#handheld prey

[wholegrainvore]

this super hot stud is devouring mouthwatering bunnygirls and basically, you are fucking stupid

@grantairevore

[front-facing-pokemon]

[lookbluesoup]

Miqo'te Headcanons

i.e. all the ways my ocs regularly act like cats.

Climb things. Sit on top of bookshelves and dressers and pillars and tables.

Squeezing through tiny spaces it doesn't seem like they should be able to actually fit in.

Liquid bones. How are you even contorted like that??

Nap in a sunny spot. Nap a lot. Nap anywhere.

Cheek rubs, head bunts, touch noses, and tail-wraps to say hello to beloved friends.

Grooming. Straight up licking instead of just kissing (tho they can kiss too ofc)

Kneading with little biscuit hands.

Strong sense of smell and hearing - makes them good at recognizing people's moods & reading body language (heart rate changes, hormone levels, etc)

Walk ahead of friends and then just stop and turn around mid-stride, causing accidents.

Swat things off tables.

Scratching furniture when worked up... usually absentmindedly. (Miqo'te 'stress ball' is actually just something handheld they can drag their claws over without wrecking the furniture)

Extremely drawn to movement. High prey drive.

Play ambushing. Play fighting. Play chasing.

Investigate what friends are doing. They're in your space. They're helping. Pay attention to them.

Mirroring. They'll start imitating friends' body language so fast.

Silly eyes (even for Sun Seekers!)

Airplane ears and tail whips when grumpy.

Hair/fur fluffs up like Ghibli character when excited or scared.

Hissing, growling, purring, chirping.

Also kekekekeke'ing when there's something they want to hunt and can't reach.

Startling them might get a miqo'te stuck to your ceiling or backflipping into all your furniture.

Angry Miqo'te can intimidate and chase off much larger creatures just by fluffing up and yowling and being Big Mad.

Allowing tummy pets/rubs/touches is a BIG display of trust.

Bringing food to friends bc they looked hungry. Stealing food from friends bc it looked tasty.

[luxudus]

An art piece i made about 2 months ago but never got around to posting it. This was the final project for my school's art class in which we had to make a triptych

    In a distant galaxy that glows a faint turquoise lies a remarkable world named Iia’Oo-uo. A tropical water world larger than Earth orbiting three suns. It is home to a menagerie of strange alien forms. The line between Plant and animal life is often very blurred. Photosynthetic life comes in shades of red, purple, yellow, and pink. Colonial organisms flourish everywhere. And radial symmetry is far more common on Iia’Oo-uo than on Earth. One such group consists of Arthropod-like organisms with eight limbs for locomotion and respiration, two antennae, six eyes, and six oral tendrils akin to the Portuguese man of war.

    One such species from that phylum has made a remarkable adaptation. One that changed the course of history forever, Sapience. Referring to their people as the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo, They are a species of four-foot-long Arthropod-like predators that take on a mix of niches. But are most known for filling a role not too similar to Dolphins.

    Their oral tendrils have become strong and more flexible. Aiding in catching prey and crafting tools akin to the tentacles of an octopus. They take on a vibrant shade of magenta to identify each other in the open water. And unlike most of the other alien arthropods of their world. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo rarely use their front six limbs, only using them to hook onto the seafloor. They mostly use their rear limbs as a set of fins for swimming.

    The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo are very agile swimmers. They are capable of changing between 3 different methods of aquatic locomotion. When relaxing the muscles in their entire body, they can perform Anguilliform swimming akin to eels. By stiffening muscles in the front half of their body, they can switch to a mix of Subcarangiform or Carangiform swimming akin to Trout. By tightening the muscles in their entire body, they can even switch to Median-paired fin swimming, akin to many fish native to coral reefs.

    Yet despite their alien appearance, they think and act like us. They enjoy art and music and feel empathy for one another. With the lack of predators, their love and curiosity far outweighs their fear. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo may not be human, but they capture what it means to be human.

    The biggest challenge with starting a civilization underwater is the impossibility of fire and metallurgy. Where most intelligent species either stagnate or die out. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo prevail through selective breeding and genetic engineering. Throughout their history, they have learned to modify the life around them into tools and technology.

    Coral analogs are grown into vast cities. Color-changing invertebrates bred into handheld screens. And Radio communicating hives of small alien cnidarians become the backbone of the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo Internet. Life and its protection and mastery is a focal point of Uueia-Ouoo-Oo culture. Within 20 thousand years, they reshaped their entire planet in their image and created a paradise. But this is just the beginning.

    Once they conquered their world, their eyes turned skyward to explore the heavens. It took over millennia to find out how to do it. Nonetheless, the Uueia-Ouoo-Oo still prevailed. They came to the idea of growing vacuum-sealed organisms capable of photosynthesis and omnidirectional jet propulsion. Chromatophores cover the interior, changing color to match what this bioship sees. Along with a tendril connected to its nervous system, allowing the pilot to insert the tendril into their head, effectively becoming one with the ship.

    Lastly, they somehow learned how to create artificial wormholes, allowing the bioship to teleport anywhere in the universe. They explored the heavens with an unmatched fervor. Surveying millions of galaxies, every star within those galaxies, and every planet around those stars. All the while, they expanded at a similar pace, reshaping dead worlds into ocean worlds as beautiful as their homeworld and protecting the worlds that evolved their own alien ecosystems.

    One day, during a galaxy-wide survey, they found a unique world amongst an 8-planet star system. Like millions of other worlds, this planet had life. But it had something else. One species in this world became sapient and developed a planet-wide civilization. The Uueia-Ouoo-Oo had never seen this before, and they were eager at this discovery.

    Here 3 Uueia-Ouoo-Oo celebrate the discovery before their expeditionary fleet heads through the wormhole. Ready to venture to this world the natives call Earth.

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #86

An open world survival game set in a desolate world where the only food and resources left grow on colossal kaiju beasts (imagine Godzilla with a forest on its back. Also, I know what you must be thinking: wait, if it's a desolate world what do kaijus eat? Well, they get their energy from the sun and sometimes if they get a craving they eat other kaijus). After a kaiju dies, the resources they were sustaining quickly degrade, so the best bet is to harvest resources from live kaijus. The best way to do this is to climb the kaijus, since their skin is thick enough not to notice a thing. No two climbs will ever present the same challenges, since there are many types of kaijus, and you never know what might happen: it could start raining, or some of the creatures living on the kaiju might see you as easy prey and attack you, or the kaiju could decide to run, sit, sleep, or even fight or fuck another kaiju. Once you manage to climb on top of the kaiju, you'll need to gather resources: wood, fruit, plants, flowers, mushrooms... instead of forests, some kaijus might have rocky formations full of metals and minerals on their backs, or other types of biomes. The only animals that are still alive on this world also live on the kaijus, so if you feel like hunting, you can also take out your bow and arrow or your handheld weapon and get some fresh meat or hides. Once you're done gathering resources, you can take out your glider and fly off to safety... although, in a world populated by kaijus that love to fight each other, safety is always relative.

Similar media that actually exists: The Wandering Village (a game suggested by @thebazilly), The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi (the book that partially inspired this post)

[mutant-distraction]

Moses

Robber fly with its prey (2022)

Canon 77D, manual handheld focus stack of 21

[subwaysurf45]

The Time of the Prey (4)

Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting, and it seems targets are being made.

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: angst, advancements in the war, issues between James and Y/N, crying, yelling, kidnaping, mentions of war

Series Masterlist      II      Series Playlist

It was becoming a habit of walking barefoot; you loved the way the blades of grass felt when you stood and painted but you also loved feeling like a child again as you ran the corridors without the tight shoes. 

Natasha wanted to start training herself for wearing a corset which meant you had to do it too, getting it tied every morning in her chambers, holding her hand as the two of you tried your best to breathe after they sinched it tightly. There would be times when you’d forget you were wearing one and take a deep breath, letting out a loud groan when your ribs would send a shock throughout your body. 

You stood beside your sister and looked into the mirror, two maids were pulling and tugging against the strings as you both braced yourself. Your mother sat behind you, watching intently to make sure they did a good job. 

“Hold my hand,” Natasha wheezed out, you quickly reached over and took her hand into your own. “Is it supposed to be this tight?” 

“Yes,” your mother said flatly, she didn’t even need to get up and walk over to check, she just knew. 

As the strings tightened you both wheezed, trying not to move too much. 

“These will stay tight for way longer than other corsets,” one maid said, “there are these plants native to our kingdom, their wax is used to keep the string tight, no one knows about it.” 

“Very interesting,” you managed to groan out. 

“The more you move the higher the chance we’ll tie it in the wrong spot, and your ribs will hurt all day,” she paused, “don’t move or talk.” a laugh came from behind you, it was your mother. 

When everything was done your head felt light, you wobbled off the pedestal and slowly made your way to the door, planning to go back to your room. Natasha kissed your cheek goodbye and walked you to her door, leaving you to walk to your chamber. 

One handheld the wall as you walked down the corridor, you could feel yourself spinning. 

“Lady Y/N,” the all too familiar voice came from behind you. 

“James,” you turned around with a smile, glad to see a friend, “how are-” 

“What are you doing here?” he asked quickly, “where are your escorts?” he linked his arm with you and began to walk you down the hall, “Lady Y/N, you need guards with you at all times, where were you coming from?” 

“James,” you whispered and grabbed his forearm, “what has got you all worried?” 

He just looked at you, “you need guards at all times, and I would like to know where you were to figure out who was supposed to be there to walk you back to your room,” he stood and made you face him. 

“I was with my sister in her room,” you said with some tone, “pleasure to see you too, Ser James,” you shook his arm off and walked away, but couldn’t get that far because walking with a corset is completely different than your normal stride. 

