one he desired. You didn’t understand how or why, but there was no point in questioning it right now, you just had to take this opportunity, he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Maybe even more…

You caressed his shoulders when you pulled his shirt down, leaving it hanging from his elbows because you thought he looked even sexier that way. His skin was smooth, soft, and his flesh was firm. 

You pulled him down on top of you and you entangled in a passionate kiss again, your hands pawing at each other’s hair and backs.

You had to make little pauses to breathe, making his desire grow uncontrollably for more and more. He liked experiencing for once a feeling so strong that he had to make an effort and restrain himself so he could give you time to get your much-needed oxygen. 

In one of your pauses, you finally acted on your primal desires and placed a hand on the back of his neck to press him down onto you and bit his star-shaped birthmark. He let out a joyous moan he didn’t know he was capable of producing as you licked and nibbled at his golden star, his Adam's apple protruding under his delicious neck. Damn, just damn, you turned him on in a way he had never felt before. He didn’t need oxygen. He needed you.

“Ah…” you moaned too when you felt him hump your bare pussy, arousing you further. You looked down and saw his slacks bulging needily. You blushed when you realized you had stained his fly with your juices.

Albedo had no option but to let go of you even if for a brief moment to release himself from those pesky pants that were getting in the way of that desperately needed connection with you. He looked down at himself for a moment to admire, amazed, the way his pants formed a tent like never before. This, too, was a new experience for him. He had been having these physical reactions for a while, when his desire got awakened by you. But he had never been this stiff, this throbbing. This desperate. Like he was finally part of the animal kingdom. He liked it. He enjoyed it. 

He quickly undid his metallic belt with a swift movement, making a lewd sound that made you arch your back, and just the sight of your pussy bucking up and pleading for him made him open his eyes hungrily and he throbbed again. He needed you right now, so he didn't even bother to take off his pants. He just unbuttoned them and pulled them down enough to take his aching cock out.

He looked at it for a brief second, still taking in the sensation of seeing and feeling himself like that for the first time. He had never been so erect, so worked up. His cock was so sensitive that every pump of his artificial blood felt nice each time it made it throb, swaying slightly as it poked out of his underwear.

You were mesmerized, almost drooling as you saw such a delicious sight. That cock was so perfect, so immaculately white under its golden frame, pale pink hues etched delicately onto the pulsing veins on its upper side and onto the desperate tip. He was bigger than you expected. Not too big in length, but in girth. He was so thick it made your pussy throb in anticipation. 

It was such a piece of eye candy that you made a futile attempt to get up from your laid position to try and grab him to, put him in your mouth. But Albedo didn’t even realize, and he didn’t give you time to do it. He was so enraptured by this animal awakening that he pushed you back down onto the table without even thinking. His hand was wrapped around the base of this organ that captured your attention so much, holding it firmly just to push it directly into your needy core. 

And that’s exactly what he did. He didn’t waste time. He used his hand to guide it like he knew what he was doing and you felt its pale tip rub against your clit before it slid effortlessly into your drenched depths.

“Ah…~” a needy moan escaped your lips as you finally got the desires you had been suppressing for months fulfilled in an abrupt thrust that stretched you out just the way you liked. 

As he released the base of his cock, he gave you an analyzing look to check if your whimpers meant that he was hurting you or making you feel good. And the dilated look on your pupils, drunk on pleasure over your flushed cheeks, was enough to make a wildfire ignite in his chest, ready to fuel that movement he had been studying tirelessly but which motivation he had never comprehended before this very moment.

His hands and knees rested at both sides of your body on the examination table as he loomed over you, his spine curved to position his face oh so close to yours. Out of your daze, you opened your eyes only to find his, burning despite their icy color like never before. You felt a rush of emotion, a blush that crept from your stomach up to your cheeks. You wrapped your legs around his narrow hips and your arms around his neck, caressing the hair on the back of his head, pulling him closer, making him yelp. But he quickly adjusted, a sweet giggle erupting from his defined lips. You exchanged amused and complicit smiles at this newfound connection. Neither of you could believe this was finally happening. It was like an impossible dream. And as if afraid that it could end at any moment, you wasted no time.

One of his hands propped him up, the other one found its place on your temple to hold it firmly and rub circles on your skin with his thumb. You tilted your hips, pulling him close into you with both your limbs and your hungry insides. He moaned again, feeling you suck him deeper and deeper. Deep until he hit the very bottom. And just When he thought there wouldn’t be anything else capable of turning him into an animal, he hit your cervix with his tip. And that’s when he lost himself.

