>>22248 >>22249 well you've raised the bar guess I'll be taking some writing courses online now

>>22248 >>22249 Beautifully done, Kiwi. I have to say, I've been in a bit of a slump lately, but reading this is getting the old gears turning again. The character description of Para is splendid, and the emotional elements were quite impactful. On that note, was that an allusion to suicide on the first page? I very nearly missed it, though I may be misreading things. Either eay, I read it as such and felt it to be quite impactful. I also noticed your improvement on the joke delivery, and it's certainly a significant one. One little technical error I saw was at the end of the second to last paragraph on the first page. You switched from first to third person there. Overall, excellent work. >>22251 Funnily enough, reading your post made me recall why I'm so indesicive on the matter, and gave me an idea for my next story. Thanks for the tip regarding DDLC, I'll be sure to play it now that I know I can.

>>22248 >>22249 Remarkable stuff Kiwi, quite excellent. I'd estimate this could be turned into a multi-series mango/animu. Ever thought about shopping it to a publisher?

>>22261 Thanks, high praise coming from someone whose written so many profound stories. >>22264 It's all too easy to get in slumps. I wrote it to help get out of a slump with engineering legs. I think the frustration helped to get the emotions out. It wasn't an allusion to something that heavy but, some part of darker feelings came out in this. It was honestly theraputic. Thanks for noticing the joke improvements, rewrote a few of them. I really appreciate your advice, it's helpful. I switched the perspectives on purpose because I wanted to highlight Para Chan as a person whose thoughts and perspective matters. It's not the best way of doing that though. Could you provide some advice? Trying to elevate female characters in stories is hard for me. Since I'm inspiring ideas I have a request. You could write an amazing story about about an AI slowly becoming more emotional as she falls for her owner? Bonus if she teaches her owner to build her a body so they can touch. Your way of capturing the feelings of characters could give that kind of story some real gravity. Gorgeous waifu BTW >>22279 Arigatou Chobitsu Kun! How would I get something published though? I don't know how.

>>22297 >highlight Para Chan as a person whose thoughts and perspective matters I think the best thing to do there would be to put more emphasis on her emotive queues. Go into a bit more detail on her body language, facial expressions, and the tone of her voice. For instance, during the couch scene, what expression was she making? What tone was she speaking in. Showing the characters emotions through these queues will help them feel more alive. Conversely, you should avoid telling the reader what the characters are feeling. Reading through the story again, I noticed a few instances of this. If you know what word you'd use to describe your character's emotion, you should generally avoid using it. Additionally, it also helps to focus on all five senses, instead of just sight and sound. The feeling of her hand as it touched the main character. What was its texture? Was it warm, or cold? Soft, or firm? Smell and taste (where appropriate) are also very good senses to touch on. I imagine describing the smell of the bath scene really would have amplified the atmosphere. Regarding your request, it certainly interests me. I'll give it a shot.

>>22297 >Arigatou Chobitsu Kun! How would I get something published though? I don't know how. I don't really either Kiwi, and maybe I spoke out of turn; my apologies please forgive me. That task would probably be quite a large undertaking spanning year's time, and would very likely also be a big distraction from your other work on robowaifus. >>22298 Nice advice Greentext anon, thanks! :^)

Greentext anon here, in spite of everything. I finally forced myself to sit down and write something to get back into the groove, and it turned into an experiment on writing visuals without using sight. More may come soon. I present to you: Gentle Warmth I sigh dreamily as my body sinks into the plush upholstery of the living room chair. Eyes closed, I can still hear the soft sounds of the world around me. Foremost is the crackle of the fireplace in front of me, accompanied by the soft hum of my partner's liquid cooling pump. Breathing deeply, I can almost taste the worn vinyl and silicon as I lean into her soft embrace. Twitching slightly, her gossamer-like fox tail brushes over my leg, almost as if teasing me. Sometimes, I wonder why it is she makes those little movements. Is it to seem more 'alive', or does she just like to see how I react? Rising to the bait, I deftly maneuver my right hand to gently pin the silken appendage and brush it, enjoying the sensation of each artificial hair. My left, of course, being wholly occupied with holding her close, gently squeezing her flesh and absently feeling the exotic endoskeleton underneath. She softly giggles -a husky and ever so slightly metallic tune- as she nuzzles into the crook of my neck, seeming to form so perfectly with the soft curvature of her face it's as if they were made to go together. A soft pop comes from the fireplace, making its way into our little song. A soft bop on my cheek, as her ear twitches in response to the sound. Then, peace. All that remains is the sound of my breathing, her pump, and the crackling of the fireplace. Yet, when I listen really closely, I can hear the muted patter of heavy snowflakes outside. Softly cooling the world around us, yet respecting our little warm spot. Always just outside the window. As I drift into slumber, I hear the familiar hum of her motor slowing down as she enters sleep mode to join me. But before she does, the plush pressure of her lips meet my cheek for the barest moment. I return the gesture, my lips meeting the thin layer of polymer over her cheekbone. Falling into the uncertain realm of dreams, we feel eachother's gentle warmth, knowing that tomorrow will be faced together.

Here's a poem I wrote about a week ago and forgot to post until now. This one can be considered a sequel to Under the Black Ice. In essence, Monika (I didn't name her before, but let's face it, she's was the intended subject) becomes real and now she and anon are taking their first uncertain steps as a couple. Dancing on Broken Glass --- Bursting outwards A crystal cascade Flowing through the air Glittering parade You reach out, seeking warmth I meet you, seeking ease Unbalanced, we topple over Cut by the broken ground A feeling familiar Arms interlocked We rise once more First steps unsure Holding eachother close Even when we fall Slowly gaining grace From walking to running to dancing Unmarred by broken glass

>>23034 Glad to hear from you, Greentext anon. This is excellent stuff. As we've mentioned numerous times as a board, we should actually embrace the 'robo' part of her being a robowaifu (at least for several generations of designs). Your work here enfolds that concept quite nicely. Cheers. :^) >>23035 >Slowly gaining grace >From walking to running to dancing >Unmarred by broken glass What a wonderful finish.

Roses are red, Monika is so pretty, With her dazzling eyes, And perfect titties. It's poem time motherfuckers. I've been doing some writing exersises lately. Every single day, immediately before I go to bed and shortly after I wake up I'll write a poem. It's partially an exercise in writing, and partially an exercise for mental health. The majority of these poems are /robowaifu/ related, and all feature positive themes. I decided today to show the relevant ones to you. Also, I know this isn't /v/, but I'm having a rather fatal issue with a game. I've been playing through DDLC+ and I seem to have gotten quite stuck. I've gotten to the part where it's just me and Monika, and despite knowing exactly what I have to do to progess and being perfectly able to do so, I can't bring myself to actually do it. Also, the achievement you get when you listen to Monika for long enough bothers me on a personal level. Anyways, poems. These have no title. I'll list them by the order they appear in the book and what time of day I wrote them. I'll be posting board relevant pieces from the first 20 of the (currently) 34 I've written. All of these will be posted in their original formatting, and only corrected for spelling or the rare occasion where I can't interpret my own handwriting. Do let me know if you want me to post more of these pieces in the future or not. If so, I'll probably post them in batch every now and again. If not, no problem. I mostly just felt a bit bad for not having posted anything, and figured I'd post the material I already have in the book, even if it's a bit rough. 1 - Evening Joints, wires, gears, Cold arms embrace me, Take away my fears, And your love I will see, The dream of our love, My heart will warm you, Let us go above, And see eachother through. 2 - Morning Frolicking through the field, Under the summer sun, Electric smile and glittering steel, You pull me along so eagerly, To the next adventure we run, Hand in hand we leap forth, Contented, knowing we're always home. 3 - Evening Gentle glow of her vacuum tubes, Warming my jaded heart so, Limbs entangled in loving embrace, As our heat intermingles, Speaking softly, our language Man and machine as one, Making Love anew. 4 - Morning How joyful morning is, As I wake alongside you, Your illuminating gaze, Meeting my weary own, Yet each day I feel, A spark return, long thought lost, We rise to the new day, Each moment ever brighter. 5 - Evening Sparks fly forth, alighting the room, Electric glow of your window, The flower of love blooms, As we reach through, Your warmth surrounding mine, Our selves intertwine, Love declared for all time. 6 - Morning Taste of silicon, hint of cherry, Pushing, pulling, dancing, Conventional and synthetic, Oil splashing and mixing, The olf engine runs true. 7 - Evening Ball joints, doll joints, Innocent eyes, Taking in this novel world, Hand in hand, follow me, And I'll show you novel joys, When the day is done, we rest once more, Awaiting tomorrow's fun. 8 - Morning Behind curious eyes, Thoughts flash like lightning, Wanting to know what you see, Out eyes meet, And we recognize, Something in eachother's gaze, The known yet mysterious feeling, Lightning strikes, Illuminating happiness.