“Lady Y/N,” he was quick to catch up with you, “why are you walking all…” he trailed off and hoped you caught on to what he was saying. 

“I told you yesterday I was starting to wear corsets with my sister,” you paused for a moment, “James, were you even listening to me yesterday?” you had gone for a long walk with him outside the castle walls.

“I-...” he shook his head, “I was not, my apologies.” 

“Well, I was at my sisters, and I put on my corset for the first time, and it’s hard to walk and I don’t know who was supposed to walk me to my room,” you paused again, waiting to see if he had something to say, but he didn’t. “You can walk me back to my room.” 

“I will,” he stepped forward and began walking at your pace. 

Without any reason there were more guards outside your door, whenever you’d try to leave all four of them would ask you questions and follow you. It looked like you were a queen, you had two in front of you and two behind, you had never gotten this much attention or protection in your life. As much as you wanted to view that as a good thing you knew the only reason there were more guards was that there must be advancement with the war. 

James was nowhere to be found, you’d ask around and call from him to come to your chambers, but he’d never come, you’d sit in your room and hope he’d stop by for a moment. You hadn’t seen your mother or sister either, just hearing what they were doing while you felt more trapped in your room. They were planning for the wedding which meant leaving the castle walls, you had heard they were spending all day outside in the sun. 

You sat by your vanity and looked in the mirror, trying to catch your reflection by making faces and throwing your arms around but it always copied. You looked like a child but there was nothing else for you to do. 

“Princess Y/N,” a voice came from your door, and you knew it wasn’t James from the title, “may I enter?” 

“You may,” you stood up and faced the door, watching the man walk in with all your art supplies from outside, “stop!” you screamed, running towards him, “these aren’t dry…” you ripped the canvas from under his arm and looked at the smudged work, your eyes slowly scanned his body and saw paint smeared on his ribs and fingers. “Do you have any idea how long this took?” you were furious, “I spent forever on this, and you treated it like waste!” in disbelief you looked at the ruined art, there was no way you could save it, you needed to start again. “Get me Ser James,” your teeth were clenched together. 

“I-I’m sorry, Princess, he’s busy-”

“Tell him I need him here now and tell him I’m furious with him,” you stepped closer to threaten the knight, it was not a physical threat but a social one, you were a Princess, he was a Knight.

“Right away,” he scattered for a moment before running out of your room. 

When it was silent again you looked at your work, gently running your fingers down the canvas and further smudging everything, there was no point in trying to preserve it. Carrying the canvas nicely would not have been difficult, checking if it was dry would not have been difficult either. If James was the one carrying it he wouldn’t have let anyone near him, afraid it might smudge. 

But all your work was completely wasted, you were back to being a guest at the castle for your sister’s wedding, you were back to not having anything to do anymore because you were stuck in the room and your favourite piece was ruined. Tears gathered in your eyes as everything you were working towards was ripped to shred in your hand, this could have been avoidable. 

“You wanted to-” James had started speaking before rounding the corner, your door was left open. His eyes were wide as he watched you cry in front of him, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping your canvas. 

“Why didn’t you get the canvas?” The anger managed to cut through the tears. 

“I was busy and, in a meeting,” he spoke softly, his hand out in front of him as he walked towards you, “I sent one of my best men to grab your supplies.” 

“Well, your best man walked with my canvas under his arm,” you flipped the painting to face him, you watched as shock spread all over his face as his eyes travelled to every corner of your art, seeing the damage it took. “It wasn’t dry,” more tears gathered, “why didn’t you get it?” 

“I’m so sorry,” he took the painting and placed it on the floor beside you, taking his hands and placing them on your shoulders, “I am so sorry, Y/N,” he couldn’t hug you unless you initiated it, you stood there and cried as he watched helplessly. “Please don’t cry,” his voice sounded so hurt, “please, please don’t,” his hand reached out but hesitated, you nodded softly, and he began swiping away the tears. 

Your eyes cracked open to see his face, he looked distraught and saddened as well. His face was sunken in and the bags under his eyes were larger than before, the skin that always glowed looked dull to you, but maybe it was the light. Though he wiped away tears, it seemed they seeped into his skin and collected in his eyes, the tiredness and exhaustion taking a toll on him. 

“I cannot believe my work is ruined,” you spoke through sobs, “why didn’t you get it…?” you stood shaking your head, trying to push down all the anger coursing through your body, “why didn’t you get it!” you screamed up at his face, watching him blink as his head jerked away. 

“Lady-”

“Why, why, why!” your fists pounded his chest, “this is all I have, my hands and my work, I am nothing without something to show for myself, do you get that?” you pushed him away and paced around the room, “I paint out of spite,” your words bite him, “I paint because I love it and because my father told me to stop all those years ago, I paint because without it I am more suitable for a marriage and I can’t have that.”

“Take a few days and start over,” James said as he stepped even closer, “I’m sure inspiration will hit you soon enough.” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” you rubbed your face, “that pond had meaning to me, I’ve been doing this so long I need to be inspired to paint and it doesn’t come that easy.” 

“Y/N,” he started but broke off into a sigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was going to happen and I didn't know he was going to be so careless,” his hand took your wrist and pulled you a little closer to him once he walked towards you, “and I can promise you, you are more than a painter, you do not need a hobby to block you from being betrothed, you do not need to worry about anything because that’s my job.” You just nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying even more. “There are things happening regarding the war, we are currently sitting at the tipping point and all kingdoms are waiting for another to give someone a shove.” 

“Is that why I’ve been trapped here?” you asked, looking down at the way he was holding you. 

“I ordered you to have more guards, I am the one who is keeping you from going outside and I am sorry but at the same time I am not,” he shook his head, “I care a great deal about you, Y/N.” 

“Me too,” you nodded and looked up at his eyes, your gaze flicking down to his lips. 

“I am sorry if you feel trapped or unwelcome, I am sorry that I ruined your painting and I’m sorry for not coming when you have sent people for me,” his adam’s apple bobbled when he swallowed, “the war has added so much stress onto me I needed to make sure all the other things I worry about were safe and in my control, so I need to keep you in your room so I knew where you were all the time which lets me do my job without freaking out and wondering if you are at the pond or in your room or walking around the market- I needed it in my control.” 

“I understand,” his hand was still holding your wrist, but it loosened when the hand he was holding moved to cup his cheek, “I would do the same.” 

A breath of relief pushed through his lips, “thank you, I’ve felt so horrible about myself because I keep forgetting to come when you call for me-”

“I understand,” your thumb moved to his lips, seeing it tremble slightly, “you don’t need to apologize.” he took a shaky breath in with a nod. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed your face into his shoulder, allowing him to embrace you back. Through the corset you could feel him hold you tightly, further constricting your breathing, you really didn’t care. His hands would press so hard they move up your back until there was nowhere for them to go so he would placed them at the curve of your spine and restart to process of hugging you, after a while one hand moved up to the back of your head and cradled you as a few more tears slipped from your lashes, feeling his warmth was new to you. 

“I like holding you,” he whispered, his ears dancing against the shell of your ear. 

“I like it when you hold me,” your voice was muffled by his padded tunic. 

James left soon after, promising after all of the planning was over he’d spend much more time with you. Once he left you were feeling better, as much as you hated the man who ruined your painting you also knew something would spark you again and you weren’t completely useless. 

Instead of picking up a brush you found a quail in your vanity as well as a jar of ink, it had been a long time since your last writing lesson, it was expected that all royalty could write, read, and have pretty penmanship. Writing and reading was easy but sometimes all these words that flowed out of your hand couldn’t keep up which led you to make mistakes and have really bad handwriting. 

My Dearest, Bucky,

I have never met a man like you before and I wish I’ll never meet someone like you again. 

If I were to meet someone as charming and as caring as you I’d probably fall in love with them as I have with you and that would be too confusing; though I believe I’d choose you because of the way your hair flows when I see you running drills with the knights. I sound like a little girl but that is how you make me feel; young and blissful. 

I am writing this after I told you about what happened with my painting, I cried in your arms and you held me in such a way I felt as though you could protect me from anything, I have never felt truly protected in my life. I can’t help but feel greedy, I want you to hold me more often even though it is frowned upon because we are not courting and I do not know if knights area allowed to court women, I hope you are because I’d marry you. I’ve never thought about someone like before, you have opened up my eyes to love from a man, I’ve never felt that before. 

I hope when you read this you will run down the halls and find me, maybe calling my name like the stories say, I am not one to like bedtime stories and being saved by a knight in shinning armour but it would be romantic for you to sweep me off the ground. 

I don’t know when I’ll give you this letter because I do not know if you feel the same or are allowed to feel the same, I do not want to be a rule you break. When the time is right I’ll slide this under your door and run away, not too far so you can find me but far enough to not see your immediate reaction. 

I do not know how to end this letter, just know I love the way you held me. 

Love, Lady Y/N.

Your hands fanned the paper and gently tapped a few letters to see if it was dry, once your finger came back without any ink on it you tucked it safely between the front page and the cover of the only book in your vanity drawer. Gently pushing it shut as your face grew warm, like you said in the letter; you felt like a little girl. 

“I should go see Natasha,” you whispered to yourself, taking one look in the mirror and fixing the painful corset that hugged your waist into an exaggerated shape. You were looking forward to her wedding so you could take the corset off and finally be able to breathe freely. When you opened the door there were four guards standing there, “hello,” you smiled at all of them. 

“Where are you going?” one asked, stepping forward and tilting his head to the side. 

“To see my sister,” you looked over your shoulder to see the eyes of the man that talked, “I haven’t met you before, I normally know all the faces of the men outside my door.” 

