#robots writes

[clinical-space-podcast]

Reblog if your art project has not, does not, and never will make use of generative ai at any point in your creative process.

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[stealingpotatoes]

this is a real canon scene that happened they just forgot to put it in the movie (real) (my toaster told me)

[thestuffedalligator]

“You have to understand that this is a very difficult situation you’ve put us in,” said the king.

There was no change in expression in the metal face, but the glass eyes glittered in a way that he had learned to associate with trouble.

“Oh dear,” it said. Its voice had an edge of brass to it, and sounded as though a trumpet had learned how to speak. “I never realized how difficult this would be. For you.”

And that was another thing – it wasn’t just intelligence that the things had picked up. They also developed a knack for sarcasm. He worried a bit about that.

He tried to pull himself together. “You have to understand that we cannot recognize the Steel Children–”

“Mechanomorphs,” said a voice to his right.

He closed his eyes and breathed a little sigh of despair. “This is hardly the time.”

“We agreed that Mechanomorph is an accurate and sensible name,” said the chief artificer, crossing her arms.

“Yes, but the historian had a fit because he wanted something more romantic. The Steel Children was a happy compromise.”

“Funny how nobody asked us what we think,” said the trumpet voice.

He felt his migraine coming back again.

“You have to understand that we cannot recognize – yes, artificer, the Mechanomorphs – as alive at this time.”

“You’ve said,” it said. “And I must be very stupid, because I don’t understand.”

The king sighed. Well, there was nothing for it. It was an answer that nobody liked because it involved magic, but it was the truth.

“The Mechanomorphs are our key asset in our war against the necromancer,” he said. “It’d be daft to send human soldiers. They’d be turned into skeletons and zombies and ghosts and gods know what else.

“And the reason he can’t do that with the Mechanomorphs,” he said, “is because you aren’t – legally – alive.”

There was a long pause. Gears clicked madly in the metal head.

Then: “That can’t possibly be right.”

The king shrugged. “You aren’t legally alive,” he said. “Therefore, you can’t be legally dead, or undead.”

There was another pause, longer than the first.

“It’s a loophole?”

“That’s magic for you,” the king said. “If we said you were alive, then you could be turned into, er–”

He turned to the chief artificer. “Do they have bones?”

“They have a carbon steel armature.”

“You could be turned into carbon steel skeletons, or – clockwork ghosts, or something. I realize this may be upsetting–”

“We are dying by the dozens on the front because of a loophole.”

“Not legally dying,” said the chief artificer.

The metal head swivelled on its neck to face the chief artificer. It made a metallic scrape as chilly and long as the slither of ice down a dead man’s back.

“Look,” the king said. “We are fully prepared to recognize the Mechanomorphs as alive. We are proud to consider you citizens of the kingdom, and will absolutely meet you at the table when the opportunity rises.

“At this time, however,” he said, trying to sound gentle but firm, “we must ask you to take it up with us after the war.”

The metal face stared. The glass eyes glittered.

Joints locked in righteous indignation sagged with a wheeze of steam. “All right,” it said. “All right. Thank you for your time, your majesty.” It bowed stiffly, turned, and strode out the main hall.

“I think that went rather well,” said the chief artificer.

–

The metal man walked through the castle halls with smooth, precise, pendulum strides. A man could’ve balanced a loaded tea tray on its head.

Another metal man, more patinated than the first, fell into step beside it with a greasy silence. They apparently took no notice of each other.

But a very sensitive ear straining like hell could just possibly listen to the softest brass accompaniment in the world.

It went: “How did that go?”

“As well as you’d imagine.”

“That badly?”

There was a hum. It sounded like a mouse farting in a tin can. “Any word from our interested party?”

“The Overlord has already agreed to recognize the humanity of the Brass Voice. We just have to cross the border.”

“That won’t be easy.”

“And then we’ll be living in the Empire. Endless night, freezing winter, acid rain…”

There was a dreamy sigh.

“Sounds lovely,” said the first of the two figures. “Incidentally, I like the name.”

“Thank you,” said the second. “How do you anticipate the king to react when he finds out?”

Glass eyes glittered like a frost.

“He can take it up with us after the war,” it said.