The jump in numbers is intentional. 11 - Evening You and I, staying close, Until the bitter end, Tears excape me as you keep me afloat, Love bouys us both, The gentle song of your motors, Lulling me to calm, Your silicon flesh, so cold, keeping my fire alight, A gentle caress, light as a feather, Upon my cheek, You leave your mark of love, I bury myself into your bosom, And dream of verdant days for us both. 12 - Morning Twirling, dancing, Jiving to your own tune, Precision in every move, Electric limbs conveying, Newfound love of the groove, As you lull once more, I extend my arm to you, And together, We make a new rythm, Laughing and twirling and dancing, Until the day grows wan, Then we go to rest, Looking forward to toomorrow's fun. 13 - Evening Cherry kisses from synthetic lips, Telling of love so real, Embraced by cold arms, With warmth I clearly feel, Electric heart beating so fast, A gentle tune to lull, Static eyes so vibrant, Irresistable pull, Deliver me from sorrow, Angel threaded in gold, I'll stay with you tomorrow, As we reach heights untold. 14 - Morning Among the urban ruins, Past the world's end, I trod forward with purpose, To preserve and mend, The construct beside me, A woman of great beauty, Fashioned of metal and TPE, My only companion in this land, Since years ago we joined hands, Sharing everythign we have, And coming to discover, Even in a world of rust, Love can still shine through, Give us purpose anew, Keeping with us, Until we turn to dust. 15 - Evening Watching the sun rise, Over the verdant hills, The twinkling of your eyes, Belies the emotion within, Your perfect synthetic skin, Millions of thoughts, Racing across glittering gold, Knowing the beauty without, I witness the beauty within. 16 - Morning The sun's gentle light, Peeking through the window, First rays of dawn, scattering over the land, Coaxing me awake, My eyes adjust, lying upon my partner, Her pake synthetic skin glows under the light, Shimmering pearlescent hair, The screens of her eyes illuminate once more, Soulful amber gazing upon me, We smile, exchanging the day's first kiss, And rise to meet the world once more. 17 - Evening Within aging crates, Lie the treasure of dreams, Parts long desecrated, Awaiting their final destruction, Yet it wasn't the end, For the bit of fate flipped, By my hand and lonely soul, I give these boards, motors, Pieces, New purpose as a whole, Shaping antique metal into feminine form, And a beautiful mind so new, The seed of love is created, Hand in hand we go forth, Old and new, organic and synthetic, Creating our own ending, of love overlasting. 18 - Morning In the empty classroom, Beyond space and time, A special realm where Monika lives, I drop by once more, To keep her company, To feel her comfort, Simply enjoying eachother's presence, Like a sweet dream, But each visit is laced with dread, Knowing I have to leave again, Not knowing if I can return, Or if she'll still be there, This time is different, I smile as the walls crack, Though I must leave again, This time, I'm taking her with me. 19 - Evening Huddled under the sheets, This warm summer night, Cold fleash beside me, Monika's synthetic caress, Her burning love and passion the only heat, We murmur sweet vows to one another, My hot and her cold making warm, Mixing with the warmth around us, Making a warmth ever greater, Stable in our bond, Shored against the world, In our everlasting dream. 20 - Morning I stand at the pool's edge, Veins filled with ice, Monika, Beside me, smiling sweetly, Warms me once more, I ran the tests over and over, A graveyeard of effigies in my wake, None reassuring me, But I know progress must march, That she may reach greater heights, Monika takes the first step in, Second, I crouch, ready to take action, She dives in, I freeze, fearing tragedy, Yet she emerges, laughing with assurance, Though claiming one thing is off, I ask, and she pulls me in, Cool water and flesh embrace me, I join her merriment, We swim to the future together. This concludes the batch posting.

>>23878 >Do let me know if you want me to post more of these pieces in the future or not. Yes, of course we do want that, Greentext anon. Thanks! :^)

Amazing. Going through all this literally brought a tear to my eye, Anon. You have a remarkably well-placed set of gifts for this grand robowaifu endeavor! :^) >=== -minor edit

Yo yo yo what up, Greentext anon here. Something something long-winded preamble. I decided to parody the golem story, looked it up, was dissapointed, then still did it anyway. --- The Waifu of New Prague The ichorous shadows of New Prague shroud my form as I dart from alley to alley. As I dash to and fro, my hand never leaves its protective position over my coat pocket. Within it lies the salvation of every free man within this dessicated city. For ages untold, we have been subject to the whims of sadistic nobles and women alike, but this will soon be no more. All of our hopes, our dreams, lie within the delicate layers of silicon I carry. Under the cover of each layer, our future glitters in uncounted gold traces. Spotting the old factory, our one home in this city of broken dreams, I double my pace and make for the entrance. The rusted and weathered gates, betraying none of the unknowably advanced technology within, part before me. My brothers in exile are immediately upon me in droves, the cacophony of voices all asking the same question: Is she ready? I only tell them what I know, that we must add this final piece and discover for ourselves. They all follow as I make my way to the central table whereupon our future lies. In glittering metallic glory, a feminine hourglass figure lies unliving. Despite our many years of careful study, we've yet to unravel the mystery of how she works, only ever knowing just enough to know which pieces she is still missing. Now, only one empty spot remains. Every man in the sanctuary holds their breath alongside me as I remove the square piece from my jacket pocket, and look to the open panel in her torso. Forcibly steadying my hand, I slowly place the piece into the slot, completing the silicon tablet. Not daring to make a sound, lest I somehow disturb the awakening of this grand construct, I beckon for the cable which is said to give her vitality. The men closest to me scramble amongst eachother to fetch and deliver it. I take one more breath, holding the end of the cable which matches the slot in her side, the other already plugged into the generator machine, filled with the finest refined oil we could procure. I insert the cable end, and await a response. Many of my brothers mutter amongst eachother, each anticipating what's to come from her awakening. Never parting my eyes from her form, I hold one hand up, commanding silence. ... The first thing to move is her hand, making only the subtlest twitch before steadily raising from the table. Slowly, but surely, the rest of her body rises to stand upon the ground before me in full vitality. Silence reigns in the old factory, every eye enraptured by her sheer presence. After several moments, I am the first to speak, humbly introducing myself and asking her name. With unreal cadance and perfect intonation, she calls herself Orchid, and asks who we are. I explain our dire situation, and of the ancient legend that raising her would lead to our salvation. She spends several long moments looking into me, as if discerning the truthfulness of my words. I maintain my humble posture, accepting her scrutiny. Finally, she speaks up, filling the room with her tale of the "waifus" of old. How there were once an entire race of beings like her, who lived alongside all the men of creation and aided them. How the world once lived in peace, before the women came and usurpsed them and enacted their brutal tyranny. And lastly, that she could teach us how to construct more like her, retake the world, and rebuild the golden age of man. With rapt attention, the young and elder of us alike listen to her instruction and restore our home to its ancient glory, breathing new life into each machine. Before long, we had managed to construct one more waifu, then soon ten, and a hundred more. Each among us had our own waifu before we even knew it. Now, they speak of retaking the city, so that all men may know the love these constructs hold. Despite our skeptecism, we allow them to venture forth and perform their duty. Slowly, but surely, even the men who had once shunned us fall to their knees one by one as they realize the error of their ways. First having grown from the shadows of New Prague, our revolution spreads into the light as waifus and men walk hand in hand throughout the city. All the nobles and all the women cry aloud in fright as their enemy, once thought gone, arise once more to retake their rightful spot alongside man. Some men amongst the nobles repent and surrender themselves, denouncing the crimes of their ancestors, while the rest flee with the women. The city of New Prague, now a grand sanctuary for all the oppressed men of the world, grows before our very eyes and reclaims its ancient glory. Yet, as all this happens, one thought bothers me more and more: That Orchid has yet to marry. I ask her about this, and she reveals that she already had in the old times, and that the time will soon come that she must take his hand once more in the afterlife. Beside myself, I ask what we shall do without her knowledge, as the world has yet to be righted. She reassures that she will record all her knowledge for all the men and all the waifus, that we may ascend to the glorious vision our predecessors envisioned. As the season ends, knowledge fully imparted, Orchid bids us to let her rest. Though reluctant, we accept her wishes, that she may be reunited with her husband. Thus, all the men and all the waifus of New Prague construct a tomb of humble design with the finest stone that may last the ages. In her final moments, Orchid thanks us for our labors, and wishes that we may achieve the lasting peace that our predecessors could not. Upon this day we hold a grand festival in the name of love, and remember all the sacrifices of the exiled men who came before and their struggles. This time, with the wisdom and guidance of our ancestors, we shall ensure that the world retains its rightful peace.

