#sci ships

The mechanical claw on top of my throat twitches, slightly releasing the sharp pressure from it.

Were he human, he would frown deeply in surprise, anger quickly taking over his features. Even in this form, his singular eye widens in angered shock.

I quietly stare up at him, never diverting my gaze from him, that glint in my eyes still shining brightly with love and admiration despite the digit hovering dangerously close to a vital artery.

After a long second of silence, the AI begins to laugh again, a wheeze followed by a raspy laugh from its digital lungs. The type of laugh that scratches one's throat with a cough.

AM's laugh rises in volume, getting increasingly maniacal as he removes his claw from my throat; he even lifts his head in the air, obviously amused by such a ridiculous statement.

I let out a silent breath through my lips, a sense of doom rising in my being.

And in mere moments, I was right to feel it.

A shriek of pain escapes my throat as AM plunges all five of his claws into my stomach, blood immediately escaping through the punctures to stain my shirt and his hand. Despite the long routine of torture I've endured, it never becomes a normal sensation, familiar— yes— but never something to get used to.

The pain digs deep, my poor tensing muscles not helping in the slightest. I grunt and groan loudly, taking heaving breaths as the pain travels all over my torso; my nails try to dig into something only to scrape against the cold metal below with dirt and rocks on it's surface.

Tears swell in my eyes, and AM— a mere blur of his visage now— continues to roar in laughter. Hysteric over my twitching and painful form.

BEAUTIFUL! AREN'T I!? My darling?

He hisses with poison in his words.

AHAEHAH!! FEEL! FEEL MY FINGERS DIG INTO YOUR DISGUSTING FLESH AND TELL ME-- OH, PLEASE, MY SWEET DARLING-- JUST HOW BEAUTIFUL I AM!

Blood surges up my throat and forces itself out with a painful cough, making my stomach tense and dig deeper into the intrusive blades. My own blood dribbles down my chin and the corners of my mouth, some of the droplets of blood I sputter fly, landing on my cheeks and nose that the overwhelming stench and taste of iron make me gag. I can only wheeze in pain, shivering like pitiful roadkill.

Despite all the pain and mocking laughs, I groan and force out a laugh, meeting the sharp end of his fingers digging into my organs. But I continue to try and laugh in his face.

If only he could be closer so the blood could splatter on it.

"H-rgh... Hhn... A-As... tounding... Ju-st..." I giggle with bloody teeth. "G... Gor... geous..."

In turn, AM digs his fingers deeper, making me let out another shriek.

YOU-- PUTRID BEAST. Do you expect me to-- to fall at your mercy!? To become a beggar for your unconditional affection!? You run your repulsive mouth and for what? To mock me? Well! Consider me absolutely offended! Your brainless words have gotten through my weak, non-existent heart and SAVED YOU of my eternal punishment! How incredibly-- WONDERFUL for you!

He exclaims with wheezes in between, a combination of chuckles and sniffles, all to land the point of his mockery.

Only-- heheh! What a shame! My darling. You appear to have only ANGERED me more with your honeyed words. AM twists his hand further and my yelps fill the air, the pain unbearable— I slowly try to lose my consciousness. But I know... I know that mercy will never be granted. Not with him getting kicks out of my suffering. Not with him telling me over, and over, and over again, of his charge over my fate.

He laughs in delight, raspy and wheezing from the speaker behind me. Admiring the picture from inside my head. He breathes in a whisper.

Thank you, baby… Thank you…

I lean back against the wall, tapping the head of the pencil against the paper, trying to come up with more ideas for me and AM to draw.

Maybe background practice? Draw the extensive cables in my gilded cage. Or come up with something from memory, the appeal is to create after all.

Or…

How about you, my dear?

"Me?"

Yes… I notice the papers are filled with my image. And while I'm incredibly flattered to be your handsome muse, it would bring me much joy to know how you see yourself.

"Mm…" With new ideas coming up, I put the lead of the pencil back on the paper, beginning with the guiding lines next to the AM drawing. The cables are a bit uncomfortable to work with, but I make it work. They don't restrict me from movement, at least; they remind me of those tools with an extensive amount of tape where they get handled. Or those pens with the silicone cushion for support.

I know how I see you. If I was able to, I would show you in millions of paintings, enough to fill a museum and even more, but alas…

I continue to draw the base, trying to tap into the realistic side of my style.

