wiki says biograft uses any pronouns but i will use they them

PFP CR: zika_zoid on X

Blackrock wasnt the best faction choice you could have. But since you were born there, you had to obey to survive. Being thrown into the snow alone and barely covered with anything wasnt in your plans - especially including those stories of so-called 'traitors' who tried to leave the faction behind.

So, here you are, bending over a stack of paperwork with an aching back. This is better than death, you convinced yourself. You could just enjoy your life here, right? You had nice friends and you were experienced enough to not die on your missions. If you dont count how much this tired you - you were fine.

Your eyes finally drooped, a yawn escaped your throat. The pen in your hand slipped, leaving a straight blue line on the paperwork, but you didnt really care. Today was a rough day, and you definitely deserve a proper rest.

You pressed your forehead to the papers, finally closing your eyes. Sleep sounded so goddamn good right now. You just need to hope no one will come in and interrupt your peaceful moment.

You almost dozed off, but then, suddenly, there is a knock on the door. You groaned, lifting your head up. The door opens before you can say anything - and then you see a Biograft standing in the doorway, holding more paperwork. You never paid much attention to Biografts - for you, they were just some machines made by Subspace that wandered around the building.

" CREATOR SAID THIS BELONGS TO YOU. "

You hum in response, taking another stack of paper and placing it on your desk. Then, you look back at the Biograft, staring at the orange parts of their 'face' that resembled eyes. They stood in front of you in an awkward silence before finally turning away.

You didnt care much about it - your head flopped back onto the desk as they left. This is a living hell..

You thought you could finally, finally have some rest, but then the door creaks again. Opening one eye, you see Biograft again, but now they are holding a mug of fresh coffee. That sight makes you fully look at Biograft as they set the coffee on the table, staring at you again.

You smile, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes nice - that is probably the first nice thing of your day. You are sure the Biograft learned that from their creator, including how much Subspace overworks himself.

You mumble a small 'thank you', your hand reaching to pat the Biografts head. And that seemed to do something to them - their head lifts up to look at your hand like its something foreign. Being created in a place like this, Biografts dont know any kind of attention of closeness.

" WHAT IS THAT? "

Even their voice seemed confused. This was too new for the poor Biograft.