“Archons…” he trembled as he knew this was the first time he was letting loose for real and losing control. He pulled all the way out just to thrust back in in a sharp motion that made you moan, only fueling his lust further. And then the studied, previously foreign motion felt natural, like a need he didn’t know he had. Back and forth, in and out, until the edge of the examination table rattled against the wall relentlessly.

As his thumb rubbed shakily onto your cheek, you pulled him impossibly closer, your bare legs wrapping tighter around his slim waist. It felt so damn good. The gloves had been amazing, but Albedo didn’t fall behind. His cock was so goddamn thick it filled you up in a way that made you wetter and wetter, slick dripping down your entrance and making a mess each time he pushed in and out. It rubbed so well every crevice, scratching those spots that tingled so tasty…

It was perfect, amazing, wild. Forehead against forehead, your sweat tainting his cold skin, the lab was filled with sounds so lewd they took your lust up a notch. The creaking of the examination table, suffering under both your weights, its slamming against the wall until the paint was dented, and the squelch…the squelch your drenched pussy made each time his cock pushed back inside was maddening.

His cock was cold like the rest of his body, further stimulating you until you lost all shame and started moaning as you observed his handsome face. Your heat warmed his body, and your sweat made his soft skin shimmer. Crazed out of pleasure, you bit his star again, a strangled moan erupting from his throat as your hands got lost in his blond hair, messing up his usually neat braid.

“Bedo…” you moaned, and that was his sweet demise.

It was too much. This wild experience, this sweet pleasure, and the fulfilling intimacy of you calling him a nickname in that lust-filled voice.

“Haah…” he couldn’t keep it in. The control slipped out of his hands for real for the first time in his life and it felt amazing. The orgasm hit him like a fucking truck, making him see white and making his always crowded mind go completely blank.

“Y-Y/N…” he moaned desperately, his already deep voice sounding breathier and huskier than ever before. Realizing what was happening, you held him even tighter as he rode his high for as long as he could.

As thick ropes of not exactly cold but unnaturally lacking in warmth cum spurted deep into your body, Albedo felt his mind heavy and hazy. He let out a guttural groan that made you horny as fuck, and kept pumping his semen inside of you, yet another new side of himself awakening this fateful afternoon. He felt as if he was an animal too, as if he was possessed by some kind of organic need to reproduce.

If he could, he would be sweating more than you, his brow furrowed in effort, pumping in desperately until his cock wasn’t hard enough to do it anymore. With another groan, this time of frustration, he collapsed on top of you.

“Ngh…” he sighed, and the examination table creaked and hit the wall one last time as his movements finally died down, his whole weight rested on you.

“There, there…” you said softly, still blushing a bit, but recovering your thinking and speaking capabilities now that he wasn’t pleasing you. You rubbed his back gently with your hand, hugging him.

Albedo took some moments to savor this delightful moment: the triumph of finally achieving the physical and emotional intimacy he had wanted with you for so long, the success in transcending the theory of this ritual he had studied tirelessly to finally experiencing it for himself, the post-orgasmic bliss, the memories he would never forget…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered after a while, his voice still husky and sexy to your lustful ears.

“S-sorry?” you raised your brows in perplexity “Why are you sorry for? I already told you that I forgive you…” you mumbled.

“Not for that,” he chuckled, finally recovering to slowly lift himself back up onto his hands to straddle you again “For releasing before you…” he said with that irresistible breathy voice, finally managing to steady himself onto the table. You found his relaxed expression and disheveled appearance beyond hot.

“Ah, don’t worry, that happens,” you said, blushing, despite the fact that that very rarely happened to you with Venti.

You saw him pull out of you with a very careful motion, your still needy pussy throbbing in frustration. You wondered what the hell was going through his mind as he placed his hand on it and separated your labia a bit to observe his semen pour down onto the table. You had never seen that look in his eyes before. You had never seen him bite his lip either. That made you blush even more.

“No, Y/N, you don’t worry. I’m not letting you go unfulfilled,” he replied with an enigmatic tone, engrossed in observing the white substance gushing out of your body.

A million questions ran through his mind. Regarding the full extent of his nature and existence. Regarding the possibility of his seed yielding any kind of fertility. His ever-curious nature came back to him recharged, now fueled by this previously unknown desire to breed.

“Oh…really?” was all you managed to mumble, looking up at him with red cheeks and again wondering what the hell was going on in that freaky mind of his. Up to this very day, you had always thought of Mr. Albedo as a very proper man. But now you were starting to realize that he was a weirdo.