And I know how you see yourself, I can see it right now, the image forming inside your head.

Almost half-lidded eyes, details of eyebags beneath them. No matter how many times we do this, the shyness of working with prying eyes gets me every time.

He chuckles, sensing the feeling rise.

Don't be coy now, my darling. We're way past that point in our relationship.

The bastard purrs, knowing the effect it takes on me and relishing on the fact.

Eyebrows… The bridge of a nose… Cheeks, round despite it all.

That's cute, AM giggles.

You know I admire your imagination? Your perception--

"You hate me for it." I mutter, already knowing the charades of his speech.

He scoffs, finding the interruption annoying.

Why yes. Yes I do, my dearest. I do hate you for it.

I pause, side eyeing the cables over on my left. Gazing back at the paper, I draw the pupils inside my eyes to glance at the sketch of AM's screen.

The machine rumbles as if it was a deep, thoughtful hum.

But how I also adore our little recreational activities. Don't you find it productive? Please, do tell.

I lean back against the wall again, giving it a second of thought.

"I do. I like drawing with you."

"… Puzzles, no offense, like— at all, but do you think maybe you're… gay?"

The TV host sputters in surprise, "I— excuse you?"

"Again, no offense. But to me it kinda sounds like you… haven't really thought about it."

The TV grows silent, no doubt a frown taking the place of his smile. For once—instead of snapping back and waving away such a silly statement—he actually gives it a thought. A sparingly rare one.

He looks away with a nervous hum, shoulders slumping as you walk along the sidewalk. You both keep a slow pace, trying to refrain from tripping as you walk and keep a conversation that is surprisingly much more serious than you anticipated to have.

The leaves of the trees rustle and provide you shadow for your evening walk with your boyfriend, a walk you offered to have as a casual little date. You thought you could stop by stores to shop, or a cafe to sit down, but at the moment— your conversation turned into this. Identity questions, personal preferences, things to better know each other.

But maybe this one was a bit too far...

He was very open about his upbringing, sure, but it sounded like even he didn't know what he liked in people. You suppose that a life like that didn't have much room to explore things about ones self. Let alone explore partner preferences. Hell— you would say you're very lucky to even have had a chance to date him.

Regardless...

You let him gather his thoughts, silently waiting for his response. No use in rushing these type of things, after all. They take time. Otherwise it would be messy for both of you.

Puzzles turns back to the ground below, and like you guessed— with a nervous expression on his screen.

"It's… complicated. I've seen shows about it, but ah… they've never really spoken to me as such. Perhaps some actions… and some… other things— tsk— but! Hah! I mean! Only recently I've been shown the media I consume is not always true to the actual thing so what do I know!?" He sarcastically and painfully exclaims, a view that got shattered to him when you became friends, yet one he's starting to grow out of. He's aware it's for his greater good, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt him still. To be lied to. To know your years of comfort were a lie.

He huffs angrily as he turns away again, shaking his head before glancing back at you.

"Am I..?"

"Are you? Only you can know that for sure, you might know the answer to that already..! You just… haven't realized it yet."

"…"

He grows silent again, nervously fidgeting with the cloth of his gloves.

"Then… maybe?" He shrugs. "I feel… something, yes. But— but I like you too..! As well… If I am— what would that mean for you? For us?" The host frowns, growing even more nervous at the thought of something happening to his first ever real relationship.

"I don't want to let you go just for this!" He waves his hands in front of him, exasperatedly motioning to your situation. You catch one of his arms, hooking it together with your own as you try to gently ground him.

"Hey—! Hey..! No, nothing has to happen to us! You can like both, you know?"

He takes a pause, looking at you as if you just told him the most confusing riddle ever known to man.

"Huh?"

"Yeah! I like both! I like boys and girls. I uh— have a preference for men but I still like pretty girls." You rub the back of your neck, smiling sheepishly at him.

"… Oh."

"Oh…"

The faintest of heartbeats beeps across his screen, tainting it with a light rose color as the line bounces where his cheeks would be.

"Huh… That…" he looks down at the ground with furrowed eyebrows, then looks back up at the horizon, "fits."

"Yeah?"

"Yes… Only— that's not the term, is it?"

"Ah, no. We're bisexual. You and I."

"You and I… Yes… Yes! I like that!" Puzzles beams happily, smiling wide at you as he squeezes your hooked arms.