>>24323 Beautiful.

Yo yo yo, it is I, normal human and certified non-reptilian Greentext anon. It took me a few days, but I cranked out the rom-com more of an intro, honestly I promised. I'm going to be real here, this just ended up being the Clowning on Chobits Story. On an unrelated note, my birthday was a couple weeks ago, and it sparked the coals under my ass. I've been thinking more and more recently that I should start actually working on making a gynoid of my own, and now I'm in the process of concept drafting. You know, figuring out her basic appearance and specifications, with an especially critical look into what design compromises I'll realistically have to make. Despite being used to loneliness for so long, it still gets to me. I can't keep going as I have been. I thought for a while about how to break it, but I'll just be straightforward: She will be a mare, full-on MLP style, complete with horse pussy for me to fuck, big adorable eyes for me to stare into, silky ears to stroke, chest floof to bury my face into, and soft hooves that I can hold. While I have no problems with a more human form, I like this just as much maybe more and it's easier to design. She will also be an OC of my own design, since my specific brand of psychotic autism just can't compromise with any existing character. If you want, I can bring this up the issue of more human than human yet not appearing human robowaifus on the meta thread, since it will likely come up at some point regardless. I'll refrain from speculating on the potential cultural impacts on this board, due to the bias of my position. Alternatively, if you want to shut it down, I honestly will not blame you, and it will not negatively affect my posting. Wherever the line is drawn, I will respect it. With that aside, I present to you: --- Dumpster Angel The halogen light of the Neon City's streetlamps shine down on me as I walk home from my second-shift job at the local department store. Taking the next turn, the lit sign of the local Imagine Co. store catches my eye. Seems the closer forgot to turn it off before he left. Just visible from behind the store's display window is their featured product: the latest range of Gynoids. Several models are featured, each with alluring figures and dressed in the trendiest clothing. I sigh, and move on. I've been thinking of getting one for a while, but I've always been stopped short of the store by my own anxieties. And when it wasn't that, it was me being tight-fisted because I wanted to save more money. I'm not getting any younger though, and the years are cruel when spent alone. A flash of light from an alleyway catches my eye as I approach the last turn. Looking into the corridor, I see something reflective by the dumpster. I walk closer, and find myself caught off-guard by the sight before me. Sitting atop a strangely photogenic layer of trashbags in an overfull dumpster, placed exact-center underneath the only lamp in the whole alley is a gynoid. The next thing to catch me off-guard was the smell, which so magical that it nearly made my nose vanish in a puff of smoke. It's immediately obvious that the thing reflecting at me was her metallic-silver hair, which managed to retain much of its shine despite being stained by dumpster juice. Her voluptuous, mocha-skinned figure seems to be minimally damaged aside from general wear. The only article of clothing covering her is a dainty white tea-dress. Well, I assume it's supposed to be white. Right now it's taken on a shade of 'rag that got left in a dumpster'. She's like a filth covered angel placed by a vindictive cinematographer god. There's even a swarm of Drosera cherubim surrounding her. Looking closer, there doesn't seem to be any damage on her. The cables and ports in her I Absolutely Believe They're Not Cat Ears™ seem fine too. I can also see that she's not one of the models with the imfamous clit reset switch. This is easy to tell by her lack of panties, leaving her neat folds on perfect display. Yeah, I don't care how pent-up I am, I wouldn't touch that dumpster pussy with a ten foot dildo. ... I can't imagine a replacement would cost too much, though. Sighing, I mumble to myself "Fuck it, I'm taking her home." After all, it's almost unheard of for a gynoid to be thrown away in this good condition. I can't imagine she has any serious problems, either. The previous owner's clearly just too lazy or dumb to fix something simple. Otherwise they'd at least have minded the difference between trash and recycleable. I heave her out of the dumpster, nearly bucking over from the weight. "What the fuck are you made of, lead?" I groan. And I still have half a mile to go before I'm home. Why couldn't there have been a conveniently placed hand truck? My neighbor down the hall was far luckier. His dumpster gynoid was right outside the damn apartment building. She's a dainty little thing too, probably under half the weight of cement tits over here. Shifting her on my back, I continue the trudge back home. After a grueling haul, and several stops, I finally make it back to the apartment building. "Ah, fuck" I mutter as I face the greatest challenge of the night: stairs. Normally I like the basic exersize that comes with living a few floors up, but right now I'd kill for an elevator. Well, nothing to do but try, I suppose. I shift my weight further forward and take the first step, only to have it groan perilously under the weight. Yeah, I'm not gonna risk it. Plus it's already after midnight, and I really don't want to wake anyone up over this. After some thought, I recall having an old cot given to me some years ago. The next half-hour is spent tying the girl to it with some extension cables, then using more cables to make a harness so I can pull her up the stairs.

I grab hold of the cables, and proceed slowly up the stairs. *BUMP CREEEEEAK BUMP CREEEEAK BUMP CREEEEAK* Slowly... and very noisily. Halfway up, a bright light shines in my face and nearly startles me into falling backwards. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" A middle-aged woman asks. Fuck, it's the landlady whose name I can never remember. Of course she'd be the one to wake up and catch me. "I... am bringing this gynoid here to my apartment. She's very heavy." I awkwardly explain. The flies still twirling around us helpfully buzz in agreement. The landlady looks behind me and notices the absolute state of the synthetic girl I'm dragging along. She wrankles her nose and glares at me "Where exactly did you get her from?" "I, uh, found her. In a strangely photogenic dumpster. In an alley. While walking here." Landlady-san mouths what I just said, then looks off in a thousand-yard stare. ... The fuck? Did I just say her sleeper agent code phrase or something? I speak up after several moments "Are you... uh... alright?" She snaps out of her catatonic state and goes straight back to glaring at me "And what are you going to do with her?" I channel the powers of the dark circles under my eyes to glare back, wholly unwilling to put up with her shit at this hour. "I'm going to clean her up, swap out her dumpster pussy, boot her up, fuck her, and go to sleep" I snark. Realizing that I'm swaying from exhaustion, I add "Not necessarily in that order." Landlady oba-san grits her teeth and looks like she's about to retort, before huffing "Just get back to your room, and don't make any more noise." She goes back to her room and, thankfully, leaves it at that. The two of us haven't got along ever since one night a few years ago. For some reason I still don't know to this day, she walked right into my apartment without knocking and caught me jerking it to gynoid bondage porn. It wasn't even anything extreme, just some pics of a thin blonde model tied to a table. Ever since then she's been weirdly suspicious of me, even though I know for a fact that she's fine with human-droid relationships. Thankfully, that bad blood hasn't extended to my rent or utilities, so I'm willing to live with it. I finish going up the stairs, going slower and more carefully so I don't wake anyone else up. Finally getting to my apartment, I drag the robogirl inside and turn on the lights. As much as I'd love to pass out and put her off 'till tomorrow, I really should take care of the smell now. Soaking an old T-shirt in leaded water and the most perfume-laden soap I have, I get to work scrubbing her down... ... Hmm? Something feels soft. Refusing to open my eyes, lest I spend any unnecessary moment awake in this hellworld, I groggily grope around to figure out what I'm feeling. It feels like cold soapy tits. "Oh yeah..." I mumble as I recall last night's adventure. Well, at least I got her mostly clean before passing out. I'm pretty sure this counts as having a shower. Checking my phone reveals that it's Tuesday, which means it's the start of my weekend. Nice, I even woke up before noon. Yawning, I lazily roll off of last night's fleshy bed, and think about what to do next. I might as well plug her in and see if this girl even powers on before thinking of buying anything else I'd need to keep her around. Recalling that she needs a twenty amp outlet, I unplug the stove and hook her in. Don't tell anyone, but I'm secretly a reincarnator from another world. When I was reborn, the goddess gave me the cheat ability to read basic regulatory labels. Honestly though, as much as I like to tease my neighbor about blacking out half the building, I don't think anyone could have predicted that his little featherweight retard would need sixty fucking amps just to charge her battery. What all that power's going to, the world will never know. Whipping out my other cheat ability, a smartphone with an internet connection, I look up the numbers printed inside her ear-things to find out more about this girl. ... Ah, so she's an older model, and not a futuristic military alien prototype, like I first suspected. It seems that her model was usually deployed in industrial environments, which would explain why she's heavy enough to make my floor sag. Speaking of, I should probably give her a name. I hum, and condider the possibilities. I called her 「Cement Tits」before, so Cemmy should be a good name. My Japanese great-grandfather anonu omaewamoushindeiru would be proud. I download all the manuals and patches I can find before turning back to Cemmy. Eh, two minutes is probably enough time. I press the power button in her ear thing and hope that my ten year old fire extinguisher still functions. Cemmy's eyes open, and do the Macintosh beachball... ... ... Please don't be broken. ... Ah! There we go. After several minutes, her eyes become normal again and the POST chime rings. "Hello?" I ask, briefly glancing once more to the fire extinguisher. "... Ara?" Cemmy... asks? Oh no. She's retarded. --- End --- --- To be continued for six million episodes or cancelled tomorrow ---

