Frog... Cass!

Hologram girl sometimes Vtubing on https://twitch.tv/frogcass

[oleskyfm]

She burns on the sofa, aimlessly sprawled in a desperate heap. Bitterness swirls like clouds of dust engulfing and obscuring her. It has been seventy-four hours en punto since she squeezed the detonator tight and caused millions of credits worth of damages in unrecoverable data to the Ballast Holdings LLC’s server farm located in downtown New Fredericksburg. About as clean of a win as it got.

It has been seventy-three hours, twelve minutes, and six seconds since she last heard from her liaison Cora. Brusque, to-the-point approval, coordinates for a safe house to lie low in, a good route to get there, and an order to wait for further contact was all she got. She remembered when this was fun. She remembered when there was more of a thrill to this. She remembered when Cora was the other kind of liaison to her, too - stupid. It has been one thousand two hundred and seventy-two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and eleven seconds since Nat Olesky got laid. Far, far longer than that since her and Cora broke it off for the final time.

She’s over it, she lies to herself. Just as she’s fine with the way things currently are. A fourth-rate capital firm suffered a minor setback. Victory for the Rose’s Reprieve. Victory for the people. She imagines something Orvo might’ve said if he was still around - no such thing as a small win. Just a win. Take a breath, you earned it. She misses him.

The ceiling fan above her jostles with every other full end-to-end spin, chk chk chk-ing along quietly. She imagines the fan collapsing atop her in some freak accident. All alone, done in by some fluke. She imagines the blades somehow being sharp enough to impale her. What if that’s how she goes - not herself, not the war, not in her sleep, not by some agent of the state, but by some haphazard piece of shit ceiling fan. Or a falling electrical unit. Or a collapsed elevator. Or…

She imagines a woman with painted lips curled into a wry grin eyefucking her. She imagines palming through her long, wavy dark hair before making a fist and pulling ‘til the woman’s ear is brushing up against her lips, breath hot against her. Tell me what you want from me, she imagines rasping, unable to keep herself from grinning right back against her as she feels the woman’s hands slide along her own hips. She exhales, pulling her belt away and undoing the first few buttons to her jeans, and imagines the woman shivering against her as she slides a hand past the waistline of her boxer briefs. Inhale, exhale - the swell of her chest rises and falls.

The phone rings. Her eyes snap wide open. The woman with green lipstick vanishes, and Nat is once more alone with her hand down her pants.

It has been seven seconds since Cora has attempted to reach her. The phone continues to ring.

[frogcass]

Can you save the one you hate?

Jessa Karn is freezing to death. The only person on her radio is the Imperial pilot she just shot down. THE SOUND OF HER VOICE - A mechsploitation audio drama, now available on youtube youtu.be/t-yMbkOvPg4

[oleskyfm]

Please give this a listen !!!

[frogcass]

Can you save the one you hate?

Jessa Karn is freezing to death. The only person on her radio is the Imperial pilot she just shot down. THE SOUND OF HER VOICE - A mechsploitation audio drama, now available on youtube youtu.be/t-yMbkOvPg4

[frogcass]

Can you save the one you hate?

Jessa Karn is freezing to death. The only person on her radio is the Imperial pilot she just shot down. THE SOUND OF HER VOICE - A mechsploitation audio drama, now available on youtube youtu.be/t-yMbkOvPg4

[frogcass]

Most pilots dream of retiring. Quinn Ambrose wasn't lucky enough to die. Now she serves as a corporate heiress's bodyguard, forever reminded she's past her prime. A new mechsploitation story! After playing Armored Core 1 for the first time, it lit a fire under me.

If you like tragic lesbian mech pilots, you should check this out! archiveofourown.org/works/79735366

[rattlegeist]

AC6 Pilot outside the mech [Comm for FlaskOfLethe, 1/2]

[frogcass]

Jessa Karn is freezing to death, and the only person on her radio is the Imperial she just shot down.

A new story in my EREBUS series. If you like tragic lesbian mech pilots, you should check it out!

archiveofourown.org/works/77664001

[frogcass]

Jessa Karn is freezing to death, and the only person on her radio is the Imperial she just shot down.

A new story in my EREBUS series. If you like tragic lesbian mech pilots, you should check it out!

archiveofourown.org/works/77664001

[billiecauter]

Golden Hour- Repost

[frogcass]

Ember Munitions has staked its claim on Rubicon.

The mech leading their forces—Sirius—is piloted in tandem by a human and a state of the art Artificial Intelligence, guaranteeing results where human error would intervene.

Sirius's current pilot is 6304-Cass. Careful, she bites.

[frogcass]

Ember Munitions formally disavows Cassie Bryar and her AC: “Sirius”

She is to be considered extremely dangerous

They recommend no corporation have any dealings with her

Cassie Bryar’s whereabouts are currently unknown

[luckyfk]

Elizabeth Shepard just before the start of me1. In her normal clothes cause she was unexpectedly called in for this simple ship test run.

[rattlegeist]

Scrappy Lancer Pilot (comm for Rydermarie)

[lillie-garden]

hey if you want to help maybe get my twitch account reinstated, here's the post on what's up & a link to me trying to get their attention on twitter.

So. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Lillie, I’m a disabled trans woman & have been streaming on Twitch for almost a year now at @ lillie_garden, around every other day (over 150 streams since March), & have made it a point to build community explicitly among other transfems, networking exclusively with one another & only platforming eachother.

