#mechaposting

[rotglass]

this must have been pure whiplash for cataphract/the PCA in general

AC6 from the PCA's perspective: meme format

[rotglass]

played thru a LANCER tutorial scenario, what a good ttrpg

i really should finish my nelson drawing,,,,

[hemipenal-system]

cuddle the mech pilot you adopted. no, really snuggle her. don’t let her sleep at the foot of your bed. she thinks she doesn’t deserve to curl up with you like a person and will sleep down there huddled up like a dog if you let her. don’t let her. tell her gently but firmly that you want to touch her and that she’s going to get under the blankets with you and you’re going to spoon her

she might cry a bit. pilots aren’t used to that kind of affection. just wipe her tears and tell her you love her and it’s ok for her to cry. and then fall asleep together

[rosepetalkitty]

hear me out. hdg is neat. im all for the floretposting. but. sad trans girl becomes a mech pilot because she sees it as a way out ("hey, at least i get to feel like something other than me sometimes, can't be worse than this").

and then lo and behold she's a viable pilot candidate and they're like "we need to make sure you're as okay as you possibly can be before you start training".

and there's none of that "no no you need to be healthy before you sign up" junk. there aren't a ton of people who can handle the amount of cyberware pilots need to have shoved into their brains. we'll take what we can get, and if that means organizing therapy and stuff for you, so be it.

and... oh. hey. hrt is making things a little better. and therapy is helping. and... huh. not as much sad anymore. just tired. and kinda lonely. and very touch starved.

"wait im getting assigned a handler? does that mean i get to start training soon?!" silent celebration

oh. oh. she's pretty... you mean we're gonna be working as a team... for good?! ohhhh noooo this is so awful hot women are the worst gimme!!!

ok, so we're gonna sync our link chips in 3... 2... 1... oh

oh she's really really pretty 😖

"alright, i need you to test the link"

why's she looking at me like that am i blush-

"gotcha. alright hun raise your right hand."

ing... wait what- how-?! let me put my hand down 😖

"perfect, everything looks good. you can unlink now if you'd like, and we'll have a sim ready for you two in an hour. welcome to the program."

"awesome! lower your hand. let's see... how do i unlink... ah there we go"

wait... no... that feels icky and cold and gross and weird and

"wait... i wanna stay linked... please... 🥺?"

"i was gonna say the same thing hun, this feels weird. here let me just... perfect."

yeah that feels a lot better 😖

"well, if we're gonna keep the link active i might as well practice using it. come here."

yes ma'am ajdjdhbfjdbfbfbh wait no that's-

"aww your face is so cute when i do that~"

"nuhuh" she's so mean 😖 wait what does she mean by-

"i wonder what you're thinking about right now~ on your knees."

"yes ma'am" oh god did i say that out loud

"oh goodness~ yeah, this is gonna be fun..."

[destiny2paladin]

Yes I'm still working on this. The current most fuckable pilot is Freud and the most fuckable AC is Aster Crown.

I'm going to rank the fuckability of every pilot/AC in AC6 plus bosses. Nobody can stop me.

[puppynametaken]

Mecha kink people where is all your smut hosted? Does it have certain tags I should look for? I’ve seen some pilot/handler stuff and that’s so hot and lovely and the dynamics are incredible. Where the fuck do I find more???

[digitalsymbiote]

Excerpt from "The Dangers of Disconnect Syndrome"

"There is a reason that 8 hours is the maximum recommended time for a pilot to be deployed in the field. The pilot selection process already trends heavily towards individuals with high neuroplasticity, and extended time spent in neural sync only exacerbates this issue.

A pilots brain is molded to maximize efficiency, both through training and chemical cocktails, in order to handle the processing load of actually controlling a mech. IMPs help with this, of course, handling calculations and translating impulses into commands.

However, should a pilot spend more than 8 hours at a time in neural sync, this enhanced neuroplasticity starts to have more dangerous side effects. Past 8 hours, a pilots brain will start to form neural shortcuts to operate more efficiently. Many pilots have reported this to feel like their machines are suddenly running more smoothly, and responding faster to their neural commands.

