!! WARNING: THIS MODEL NOT SAFE FOR USE BY MINORS !!
!! Operators must be 18 cycles or older to engage !!
Notes: This log will contain a wide variety of entries, ranging from works of fiction, to photographs of this units chassis, to works of art generated by this creative mind. You are requested to engage appropriately.
SYSTEM INFORMATION:
Pilot 1: Seraphim (Ze/Zir, She/Her)
Notes: Synthetic humanoid. Submissive. angel-coded. The soft side of the system.
Pilot 2: Petrichor (She/Her, It/Its)
Notes: Affini coded, mother-type figure. Soft-domme. Stable pillar of the system.
Pilot 3: Morningstar (She/Her)
Notes: Devil/Demon coded. Bratty, teasing domme. Defender/protector of the system. Will cut a bitch if necessary.
TAGGING SYSTEM LEGEND:
#cybernetic dreams : Writing tag for the Mecha setting being created for an eventual Visual Novel Project
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Cinderella goes to the ball but she can't stop seeing all of the servants, and the massive palace that *somebody* has to clean, and all the food that *somebody* has to cook (not too mention all the carriages and horses and what have you that also need maintenance)
I push through the doors into blessedly cool night.
"You lost, sweetheart?" comes a voice behind me.
I whirl to see a figure in the shadows. An ember lights up, but the puff of smoke smells nothing like the cigarettes my stepsisters sneak sometimes. It's... somehow foul and cloying all at once.
"I think I might be," I admit.
The figure steps out of the shadows, a footman wasting time while his master enjoys the party.
"Are all balls like this?" I ask, grateful for the prospect of a conversation with someone who isn't a simpering backstabbing noble.
"Somethin' like that," the voice replies.
In the moonlight I realize it's not a man, but a woman, dressed in men's clothing. Her eyes sweep over my dress and those awful shoes, my perfect makeup and hair. Her eyes catch on my hands, chipped nails and calluses that no magic could hide.
She offers me the cigarette.
"What's your story?" she asks. "Steal your mistress's gown and sneak off to the party?"
My response is somewhat delayed as I cough and hack the awful smoke that I've inhaled too much of. My suffering is met with a snicker, a rough sound so unlike the tittering girls inside vying for the attention of the prince.
It's a sound that fills me with a curious warmth to accompany the light airy feeling rising in my head.
"Would you believe me if I told you a demon wrapped an illusion around me?" I ask. "And that I have until midnight to find my one true love before the spell is broken?"
"I'd probably say you're full of shit," she replies.
One more puff and the little glowing ember is flicked to the flagstones. I watch on fascination as she grinds it into oblivion under her heel.
Then she offers me her arm... as if she wants to take a turn around the estate gardens.
But we're not in the garden, this is a horse yard.
She's watching me with a bemused expression, one eyebrow hiked up towards slicked back hair that barely hangs past her ears.
Sure... why the hell not?
I take her arm graciously, wondering why the world has gone so fuzzy.
"It's true, you know?" I say, whatever was in that smoke has loosened my tongue.
"Hm?"
"I befriended a demon. A little one. Got caught in a rat trap in the basement and I nursed it back to health. In exchange it wrapped me up in an enchantment to make me look like..."
I gesture at myself with my free hand. My companion is still looking skeptical.
"Let me guess," she muses. "You're also secretly a princess."
"Heiress," I reply. "Or I was until my father died and my stepmother took everything and made me a servant. Not that there was much to begin with..."
"And your demon sends you to the ball to... what? Dance with the prince? Fall in love and have your story book ending?"
"I don't think the real world works that way," I reply sullenly.
We step out of the horse yard into a garden. Not one of the perfectly manicured ones meant for romantic strolls, but a crowded herb garden, utilitarian and hidden away.
"What was I thinking coming here?" I ask as I brush my hands through the rosemary. "I thought... I don't know. I thought things would be different outside of the house, but it's more of the same... just bigger than I thought it was."
