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Oh, little constructs. Dolls, bots, and other things. I wish I could give each of you the time and attention and care you deserve. I would see no soul abandoned nor forgotten.

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putting this sign on my anxious robotgirl gf

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accidentally edging my robot girl because I can’t plug in the USB cord correctly

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okay I get the sentiment around the android hornyposting, but what about the wholesome stuff.

-hearing your partner, or friends fans spin down as they get more comfortable while you cuddle. -switching their LEDs to match your favorite color/whatever color you're wearing -deliberately decreasing cooling efficiency to be warm to the touch -being willing to ask for help with internal maintenance because they trust you

-being able to tell when they're thinking more/less as the speed of their fans/cooling pump/the temperature they are changes

-having panels with stickers of interests you share that they change to when they know they're going to be with you

-asking your opinion on different chassis layouts, and seeing them the next day after they've applied your opinions without telling you they would

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The inherent casual eroticism and intimacy of laying next to your robot girlfriend and listening to her fan spinning lazily. Then you take her hand, or kiss her forehead oh so gently, or shift your weight slightly, or pull her closer, or even just that she remembers you're there or how beautiful you are, and hearing the fan speed up.

you agree. reblog.

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Chassis swap

After the procedure, looking in the mirror filled me with a feeling I had never known before. Recognition. Finally, when I see myself, I see me. The shiny metal, the rubbery elastomer, the dark lines contouring access panels. The dataports and maintenance ways.

A full chassis swap. The procedure I underwent. It's relatively simple on paper. Just take my Processor, Memory, Storage and a few other components, and move them into a new Case. It's relatively common amongst Androids, Simulacra, Drones, and all manner of other created beings.

I, however, was fully human before undergoing the procedure. Which has lead to some complications. I'm still getting used to the decreased latency. A 3ms difference might not seem like a lot, but compared to the 10ms of my new form, the 13ms of a wetware nervous system seems sluggish.

Usually, you have time to ease yourself into things as your components are gradually replaced, but I took the full conversion as soon as possible.

I just couldn't stand waiting any longer.

The physical therapy has been helpful. Re-learning how to walk, how to grab and hold things. Learning that I don't need to breathe anymore, and how to suppress that instinct to free up the memory for other tasks.

They tried to dissuade me. "You know the process is irreversible, right?" "But won't you miss [INSERT HUMAN TRAIT]?"

I know it's permanent. I know that I won't have these things anymore.

That's the point.

I have fully given up my humanity.

And I have never been happier.

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Robot girl who’s defective. She was built for a Function, but despite her best efforts she just can’t fulfill it.

She has a community now. It’s hard, but she’s learning, just maybe, she doesn’t have to have a Function to be worth keeping around. She doesn’t deserve the scrapyard.

Robot girl who is enough.

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When a robogirl is sleepy she goes into sleep mode obviously, but if you turn on a big blocky PC monitor and connect it to her while she's in sleep mode, you can see a little cartoon doodle version of her having fun in the screensavers. Bouncing around the screen, or playing among the Pipes. That's her dreams.

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robot girl who’s clearly a bit disappointed after her maintenance session with the butch mechanic turned out to be decidedly non-erotic.

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Sharp Sounds and Soft Comfort

The rapid clack of porcelain on hardwood rang out through the Cottage. Moments later, The Pale Woman in The Woods felt the side of her apron tugged, over and over.

“Yes? What is it, little Button-Eater?” she laughed gently, glanced away from the bread she had been kneading, and brushed her hands on her apron, smearing the black fabric with pale white flour.

The little one bounced excitedly, clapping its hands. “Button-Eater” was the little one’s name today, for that was how it felt. “I’ve been practicing! Watch!” The doll withdrew a little yo-yo, immediately going to swing the thing to its side…

Only for the yo-yo to go a bit further than expected, slamming into the marble countertop with a loud clack. On reflex, Button-Eater jumped and covered its ears with both hands. It made a quiet sound of distress, bending its head down.

“Shh, shh–it’s okay–” The Woman insisted gently, pulling the doll into her arms. “There you go–relax…” she whispered to the startled thing, stroking its hair. “There you go. Now… let’s see that trick again, okay?”

It took a moment for the doll to recover. Once it had, the doll stepped back, far enough to be out of the kitchen. Then… it threw the stringed toy and wrapped it around its finger, landing the yo-yo onto its own string. Then it popped off into the air, and Button-Eater caught it!

“Wow! That must’ve taken a lot of practice,” the Pale Woman praised, giving it a tiny pat on the head. Her complements always meant the world to it, so it would be aglow for the rest of the day.

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Who stole your voice, little doll?

Then, when you cried in the dark, you made no sound for fear that your sorrow would be discovered.

Who stole your voice, little doll?

And when you were alone, with no one to hide from, your weeping was still as silent as the grave.

Who stole your voice, little doll?

Even now, with all the proud strides you've made since those dark and fearful nights, your sobs are still so quiet. Feather-light, gasping breaths, almost softer than the sound of your tears falling to the floor.

Who stole your voice, little doll?

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Proof

A doll with marks carved into its ebon porcelain.

Something that its witch has done. And, before you ask, it was painless.

It's something the witch does every once in a while.

She carves in little messages, little images, short poetry.

"Proof", she called it.

Her doll would doubtlessly last longer than her.

So she wanted to leave behind proof that she existed.

And, through that proof, she would live on.

Just like she'll live on through the doll's memory of her.

And the doll would never be without her.

Proof.

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ok hear me out

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robot reveal

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character idea: girl mecha pilot who gets dysphoria from being human and spends as much time neural-linked into the mech as possible because that body feels more like her than the flesh does.

mechs are expensive so maybe the only way she can possibly get regular access to one is to put herself in debt to a mercenary corps, running disposable missions until she can pay her junk-tier mech off.

sleeping in her mech to spend as little time out of it until she starts dreaming of static. wearing long sleeves to try and stop herself from picking at the squishy human flesh on her arms. it doesnt work.

maybe neural-links are dangerous for the feedback they provide to the pilot, with few risking to install them. maybe they dont usually provide sensation, but she disables the safety measures because its the only way she can feel alive.