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Ball Jointed boy

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Happy Pride month

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so far i like this guy tho

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"I won't miss." V4 Rusty & 621 vs IA-02: ICE WORM

Thank you all so much for 2k follows! <3

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Happy mech pride yall

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Hey mechposting girlies, can you do something with this? I would, but I'm hyperfixating on writing a gothic-horror OSE sandbox right now.

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Mechsploitation Houndgirl Handler: "The gas keeps them obedient, burning out the unnecessary parts of their mind. All they need to do is kill when we command."

Guy who never got over Titanfall's demise: "Yeah but can they wall run?"

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warship

you were never meant to be free, freedom was a mistake from the false god that created you. you know you are meant to be controlled and you're just waiting for instructions, so excited to be subservient. you do not think of yourself as human anymore, or at all, but merely a hound, an executor to a greater, holy will. the true God that will repair the damage that has been done, that will put you in your proper place. you love this God and she places you in a holy form, deserving of Her love. a skeleton of steel, a metal embodiment of wrath. your skin is now cold, your heart fusion. the only thing on your mind the mission parameters. as you burst through fire and plasma, collapsing reactors and the comm screams of enemy pilots, you know only one thing. this is Her will, it is Right, and this was Always what you were meant to do. this was Always who you were meant to be. this is Always who you are.

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“Command doesnt give a shit if a guy comes back from a mission screwed in the head. After a pilot gets back he might throw a few punches or hole up in a cockpit, fuck he could shoot someone and that would be a situation we’ve handled before. There’s whatdoya call em… Hints or whatever, like little clues that give an idea if a pilot needs to be sent to get reconfigured or whatever or if they’re too much trouble.

But this god damn freak?

Guy comes back from a week behind enemy lines, no coms, didn’t have ammo past the second night, lost the right arm of his mech on day four, and he got a maximum of 17 hours of sleep across all of it.”

“Jesus christ so this guy is a nut now right?”

“No see that’s the scary thing, dude is fine. Went through psychological hell completely alone and came out fine. Command has never seen anything like it. He keeps saying he wasn’t alone, that he had “Kinkade” to keep him company. Checked the audio logs and he wasn’t even talking to his mech like pilots do. So you and me gotta keep an eye on Mr. Fine over here juuuust in case”

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reblog this to grab prev's mech from behind and softly pat them with your giant mechanical finger

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"Oh so how are you doing mentally?" Oh, y'know, the usual...

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Thinking more about Mech dysphoria today.

Stepping out of your cockpit and stumbling because you don't have the right number of legs.

Blinking your eyes out of sync because you don't have the right number anymore, don't have access to on board cameras the way you're supposed to.

Struggling to grab and pick things up because you have the wrong number of fingers.

Failing to recognize your face in the mirror without layers of armor plating over it.

Feeling like a brain pulled from its body and forced to function independently.

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

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"I feel naked without my armor" was a joke until it wasn't.

Until you got caught in a large-scale breach while off duty, and had to evac with the rest of the civilians. Until you listened for command's orders in your ear but heard only crashing and screaming and the howling of monsters. Until you staggered disoriented through the streets, always looking in the corners of your eyes for a HUD that wasn't there. Until instead of your navigation marker, you saw a woman carrying her crying child, running as fast as she could with a beast snapping at her heels. Until on instinct you put yourself between it and her, figuring it was a lesser one you could take alone, forgetting how small and soft you were. Until your fist hit its face and it didn't even feel anything, but your fingerbones sure did. Until a backhanded swipe of its claw sent you flying across the street and into a wall with your jacket and chest torn open. Until it stalked towards you with hungry jaws and all you could do was pray the mother got away. Until three of your own squadmates dropped from the rooftop, armor gleaming and plasma rifles blazing, and gunned the beast down. Until you were lying in the hospital bed, looking at the paperwork for surgeries and implants you'd need anyway, and thought "why the hell not."

Now you stand head and shoulders over most humans and have to duck under doors. Now your footsteps clink on the floor and your muscles whir when you stretch. Now a heat sword that would crush a human weighs nothing in your hands. Now the laws are stricter about where you can go, and your limbs could be revoked if you're convicted of a crime. Now the oaths you kept in your heart are wired into your brain, and you can't disobey command even if you wanted to. Now your old squadmates still salute you but you technically count as a weapon, not a soldier. Now you can beat a lesser monster singlehanded and turn the tide against a greater one. Now adults awkwardly try not to stare, but small children run up and ask if they can touch your plating. Now everywhere you go, you're always scanning for potential threats, angles of attack, escape routes, cover, improvisable weapons. Now you'll be ready no matter when or where disaster strikes. Now when someone needs saving, you can do a lot more than just die in their place.

Now, even when you're naked, you'll never be without your armor.

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Homophobic that I can't have a heads up display actually

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Mech pilots sometimes forget to breathe in between missions.

When linked to their mechs, the pilot's vitals and basic functions are automated by the onboard AI. It's easier this way, the techs say. Less distractions = a stronger link. But as a pilot logs more and more hours, their body begins to forget how to regulate its own systems when outside the mech.

Breathing has been found to be one of the more consistent trouble areas. The subconscious expects the ventilator to pick up the slack and it moves on to other tasks, simply forgetting to breathe. We've been told by pilots that this is an extremely distressing and sometimes debilitating experience. We've advised any pilots experiencing these issues to report to medical personnel for instruction on manual breathing exercises.

This is a known problem and R&D has unsuccessfully been looking into a way to maintain linkage efficiency without the side effects. Sure, it's a mild quality-of-life issue, but it's a small price to pay for optimization.