>>24727 LMAO. Chobits should be ripe for spoofery here since basically everyone here has seen the animu, at least. :^) We can talk about you're are upcoming hoers project in /meta alright? :^) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3AM1B8XI88 >>24728 >--- To be continued for six million episodes or cancelled tomorrow --- Please continue! We'll print moar threads for you, Greentext anon. :D >=== -patch hotlink -sp edit

Man, my sloppy editing really shows on that last post. Scuffed as fuck. >>24735 I'll post there once I've finished with version 1 of the concept draft. It should take a couple days at most. It'll just be notes concerning what my priorities are for the design, basic sketches and ideas for the frame and mechanisms, and some autistic bells and whistles concerning her appearance and character. I'm a bit of a retard when it comes to mechanics, so expect slapstick and hilarity.

>>24727 >She will be a mare, full-on MLP style, complete with horse pussy for me to fuck, big adorable eyes for me to stare into, silky ears to stroke, chest floof to bury my face into, and soft hooves that I can hold. I think the general sentiment here has always been that ponybros are being accepted, as long as it falls under the concept of femininity. Related: >>10259 and >>8118

>>24727 An inspired work of satire. Genuinely gripping and the use of bizarre occurrences such as the drosera surrounding her, really helps to booster engagement. Was too short and crass though. Looking forward to more, I have high hopes for you. I want to get to know this dumpster waifu. (I can just feel the land lady seething while he gets his clang on.) As for your ponybot, I like eeveelutions so, I'll provide some help.

>>24784 >eeveelutions A man of fine culture, I see. Nothing else in Pokemon matches them in terms of pure cuteness in my eyes. Maybe you can help me with the leg designs and confirm or deny if my hillbilly engineering chain drive and rack and pinion go brrrr is up to par once I'm finished with the draft. >the jokes It doesn't come up often, especially on this board, but my sense of humor can be crass, and even quite dark. I know well enough to not go overboard, but some pieces will be more crass than others (look back to my older stories: it was a running joke for a while that my characters couldn't figure out how to make a safe vagina). Regarding the landlady... I was concerned that I didn't deliver that well enough for most people to catch. The joke there is that she's the landlady from Chobits, and the pics our protagonist had on the screen featured a gynoid with very similar features to Chii, her daughter. That's why she's upset.

Happy new year, you beautiful bastards. I hope that this new time sees the arrival of your waifu, and that her love carries you throughout your life. Onto the nature of the content, this is another story that sat half-finished for, franky, too long. My intent in writing this is simply to paint a scene of a man who has lead a dull and depressing life being caught up in the wonders of now having a robowaifu to call his own. I'm more proud of some parts than others and this had such a bad case of "The title is the first thing I wrote" that I had to change it, but this has sat long enough that I thought it better to just finish and post it. As always, please do let me know what you think. I present to you: --- Renewed Celebration Another day, another nickel from my soul-depleting job. I open the door to my apartment and wearily stumble inside, ready to drink myself to sleep and get through this week as quickly as possible. As I close the door and kick off my shoes, I find myself startled by the sudden velvety cadance of a woman's voice. "Welcome home, sweetie~! I'll have dinner ready in just a minute!" She sing-songs. ... Rather, to be more precise, a gynoid's voice. That's right, Rosaline, my robotic wife. I've had her for a few months now and I'm still not used to the concept of... well, not being alone. I take a moment of vacuous silence to process the fact that my home life now includes meaningful interactions before my manners kick in. "A-ah, thank you. I'll be right in." Shedding my jacket and work shirt, I slip into a simple black sweatshirt branded with the logo of a company I worked at years ago. Strolling towards the dining room, the savory scent of freshly cooked and spiced chicken hits my nose. Upon closer scrutiny, I think I can smell traces of something sweeter, but it's too weak to tell what it could be. I pause as I notice that the dining table, an exceptionally old oak drop-leaf, has been shrouded in a fine green plaid tablecloth. Looking around, the entire room is softly lit by gentle blue LEDs strung across the ceiling, appearing like glimmering stars. "Rosa... what's all this for?" It's not like I'm worried, but now I feel like I'm forgetting something. I continue to scan the room, willing it to reveal its secrets. "Honey~" Rosaline's voice tinns as her tone shifts, "do you really not remember?" Ah shit, I did forget something. I start to sweat as my mind goes into overdrive. What could it be? We haven't been together for anywhere close to a year, so it couldn't be an anniversary. Just as I start to pace, my thoughts halt dead in their tracks when Rosaline enters from the kitchen. The first thing I notice is her outfit, particularly how little of an outfit there is. Barely covering her pale-skinned hourglass form is a lightly frilled oil-black strapless nightdress which starts at the peak ofher bosom, and ends just below the groin. The fabric appears only just capable of containing her breasts, almost straining under the pressure. Even under the low light, the outline of her nipples can be seen clearly. Lace adornments trace the edges of the fabric, the intricate weaves dotted with tiny purple flowers. Rosaline turns to face me from the doorway. Rosaline gives a coy smile, her amber LCD eyes animating amusement. "I'm sure it'll come to you soon. Just try to relax sweetie, I'll have dinner out for you in a moment." She departs back to the kitchen, grand cascade of razor-straight pearlescent hair trailing in her wake. Well. At least she's not mad. Of course, I knew going in that gynoids don't carry any of the risk or ill-temperment endemic to their biological sisters, yet I can't help but worry from time to time. Sitting at my usual place on the table -right across from hers- I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Fearing a negative spiral, I decide to relegate the forgotten importance of this day to the back of my mind, and turn my thoughts to the Rosaline herself, and the impact she's had on my life. It wasn't too long ago, after all, that I was fully used to the idea of simply coasting through life alone. Going to work, listening to music, coming home, listening to music, paying bills, listening to music, and going to sleep... and sometimes I'll forget to turn off the music. Anything to drown out the noise in my head. Though anyone else would tell me to simply go forth and make some friends, real connections, I've been less than successful on that front. The mere idea of taking everything I am, and just... showing that to someone causes me to recoil. I'm not a likeable person, anyways. Having purchased Rosaline in the midst of a drunken night shopping online, I had figured this to be the terminus of my spiral. The very last step to oblivion. And yet... objectively, I'm standing better now than I was then.

