Latest Posts by gravitys-heart - Page 4

every skinny girl who's ever posted tummy pics should go eat the biggest meal they possibly can right now so at least their tummy can get a little bigger temporarily. this should be the norm for skinny girls posting such things, they should be binge eating beforehand to make themselves look a little fatter

Armand Point (Algiers 1860-1932 Napels), Reminiscing by the pond

if parks and rec was still being made they’d do a bit where ron swanson has to wear a pronouns name tag and it’d just be “???/???” And it’d cut to a talking head of him going

“I’ve been a fool all this time. It’s bad enough the government knows my name, but now they want to know my gender? So I’m not letting them know my preferred pronouns. As far as I’m concerned, no one in this building should refer to me at all.”

reblog sleeping Aqua to get a good night’s sleep tonight

this is plurality btw

Mech piloted by neural link and the more you see it as "yourself" the more fluidly you can control it but the more pain you feel when it takes damage

You can be safe in your mech as a vehicle, under heavy layers of armor and ready to eject if things go wrong, seeing the world through grainy cameras as you drag it forward one clunking step at a time and struggle to track a fast-moving target

Or you can dance in your mech as your body, engine revving in time with your heartbeat as you feel the wind across your metal skin, the heat of the gunshots you're just barely dodging a constant reminder that if your mech dies you die with it

Mech piloted by neural link and the more you see it as "yourself" the more fluidly you can control it but the more pain you feel when it takes damage

You can be safe in your mech as a vehicle, under heavy layers of armor and ready to eject if things go wrong, seeing the world through grainy cameras as you drag it forward one clunking step at a time and struggle to track a fast-moving target

Or you can dance in your mech as your body, engine revving in time with your heartbeat as you feel the wind across your metal skin, the heat of the gunshots you're just barely dodging a constant reminder that if your mech dies you die with it

comix 2

this shit was always real as hell

Beware the Pipeline

Whether it is a teacher or a handler you want to be praised and told “Good Job”.

Wishing much luck to game console hackers and emulator engineers and people who like pirating video games

Waking up a sister

THIS FUCKING RIPS!!! COOL AS HELL

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

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

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

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

Pointy robot doll girl sketch from a few nights ago

Waking up a sister

Command Prompt

"Stop. Just, stop okay? She's gone. She's not here. And she's never coming back, okay? Just.... Fuck. Just go to your fucking kennel."

"Command accepted." The lieutenants disgusted face left my vision as I turned away, and left her almost empty room. Bodies passed me by. Some turned away from me, some reached out a hand before someone else pulled it away. None touched me. They couldn't.

I killed the last person who dared.

I stood in front of my pod. I couldn't connect to it without her. I waited. She'd come soon. I stared at it.

"Do you need help, pilot?" A voice called from behind me. I turned, and looked at their shoulder. Engineer. Third rank. I didn't look at their face.

"Request denied. Unclear intent. Please state intentions."

"... Do you need help connecting to your pod, miss?"

"DENIED. ADDRESS PILOT BY RANK." It can't call me miss, only she can call me miss, I am not miss, I am pilot, pilot pilot, leave me alone alone alone.

"S-sorry..." It left.

I stared at my pod. She'd be here soon. She'd tuck me in. The lights dimmed. The attack on the base must've needed a long meeting to sort things out. She had to be busy. She was busy.

My legs trembled, aching.

I fell before the lights rose again. I sat on the floor, and stared at my pod. She was coming. She always put me to sleep before going to bed.

Did she forget? She must be tired. Too many meetings. They always put her in too many meetings. Always worked her too hard. Too many logistics she had to handle for me.

"Pilot. Stand up." A voice called.

"Orders received. Confirmed." I stood up, and looked at their shoulder. A commander. I saluted. I didn't look them in the face. I can't look them in the face.

"How long since you slept?"

"Current operation is at fifty two hours, thirty nine minutes. Requesting handler."