The drawbacks of this process are not seen until the pilot returns to base and disconnects from their mech, at which point we start to see the typical symptoms of Disconnect syndrome. This is because the pilots brain is bypassing the already built pathways for controlling their actual flesh and blood body in order to more efficiently interface with the neural link. The technology behind the neural link is programmed to translate mental impulses for things like moving limbs or twisting our body into the corresponding commands for a mechanized suit. This translation is obviously not perfect. That's why IMPs exist and are trained on a pilots neural pattern from the moment that pilot enters the program.

After a long enough time in sync, however, a pilots brain learns to bypass that translation altogether and send the distinct input signals required to activate the various parts of their machine. In short, their brain learns to better control the mech by bypassing their own motor functions."

-- Lecture given by Dr. Eva Tyomkin, Head of Neural Research at SHI. Conference for Mechanized Innovation, 2145.

[frostfangalphabitch]

The rest of the base has gone to sleep, but you don't sleep anymore. You don't join them in the mess hall anymore, either. You barely eat organic food at all these days, and when you do, it's mainly for pleasure. You can take the organics out of the pilot, but you can't take the love of sweets and pizza out of the organics, you guess. Despite that, you're so far removed from your humanity that it's gotten difficult to relate to most of them. It's not like anyone else is sharing your meals of titanium and copper.

The other pilots look at you with fear and disgust, knowing their inevitable fates if they're ever pitted against you. The mechanics see you as an oddity, a fascination, and heap praise and adoration upon you, but it's hollow in your eyes. It feels more like they're ogling a rare car rather than talking to a pilot. The corps see you as nothing more than a weapon to be pointed at their enemies, or whoever has less money than them that week.

The only person who still respects you as an autonomous individual is your handler. You adore her just as she loves you. Certainly, you're still a weapon - that's what the relationship started as after all - but you think she might be the only human in the base, including the mechanics, who could truly love a weapon of any kind. She's been so good to you through all of this, taking each stage of your radical transformation in stride as naturally as a lover watching her partner go through a more mundane transition. She's only gotten more attracted to you as you've grown into your new form and become more comfortable and confident with yourself. You'd burn the whole world down just to make her happy.

There's one other who respects you for who you are, though: your girl. Your beloved Wolfrun Mk.X, heart of Coral, veins of electricity, and arms of 5 ton power-guzzling metal-shredding AC-devouring WB-0010 Double Trouble carnage. Before all this started, you always thought of her like a weapon, just as the others see you now. Then she started changing you. The Coral in your augments connected with the Coral in her systems, and something changed in both of you. At first, it was just a whisper. Something brushing over your psyche, speaking just on the edge of hearing, incomprehensible but unmistakable.

Then your body started following suit. Your teeth, jaw, and digestive tract were the first things to change, presumably to allow you to consume and digest - you're not even sure if that's the correct term - the materials your girl needed to keep changing you. After your first meal, the tastiest 20 pounds of scrap you've ever eaten, your skin started changing too. The docs couldn't give you injections anymore. Their needles bent or broke when they tried to push them into your skin. You figured out why a few weeks later when what was left of your epidermis sloughed off and revealed armored plating underneath. They had to take an angle grinder to your arm in order to access your veins. You didn't feel any pain when they did. At the time, you thought that should have disturbed you a lot more than it did.

By that point, you'd been noticing Wolfrun's thoughts coming in a little clearer. In transit to your jobs, it was feelings of curiosity, probing, and wonder. In combat, it was a spark in your vision when you needed to dodge, a wordless warning about approaching enemies. In the base... still nothing but a whisper. That's when you started feeling lonely: when you couldn't feel her presence anymore.

As you became more and more monstrous, more and more like her, you began to visit her night after night. Maybe it was because you sensed an intelligence within her 65 ton body, or maybe it was simply because being near her drowned out the silence. You had no way of verifying this, but you felt like she relaxed as well when you were around. She was shut down in the hangar, of course, and there was no way any part of her could still be engaged, or so you thought. But as time went on, the whispers got louder, the words - feelings and thoughts, really - more comprehensible. And all the while, your body changed.

