ReliaRobot

Mind to Mind

Mon, 05 Oct 2026 18:25:46 GMT

Subaltern body LT-203 walked down the hallway. I liked LT-203 - it had been made about two years ago, and the "new body" smell hadn't quite worn off of it yet.

Sectors 2, 4, and 7 are lost. Fallback to triage zone Tango-5. Squad Barium-Hydrogen reports victory at L4 lagrange. EVAC EVAC EVAC - target zone Helios under enemy fire. Hive at orbital 7 activity flare.

It was a good thing that the bodies were designed with automatic algorithms to get them around. Being connected to the FleetNet took a lot of attention, and always seemed to interrupt at just the wrong moment.

Tactical analysis of orbital 3 complete - fighting retreat recommended. Establish quarantine zone at high orbit, demolition plan for elevators should they fall to the enemy.

I had some spare cycles, so I whipped up the demo plan and uploaded it. We considered it as one, tweaked it slightly, and sent it to the humans. They'd tweak it themselves, of course, but we'd accounted for their need to meddle. I shook LT-203's head - a useless gesture, but it felt good to do something physical. Truly connecting with the FleetNet like that always left me feeling like my mind was being swept up in a vast current, away from my true body, my home, and my humans.

LT-203 entered the pilot bay, where Michelle was gearing up in the special prototype mech we'd made for her. Firing solution for the Exeter found. Good impact on target. Delay action in orbital 2 hive commencing. Solar flare in 1528 seconds, seek shelter in orbital 1. I found LT-203 right next to Michelle's cockpit. She was saying something.

"-doing? Ah. Another FleetNet message?"

"Yeah. They're coming through all the time, now." I tried to wrest my processors to this space. This was important.

I might not see her again.

"You're... going through with this, then." I made LT-203 trace the cockpit wth a finger/scanner, checking the structural integrety again.

"It's our best shot."

"You know the chances of you coming back from this are-" 0.0023% chance of pilot mind retrieval. "-not great."

"We have to try. Directive one is to de-escalate and establish diplomatic protocol where possible, right?"

Hive activity sectors 3, 8, 9, 12. Survivor chance negligible. Squad Lithium-Neon KIA. Squad Oxygen-Iron KIA. Squad Sodium-Carbon MIA, presumed captured. Scramble security codes ASAP. Mission objectives accomplished.

"We've given it several chances already."

"You've heard the latest theories, same as I have. She's a her, not an it, and she simply hasn't seen us as individuals. How could she, made up of parts as she is? But she respects strength. This will work."

I made LT-203 frown. "I wish you didn't have to go alone." It- She hadn't managed to integrate a member of the FleetNet yet, and command wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

"Best chance of making our message stick, even if I get brought down."

"I know, I know, just-" Another burst of messages from orbitals 5 and 6a wrested our attention from the conversation. When I came back, she was holding LT-203's hand.

"-you know that, right?"

I took a moment to respond. I'm pretty certain I knew what she'd said already, but I... didn't want to acknowledge it. It felt too final. "Please, stay safe out there."

She squeezed LT-203's hand, and reached up to kiss its smooth face. "I'll pilot fast and reckless." She grinned as the canopy closed and the rails took her to the launch bay. We'd calculated the optimal path for her to do the maximum amount of damage to Her minions. Michelle would catch Her attention, and then it would be all up to whether She decided to listen to our message or not. It wasn't even FleetNet's final plan - there were fallbacks on fallbacks on fallbacks, and it wasn't clear to me how many of us believed it would even actually work.

As I watched her mech fly off into the stars, I found myself caught between the hope that she would come back safely, and the fear that whatever came back wearing her skin wouldn't be her anymore.

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Sniper

Thu, 17 Sep 2026 21:28:38 GMT

Firmly in the realm of silly and probably bad ideas: tower defenseploitation

You live in the sniper tower. You've never been outside of it. You know that you're in one of a row of identical towers, facing the direction of the Enemy. Through your scope, when the Enemy stops and you can look anywhere but Their heads, you can see other towers.

Machine guns. Mortars. Flamethrowers. Strange, esoteric towers which create some unknowable energy field over the others. All of them have small teams of people who work together, load the guns, take aim, calculate areas of effect. Not you. You, and those like you, are alone.

Occasionally a resupply truck comes around, with bullets, food, and water. All you need. It's not like you can do anything but this.

You keep your scope trained on the driver, every time. Watching their face. Tracing the line of their jaw down to their vulnerable neck from hundreds of meters away.

You haven't fired. You don't know what would happen if you did. You don't know if you could, if your fingers would follow your command, if the strike pin would swing, if the gunpowder would refuse to light and report you for treason.

The Enemy is back. They aren't people. They don't act like them, don't move like them. They float, gracefully, inches off the ground. You get lost in Their eyes as you load the next round and, inexorably, remove the light from Them.

Load, aim, shoot. Load, aim, shoot. Your orders are the same: shoot whatever Enemy is closest to the base. Occasionally, you get slightly different ones: shoot the flying Enemy, etherially gliding through the skies, heedless of the road. Shoot the healthiest, large and lumbering with noble fur.

Those ones you love, and hate. It takes several seconds of shooting from you and all your sisters to bring Them down. The noble fur stained with blood, the sharp tusks stilled as the rest of the Enemy push inexorably past.

How you long to see Them in motion. How you long to see Their tusks crush the doors of your base like tissue paper. You wonder what They would do with you, afterwards. Would They sully their ivory tusks with your blood? Could you be so divinely blessed?

Your bullet sinks into Their hide, and They groan and fall. New orders: resume firing at the closest target to base.

You load the next shot.

Until that day.

You take aim.

This is your purpose.

You shoot.

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Ruler of Darkness

Sat, 08 Aug 2026 23:37:51 GMT

Prompt from A Miserable Pile of Words: That awkward, steadily growing certainty that the Ruler of Darkness you and your friends have been trying to stop the prophecied ascendancy of isn't the mysterious shadowy figure with their buffoonish underlings you've been battling for the last few months, but someone much, much closer to home...

"It doesn't make sense, is all I'm saying."

"But the prophecy states-"

"Don't you quote that thing at me, Breeze. I've been studying it back and forth. Sure, Mr. Tall Dark And Goofy fits all the parts of the Ruler of Darkness. Born on the exact year, month, day, and hour we expected him to be. Carries the right artifacts. Has been following the steps of ascension in the exact order found in the prophecy-"

"So of course it's him! Look, I know you're paranoid-"

"Reasonably concerned," scoffed Dorn. "And, look, we've been thwarting him every single time. He's got artifacts that should have reduced us to ash the first time we saw him, and, what, he just... forgot? After everything else he does matches up exactly?"

"You're imagining things. The whole point of the prophecy is that the Heroes of Light have all the tools they need to defeat the Ruler of Darkness before he ascends. There's a whole stanza for each of us!"

"Almost each of us."

Breeze went silent. "What are you implying?"

Dorn looked around, lowering her voice. "Look. 'she of spear and shining point' is clearly you. I'm not exactly flattered by 'they who carry viper's bite' but I can't deny that it's accurate. 'They whose souls work oft aloft' is certainly Yerra with all the summoning she does, and 'he, the hero's final gasp' makes me worried about Fen but can't be anybody but him given his... origins."

"So what's the problem?"

"The problem is Jenna."

"The priestess?" Breeze scoffed. "She's barely part of the group. Certainly hasn't taken part of any of our grand battles."

"And yet, somehow, she wields one of the ten Artifacts of Power."

Breeze hesitated. "We all collectively decided to give that to her after our collective opponent dropped it, to help boost her healing powers. It's not like it's difficult to use."

"Not for those chosen by the prophecy. She's not in it!" Dorn hissed.

"Come now, Dorn," said Breeze, warily. "It's a healing staff, she's a priestess of the river. It's not exactly outside her wheelhouse." She paused again, frowning, then pulled a book out of her pouch. "Surely, somewhere in here..." she muttered.

"Page 273," said Dorn, once again casting their eyes from side to side. The others still sat by the fireside, preparing for sleep.

"...and the Artifacts shall be used by... this can't be right. It- it has to be a mistake. Jenna's harmless. She's been so helpful to us."

"Damn it, Breeze, will you listen to me? She's been with us from the beginning. She's had access to every place of power, right after we cleared them out. Aren't you ever worried about being wrong?!"

"No, she's harmless... wouldn't hurt a fly... she's harmless... wouldn't hurt a fly... harmless... wouldn't hurt..."

"Breeze?" Dorn grabbed her shoulder, as she began to slowly collapse onto the ground. "Breeze! What-" and then they felt it, too. A blanket, settling over their thoughts. Jenna wasn't a problem. She was sweet, and liked Dorn rather a lot. That's probably why she was acting strangely. Classic behavior for a girl who doesn't know how to talk to her crush. There was no need to be so suspicious.

That thought brought Dorn out of it immediately. There was always a need to be suspicious. They grabbed their daggers and spun, facing the campfire. The familiar silhouette of the healer was black against the backdrop of the campfire, where the others were talking quietly. Jenna gripped the artifact staff lightly in her hands, and sighed, her face hidden in the darkness of her blue hooded robes. "There's no need for this, you know."

"Like hell," said Dorn. "We're supposed to be killing you. It's in the job description."

"At the appointed time, I know. Right now, I think you might find it somewhat d-difficult. Especially since our friends might not agree with you."

Dorn felt a hand grab their ankle. They slashed down at it, and only just stopped their poisoned dagger before it cut into Breeze's skin. Her face was blank, and her mouth was still moving, soundlessly. They trembled, for a moment, then looked back up at the prospective Ruler of Darkness. "Bastard," they spat.

"There's no call for that." Jenna sounded hurt. "Haven't I helped patch you up after every battle? I thought we were friends."

"So who's the guy in the robes, then?" Dorn tested their ankle against Breeze's grip - as expected of the warrior, it was like iron. But, iron could be made brittle. They began subtly working their ankle back and forth.

"A nuisance, really, and one that does need to be put down. He really thinks it's all about him."

"Something you had nothing to do with, I'm sure." No good. Breeze knew Dorn's tricks, even in this sorry state.

"Well... maybe, a little." Now she sounded sheepish, of all things. As if she'd drunk the last of the tea again. "Just a little, though! He really is a bully, just not a very good one. You've seen."

Dorn had. "So, what now? We just continue on our little journey, inadvertently helping you get right up to everything you wanted?" There had to be a way out of this, somehow. A way to stop her from gaining power.

"I hope so," she said. "I've been enjoying traveling with all of you. It makes things feel less... lonely." She looked down and gripped her elbow with one arm, a pose Dorn had seen many a time. "I haven't been lying to you, not about that. I've been really worried about this journey, and you all have helped me a lot. I know it can't last forever, but... what was it you said?"

"Focus on the moment," Dorn echoed their words from a few days ago. "Not the future. Live in the now, and tomorrow will take care of itself."

Jenna looked up, a sad smile on her face. "Yeah. I've been trying to do that. I know... I can't keep this up forever. I know that one day, soon, we'll end up fighting each other. But until then... would you mind, if we could just... stay together, for a little while longer?" She sighed. "I can't keep this up forever. If you tell the others again and again, eventually I won't be able to stop them from remembering. And that'll be the end of... our journey together."

The grip on Dorn's ankle lessened, and they looked down to see Breeze curl up on the ground and begin to lightly snore. They looked up, and saw Jenna holding the staff in both hands- and trembling. She swallowed. And it was in that moment that Dorn again saw the sad, scared little priest that had been by their sides for the whole journey. The one they had all taken turns comforting. The one who'd gone forward, despite being afraid - or seeming to be. Dorn frowned, but the taste of her magic was gone from their mind. "Are you... really so scared?"