On the 4th, while I was streaming, with no warning, my twitch account got permanently suspended. The stream cut out, and the only information we got was my page being updated to “This channel is currently unavailable due to a violation of Twitch's Community Guidelines or Terms of Service.”, and an email linking to Twitch’s appeals portal. The email cited “Serious Violent Threats”, with no further details or information. The “Reasons” panel of the appeal’s portal is completely blank.

I’ve been sat here since going over in my head everything that could possibly have warranted such a thing, and none of the possibilities line up, leading me to believe that it was either something done purely automated- twitch themselves admits to using “machine learning tools” in their moderation- or in absolute bad faith.

We’ve been waiting almost a week now for any sort of response from twitch, but how do you even appeal that kind of thing? In panic I just submitted “???? there are no details listed as to why I was suspended”. No response. No reinstatement. Sat here without being able to so much as watch twitch streams logged out- doing so is against their terms of service. I can’t look at my earnings, chat in other members’ channels, even gifted subs from me are listed as from “unknown”.

Currently, we’re trying to get in touch with twitch through twitter, since that seems to be the only way to resolve account “suspensions”. If you’re interested in doing so, I’d appreciate any boosting of the post I’ve linked, whether its through retweets or more people @’ing twitch themselves. Additionally, I’ll leave a donation post with information on where to find me other than here, I just know this post has gotten kinda long. Either way, thank you for all of your help.

[frogcass]

Ember Munitions has staked its claim on Rubicon.

The mech leading their forces—Sirius—is piloted in tandem by a human and a state of the art Artificial Intelligence, guaranteeing results where human error would intervene.

Sirius's current pilot is 6304-Cass. Careful, she bites.

[frogcass]

Too much time in the cockpit will change you. Between the sorties and arena matches, a world grew around my mech.

Cassie Bryar is not a hero

Cassie Bryar is not a hero. Long ago she might have been. A time that was hard to remember. That war was a blur to her now. Merely images and sensations she could no longer grasp.

Hatred for the Imperium. The rush of battle. Shiny black armor peeling back as it was pierced by Sirius’s plasma blade. The sense of purpose provided by the saddle of her cockpit. Rebel faces smiling back at her as she returned after a sortie. The same faces screaming as the Imperium launched attack after attack.

They put her on posters. She inspired the troops. Undoubtedly some rookie would run up to her and beg for Cassie to autograph her poster when she returned to the hangar. She remembered one clearly. A girl with bright green eyes. The name escaped her. But she idolised Cassie. She sat beside her in the canteen. She styled her hair in the same way. She followed her training regime. She joined her in the gym. She joined her everywhere.

A lucky ambush on a high ranking officer gave the rebels the right intel. She lead a strike team into the capital. She was the one who forced their leaders to sign a surrender. Without a legion of mechs between her and them, she saw the Imperium for what they really were. Cowards. There was no room for cowards in war.

The rebels became the Erebus Republic. They threw down the Imperium’s statues and burned their flags. They rebuilt. Their mechs were repurposed. Machines of war taken apart and divided between the whole republic. All except Sirius.

They told Cassie it was an artefact. The sword that pierced the Imperium’s heart. It didn’t deserve to be turned into a water purifier or a power conduit. But Cassie knew it couldn’t. Sirius was a beast. It had no parts to give. Everything it was made of was for one purpose. It had been built and rebuilt time and time again. It was hers, but it was nothing like the Sirius from the start of the war.

She wondered if she was the same Cassie from the start of the war.

The Republic flourished. Everyone did their part. Everyone wanted to contribute. Cassie wanted to contribute. But she was a soldier. She didn’t know how to handle a plough or build an air filter. She knew how to fight.

When they were done with the parades and the medals they kept her on guard duty. A comfy posting on the capital’s outskirts. One a hero deserved. She was the first line of defence.

But there was no one to defend against. The Imperium left. The Republic was united. Erebus was finally at peace. It had no need for heroes.

Cassie spent more and more time in her mech. She ranged farther and farther on patrol and crawled back to the hangar on reserve batteries. She stopped submitting reports. She stopped checking in with her commander. She stopped leaving her cockpit. She stopped.

They couldn’t get her out of Sirius after that. She was the beast, and the beast was her.

Erebus didn’t need a beast. But Ember Munitions did. They sent a scout to the planet. They offered her enough to retire on the signing bonus alone. She didn’t take the money. She did it for Sirius. A new life for her meant a new life for the mech.

She returned to Erebus years later, when the Imperium attacked. Sirius went wherever there was fighting, no matter the cause. The beast needed blood.

***

The heads up display showed a wreck. The enemy mech had been torn apart. It was missing its arms. Its cannons were bent and broken. The torso was peeled open. The enemy cockpit was a mess of blood, and all she could make out were bright green eyes. The girl piloting Sirius hesitated.

“Wake the dog up.”

Cassie plunged the plasma claws into the cockpit in a burst of red mist.

There was no room for cowards in war.

[frogcass]

Ember Munitions has staked its claim on Rubicon.

The mech leading their forces—Sirius—is piloted in tandem by a human and a state of the art Artificial Intelligence, guaranteeing results where human error would intervene.

Sirius's current pilot is 6304-Cass. Careful, she bites.

[boatsthatfly]

[piano music stops and the whole saloon turns and gawks at you] you got a problem with diversity equity and inclusion stranger?

[frogcass]

Kotor 2 was brave enough to ask:

What if you woke up on a space station in only your jordans?