“Most certainly,” he smiled with satisfaction as he tightened both textured gloves and pushed two fingers back into your needy core.

“Hyah!” you moaned, gripping the sides of the examination table. It didn’t matter if he was a weirdo, he was a weirdo who made you feel good.

“Does my invention have your approval, Y/N?” he asked, looking down at you with icy blue eyes full of hopefulness.

As he explored all of the pleasure points he had carefully studied in the few books that he had managed to find, all you could do was nod in between moans and give him a weak thumbs up.

You inhaled to tell him something, but he interrupted you again:

“I’m so glad. I wanted to ensure maximum pleasure. Please let me show you the full extent of the potential of this device!” he smiled, clearly excited to show off his creation and gain your validation. And then came your sweet demise.

Because with the push of a button, the textured gloves started to vibrate. To fucking vibrate.

Ah, Archon-forsaken Albedo…he could be as much of a freak as he wanted! This was too much, too much…did this even exist in Teyvat? Had he just built a gadget that he could patent and get rich?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that now you were the one throwing your head back and moaning in pleasure, louder than ever before. So loud that you were lucky you were alone at the lab today.

“Is it good?” Albedo smiled down at you, his artificial heart beating excitedly in his chest.

Your moans were ragged, not pleasant or erotic to the ears at all. They sounded more like an agonizing animal. But they showed just how much of a good time you were having. And that made Albedo giggle in pure satisfaction.

He kept fingering you, and pressed the vibrating part against the head of your clit until your hips snapped and you let out a loud and labored moan. And then the disaster.

The vibrations that were applied to the head of your clit traveled through your nerves until they reached your brain, turning it into pudding. Your mind went blank, and your body reacted in a way previously unknown to you.

“Mesmerizing…” Albedo mumbled in utter fascination as you came undone, panting and moaning, and let out a generous squirt of warm whitish liquid that stained everything, tainting the air with yet another pungent aroma.

“Al…bedo…” you moaned weakly, trying to apologize as your brain was trying to recover its solid state.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfect,” He said softly, with a calm smile. With lidded eyes glinting with wishes untold, he observed the mess splattered all over his clothes and the examination table. His usual self wanted to collect all kinds of samples and his newfound animalistic side wanted to lick it clean.

“P-perfect?” You asked weakly, slowly closing your shaky legs to lay on your side and try to normalize your breath after that mind-blowing orgasm.

“Yes, Y/N, it was perfect. You are perfect.” He smiled, looking at you as if he was in a trance and scooting closer “You are so special. So very special…” he added with his silky voice, cupping your chin with a gentle hand to make you look at him.

You looked into his eyes. They were icy blue and pretty as ever. But there was something different in them you hadn’t seen before. At that moment, you had no idea what it was about.

Albedo was a very good host for the end of the evening. He helped you clean yourself and didn’t complain about the mess you had made in his lab. He cooked for you and you had a pleasant conversation over dinner, huddled up and protected from the cruel cold of the outside. You felt your friendship with him grow. When it was late and dark and obviously time to go, he told you to stay the night and to leave in the morning when it was less dangerous. “Crossing Dragonspine during the night is unwise and imprudent!” He had said.

And he was so hospitable so as to let you into his private room to sleep in his bed. So that was what you did. You slept by his side, snuggled into warm blankets that made the snowstorm outside seem like a distant dream.

Contrary to your expectations, there was no sex that night. You slept peacefully while Albedo was in the lab, and when he seemed to finish his experiments and came back to the room to sit on the bed, next to you, he continued to take notes on uncountable papers.

From time to time, he turned his head to see you and check if you were asleep and to squeeze your hand affectionately or pat your back in a soothing manner.

But you didn’t have any more sex. That night.

The next morning you left in peace, and you didn’t have sex with him again until months later, when you returned from Liyue.

In the letters you exchanged, the growing friendship and trust was clear and so were the intentions of repeating the experience. But both of you were ignorant of something very important about the other. Albedo was too subtle with his hints and you didn’t pick them up.

So the first time you returned to Mondstadt after your endeavors in Liyue, he took the chance and invited you for dinner.

That night, he told you about his desire to procreate with you, and you, flabbergasted, literally said ‘no, thank you’. He was surprised, and asked you why you had sex with him months ago if the idea of reproducing was so unpleasant to you. And you, shocked, had to admit that you just assumed he was sterile. Because he was...right?