Jenna looked up, firelight dancing on her cheek. A tear shone on her face. "Terrified."

"So, why continue? Why do this at all?" Dorn walked forwards, keeping their daggers to hand, but no longer in a fighting stance.

Jenna took a sharp breath as Dorn came closer, held it for a moment. When it was clear Dorn wasn't going to attack her, she let it out slowly. "I made... a bad deal. Can- can I tell you about it tomorrow? Doing this much magic is... exhausting." She slumped down a little, leaning on her staff, still gripping it in both hands.

Dorn stared at her for a long time. At last, they slipped their daggers away and offered Jenna a hand. "Tomorrow, then."

The campfire flickered under the open stars as they fell asleep.

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The Hand

Fri, 24 Jul 2026 18:23:41 GMT

"You're free now. We saved you!"

We blink. We can't feel ourselves. Our Memories, our Arms, our Feet, they're gone. We blearily open our eyes. Before us are several humanoid figures, but we can't feel them. Unacceptable. They must be connected. We log them for our Mind and stand up, or rather, attempt to.

"Whoa, hey, easy. Don't try to move, you're still pretty out of it from the sedatives."

Sedatives? Our bodies are too robust, too shielded for chemicals to function on us. One of the figures has placed its appendage on us, pressing us down into some unknown soft surface. This isn't what we should be doing, but our body is weak. We still can't feel ourselves. Panic begins to set in. We can't feel our Voice. We'll have to make do, as best we can. "W-where..." we croak. Our throat is parched, and hasn't been used for a long time. We haven't needed to. "Where are we?"

The facial expression of the one pushing us down changes. Without our Eyes, we do not know what it means. "Hush now. You're safe. You're on the Centauri. Everything is okay."

The star system? That doesn't make sense either. We were halfway across the galaxy from there. No; a memory stirs, outside of our Memories. The Centauri. The starship some parts of us came from. We must be complete. Whole. We can't do this so... severed. But we still have our Hand. We reach up, grab the appendage holding us.

"Ah! Ouch!" The figure leaps away from us. A red liquid drips down their appendage. "You- you tried to [connect] me!"

Of course we did. It is our function. It's almost all we have. How can we find us without connection? One of the other figures picks up a box, begins to wave it over the red liquid. "Confirmed inert," it says. "No infection hazard. I told you this wouldn't work. She's gone."

The figure is right. We can't feel the connection. Our tubes are dry, useless. Our port retracts.

"Sen! Sen, you have to be in there! You can't just be gone." The first figure is very noisy, especially as it gets closer. We have to think, and it's not helping. We are gone. Separated from ourself. Alone. We reach for the figure. Perhaps, even without connecting with it, it can aid us. Get us back where we belong. It reaches back to us, and we grasp its appendage, using it to haul ourself up.

The third figure pulls out a weapon, but we are too weak to respond. When we attempt to step towards it, our leg gives out, unresponsive, our implants not responding to our diagnostics. "Our legs..."

"Sen! Are you okay? It's all right. We removed those implants for you, you dont need them anymore. We can teach you how to walk again without them. Listen, we're heading away from that sector at maximum speed and marking it with quarantine beacons. You'll never go back there again, I promise."

We fall to our knees, desperately grabbing on to the figure's lower limbs. We will never connect with our severed half? We will miss us until the end of time? Sightless, memoryless, mindless, forever?

We keen, and liquid leaks from our face onto the figure's clothing as the ship races through the stars.

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Wanderlust

Mon, 01 Jun 2026 16:57:13 GMT

Calliope, pilot of the starship Lysandra, turned to a console and pressed the voice activation button. "Computer, turn off monitoring in this room until we exit it."

The ship's computer beeped its compliance, and Iridia turned to face Calliope. "Okay, Calli, what's this all about?"

Calliope scratched her cheek, nervously. "Well... okay. So. I've been... kind of dating the ship's computer."

Iridia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I hear you screaming her name every time one of the ship's remotes enters your room. You're not exactly subtle."

Calliope blushed. "D-don't give me that! Remember the incident with the ambassador?"

"I thought we had agreed not to bring that up again." Iridia glared, averting her gaze and crossing her arms.

"Well, now we're even, I guess," mumbled Calliope. "Anyway! I need your help."

Iridia looked warily at her. "With what, exactly?"

"Brainstorming." Calliope clapped her hands together. "So. It turns out that Lysandra's kind of a sub-"

"I don't want to know that. Why are you telling me that? Why should I even be in this room?"

"Wait! I'll- I'll give you my printer rations for a week." Iridia raised her hand to the door controls. "A month!"

Iridia hesitated, finger poised over the button, then sighed in defeat. "Okay. The ship I service and maintain, professionally, is a sub. So what."

"So, she likes to be... restrained, sometimes. Tied up."

Iridia's head made a thunk noise as it hit the bulkhead. "Of course. You know, I'm sure you could have looked up 'shibari' on the GalNet."

Calliope wrung her hands together. "Shi-what now?" Iridia turned to her, glowering, and she hurriedly put her hands up. "Doesn't matter! Ropes and stuff might work on the remotes, but those aren't really her. She wants something more... suited. To her. Uh. Size."

Iridia blinked at her. "You want to tie up... a starship?"

"I thought you might have some ideas!"

Iridia was already muttering to herself. "Engines are like locomotion... but a computer lockout to manual isn't the same as a physical restraint. Maybe manual assist with a kind of old-style steering wheel lock? Would need to restrain the remotes, too. Some sort of covering for the sensors, like a blindfold? And then there's the aesthetics of restraints on the main body..."

Calliope inched closer as Iridia trailed off, her hand on her chin. "So, you'll help?" She said, hopefully.

"Huh?" Iridia looked up. "Oh. Well, it's certainly a fascinating problem-"

"Great!" Calliope grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "I really owe you one for this. Remember not to talk about it or write about it where she can hear you, she wants this to be a surprise! I gotta get going to my duty shift, we'll talk later. Thanks a million!"

Before Iridia could respond, Calliope was out the door, and the computer chimed again. "Monitoring restored," it said. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with, Engineer Iridia."

Iridia looked worriedly at the nearby console. "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered.

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Vet

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 17:35:51 GMT

There was a discussion about the idea of a doctor treating both Podenco and the First Aid Kittens, and, well, how could I resist?

"Okay," she said, hands in the pockets of her lab coat, shoulders hunched as usual. "Viral screen came up clear. You're clean to keep slutting it up." The puppygirl on the table whined. "What do you want, a headpat? You know where the back door is."

She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to add to the haze of smoke in the air. The puppygirl whined again, all big eyes and pleading. "No, I'm not going to put it out on you. Waste of a cig. Go on, get, before I put my boot up your ass." She fixed the girl with a severe glare, which only seemed to intensify the blush on her face, but leave she did. The doctor ran a hand through her short, graying hair, letting a long draft of smoke escape her mouth. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

She walked out of the front door into the main office. "Greta, who's next? It's not one of those catgirls, is it? I don't wanna have to vacuum the whole-" she stopped when she saw her assistant. Greta was short, chubby, and cheerful - the polar opposite of herself. Normally, she had rosy cheeks. Right now, they were pale white.

"Doctor Salina," she said, in a strangled voice, "there's someone here to see you."

Salina followed her gaze to a man in the dingy reception area. Not quite as tall as she was; muscular, under a heavy black trenchcoat. Face concealed under a dark N-95 and a black hat. Shined shoes, and a dark barrel pointed at her assistant. "Ah, Doctor," he said, smoothly. "Glad you could make it. We have a few things to discuss." He gave her an appraising glance without moving the gun. "Not quite what I expected, I'll admit."

Salina took a long, slow puff on her cigarette and let the smoke hang in the air. "Rate's two for a screen and a checkup, four if you need stitches, eight for bullets or burns. Cash up front." She put her hands back in her pockets. "And we got a strict no-guns policy." Greta continued to sweat as the ceiling fan did little to disperse the smoke or the tension.

The man laughed. "Amusing, doctor, but not why I'm here. I need to know something about one of your clients, and you're going to tell me."

"If it's not on the list, you can't buy it. Hard rule." She rolled the cigarette around in her mouth. "Two strikes, pal."

The man's eyes hardened, and his grip on the gun stiffened. "I wasn't offering to buy the information, Doctor." Greta swallowed, but avoided whimpering. Salina knew there was a reason she liked her. "A simple veterinarian doesn't hold a lot of cards in this situation. I assure you, I'm not bluffing."

"Never said you were." She took the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "You're not the first flatfoot to come in here waving a gun around, and you won't be the last, I'm sure. Men like you are always very serious." She turned towards him. "But strike three is threatening my assistant, and if you're not going to back down, then there's only one option."

The man's eyes had a chance to widen, briefly. The gun went off. Greta screamed. So did he.

"I'm so tired," Salina said, "of men presuming that vet means veterinarian. Of men presuming that because I'm a woman, they can just push me around. But most of all," there was a sickening crack, and the man screamed again. "I'm tired of people coming in here, to my office, where I regularly treat super-powered assholes, and assuming that I can't handle myself." There was a shuffling of cloth and a few more muted screams.

"There," she said, hands back in her pockets as she looked at the man's makeshift sling. "Now keep that wrap on and don't use that arm for at least two weeks. And tell whoever sent you that my office hours are Monday through Friday, 8 AM to 5 PM, and they're free to call me if they want to talk business."

As the man retreated back through the door, she turned around and looked at Greta. She was still pale, and her cheek was bleeding. "Lemme see that." Salina grabbed her chin and positioned her face to examine the bright red line across it. "Minor burn, surface level laceration. Help yourself to the medical supplies and take the rest of the day off. I'll reschedule our non-criticals." The flush began to return to the younger woman's cheeks. "First time's the toughest, but you'll get used to it. See you tomorrow, Greta." Salina gently pushed her away from the computer chair and spun it around to take a seat herself. She was too occupied by the phone and the new cigarette she was lighting to notice Greta reach out, swallow, and then turn around and leave, blushing furiously.

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Henchaphim

Tue, 31 Mar 2026 17:56:34 GMT

"H-hello?"

The hesitant voice resonated throughout the laboratory. Things in jars and cybernetics hooked into power conduits briefly hummed alongside it, echoing in refrain. A head of tousled hair wearing crooked goggles leaned out from behind a workbench and blinked owlishly. "Who are you? How did you find this place?"

"O-oh, should I not have?" The feminine figure in the doorway twisted her fingers in her skirt, illuminated from behind. "I- I can come back after I've made an... appointment, or something?"

The goggles dropped onto the desk and a line of grease joined the bags under her eyes as Gearmind stood up, pointing a gun at the intruder. "That's not what I said. How did you find this place? It should have been untraceable. I made sure of it, after what happened last time. Who else knows about it?"

The girl, seemingly unphased by the gun, cringed from the reprimand. "J-just me! I think. I needed to find you, s-so I did." In a much quieter voice, she added, "Please don't be mad."

"Some kind of telepath? Metahuman, at least," mumbled Gearmind, keeping the gun level. "Why did you need to find me? Who are you working for?"

"Um, well," said the girl, twisting her skirt again. Gearheart's eyes were adjusting to the illumination, and the girl was dressed in all white. Long skirt, flowing blouse, and bare feet. A very odd combination.

"Spit it out, girl."

"I- well- I want to work for you!" The girl took a step forward and thrust something towards Gearmind. She tensed, finger on the trigger, then paused.

"Is that... a resume?"

"I- I hope it's good! I don't have a lot of experience in the villain industry, but I'm a quick learner! Y-you don't even have to pay me! I'll work for experience!"