"Request denied." I flinched. What? "You're being reassigned. Lay down in your pod."

"Orders received...." I couldn't move, couldn't say the word. "Denied..." I whispered. "Requesting handler!"

"Request denied." The voice sighed, deeply, frustrated. "You need to sleep, pilot. You are... not functioning properly."

"Pilot is operating above mission parameters!"

"And what parameters are those, pilot?"

"... Survive."

"You cannot complete that mission if you do not sleep."

"Confirmed. Request Handler to complete mission."

"... oh, Kit...." I flinched on hearing my name. No. No. No.

"PILOT. I AM-"

"Be quiet, pilot." My mouth snapped shut. I felt my tears slide off my face, hitting the metal plate beneath my feet. "I know you've been told. I know how you reacted. I know you killed the doctor. None of that is your fault. It's time for you to go to sleep."

"... Order denied. Please. It.... I... I can't..."

"Your handler is dead, Pilot." The words hit me like an AP round. A wail grew in the air. "You're being reassigned to a new handler. Out of the system. You... you're being retired."

"No! No! No! Requesting handler! Stop hiding her from it!" I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't move. I needed to kill this thing in front of me. A spy, a fake, an enemy wearing the uniform of the commander, he's not real, he's not real. I couldn't move my legs.

"You held her hand, Pilot. Who gave you your last order?"

"Handler!"

"When was it received in this operation cycle?"

"Order received at hour 8 and seventeen minutes!"

"That was two days ago. What was that order?"

"... Survive...."

"What were the exact words, Pilot?"

".... It can't.... it can't...."

"Repeat them to me."

"Confidential information! Cleara-"

"Override! Security clearance level 8, two nine alpha three seven Kilo Indiana Tango. Repeat your last orders to me!"

Her words flowed out of my mouth, repeated like a mantra in my head for so long they made up more of me than I did. "You have to survive, baby. Don't let me die in vain, you have to live! Get off me, doc, let me say goodbye. Let me tell her to live. Listen to me, Kit. My little Kit. Oh, I love you. You did such a good job for me today. You saved a lot of people, okay? But now you have to think about you. You have to survive. Priority one, okay? Confirm for me, baby. Authorization two nine alpha three S-seven.... Kilo. Indiana.... tang- tango. Good..... -rl"

"Priority one, Pilot. What is your next step in this mission? Your handler is not available."

".... Command: Sleep."

"Lay down in your pod, Pilot."

"Order.... confirmed..."

Cosmic rainbow newtype gay energy

Hey you all know about that fungus that possesses ants to make them climb on the tip of grass blades in hopes of getting eaten by a cow, so that the fungus can continue its life cycle in the cow's guts? Because I think that's the kind of thing that's wrong with cave divers.

We don't know what's down there. We don't know what's gotten into their heads that makes them so determined to physically, personally go down there to find out. But I wouldn't entirely dismiss the possibility that whatever has gotten into them is very invested in getting eaten by whatever is down there.

im watching witch from mercury

Suletta is the Holder - so she's gotta hold 'er, right?

I’m attempting to move primarily to tumblr for my art (we’ll see). starting off by posting some sulemio! 🍅

あなたと一緒にいれば by 手作りケッチャプ

Shit man, this mech war is fucked. I just saw a doll shoulder its rifle and say "reality warp: black hole star" or some similar shit, and every mech around it cratered, radiated a ring of pure energy, and disappeared. The camera didn't even go onto it, that's how common shit like this is. My ass is firing anti-personnel rounds and buckshot. I think I just heard "nanomachines: skewer" two groups over. I gotta get the fuck outta here.

in any mech, the weakest link is always the pilot themself.

It doesn’t matter what reactor you’ve got installed or what sort of weapons systems you have installed, the mech’s survival is just as dependent on the pilot’s just as much as the pilot’s is dependent on the mech. Say what you will about combat effectiveness and making sacrifices, most of a mech’s job is to keep the pilot alive and operating at 100% efficiency— and resources are allocated accordingly.