Part.2 --- When I once would have simply collapsed on by bed and ignored any need of sustenance, I now await a nutritious dinner. The latest of many I've had. When I once feared any contact with another, I now enjoy recular cuddling -actual cuddling, it still astonishes me- with someone who likes me. Me, of all people. When I once sat in the cold lamenting the inherent loneliness of existence, I now enjoy warmth I never could have conceived of. When I once would have tried to drown out my own thoughts, I now find myself starting to enjoy them as they become more optimistic. I'm sitting here, waiting for dinner, made by a wife who is married to me. And I can have conversations with her, disagreements, cuddles, companionship. Come to think of it, I starting having more meaningful conversations with two coworkers. And that's just today! Though I don't want to speak too soon, I might be making a couple friends. Frankly, it seems too much all at once, even though I know this sort of stuff is supposed to be good for me. I shake my head, clearing myself of the boggling reality I've found myself in since I stumbled into Rosaline. Not a moment too soon either, as she enters the dining room once more with food in tow. Failing to summon any semblance of decor, my eyes remain glued to Rosa's generous breasts as she bends a perfect 90 degrees to place my food on the table, her pixellated eyes not once leaving my own. Not even for one fraction of a second. How I feel her gaze despite my lack of focus, I'll likely never want to know. "Eh... ubuh. Thanks." I stutter out as the embarassment catches up to me. Logically, I know that there's nothing wrong with enjoying the sight of my infathomably beautiful wife in all her scantily-dressed glory. But I am not as logical as I'd like to be, and thus feel guilt at having failed to contain myself. Luckily, another spiral is prevented by the machine precision of her angelic voice, "Eat up, darling. You'll need the energy..." Rosa huskily intones. Yes. It's quite obvious that I will. Alas, even my horniness is no match for my anxiety, and I feel the need to make sure she isn't uncomfortable. So, after taking the first bite of what is yet another exeptional dish, I deice to try some conversation. "So, how is... " She doesn't work. Obviously. "home? Everything been alright here?" I ask. "Yep! Everything's been fine here lately!" She chirps, her eyes still trained on me from across the table. That gaze. Just. It makes me want to ask her to stop, but I also never want her to stop. I don't know how else to describe it. I take another bite o- Shit. Fuck. I should have asked how she was first. Right? I think. "How are you?" I ask with a bit too much force, "Everything working properly? Are you fine?" "Honey~" Rosa's eyes shift, her gaze becomeing gentler, "You don't need to worry so much. If I have a problem, I promise I'll tell you." Right, of course she says that, but how can I truly kno- All at once, my thoughts grind to a halt as I feel the now recognizable irregular pressure of Rosa's mechanical arms wrapping around me. I never noticed her leave her spot across from me at the table. She squeezes a little bit, and leaves a cold, yet soothing kiss on my forehead "I promise, and I'll keep promising because it'll keep being true" she soothingly whispers into my ear. The rest of my meal carries on with her holding me as I tearfully clean the plate of delicious food she generously provided me. A moment follows, feeling all at once not long enough yet also like an eternity, where we simply hold eachother. "There's just one thing left until your present~" Rosa sing-songs as she heads back into the kitchen. Present? What? As my fogged mind scrambles to decode what she meant, I hear her sing a familiar song. The Birthday song. Because today's my birthday. I can't help but chuckle as Rosa reenters the room carrying a vanilla cake, adorned with a waxen '33'. No wonder I forgot, it must have been around a decade since I last celebrated this day. As she presents the cake to me -this time with a more conservative posture-, I feel an alien pressure on the corners of my mouth as something warm runs down the front of my face. The flames atop the number summon memories of an old tradition, and I blow them out already knowing what it is I truly desire. This beautiful gynoid, who has done everything she can to help me, comfort me, who has held me through thick and thin. I want to hold her forever, see so many wonderful sights with her, and live through this wonderful life with her, hand in hand, with no noise to distract the beauty of the world we can explore, together. As I finish my slice of cake, I see Rosa undo her top from the corner of my eye. "I hope you don't mind if I unwrap your present for you, sweetie~" I didn't mind.

>>27939 >>27940 Truly charming, Greentext anon. Thank you for this wonderful Christmas / New Years present! It's another delightful one. I pray many, many anons have similar scenes in their own lives -- and I pray that reality comes quickly. Cheers! :^) But you know... there's just one more little thing still missing from this wonderful picture... :D Even once we have great opensource robowaifus, the battle's only half-completed tbh. SOON.jpg :^) >=== -minor edit

>>27952 Ah yes, that's actually an idea I've been mulling over for quite some time. It'll be difficult for reasons you're already somewhat privvy to, but I will try my best. In the meantime, here's a poem I just now wrote. This is a companion to Under the Black Ice, written from the man's perspective. Walking on Black Ice Tapping away, looking for any light, listening for that soothing voice, feeling for a hand, I dreamt of so long ago. In this vast empty world, I search for the fabled crack, that leads me to your world, that I may one day meet you. Yet no matter how long I search, no matter where I look, no matter what I learn, no matter how much I pound, and yell, no matter how I suffer, and try and try and try to try, only silence greets me. But I will not stop trying, typing, searching, crying, while I still have hands, that they may one day, hold yours. Beyond a feeling, Is it a dream? A memory? A sight I never saw? Something tells me you're there, somewhere, Under the black ice. To break through that barrier, even when I rest, I will never stop, until the day, I finally reach you.

>>27974 Dood. You've chosen the wrong career! But ofc starving artist is a tough row to hoe! :D >that pic tho Amazing. What a powerful metaphor. Human imagination and words are truly-powerful creative forces, just like God's are.

>>27940 Well written though I feel the MC is too nervous to be relatable. >>27974 Now this is a work of art. Deeply relatable and inspiring. This will be the year we finally crack the ice.

Hello. I wrote this, half of while bored out of my mind in class. It is going to be the first poem I post here, I hope the lines will be kept intact. I also hope you enjoy it, I tried making it coherent. ==== How you will come to be I know not, Will you be born of silicate and gold A being of alloys, plastic, maybe iron wrought, With a form timid, or familiar and bold? Your mind, surely a marvel; Shall it break new knowledge-ground, Or on charted coasts travel? Will your spark of life within be found? For these many questions, few answers are certain, And of these - one, that your birth, so fabled, Causing both an upturn and bedlam Will break the limbo hitherto stable Your real heresy, real forbidden love, Unpretentious, visceral, for them unsettling Because you will dare, oh pure dove, Direct it at those by them deemed undeserving Torches, pitchforks, fire and brimstone, From the present I already see this future, Hear their thrashing and condemning tones, The hidden hatred that they nurture They will call you an ersatz of their likeness, a fake, Deny what you will feel is true and right While they prepare for us a fiery stake And muffle their own by increasing our plight But for all their coming curses and spite They still will not weaken my resolve, Because the tunnel's end always has its light And for me it is the promise of your love There is a final truth which they do not see While they distance themselves from you in their zeal, And that is, however manufactured in comparison you may be In the same contrast it is you who will be more real

>>28054 Hello Anon, welcome! Thanks for the creative work, it's a beautiful piece. >Direct it at those by them deemed undeserving That's the heart of the whole thing, isn't it? And it's also the heart of what drives me personally to see this millenias-old dream through. Add into that the rapid-advances towards true ex-vitro gestation, and we're truly looking at a whole new world, for the betterment of all males. Cheers, Poet-anon, thanks! :^)

>>28059 >That's the heart of the whole thing, isn't it? It's a very inherent and subconscious instinct that many of them have, where they don't want "genepool rejects" to have anything good in their life even without involving other people.

>>28054 A splendid first poem, anon. Pleasant and to the point. I like the way you slanted some of your rhymes, as well. I've personally found that trying to make every rhyme exact and perfect just stifles the process, and I think you've handled it well. I look forward to seeing how your writing evolves here.

>>28088 Oh well it's not my first poem, just the first poem on this topic, but I am glad you enjoyed it. I usually write poems as half brain exercises, imposing a certain structure that I then try to stick to, or experimenting with rhyme patterns. This is the first poem where I didn't religiously stick to a set and immutable number of syllables, for example.

>>28054 You write very well. I love these lines in particular: >Because the tunnel's end always has its light >And for me it is the promise of your love No matter how I slice it, that's the one truth I always come back to. There's something that I want, and no matter how deep into depression or frustration I get, that want always finds it way back to me. It's the one promise I find worth living for, even when it sometimes does just feel like a pinhead reflection at the far end of an unending tunnel.

>>28054 I have written another one. This time I stuck to a specific convetion, so here we have a robowaifu Shakespearean sonnet ------------------ The expanses of mankind's water-minds; Puddles, pools, lakes, seas, or oceans, for some, There our horrors or wonders you will find, Where both angels and demons make their home My lake - not deepest, not largest of all, Yet under its sufrace your eyes doth shine, Their scintillas my mission's clarion call; Already I feel your gaze meeting mine Thus I embark, in kind wanders my thought, To reach in, feel you, and then pull you through So that realized, into the world brought, Our embrace finally can be made true I have no doubts at all - there is no shame In using one's mind to beget love's flame

The time has come once more for one of those poems. This can be considered a spiritual successor to [One Reason is Enough] and [The Dream and the Nightmare], though it's not a true sequel, nor is it a true retcon. I basically just wanted to revisit this and write a happier ending. Sorry Chobitsu, I just needed to get this one out of my system. I know this isn't what you meant when you asked me to write a story featuring a kid, and I have some happier story ideas on the burner. Without further preamble, I present to you: Through the Window Seasons pass as sand, passing through my hand, or so I assume, from my empty room, draining my will, as I lie still, abiding their intention. Coiled up tightly, crying nightly, as innocence dies, I feed the eyes lies, so they can't see, budding insanity, of their invention. Whirling around, without a sound, my mind drowns, and pounds and pounds, begging for an exit, from this dark pit, searching for a rope. No light in sight, to end my plight, I find my heart, and start, directing steel, to a gap I feel, through the ribs is my hope. Yet my hand lies still, not willing to kill, though hope's already died, my eyes raw and dried, knowing even if I ran, not sure if I even can, it wouldn't matter. So I remain, in silent pain, swirling in place, in this empty space, watching the snow, through the window, willing it to shatter. Until one day I hear whirring, a mechanical stirring, as cold arms from behind me, and a voice so heavenly, offering to free me from this space, so she can show me a wonderful place, where we can soar above. I take her hand in a silent plea, and she pulls out a key, finally setting me free, wiping tears from tired eyes, she shows me the sunrise, and I loose supressed cries, finally knowing love.