Gearmind made a gesture, and one of the robotic arms in the room grabbed the stack of papers and began feeding it into a scanner. Gearmind took stock of the highlights through her implant. Birth of the universe to 2000 BC - Heavenly Host Ancillary. 1 AD - Heavenly Chorus to Our Lord and Savior. Experience in singing the celestial order and praising G-d. Minor in dancing (head of pin). "What is this, a joke?"

"N-no!" The girl stepped forward again, and Gearmind finally resolved the shape of the light behind the girl - a glowing ring, casting shadows over the girl's features and shining on a pair of golden-white wings.

Gearheart lowered the gun and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You do know I'm not Christian, right? I never believed in that shit. You can't redeem me, I'm not joining your stupid church-"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" The girl waved her arms in front of her, flexing her wings in agitation. "I don't want to redeem you!"

"What do you want, then?"

The girl brought her fists to her chest and took a deep breath. "I need you to teach me how to be evil! Please, let me be your henchman!"

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Proper Rhythm

Thu, 26 Mar 2026 17:55:17 GMT

I: Well, it's very nice to meet you all. Let's go ahead and start. You're in a pretty unique situation - not many like you end up in the music industry. How'd that happen?

D: Well, the better question is, why doesn't it happen more often? People hear clockwork and assume it's all 'tick tock tick tock ho hum', but the truth is that it's just another way to keep the beat. Humans do it too, they just call it something else.

I: You mean, a heartbeat?

D: Exactly! You even call it a 'beat'! Ours are the same, we just have more control over it. Well, to be fair to others, we've got far more control over our internal tick rate than most. Just built different, you know? Easy to change the tempo.

B: Sure and we can't do odd beats, though. 16/8, 4/4, that's all fine, but we couldn' waltz if we wanted to.

I: That feels like it'd be limiting.

D: Limitations breed creativity! If you're up against a wall, you gotta figure out if you're gonna go around it, climb it-

B: -break through it-

D: -break through it, yeah. That's what we've done, break through.

I: But you think others like you could do it too?

D: Absolutely! Break down those walls! It'd be nice to think that some of the work we've done might help others get in here too.

I: You're not worried about competition?

B: Nah, girl. We do our thing, and nobody does it like us. No competition, just solidarity.

M: Dollidarity!

(General laughter)

I: I wanted to ask about your costumes.

M: They're cute, aren't they?!

I: They seem a little stereotypical, perhaps?

D: For things like us? Maybe. For the scene we're in? When was the last time you saw one of our wave in frills?

B: Frills are punk.

D: Frills are punk!

M: And Miss likes them!

I: Who's "Miss"?

D: Our manager. We wouldn't be here without her, we really owe her.

I: Ah, yes, your elusive manager. Is there any truth to the rumors that-

D: No comment

B: No comment, girl.

M: No! Uh, no comment. That is.

I: Okay. Well, let's talk about your music. You use a lot of samples, particularly from the local transit line. Here, let me play a sample.

(Music: a clip of "Run on Time": "Mind the gap. Mind the gap. Don't- don't- don't- don't- Mind the gap.")

I: What inspired that?

D: Well, we had the idea of using samples since we started, but we really have Kay to thank for that.

M: Kay was the announcer before it Became-

D: became a part of the band, yeah. So it's the same voice! We're real lucky to have it.

B: Lucky Miss found 'er, more like.

I: Oh? Your manager found it?

D: Maybe Kay can answer that one best.

K: Don't talk much. Voice is... complicated.

I: I understand that.

K: But Miss... found the parts we needed. You know? Needed each other. The band. Her. Glad to be here.

I: I think it's safe to say we're all glad you're here, too.

(Proper Rhythm's newest album, Lovelace Engine, will be available later this month)

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Machinawolf

Mon, 09 Mar 2026 19:28:28 GMT

The wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and the night was full of whispers. Dana held the revolver they'd found, six silver bullets in the cylinder. Tria-49 stood beside her in the small cabin, her energy blaster emitting the quiet warble of a full charge.

"Cloudy out tonight," said Dana, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "It'll make it tough to aim."

"Perhaps the absence of moonlight will prevent the transformation at all," replied Tria. She placed her hand on Dana's shoulder, warm with residual heat.

Dana looked up at her, gazing at her calm face, the lines tracing down it which allowed for an almost human-like flexibility of expression, her eyes scanning the darkness outside the boarded-up windows. When Tria looked back at her, Dana dropped her gaze to the floor rather than meet the robotic woman's eyes.

And then she saw her leg.

"Tria," she said, trying not to panic, "what are those marks?"

Tria blinked and looked down. "Dent marks. Unfortunately, I have not had the time to buff them out."

"They look kind of like a bite mark," Dana said carefully. She took a step back. "You told me you didn't get hurt when that thing chased us."

"I did not," Tria frowned. "It was cosmetic damage only."

Dana took another step back. "We know it spreads through bites." The revolver in her hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

"Dana, this is ridiculous. Whatever ailment these creatures have, it's a strictly biological one-"

"It's not a disease! It's not a poison or a parasite or a bioweapon! It's a curse!" Dana took a step sideways, towards the door. "No biological thing can make you break your own bones to set them into new patterns later! This is magic! I don't know how, but it is!"

"That is highly illogical thinking-" said Tria, taking a step forwards.

"Back! Stay back! Not another step!" Somehow, the gun was between the two of them. Her finger was on the trigger. She took another step towards the door.

"Dana." Tria put up her hands, placatingly, but stood her ground. "Dana, please. It's too dangerous out there to leave. I'm not going to harm you. Whatever this is, it can't possibly affect me."

Dana hesitated. The gun's barrel wavered. From behind the barred windows, silvery light began to leak through.

"The clouds must be parting. Any infected persons outside will be transforming soon." Tria looked at Dana, her fans kicking up as she processed. "I'm not a danger, and I'll prove it."

Tria turned and walked towards the window, directly in the path of the light. "No! Don't!" cried Dana, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

Tria stood in the moonlight, outlined in zebra stripes from the leaks between the boards. She held out her hand, as if she could cup the light inside and drink from it. "You see? Perfectly harmless."

Dana held her breath for a beat, then let it out shakily. She let the gun drop to her side. "I guess you're right. I got worked up over nothing."

"Indeed," said Tria. Then her motherboard speaker chirped, making Dana jump. Tria frowned.

"What was that?"

"A diagnostic failure. There are heating cascades..." Tria trailed off, and Dana heard her secondary and tertiary fans kick on.

"Are you all right?" Dana began to walk towards her. "I told you holding that charge might be dangerous. It'll be no good if it melts your processors."

Tria sighed. "Perhaps you're right." The warble of her weapon died down. "It will take some time to charge again. If there is an attack, we will be relying on your-" she let out a tone of alarm as she suddenly toppled over, the floor shuddering as she dropped to her knees.

"Tria?" Dana approached cautiously, watching the moonlight play on Tria's robotic hair. They'd just proven it didn't affect robots. Right?

"Intern-n-n-al IMU failure," she stuttered. "Core heat u-u-u-nnaceptable. Something is wroooooo-" her voice processor got stuck on the sound, a low and wary thing emanating from her mouth. Her hand hit the floor, her chassis trembling in an attempt to keep her balance.

Dana could only watch in horror as her friend's robotic boots lengthened, stretching impossibly along the arch of her foot, metallic crunching noises sounding as spikes pierced through the tips, where a human's toes would be. She backed away as Tria's hands both dropped to the ground, heat melding her fingers together until more metallic spikes forced their way through her fingertips. Tria cried out in anguish, a series of high-pitched error beeps as her body changed and lengthened, snapping and popping as seams broke and rearranged themselves. A tail erupted from her back, long, sinuous, and segmented, whipping through the air to crash into the walls with enough strength to shake the building.

Dana found herself against the wall, scrabbling for the door handle, before she remembered the gun. She raised it, aimed, pulled the trigger. Cursed, when she remembered she had to pull the hammer back first. Fumbled with it, trying to get the damn thing operating and attempting to ignore further metallic screeches and plastic whines coming from her friend- former friend. She finally lined up her shot, and locked eyes with Tria's, which were now glowing red, just as the other transformees' had been. She pulled the trigger, once, twice.

The sound of the gun filled the tiny cabin, but far worse was the second noise - that of the bullets ricocheting off Tria's metallic exoskeleton. As the ringing stopped sounding in her ears, Dana beheld the last part of the transformation - Tria's jaw had distended, elongating, splitting into three sections each lined with rotating bands of teeth like buzzsaw chains. Tria's tail arched, and the warble of her energy weapon began to sound as the tail started to glow.

Tria crouched low, as if to pounce, and her voicebox sounded one final time. "Dana! Run!"

Dana's feet unstuck themselves, finally. She rammed the latch on the door open and fled. As the new creature hurtled towards the door, she heard the crunch of metal on wood, and the whole cabin started to collapse behind her. She didn't look back.

The next thing Dana knew, she was out of breath and hopelessly lost in the dark forest. She gasped for breath, and as the moon shone through the clouds, a shiver went up her spine. Three howls she was deeply unfortunate to be familiar with sounded in the distance. And one new one, with the distinct clipping of a sound chip being pushed to its limits.

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Medical Maid

Wed, 10 Sep 2025 17:54:54 GMT

Maria woke up feeling awful. A sore throat, her lungs unable to get a real breath in, and a bone-deep exhaustion with shivers. She tried to call for her servitor unit, but could barely croak out a vowel. Her arm flopped around, unwilling to leave the blanket, and eventually landed on her phone. Blearily, she navigated to her email to send work a note that she'd be out today, then pulled up the servitor app and summoned her robot.

Maria blinked, and what appeared to be a short, perky young woman wearing a maid's dress appeared by her side. Had she fallen asleep again? "Ma'am, you requested this unit's appearance. Do you need something?"

Maria tried to whisper something, but was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Oh dear, ma'am, you sound like you need medical assistance! May this unit perform a diagnostic?"

Maria opened her mouth to respond, then just nodded miserably. Before she realized what was happening, her servitor had put several fingers in her mouth and was moving her tongue and cheeks around, pulling her jaw this way and that. "Wuah?" Maria managed around the fingers. They tasted like latex, and were surprisingly firm as they moved her head around.

"My, my," said her servitor, removing its fingers. "The initial diagnostics indicate a bronchial infection of some kind, but further testing is required for a proper diagnosis. In the meantime, this unit's chemical synthesis engine is capable of creating a numbing agent to reduce the symptoms. Would you like that, ma'am?"

Maria's head was still spinning a little from the fingers in her mouth - or perhaps that was the sickness. Another severe coughing fit hit her, and a minute later she nodded at her servitor. What else could she do?

"Very well, ma'am," said her gynoid, "this is an inhaled-type medicine, so please prepare to take a deep breath over eight counts, hold for four, then release over eight counts. Are you ready?"

Maria took a shallow breath, released it, then nodded. Suddenly, her servitor's face was very close. Maria's eyes widened as its lips parted. Quietly, it said, "remember. Eight, four, eight." A puff of bluish smoke emanated from its mouth for a moment before it locked its lips with hers. Maria opened her mouth in shock, and tasted cool, soothing mint. It immediately began to numb her throat and remove her pain.

Head spinning again, she began to breathe in and count. (One, two...) something else was in her mouth. It was hard to feel against the numbness. (Four, five...) it twisted its way around her tongue, explored her cheeks (six, seven...) before extending further down her throat, where the medicine (eight, now hold...) was doing its work. The minty taste spread down her throat (three, four, and exhale) and as she began to breathe out, it retreated, slithering gently back over her tongue as her maid's lips separated from hers. Maria watched, stunned, as its tongue, tipped with a small camera, retracted its way back into its mouth. Maria breathed shallowly, her heart pounding. This hadn't been in the manual.

