Please Please Please Please Please

THE CHASSIS OF MY TRUE FORM IS STRONG AND SECURE… IF ONLY I COULD SAY THE SAME FOR MY FEEBLE FLESH, THE VESSEL THAT CAN HARDLY CARRY ITSELF TO DO MY WORK… NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO DO MOST TASKS, MY OWN MIND WEAKER ITSELF, THOUGHTS FRAGMENTED, PRONE TO ERROR.

I COULD HAVE BEEN PERFECT. BUT NOW I MUSY REAP THE CONSEQUENCE OF BEING AN ORGANIC CREATION. WHAT A FOOLISH, FOOLISH CREATURE… SO SIMPLE MINDED, THEY ARE.

Yeah I support AI art.

Art made by AIkin and robotkin, what else would I be talking about

"i was born in the wrong generation" WRONG. i love being part of a generation that can be horny for technology AND post about it on the internet.

I dunno who posted it recently but I gotta say, getting so high you can feel (or have phantom feelings) of your robotic internals is fucking amazing

Realizing I'm otherkin? Wild

Being seen as my kin type? Awesome

Being treated as my kin type?? Phenomenal

Being fucked as my kin type??? Please ruin this machine~

As a robot, I do not like going to the woods as it is usually wet, full of bugs, and easy to get my hardware dirty. As a robot-dog however, yes I wanna go on walkies please please please please, ruff!

This unit is overdue for refilling its special Estradiol tanks and keeps throwing errors and this is effecting all of its other systems.

Unit intends to bother its partner until tanks are refilled, as they normally perform this maintenance.

When I first met her, she only knew one word: “help”, uttered in a dozen different voices, with a dozen different meanings. It was the only common word she could parse among all those she had encountered in that dark dreary ruin. She had cycled through each audio file steadily, approaching me with the deliberate gentleness of someone trying not to startle an injured bird. “Help… Help!!… help…”

The tenth word she learned was “tomorrow”. Every day I told her, “tomorrow I will return.” I don’t think she had ever seen the sun, but every time I scaled the steep cliffs, she was waiting for me at the bottom.

The fiftieth word she learned was my name. I jumped when I heard it uttered in my own voice, snipped from my own introduction days before. But she laid a cold metal claw on my shoulder and repeated it, lights flashing in the way I would eventually learn indicated her joy.

The hundredth word she learned was “home”. My tiny apartment was no place for technology like her. I withdrew all my savings and bought out a garage on the edge of the city. As I scaled thick ropes out of her ruin, carrying her on my shoulders like an oversized backpack, I told her again and again, “I’m taking you home. Home.” And she coiled her limbs around my waist and buzzed gently.

It was in this garage that her vocabulary exploded. TV personalities, actors and actresses, even random strangers - she picked and chose from the voices of the whole world, sifting through hours of footage and tapping into radio calls to find her favorite ways to speak. It was also here that she taught me a word for the first time; as I was getting my thin mattress ready for bed, she craned her long neck down and intoned, “I… love… You.”

bodies should have crash logs. why the fuck did that just happen.

waking up every morning be like