Albedo had cleared his throat uncomfortably and had told you that he was not sure about this, that he desperately wanted to know if there was a possibility that he could have his own children. It was obvious to you that it was a sensitive topic for him. So it was hard to find the words and the tone to reject his proposal and keep your friendship intact.

How did you make it? How did you tell him that you had no intentions of having children, that your priority was to find your brother, that he shouldn’t feel down, that he would he a wonderful father even if he wasn’t a biological one, that now you were always taking a contraceptive herb given to you by some wise ladies in Liyue and that you two could have sex as long as you took that herb just in case he ended up being fertile?

Well, that’s a topic for another story.

This one ends here. But you never knew if Albedo was simply sterile or if that intense day at the lab you didn’t get pregnant because of pure luck.

Oof! I can't believe I finally posted this weird thing. I'm not sure I like how this one turned out, it has many incongruences because it was started in...2021!!! Can you believe that?? 💀💀 I'm literally not the same person I was when I fisrt started this drabble. I had to fix and rewrite the beginning because this was one of my first attempts at writing in english, I had no idea about english punctuation during dialogues and many other important things. I had to add quotation marks and commas to every single old dialogue 💀 Also upon re reading it I realized just how creepy the situation was originally so I rewrote it a bit to try and fix it? I dunno if I fixed it. Guess I witnessed things irl that made me open my eyes about certain things so I cut out parts that grossed me out and re wrote them. I know I wouldn't write something like that nowadays, it's impressive to see the changes on my writing and my thinking over time, specially over such a short period of time like 2021-2024, I usually focus on the changes from the things I used to write when I was in highschool. It would have been interesting if I had completed this fic back then and compare it to a new fic, but I didn't so I got this weird Frankenstein hybrid instead.

Not only you can see the messy seams in this piece because of the changes on my views but you can also notice the incongruence in Y/N's behavior 💀 This story happens before Y/N travels to Liyue from the first time, so she was still a shy and inexperienced woman, she just had her first love, first kiss, first everything with Venti and that is clear in the beginning, where I left the dialogues and inner thoughts I wrote back in 2021, while towards the middle and the sex scene she suddenly jumps to being the Y/N of the current version, who has seen lots of stuff in Teyvat and had tons of things to show to Albedo. Oops...💀 I tried to fix it so that she wouldn't be as forward as she would be now, but I really wanted to finish this fic and I found it really boring to write shy, inexperienced, insecure, passive Y/N, so in the name of having fun at writing I ended up with a thing in between. But honestly that part where she manipulates him and plays him like a fiddle is 100% post Fontaine Y/N and completely out of cronology. Tried to tone her down during sex to reflect her little experience, dunno if succeeded.

I don't entirely dislike this piece because I think it illustrates well the relationship I envisioned for Y/N and Albedo and I think their cringe and socially inept dialogues are on point to that. Albedo struggles with being overly formal without trying because that's just the way he talks, and shy, people pleasing Y/N used to mimic that, even if Albedo desperately wants her to drop the formalities with him and doesn't know how to ask for it properly. Yeah towards the sex scene that falters and current Y/N shows but oh well. Guess this is what happens when you leave a fic unfinished for 3 whole years. I wanted to take this off my drafts desperately. I want to finish those old projects I wanted out so I can make space for the new ideas I have! Lately I've been really in the mood for starting a new fic. And hopefully finish it within a year before I completely lose touch with the feelings and views that inspired it.

I started writing erotica ten years ago when I was 14 💀 And at first everything was so wholesome until I got unsupervised internet access and porn ruined my mind. I started this blog to slowly reconnect and reconcile with sex and sexuality and upon re reading the first fics I posted (*cough cough* the Scara ones specially*) I think that's working. And what happened over the years with this fic is a perfect example of that. Can't wait to see if I improved when I start a brand new one.

This fic was supposed to be finished and posted in March 💀 And we are ENDING JUNE 💀💀💀 My sincere apologies if anyone thought I was dead or dropped the fandom, the truth is that I still write a lot whenever I can, but because of university I have no time for organizing, editing and posting. At the beginning of the year, when I said I would post a fic per month, I was totally underestimating how hard sophomore year can be 💀 It was also super hard for me to finish fics about characters who are not Scara/Kuni/Wanderer 😳 I'll have some free time in a few weeks, so hopefully I'll gather the strength to polish and post all the raw content that's sitting dormant in my drafts.

