a robot girl, coveted in technology from different areas across her body and internally too different types of software and many middle man devices to make it all connect together, layed out on the table open and turned off after a failed attempt by the doctor/it person to update her to fix an issue with her os.
"I'm sorry but it's a miracle she has survived this long. She has so many fixes on her just to keep running. We had her blur screen atleast 4 times trying to update her. I.. think you'd be better off just turning her off at this point for her own peace."
"NO! iv had her since I was 12 in 2073! Iv been through so much with her. I- I can't! She means so much to me."
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I just want a robot that can pick his attachments, can go as long as I want. Imaging he can make his tongue vibrate as he eat you out- ugh please. Robots would be such great lovers
Sometimes, a girl will realize her first crush is with her twin sister, and with a pit in her stomach keep staring for inappropriate amounts of time. Taking in every curve and shape of her sister. Memorizing her, and especially the shape and size of her bitchbreaker.
She'll shake and shiver with shame and lust as she imagines how her sister looks underneath those very revealing clothes she loves to wear, and get drenched just thinking about it. And she'll hate herself for it.
And sometimes, what she'll despise the most, is when her sister brings a girl home, and fucks her brains out, she can't help but peek through a hole in the wall she carved out just to catch a glimpse of her sisters magnificent balls. And she'll despise that she finds herself moaning and whining as she touches her pussy, imagining herself as the girl who's being treated to a pleasure she has only dreamed of.
Her sister, of course, isnt stupid and knows this. Its why she brings home the loudest sluts she can find. Its funnier that way.
“You misunderstand,” Ciber says with a sticky sweet voice and enough conviction to make even a god hesitate. Noir is not a god, he definitely stalls. “They’re not simple bots, they are me,” the mushroom-covered robot says.
Noir’s hand stops. The little equally fungus-clad vaguely animal shaped bot he’s been scritching under the chin blinks lazily at him, but doesn’t otherwise move or show any kind of reaction to what’s happening.Â
They always acted like, well, animals. He never picked up any sign of much independent thought from them. He’d assumed...
“I grew beyond this one form a long long time ago. So now I am more. We are more.”
Noir looks from the smaller bot to Ciber and draws back his hand like he’s been jolted. Ciber laughs, and the echo every time they speak suddenly makes a lot more sense.Â
“You wanted to touch, but wouldn’t let yourself if you knew we’re one. So we did not tell you. It’s fine, we don’t mind, it’s pleasant. And you need the haptic feedback.”
“Oh gods,” Noir says, focusing on his hand.
“Gods have nothing to do with this,” Ciber says. Somehow that’s not very reassuring.
The fact the US space force doesn’t try base itself more on Star Wars is upsetti spaghetti. Like how can you not name at least part of soldiers in space Skywalkers, this also goes for NASA and other stuff
I will rectify this in my story, flying mini mechs that get dropped from helicopters are obviously called the Skywalkers. Finger guns giant mech? Cowboy, it reloads finger guns by sticking them into the holster on its belt area where extra ammo is stored. Neo-confederate in a giant robot decks Yellowstone park after it tries to destroy any cities in the area then mounts its skin and teeth as extra armour cause diamond knuckle dusters look cool. The new Israeli prime minister body slams the Rock back into its temple to stop it destroying Jerusalem.
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A bit from my most recent chapter of my extremely long fanfic that started as "i think heathcliff and ishmael should be happy" and spiraled HEAVILY out from there. In this Mirror World, Ryoshu and Araya escaped the House of Spiders together, and things have been... Fraught, ever since. Araya is aged up slightly (she is almost 12) for the sake of the plot and tension. This fic really was meant to be "awww look at the OTP getting married" and then turned into "and then Ryoshu and Hong Lu decided we should have an actual plot" so. Lmao. Oops.
Basically i have so many thoughts about how messy Ryoshu and Araya could be, and how you can dig deep into stuff around them, and god. My heart hurts writing them.
Snip is about ~500 words.
Content warnings: Flashbacks to Ryoshu's shitty parents, Canto 9 Spoilers (obviously), themes on how the cycle of abuse perpetuates and how the fuck is Ryoshu gonna (try to) escape that, of understanding your own abusers and hating them more for it, of being a child in a shitty situation and a shitty society and not having the power to do anything about it so u gotta take it out on the only person who loves u unconditionally
---
A sharp sigh. A shifting of box springs. “I want to go back to Lorem.”
Ryōshū blinks. “We haven’t lived in Lorem for two years now.”
“Well, that’s what I want!” Araya’s voice pitches higher, shriller.
“We can’t—”
“I don’t care if we can’t!”
The scream is so sudden that Ryōshū jolts upright. Araya’s feet appear over the edge of the bunk, then slam onto the ground as she jumps down in a full heap. “Araya, I have to keep you safe.”
“You say that every time!” Araya stomps towards the bathroom, not looking back.
“Don’t yell at me,” Ryōshū starts, a threat looming in her voice.
“I’m not yelling!” Araya whirls and puts a hand on the door to the bathroom. “I hate it here! I hate this stupid town! I hate moving!” She slams the door. “I hate you!”
There’s no silence this time, as Araya’s wails can be heard clear through the door. But Ryōshū can’t respond to that. She’s turned to stone, a small saving grace, because the minute Araya turned to yell at her, Ryōshū felt a sudden understanding of how someone could hit a child. And she hates herself for the impulse. A voice like Valencina’s in her head says that it’d be easy to handle it. Just backhand the girl so she complies.
It’s your fault for not teaching her any sort of discipline, Valencina growls.
Ryōshū swallows and shakes her head. She pushes the thoughts back. She didn’t hit her child, and she’s not going to. But the second voice that creeps in is worse than Valencina’s. It’s a voice with eyes like hers.
This is what I said would happen. She’s not a dog. She’s going to grow up and throw all your hard work right back in your face. The Dihui Star looms over her even now. It’s a waste of time, motherhood. You’ll see. You’ll understand. She’ll be just like you. Because you’re just like me.
“No,” she murmurs, “no it’s not. No she’s not. No I’m not.”
She repeats it like a mantra, even as the shakes take over her. She looks to the door. Her limbs feel like lead as she drags her body over to it. She collapses in front of it, leaning her ear against the wood, pressing her palm to its cool surface, and waits for Araya’s crying to dim.
When the sobs die, Ryōshū says, “Araya. Can I come in?” No immediate response. “Araya, please.”
She hears the sound of feet across the floor. The knob turns. Ryōshū sits upright so that when the door opens inward, she doesn’t fall into the bathroom. She stares up at Araya’s tear-streaked face and hates herself at that moment. She starts to stand, but Araya plops to the ground next to her, sniffing.
“Do you still love me, Mommy?” Her voice is small.
“Of course I do.” Ryōshū wraps an arm around Araya’s shoulders.
“Even though… Even though I said all that?” Araya melts against her, shivering.
