Jumped up punk generator

It’s been a hot minute but I’m back, baby! Just not here: I finally made good on my years of “threats” and rebooted Clarissa as a fandomless sci-fi/space opera/cyberpunk OC.

She's over at @dynamoprotocol (without full info because I never change my new blog Strats, do I). Username is subject to change because it’s clumsy and I hate it, I’ll fix this post if I pull the trigger on a fresh URL.

Just a note that I’m NOT maintaining her old Pokemon verse. I might reinstate it eventually, but I want to find my feet writing her from her fresh POV first*. Totally understand that’s not gonna be everyone’s bag, but for anyone who is down to vibe with intergalactic ‘Rissa I’d be happy to retool old relationships to fit her new setting.

mirrors

rotom

Sits there. Cutely.

  "..."

  Clarissa freezes, her fingers stuck hovering in place over the light switch as she stares into Footlettuce's glassy, dead gaze...like a startled street Meowth seizing up wide-eyed when a passerby intrudes upon them deep down an alley with a battered Pidgey wing in their mouth.

  How Mills managed to wrangle their way past her locked workshop door to leave their ugly little 90s Christmas wishlist horror-show on her bench, she doesn't know or care. Whether Mills conspired with the Skull grunts or with Clarissa's own assistants, it doesn't matter. The damn thing creeps her out.

  It's a toy. Just a hunk of crude circuitboards and a voice chip and animatronics, crammed into a plastic shell and stuffed into a sack of polyester fur.

  Then why does it give her such unsettling fucking vibes? Clarissa knows what an electronic feels like when it enters into her Dynamo field.

  She doesn't know what Footlettuce feels like.

'Fess up your feels (IC or OOC) before 2021's out (accepting)

//Pssh, the meme's kinda ambiguously worded I think you're good!! But gosh Arz, I really appreciate it chum. I'm really glad we always end up back in this little corner of the RPC even if one or both of us steps away for a while. You're one of the mutuals who I see cross my dash and I'm just like "ayyyyy!" /fingerguns

  CRS-00′s laptop is never far out of reach in these moments.

  Even in quiet moments of solitude like these she’s always thinking, always untangling some knotted thread of code, always scoping her next target for ZED’s backdoor salesmanship of her services. If she stops then the shadows of the past mire around her feet and gum her in place. 

  For all that the AI specialist argues that the Self is chemical, digitising her mind only enshrined her demons in code. Still she’s grateful that RU left the mess to sprawl untampered with. Of course...could she objectively know otherwise? Of course she couldn’t. But it’s irrelevant beyond matters of scholarly curiosity. She trusts Ryu.

  The lid has been closed for a while. However gentle, the pull of her thick hair tilting her skull back served well to distract her from her research. How Ryu manages to tug her mane with those blades (not so much claws as they are literal knives) without slicing through the locks is one of the little mysteries of her partner’s lover-boy persona. She’s much more adept with this body than when she first was activated and relied on him to support her wobbly, too-long and too-numerous legs, but her claws still royally scratch up the keyboards and mice she still favours despite being a walking computer herself.

  The real trick of Ryu’s is in the way she forgets her work so easily...his knives in her hair and the electronic reverb that laces his gravelly tone are a balm for her anxious mind. Maybe she would believe it was a sly little programmed response to his presence had Ryu not been able to cast the same magic on her when she was still...if not entirely then at least 90% organic.