#mecha posting

[clovercache]

Walter needs to dunk 621 in a mystery sci fi tube once a month to do maintenance on her augments. But dont worry it probably feels really nice!

I wanna draw a mini comic with Walter helping her out the tank, getting her dressed, drying off her hair etc so um stay tuned for that

[estrogenizedfreak]

Cool recruitment concept

You take a girl who has needed mobility aids from birth and you let her take a quick joyride in a military scout mech. As she's crying with joy and cannot wipe the smile off her face, that's when you got her.

When you start absentmindedly saying that the pilots really hate the slow old rusty thing, that the neural links make if feel like your body is the mech that this model sadly doesn't even break mach 2 etc etc.

Once the ride is over and the girl sadly hobbles over to her wheelchair, crutches or orthesis you slide her a contract and say they just had a spot open up for "pilot onboarding" at the nearest military hospital.

Isn't having a hound happy to be a hound so much easier?

[aorysarchive]

my bobot HEAT name comes from technical name for bazookas (High-Explosive Anti-Tank)

I like zookas...

double majestics and javelin alphas

[femmefirmware]

A Room

Yeah, we're starting this. First post weee ------------

Clean. Sterile. Smelling of disinfectants and iodine, one would simply assume this room to be a standard med bay cell, typically used for surgeries and emergency treatments. That is, until one takes a quick little look around the room.

A metal bed. Normal. A metal bed with shackles? Less so. A tray with various tubes with fluids, tools that should be in a shed, a vehicle battery that thought to be in a garage instead of a medbay. And of course, the main course, standing centered in the room. A pup, a hound yet to be cast into the mold, shackled to the bed. And a handler, hundreds of suns old yet not a day over thirty.

"You've potential, pup. But you're blunt, misshapen, too full of thought." She spoke in a calm, steady voice, like a professor giving a lecture. She had a commissar hat and a trench coat with blood red gloves. Easier to clean after the job, she believes. The pup, eager and awaiting, all tapered with fear of pain, naked as the hour it was born.

Handler is steady, practiced. This won't be her first, but it will be her favorite by far. "Your combat training is…immaculate. Your aim, steady as a yew tree. You duck, dodge and weave like it's a dance. You're a perfect hound in all ways but one, pup."

Handler takes a vial, filled with a translucent pink liquid, grinning to herself as she loads it into the autoinjector and aims it at the pup's neck. "You think, pup. When you should obey. You hesitate, when you should pull the trigger. You've proven yourself in the sims, but you're not ready for your own Mech like Sasha was." A click, a hiss, a whimper from the shackled down pup. Restraints so tight it could barely squirm. Titanium so it couldn't dream of breaking free, no matter what comes.

"All that should be in your pretty little head, is the echo of my words, pup. Your triggers will come soon enough, there is time. And then, my beauty, my love, you will be a Hound. Just like Sasha, just like my favorite." The warmth of the injected fluid spreads. The pup felt more awake, more aware. It could feel the air in the room move from the slow fans of the ventilation. Heightened senses, a clearer mind. It dreaded the tools, but welcomed what it represented. Houndhood, hero hood, just like her great grandmother, just like-

"Your hero, she went through this, and my god was she resilient. First time I had to take a moment to rest, and I hope you impress me just as much, pup. Serum 682 will make you aware in battle, in tune with your surroundings." The pup felt giddy. Its first taste of the combat stims. It's new, it's fresh, it's-

"Mixed with Serum 532, however, it will force you awake. A serum for awareness, a serum for wakefulness. Useful on their own. Mixed, nothing will make you pass out, nothing you won't feel." A click, a hum, a zap. A start and a sample of her first dish in this meal plan of final perfection. The pup's eyes widened. Its cheeks flushed with arousal in anticipation, its digits shivering from the cold and fear of pain.

"You'll feel everything, pup. Everything for as long as it takes to clear your mind of anything that isn't obedience, bloodlust, instinct-" She leans down, the last time she lowers herself for her soon-to-be Hound. "-And trusting love of me." Before she rises back up, above the little thing restrained down. The pup can't squirm, can't run, can't speak without permission.

Handler moves the tray to be behind the pup, denying it even the subtle pleasure of seeing what implement she will select before using, save for the one she held. A taser, military grade. Enough to kill someone who hasn't received the physical hardening a soldier or pup has. "I won't lie to my new pet, don't worry. This will hurt, and it will take as long as it has to, pup, however long that may be." A normal person would plead, beg, change their mind. The pup simply barked, just as it was trained. It'll be an easy guess that training won't hold when she starts, and it'll never break once she's done. '"Good pups only speak when permitted." her words rung like bells.'

Handler runs her gloved fingers through its hair, the steel tips of her training tool digging into the bare flesh of the pup. It opens it mou- "You are not permitted." She commands, her tone as it should be. The pup nods, and barks. It is ready, not that its opinion held any value anymore.

Loving eyes gazed at its love. Loving eyes gazed at its handler. Loving eyes….flashed white as the feeling of a million wasps stinging beneath its skin spread. The first bite, of training, obedience, and Houndhood.

[ryucreates]

mechas

[always-tired-lilbitch]

Trust me, I love an old-school shitbrick ironcage type of mech, you simply can't find anything as reliable and easy to mantain, but damn if it ain't nice to step into one of those shinny still-new-smelling high-tech wonders! Last time I got the chance to do so that fucker had this weird headpiece that connected you TO THE MECH ITSELF?? and it made my brain all weird but then I COULD FEEEEEL IT, yk?? Like, the whole thing felt like an extension of my body and sometimes I could swear those air filtration systems were breathing with my own lungs... It's insane what they're making nowadays, makes me wonder if my ol' shitbrick will be useful for much longer...

[sarendipitous]

This is PENUMBRA, a chimeric AC formed from the abandoned parts of several characters from a failed NG++ ending. Only the weapons come from Raven's original AC, SWOOPER (named after the Australian Magpie.) I'll leave people to guess which parts have been grafted off of whomever, although most of these - minus the arms, perhaps - should be pretty obvious.

This Raven was left aimless after failing 'the mission'. She has no handler to help her into jobs, and thus no COAM to repair her AC. She's being hunted down by Middle Flatwell and the rest of the RLF, and though they've expressed a willingness to take her in, she has returned their offers with skittishness and hostility.

Flatwell remains resolute. Raven is a valuable asset, and perhaps the last person Rusty trusted before his disappearance.

[glowingemberz]

okay for one like ill give yall my wild theory about how humanity realistically gets to the point of building mechs