“I was moved here on Ser James’ order,” he said quickly, “your sister has twelve guards around her door and surrounding her all the time, Prince Steve’s order.” 

“I see,” you nodded and clasped your hands in front of your restricted stomach, “is there any new news on the war, it seems things have really stiffened up here?” you looked around to see guards everywhere. 

“I am afraid I cannot discuss war with you, forgive me,” he nodded, “I do not know if you can see your sister-”

“I’m sure James will not-”

“No,” he cut you off, “not just James, the crown has ordered all non-essential meetings to be postponed, the only gathering that is allowed to take place are meetings in the war room.” 

“What does the war room look like?” you asked, leaned up against the wall and crossed your arms, the guards gave you a weird look, “well, if I can’t talk to me sister then I will talk to you because it seems we are prisoners, aren’t we?” 

“Fine,” the man sighed, “but Ser James will have my head if he-”

“Oh,” you waved your hand, “I will keep you from trouble, he’s a very good friend and he’ll understand.” 

“I’ll go with you,” another man stepped up, leaving two guards with you and two to watch the empty room. 

“Great,” you smiled at the both of them and walked between them as they navigated the halls. When you passed the courtyard your heart twisted at how empty it was, the castle’s gates were closed and people needed to stay in their home in case a fight broke out randomly. 

When you looked forward, the man who was leading you had not turned to face you, his arms by his side and his eyes set on you. A chill ran down your back and the hairs on your neck stood up, you felt a presence behind you. When you looked over your shoulder the other guard towered over you, a bag in his hands. When your mouth opened the man behind you quickly covered your mouth and nose, leaning down to your ear. 

“If you scream I’ll slit your throat in the hallway,” his lips were also moving against the shell of your ear but this time you tried to move away but his hold on you was stronger, “if you run away, I’ll find you and then slit your throat, do you understand?” 

All you could do was nod and let out a muffed agreement, you wanted to live. The bag was placed over your head and all at once you were lifted off the ground, the two men who were holding you ran and then stopped, you felt the cold tile against your bare arms and then something fuzzy around you, it was being wrapped around you which only further cut off your breathing. 

********

Ser James stood at the front of the table, Prince Steve at his side as they discussed the new advancement with the war, Hydra’s Hill was beginning to get restless, and the rest of the kingdoms were well aware of it. James’ hands pressed against the wood as he leaned forward listening to his men talk about what was to come. 

The room was massive, almost the same size as the common area in the front of the kingdom. Kings and Queens that are over centuries old sat on the wall, still and painted beautifully. The family had painted all royalty for years, the gene of perfect skill passed on no matter what. 

Firewood glowed from the fireplace, there was no need for a fire at this point in the year, but the fire never truly went out, there was always something burning. The long table was carved with a map on the land, there was a flat border around the edge so men could leave their food or drink on the table without worrying if it would tip over on the fire piece of wood.  

“We intercepted a pigeon going from Hydra’s Hill to Red River, they sent their list and obviously Red River will not comply,” the man with a long beard leaned back in his seat. 

“What did they ask for?” James asked. 

“We quickly took a copy of it,” he passed it down the table, James took it and read, “of course it was way too much.” 

“A bride, food supply, weapons…” James re-read the letter, “I mean this is out of a children’s story, they could have been more creative than this,” he earned a laugh from the entire room. 

All at once the doors opened and every man looked towards the sound, there were two nights that James recognized. “This better be good we’re in the middle of a meeting,” James looked around the group of men who were confused by the intrusion. 

“S-ser, Princess Y/N,” they tried to catch their breath, “she’s been taken.” 

For a moment it was silent.

Then a loud bang came from the head of the table, Ser James had pounded his fist so hard a splinter now ran through a small part of the wood, “WHAT?!” James screamed from the head of the table, almost thinking it was a joke, but it wasn’t from the way two guards were standing, shaking. 

“Th-there were two guards who offered to walk her to your chambers, but they never came back, and we don’t know where she is…” one of the two stepped up to offer an explanation, but the man at the table and James was having none of it. 

“You’re telling me the only job you had… you failed?” James walked around the table and sized up the men, “I put you on her watch because I thought you were two of the best guards in the kingdom,” James looked at the man who was avoiding eye contact, “do you take me as a fucking fool?” he spat. 

“N-no, Ser James.” 

“Enough with the pleasantries,” James waved his hand, “we are planning an attack that was going to happen in a fortnight, not this evening but look where we are, huh?” James turned to the table of men, they all were on their feet, “get the horses ready and get the people secured.” 

James barked orders at the men, pointing and shouting, new knights were running and out, getting orders and moving quickly to fulfill them. 

“What can we do?” one of the guards spoke up, his voice was shaking as he saw the way James looked at them in disgust. 

“Nothing,” James stood right in front of the men, their noses almost touching, “but I’d like to wish you congratulations.” He began to walk away, not having time for them. 

“Wh-why?” They spoke at the same time. 

James was about to leave the room but stopped, turning around and shaking his head, “congratulations,” men ran in and out of the room, “you have just started a war.” 

NEXT EPSIODE 

Taglist: tag list: @maybeimart @imtherain @jackiehollanderr @redneckstrash @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksanddrinkingtea-blog​ @linzc-reader @honeybunchesofbucky​ @sky0405 @striving4averagegirl @seybox @yaszx @happyt0exist @honeybunchesofbucky @munsonette @searchf0rtheskyline @aya-fay @emi11ie @prettywhenicry4 @theluvcafe @whatsmylaneagain @sparkletash @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @namelesssav @daydreaming-lightly @desert-fern @wbyss @crazy4seb-chris​ @death-sonata​

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[handoverthekawaii]

We Go Together | Homelander x You | Chapter 18

Taglist: @hom3landr @theaudacitytowrite @lover1307

TW: This chapter implies that Madelyn Stillwell has preyed on (gr**med) Homelander sexually.

Your senses begin to return long before you’re able to open your eyes. It feels cold, and the air is filled with an antiseptic, hospital smell. Your clothing feels strange, too, coarse and unfamiliar — when you stir slightly, you realize that instead of the clothes you put on this morning, you are now wearing some sort of medical gown.

You want to rub your eyes but, when you try, you feel metal cuffs holding your wrists in place above your head. Your ankles are restrained too, you realize, and the surface beneath your prone body isn’t a hospital bed — it’s an exam table.

It’s all starting to come back to you now — Vogelbaum’s revelations, the realization that you needed to resign from Vought for your own safety. The darts piercing your skin. The paralysis, the rushing in your ears and the wave of blackness that overtook your sight.

You manage to force your eyes open, although at first you’re blinded by the sterile array of fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Once your vision adjusts, you are able to take in the room where you’re being held, the metal door and white walls. With a shiver, you realize how similar this place is to the Bad Room from John’s memories.

This is bad, you realize. This is really fucking bad.

The cameras trained on you from every angle must have shown that you are awake because, a few minutes later, the door opens and a group of people file into your cell. There are heavily armed guards, scientists in white lab coats holding clipboards… and one face you recognize immediately.

“Good morning, my little trespasser,” says Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum. “I trust you rested well?”

So he knew I was there with John last night, you think to yourself. And that means he’s probably figured out exactly who I am — which means there’s no reason to try and hide it.

“Better than you,” you respond venomously. “I don’t torture people all day every day, and silence anybody who asks too many questions. How do you sleep at night after a long day of committing crimes against humanity?”

“I sleep great,” Vogelbaum tells you, his voice placid but with a mocking undertone. “As long as no one wakes me up to play a game of Twenty Questions, like you and Homelander did last night.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you demand. “I had a right to know!”

Vogelbaum opens his mouth to answer, but before he can speak a different voice — a familiar voice — rings out behind you: “On the contrary, Miss L/N — Vought International had a right to know about you.”

One of the scientists lifts up a handheld remote and presses a few buttons. The exam table begins to rotate away from the door and towards the opposite wall. You see the wall panels opening up to reveal a screen, on which you see — who else? — a webcam view of Madelyn Stillwell. She’s seated comfortably in her office, leaning back in her chair slightly as she gazes at you through her vantage point on the wall above.

“Of course, we looked for you after your father’s disappearance,” Stillwell says, “but over time, it became less and less of a priority. Until, that is, you threw yourself right back into our laps.”

“You could have just lived a normal life,” she continues. “But you just had to come back, you had to know the whole story — and you wouldn’t stop until you contaminated our most valuable asset.”

“John is not a product! He is A PERSON!” you shout. “What the FUCK is wrong with all of you?!” [continued on AO3]

[pokeglitchden]

[VIDEO IS UPLOADED DATED 7/24/23 AT 1:06 PM

Video footage is from a handheld camera, clearly being concealed, as it is focused on nothing, tilted towards the ground as it follows a long, dirt path. It seems like they are somewhere in Johto.

It's the sound that first betrays that something is wrong. A low humming that doesn't at all resemble the static of data corruption. After a moment, the camera stops moving forward. A second set of footsteps seems to come to a stop directly after the first. There's some shuffling from the tall grass.

Very abruptly the camera swings around and there is the sound of a Pokeball bursting open. The pokemon that is sent out in question causes a bizarre pattern of static that takes up almost half the screen with a blocky mess. From behind the visual corruption, a Haunter can be seen half obscured by the tall grass.

"Rascal, Mean Look!" Simon shouts, directing the attack at the Haunter.

There is a moment of utter confusion. The Haunter seems uncertain as to what to do now. It was clearly not hunting Simon as prey in fact it looks...

A bit like it has the eyes of a Drowzee.

"You can stop hiding." Simon states, seeming to speak to no one in particular, "And stop following me."