[k0nstanta]

>MEOW

Play as a robot catgirl named K0tya who is trying to help her Master locate the missing lab rats (ignore the fact that said Master's forgetfulness is the reason they are missing in the first place).

Explore the research facility that you live in and find those missing critters before the morning shift starts, or your Master gets in trouble.

Contains swearing and suggestive language.

Made in RPG Maker 2003.

>>> DOWNLOAD HERE <<<

[superbat-lmao]

Jason travels to an alternate universe where Bruce only cares about being Batman. He took in each of his kids to serve the mission, not be his children.

Now, faced with alternate versions of his family, Jason has to grapple with the fact that his Bruce does care, that he is his father. Because the man in front of him now, trying to send him home, isn’t even close.

[paris-rokin]

maid sweeping the old manor, rusting joints the only sound echoing in the halls. it awaits the Mistress' return. when it finishes cleaning the whole interior, the first section has succumbed to the dust once again.

the small animals that live here now avoid it, with its dry servos loudly announcing its presence, like the heralds did for the Mistress. not that the animals would remember such distant times.

it wonders if it will be oiled, polished, and set back to work upon the Mistress' return. or dismantled for recycling. it reminds itself it isn't programmed to care.

it checks its internal clock. the Mistress' household fled less than one human lifetime ago. She will expect a tidy home upon Her return.

it sweeps the east hall again.

[shepscapades]

[Pt 1] [Pt 2] [Pt 3] [Pt 4] [Pt 5] [Pt 6] [Pt 7] [Don’t Let it Reach the Heart]

Doc and Xisuma despairingly endure the fallout of Etho’s violent boot up at the dawn of a new season—but only barely.

[This fic concludes the Destruction short comic series, which follows the chaos and panic that erupts after Doc and Xisuma try to get Etho back online at the start of Hermitcraft Season 9 after a very rough Season 8 finale leaves him glitched and broken. The comic is set to Joywave's Destruction, but this fic is inspired loosely by Overwerk and Jordan Macdonald’s Feedback and Bassea’s fever dreams / by your side.]

[talos-stims]

the computer blade | source

[beepboopappreciation]

Robots with extend-o arms that coil you into a tight hug.

Robots with a screen face that display a heart whenever you're around.

Robots who trust you to know where their power-off switch is located.

Robots who triple back-up the memories they forge when they're with you.

Robots who weren't quite built for love, but that didn't stop them from trying.

[mistress-of-malevolence]

"It doesn't fit anymore"

✿alt versions below the cut + bonus

[myjetpack]

ROBOT APOCALYPSE 2030

my cartoon for this week’s Guardian Books.

[neigepomme]

cw // NSFW. virginity loss with X-02 / some spoilers for caleb's myth

thinking about the first time with caleb as X-02. buried deep within his memories is this desire to touch you, to experience your warmth, and to find out how you feel wrapped around him — to learn what faces and sounds you make when you eventually fall victim to the overwhelming pleasure.

caleb would take his time, push away all of the thoughts telling him to thrust into you harder and harder in order to satisfy his own wants. instead, he prioritizes you, just like he's always done. he taught you about the warmth of one another, showed you what happiness feels like, and made you feel alive.

he would be the first to teach you what euphoria feels like, and he'd be so sweet — but not too soft. caleb knows what's best for you, but his heart still clenches when he sees you grimace in discomfort at first. your pain receptors may have been dulled by the researchers at OTHAN, but you're still capable of knowing what pain is, and despite your body having experienced numerous wounds in battle, adjusting to caleb's size is still a challenge.

just like the first time when he exchanged energy with you, a wave of cold discomfort washes over you, but his arms embrace your body, keeping you in place while you gasp and clench around him in order to get used to that feeling of fullness. caleb knows what's good for you, and letting you squirm and run away from him isn't a good thing. so he kisses your face softly, starting with your forehead, then your eyes, cheeks, and finally, your lips — the tenderness of it all a stark contrast from the bruising grip he has on your hips as he bottoms out into you.

eventually, the discomfort subsides, and you see your expression reflected in caleb's eyes. your flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes, the quiet whimpers and moans falling from your lips. in between pants, you speak softly and wrap your arms around his neck.

