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> Robot girl whose body has sentimental value
> Robot girl whose owner has covered it in stickers of things she likes
> Robot girl whose owner does its maintenance and whose body is so far from the factory default that its owner is the only one who can do that maintenance
> Robot girl who is covered in small dents and scratches from the antics it gets up to with its owner
> Robot girl whose body tells a story
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eroticism of the machine this, eroticism of the machine that. what about the AROMANTICISM of the machine. what about the electric comfort of looking at a beautiful turbine engine and knowing that it is just like you. what about the urge to cut open your chest to prove your heart is made of wires and your ribs are made of steel. what about that
more viktor machineposting. this is getting out of hand
girl whose paws are designed to crush up rocks. bumpy lumpy like on roller cone bits
Clanker
[ Don't call me a slur ]
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Feeling [mischievous] tonight... but it's [quite safe] really...
I need music that literally sounds like machines. It carries the most emotional significance for me and encourages the highest level of focus. Trying to describe this kind of music in a positive way also feels like a joke, because people tend to not enjoy loud mechanical sounds.
"girl" that finds a robot that looks weirdly similar to "her" at the dump, and out of some strange sympathy decides to bring it home and try to fix it up. only to find that the machine's servos are busted and it's operating on permanent low-power mode even when plugged in, its limbs weak and movements ineffective, it can't just stand in the corner. so it has to lay in the only large enough space not covered in clutter - the bed.
"she" almost enjoys spending tired days lying next to the robot, it's nice to not be alone, but its anatomically correct form (so similar. too similar. it's like a mirror) and the knowledge of what its purpose must have been (feels sick to think about. feels wrong in some nameless way) starts brewing some sort of animosity. a weird projected self-hate. wanting to hurt the almost dollishly pathetic thing, never being able to do so, wishing it could sense the strange mixture of feelings and lash out with violence in return.