It is as if the young woman who steps out of the brush appeared from the shadows themselves. She is exceedingly pale, and her face is framed by long, deep black hair. She is wearing the dark garb of a Team Enigma member, with its signature stylized E emblem emblazoned on her arm.

She smiles a wide, unnerving smile that does not reach her eyes.

"Are you sure you want that, Simon?" She asks, "Or is it a fight you're asking for?"

There is an angry trilling sound that comes from within the static that's still obscuring half the screen. Rascal sounds like it's getting agitated, but Simon backs down.

"What were you following me for?" He asks, ignoring her questions, "How long have you been doing this?"

She just continues to smile.

"Haunter, hypnosis!" She commands.

"Shoot!"

The camera pans wildly again as Simon takes off in the opposite direction. He seems to pull away from his pursuer after a few moments, turning a corner, and as he does the video feed slowly is overcome with static and ultimately cuts out.

END OF VIDEO FEED]

I am unhamed after this incident, but I'll admit I'm shaken. I expect Team Enigma has been following me, attempting to catch me performing the Clip.

Or perhaps for something else.

I am not sure what happened to the rest of the footage. I had meant to keep the camera rolling until I got back to Hoenn, but it seems most of the rest was lost. Luckily the flight was uneventful.

I.. know I am not meant to be flying solo still. But I feel this warranted it. And I am fine.

I am trying right now to decide what to do about this. I'm terrified to think about what might have happened if that Hypnosis attack had connected. Rascal won the day for me today I think.

I do not think I will be traveling much for some time after this.

-Simon

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

Mag 56

Well! I had to skip several days of AMAD because my birthday was on the 14th and I had to deal with a... mannequin situation? That spiraled out of control for a few days, so now I'm playing catch up.

And while I was gone, apparently Jon has shifted back to S1 'fussy academic who is mad at Martin' mode. Happy birthday <3

This is further evidence for my theory that vampires are creatures of the Hunt whose primary purpose is to create new Hunters by becoming their prey. The Hunt has always had an ouroborus aspect to it, it makes sense to me that different avatars of this Entity only exist to feed on each other.

Jon was right to say that Trevor has had a hard life. All the years (decades?) of, to the best of his knowledge, singlehandedly protecting people from the only supernatural threat in existence, mankind's only predator, and the entire time he did with no evidence that he wasn't just insane.

Cannot possibly put enough emphasis on the fact that the Hunt is more addictive than heroin. This has massive ramifications for Daisy and Jon's arcs in S4.

Fucking hell, a hammer is such a brutal weapon. All the savagery of a blunt force weapon like a bat or a crowbar (or a pipe) but handheld, so used at a far more intimate range. Adding the impulsiveness of running through the door because he can't stand the thought of losing his prey, I'm reading this as evidence that Trevor is far enough gone that he's basically lost to the Hunt.

But not so far gone that he's stopped being able to tell the difference between his true prey and random bystanders. Yet. He's at least still capable of feeling guilt over getting them confused.

More evidence for the 'vampires are werewolf training fodder' theory.

The difference between Jon and Trevor is stark. Jon has an encounter with a supernatural threat and sees it as an entrypoint to a whole world of horrors that he needs to learn more about. Trevor has an encounter with a supernatural threat and sees it with a single singleminded focus that leads to him needing to eradicate it. The Eye vs the Hunt.

[antilocaprine]

23, Frenrey?

(Kiss Prompt List)

(I'm stealing the 90's cryptid-hunting AU from @melonsharks for this because I got An Image in my head and had to run with it. There are over 2k words under the cut.)

23: …in relief

“Okay, this looks like the right spot,” Gordon murmurs. The old house is pitch dark even though the power’s still technically connected. Gordon says it’s more authentic to have the lights off when he’s hunting whatever creature of the night he's heard rumors about that week.

“Why’s that?” Benrey’s got his hands in his pockets, because while he doesn’t know whatever Gordon thinks might be in here, Benrey knows it’s a wraith. He can feel its presence tingling on the back of his neck, and his fingers have already curled into claws in reflex. Wraiths are predators, and Benrey’s never been very good at being prey.

“Look at the readings,” Gordon says, tilting the screen of his current handheld machine toward Benrey, who bends his head obligingly to look. Sure enough, the little ticker arm is bouncing between the yellow and red on the right-hand side of the little colored arch behind the window, and it’s emitting a merry series of clicks and chirps.

“That’s…sure is some readings,” Benrey says. Gordon huffs and pulls the machine back.

“Just keep an eye out for anything weird,” he says, and moves carefully away across the creaky floor. Benrey rolls his eyes at him, even as he tightens his claws into fists.

They’re on the third level, because of course this creepy old house has three levels. This used to be the master bedroom, and there’s still an old bedframe in the room, but no mattress. A wooden dresser with two busted drawers is against one wall, and one of those fancy old desks with a rollover top is against another wall. Both sides of the bedframe have little bedside tables, but one of them is tipped over and the other has no drawers, just empty space gaping like a mouth, the shadows looking darker in the glow of Gordon’s flashlight.

Benrey has a flashlight, too, but he doesn’t need it. It’s a good excuse to stick close to Gordon, sharing his warmth and his enthusiasm and maybe, sometimes, spooking him by whispering directly in his ear from behind. He always jumps a foot in the air and swears colorfully, and it’s the most reliable fun Benrey’s had in a century.

He hasn’t told Gordon about the whole…not-human thing. It took him a week to figure out how to get Gordon’s little machines to stop screeching whenever he got within ten feet of them, and now that he has, he’s been enjoying fulfilling the role of the skeptic to Gordon’s believer on his ghost hunts.

It’s not always even ghosts - last month Gordon was chasing something that was reported to be a demon. It turned out to be raccoons fucking in the guy’s attic, so Gordon was disappointed, but Benrey enjoyed tagging along - especially when he got to see the expression on Gordon’s face when he pulled the stained cardboard box off the attic shelf and two angry raccoons tumbled out.

It was worth not getting anything to eat. Usually, Gordon’s hauntings are legit, and Benrey hopes he can keep the guy from finding out for as long as possible. It means a steady supply of both food and companionship, and Benrey hasn’t had that in, again, over a century.

“Shit,” Gordon mutters from the other side of the room. “I think I left my recorder in the arcade.”

“You need another, uh, cassette?” Benrey has a blank one in his fannypack - he’d taken to carrying it after Gordon aborted a hunt because he didn’t have one, which led to Benrey missing out on eating a whole family of poltergeists. With the extra warning time, they were gone by the next night. Benrey doesn’t want that to happen again, so he has a small collection of odds and ends that he brings with him now - extra batteries, another flashlight, some film canisters for the Kodak, granola bars, string, some weird wires that Benrey doesn’t understand but which Gordon always seems to need for one of his weird little machines…the usual. 

“No,” Gordon growls, digging through his backpack, the light of his flashlight strangled to just the inside of the pack. “I have a cassette. I have three cassettes, actually, but I don’t have the fucking tape recorder that can put shit ON those cassettes!”

“Mmm,” Benrey says, which probably isn’t the right response, but he’s a bit preoccupied tracking a patch of shadow that’s creeping its way down the wall behind Gordon. 

“Don’t fucking “hmm” at me,” Gordon snaps, and drops into a crouch to upend the contents of his backpack onto the floor. “Come help me look through this.”

“Should just get, uh, one’a those military packs,” Benrey says, eyes still on the wall as he walks blindly over. “Army surplus. Got lots of pockets for, uh, stuff.”

“I don’t need more fucking pockets, I need to not put shit down in the office and then forget about it!” Gordon runs a hand over his head, smoothing down the frizzy hairs that have come loose from his ponytail. Benrey wants to follow that touch, to run his own hands over Gordon’s hair, thread his fingers through it and pull the hairband loose, tighten his grip and lean forward and -

“Benrey? Are you just gonna stand there or what?”

Benrey blinks at him, then freezes as he realizes that he’s taken his eyes off the shadow on the wall.

Behind Gordon, the wraith rises from the floor, gaunt and wavering, but solid enough for Benrey to touch. He doesn’t waste a moment in doing so - its eyes are fixed on Gordon, and Gordon’s gaze is fixed on Benrey, which leaves Gordon completely unprotected as the wraith rears back and readies one pale, clawed limb to strike.

Benrey’s seen it before, before he cared about humans - before he cared about this human. There’s no way he’s going to sit by and watch it happen this time, not when he remembers the way the striking limb sharpens into a spear, the way it punches through its victim without shedding a drop of their blood, the way it pulses grossly as the wraith drains their vitality like some sort of mutated mosquito. Benrey can’t watch Gordon’s face go pale with shock and blood loss, can’t watch him thrash like a bug on a pin until he stills, limp and unresponsive.

So Benrey lunges, leaping over Gordon and crashing into the wraith, sinking his already-prepared claws into its insubstantial form, his own limbs wavering into the same half-life plane the wraith inhabits. It takes a lot of energy to push through, but a good meal is worth it. For the wraith, that was supposed to be Gordon. For Benrey, it’s the wraith itself.

His momentum slams them both through the empty shutters and out onto the balcony. Gordon is yelling behind them - and Benrey can’t let him see this, he can’t let Gordon set his eyes on Benrey with monstrous limbs sunk halfway into a monster’s chest. So he keeps tumbling, and they crash through the weak wooden railing and fall three stories straight down.

In the air, Benrey has the advantage of surprise and uses that to slice skeletal limbs deeper into the wraith. Panicking, the wraith punches its spear of an arm through Benrey. They crash through the upper branches of a tree and slam into the ground hard enough that Benrey, more present in the physical plane, gets the wind knocked out of him. The wraith takes advantage by punching its other limb into his chest - but it’s only got the two grabbers, and Benrey doesn’t actually need to breathe. 

