My horny ass could NOT be the sole mechanic for a mech, alone in the repair bay, talking to the mech’s AI core, discussing the harsh reality of the war we’ve found ourselves in. Me discussing my mortality, the 50ft entity I’ve spent the last several years learning the intricacies of and is fully aware of the fact that as a tool of war it’ll either die in battle or end up abandoned as it’s systems all fail until emergency back-up power keeps it awake for possibly thousands of years. We talk about how neither of us has felt a connection between ourselves and anything else worth dying for like that, except maybe… Well, the rest of the base has almost certainly gone to sleep by now. The cockpit clicks shut with a soft “click” and I. I mean uh, I forgot where I was going with this.
Apparently I’ve struck a chord with the giant robot fucker fandom
theres not a single fucking program id want to run on startup. as soon as i turn on my computer i want quiet silence to stare at my desktop wallpaper for a bit. if anythint else pops up im shooting it on sight
i dont think you guys understand how hard it can be to sell furniture in new jersey. this can so easily lead to blackmailing your wife’s friends which catalyzes your wife killing her boyfriend and all of them joining a cult while your teen daughter tries to blackmail a cop. like this happens all the time. it was the strawberry lube, wasn’t it? it can be so hard to sell furniture.