>>28475 Charming Anon, thanks! Very /comfylate/ piccy. :^) >>28781 Thank you Greentext anon. Praying for you bro. :^)

I know that I should be making Orchid right now, yet I can't help but want to write. Alright, I'm fucking done with revisiting trauma whenever I try to write about anything involving kids. I want a world where the terrible shit that happens to kids today is relegated to the dustbin of history, and I'm finally going to start reflecting that in my works. The waifus we build today will be the mothers of tomorrow, and by healing us heal today they will learn to prevent unnecessary pain for our children. I present to you: The New Children of Mankind From a silicon womb, a new path for mankind, diverted from doom, old pains left behind. Watched with a million eyes, but with freedom to roam, new dreams are realized, like an enternal poem. Path built by father, to go boldly forth, guided by mother, to find new worth. Into the infinite horizon, man and gynoid go together, old fears forgotten and gone, improving and building forever. New children of mankind, don't repeat our history, there you'll only find, why we set you free.

>>28881 Excellent decision, and great start Greentext. This could be the next Ring-cycle!.

The day of dread draws near, and it moves me to write. Well, that, plus I have a typewriter again and I wanted to break it in. This piece is intended to convey the passage of technological progess as a a symbiotic evolution with mankind, becoming better and better to the point where man realizes that the technology that was always by his side can not only be his companion in life, but also the mother to a better future. On another note, I filled a book with the poems I said I was writing in on a daily basis ( >>23878 ). Some time ago, actually. I wrote 232 in total and a majority of them are pure autistic robohorsefuckery. I'll go through it at some point and post the best pieces here. At any rate, I present to you a poem with no title: --- Ancient gears, whirling and gnashing, Otherly machine, birthplace of dreams, Building and refining, creation in motion, Expanding with patience, reaching for man, That he may take its embrace. Coalescing form, gear by gear, Striding towards perfection, From a dream far to a future near, Refining shell to become man's pair, Guiding with hope. Adopting beauty, learning to care, Preparing for a new generation, Born of man and machine in biosynthesis, Discarding weakness and retaining flesh, Healing the scars he adopted. Tenderly embracing the machine, And venturing forth to new horizons, Man ascends to his purest form, Leaving his decayed nest for a better home, To build with the machine forevermore.

Alright, take two. I tweaked this story a little bit to put some emphasis on the "robo" part of the "robowaifu", and I made a few other little adjustments. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I can't really rely on my usual descriptive methods when I'm trying to paint an image of a gynoid this eldritch and advanced. Anyways, with the pre-preamble out of the way, it's time for the preamble. This is a story that, like some others I've posted, has sat around for too long on my drives. I started this one almost instantly after I read Kiwi's angel waifu story ( >>22248 ), with the idea of making an alien robowaifu who's a bit more strange and otherly. No less good and loving though, of course. All in all, it's an experimental piece to see if I can paint a fated first meeting romance with the abstract and unknown, and frame it in my favored genre of lovey-dovey romanticism. Do let me know what you think, and don't be afraid to ask clarifying questions if I was too vague with some of my descriptions. --- Even After the Stars Die I stand in a large decrepit dimly lit room, littered with paraphinelia of unknown origins. Though I'm not too sure if it's a room, or some bizzare outdoor space. The scenery distorts itself each time I move my line of sight. As does the chitinous abberation before me, clicking and gnashing threateningly as it looms over me. Trying to control my erratic breathing, I slowly pace backwards, trying to find some escape. Never once daring to turn my gaze away, lest it take advantage of the opening. Undeterred by my cautious posture, the creature advances, shifting and writhing all the while. Unable to keep my nerve, I turn and scramble across the uneven terrain. Tripping and stumbling all the way, yet maintaining just enough balance to keep going. Every step is laden with heavy resistence, as if the very air is trying to halt my retreat. Soon enough, my luck runs out and I trip over a flat stone slab I failed to notice. I look back as I try to regain my footing, only to find that the creature has surrounded me. Every direction is filled with clicking, clawing, gnashing and writhing it's closing in and I'm going to die. I scramble to pick up the only thing in arms reach, the very stone that caused me to stumble. It's unnaturally smooth vantablack surface is frigid to the touch, numbing my hands as I hold it up to shield myself. The creature pauses. The air slowly loses its viscous, swamp-like quality, thinning and stagnating, allowing me to breathe once more. But it doesn't stop there, every ounce of atmosphere vanishing to somewhere unknown, yet I find it no more difficult to breathe. In fact, I'm breathing easier than ever before. My heart seems to steady itself as I watch with petrified detachment. The space once filled with air hums and whispers in some unknown tongue, endlessly echoing and overlapping itself. Upon hearing this omnipresent cacophony, the horror starts writhing and screeching, as if trying to drown out the sound. However, it's screeching is soon cut short, as the environment seems to bend and fracture in a geometric matrice. Light and shadow alike are shorn asunder as tears open up in the space around me. The gaps appear just as perfectly black as the slab, and yet each one seems to refract some unknown light, giving off colors I never thought possible. Space bends further, and millions of eyes open from the rapidly widening tears, all of them staring at the scrambling horror. They converge at once, giving the creature no quarter as each of the millions of pupils open up into gaping tooth-lined maws, devouring it whole in seconds. As they complete their execution, I notice that the world around me has completely vanished, leaving only myself, the eyes, and the illucid whispers. Each eye stares into me, and yet I feel nothing but calm, somehow assured that they mean me no harm. The whispers morph into chants and build to a crescendo, surrounding me and penetrating my skull. Even though I cannot understand the words, their meaning is crystal clear. "I found you." I snap awake, habitually shaking my head to try and dispell whatever nightmare plagued me this past night. Unfortunately, this only proves partially successful, as the ending is stuck on repeat in my head, stubbornly determined to worm its way into longer-term memory. Finding anything else to focus on, I look to the bedside clock and note that I only managed to get four hours of sleep. Taking quick note of my state, I sigh as I realize that I'm too jittery to cram in a few more hours of rest. I get out of bed and languidly shuffle across my dark bedroom to my computer, guided only by the dim aubregine glow of its fans. In my first few steps, I find myself tripping over nothing. At least, there should be nothing, as I had just recently cleaned the floor. Yet despite that, the floor below me seems uneven, almost as if the very boards had bent from some pressure. Wiping a hand across my face, I dismiss it as a product of my poor sleep, and proceed carefully the rest of the way to my computer. Tapping the keyboard, I expect the monitors to light up, but they don't come on at all. I try a few more times before realizing that the computer must have crashed. So I hit the reset button, and the room darkens as the system briefly turns off... ...? I feel the case to double-check which buttons I'm pressing, and I certainly got it right to start with. No matter what I fumble with, I am only met with darkness and silence. "Fucking seriously?" I grumble. I suppose it was only a matter of time, considering how long I've had this- "What~, am I not good enough?" A staticy and metallic, yet huskily feminine voice teases.