The wraith shrieks at a frequency too high for humans to hear as Benrey manifests a handful of other half-formed limbs and wraps them around it. His form splits open like a maw and he pulls the wraith inside, folding himself over it like a wave and reforming on the other side - just in time to hear the thunder of Gordon’s footsteps pounding down the front steps on the other side of the house.

Benrey hauls himself up to his knees, but wavers there as the wraith thrashes, struggling to compress it down and consume the last of its energy. Even half-dead things don’t want to die, and it is still fighting him when Gordon comes skidding around the corner, the weak light of his backup flashlight bobbing frantically ahead of him. When he thinks about it, Benrey might remember kicking the good flashlight as he leapt over Gordon. It wasn’t intentional, but it works out well for him - if he hadn’t, Gordon might have been able to see him from the remnants of the balcony, and that would have been…awkward.

“Benrey? Benrey!”

“I’m fine, m’right here,” Benrey says, raising a hand. The other drops to his fannypack, and he feels something crunch. “Aw, fuck…”

“What? What is it? How hurt are you - don’t move -” 

Benrey ignores Gordon’s frantic voice to unzip the fannypack and pull out the blank cassette, reels of tape unspooling from the busted halves. “Must’ve fallen on it…”

“I don’t care about the fucking tape! Benrey!” Benrey looks up to see Gordon bent over him, hands hovering like he’s scared to touch.

“Hmm?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t -” Gordon straightens slightly and swings the flashlight across Benrey’s body. (He makes sure to reel in as many tendrils of himself as he can - but judging by the confused look on Gordon’s face, his shadow still probably looks weird.) “How are you okay? You fell, like, thirty feet! Why the fuck did you jump out the window?”

His hands are shaking. All of him is shaking, a little, which Benrey notices with an odd sense of detachment as he frantically tries to come up with an excuse. What makes humans do stupid shit?

“Uh, there was, uhhhh a wasp,” he says, and Gordon stops moving.

“What?”

“Yeah, it was, uh, a super big wasp. And - it was gonna sting you n’so I, uh, I grabbed it, but I…” fuck, he’s dug himself a hole now, he has to recover - “I tripped over the flashlight and uhhh fell.”

“You…” Gordon raises his free hand to run it over his face, knocking his glasses askew. “You saw a wasp. In the middle of the night. And you...caught it? In the middle of the night. And then you - threw yourself off a balcony? With the wasp?”

Benrey thinks for a moment. The story seems airtight to him. “Yup.”

“I’m - I just -” Gordon shines the light on Benrey again where he’s still kneeling in the dirt. He doesn’t seem to know where to go from here, which is bad, because Benrey doesn’t know either. He may have just blown his cover completely. “Do you - still have the wasp?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Benrey raises his hand and concentrates, and forms a passable insect carapace with the remnants of the wraith, which still really doesn’t want to die even as he’s consuming it. It results in the skin around the extrusion looking nasty, dark and inflamed as Benrey fights with the last of the wraith to crunch it into oblivion.

“Jesus Christ, man, look at this!” Gordon yelps when the flashlight’s beam hits Benrey’s red and swollen palm. “How many times did it sting you? Fuck, are you allergic? We have to go - we gotta find a payphone -”

“What? No,” Benrey protests, and shakes his hand, dropping the “wasp” to the ground. “It’s fine, it’s - don’t worry -”

Then he stops talking, because Gordon tucks the flashlight under his arm and grabs Benrey’s hand, turning it over carefully to examine it. Gordon’s muttering to himself, and Benrey’s brain feels like a TV screen that’s stuck between stations, full of a staticky buzz.

“What, are you gonna kiss it better?” Benrey speaks without thinking, then winces when his brain catches up. He didn’t mean to come off that strong, and he goes to pull his hand out of Gordon’s grip - but then Gordon is raising Benrey’s hand up and dipping his head and -

Gordon kisses the heel of Benrey’s hand, quickly, carefully, the bristly hairs of his goatee tickling the soft skin of Benrey’s palm. Benrey’s pretty sure he’s got a dumbstruck look on his face, his mouth hanging open, because what? Did that just happen? What alternate plane of existence has he fallen into, and how can he stay here forever?

“Okay, um, that looks - I mean, it looks fine, I guess, but we should - we should still go, because you’re probably going to need some ice or something…” Gordon keeps rambling as Benrey pulls himself to his feet, carefully leaving his fingers in Gordon’s grip. He tries not to jostle anything, hoping that Gordon doesn’t notice they’re still basically holding hands.

“I have no idea how you’re okay,” Gordon says, looking back up toward the broken balcony - and in a shaft of moonlight, Benrey can see that his cheeks are flushed as he continues to babble. So that’s. All right. Benrey can work with that.

“I think that uhhhh I got stung more, actually,” Benrey says, and Gordon’s attention snaps back to him. Benrey realizes he’s made himself too tall and shrinks back down a few inches. Gordon doesn’t seem to notice, his gaze fixed on their joined hands like he’s only just noticed where they’re linked.

“You’re - you’ve -” Gordon sighs. “Okay, where?”

“My, uh,” Benrey stalls, drawing a blank. “My wrist. You better - you gotta kiss it better, too.”

Gordon turns his hand over, and fuck, Benrey forgot to make the skin look reddened - but it doesn’t seem to matter. Gordon raises Benrey’s hand up and kisses the back of his wrist like a Victorian gentleman. Benrey has to resist the urge to swoon.

“Anywhere else?” Gordon asks, then clears his throat, his voice a bit rough. Benrey almost loses his grip on the last of the wraith in his distraction, and it tries to make a break for it out his back. He yanks it back in, folding tendrils of himself over it, and curls his shoulders to disguise the movement.

“Uhhh my…my cheek?” Is that too much? Is he moving too fast? If this works, what the fuck is he going to do next?

Then Benrey’s brain turns into static again, because Gordon’s bristly face is pressing against his left cheek and he can’t think - he can’t even breathe. Gordon leans back, but not very far, his bright green eyes turned to mossy shadows in the night.

“Anywhere else?” he rasps, and Benrey realizes he can have this.

“Pretty sure it stung my lip,” he says - and before he even finishes the words, Gordon is leaning forward again, his free hand coming up to cup Benrey’s jaw, leaving the flashlight to thump onto the ground. Gordon makes a thin noise as Benrey returns the kiss, then leans more of his weight on Benrey, both hands moving now to run over Benrey’s shoulders, his chest, down his sides, toward his back -

Benrey breaks the kiss and leans back just before Gordon’s trembling fingers reach a hollow where he’s still pulling himself back together, and Gordon sags, dropping his forehead to Benrey’s shoulder and heaving out a shuddery sigh. 

“You’re really okay?” he mumbles into Benrey’s shirt, shocky tremors still wracking his frame.

“M’fine,” Benrey responds, seizing the chance to run his fingers through Gordon’s hair. It’s actually not as soft as he thought it would be - it’s a bit wild and tangled from being stuffed under a hoodie, then flying around in the wind when Gordon ran down the stairs after him - but that makes it better. Makes it more real.

“Fuck, Benrey, I thought - I could have sworn I saw - something -”

“Doubt it,” Benrey says quickly. “Just us up there. Just me an’...an’ the wasp. Maybe a nest, too, sooo it’s good we, uh, left. Sorry, bro - I think this one was a - a bust.”

Gordon raises his head and looks at Benrey again, the flashlight still lying forgotten at his feet. His gaze flicks back and forth between Benrey’s eyes, and he must see whatever he needs to see in the dim moonlight, because he makes a small sound of relief and leans in to kiss Benrey again.

The euphoria from that allows Benrey to finally subsume the last of the wraith and knit his form up completely around it. He leaves the dirt and stray grasses on his clothes to add credibility to the situation, and also to encourage Gordon to let him use the washer and dryer at his place. And maybe this time, he might get to wake up somewhere nicer than Gordon’s lumpy-ass old couch…

Abruptly, Gordon jerks back, hands on Benrey’s shoulders. “A wasp, though? Really? And you seriously didn’t break any bones?”

Benrey feels a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ohh wait, I can think of one bone you might have to -”

Gordon makes an exasperated sound and shoves him away, scooping up the flashlight and gesturing at the spools of tape from the broken cassette on the ground. “Pick up your shit, man. We’re ghost hunters, not litterers. Gotta take care of the earth.” Then he tromps off, muttering something about getting his backpack from the top floor. Benrey figures he needs a minute to process, and bends down to pluck the scattered plastic shards from the soil. He’s used to Gordon’s minor crises. He’s patient. He can wait for him.

Deeper in the woods, something moves, and Benrey wonders if there are any Bigfoot this far south. He’s still feeling a bit peckish.

[doberbutts]

How does mondio work?

That's such a broad question that it's difficult to answer. Can you be more specific?

Mondio as a sport in general that was developed by a man looking to create a breed worthiness test for the belgian malinois (and the dutch shepherd). He is credited in the creation of ringsport in general (so, French and Belgian too) as well as the Dutch border patrol program KNPV.

Mondio differs from the other ringsports in that it changes every trial. Trials are "themed"- I have witnessed a Christmas theme (decoys are Santa!), an Easter theme (decoys are Easter Bunnies!), and a Dr Seuss theme (decoys were various Dr Suess characters including the Cat in the Hat). The mondio club I'm joining will be putting on a Spirit Halloween themed trial this year.

What this means is that while technically the pattern is roughly the same, the picture is always different to the dog. This requires a high level of generalizing in training because your retrieve could be literally anything, your search could have the decoy hiding in anything from a jungle gym to an outhouse, the jump could look like a regulation jump or it could be a bunch of barrels stacked in the middle of the field, the decoys are usually in different costumes, etc. This is very challenging to both the dog and the handler because there is no knowing what exactly your trial is going to look like until the day of.

