Not Gay Enough

what the fuck are these donations man

Source: abdul_rabby___

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

ok but affini plumblr would be absolutely unreadable. like the affini would only spend maybe 1% of their time Posting, and the rest would just be the most homosexual gushing about their florets imaginable. 99/100 posts are just "My floret is SO CUTE!!!!!" and pics of said florets staring into space on drugs or similar things

of the 1% of posts that aren't this, it's probably like, the affini equivalent to hypnosis blogs where they post induction scripts designed to bait independents who read them into interacting, and then they eventually get goaded into DMs; at which point it's over for them

also there are a few digitized affini who are the compact equivalent of dril and they produce the best content you've ever seen every half a second. they get 3094872039487 reblogs on every post and each hornypost they make gets a dozen independents domesticated via a reblog chain, plus if you interact with them they just start turning up inside of your pc to flirt with you

Python installed successfully 🐍😎

The opposite of “manic pixie dream girl” is “depressed goblin nightmare man,” and, judging by this site, it’s just as attractive to some.

People have been asking about the ketsnake so I shall elaborate fully.

That incident was... possibly the funniest mistake the think tank has made since the black throne incident.

Due to a workplace accident, someone's pet snake got chucked into what amounts to the blinkspace equivalent of a particle collider (Three sunzis can make an acceleration loop, to give you an idea of the bullshit we were doing)

By some cosmic coincidence that thing survived. We were 60% sure it was sheer, astronomical, dumb luck that kept its atoms roughly the same.

Roughly.

It came out with an intellect several times that of a shackled NHP, let alone a human. But it was still an animal and cared only for animal things - theoretically we could have taught it to speak but the thing only ever used its hyperdense neurons to do shit like open its food container early.

I will reiterate, by all rights it should have been lost to the blink or had its atoms scrambled, and the most likely explanation we could come up with is that its atoms were rearranged back into the snake shape by sheer fucking coincidence.

Naturally the armoury put together a small but experienced team to study this surprisingly boring miracle. It was a few steps from lowest priority because to them because it just. was. not. useful. Buuuuut it was interesting.

So they scanned it and sent the data to the think tank for simulations. We said what in less cascade-ey terms amonuted to "Give it a cocktail of drugs, It will trip and see the world like you do."

So they did.

Our simulations predicited that it would respond to ketamine as one would expect. That was the first step among many.

Some poor fucker (JOSH) didn't feed it chemically pure Ket as we specifically requested.

IT DID NOT RESPOND NORMALLY TO IMPURITIES IN THE KETAMINE.

Suffice to say, several people were hospitalised and the lab was destroyed, the ketamine snake is presumably floating somewhere in space waiting to cause problems, and our caskets were covered in various organic fluids, candy, residue from what might have been the oldest unopened wine collection in the purview, and what I'm fairly certain was someone's hair gel.

For what are probably enkidu related reasons my memories regarding the armoury's exploration into drugs is roughly just what the public knows and a few prototypes, but the ketsnake, apparrently, is firmly lodged into my memory. So enjoy, good omninet. And weep, for it may come for you.

Reminder to take very good care of yourself! You are not a robot, and even if you were, you'd need a break sometimes 💚