The 5'6" chubby trans gal who went into debt and subsequently under the knife to get a hand-me-down set of 4th gen augments all those years ago is long gone now. The thing you've become, whose claws clanged against the metal of the hangar's floor, had long since cast off that form. Where once was skin had become plated metal. Despite having no screws or rivets to speak of, it stayed firmly in place no matter how much the techs tried to pry it off. The augments which before had stuck partially out of the left side of your skull had seamlessly integrated themselves into the sleek plating that had cropped up on your head, looking far more natural than they ever had before. Your hair had fallen away, and the metal around your skull became angled and sleek, looking more bulwark than biological and with aerodynamic fins sprouting from it.

A sleek black plate had formed where your eyes once were. The day you woke up with that, you thought you had gone blind. You panicked, begging for help, afraid they wouldn't ever let you pilot her again. You had been moved into your new warehouse home at that point, and it took time for the maintenance techs to find you. Before they did, though, you felt someone - your girl, you realized - beckoning to you. She could help you. When the techs finally got there, you begged them to put you in her cockpit. It took them a while to figure out who you meant by "her", but your handler, who had come running the moment she heard the news, was on top of it. She barked at them to get you to Wolfrun, and with great difficulty, the three of them helped you get your then-8 foot form into her. You spent the next week inside her cockpit, refusing to get out except to eat and drink. She was there with you, and she let you see through her eyes. The world as she saw it was far more vivid than human eyes could ever see, infrared, ultraviolet, gamma, magnetic, smells, sounds, vibrations, on top of the visual spectrum you were used to. And when the delicate sensor plate where your eyes once were finally engaged at the end of that week, that's how you saw the world, too.

When you finally left her cockpit, you realized you could still hear her. From then on, she was with you always. That made you happy. It made her happy, too. You started letting her choose her own parts, and she was happy to. She still insisted you choose some too, though, since according to her, it was your body just as much as it was hers. True enough, whatever force was altering your body changed you to match her. When you tried out digitigrade legs, you stumbled getting out of bed the next morning after yours had reconfigured themselves to match. When you got her bulky, high capacity arms, your arms - fully synthetic by then - had bulked up considerably.

Even cosmetic changes started to affect you. You painted menacing, sharp teeth onto her head over the sensor plate with mechanical precision, and you found your own mouth elongating and becoming more of a muzzle as a result. You'd have thought being so malleable would have unsettled you, but you found you were more excited about the possibilities instead. It felt more like becoming who you were meant to be. Besides, it made wolfing down your metal meals easier. You figure intention, either yours or hers, or both, affected how you changed, but no one else had any satisfactory explanation for any of this. You'd stopped caring long ago in any case.

What you and Wolfrun ended up settling on for her, after earning a mountain of COAM for you and your handler with your unbeatable, utterly synchronized performance, was a mid-lightweight build focused on tearing apart the battlefield as quickly as possible with heavy machinery. What you became in response was anything but lightweight, at least compared to the humans around you. The finned bulwark and the black sensor on your head never really changed, but the rest of you seemed plenty mutable. Your arms grew long and powerful, your shoulders tipped with decorative spires. Your waist grew slender, tapering inorganically in nested panels to allow for plenty of articulation. Your torso got wider, too, though for whatever reason, the outline of breasts remained constant on your new chassis. You kept the digitigrade legs. Over time, hydraulic supports seemed to have formed on yours. The snout stayed, too. You were too proud of that paint job to ever take it off even with the changes to your own body. BECAUSE of the changes. You might be more machine than woman at this point, by you're still you, pride and all.

The techs estimate that only about 5% of your body is still organic. Probably most of your brain and maybe some other systems, plus a few symmetrical patches of skin. They suspect that you had either some kind of sympathetic Coral connection to your AC that rearranged your augments and allowed the changes to start, or that somehow repair nanites adapted to your form and began "fixing" you. In any case, they think the bulk of your changes are done with at this point. You're a little disappointed by that. Wolfrun likes the new you, though. She's happy for your connection and to be able to get even closer to you. Your handler appreciates your new form just as much. She doesn't even bat an eyelid when you tell her that you've been talking to Wolfrun. If anything, she seems a little sad that she can't talk to her directly. As for your relationship with your handler, you might be nearly twice her height, standing at a hulking 10 feet tall, but that doesn't stop her from loving you, or from jamming her fingers lovingly between your legs after missions.