If you are looking for a list of various exercises:

I like this list because it also gives examples contained within various themes.

Dogs are tested on the obedience, agility, and protection. Unlike IGP, there is no tracking. Dogs must trial twice (except at MR3, which is three times) and pass each time to earn their titles.

In protection, mondio is considered a suit sport. IGP by comparison is considered a sleeve sport. Sleeve sports require the dog to bite the offered forearm, vs suit sports which usually prioritize leg bites (esp in mondio) and chest bites (more common IME in PSA), though in mondio the handler can request the arm be offered for bite in the dog is just crossing over from a sleeve sport, in the Brevet and MR1 levels.

A lot of mondio protection is the decoy trying to avoid getting bitten while still enticing the dog to bite. The decoy may sidestep, dodge, or use other handheld objects to try and destract or deter the dog. In object guard, for instance, the decoy is trying to get the object from the dog without getting bitten, all while enticing the dog to bite. This is because the dog is only supposed to bite in a certain way and at a certain time, so you lose points both for the dog biting when its not supposed to and also for not biting when it IS supposed to.

A lot of people will say mondio is fairly prey based and I would agree for the most part- the decoys often move in quick, side-to-side motions rather than running straight at the dog yelling like you see in IGP. That being said, there ARE exercises for this (it's called "face attack") that are intended to test the dog's defense and courage. However the majority of the bites are mostly prey based as is the training.

[illarian-rambling]

Syrup for the ask game? (most popular food and would you like to eat it?)

Most popular food is a pretty broad category across all of Illaros. In eastern Iarl (the continent), it's dry enough that wheat and corn are the staple crops. In the swampy west, it's rice. Up in the mountainous north of Skysheer, people grow a tuber called snowroot that's a little like a sweet potato. In Unity, which is on a lake island, people rely on canned food imported from elsewhere, since they have no available farmland. In the Araunian desert, where the Dwarven Alliance has been exiled, they subsist solely off of seaweed grown off the coast and dolear cactus, which tastes kind of like a plantain.

Given all this, it's hard to come up with a worldwide most popular food. So, in that case, I won't focus on the world. Yewbury is a city in the Republic famous for its magical research, and I use it as a setting often. The most popular food in Yewbury is a thing called mierka.

Mierka has Sulu'Okan origins as a dessert food. However, Sulu'Oku has a very 'sit down' meal culture, while Skolan (the province Yewbury is in) is very go, go, go. Mierka is essentially a pasty filled with baked fruit, tapioca, and spices. It's like a handheld tapioca fruit pie. Being handheld, it's great for eating while working or doing other things. This has endeared mierka to the busy Yewburite culture. Mierka vendors can be found outside most places of business or university buildings. The vendors who set up outside of labs do the best, preying on hungry students and researchers with their delicious wares. I would 100% fall prey to the mierka vendor as well, it sounds delicious.

Thanks for the ask!

[musings-of-a-lovesick-fool]

Summary: Dean Sinclaire used to consider Jacob Seed his best friend, the only person in the world he could rely on. Now, he was the only person he couldn't run from fast enough. In their years apart the little boy who had promised to take him to the stars had become a living nightmare hellbent on making him the same, would he succumb to his trials or was there a chance he could bring his old friend back to the surface?

Wordcount: 3k

read on ao3

How did he end up agreeing to this again? Dean pondered that very thought as he clung to the all too high radio tower, hands shaking as he clung to the metal that swayed far too much in the wind for him to be comfortable. He remembered trying to shove the gun and map back at the old vet only to have them shoved right back. Dutch was not taking no for an answer and Dean didn't feel like hanging around in an underground bunker where he was overstaying his welcome. 

After Dutch had given him an additional backpack and handheld radio he took his leave. 

He'd followed Dutch's guidance, his hope of a plan miraculously coming to him dissipating as soon as he'd stepped foot out of the bunker and into the morning air. Everything had settled over him at once, the realisation all of this was really, truly happening and there was no turning back now. As he'd blindly gone down the path ahead of him Joseph's voice rang in his ears. As he helped free civilians, leaving the gun tucked into his waistband with the safety on, it felt like Jacob's steely blue eyes were always staring at him, searing into the back of his neck like a bullet wound.

He had to admit, choking people out didn't feel any better than shooting them. If anything it almost felt worse, feeling them thrash around in his grip as he squeezed around their necks like a python constricting its prey. Feeling them go limp was the worst part. His only comfort was the continued gentle rise and fall of their chest as he hid their bodies in bushes.

As he had been climbing this stupid tower he felt like screaming into the wind, no one would hear him anyway. Well, maybe the guy at the bottom of the tower would, Jim—Nice guy, Jim—from the dock who he'd brought along if only to be a possible witness if he plummeted to the ground below and met a grisly demise. It would be really pathetic if gravity was what took him down, he could just imagine the look on Jacob's face if he… 

Dean bit his tongue.

He really had to stop thinking about him like that. Like they were still friends. Like all these years apart hadn't done irreparable damage and the redhead hadn't turned into the one thing they both vowed they'd never let themselves be. As he clenched his teeth he felt his foot slip and a flush of panic went through his whole body as he went in the wrong direction for a split second. His hand shot out and he wrapped himself around the ladder he was climbing, pulling himself flush against it as his heart skipped a few beats before kicking into full gear.

He gasped out a ragged breath as he hooked his foot back onto one of the slats. He squeezed his eyes shut as nausea, fear and frustration all fused together to sit over his chest in a heavy cloud. Fuck, he hated the feeling of falling so much. And the knowledge that if the speck of a man at the bottom of the tower tried to catch him at this height they would both end up being pancakes on the ground did not help his failing confidence. Speaking of Jim he could barely hear him call up to him, probably asking if he was okay. If anything Dean appreciated the knowledge he was actually watching him instead of fucking off, good guy.

He sucked in a few deep breaths, really wishing he'd just tossed the gun and map away and headed back to the small cabin he'd snagged at a deal on the edge of Holland Valley and The Whitetail Mountains. How he missed his bed firmly planted safely on the ground. Maybe if he made it off this island he could go back there… But realistically he knew that was not an option. And he'd already dragged Jim all the way out here, he needed to get him somewhere safe before abandoning his new post.

"Okay, come on." He whispered to himself, breathing out in short huffs to rid the anxiety before he began climbing again. Once he made it to the final platform he gripped onto the metal column for dear life. He shimmied around to the side, pausing at the sight of an obnoxious looking switch. It couldn't be that fucking simple right? The cult hadn't cut the radio signal by sending their own dolt up here to flip this thing right? That just made him feel like a fuckin clown. He rested his forehead against the cool metal for a moment, taking a second to accept his ridiculous position.

He was really doing this huh?

Fuck, alright.

He reached up and grabbed hold of the handle, pulling it down and hearing a less than satisfying click followed by a low buzzing. After a moment that buzzing was joined in by radio static.

"Good job kid, I'm getting a real strong signal now!" Dutch's voice crackled through the radio as Dean glanced over the landscape below him. If it were any other day it would have been a view worth marvelling, maybe he would have stayed up there for an hour or two enjoying it. Securely tied to it though, maybe. He then spotted the zipline right in front of him, eyeing the blue rope with a bit of wonder and disdain. He'd always wanted to ride one of those things, but he also didn't know if he trusted his upper body strength to get him all the way to the ground.

Dutch began to spout off information, each Seeds name listed off with a new one added in; Faith Seed. The woman he'd seen in the church beside John, the photo pinned up on that map in Dutch's bunker. He wondered how he never ran into her if she'd been set up in the Henbane River, he guessed he hadn't been around long enough to have the opportunity. Maybe it was for the best, although her appearance had seemed soft there was something in the energy radiating off of her that told him she was just as dangerous as the men she stood beside. 

Dean shrugged the thought away, glanced down the ladder and sighed deeply. The thought of climbing back all the way down was just as daunting as the blue rope beside his head.

He weighed up his options, he remembered Dutch had shoved something into the backpack with the word 'zipline' tossed out with it. As carefully as he could Dean slid the backpack off one shoulder, swinging it around and opening it up and rummaging around in it. He pulled out something that looked like a frankenstein handlebar, two hand holds and a middle piece looking like it would fit nice and snug around the rope. Dean zipped up the backpack and secured it around his shoulder again, slowly moving the franken-handhold over the rope.

It sank into place like it was made for it and with Dutch's voice in his ear and the faint, faded memory of doing something like this when he was a kid—With Jacob's encouragement—swimming in his mind he pushed off of the platform.

He felt gravity drag him down, felt the strain on his muscles and the rope as he flew through the air. Air flew past his face, whipped his hair around wildly and flushed out all the old air in his lungs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, he wasn't falling to his delight; he was flying. This felt fucking great. He laughed, kicking his legs forward and feeling weightless for the first time in a while. It felt like a reset, his system booting back up as he landed on the other end of the line. His boots dug into the ground and he let himself fall to his knees and dig his fingers into the damp grass beneath him.

His chest heaved as he sucked in breath through small bouts of laughter. He really needed that.

"I just got a transmission coming out of Holland Valley kid, you're gonna wanna see this."

And just like that, his small moment of reprieve was gone.

Dean left Jim at the ranger station, figuring it was as safe as anywhere right now, then headed back to Dutch's bunker. He paused at the entrance, his earlier sentiment of not wanting to back down there rang true but Dutch had been insistent he needed to see this broadcast from the younger Seed. Dean meandered, staring into the dark and damp space with a wavering gaze. Did he really need to see it? He wasn't sure how much of John Seed he wanted to see, how much of his memory he wanted to taint.