I missed Tumblr and my blog so much 🥺 I wish I had more time for this. I have tons 9f unread notifications and no time to read them all. I don't even have time to read fanfics nor the books I bought for pleasure, because I need to finish reading for university 🥺

I dunno what or when (hopefully as soon as possible) next post or posts will be, so expect the unexpected 😅 Or make your requests, I'm working on two at the moment (that person who asked for Ei catching step-siblings Kuni and Y/N, if you happen to be reading this, I'm halfway through it, I swear!)

Anyway, I just hope all the people who voted for this fanfic like it if even a bit, despite it being a bit of a Frankenstein. It has some parts that I like a lot. See you next time!

[glimmeringtwilight]

Gilded Cage (Part Three)

ok. i'm not going to try to come up with a clever name for this one, this is just. part three. please send an ask or a DM if I missed any CW's! been a while.

Pairing(s): Dottore/Reader, Pantalone/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

CW: NSFW, drugging (painkillers and other ment), rough sex, biting, threats of mutilation (mild. but it's Dottore), yandere themes, noncon/dubcon, AFAB reader, overstimulation, humiliation

Dottore has been on edge lately. 

You can tell. You can see it in his jaw when he’s sedating you as you lie on the operating table, eyes burning and dark as he stares through you at something presumably only he can see. You can see it in the way his hand sometimes twitches slightly– which bodes terribly for you– as he makes a small incision into your thigh, or your stomach, or your arm.

Most of the time, you think he just cuts into you simply because he can. Because he likes to watch the blood welling from the wound, dripping down your skin. He’s been doing it a lot more lately, sometimes forgetting to sedate you, sometimes forgetting to give you something for the pain, sometimes cutting too deep.

It feels like there’s a storm brewing that you can’t see; curtains drawn so you can’t look out the window and see the magnitude, brace yourself for wind or rain.  

His clones seem to be affected by it, too; usually it’s only ever the younger clones of his that lash out, but even the supposedly older ones are starting to show signs of agitation. You haven’t seen the same test subject twice in what feels like weeks. All of them seem to enter and leave the lab only once– something that should horrify you more than it does, whenever you watch them wheeling the covered bodies past. 

It’s this way for weeks. Dottore stalks around his lab like a harbinger of death, practically oozing poison and malice despite the deceptively calm mask he dons. 

You find out what it is that’s been agitating him when he opens the door to your cell one morning. Not a clone. Not the occasional trembling Fatuus. Him. His eyes burn into you. You can’t make out the emotion in them, but the complete coolness in his expression makes your stomach sink. You wonder, briefly, if he’s going to finally kill you– would that be a mercy, at this point? Killing you? Perhaps not. Knowing him, he’d draw it out. Make it hurt. 

Still, despite the terror that curls its fingers around your throat, you follow him quietly out of the cell and into the lab, staring at the back of his head as you walk and wishing you could read minds so you could at least brace yourself for whatever this is.

The two of you enter the lab and you finally realize what it is that’s crawled under Dottore’s skin, sat at the desk in the corner as though he’s not terribly out of place in the sterile environment. 

Pantalone sits comfortably in one of the chairs near the desk Dottore rarely seems to use, smiling as though he’s received a warm welcome and a parade. Dottore, meanwhile, looks palpably annoyed as he strides past the banker and takes a seat behind the desk, motioning for you to follow. 

It’s… Intensely uncomfortable, to say the least. You rarely find yourself sitting at Dottore’s desk, considering the doctor usually prefers to be conducting experiments rather than sitting and compiling data; he usually delegates that to his clones, who bitch and moan about the boring task. 

So sitting in a chair, next to the two men who’ve each held you captive at different points, as Dottore practically radiates anger… You don’t know what to do. You fold your hands in your lap, avoiding looking at either one, even as you can feel the two of them just… staring. 

You feel like you’re under a microscope, worse than any other time before when you’d been laid out on the operating table under Dottore’s invasive prodding.

Pantalone speaks first, breaking the charged silence. 

“I take it you don’t mind if I verify that this one’s real,” He says, rising from his chair and smiling at the way Dottore visibly bristles. “After all, I’m paying for this, aren’t I? I deserve that much.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about you, and the demeaning way in which he’s referring to you as though you’re some object that might be counterfeit is both unnerving and irritating. You’re careful not to let it show on your face as Pantalone approaches you. 

“What-” You start to ask, but you’re swiftly interrupted by gloved fingers prying open your mouth, prodding around in search of something that isn’t there. You feel them press down on your tongue, ghost over molars, then press against the back of your throat until you gag. 