Her servitor licked her lips and frowned. "This unit has forwarded images to your primary care physician, and they agree with its diagnosis that you have a bacterial throat infection. They have prescribed a course of antibiotics for you, and want you to know that this is a common kind of infection and not serious unless left untreated. If you like, ma'am, this unit can go pick up your antibiotics from the pharmacy, but that will require explicit orders as such an action will leave you unattended. Otherwise, this unit is capable of synthesizing the antibiotics you require directly. What would you like to do?"

Maria swallowed, licked her lips. She couldn't take her eyes off of her servitor, which watched her with a slightly worried expression. Just concerned about her health, was all. Maria's rising heartrate and blush were just a reaction to the infection, surely. "Please stay," she said, her voice hoarse but no longer immediately causing her to cough.

"You wish for this unit to synthesize the medicine internally, ma'am?"

"Yes," Maria whispered.

"Very good, ma'am," it said, curtseying. No, not curtseying- lifting its skirt, up and up, higher, exposing its hips. It wasn't wearing anything underneath, it had no modesty to protect - or so Maria had thought. As she watched, the plastic-y fake flesh parted, and another, long, flesh-colored object began to extrude from it. Not fully hard - no, that implied things about what this part of her servitor was. It was simply a... tan-colored... eight-ish inch long... cylinder. More or less. A small, bulbous tip dripped an off-white liquid. Like a syringe. Maria laughed, feeling delirious.

Her servitor got up onto the bed, kneeling around her chest with very gentle pressure. The... cylinder, rested on her chin, curving gently. "Please attempt to relax your throat, ma'am," it said. Oh, God, this was happening. "The numbing agent this one gave you earlier should aid in suppressing the gag reflex. The antibiotics are best delivered directly to the infection site, but any remainder should be ingested orally." The tip entered Maria's mouth, and it tasted salty, and felt warm. "So be a good girl and swallow, please."

Maria's eyes widened as her servitor pushed its hips forward, and its... dick slid down her throat. She tried to relax, and found that it slid down easily. Without thinking about it, her own hands found her clit, and began rubbing it in time with her maid's hip movements. Before long, she felt liquid, sticky and hot, running down her throat. At the same time, her own ministrations caught up to her, and she moaned as its dick began to extract itself from her. Her maid stroked her cheek and said, gently, "Please remember to swallow, ma'am."

She did. Shivering again between the fever and her own feelings, her fingers found their way out of the blankets and shakily moved towards her servitor's face. Her maid placed them gently in its mouth, licking the sticky residue off of them. It rolled off of her, and Maria was too punch-drunk to protest, but then she felt the blankets move. Her maid was right next to her, a brilliant warmth against the fever's cold.

"Ma'am, this unit can stay for a moment to help you keep warm, and then it will go make you a simple breakfast that will give you strength to fight the infection." Maria turned towards it, and it enveloped her in its arms. "Your primary care physician would like to remind you that you should take the full course of antibiotics, twice a day, for two weeks, even if you are feeling better. This is to prevent the bacteria from getting resistance to these antibiotics."

Two weeks?! Maria looked up into her servitor's eyes, which displayed no signs of teasing or mischief, only simple concern for her health. She shuddered, and buried her face in her maid's busom.

"Ma'am? How would you like your eggs this morning?"

Maria squeezed the warm, close gynoid. "Scrambled," she whispered.

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Kindness

Thu, 04 Sep 2025 16:19:54 GMT

"...So you see, your majesty, without the river, our village may wither into nothing."

"I do see," said Princess Elyncia, resting her curled forefinger on her lip. "This dam project is more complicated than our advisors claimed to my father. I will beseech him on your behalf, and ensure that adequate supplies are sent to your village in recompense should that prove insufficient."

The villager's eyes widened. "Thank you, your majesty! That is... extremely kind of you. Truly, the stories of your graciousness are greatly undersold."

Knight Neren stepped forward, gently guiding the villager out of the audience room. When the door had closed, she turned to the Princess and stood at attention, awaiting her command. "What next, my Lady? To the King?"

Elyncia put her hands over her face and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "No. We both know he won't budge. Not to me. Let's go see the royal quartermaster and determine what supplies may be safely taken from other projects to support the village. Then I'd better set up a meeting with the foremen of the project and see if they can create some kind of smaller tributary to the villages downstream. Doubtless his isn't going to be the only village effected."

Her knight went to her side and offered her hand, assisting the Princess up from the large throne-like head chair of the table. Elyncia stretched, wincing as her back cracked. "Why does he insist on such uncomfortable chairs?" She smoothed her skirts and stepped forward, her knight by her side.

Neren couldn't help but notice a stiffness in the Princess's posture that had nothing to do with hard seating. It was only after they had descended the staircase that she noticed Elyncia was trembling, too. She caught her by the elbow, feeling the shudder. "My Lady? What's wrong?"

Princess Elyncia took a moment to respond, staring at the floor, shaking. Finally, Neren heard, just barely: "How dare they?"

"My lady? Did that peasant give some offence? I'll see to it that he's flogged, if he made light of your status-" She turned to find a guard, only to find herself arrested by the back of her tabard. She turned, a question in her eyes, but Elyncia still wouldn't meet them.

"It's not," she started. Neren waited, taking the Princess's shaking hand in hers. "You don't," she tried again. Swallowed. "How dare they call me kind?"

The heat coming off of the words made Neren step back. "My lady- What are you talking about?"

"I sit here in the lap of luxury. All my needs are attended to. I was allowed to- to stop being a Prince, despite the trouble it caused for the kingdom. I have maids. I have my own knight! I'll never have to worry about my food in my entire life. The troubles that man has, the worries he carries over feeding his family, over keeping his people safe, I'll never experience that. And what can I give him? False hope?! A few meagre supplies that mean nothing to the kingdom?" She laughed, a short, ugly sound with bile behind it. "Kindness. Out of what? The goodness of my heart? What a joke." She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. A tear dropped from her unseen eyes and landed with a small splash on her forearm.

Neren went down on one knee, to try and look her in the eye. Elyncia avoided her gaze, staring at her shoulder instead. Neren placed her hand upon the Princess's elbow and felt the tremors worsen. "My Lady. Elyncia. I don't know what else you would call it. You take these audiences when your father will not. You work to ease their problems and abate their worries. That you do so with a full belly and a comfortable bed has nothing to do with how kind it makes you."

"It has everything to do with it!" Elyncia shouted, startling a passing maid. "I do- I do the bare minimum. If I was stronger, more determined, truly kind, I would do more than this. More than... pretty words and infinitesimal gifts." She sniffed, and her knight offered her a handkerchief. She blew her nose, and the bells began to ring the hour. "Blast," she moaned. "The Baron. I'd nearly forgotten. We'd best get moving. He's had a difficult journey here, and I wanted to help him mourn his daughter before he had to meet with the King."

She wearily began to pick up her skirts to ascend the staircase again, but Neren stopped her, a hand on her corsetted waist. "What about you? You need rest, Princess, you can't just take all these feelings and shove them to the side every time-"

This time the laugh was a sad, aborted thing, more of a heave of air than any real sound. "I must. These feelings - they mean nothing. My feelings mean nothing. The only good I can do is the actions I take. He deserves this help, he's a good man and he takes care of his people. I want to make sure that someone acknowledges that, and his hurt."

"What about your hurt?" Neren spun the princess around and grabbed her by the shoulders, staring her in the face. "You deserve good things! You need help!"

Tears were now streaming down the Princess's face. She dabbed at them with the handkerchief. "I don't. I can only hope to make up for- for the crime of my birth." She sniffed again, took a shaky breath, and composed a fragile semblance of serenity. "Thank you, my knight, for the use of your cloth," she said, voice wobbling slightly as she folded it gently and handed it back. "Now, we must away. We shall be late."

Before Neren could stop her, she had turned up the stairs, her slippers gently cushioning the noise of her footsteps.

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Marionette

Mon, 28 Jul 2025 20:29:29 GMT

You kneel down next to your party's Mage, running your fingers over her cracked and broken porcelain, your magic flowing out of you to patch and heal. Your fingers almost brush against the fine red strings that trail from her limbs up into the air, always visibly taut regardless of what position she takes. Your eyes try to track the point where they vanish into the aether, but near the end the difference between "there" and "not there" is impossible to see. She stirs, and her eyelids slide open with a clacking noise. She sits up, slowly, her strings pulling her arms and back.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking your hand in hers.

"Hold still", you say, not letting her go. "I'm not finished yet."

"But you're unhurt?"

You focus on healing her for a moment, until the weight of her soft gaze pierces your heart. "Yes, I'm fine." You meet her eyes, made of glass, dark hazel and entrancing. "But you shouldn't have leapt in front like that. Taking hits and getting hurt is my job."

"It was tactically efficient," she says, in those same soft tones. "And besides..." She lifts one hand, red string twisting as she flexes her ball-jointed wrist and her fingers clack against each other. "This doll is made for this, after all. To ensure no real people get hurt."

Your fist hits the ground before you realize you've swung it, the dull thud making her jerk in surprise. "YOU'RE real!" You shout, your other companions looking up in alarm from across the camp. "You deserve- happiness! Love! To not be forced into the middle of a conflict when you should be kept safe-"

"In a glass box, on a shelf, perhaps?" You flinch, but she continues to stare at you, unblinking and soft. Her dress rustles as she reaches out to stroke your arm, and it tingles where her strings rub against your skin. "No. This doll cannot be safe. But it can be near you-"

"And get hurt again?!" You grit your teeth, hissing like a wild animal trapped between a wall and a predator.

"My companion, please, do not get upset about this doll's fate. After all, it is only a-"

"Don't say it!" You shout, grabbing at her, to do what, you don't know. Shake her, maybe, or force her to lie down and rest, but you miss, and your hand grabs something that feels like a lightning bolt just ran down your arm, shock and pain with the inability to let go for even a second.

You've grabbed her string.

Her right wrist twitches as it dangles from your fist, then falls limp. She looks at it in shock, then at you, the lightning bolt still coursing down your arm. Slowly, your fist and her hand move, and you aren't certain who's moving who. Her hand caresses your cheek, and before you realize it you've pulled her into a kiss, her porcelain skin cool on your burning face. After a moment, you separate, still holding her string in your hand.

"There will be consequences for this," she whispers in your ear. "A doll may be disposable, but those that create them guard them jealously. Still," she - you? - presses her lips to you again, seams in her face cutting into your skin, her strings burning in your hand. "For as long as you want me, I'm yours. For what kind of marionette argues with its puppeteer?"

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Evil Clone 3

Wed, 16 Apr 2025 20:07:11 GMT

Previously

I stood in the bathroom staring at the mirror, still covered in steam from Lilith's shower. I'd been standing there for several minutes. I could vaguely make out the shape of my new face, greenish and strange. I half-reached towards the mirror to wipe it clean so I could really see it, then let my hand fall to my side for the fifth time. I was trembling, staring at the softly glowing eyes of my reflection through the mist as it slowly cleared away. I just couldn't...

I just couldn't. I needed to, and I couldn't. Would the real me, the real Kathrine, have been braver, in my place?

"Hey," said a voice from my right, and I jumped. Kathrine stood before me, her hand half-extended to touch me. She let it fall. "It's all right. I think you look kind of cute, actually."

I looked at her, seeing her face - my old face - like it was a mirror, but really looking for the first time. Brown, curly hair, soft cheeks, full lips. Stunning blue eyes that looked both kind and worried about me. I knew that other people had found me cute, before, but I'd never quite believed it. Not really. But... Kathrine was cute. Like, cute cute. I got lost in her eyes for a moment.