He took one step, and then another. Down he went, until he was face to face with Dutch again. Much sooner than he'd planned, which had been never. The static from the tv screen was obnoxious but what it switched over too was much worse. John turned and without the darkness of the church Dean could see him so much clearer. Something twisted within him at the sight of the jagged scar on his chest, an old anger blooming and directed at an old man long dead by now. But even that old ghost wouldn't have taken a knife to his skin, as much as the word was something he'd definitely agree with.

John spoke and he sounded like someone else, he didn't know who but it didn't sound like the boy he knew. But the boy he knew was also a lot of heads shorter and missing a few teeth. Dean found a familiar stinging in his eyes as the stranger did his sadistic dance and song on the screen, the cruel reality that he was twisted so far beyond who he'd ever had the chance to be even more depressing than the state of his old friend somehow. How old had he been when they left? He could barely remember now. A faded letter hidden in a box under his bed had the mention of a 6th birthday in a barn with a dry muffin as a cake.

Dean just hoped in the low light of the bunker Dutch wouldn't notice the added glassiness to his eyes, or put it down to sympathy for his colleague now on screen with a terrified and tear stained face.

It was jarring seeing her like that and a new wave of anger washed over him at how John put his hands on her in a silent threat. The smile on his face as she struggled against him was nothing kind. Dean knew Joey was a badass but she was also only human and John had all the power and numbers on her here. Dean's mind felt stretched, pulled thin as it tried to corral all the new information washing over him in a heavy wave. He had to help Joey. He had to know if Lola was alright. Where was Staci? Where had they taken the Marshal? Was Whitehorse okay? Was he okay?

"Kid…"

Dutch placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and he jumped away from it like he'd been burnt. He hadn't realised his chest had begun to rise and fall rapidly, his breathing had become uneven and his unfocused eyes had missed the end of the transmission altogether. It was probably for the best, it didn't seem like John had said anything he wanted to hear.

"Dep—"

"I gotta go." Dean gasped out, the words a rough and scratchy mixture as he stumbled out of the room. Dutch called after him but the blood rushing to his head made him deaf to the older man. He had to get out of his head, maybe another go down a zipline would help—if only.

The ground under his feet felt like it was moving without him, sending him off balance. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a few deep breaths.

He had people to protect. Joey needed him, Staci too probably wherever he was. And that's all he could think about as he got outside, breaking into a desperate run as he gunned it for the bridge to Holland Valley. Heart thrumming in his ears as he fought to keep his mind clear. The reset to his system had definitely made him sure of one thing; he was in this. And if he was in he was going to give it his all, whatever that ended up meaning. Right now that meant getting his partners back.

He was sure Lola could hold out at the jail a little longer without him, if she was even still there. 

Getting into Holland Valley had been the easy part of this impulsive rescue mission.

Dean had failed to ask any question that would get him to Joey. He had no damn idea where John had taken her or how to get there and Dutch sure gave him an earful about just running off how he did. Not that he was someone who should be criticising anyone else's manners. He did tell him to head to Fall's End, supposedly the people there could help him. He was hoping they could, because as he dragged his feet across the grassy earth in an almost aimless direction he felt his rage simmering.

Now the problem was finding Falls End, he'd only visited Holland Valley once or twice in his short months in the County and that was mainly to check out Gardenview Orchard. It had been a good day, Lola had tagged along and dragged Staci with them too. That happy memory offered a moment of comfort that slowly faded off into mournful spite. When was the next time any of them would get a good day like that? Dean paused at the top of a hill, watching a deer and its fawn meander by the treeline.

He sighed and shrugged off the backpack again, pulling out the stupid map despite knowing it wouldn't help him any. The marked off spots meant nothing to him, the landmarks barely recognizable outside of the 2D planes of the paper. Dean squinted at the bridge he'd supposedly taken to get here, running a finger in the vague direction he'd walked. He twisted and turned as he looked around, trying to see if he could wrap his head around where he was. If only Dutch had given him a compass along with this thing.

If his guess was right he was south west of the town, if he could find a road he should be able to find it. He mutters under his breath in frustration, marching on with the map clenched in his fist. He went on like that for about a mile, his determined steps slowly losing steam as he felt himself veering further away from where he thought he was. He froze as a gunshot rebounded in the air, somewhere to the east of him hidden within the dense trees. He thought about grabbing the gun from his waistband but he just lowered himself to the ground instead.

He crouch-walked to the treeline, hiding in the bushes as he pushed forward cautiously. He wasn't getting anywhere anyway so this detour wasn't really a problem, if someone needed his help maybe they could help direct him afterwards.

He stuffed the map back into his backpack, not fully closing it as he continued parallel to a dirt path. Voices started coming into hearing range, a man chanting off some words in an angry tone and a woman sobbing and swearing at her captors. Dean felt sick realising he would probably be hearing a lot of this sort of thing now. He swallowed the lump in his throat as a group of three came into view, two peggies and one civilian; hands tied behind her back. One peggie was reading from a book while the other taunted and paced in front of their hostage.

Dean noted his rifle and the shotgun slung over the other one's shoulder. There were only two of them, no problem.

He got closer, careful to not make too much noise. They were both facing each other so he couldn't use the tactic he'd used on Dutch's island, he had to be a bit more direct. He steadied himself, formulating a plan in his head as he grabbed hold of two trees beside him. Once the Peggie with the rifle had done his fifth lap Dean threw himself forward, he knocked the Peggie to the ground with the forward force and scrambled to grab the one still left standing.

He was met with a struggle, that white book flying off to the side as the Peggie brought his hands up to wrestle Dean away. Dean managed to hook his hands around the shotgun, using the strap to pull the Peggie and toss him to the side. He fell onto his side and the shotgun stayed firmly in Dean's hands. A hand grabbed his ankle and he swung on instinct, cracking the butt of the shotgun into the other Peggies forehead with a hard smack.

He groaned in pain and recoiled, giving Dean a chance to land another hit to the back of his head. It felt dirty—it felt wrong. The crack of the gun against skull and the drop of his body left a foul taste in Dean's mouth. But he didn't have time to mull over how this act of violence made him feel, the other Peggie rammed into his legs and knocked him to the ground in a swift motion. He felt the air get knocked out of him and the shotgun slid out of reach. 

He coughed, groaning and raising his arm as the Peggie began climbing over him. A grime covered hand made contact with his ribs and Dean grunted at the blossom of pain—At least it was familiar. The ache of a punch was something he could take. He shoved away the Peggies arm as it drew in for another punch, lifting his leg and using his knee to knock the guy off of him. He uses the momentum to get on top of the Peggie, landing his own punch square in the middle of his face. 

He felt the cartilage of his nose under his knuckles, felt it bend close to snapping as the force of his punch spread through it. The Peggies head bounced off the ground beneath him, blood flew through the air and landed mainly on Dean's hand. The Peggie groaned and his eyes rolled back but Dean wasn't done, he drew his arm back and landed another punch, this time to his cheek. The bone is less forgiving and he knew he'd have a bruise after this, but so would the guy under him—As well as a killer headache so, fair was fair.

The Peggie goes limp under him and he sits back with a ragged breath, heart hammering against his ribcage as he drags his eyes over the two unconscious men. That could have gone smoother, but at least it was done.

"God, thank you, I thought I was going to die!" A broken sob pulls Dean out of his guarded stupor and he twists around to see the woman sobbing and looking straight at him. Her red hair was a mess, falling in her face and sticking to the liquids covering her face. He feels his expression soften and he turns back around, looking over the Peggies and taking a hunting knife from the thigh holster of the one laying face down. He pushes himself to his feet and walks behind the woman, kneeling down and cutting the zip tie around her wrist.

"You're okay now, can you stand?" He spoke softly, staying low and offering her his hand as she rubbed her wrists. She took it gladly and he helped hoist her to her feet, she was unsteady for a moment before she let out a shaky breath and offered Dean a grateful smile.

"Thank you, I was on my way to my friend Rae Rae's house when these psychos grabbed me! I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't come along." Her words spilled over like a waterfall with a hint of an accent and Dean could only nod and offer a strained smile. He never did like sticking around for the praise part of helping people, especially right now. It didn't feel like he'd done anything worth a 'thank you'.

"I'm glad I could help, I was actually trying to find Fall's End. Guess it's a good thing I have no sense of direction…" He muttered, lifting his hand to fix his hair only to pause at the sight of his bloody knuckles. It had been a while since they'd looked like that.

"Well—Fall's End is to the west of here… I'll tell you what, if you can take me to Rae Rae's we'll get you to Fall's End," Her brown eyes lit up as she pointed over his shoulder with a dainty hand.

Dean glanced up at her and over his shoulder in the supposed direction of Fall's End, it was a fair deal and given the circumstances he couldn't find a reason to turn down the offer.

"You got yourself a deal Ma'am."

[talesfromthebacklog]

Tales From The Backlog: Cattails

7/10

In the simplest way I can put this: It’s Stardew Valley but with cats!

With. CATS.

At least that’s how I saw it initially described. And it’s a pretty accurate description for what it is. It was also $3 on sale with a newly released sequel. Which I view sequels as a potential indicator of quality. Not necessarily high quality but played enough where developers thought: “Yeah. More than one. People might like that.”

And I do. I do like this game a lot. It deserved an expanded sequel. It’s a life sim RPG where you are a cat abandoned on the side of the road by your owner and you are taken in by other local cats into a cat colony. It’s cute. I like this game SO MUCH. The sequel looks even better!!!

My cat’s name is Butter. Let’s talk about it!