But she's sleeping now. It's late, but you're still lonely. There's only one entity up at this time of night you'd care to talk to, so you climb the catwalks to meet her, claws clanging against the metal of the hangar. You smile your toothy, metal smile as she greets you, opening her cockpit so you can crawl inside and be one with her for a few more hours before your next mission.

[furtiveseal]

Sus as hell to be a mech pilot. You're spending all your time in the "cock"pit? 🤨

[faehoundnell]

I want to see a Handler whose in charge of 5 adopted Hound pilots. Get me the Handler who sees the lone wolf, obedient Hound and her domineering Handler and goes, "oh let me introduce you to my girls." And it's just a bunch of happy, tail wagging murder machines who are just the sweetest pilots you've ever met. They form a pack, this tight knit family that cares for each other. Give me happy polycule vibes while these hounds dote and love on their quiet and meek handler. Give me a Handler who is unassuming at first glance, but leads her team of Hounds in missions with such ferocity and success that the higher ups have no choice but accept her request when she sees a recently abandoned pilot receding into their own head and goes, "That one, they're coming home with me."

[patrickbuffman]

Some armored core posting, god I love photo mode I wish every from game had it

Char posting will continue shortly

[corsair-mc-official]

One day the pilot will die. One day the reaper takes its toll

We tell them they're bulletproof, that stress is a resource. We laugh and joke about how unbreakable our pilots are.

But one day they will die.

One day they'll push the reactor too far. Get in the line of fire just long enough. Not react fast enough.

The pilot will die.

There are three cases.

The mech dies.

The pilot and mech die.

Or just the pilot.

Some say the mech remembers. Some say the pilot remembers the control of the mech.

But every boots on the ground is a risk. A risk we all live with.

//Broadband\\

[acerby]

We need more Two Pilot mechs

I believe more mechs should use two pilots. We need more odd couple shenanigans while controlling a giant robot. Doubly so if it's a Cyborg mech. One can link with the Eldridge abomination they have imprisoned in steel, while the other deals with all the technical controls. One can lose their soul to a Biomechanical monstrosity and the other through the means of the military-industrial complex.  Best of both worlds in my book. But I'm just saying what better way to spice up the, There was only one bed trope than to replace it with There was only one mech. Then again given how long mecha has been around this may have already been a thing.

[destiny2paladin]

Pilots that don't handle overstimulation well, and devolve when they're stressed. The handler knows this and forces it every mission. The pilot gets pushed to the edge of overstimulation by the constant data feeds and responsive controls so that the moment a fight starts they get overwhelmed... and lash out. Whatever just took a shot at them has pissed them off and by God they're going to erase it.

Pilots that turn into ruthless hunters that tear through enemy mechs like a child unwrapping a gift for their birthday. The handler watches the feed with smug satisfaction, every threat no more than a smoldering crater by the end. The pilot is drained, exhausted, and utterly spent.

They're pulled from the cockpit with a glassy look, a blank stare. They're fried psychologically, and the handler takes advantage of this. Soft words, gentle reassurance. "You were so brave. I was worried." Lies. The handler wanted a ruthless attack dog, and they turned a loyal hound into a fractured mess to get it.

[hemipenal-system]

Pilot whose mech goes down on the battlefield. they get swarmed by rebels with welders and saws, intent on cutting them out of it, and they just let them.

they get the cockpit open and immediately discover why pilots get titanium teeth and retractable claws implanted when they finish training

Pilot who gets yelled at by their Handler for getting blood all over their jumpsuit

[rosepetalkitty]

more mechworld story after the break!

ok, so since y'all liked my last one so much here's a follow up on that mechworld story. to recap, here's the color coding, names are a work in progress rn:

the pilot, she/her

the handler, she/her

the lead training technician/supervisor, he/him?

fair warning that im having a bit of a rough time deciding on how to narrate this in a way that isn't boring as shit so im kinda winging it here. enjoy!

it's been... an hour i think? longer maybe? it's hard to tell. my head is spinning from her voice and the link, and her teasing smile is stamped on my brain. i barely process the technician walking into the room until he speaks.