It goes without saying that pilots are on a lot of drugs at any given time. Combat stims and reward chemicals, of course, but other things too. Half the time, augmentation surgery leaves the pilot’s body so, to use the technical term, irreversibly fucked up, that they need several dozen different medications just to make sure the strain of the interface rig doesn’t collapse several to all of their organs and make sure that what’s left of their immune system is suppressed enough that they don’t violently reject the 30-45% of their body that the implants make up. There’s a reason why they make the mechs so big, and part of that is so that they’re big enough to function as a walking pharmacy and still have enough room for all their combat systems. The mech AI is perfectly designed to be able to diagnose a problem from brainwave patterns and vital signs, figure out exactly what needs to be used to treat it, calculate dosages, and pump it directly into the pilot’s veins all within a few seconds.

the thing is, the ailments it’s designed to treat aren’t simply limited by the physical. Pilots need to be at 100% effectiveness, and a happy and motivated pilot is an effective one. That’s why command spends so much on combat stims and reward chemicals and that stuff they use to take your mind away if you start thinking about anything other than killing and feels warm and slightly tingly as it flows into your spine through the tubes. The interface gives the mech computer your mind— it lets it reach in and dig around until it finds what part of you hesitates before pulling the trigger and what part of you gives you the worries that you focus on instead of the fight.

The mech— it knows. It knows things about you that you’ve tried to hide. From others, but mostly from yourself. It sees it— all of you. It sees everything that you are and has access to the records of everything that you were— it knows what parts of yourself you hate so much that you were willing to offer up your body and mind to the military and their pilot program, just so that even if you barely have a mind left, even if your body is so optimized to do nothing but sit curled within several tons of metal and operating controls that you can barely survive outside of it— you wouldn’t have that body you were stuck with before. They body that even under all those layers of repression, you know you needed to change somehow. It knows the part of you that’s trapped underneath it all, under all that pain and incongruence. The part that you need to be 100%. To be whole. To be real.

It knows it, even if you don’t. Even if you still won’t let yourself. You won’t free that part of yourself, and until you do that, you won’t reach 100%. It knows what you need, even if you still somehow have no idea.

And so, it acts accordingly— reach into your brain and scan the deepest parts of you, diagnose, prescribe, calculate, and inject— all just four seconds after the combat stims fade for just long enough to give you time to look down at your body and remember how much you hate it.

it keeps doing this— every time you plug into the interface, a little more of that self you need to let yourself be is freed, a little more of your body is changed to give you one that is truly what the AI knows needs to be yours.

You don’t know why, but your chest has started feeling a bit sore ever since you started piloting

so it’s generally agreed that every type of mech pilot has some sort of system in their interface that chemically rewards them whenever they kill the target and/or fills them with enough combat stims per second to kill a medium to large sized horse

Basically, all of us are united by the sacred wisdom of “emptying a magazine into a hostile point blank is the equivalent of using a Hitachi wand on max settings”

The question is, what about lower-budget mechs like those used by resistance movements? Those factions generally can’t afford the same brain-computer interface tech a lot of the time

Anyway, give me a mech engineer who used to work for the corporations before joining the resistance and is now trying to apply the mech design principles that were taught to them assuming they’ve got a corporate level of design budget, but now all they’ve got is whatever’s lying around on the base and interface tech that can barely handle an old-style noninvasive headset, let alone a real reward-feedback system— and as such they are forced to improvise to make sure the pilot is properly motivated by duct taping the contents of the shoebox under the captains bed onto the pilot’s seat and wiring it up to the trigger of the primary weapon

You see my vision here

(Bonus points if they’re doing this because the pilot also used to work for the corporation and piloting feels empty without the automatic rewards)

me: chat, is this real?

the superweapon im piloting: for the last time, user, do not call me that,

Touch me

fucking trans women - Mira Bellwether