Somewhat satisfied, the banker pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your chin firmly with a now-damp glove, turning your head this way and that and ignoring the obvious discomfort painted on your features as the action smears drool on your skin. What is he doing?

You shoot a glance towards Dottore, who is still just watching. He’s obviously pissed– you can see a vein popping in his forehead, belaying his anger on his otherwise blank face. 

Pantalone lets go of your chin in favor of grabbing you by the arms, pulling you up from your chair and motioning for you to spin around in a circle. You do, though you’re still confused, unsure of what’s happening as the banker seems to be appraising you like a precious gem. It’s a different type of poking and prodding than Dottore’s usual tests and checkups, but it’s invasive nonetheless. It’s doubly unsettling that this is the first time you’ve seen the banker without his usual smarmy smile. 

Hands find your shoulders and stop you again, and you bristle when they trace the curve of your spine, exposed thanks to the open back of the hospital gown. You feel them stop, tap something just to the left of one of your vertebrae, and Pantalone spins you back around to face him, clearly pleased. 

You try not to flinch when he takes a lock of your hair in his hands– it’s gotten so long since you’d been brought back to the lab– and brings it closer to his face. His nose crinkles, palpable disgust on his features, and he mutters something about “that vile soap he makes you use”– likely referring to Dottore– before turning around to face the man in question. 

“Are you done ogling?” Dottore asks, his tone clipped. You can’t see him around the banker, but you’re sure he still looks as pissed as before. 

Pantalone tilts his head slightly, smiling, then glances over his shoulder at you. “Perhaps not yet, but I’m satisfied enough for now. You’ll get the funding for your little… project, and I expect to see this one at my doorstep every other month from now on.”

Every other month? You frown. Is this some sort of… custody arrangement that the two men worked out? You don’t know if you want to laugh or not at the absurdity of it all; like you’re the unfortunate child of two divorced bastards, except this is much, much worse.

“Fine,” Dottore grits out, in a tone that suggests it’s anything but. He gets up to shoo the banker out of his lab, but Pantalone merely tuts and makes his way back over to where you’re standing, confused, and rests one hand heavily on your shoulder.

“One month starting today, of course,” Pantalone continues, “It’s only fair, after all, when you’ve been hoarding my poor pet this whole time. I have to make up for lost time, after all.”

He delivers those words with a smile that only seems to irritate Dottore further, red eyes boring holes into him as Dottore visibly seems to be contemplating murder. Pantalone speaks up again before he does anything, however, offering a hollow consolation: “Of course, I’m not cruel. How about a farewell? A parting gift, to… tide you over while they’re gone?”

You don’t like the sound of that, and Dottore seems to pick up on the banker’s suggestion as you’re spun around once more and ushered towards the exam table you’ve become intimately familiar with for the last several months. 

For this supposedly being Dottore’s “parting gift,” Pantalone is awfully remiss to keep his hands– and commentary– to himself. 

“Ah, what a cute noise that was,” You hear him coo, a finger tapping your nose with just enough force to startle you so you flinch, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit rough though, Doctor?”

“Quiet.”

You jostle against the table, gripping the edge of it for support as hips snap into yours with bruising force. Dottore’s fingers are gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave bruises– that’s probably the point, honestly; he’s fucking you like he intends for you to feel it for the entire month you’ll be absent. 

Pantalone’s comments aren’t helping things either; despite the banker’s comment about roughness, it only seems to have encouraged the doctor to go even harder. 

Thankfully, you were given something for the pain, but not from Dottore. Pantalone had pressed a pill into your gasping mouth when Dottore had started, telling you that you were going to need it, and though swallowing was a struggle, you’re glad he did. 

Dull pain and sharp pleasure mingle together, and you’ve long since lost track of the orgasms that have been dragged out of you. You’re starting to numb, honestly, overstimulation bleeding into pain, and you gasp into the table with every sharp thrust into you. 

“Tsk– don’t pass out now,” Pantalone chides, fingers curling around your jaw and biting into your cheeks when your eyes threaten to flutter shut, and Dottore snarls something about cutting your spinal cord if you do; something you sincerely hope is an empty threat, given the black spots dancing in your vision. “You still have another thirty minutes to go.”

You don’t remember there being a timer set, much less a time limit, but you certainly know you can’t last that much longer. Your knees have already long since given out, and Dottore had to hoist you up further onto the table so he could continue, leaving your feet dangling a few inches above the ground. 