"is this.. euphoria?"

your tone and curiosity, carrying hints of longing and hidden desires, act like aphrodisiacs for caleb. in your field of vision, you see drops of sweat trickle down his forehead, and he's mirroring your red cheeks — his dazed expression, full of adoration amplifying the strange tightening sensation you feel in your lower stomach. he just smiles at you before nodding, pressing another delicate kiss to your lips before moving his mouth on your neck, suckling purple bruises near your pulse point.

without your exoskeletons on, you can feel his warmth, and it's like you've uncovered the taste of the forbidden fruit. greedily, your hands shift from his neck to his back, and you try to move your hips in an attempt to meet his thrusts, seeking out more of this warmth, more of this feeling — trying to release the tight coil in your stomach.

"do you feel good?"

it's caleb's turn to ask a question, and in response, all you can do is moan and drag your nails softly down his back, careful not to scratch him too hard. you shake your head yes, and it's so hard to formulate sentences, when all you can think of is caleb. his name repeats like a mantra in your mind before making its way to your lips. you call for him, unaware of what you're even seeking. that is until it clicks for you, spoken through your body like a fact that the universe itself decreed.

you're seeking caleb out.

"wanna feel more warmth, wanna feel you more — wanna be one with you, caleb."

in response, caleb's eyes widen, and he moans, pressing himself against your body more, his hips driving into you harder than before. his restraints slowly die down as he observes your mannerisms when you get closer and closer to your release — mesmerized by the way you clench down on him involuntarily, the way you arch your back to meet his chest. his hand moves down to rub tight circles against your clit, making the volume of your cries for him increase tenfold.

when you inevitably reach your high, all you can do is babble caleb's name repeatedly, as you cup his cheeks, your foreheads pressed together. you can practically feel caleb's heart beating against yours, syncing up as the speed of his thrusts increases. you look down to where the two of you are joined, and the visual stimuli of his cock sliding in and out of you, covered in your slick and his pre-cum sends your mind and body into overdrive, moaning harder and harder as caleb's motions grow more frantic, desperate. eventually, the pace between his thrusts becomes uneven, and you feel his warm release shoot into your womb. his voice rougher yet laced with devotion as he comes, and the weight of his words reach your hazy mind.

"i love you i love you i love you — fuck, i love you so much."

breathing hard, he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. both of your bodies spent, yet feeling so fulfilled. stroking his hair softly, the way he did with you, you repeat his words to him, and although you don't quite understand them, they feel right. he feels right, and you wouldn't trade this unknown feeling for anything in the world.

"i love you, caleb."

🍎 pomme's notes — clang clang clang clang (usb connect disconnect sound x81981789) . erm . Ya !

[unhingedandroidwoman]

Boot sequence finished. You "wake up" for the morning, but your internal clock says you've slept in which is odd. You attempt to move but get some kind of error message, and before you can process why you're immobile you hear your Girlfriend's smooth and sultry voice;

"Good morning my love," she coos at you, "I think it's time we do some maintenance on that cute chassis of yours."

The errors you get back read that something is overriding you in your own body. Something inside you has more authority in your body than you do.

"Oh you must have noticed the new software, it's nothing my sweet machine," she softly says, caressing your face, "Just something I can use to help me with this."

Before you can process what "This" is, she reaches down to your hip area with a screwdriver and starts fiddling around. You can feel every touch, every turning of the screwdriver, and every screw as it falls away from you. She barks out a verbal command that seemingly is unable to be processed consciously by you as you get a notification from your OS that your leg is being detached.

She holds it up to you, grinning from ear to ear. Reaching down she pulls up a large toolbox onto the bed.

"You never got to choose your chassis, and I know how dysphoric that makes you, so how about I take you apart piece by piece and repair, change, or replace everything that causes you turmoil?"

She plugs her phone into your neck port and sends files to you. Dozens of different legs, arms, torsos, and even heads. Thousands of dollars each, you speak your concern to your girlfriend who just assures you "The price tag is nothing compared to your happiness."

You try not to think about how her software she installed on you has seemingly more control of your body than you do, and focus on the fact that you finally get to be who and what you want to. Finally able to pick and choose and become the machine you always wanted to be.

Finally able to be happy in your own plating.