Isabel Fall, please let me love you.

The fantasy of being undesirable yet indisposable for your special skills. The fantasy of a destructible body, and a constructable one. The fantasy of violence that doesn't hurt. Children trained for war take war and make it play, transing the politick.

Plus I guess a landscape of other reasons. The masculine shell and the girl inside. The sheer sex of opening the cockpit. How technical proficiency is the holy grail of non-dysphoric praise. The revelry of putting on a persona, of acting with an unseen face.

Am I pathologically demand avoidant? Well yeah, obviously. You must corral me into initiating things myself, like a paranoid horse.