You feel weight against your back, heat, smothering you as Dottore leans down to sink his teeth into your shoulder as he spills inside you once more, and you shudder through another weak orgasm in response, your eyes rolling back and your vision blacking out for several long moments. 

Pantalone shakes you back awake before you can slip too far, and you sob as Dottore starts to move again. You already know that you won’t be able to walk for the next few days, if not for the next week. 

Tears blur your vision, the world spinning around you as a gloved hand comes to rest against your head, petting you in what’s likely intended as a comforting gesture but only seems to frazzle you further, overwhelmed and overstimulated as you are. 

It must be Pantalone, because Dottore lets out an irritated noise, sinking his teeth into your skin to leave a new mark as he resumes the harsh pace he’d set earlier. Another hand, this one not gloved, curls around your throat to dig two fingers into your racing pulse as he tries to engrave himself into your flesh through means slightly less violent than cutting you open. 

You can barely keep track of who’s doing what– your vision is too blurred and you’re too far gone to fully piece together a coherent thought before it and the breath are knocked out of you by another snap of Dottore’s hips. One of them reaches down to rub circles into sensitive nerves, and you sob as another climax is ripped unwillingly out of you. 

You black out for longer this time, shaken awake once more by Pantalone. He’s cooing something at you that you can’t make out, drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears and the sound of Dottore’s ragged breaths mixing in with your own. 

It feels like you’re burning up, shivering weakly under Dottore’s crushing weight as the man seems to be pouring every ounce of frustration into his thrusts, and darkness encroaches on the corners of your vision with every movement. 

Another shuddering orgasm. You twitch weakly through it, your body registering the sensation more than your mind does. 

The world seems to tip, swaying like a vessel rocked by choppy waves before finally capsizing. Your vision goes, and you’re pulled into a sea of static. 

It smells like lilacs. 

It’s the first thing you notice when you slowly come to, a stark contrast to the smell of bleach and copper that you’ve become accustomed to. You’re also dressed in some proper clothes– or rather, ”proper,” compared to the usual paper-thin hospital gowns you’ve worn since being brought back to the lab. 

Opening your eyes, you’re greeted with the familiar luxuries you remember seeing when you were last in Pantalone’s care, and the sight would nearly be a relief if consciousness didn’t bring with it the unbearable ache in every inch of your body. There’s a budding headache building behind your temples, stinging pains from various bites and bruises littering your skin like brands.

It aches most between your legs, but there’s an ache in your thighs and your stomach like you’d pulled every muscle within; you probably did, honestly, but you try to push back the memory invading your thoughts and you sit up in bed. 

“You’re awake,” A silky voice drawls from behind you just as you sit up, and you turn around to see Pantalone sitting in an armchair in the corner, one leg folded over the other as he reads a book. He doesn’t look up as he addresses you; he just pats his knee, indicating he expects you to come to him. You’re not sure you can walk…

Climbing out of the soft bed hurts, various muscles protesting the movement, and you’re not surprised when your knees give out on you the second you rest your weight on your feet. Pantalone simpers at you from where he sits, amused, but he makes no move to help you stand up or walk. He just pats his thigh again, smiling at you. 

“I can’t walk,” Even talking hurts, evidenced by the crackling of your voice when you speak. 

“Then crawl.”

He says it so simply, as though you should have already known the answer. Your ears burn with humiliation. You don’t move.

“Don’t make me punish you on your first day back,” He says, setting his book down so he can properly address you. His tone is disappointed, but you don’t miss the way the bastard’s smile widens at the idea. 

Pantalone’s punishments aren’t nearly as severe as Dottore’s are, at least in terms of pain. Rather than physical punishments, he seems to prefer humiliation. You’re tempted to try your luck, but… everything hurts. You don’t want him to decide you haven’t earned the privilege of clothes– or find something equally humiliating and degrading– on top of the pain you’re already in.

Crawling hurts. Every muscle protests the movement, yet again, but you force yourself to ignore the aches, to ignore the humiliation burning beneath your skin at being made to crawl over to him. 

When you finally reach him you sit up unsteadily so you can climb into his lap, but you’re surprised when he stops you by pressing a gloved hand firmly against your head to keep you planted on your knees in front of him. 

Instead of addressing your confusion, Pantalone merely smiles and takes hold of your wrist, raising your arm to inspect the scars and bruises littering your skin from the months spent under Dottore’s care. His face twists with disgust, shifting into faux sympathy when he addresses you again, “Poor thing. Look what he’s done to you…”

His free hand comes to rest on his knee as he straightens up, uncrossing his legs, and you hear a steady tap tap tap as he drums his index finger against his knee thoughtfully. “Aren’t you glad I’ve brought you back from that wretched place?”