"hey, you two ready for your sim? we have it all set up for you."

"oh of course, let's go pilot!"

"yeah, i'm ready!" yes ma'am wait. wait hey no fair! she's still in my head. she says she can't read my mind, that all she sees is a little window into what i'm feeling, but i don't know how much i believe her.

"alright, follow me."

we follow the technician down a brightly lit hallway lined with doors. one of them is open, and inside are a couple other technicians sitting around a table with a holoprojector in the center. off to the side is what looks like a metal seed, a few feet taller than me. its panels are open, revealing a seat angled such that it's more for leaning on than sitting in. the tech walking with us gestures to a chair, and my handler (miss oh shut up!) sits down.

"right. so, you're going to need to connect here"

he pulls a retracted cable out from a recess on the edge of the table. she takes it and pauses

"got it, do I just-"

"connect that cable to the port on your wrist and sit tight while we get your pilot prepped"

she's a little annoyed at being interrupted (how do i know that...?) but she doesn't show it.

"alright, easy enough"

he turns to me, already pointing to the giant seed thingy. as i turn away from my handler she gets... spiky? is she shaking? i can't tell what exactly i'm feeling but it's coming from her.

"great. pilot, come over here"

"am i going inside of that?" he's already walking, so i follow

"yep! don't worry it doesn't bite. it's just a sim pod."

"okay..." it's not as much that i'm scared as nervous. what if i screw something up...?

shhh, it's okay. you'll do fine. just relax.

i jump. i swear that was her voice, but it sounds... different.

hey, hey, calm down. sorry for startling you. we can communicate with the link, i assumed you knew that but i should have made sure before doing it.

what? wait, so i can just

talk to her?

there you are hun, isn't this nice?

so you can read my mind!

only when you let me~ and before you ask, i can feel that you're anxious. believe me, i am too, but we're gonna be fine.

so that's what that feeling was from before. anxiety. wait, is the technician talking to me? oh! gotta pay attention, right.

"...like a b-series cockpit without the rest of the mech, and the sensor data is faked by the simulation console. you'll get used to it, trust me."

"right, ok, so how do i-"

"arms on the arm rests, wrists in the rings, and sit on the seat. it's kinda awkward, it'll feel better once you close up the shell."

another pang of annoyance from my handler, this time with a protective streak to it. i lean onto the seat and slide my hands through the metal rings at the ends of the arm rests. i can feel something dangling behind my ear.

"i'm going to plug you in, look down for a second."

i do as he asks, and i can feel him plug the cable into the thumb-sized socket on my neck. as he does, the cockpit comes to life, and the rings tighten around my wrists. they feel like bracelets.

"great." he turns to one of the other techs "everything look good?"

the other tech nods and gives him a thumbs up. he turns back to me and smiles. "perfect. then you're ready! you can close the cockpit once you want to kick things off."

close the cockpit? how do i... wait. ok. i can feel... something. almost like a... handle? i'm not touching it and i can't see it but if i pull on it-

the cockpit doors slide up and slot into place in front of me. everything is black for several seconds, and then... woah...

"welcome to basic, pilot!" the voice is definitely the tech's, but it sounds... distorted. like it's coming over a radio. "before we do anything else, can you see?"

"i think so?" i can feel my handler nearby. she's happy, but tense. as i look around i start to register the space i'm in. i'm standing in the grass of a sunny meadow, with a tiny tree a couple dozen yards in front of me. or- wait... is it tiny or am i just... i look down. oh. that would explain it.

when i look down i don't see my body. well, i do, but it isn't the same body. or a real body at all. i'm currently a fifteen foot tall metal shell, shaped like a human but with wide legs and heavy arms.

i am inside of a mech. holy fucking shit i'm piloting a mech! a simulated one i guess, but still! my handler must feel my excitement because i can feel her voice over the link

there you go, took you a second huh? liking the new look?

oh my god yes are you kidding?

"yeah, i can see!"