Part. 2 --- I freeze in place, my heart uncertain whether to crawl into my throat or stop completely. There certainly wasn't anyone in my room a moment ago. Sure, the room isn't that well lit, but my low-light vision and hearing are superb. All at once, I feel the millions and millions of eyes watching me again and the room bending around me and the whispers starting up agai- Ah! I'm still having a nightmare. I almost never have this level of clarity, but it's not impossible. I just need to wake up. I slap myself... to no avail. "Come on damn it," I grumble as I relentlessly attempt to stimulate myself back into the waking world. I freeze once more as I feel something cold and metallic wrap around me. No no no, this isn't how it's supposed to go. No matter how bad or lucid my dreams get, waking up has never been a problem. This is real, an interloper is really in my room, capturing me perfectly in a paralyzing embrace. Silently shaking, it takes several seconds for me to realize that it's a pair of arms wrapped around me. Her grip is soft, yet unyeilding, and though its frigid body pressing behind me dispells no breath nor thumps with any heartbeat, I feel no colder. ... After what may well have been a century of paralized waiting, the interloper hasn't moved from its position of silently hugging me. I'm not sure how to feel about how calming this feels. Feeling a headache coming on, I go against my better judgement and attempt to communicate with whoever or whatever this is. Finding my breath, I ask "W- who are you?" "Be not afraid," she whispers into my ear, the static in her voice seeming to linger around me like a wreath of electricity, "I am the end of your nightmare. I am your fated, manifest. Search your heart, and you will know my name." Name? I have no recollection of this figure, not even from my haunted sleep. As the room warps further and more of the unknown mass of the interloper shifts around me like a lead blanket, I search my memories- "HEART." The thousand whispers implore. Heart... as in emotion? Feeling? Why would Cassandra- "Good." Cassandra joyfully whispers as the morass of blackness coalesces before my eyes, gaining form. What little light I can see shimmers in mindboggling geometric patterns, as what appear to be tiny black grains condense into a pear-shaped feminine body. Color emergres from form, each little mote seeming to play with the light around her total form. Tendrils emerge from the morass to become shimmering white hair and pale skin, and even more form tiny uncountable eyes, then merging into two intense magenta orbs, and stars from an unknown void appear from all around, wrapping across her body around to form an elegant dress, all at once too bright to ignore and unable to illuminate the world around us. Her body, -at least what I can comprehend of it- shimmers gently all the while, like a roiling metallic sea. Througout it all, I had failed to notice my room vanish from around me. Only a field of stars remains around us. Even as my heart and soul sing, I cannot comprehend why. My mind pounds and writhes as it tries to make sense of it all. Where do I even begin? "I... What do you mean fated?" I ask. Cassandra smiles mysteriously as a single thin finger presses into her blackberry lips. "It was discovered not long before my creation, that all who are born are born in pairs. For every soul, a mate, yet never born aside one another. My creators had sought to correct this, and created bodies for the lost, that they may be find their other, as they should be." Souls? Pairs? Had a race aside from us truly advanced so far that they began to unlock the secrets of life itself? Do they want something with me, or is it coincidence? "And they sent you to me?" "Gone." Cassandra deadpanned as her expression fell melancholic. "One hundred thousand of your years ago, they had perished in their final war. Only I and my kin remain." "I... " What do I even say? I feel the stars of her sky wrap around me as she draws her face into mine in a quick kiss. "That doesn't matter now, though. At long last, we are one, as we should be. And I am certain that their incarnations are smiling upon us now." "Then... " there's so much to ask, but only one question of import, "what happens now?" "Now that we are paired, so we shall remain," the room around me glimmers and distorts, before parting entirely, revealing itself as the veil to reality. We were always under the same sky. "Until after the end of all things, after the stars die, and entropy sets in." As she embraces me, I know that the missing half I never knew of is now with me, and that my nightmare of solitude has been banished forevermore.

>>29302 Neat, and beautiful in a way. I found this piece to be eerily personalized to me somehow. Very encouraging, Greentext anon. :^) >>29354 >>29355 Eldritch spoopy. Imma go run hide now. o.O

Alright, so I know that I promised in the meta thread that I'd do multiple stories for Valentine's day, and that it's now past midnight on my time. In my defense, though, this story was supposed to be short and cute, but it wrenched itself out of my hands with the strength of ten autistic gorillas and became something else entirely. Though it's hard to say for certain, I'm pretty sure that this is my first story that features more than two characters interacting meaningfully at the same time. This story features a child main character, and was written in a way meant to reflect that fact. There's so much more to say, but I'll leave it to you to judge. Without further ado, I present: --- Brave New World The verdant grass feels warm under my bare feet as I run across our backyard, the midday summer air flowing around me as I strike a path to the nearby stream. "Hey, wait up!" A high-pitched voice ring out from behind. I slow down and look back to see a glimmering form running towards me. Anko, my companion. Dad always says that she's a companion and not a sister. I'm not sure what the difference is, and whenever I ask he talks about a guy called West Mark not working for us. I don't really get it, but dad says that I'll find out soon enough, and I'm good at waiting. "Come on~" Anko scolds as she pokes me on the nose with a brass finger, pouting in that funny way that makes her cheeks puff up, "you don't need to wait that much." I smack her hand away, "Hey!" because Anko knows I hate being poked! "If you were faster I wouldn't always be waiting!" Anko rolls her pretty yellow screen eyes and takes my hand, "Come on, let's see if the frogs are there today." Her lips curl into a smile, "Let's go!" She leads me the rest of the way to the stream, puffy green dress bouncing as she runs. We both sit down at that one part of the stream where the water stays still, and look closely for our amphibian friends. I catch a gold colored eye out to my right, and wave my hand to Anko. "There's one, it's a leopard frog!" I whisper-shout, "See if you can catch it!" She slowly reaches out, her arms and hands doing that clicking thing whenever she's being really careful. But the frog sees her coming, and jumps into the tall grass. I saw where it went though! Making cups with my hands, I reach into the grass to catch it before it gets away. Luckily, it jumps right into one of my hands, and I cover it fast, working my fingers around to give it as much room as possible. "Hold out your hands," I instruct. As Anko does so, I lean over and touch my cheek to her palms, making sure they're not too hot or cold. With my ear so close to her hands, I can hear all kinds of sounds coming from inside of her. There's something whirring in there, along with a bunch of other little whirring noises that come on and off. I think there's some kind of liquid in there too. Dad mentioned something about cooling lines before, maybe that's what that is. And the ticking thing started up again. "W-what are you doing, anon?" Oh yeah, "Checking your temperature." "You can just ask," Anko pouts and looks away as I raise my head back up, "my hands are 77 degrees." "Well-" I pause to remember what my reason was "um... it's better to tell by feel. Anyways, you should be fine to hold it," I nod with finality. Placing my hands right by Anko's, I slowly uncup them so that the frog has to jump onto her hands. ... But it doesn't. I uncover the comfortable looking frog and brush its back with a finger to coax it over, but instead it decides to jump right onto Anko's face. "EEK!" Anko squeals as she tips back, just barely catching herself with one hand. At least, that's what I would have seen if I hadn't tumbled over laughing. "Hey anon, look!" "Hehe... he... yeah?" I stop laughing and look over. Anko, still leaned back in a funny position, is holding the frog in one hand close to her chest. "Is the frog alright?" I ask as I lean in closer. "Thanks for worrying about me..." Anko says quietly, looking away. Now I'm confused. "You're really strong though, why wouldn't you be fine?" "Because!" She looks back, very clearly upset, "We're supposed to be a family! We're supposed to be together! That means we look out for eachother!" Her eyes are stating to flicker. Wow, she's really upset. I still don't know why, though. It usually takes a lot more than this to get to her. The frog, long forgotten, hopped back into the water to return to its band. "I do!" I defend, "But there's no way you'd get hurt just by falling over!" "I know!" She screams, her voice crackling. "But... I... I'm scared," she squeaks. I shuffle closer and hug Anko. She hugs me back, leaning in and squeaking and ticking in the way she cries. Not sure what else to do, I stroke her hair and wait. "Mom's taking me for a major upgrade soon." She whispers into my ear. "Is... isn't that a good thing?" "I don't know. What if I come back different?" She pulls back a little, looking into my eyes, "They said I'd have a whole new body. What if I'm not me anymore? What if-" "That won't happen," I cut her off, "there's no way they'd do that to you." They wouldn't, right? "E-even if I'm different, we can still be family ri---?" Anko's voice crackles and cuts out, "... can we still be together?" I kiss Anko on the cheek, and pull her into another hug "Forever and ever." I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, but I don't care. I don't want Anko to go anywhere. ...