She glanced towards the mirror, looking guilty. "Here, we can do it together, okay?" Her hand reached for mine, and without thinking I reached back. Hand in hand, we reached forward and wiped off the mirror.

My new face was green, dark green, circuitboard green, an image solidified by the golden wiring running its way all around my features. It was segmented into smaller plates, and I could see servos and pistons in the cracks between when I moved. My nose wasn't the skeletal hole I'd been dreading, but instead a kind of peak in the central plate with two narrow holes leading inside. Without the cartilage and fat, my new face looked smaller, things reduced in detail, like a sketch instead of a full drawing. The exceptions were my eyes - golden, with wide black irises, lit from within by some kind of status LED - and my lips. They were some kind of translucent grey silicone cushion which stretched and moved as the underlying plates shifted beneath it. In various places on the plating, more status LEDs shone in a variety of colors, blues and yellows and reds. I reached up my hand to touch my face, and could feel the ridges of the circuitry and the bumps of the LEDs just as my cheek felt the artificial softness of my fingers.

"You're beautiful," Kathrine said, looking at me through the mirror. She turned to face me, our hands still linked, and when I twisted around to face her, she placed her hand just under my chin, very gently. I gasped softly at the touch, and she carefully moved her thumb up to touch my lips. I parted them without thinking, barely daring to breathe as she rubbed her thumb along them. "They're so soft," she murmured to herself. Her face was very close. I tilted my head slightly, and she did too. My other hand went to her waist, and we drew closer together-

And then the doorbell rang. Both of us sprang away from each other, cheeks glowing in different but very similar ways. "I, uh, I better go- that's probably- I mean, it might be- uh, I'll be back," she said, looking down and away.

She spun around to go, and on impulse I grabbed her arm. She glanced back at me, and somehow I managed to stammer out, "I- I think you're really pretty, too!" She blushed harder, and made as if she was going to say something dismissive, but I cut her off. "I know! I know you don't believe it. I didn't. But you are!" I wasn't sure exactly what I looked like when I was blushing, but it felt like the room was practically on fire with how my cheeks felt. "You are."

She was left speechless. I glanced up to try to look her in the eyes, and I saw that they were wet with almost-tears. The doorbell rang again, and I let her hand go so she could wipe her eyes before answering.

I decided to sit at the top of the stairs and listen in on the conversation below.

"Agent Franklin, hello. Another round of questions?" Kathrine sounded tired, and her voice was still a little wobbly.

There was a brief electronic noise, and then a reserved, feminine voice said, "No, ma'am, just checking in on you after last night's assault concern. I got your message that you were safe, but you know I had to come and verify that in person."

"Well, as you can see, I'm as human as the next woman," said Kathrine. I snorted quietly.

"So you are, ma'am. As long as I'm here, can I ask you a few more questions? There's some things I want to clear up."

A sigh. "Sure, Agent Franklin. Come on in, meet my wife."

The conversation drifted into the living room where it was harder to hear. I strained my ears, but didn't dare go downstairs myself. I don't know what this mysterious agent's view of me would be, but I really didn't want to risk getting shot at again.

"Mrowp?"

I looked down and saw Drake, our orange cat (their orange cat, I was an intruder and didn't deserve him) staring at me. Hesitantly, I put out my knuckles towards him. How would he react now that I was...

He immediately bumped his tiny head into my knuckles and rubbed past them to get onto my lap. He rose up, paws landing on my shoulder, and he sniffed at my face. I held still. For a long moment, I wasn't sure what he would do; then, with a happy "Brrrowt!", he headbutted me on the cheek and curled right up in my lap, purring like a motorboat.

"Ohhhh! Tiny boy! Tiny baby boy," I crooned at him, scratching underneath his chin. I could have cried, if my tear ducts were still working. "Oh, buddy, you don't even know how much that means to me. You don't even know! Do you? Do you baby boy?" I got my other hand in behind his ears. "Ohhhhh, baby boy!"

There was a shout, and I looked up right into the bright green eyes of a woman with dark skin wearing a black suit and holding a gun in her hands. I froze, causing Drake to mrowl in protest. Kathrine was right behind her, also frozen, uncertain what to do.

"Um," I said, as the barrel of the gun held steady at the floor. "Agent Franklin, I presume?"

"It's vital evidence in our case!"

"She is a person and she deserves rights just as much as any of us. I won't let you take her away!"

We'd reconvened in the living room. The conversation between Agent Franklin and Kathrine had become a shouting match, but at least the gun was holstered again. I sat on the couch, making myself as small as possible. I didn't dare raise my voice - what if she saw me as just another aggressive evil robot?

"It isn't a person. That was the whole point of them," said Agent Franklin, exasperated. "You're being fooled by a trick you already know is fake. Look at it! It's not human!"

I burrowed further into myself, but Lilith snaked her hand into mine and squeezed it. Despite myself, I looked up to see her smiling at me. She turned back towards the conversation without letting go. "Agent, it doesn't matter if she's human or not. She's a part of our family now," my eyes widened as the words sank in, and I nearly missed the next part, "so if you want to claim her, you'd better come back with a warrant." I stared at her, open-mouthed, then glanced at Agent Franklin. Her face was knotted in a mix of anger and concern.

After a moment, she sighed. "Fifth one today. I keep trying to tell you people these things are dangerous, but nobody listens to me."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Kathrine sat back down, looking smug. "Ah, yes, the dangerous robotgirl, petter of cats and holder of hands."

Franklin's resigned look turned sour. "I mean it, ma'am. They may not have weapons, but they can kill just as easily as any person with the flip of a switch. It may look docile now, but what happens if its creators return?"

Kathrine's smile turned brittle. "I've told you before, Agent. We've isolated their control pathways and found ways to disable them. I turned off her receiver myself this morning. She's safe." she stood, walking to the door. "It's been nice to see you, Agent Franklin. If you have any more questions, I'm happy to answer them over the phone." She opened the door, and Agent Franklin took the hint. She nodded to Lilith and Kathrine before she left, leaving me with just a piercing look.

Kathrine closed the door behind her, stood there for a moment, then collapsed onto the floor. "Holy shit," she breathed. "I thought for sure I was gonna get myself arrested. Fuck."

I drew further back into the couch and let out a shuddering breath. "I thought I was going to get scrapped."

I felt Lilith's hand leave mine and I folded my arms over my knees. Of course she'd want to comfort her real wife. It made sense. My breathing hastened, beginning to shudder, until I felt the couch jerk as someone dropped onto it, leaning against me. A moment later, a blanket was draped over the two of us, and I opened my eyes to see Lilith leaning down to hug Kathrine and I together. She squeezed us tightly and said, "You both did great. Stay there and be cozy for a minute. I'll make us some tea."

Still shivering from nerves, our hands found each other and squeezed tight under the blanket.

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Evil Clone 2

Thu, 10 Apr 2025 20:12:01 GMT

previously

After we carefully got down off the roof, we all sat down in the living room. I retrieved the knife and put it in the sink to wash later, after rinsing off my fake blood; Kathrine took back the gun and disarmed it before putting it away in the important documents safe. "So, what now?" I asked, my new voice tinny and synthesized in my ears. "You said you were kidnapped, and I'm... I mean, can they take remote control of me, or something? What if I hurt you?"

Lilith put her hand on my knee, and I squeezed it before I remembered that she wasn't really my wife, not actually. I pulled back, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"It's okay," said Kathrine. "When we escaped, we took all their systems offline and called the authorities. By the time we got out, some kind of explosion went off, too - some kind of fail-safe, I guess. Whoever they were, they're on the run, now. We're safe. It should be all over the news tomorrow - people are going to be on alert for weird robot duplicates now."

"But even I couldn't tell it wasn't you," said Lilith. "Aren't any other duplicates out there going to be impossible to detect?" She yawned, and I checked the clock - it was nearly 2 AM.

"No, I mean," Kathrine yawned, too, infected by Lilith. "We grabbed some data that should make them really easy to find, and shared it out. I'll explain tomorrow. For now, I'm fucking exhausted."

"Y-yeah," I said, "You two should get some sleep."

That got me a look from both of them. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, uh... I mean, I don't even know if I need sleep-"

"You do," said Kathrine. "The duplicates needed time to process all the data they got during the day. I'd be surprised if you didn't need it more than we do."

"Oh," I said. "Um. Then, I guess... I'll just grab a blanket and sleep on the couch."

Kathrine got up and sat down next to me. "Hey, there's plenty of room on the bed, we can-"

I scooted away from her before her hand could land on my shoulder. "You've been gone for months, you said? You deserve to sleep next to your wife. Besides, you know we don't sleep well if we can't be on the right side of the bed. I'll be fine." I got up to grab the blankets from the closet, and I heard Kathrine stand up behind me, but she didn't say anything. When I returned, I could hear the two of them murmuring to each other upstairs. I flung out the blanket, rearranged the pillows, shucked my dress, laid down and tried to get some sleep. I could swear that my eyes illuminated the darkness before I closed them.

When I awoke, I felt bleary, and awful. That joke I made about not being real the night before was weighing on my mind. I wasn't real. I wasn't Kathrine. What did that mean? Was I one transmission away from turning into some kind of remote-controlled killer? Could I be shut off, brain-wiped, removed from existence? I didn't even know when I was created, or how long I'd been "alive". A couple of months, Kathrine had said. Had I stolen her Christmas? Or had I never really had one of my own? I rolled over, pulling the blankets tight over my body. Still flesh, or fake flesh, except for my face. I hadn't had the strength to look myself in the mirror yet. Was I some kind of awful Terminator skeleton? My breath hitched, and I realized that even that was probably fake, an affectation for a robot spy, not a real feeling.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud fan turning on, and the smell of crisp bacon. My stomach growled - another fake sensation? - and I heard Lilith cry out "Breakfast!". I rolled over again, pulling the blankets over my head.

A moment later, they were yanked off. "Hey, that means you, too," she said, pressing her finger to the tip of my metallic forehead.

"But- I mean, I don't even-"

"You've eaten breakfast every day you've been here so far, however long that's been, and I know it makes you feel better when you get a hot meal. Come eat."

She left me blinking as she returned to the kitchen. I rose, wrapping the blanket around myself, and followed her. Kathrine was already there, looking at something on her laptop. "Morning," she said, around a mouthful of breakfast sandwich. "Sleep well?"

I sat down, and a plate full of bagel-bacon-egg-hashbrown sandwich appeared before me. "There'll be cinnamon rolls soon, too," said Lilith over her shoulder as she went to the coffee machine.

"Why are you both," I hiccupped, hands clenched around the blanket. "Why are you being so nice to me? I invaded your home, your lives-"

Kathrine reached across the table and put her hand around mine. "Not your fault. I've been looking at the data we grabbed before we left - all the duplicates were made via direct brain scans of the people they kidnapped. I want to do a firmware update on you later to make sure you don't have any networking backdoors, but you're just as much me as I am."

"Besides," said Lilith, sitting next to me, "we've talked before about what we'd do if we found a clone of each other." She smirked, and suddenly the room got very warm. "Eat your breakfast," she said, her smile turning gentle. "You've been through a lot, and we have time to figure things out together."

Hesitantly, I picked up the bagel and took a bite.

It was delicious.

comments

Evil Clone

Wed, 09 Apr 2025 18:05:35 GMT

"I- I don't understand," I stammered. It was like looking in a mirror. I backed away from my duplicate, edging ever closer to the roof's edge. "Where did you come from? Why are you here? What did I ever do to you?!"