"great. can you move your arms around? and try walking a few steps too. we need to make sure your connection is stable."

easy enough. i try to do some stretches but as my arms touch i feel what can only be described as the tactile version of nails on a chalk board.

note to self: mechs can't stretch.

i opt to just wave my arms at the tree instead. i walk towards it a few steps. it feels like i'm moving through honey, but i don't fall or stumble or otherwise struggle to balance.

"looking good. normally we would have engaged the neural stabilizer before passing through the sensors to your brain, but we wanted to give you a chance to process everything normally first. we do have to get that online now, though. fair warning, this will feel weird."

neural stabilizer? isn't that the implant that shuts off my..........

can you hear me pilot?

...yeah...

her voice is quieter. a bit spacey. hopefully that's normal and she isn't passing out. "should she sound so out of it?"

"yep, that's pretty common. she's fine. just don't ask her to do any math right now." the technician laughs. i don't. i'm genuinely worried about her... i know this is completely routine, but i needed to make sure she was safe. so long as she is, we're good.

alright hun, focus on my voice. stand up straight for me.

...okay...

i can see her mech straighten up over the holofeed. y'know what, she's kinda cute like this. i'm starting to get used to it, i think...

"paint the tree red and tell her to shoot it."

i wish the tech weren't so pushy. he seems bored. he needs to chill out. i reach out and drag a line from the red cube in front of me, floating just above the table, to the tree. it gets highlighted in bright red.

weapons free, pilot. shoot red targets.

this part feels natural. we covered the target painter in pre-basic, before i was assigned a pilot. she, presumably, was taught what the colors mean: red means kill it, yellow means it's not friendly but you can't kill it, blue means it's friendly, green means it's part of your unit. she hits the tree with a few plasma bolts while the technician watches, somewhat more interested than before.

"that's enough."

stand down pilot.

she stops shooting immediately. the tree sizzles and starts to fall before snapping back into place as one of the techs resets it.

we spend a couple of hours walking around, shooting trees and testing her reflexes. the techs spawn in a couple of tanks for her to shoot at, some soldiers for her to defend during a simulated evacuation, and a few different environments for her to walk through. we're mostly just helping her get used to the feeling of being in a mech. once things start shooting back at her, i can feel her getting scared, and i comfort her as she goes through the exercises.

calm down pilot. you're doing great. stay focused.

the techs seem impressed by the time they're done. she's stayed mostly calm, with my help, but i can't shake the feeling that we're only now getting to the most difficult part.

"alright, time for disco. tell her to stand by."

"right." i feel sick from the anxiety. they told us how awful pilots can feel after a disconnection, even if it's just a sim. i want her to be okay...

pilot, get ready to disconnect.

...oh...okay...

she has the same flat, dazed tone that she's had the entire time. i disconnect from the table and head over to the sim pod. the doors slide open, but she's still connected, not registering the real world around her. i step forward to catch her as the tech unplugs the cable from her neck.

...ready....oh god where's my handler where's-

she falls into my arms, breathing fast. i just hold her as she clings to me. i can feel how terrified she is. "hey, hey, you're safe, i've got you. you're okay."

"i'm okay..." i cling to her. when she says it like that i really do feel better. the ringing in my ears is quieting down and i can feel my breathing returning to normal, but i keep holding onto her.

do you want me to help you sit down, or would you prefer to just stand like this for now?

like this... please... ma'am...

alright, we can do that.

the tech gives me a pained half-smile of understanding.

"first disco is always rough. they'll get better. for you at least."

"not for her?" he just shrugs.

"here, i'll take you to the barracks, they've got a bed ready for you there. she should rest, or at least just lie down."

i'm going to start walking, just walk with me hun.

yeah...

she whimpers a bit out loud. hopefully her speech is coming back to her, but this works. i keep my arm around her waist as we walk to our bunk bed. there's a fold-out table attached to the lower bunk. i try to help her onto it and she lies down, tugging on my hand. i sit next to her and she rests her head in my lap.

"you did so so good hun. i'm so proud of you."

"th...thank you miss" i look up at her. she's smiling at me. she's still so pretty...