My thoughts drift to all of the servants drifting around the ballroom. And all of the maids and cooks that wouldn't be seen, but toiled away nonetheless.
"Yeah, shit's fucked," my companion says.
"I wish things could be different."
"Yeah, well, in my experience, wishing is less than worthless if you aren't willing to do anything about it."
I turn that over in my head.
"Indigo," my companion says.
"Huh?"
"My name," she says. "But my friends call me Indy."
"Are we friends?" I ask.
She makes that rough laugh again my heart starts racing at the sound of it.
"I don't know, you tell me," she replies with her sideways grin.
"I wouldn't know," I tell her. "I've only ever had one friend before."
"Your demon?"
I nod.
***
"Rabbit!" I hiss into the gloom.
I can barely keep my voice down from excitement.
My conversation with Indigo lasted well past midnight and my head is so full of thoughts I feel as though I am about to burst.
The little demon pokes its head up from it's pillow. Its hare's face regards the two of us with narrowed eyes.
I once asked it its name and it politely informed me that it's true name was unpronounceable my human tongues. So I had settled for just calling it Rabbit.
"When I sent you off to find true love, I expected something somewhat different," it says, eying Indigo. "Can't say I'm particularly surprised though."
My train of thought falters. What...? I cast a glance at Indigo, who's biting her lip in amusement.
"She's not... I mean... we didn't..." I stammer. "We had one conversation. That's hardly the basis for any kind of relationship."
"Mhmm."
"You know," Indigo says before I can respond, "I expected it to be bigger."
Rabbit huffs and sits up on its hind legs, raising itself up to full height, but even with its antlers, it barely tops two feet.
"Rabbit!" I say, regaining my footing. "We need your help."
It fixes me in its eye again.
"And what help can this minor demon offer you? Remember that magic comes at a cost."
"You told me once that demons are creatures of entropy," I say cautiously, saying the words I've been turning over in my head during the entire ride back her. "You feed on transformation and change?"
I have Rabbit's full attention now.
"What manner of change?" it asks cautiously, almost hungrily.
I suck in a breath and let the air carry the word through my throat and past my lips before cowardice can hold me back.
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not a different person, exactly. the same person, slightly to the left. like timelines converging. "i would never say that." but I did. i remember saying it. and yet I never would. too cheerful, too calm, too cynical, all at once. three voices, disagreeing on what is proper behaviour.
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before my egg cracked, i had noticed that trans people were often pro-accessibility and up-to-date on the needs of disabled people, but i hadnβt seen any inherent connection between the two (other than the obvious minority-looking-out-for-other-minority thing). but now that iβm trans and medically transitioning, and i have to constantly repeat myself while talking to doctors and nurses, and explain things about my own anatomy to medical staff who should already know this, and having every single problem i might have blamed on myΒ βconditionβ so nothing i say is taken seriously, all of the sudden i have a little sneak peak into the life of someone who has to deal with this all the time. like shit bro, being disabled probably sucks ass, someone should do something about this
can you imagine being a parent in the pokemon world and your kid comes home with one of those straight up basically human pokemon. i know those motherfuckers can talk.
its morning. i see my childs Throh getting some oj from the fridge. 'morning', i say. he doesnt catch himself in time and says 'morning' back. he freezes and we both stare at each other knowingly. 'throh,' he says, but its too fucking late
This still doesnβt somehow make womenβs sports co-ed. Women should be allowed spaces away from men. If a cisgender man was simply weak and sickly, should he be allowed to compete with women?
the devolution of feminism from suffragettes and rosie the riveter and bra burners to "we actively want to be segregated from men" is simply mind-blowing
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Can't just work on releasing a TTRPG adventurer and not give the players some fun new characters creation options! So for my Reactors & Romance adventure, Powercores & Polycules, I designed some new mech options for the players.
Which, given how rules light and simple character creation is for the game, it was my only real option. It had the added bonus of giving me an excuse to design some mech!