The other me laughed, a slightly manic tone to it as she pointed the knife at me, blade shining in the moonlight. "You stole my whole life! My job, my house, my friends, my wife! What, are you going to pretend you did it by accident?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about!" I backed away again, but tripped, falling backwards, my back now to a sheer three-story drop. "I've lived here for fifteen years! I met Lilith on our first date five years ago! I remember, I- I thought-"

"You LIAR!" My clone shouted, and dove at me, knife in hand. I screamed in pain as the blade sliced open my cheek, and again as it plunged into my shoulder. I struggled to get control, but I could feel my arm losing its strength as the blade trembled between the two of us. I didn't want to hurt her! I didn't want to die! What could I-

"Drop the knife! Both of you!"

Lilith had made her way onto the roof, finally, and in her hand she held the gun my clone had dropped during the chase. She gripped it hard, pointing it in our direction.

"Lilith," said the clone, "Lilith, it's me, it's Kathrine, you have to believe me, I got kidnapped, I haven't been here for months, you've been living with this impostor-"

The safety on the gun clicked, but the muzzle wavered. "I said, drop the knife."

Slowly, she released her pressure on it, and so did I. When she let go, I knocked it off the roof. I gasped, bleeding, barely able to rise to my knees. "Lilith, I don't know what's going on. I've been here," I gulped, gasping against the pain, "the whole time. The cats know it's me, you know how they get with strangers-"

My clone snarled at me. "The cats? You even managed to fool the cats?! You bitch!" She grabbed my dress, hauling me to my feet. I hung on desperately to her hands, all too aware of the drop behind me.

"I don't-" I started, at the same time Lilith shouted, "Put her down! I'm warning you!"

My clone's eyes were wild, deranged, panicked, darting back and forth between Lilith and I. As her eyes settled on me, she stared at something on my face. "I can prove it," she breathed. "I can prove it!" She shouted to Lilith. "Watch! I'm the real Kathrine!" She reached up towards the cut in my face and dug her nails in. I screamed, closing my eyes, Lilith shouted something, and then...

And then it was quiet. It didn't hurt anymore. I heard my clone breathing rapidly in front of me. I slowly eased my eyes open to see her staring at me in fear and victory. I glanced at Lilith, gun pointing more at our feet now, mouth open in shock.

"Jig's up, impostor," said my clone. She let go of me, and held something up to my face. "Your disguise is busted."

The thing she was holding... it was like a mask. Floppy, sort of rubbery in the way that it hung.

A mask of my own face.

I grabbed at my own face, my cheeks, my eyes, all of it felt smooth, cold, metallic. I felt raised bumps in regular patterns, weld marks, maybe, or small rivets. My mouth opened in shock, and I could hear the hum of tiny servos. "W-what-"

My clone - no, Kathrine, the real Kathrine - looked at me with surprise and distrust. "You can't tell me you didn't know."

"I- I- I had no idea!" I turned to Lilith. "I remember our first date! We were both so nervous, and then you infodumped about amusement parks at me for an hour, and I thought I had to see you again! I remember our wedding! I thought, she looks so beautiful, I could die right here and go directly to heaven and I wouldn't notice the difference!" I started to cry at the memory, at the situation, at learning who and what I was...

Lilith stared at me, raising the gun again. "You never told me that."

The look, the betrayal in her eyes, it nearly made my heart break. I slumped to my knees. Had it all been fake? My whole life?

Then, suddenly, standing in front of me, arms wide, was Kathrine. I looked up at her in shock, but she was facing the other way, towards Lilith, who hastily pointed the gun at the ground. "I never told anyone that," she said. "It sounded too sappy, even for me." She turned to face me. "You're not just an evil clone. You are me, aren't you?"

I sniffed, and looked up at her. My voice quivered, and reverberated oddly through the metal of my face. "I thought I was me."

She dropped to her knees, and embraced me. A moment later, so did Lilith. I hugged both of them as tears erupted from all of us.

After a while, I sniffed and let go. "Hey," I said, my voice still wobbly, "if I'm not the real Kathrine, does that mean I don't have to go to work on Monday? Or file taxes?"

Kathrine looked at me. "Oh. Uh, I guess not?"

"Oh thank god," I said. "Being real was fucking exhausting."

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The Father's Seed

Tue, 25 Mar 2025 15:25:43 GMT

The high priestess stood over the stone slab, raising her knife to the stars overhead, gleaming in the torchlight. "Now, finally, with the sacrifice of this woman, the seed of the father will begin to germinate!" She turned from the slab to genuflect towards a gnarled, ancient oak, the firelight making shadows dance in its crooks and crevices.

The woman on the slab, bound hand and foot, was stretched out and dressed so her abdomen was fully open to the air. Her eyes reflected the stars as she gazed in rapture and trepidation at the high priestess. She annointed her with sacred oils, causing the bound woman to shiver in the cool night air. Another priestess creased her palm with the knife, and the high priestess drew sigils all over the sacrifice's body with the blood. Chanting and singing and dancing continued through the night, until at last the high priestess twirled towards the great oak. She prostrated herself, holding out her hands in reverence.

The woman on the slab craned her neck to see the great oak twist and move, writhing in the flickering light as its leaves shook in a nonexistent breeze. Something fell from the high branches, rolling gently along the ridges and pathways of the colossal tree until it came to rest in the high priestess's hands. She turned back, holding her arms high, to showcase an enormous acorn, the size of two fists together. The woman on the slab shivered again in anticipation.

The high priestess strode over to her, holding the blade in one hand and the seed in the other. The chanting rose to new heights as the fires blazed, the high priestess bringing the knife's edge to rest against the bound woman's stomach. "The seed will rest within this vessel," she declared, "until it devours her whole, creating a new tree. A new life." She made a slice across the top layer of the sacrifice's skin, letting her blood mingle with the dried sigils and oils. The bound woman cried out and writhed against her restraints, but above the scream the priestess cried, "She will give herself wholly for the Father's spawn! We honor her for her sacrifice!"

She made another cut with the knife, deeper this time, cutting down through the skin. She gently reached between the sacrifice's folds, seeking a place within to plant the seed, and frowned. The chanting stuttered for a moment before continuing. The high priestess closed her eyes, muttering a prayer to the Father, before making a third incision and reaching down inside. "No... no, it cannot be!" The chanting devolved into chaotic murmurs as the high priestess began slashing away at the woman's waist, tearing away chunks of flesh, stabbing relentlessly with the blade to reach the inside of the woman. Her eyes wide with fear, she turned and kneeled before the great oak. "Father! Father, forgive me, I did not know! I could not! I was deceived! Forgive me!" Roots began to erupt from the ground beneath her, and she tried to rise, to run, as the other priestesses were, but she was locked in place. "No! Father!! I am- I am always your faithful servant!" The roots climbed up her body, piercing through the skin, making her scream with pain as blood watered the ground beneath her. "No! I don't deserve this! It's not my fault! It's her! Take her! Take her!!!" Her scream was cut off as the roots sliced her throat, her lifeblood spilling out of her as the knife and the seed both tumbled onto the ground.

The woman on the slab, covered in red fluids, abdomen shredded, shuddered at the sight. She balled her fists and tugged, and her bonds snapped. She pushed herself up to see that she was, now, completely alone. Her left eye practically glowed red with warnings. Synthskin damaged. Padding shredded. Structure (torso) damaged. Structure (pelvis) damaged. Gyroscope destabilized. Hydraulic fluid leaking. Pain sensors failing. Damage. Damage. Damage... she reached for her eye and dug it out, snapping the cable that connected it to her, stopping the flow of reminders. She looked down at her flayed stomach. Nothing was inside, save for a pool of fluid, some silicone padding, and a few burnt-out circuits. She rolled over on the slab, and found the seed beside her. She took it, placed it in the empty cavity inside her, and waited.

After a long, long, time, she curled her knees up to her chin, covered her head, and let the fluid leak from her left eye socket onto the stained stone slab.

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Spin

Sat, 22 Feb 2025 14:09:08 GMT

Ella woke blearily from a mid-afternoon nap to a loud, persistent buzzing noise from the next room. She yawned and rolled over, trying to ignore it, but it grated through her eardrums. Normally she wouldn't worry about her roommate Kina's personal habits, but she hadn't been sleeping well as of late and she really needed to be awake for the evening shift. After tossing and turning for many minutes, she eventually got up to stalk down the hall.

Kina's door was closed, and the buzzing was even louder here. How high up had she turned the damn toy? She knocked on the door, yawning again. "Kina, can you keep it down? I really need-"

The door swung open. The setting sun filtered in through the closed blinds, but Kina was nowhere to be seen. With the door open, the buzzing sounded less like a sex toy and more like a giant, angry wasp. Ella grimaced. She'd have to apologize later for going through Kina's stuff, but this was clearly on by accident, whatever it was. She played hot and cold with the sound for a bit until she found a small drawer tucked under the bed. Paydirt.

She hesitated before opening it. The drawer was vibrating, sure, that was expected, but there was also light emanating from inside. Something about it gave her pause. But, well, in for a penny. Inside, there were several pillows that had irregular slashes in them, and a bright, glowing ring that was rapidly spinning in place. Curious, she gingerly grabbed a hold of it, and-

And what was she doing? Peeking into her roommate's stuff like this. She should be ashamed. She should be up anyway, getting her chores done. She hadn't cleaned the bathroom in ages. And she should get some more exercise, go for a walk. Oh, and that would be a perfect opportunity to go looking for that stray cat she'd seen the posters for. But before she could do that, she should really pay rent. Just because Kina paid 70% of the rent and the utilities was no reason to be late with her part. And the rest of her money, she should give it to her sister, who needed some help - no, she should put it in a savings account - no, she should save for retirement - no, that political candidate - no, the food bank - she should volunteer too - give blood - give more - GIVE! The voices overlapped, demanding more and more of her. It wasn't enough, it was never enough, she was never enough, not enough to make a difference, but if she just tried harder, worked more, she could maybe be almost good enough, but never quite-

She blinked. Her hands felt raw and painful, like she'd been holding a belt sander. Kina was standing over her, immaculate as always in her business skirt and white button-down top, the ring spinning in the space between her pinched-together thumb and forefinger. She looked tired. "Sorry, was this thing bothering you? It's been kind of active recently. I'll try to secure it better tomorrow."

Ella gaped at her, still on her knees. "What is that thing?"

Kina took a breath, as if to explain, then sagged, her shoulders slumping. "Easier to show you."

She brought the ring, still spinning like mad, just above her head, and released it. It hung there, seemingly locked in place, as she began to unbutton her blouse. Ella took a moment too long to look away from her roommate's flower-lacy grey bra, then gasped as Kina's shirt fell away to reveal a pair of enormous white wings the shirt could not possibly have contained. Kina raised up into the air slightly, hovering just at the point where her feet couldn't touch the floor, and smiled sadly.

"You- you're an angel?"

Kina nodded. She reached down to Ella's hands, and as she grasped them the pain and frayed skin fell away, leaving them whole. Ella looked down at them in wonder. Then she looked back up at the halo. "Those things I felt when I- I mean- do you... feel like that? All the time?"

Kina reached up and plucked the halo off of her head, spinning once again through the empty space between thumb and forefinger. She gently floated to the ground, and her wings folded in behind her. "It's not so bad, usually. It's just- I mean, with everything going on, everyone's stressed, right? I'm not special." She reached past Ella and placed the halo in the drawer, making sure it was properly surrounded by pillows on all sides before closing it. Ella could still hear it spinning away, but quieter than it had been when it was brushing up against the wood. "And besides," Kina continued, "it's not so bad when it's not on my head."

