318-BASKUALO [Basking-Squalidae] -Water -The Basking Pokemon -Ability: Gluttony/Filter - Devourer(HA)* -Dex: “This gentle pokemon usually floats adrift with its mouth always open to filter its microscopic food. They let themselves being draft by the current, using its tail and fins only to steer, so they can use more energy in dygesting all the food they eat daily.” -Stockpile -Swallow -Bite -Surf
–>Evolves after learning Crunch<–
319-GLOTONINA [Gluttony-Tonina] -Water/Dragon -The Ravenous Pokemon -Ability: Gluttony/Filter-Devourer(HA) -Dex: “This Pokemon roams the sea moved by its own hunger, always searching for enough food to satisfy its appetite. In its never-ending quest for food, this gigantic pokemon is said to attack fishing boats and low-flying hydroplanes, or even pokemon as big as BLANKRAKEN .” -Moveset: -Dragon Rush -Crunch -Dive -Ice Fang
*All biting moves become super-effective regardless of type
You remember how I’m always talking about how I want to get a time machine so I can go back to the 1800s and join that one fencing society where everyone wears a fencing mask with holes over the cheeks so you can get a dashing scar with which to impress romantic prospects?
And also remember how there was a feral cat inside the roof and we didn’t know how to get him down?
Well, there is no longer a cat in the roof and I no longer need a time machine to acquire a dashing facial scar! I am so dashing right now, you would not believe it. So very, very dashing. Dashing smells like bactine!
Since he was forcibly removed from the premises, The Small Grey Lump That Goes Meow has been staaaaaring sadly in the window at us, hoping fortune will smile upon him and he will someday return to the Safe Warm Place With Hot And Cold Running Rodent Supply. (Except they stop running when you bite them.)
Being children of the god of truth they can’t lie, but they can be very manipulative through their art: they can make people feel and/or think whatever they want to through their songs, their music, their poetry, their dances, their drawings, etc.
There are monsters etched into
his skin. They bite him daily, gnawing and gnashing, eating at his flesh. They
are needles that prick away, trying to erase him, replace him, and make him
into something he’s not. When he gives in to them, when he glows, more than
just his monsters scream. There are bodies on the floor, bodies he put there,
bodies which will never rise again. There are monsters etched into his skin.
Sometimes he thinks he is the monster.
He picks at them at night,
digging fingernails into flesh, trying to break free. There is pain, there is
blood, and there is laughter at his efforts. Here he shows his chains, ones he
will never escape, and cries out in frustration. He huddles on the floor of his
stolen refuge, hugging arms to himself and begs, begs, to be free of this, of everything. Then he locks it all away
and stands. He clenches a hand into a fist and vows not to show such weakness.
Years later, he breaks this
vow. She puts her hands on his face, calls him wonderful and everything else
crashes away into silence. Her touch banishes the monsters, her words chipping
away at the chains. They stand on a precipice and he calls himself hers because
that way it’s easier to be him. He wakes, dreaming of demons, and she tells him
he has nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore. He is weaker with her, he is
stronger with her, and he thinks himself elf, lover, friend, free.
رسّام فريد، درجة مِن العبقريّة والذكاء مؤلمة ومُستفزة، يعني بين كُلّ مليارات البشر مَن سكنوا الأرض؛ شخص واحد فقط هو مَن أتته فكرة أنّ يرسم النهار ليلًا، ويرسم الليل نهارًا. واحد فقط أتته الفكرة، والأقسى، أنّه استطاع تنفيذها بمُنتهى المهارة.