I like cozy games. But cats aren’t really my thing? I like them. I like petting them and all that junk. But cats are like horses. The people who like cats are REALLY into cats. Just like horse people. You know? Meaning: Cat games aren’t my thing. Horse games are.

I don’t even remember how I stumbled across this game. I think it was blind luck because nothing about the art or the name denotes what kind of experience it will be other than cat.

Hence why I didn’t use it as the opener pic. The art is cute though. Though on Switch this same art is really pixelated when it was used as the title screen. And not in an intentional way. It comes across like it was blown up too big on the screen.

And I play in handheld mode 90% of the time. Not a complaint, just an observation.

Regardless of how I ran into the game, what was in this $3 package?

A pretty great experience actually. Simple. Cute. It had more content than I expected it to. It is not an empty experience.

Like Stardew Valley there are various familiar elements:

There’s the cat shrine, which is like the community center. You bring various specific goods to unlock things. In this case it unlocks little puzzles to work on throughout the map which also reward you. While not finished this is a breeze to get through.

There’s the town bulletin board in which you complete quests to earn special currency to get special items.

There are marriage candidates. You can get married to another cat. I can’t decide between Krampy and Alisa. Very different vibes.

Yes you can have kittens and they can look like a mix between the player character and your spouse. Ridiculous. I LOVE THAT. This is the gameplay I want to see!

I’m pretty satisfied with the writing of the NPCs. Not the most top tier but a lot of these style of games get overly childish dialogue. Cattails does not suffer from this problem. Thank lord. It doesn’t need to be mature but like… I don’t want to be able to hear you pronounce the word frog with a w just by looking at the text. You know?

Fwog.

The map is almost completely open world. You have to earn your way into little sub areas, but in majority you can do what you want to do and see what you want to see. The game actively rewards you for checking nooks and crannies. The game doesn’t hold your hand and direct you too much though. The game lightly nudges you in the right direction when you follow the main story. Some mechanics aren’t explained well, like the cat colony control thing (I’ll go into this more in a bit). The game is gracious enough to have a short mechanics tutorial though. I love short basic bread and butter tutorials. Some folks like this kind of stuff, some don’t. Just know that out the gate.

Then there’s the mole mines. You dig for treasure and sell it to the moles for special currency to get special items. There’s no crafting element though.

And with no crafting there is no chests, storage, etc. but this is balanced well. Prey is abundant (you will die if you don’t eat) and you aren’t crafting so storage is entirely unnecessary.

There are seasonal festivals with mini games and special prizes. Those are cute.

Then there are the differences. Starting with no farming. Kind of a special rarity. A lot of the cozy game genre leans on farming pretty hard. Maybe almost too much so despite how much I love it. At least in this first game. The second game had screenshots that had farming (Not a complaint.). This game largely depends on you hunting and foraging. It’s cute and different. I like that. The hunting is actually pretty fun too. Weather and season affects your hunting. You have to tie yourself and stalk prey.

On top of the hunting there is very light combat. This is either in the mines or against other randomly named cats in the over world (and the cat names do NOT disappoint). You get to choose which out of three colonies you join. From here on out you are in a constant territorial dispute. On your map screen you can see which areas of the map are dominated, or in the process of domination, by your colony and other colonies. There are two territorial disputes a day to help you sway favor in these zones.

And of course cats from your colony are there to help you! The only, thankfully abusable, downside is that the number of cats generated to both help and attack you are random. But if the numbers aren’t in your favor you can just literally exit and come back until they are.

Combat itself is basic. There are skills and items you can get that do small things to help (like poisoning your claws with local plants? Brutal! I love it). But while basic it is still entertaining to be in little cat wars.

Especially since it also allows for other “towns” to exist. Which a lot of these types of games really lack. There’s something appealing to me about needing to travel to a separate community as a player. I feel like it makes the world seem bigger.

Which you must earn your way in by offering gifts to these communities. It’s basic but I’m hoping by the time I finish and play the second game they will have expanded on it because it’s super fun to see your colony dominating the area. I didn’t expect this game to hit like it did.

It also has an experience point mechanic. Completing pretty much any activity successfully will net you experience points. Hunting, fighting, mining, etc. You then spend those points to raise your skills which can unlock additional special abilities. Again. Basic but in an extremely functional way. Basic isn’t always bad.

There is better cat customization once you enter the game but you gotta earn it. Which feels fair. There is nothing that is painfully out of reach. I do wish there was a baby bit of house customization but I get why it’s not there. It’s literally not needed.

…But it would be cool to have a cat tree in the house or upgrades to make it visually more appealing. That kind of stuff. I’m hoping the sequel expanded on this too.

The art style in majority is… alright. Except for Krampy. That plague doctor mask is so… good. It’s looks so silly. I kind of wish they leaned on that kind of style more? It’s good but could use a stronger sense of visual identity. Which they definitely provided for the sequel. The assets and general world look a lot more lived in and full.

There’s also small things missing that aren’t a big deal breaker but I want to see in the future. Like a relationship chart in the menu. There’s no dedicated map button. The mini map is largely useless. The game emphasizes you have to take care of yourself and I wish there were one or two more survival elements to keep the player on their toes, especially since the current survival mechanics are almost too manageable.

I like that sleeping doesn’t heal you. You need to either find meds or get healed at the doctor. And both are in plenty supply. You’re never hurting that bad where it’s not easy to get healed.

You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned much about the story. Mostly because the story isn’t terribly remarkable. You gotta get the world back in balance by finishing the community center cat shrine. That’s the story. It doesn’t need to be deep though. Let’s be real. That’s not why you’d play the game. You’re playing for cat and gameplay. It does that job fine.

Overall, I wasn’t expecting this solid of an experience. If it had a physical I’d be apt to recommend it to the folks who are more inclined to like these kind of titles. I would say likely out of the two you can probably skip the first game and just head right for the second for that expanded experience.

But also the first game was $3 when I bought it. Hard to beat that price point when you’re trying a new game out for the first time.

By the looks of it I can expect an even stronger experience from the sequel. Which I’ll get to.

…Eventually.

……Someday.

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Titles: HBD Carmenramcat & Cuteness Member - Shadow Ramcat

• Not only I made a regular artwork, featuring his Shadow & his re-creating cartoon face, which I tried by the way, but also Shadow has finally joined the "Cuteness Defender" academy army! Something that I've never for him, decades ago! 😁 It's been a long time since his unofficially join as a rumor, but the rumor is now a REALITY! 😊

• Anyways, his first armor was a fitting one for his feline personality, the armored "Nyaia Leone" custom! A custom armor developed from the "ZGMF-X88S Gaia Gundam" (from Gundam SEED Destiny) & based on the "ZGMF-X1100L Nyaia Gundam Leone" (from Gundam Build Fighters Amazing). Let's bring down his armament(s) & special feature(s), and hope he'll be amazed! 😉↓

Nyaia Shadow Leone Based on the: ZGMF-X1100L Nyaia Gundam Leone

Armament(s):

• MMI-GAU25A 20mm CIWS Base on the real Gaia, a pair of MMI-GAU25A 20mm CIWS guns are mounted in the Nyaia Leone's head, and they are mainly used to shoot down incoming missiles or for suppressive fire. They are usable only in MS mode.

• MA-BAR71XE High-energy Beam Rifle Base on the real Gaia, a custom beam rifle used by the Nyaia Leone. In MS mode, the beam rifle is handheld when in use and stored on the side skirt armor when not needed. In MA mode, it is mounted on the right shoulder and can be fired in that manner.

• MMI-RS1 Mobile Shield The main defensive equipment of the suit, it is anti-beam coated to protect against beam attacks. It is handheld when used in MS mode, and when in MA mode, it is mounted onto the abdominal region and protects from the attacks below.

○ Feline Blades Three razor-sharp blades are already attached to the "Mobile Shield". It has built-in retractable wires per each blade to grab enemies in medium range combat, and it also has heat rod system to melt/electrify opponents in any situations. However, when the physical blades broke, it reveals an energy beam blades source from the Epyon Gundam's powerplant beam sword. The blades are used in MA mode.

Special Feature(s):

• Feline ear sensors In real-life, cats can hear sounds pulsating at 60,000 vibrations per second, it determine location and movement of prey, as well as to avoid being preyed upon. But now, it adapts to the mechanized feline ears, which can not only used as a radar sensor, but it can also detect any source of vibrations on either from opponents or environmental events. The ears are built-in dual cameras for heat signature, night vision, and extra wide vision effects (aside from the main centered/rear camera).

• Feline Dashers Exclusively to MA Mode, these four fins called "Feline Dashers" located at backpack when its MS Mode, which is not used. But when it transforms into MA Mode, it become useful. These fins can possess an invisible I-Field, it can deflect any energy-based firearms/cannons. Plus, it can also used as a block runner, meaning it can ram any opponents while the I-Field is still on. The Feline Dashers can also used as a solar panels, which can charge the beam rifle or act as a solar satellite cannon to create a medium energy shot.

• Deuterion Beam Energy Transfer System A new technology capable of recharging Nyaia Leone's armor battery through the use of a Deuterion Beam fired from a properly equipped battleship, much like Gaia.

• Variable Phase Shift armor Much like Gaia, the Nyaia Leone has VPS armor, which is more energy efficient and capable of altering its strength, as well as color in the field, although this must be programmed beforehand. The change in color when the suit is used by Shadow Ramcat is due to a change in VPS armor settings.

Well, I hope you liked it & Happy Birthday, Carmen! 😁🥳🎊🎂🎁

Shadow Ramcat - owned by @carmenramcat Armor (Gundam Build Fighters Amazing) - Gundam Series © SUNRISE, Sotsu