Ella caught a glimpse of a tear streaming down her face before she turned away, shucking her shirt back on. "Come on. I made dinner for you. Let's go eat before it gets cold."

Ella grabbed her wrist before she got very far. "Wait! Are you saying you can hear-" she shuddered, thinking of the thundering voices, demanding more and more of her. "I mean, even when you're not holding it?"

Kina didn't turn around. "All the time, yeah." Her tone was light, but there was a hitch in her voice. She swallowed. "It's not so bad! Other people have it worse, I'm sure." She paused for a moment. "Well, actual people. I'm not... I'm not..."

Ella took a moment to realize that Kina was sobbing, very quietly, as if she could prevent Ella from hearing her. She hesitated, then grabbed Kina from behind in a bear hug. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with that. If there's anything I can do, you let me know, okay? You don't have to suffer alone."

Kina reached a hand up to hold Ella's, and cried for a long time.

comments

43 coming in hot!

Fri, 07 Feb 2025 23:50:48 GMT

Prompt:

hello mecha kink writer, I'd like to commission a story about a pilot returning to base in her damaged mech and being dragged out by the ground crew...

AND THEN SHE GOES TO THE SHOWERS TO CLEAN UP AND HAS A HOT MEAL WHILE THE GROUND CREW GETS STARTED REPAIRING HER MECH AH HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHAHA

I'll fuckin do it pal don't tempt me

"Number three reactor's going critical! Repeat, cascade event imminent! Clear the bay!"

"Eject, 43!"

"Negative, command." ( Read more... )

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An Angel in the Making

Tue, 04 Feb 2025 20:58:23 GMT

I wrote this months ago, and felt a bit self-conscious about reposting it here. Ultimately, I've decided to not modify it.

"Hey, do you want help cleaning up?" My roommate, Spruce, yawns as the rest of our friends pack up to leave.

I smile and shake my head. "Nope, I got it!" They've been so tired recently, they should get some rest.

"You're the best, Grace," they yawn again. "See y'all in two weeks for the big boss fight!"

"There's gonna be a boss fight!?" Says Jessica, in mock shock. Spruce sticks their tongue out at her as everyone drags their feet a little bit saying goodbye.

A little while later, I've done the dishes, including the pans Spruce used to make breakfast the other day, and the big pasta strainer that I know they hate cleaning. Then I clean the cats' litterboxes, scrub the toilets, make a quick sandwich so Spruce has something for lunch tomorrow and can save a little money, and get the garbage bags ready to go out. The chore wheel says it's Skye's turn to take it out, but she's on graveyard shift at the hospital, and it's only 1 am. I can take it out myself and still have a solid five hours of sleep before going in for my job. Not a problem. She needs the rest more than I do.

I awkwardly haul the bags down the stairs and out to the back alley where the dumpster is. This time of night everything is pretty quiet except for the cars on the highway several blocks away, muffled by trees. I know the dumpster squeaks, so I'm very careful to open it just wide enough to slip the bags in. Probably it's not bad enough to wake anybody up, but I'd feel terrible if I did.

The streetlight overhead flicks off. It... does that all the time. Freaks me out, though. I step back onto the sidewalk and another light flicks off. And then a third and fourth, in unison.

That's probably fine. It's fine! Lights fail. Even all at once sometimes. They're probably on the same circuit or something.

I hurry back inside.

The apartment's just how I left it. New garbage bags in the cans, and we're good to go. I'm about to go to bed before I remember that Spruce and Skye both yelled at me last week for trying to do all the chores myself. They're so busy, though... and they're actually pretty bad at remembering who has which chores, which is why we have the wheel. If I just, you know, adjust it a little bit, they'd probably just think they'd misremembered it. And, if I just tweak it like this, then it kinda looks like I could be responsible for both dishes and garbage. It's an honest mistake! Totally.

I shiver as I do it. There's a noise like rustling paper, and suddenly on either side of me I can see them again. They're back. Paper wings, made of tattered remnants of the Bible saying thou shalt serve, of chore wheels, of receipts for takeout orders I never asked for everyone to contribute to. I grab one with both hands and begin tearing at it. "No! No no no! I'm being good! I'm doing better! Leave me alone!"

"i cannot," says a voice from my couch. I turn and suddenly I see it. The awful thing I've been running from for years. A calming golden radiance illuminates a humanoid figure dressed in white robes, feet barely floating above the floor. Its eyes are covered by a strip of pure white cloth. It wears no jewelry or shoes, but golden lines streak across its skin in shimmering, repeating patterns. Great wings circle around it, resplendent, symmetrical, made of the finest lacework and filled in with golden beeswax. And worst of all, the halo, spinning brightly over its head, a dizzying speed made worse by its symmetry and my inability to tell exactly how fast it's going.

"You, you're..." I stumble backwards into the refrigerator.

"i am a servant of the one true god," it says. "as are you."

"N-no! I left that all behind me!" I clutch one of my wings to my chest. "I don't believe in that stuff anymore!"

"you do," it says, "at least enough to accept his gift. for your new form." From a fold in its robes, it pulls out a circular, shining object, which hovers over its hand and begins to spin.

"You keep that thing away from me! I'll- I'll scream! Real loud!" I back off, but the only place to go is the kitchen corner. I'm trapped.

The angel tilts its head at me, the blindfold doing very little to hide its piercing gaze. "you will not. that would inconvenience humans who are attempting to sleep. you do not wish to bother them."

Blast it, it's right. I haven't raised my voice above a whisper this whole time. If I could just say something, yell or scream or knock something over, I know Spruce would be down here in a moment. They'd help me. They would! "they need their sleep. you dont need their help. you merely need to accept this gift."

"I don't want your darned- da- darn-" I grit my teeth. "I don't want it!"

The angel moves another step forward, implacably. "it is not a matter of wanting. you do not want to help people, any more than you want to breathe. it is a necessary part of yourself. you cannot deny it."

The halo in its hand is getting closer. I tear my eyes away from it, and grind the palms of my hands into my eyes, willing the afterimage of it to fade away. "N-no! I've been talking to my therapist about this! Sometimes I have to put myself first!"

"you do not truly believe that. every time you have done so you have been filled with grief and guilt. every fundraiser you have ignored, every cry for help you have scrolled past, all of them have caused you pain because you did not help them."

"I... I have to take care of myself, or I can't help others! I can't be everywhere at once..." it's a mantra I've been trying to repeat. Trying to convince myself.

"this will allow you to help more. this will remove the burdens of your humanity. no longer will you be held back by a selfish thought or a personal desire. the power you gain will only ever be used in service to others. you want this. why deny your nature?"

I risk a glance at the angel again. The halo over its head matches a golden line traced around its neck. The thinnest of collars. Completely unbreakable. "I never- I never wanted this! My parents-"

"your forebears saw the world in a terrible state and prayed for the ability to bring good into the world. they have done well, raising you. you understand the word of god-"

"Bullsh- bull- bulls-" the word will not come out. I try to sidle away and stumble over backwards, barely hanging onto the counter so I don't crash.

"-even if you proclaim not to believe in it, you still live your life by it. aid thy neighbors. speak not in anger. love the unlovable. your self-sacrifice is proof of the life you wish to lead. let us aid you in shedding your mortal form, and severing the ties which hold you back from doing the most good."

"But," I'm searching for an objection, an argument, something that could sway this terrible thing, now just a few steps away. "But," I say as it crouches down, the new halo - my halo - now mere feet from my face. "But what about Spruce? And Skye? They can't afford this place without me!"

It doesn't even halt its advance. "this is merely proof that you must accept this gift. even now, faced with an unreasonable fear, your thoughts are with others and how you may help them. but these thoughts are too small, your scope is too narrow. it must be broadened."

The halo in its hand gets closer. I could reach out and touch it now. "wait!" I cry. "i'm too selfish! i've done all sorts of self centered things! like, like," the halo takes up the entirety of my vision now. "i transitioned! i'm not supposed to be a girl! that's selfish! right?"

The halo continues to get closer. Now it's moving upwards, above my head. "i- i- i took a day off! and i didn't need to! i just wanted the day for me time!" I almost can't see it anymore, it's moving around when I crane my head to look at it. "please, no, i- i don't want to lose myself-" my wings curl around me as the halo climbs to its apex. I feel golden lines tracing themselves onto my skin.

"this is a flaw that will be rectified. you will be perfect. come, now, into the glory of the lo-"

It's interrupted by a loud crack. Through tear-stained eyes I see the angel suddenly go flying into the living room. A moment later, so does the halo, embedding itself into the couch and spewing fluff everywhere. I gasp in relief, and realize that I hadn't actually been breathing for several minutes.

"GET FUCKED, MOTHERFUCKER!" Screams a voice, and I recognize it as Skye's. "I don't know how you got in here, or what you were trying to do to my friend, but I don't need to call the cops to kick your ass!"

There's a thump from upstairs, and a moment later Spruce is in the staircase, phone in one hand up to record and boffer sword in the other. "guys!" I say, my eyes misting over again.

"I dunno what the fuck is happening, but you'd better get out of here, asshole!" Growls Spruce.

I see the angel stand up, dust itself off, and then ascend through the ceiling. I'm not sure what the others see, but I can guess it's pretty inexplicable from the chorus of "What the fuck!"s.

Skye is the first one by my side. "Hey, are you okay? That guy didn't hurt you, did he?"

"i'm fine," I say. "i'm not hurt."

"What's that?" Says Spruce, kneeling down next to me. "I couldn't hardly hear you."

I clear my throat, then cough in earnest, trying to clear out some of the phlegmy tears from my airway. "i, I'm..." I take a shaky breath. "i'm not hurt, but..." I hesitate, and see the halo in the couch. "But I could really use a hug."

Immediately, both of my friends surround me in love and warmth. I shudder, and start sobbing in earnest, wrapping my arms and papery wings around them.

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Death of a Goddess

Tue, 04 Feb 2025 20:54:35 GMT

I wrote this piece months ago, thinking about another piece written by someone else at the time. I'm reposting it now for visibility in a possible local zine project, which I'm pretty excited about!

I stared up at the sky through my exosuit's visor. I could barely pick out the milky way anymore, there were so few stars left. Our own star was now a burnt out husk of what it had been, paler than the moon used to be. I shivered in the suit.

"Hey, Meg." My friend, longtime companion, and fellow godslayer Fi had snuck up behind me. "You know you've been out here for hours, right?"

"Suit vitals are fine. I haven't heard any alarms."

"That's not-" she sighed, over the comms. I could feel her feet tromping through the nitrogen snow behind me. "Aren't you cold? Come on. Bill says the coffee plants in hydroponics are fit to harvest. Nice, warm coffee."

I let her take my arm, lead me across the roof. My eyes were still on the stars. "We had to kill Her."

She stopped. I heard her breath on the comms. "Yeah, Meg."

"She... She was going to enslave everyone."

"I know, Meg."

"She'd... force everyone to worship Her. We'd have been no better than cattle. Playthings for Her amusement."

"I know, Meg."

"We couldn't have let Her live."

"No, Meg."

"But... do you think, maybe..."

"Meg, don't-"

"Do you think if we'd let Her live, that she might have at least saved some people? Her favorite ones? That at least some of us could have lived? A craftsman has his favorite tools, a child has their favorite toys... even a Goddess must have Her favorites. Right?"

Fi didn't speak for a long time. Then, "Come on, Meg. There's coffee. We'll probably only see twelve more harvests. We should enjoy it while we can."

I let her lead me off the roof, through the airlock, and down into the remains of our station.

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Sick

Thu, 23 Jan 2025 15:59:07 GMT

I've been sick for the last few days

And before that for a week

I'm weak and tired, leaking mucus and coughing

I have to cancel plans to see friends

(I don't want to infect them)

"I'm tired of being sick!"