It’s a leading question. You know he expects you to answer correctly, and you get the sense he’s leading into something; a demand. “...Yes.”

“I knew you would be.” He says, dropping your wrist and leaning back comfortably in the armchair. He looks down at you, clearly pleased with the position you’re in. He props one elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head in his hand as he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you be a good pet and show me just how appreciative you are?”

The implication isn’t lost on you, but whatever hope you’d had that he might mean something else is dashed as he spreads his legs slightly further apart to make room for you between them, and you don’t miss the growing bulge in his dress pants. 

Your hands are numb as you reach for his belt, and you barely flinch when his hand rests heavily against the back of your hand as you take him into your mouth. 

One cage for another. You’re not even sure you’re relieved, because every part of you still aches from the reminders Dottore had left you with. 

His hand presses against the back of your head, guiding you to take him further into your mouth, and you struggle to breathe around his length. You nearly gag as he pushes you down further, pushing back in resistance, and Pantalone clicks his tongue in disappointment but thankfully, lets up. Maybe he doesn’t want to ruin his pants. 

“I’ll get you something for the scarring,” He murmurs, fingers curling in your hair as you bob your head up and down his length. “And those garish bruises.”

Whether it’s an insult towards you or Dottore, you’re not sure. You try not to focus on it, instead focusing on the task at hand. You lave your tongue along the base of his shaft, earning a small shiver and a heady sigh from him. 

He’s silent for a few minutes as you continue to pleasure him, but you feel him boring holes into the top of your head. You don’t look up at him; you don’t want to. You’re trying to get this over with, and hoping that his silence means you’re doing well. 

The hand on the top of your head leaves, and you flinch when you feel him trace his fingers over one of the scabbed over bites left by Dottore, nearly biting down in surprise. You swallow, suppress the urge, resuming your pace even as he traces the outline of every bite left littered along your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders.

Pantalone straightens up a little, pressing his hand against the back of your head again to force you to take more than you already can. This time, he doesn’t relent when you push back, just holding his hand still until you stop whimpering and you manage to swallow back the urge to gag. 

“Hush.” He tells you in response to your muffled noises, groaning quietly at the way your throat vibrates around his cock.

You eventually relax, eventually get used to the feeling, and he lets you pull back slightly before he’s pressing down again, repeating until tears are spilling down your cheeks as you struggle not to reflexively bite down each time you gag slightly around his length. 

“How would you feel about something… permanent?” He asks, and his fingers are tracing the bites again. You try to pull back to answer, but his other hand stops you and he rocks his hips lazily into your mouth. A rhetorical, then; he doesn’t care for your answer.

You try to blink back your tears as you resume the pace you’d set, sucking lightly on his cock as his hand curls into your hair. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying as his hand keeps threatening to force you down farther than you can take, and you’re focusing on stamping down the swelling nausea. 

“Something- hm-” He hums, and you can tell he’s getting close now, with the way his breathing is starting to deepen, his hand tightening its hold on your hair- “something tasteful. Not like those eyesores he leaves you. A collar is- fuck- too… too easy to remove.”

You don’t like where this is going, but humming your dissent only earns you a pleasured hiss and a rumble of praise spilling from his lips before he’s curling his fingers around the back of your neck. 

It’s the only warning you get before he shoves your head down, holding you there as cum spills into your mouth and down your throat. It takes everything in you to relax your jaw, and you pull back gasping and sputtering the second he relents.

By the time your vision clears and you blink back the tears spilling from your eyes, he’s already tucked himself back into his pants and is just watching you struggle to catch your breath. He doesn’t even comment on the mess of cum and drool that spilled from your lips onto the floor. 

It takes you a second to realize he’s not staring at you, but rather at the marks left on your skin. 

After a minute of tense silence, he smiles again, patting his lap this time in invitation for you to sit, and you ignore the familiar sting of humiliation as you obey. Again, one of his hands curls around the nape of your neck, tracing some pattern into your skin. 

“Right here,” He murmurs, though he doesn’t elaborate when your brows pinch together in confusion.

It takes you a second to realize he’s tracing invisible letters across your nape, then another few to realize it’s his name that he’s tracing into your skin. 

Something tells you that Dottore isn't going to be pleased to see you again at the end of the month.