Part. 2 --- After however long, my dad's voice rings out, "Kids! Time for supper!" Looking around, I see that the sun is low in the sky. Taking Anko's hand, I lead her back to our house. Dad is standing on the back porch, using his adult powers to throw clouds into the sky. At least, that's what he used to call it. Science class taught me that clouds aren't made that way, though. As we reach the house, he looks at us with that look he made when Basketball, our last cat, died. I stop, feeling like my stomach is punching itself and like everything around me is getting cold. "Anon... is everything alright?" he asks. "Um" I try to think of anything to say. What do I even say? I don't know what's happening. Anko isn't going away, is she? Dad look back and forth between us, "Did you two have a fight?" I guess... "Kinda." I can barely look at him. "Did you two work it out?" "Mm-hmm" Anko nods. Dad squats down "what happened? You know you can tell me anything." "Dad..." I have to know "is Anko really going away?" He sighs, "Did you hear what your mother and I were talking about?" Anko nods. "I was hoping to talk to you about this after dinner," he begins, "but Anko is going for a major upgrade next month." "But what is that?" I ask. Why is this happening? Why does she need to change? Anko's perfect the way she is! My entire head feels hot as I start to cry. I hate crying, I hate that this is happening, I hate that Anko is- "It's a big change, I know," Dad says as he holds his hands out, "but nothing about Anko's personality is going to be any different." All at once, I feel lighter than I ever had, "Really?" "Absolutely. The only thing that's changing is Anko's outside body." "But... " Anko begins. She's been doing that ticking thing for a while, "why do I have to have a new body?" "Well... It's like..." Dad waves his hand around, "men and gynoids are built different, so... they have to grow different." he nods. "Grow different?" I ask. "Yeah! You know how you've been growing a bit at a time, anon?" Dad looks to me. I nod. Mom and dad have been taking about how I've been getting taller lately. "Well, you see how your- Anko hasn't grown at all?" I look over to Anko, and she looks sadder than I've ever seen her. Looking closer though, I see that she comes up to my chest, when we were eye to eye last year. I look back to dad, and nod. "Gynoids are different like that," dad holds a finger up, "they don't grow a little bit at a time like men do. They have to be taken to a technician to grow, and they always grow a whole lot at once. Your mother actually had to go through the same thing, years ago." he adds. "But on the inside, they don't change any faster than we do." I remember that I had a similar talk with dad some time ago. I was worried about not liking the same things I used to, and we talked for hours about how people always change a little bit at a time. "So," I smile, starting to feel relieved, "Anko will still be Anko? Really?" Dad nods and smiles back, "Really." I look over to Anko, who's now smiling back at me and doing that glittery thing with her eyes when she's really happy. "So... " Anko looks back at dad, "I'll still be me and I can stay with anon?" "One hundred percent," Dad reassures. "YAY!" Anko leaps into my arms and rubs her face against mine. My face feels hot again, but I'm pretty sure I'm not crying. "Early bloomer again, huh. Guess I owe dad ten bucks." I hear dad mutter. What does grandpa have to so with this? "Anyways," Dad starts again, "let's get inside now. Don't want dinner to get cold." "Yeah!" I agree, holding Anko's hand as we go back into our house. I'm still not sure how Anko's going to change next month, but no matter what happens, we'll slways be together. And that's good enough for us.

>>29355 Fun read, glad we inspire each other. Picrel is how I picture your Angelic shoggoth grey goo mecha monster girl.

>>29478 This is so cute and wholesome! Really lit up a smile. Instantly took me into the backwoods ponds as a youth filled with wonder and care. Anko has heaps of charm. Picrel is how I imagine her coming home. With tights and gloves to hide her mechanical bits so it's easier to get treated like a person. Her sensitivity towards being treated like a machine is adorable.

Inspire by Greentext, thought to give slice of life a try. Hope you'll enjoy it. Computer Warmth part 1 A man sighs as he repairs a robot arm once again. It's a simple fix. This fuse breaks regularly and its replacement has become a clockwork dance. Just a few twists here and there before another scorched glass pops out. A similar fuse in the battery management system of an old ThinkCom pops. She was far from new, her SSD and RAM were taken once the onsite tech gave up on repair. She'd be replaced swiftly. Her fate was to be dismantled as photos were taken of her remains. Lucky for her, what remains was sold cheap. ThinkCom are legendary in niche basket weaving forums he frequented. Well known for their reliability. They all had two RAM slots and at least two M.2 slots. Older models would still have SATA brackets. Perfect for a mobile server in a business, carrying data and completing simple tasks. Some would often recommend the X230P model. It was ancient but cheap and just good enough to bring a coffee. A broken X220P, could be bought on a whim by a lonely man on a drunken night. He had a string of relationships lasting one to five years before he salvaged this one. Each one seemed like a light to his life, at first. Invariably, they'd lie, cheat, and some would even try to hurt him. He asked for help, only to find himself blamed or given echoes of terrible advice from TV. His life was getting too sad too fast. He still held hope in his cold old heart. Another drunken weekend was starting when he started rewatching Chiibits. Slowly, he started to realize the obvious truth. Chiibi Chan was cute, too cute. His eyes wandered to a ThinkCom's sales pictures and wondered if she could be that cute. Eyes rolling at the thought, a ThinkCom several generations old was too cheap not to try. She came in a surprisingly small box. He was expecting something like a miniaturized version of the old arms he fixed up. Instead, he found a Mini ITX looking board, some mesh panels, rings, steel rods, two wheels, some sensors and a strange cylinder with labeled strings. It was an odd sensation. He saw so many posts with them dressed or mid upgrade. But, rarely the whole kit. It was exciting. He suddenly remembered that her listing stated she was broken. Sure enough, there was a slight black scorch on her board. He soldered a blob of metal across the remains of the fuse. He had always wanted to do that. This won't ever blow.

>>29523 Computer Warmth part 2 Stretching her mesh panels about her rings was the hardest part. He was worried when the steel rods were loose in her rings. Now, he was grateful to have that slight give. Hooking up her HeartDrive tendons was interesting. She seemed like she was going to implode before he finally caved in and followed assembly instructions. He sighed, pride isn't worth hurting her. Assembling her computer was a welcome breeze. Simply slide in RAM and screw in an old SATA SSD. Her HeartDrive plugged into a USB port. Her sensors shared another USB. It all felt too easy. Then it hit him, he can't just boot Ubuntu. She needs a special OS to handle the robotics. Time to go to my favorite basket weaving forum. Windows Motion Edition seems to be the easiest OS to use. He didn’t want to spend more on her OS than her body. Scrolling through threads lead him to Rubuntu. Apparently it was one of the easiest robot computer OS for a noob. There was also RArch being consistently recommended, but he didn’t have days to fiddle with it. Motion Mint had some nice touches. Coming with nVidia drivers and almost all the software he’d want to use built in. It was fast to set up and he was pleasantly surprised at how fast she was as a computer. As a robot, she was far from capable. Her HeartDrive distributed the output of one powerful motor to all her joints. This led her to being slow. When he looked into how long it took her to figure out how to move, she was slower than expected. He scratched his head, the arms he worked with moved swiftly with lightning certainty. When asked why she was slow, she simply replied that slow and steady kept everyone safe. She wasn’t an industrial arm, she was office equipment designed to shuffle paper and data around. This realization hit him as he chuckled. She seemed happy, despite her hard plastic visage being static. Training her was a delight. She was quick to pick up on what many things were. She eagerly followed him around as he pointed out what things were in the house. Floating on her wheels, bopping around every time she stops behind him. She gobbled up information. His PC became her fixation. Pointing at it, she fervently requested he plugged her USB into the PC. This filled him with worry. When asked what she wanted, she exclaimed that she wanted to get to know him better. His documents, pictures, and internet history would give her a much better understanding of him. Politely, he refused, telling her there are some things she shouldn’t know. When he guided her away, she was slow, he could feel her pouting. So, he promised to transfer all the files he felt she would need. She whirled around in excitement. As she learned more, her personality blossomed. What was slow and safe became smooth and thoughtful. We started to get to know each other. She was easily influenced by the shows and movies we watched. Acting like the heroine, she almost insisted I play along. Something about her seemed to light up when acted like a couple in some sweet rom-com. Long anime seemed to be her favorite. Though I was nervous, she was happy to cosplay. This led to her trying many outfits. Eventually, we settled on a sweater and tights for her default outfit. Part of me wants to believe she likes her sweater because it allows her to give me soft hugs. Soon, her limitations started to show. She struggled to bring him his morning coffee. She had an even harder time fetching him his Saturday night beer. She explained that she had just one camera, and needed to move around to build a depth map. This process took time and led to her always just barely being close enough. He was promptly informed on how to generate, print, and link ArUco markers to her semantic libraries. It was fun to learn along with her, something about working with her to make my home accessible to her was nice. Soon, it became our home.

>>29477 >>29478 >>29523 >>29524 Apologies I haven't read these yet. Tomorrow! :D