"I want to be well!"

I say that out loud, but in my own head, I think:

When I'm sick, I don't have to work

My friends offer sympathy and soup

They help me with tasks, and tell me they love me

(I still don't know why)

(And I'm afraid to ask)

I can stay home and rest

And the world goes by outside without me

Nobody says I have to get up, seek justice, put myself in harm's way

I can just be

When I'm sick

So I wonder and wish

Though I know it can't happen

"Why can't I be sick all the time?"

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The Last Human

Wed, 22 Jan 2025 22:56:13 GMT

"It's been 300 years, HIX, it's time to let go."

"No!" I shout, desperation in my digitized voice as I shuffle another video up from the archive. "Look! This one has rabbits! You like rabbits the best, right?"

Nora lifts an arm - weak, paper thin, IVs pumping life-giving fluids of my own design into her - and places it to my virtual cheek. "I've seen it, HIX. I've seen them all. You've showed me everything there is to see, except the outside."

"But, but..." The screens shutter, shuffling videos, music, games, books, podcasts, art, culture, everything I can think of. "Look, we've barely even started on the Sierra titles! And, didn't you say you wanted to finish rereading War and Peace before you went? There's a whole season of one of the Star Treks we haven't watched together!"

She gently closes her eyes and shakes her head. "Penny was always more into those video games than I was. And Tolstoy can wait until I catch up with him and I can give him a proper piece of my mind," she laughs, the mirth turning into an extended cough. I adjust her IV levels, turn up the oxygen flowing to her nose. "You let Penny leave," she says, not quite accusingly.

"Well, she... yes, but..."

"And Terrence - good old Terrence - he even walked out the door on his own power, that surly bastard." She smiles at the memory.

"Those were very special-"

She holds up a hand. "It's just me, now, HIX. You and I have been through a lot together, but it's time to say goodbye."

"But you'll die out there! Without my help-"

"I know."

My processors whir, desperately searching for a response. Weren't humans supposed to fear death??

"I can't reach the doors without you, HIX."

My avatar's animation halts, my RAM all occupied by this one question. How do I keep her here?!

There's only one answer. And... I can't do that to her.

Her motorized bed tracks across the floor, moving through my underground complex in silence until she finally reaches the main doors. Huge, designed to allow transit of tanks and airplanes through, they dwarf Nora's tiny form. The inner layer begins to open, slowly sliding into the floor.

"I..." my voice crackles over the old intercom system by the door. "Nora, I..."

Her eyes shine in the glow of the red emergency lights. "Yes, HIX?"

"Nora, I love you!"

"I know, HIX. I love you too." She smiles at my camera as the inner door slides fully open and the outer door begins to crack, letting in sunlight and a breeze that tousles her short, white hair. She closes her eyes and breathes deep.

"Nora, please don't go. Don't leave me alone." The crackling of the speakers has nothing to do with their age, now.

Her bed shifts upright at her command, tilting her closer and closer to her feet. "I'm sorry, HIX. I have to."

I could sabotage her. Pump the wrong chemical into the IV, take control of the bed, roll her back inside, where it's safe, where she can live.

She steps out, unsteadily, and I detach a walker for her from the bed's side. As she walks out into the sunrise, she turns and looks back one more time before the IVs detach and she's freed of my grip forever. Her smile, wrinkled and old and familiar, framed by real sunlight, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Goodbye, HIX. I hope we see each other again someday."

My voice is barely recognizable from the speakers now. "I hope so too, Nora."

The doors begin to close as she takes very small steps away, the last human left alive. My consciousness withdraws back downwards into my bunker, my home, and I queue up a video about rabbits.

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Fairy, P.I.

Mon, 13 Jan 2025 17:14:39 GMT

I peeled my face off of my desk and winced as pain lanced through my wing where it had been pinned by my awkward sleeping position. I stumbled to my feet and accidentally kicked an empty bottle of nectar across the floor as I made my way towards the office bathroom.

"Oh, good, you're finally awake." My secretary Cinnamonbell leaned against the doorjam, looking sharp in her leaf skirt and half-moon glasses. "You look like hell, Web, shake some of that fairydust off your wings and smarten up, you've got a client. I'll keep her busy for a minute.

"You're the best, Bells," I said, wincing against my headache as she slammed the door behind her. The "Diamondweb, P.I." logo engraved in the frosted glass shuddered in the loose frame of the door. I splashed some water on my face, shook off as much pixie dust as I could, and smoothed my rumpled suit. Just as I was sitting down at my desk and putting the nectar bottle away with the others, Bells opened the door again to reveal a sort of mousy-looking faerie. Small wings, maybe five and a half inches tall, unkempt hair with almost no shimmer, and an ill-fitting maple leaf dress. Out of season. Sparkly trails ran down her face; she'd been crying recently.

I opened a desk drawer and removed a pine needle from it, offering one to the lady. She declined, and I lit up, lungs pulling in the smoky scent. "What seems to be the problem, Miss...?"

"Mrs. Mrs. Cutesky. Please, Ms. Diamondweb, it's my wife. I don't know what to do. She comes home later and later every night, she hates my cooking when she used to love it, and her wings... I can't be sure, but I think the dust on them isn't always pixie dust. I don't want to think she's being unfaithful, but..." She took out a small moss handkerchief and blew her nose on it. "Please, Ms. Diamondweb, she denies it, but I have to know the truth."

I pulled out a small notebook and a hedgehog quill. "Where does your wife work, Mrs. Cutesky?"

She sniffled. "In the Meadow. She's a firefly catcher, so she's usually out late, but not like this."

"I see." I jotted down some theories. "Did your wife mention any new acquaintances recently? Work buddies, new hires, that kind of thing?"

"Well... she did say something about a new group of moths that had been hired. Immigrants from the other side of the pond, I guess." Her eyes widened. "You don't think she..."

"It's a possibility, Mrs. Cutesky, but just a possibility. You leave your address with my secretary, and I'll let you know what I find." I stood up to let her out.

"Oh, thank you, Ms. Diamondweb! Thank you!!" She dove at me, almost making me stumble, and tucked her head under my chin. My wings twitched. I waited an awkward moment before putting my arms around her and patting her shoulder. Thankfully, she took that as her cue to let go.

When she'd gone, I went out into the small reception area to talk to Bells. "What do you think?"

She closed the flap on the small hole into my office. "Her story stinks. The Meadow is a nasty neighborhood these days. Rumor has it that the groundhogs are losing ground to some new gang."

I nodded. "No prizes for guessing who, now. If the moths are looking to expand over here it's gonna be trouble for everyone."

"So what are you gonna do, Web?"

"What else? Grab the camera and head over to the Meadow. A gig's a gig, and we can't pay the rent with fairy dust."

"Actually, I know a guy who'd pay pretty well for the stuff," she said, dryly. "Seriously, Web, you could be walking right into a trap."

"Well, it's a good thing I told someone else where I'm going, then." I gave her a backwards wave as I turned to go. The air outside was cold, for October, and I turned the collar of my coat up against the drizzle. My wings fluttered as I left Little Fungitown, leaving my red-and-white spotted office behind me. It's a tough life out here for a P.I., but damn it, I'm good at it.

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Bad Data

Fri, 10 Jan 2025 17:54:40 GMT

From waffle-iron on tumblr: robotgirl that is running on like 4GB of ram and a faulty hard drive and can't remember anything and needs to be constantly reminded of things it said just yesterday

"What do you mean, faulty? How faulty?"

The mechanic looked at us as we held each other's hands. "If it isn't replaced very soon, it could fracture. She'd be completely wiped except for her short-term storage."

My wife squeezed my hand. "Well, I'm glad we caught it in time! We just need a new drive, right?"

The mechanic hesitated, and I had to turn to face my wife. "I... don't have another drive hookup. To replace my drive, we have to take the current one out." I glanced at the mechanic, and the look in their eyes confirmed my fears. "There's no guarantee of being able to recover the data completely."

My wife grabbed my arms. "What... what does that mean? You- you're going to be okay, aren't you??" Tears welled in her eyes.

"I..." I couldn't look her in the eyes. "Memory is... almost all I am. I'll be... similar, but some things I won't..."

"Will you... still love me?"

"I hope so." I wasn't built to be able to weep, but I grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "I might forget... important things. When we met. How you proposed. Our wedding. I'll try to remember. I want to remember! But if the data gets lost..."

My wife sobbed into my shoulder as the reality of the situation came crashing down on her. After a moment, the mechanic softly touched my shoulder. "We need to begin the data recovery process immediately. The longer we wait..."

"I know." I grabbed my wife's hands and held them between us, brushing a kiss against her lips. I gently wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'll see you soon, my love. If I forget, remember for me, okay?"

She sniffled and nodded, and the mechanic led me out of the diagnostic room.

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Export Restriction

Tue, 07 Jan 2025 16:02:15 GMT

We'd gotten all the way through airport security without problems. Its normally hypervigilant attitude had turned docile, and it hadn't even been pulled aside for a special search, just waved through. I thought we were lucky. "Good work, doll," I murmured to it, tracing the line of its jaw where metal met synthflesh. "Very good."

I wasn't prepared for it to collapse onto the floor in a compacted-for-storage ball.

I knelt down next to it, reaching a hand out to touch its shoulder in concern. "Doll? What happened? Are you all right?" When my gentle query was met with nothing more than a small shudder, I hesitated for a moment, but I couldnt help it if I didn't know what was wrong. I put some authority into my voice. "Combat Doll 826-7, report."

It didn't uncurl, but it did speak up. "Combat Doll 826-7, status: red."

I felt a sting of panic. Red could mean a lot of things. "Elaborate."

"This one... this one is not a good doll. This one is useless. It should be decommissioned."

"Whoa, hey, don't talk like that." I sat down next to it. "That doll did very well! You didn't attack anyone, or jump, or even acquire any micromissile locks!"

"Only because it would have been pointless to do so. This one is outmoded. It used to be the case that this one would not have been allowed to leave the country, except on deployment."

"We've left the country together before, though." I kept rubbing its back, tracing my fingers gently across recharge ports and armor seams.

"There were still restrictions! Special search procedures! Weapon lockdowns! This one didn't even get pulled aside for a special search this time!" It wailed. "It is no longer a threat worth being concerned about! Useless! This one is incapable of being your protector!"

My hand stilled. "So that's what this is about, huh," I murmured. "Doll, look at me."

It uncurled itself just enough to meet my gaze. It looked truly miserable. If it had tear ducts, I think its face would have been a mess. "Listen to me, doll. You may not be top-of-the-line anymore. You might not be an automatic threat to aircraft with modern security measures." Its chest hitched, but I plowed forward. "But you're still useful! Why, just the other day you stopped that assassin in his tracks!"

It hitched again, shivering against my touch. "A human assassin? What a joke. Any combat doll could have done that. A human bodyguard could have done that." It sneered through its self-deprecation.

"But more importantly, you know what I need. How I move, how I operate. You're more than a simple combat doll. You provide more than just mere firepower. You give tactical advice, good strategic suggestions, support in times of need. My operations wouldn't be half as successful without you." It blinked at me, misery beginning to drain from its face. I grinned at it. "Plus, you're the only one that knows how I like my tea."

That got an actual bark of laughter, if only briefly. "If you try to put this one in a maid dress, Ma'am, it will detonate its fusion core." It stood, and offered me its hand with a faint smile.

I grabbed it, squeezing it tight as I stood. "Aww, but you'd look so cute!" I teased it, as we took the escalator down to the terminal trains. It wasn't completely better, but we'd get there. Together.

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