todays bird
Love Begins
ojovivo
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EXPECTATIONS
roma★
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
shark vs the universe
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
official daine visual archive
pixel skylines
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
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Mike Driver
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Cosmic Funnies
bliss lane
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Discoholic 🪩
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
seen from United States
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@scary-hound-privilege
Mechsploitation side blog
Will mostly reblog mechsplotation short stories, art, or writing inspiration for my own amusement, though occasional I may drop a post or two myself if I'm feeling bold.
Happy to hear fic recommendations if you have some, still pretty new to the genre as a whole. Please add to my tbr.
no little mech pilot dont go into the kennels
oh mein gott zis place ist full of booten humpen
There’s just something so very satisfying about having dual pistols and a pilebunker on my shoulder…
Gunning them down while waiting for the perfect moment…
Then as soon as their AC starts to falter?
*CRUNCH*
Pilebunker through the chest
Hehe
૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა ᵃʳᶠ ᵃʳᶠ
I am totally normal and can be trusted with my AC…
Muzzles are just mouth chastity cages.
Hounds that always stay muzzled will be starved for feeling against their lips, tongue and teeth.
Feeding would be one of the only times a hound is allowed to experience feeling in and around their mouths, which would make eating out of a dog bowl all the more gratifying, regardless of the quality of the food.
Not to mention the ecstasy of being allowed to put it's lips and tongue to hard leather as it polishes Her boots, you have to imagine that would simply feel like heaven.
(Writing this in my muzzle rn wruff :3)
WARHOUND by Kallidora Rho, narrated by me.
support @kallidora-rho by buying her book here.
check her out on Bluesky here.
grabbable
( bsky link )
"C-Combat stims- need- stims-"
"Hound, please stop calling coffee combat stims."
"Need it- please-"
"You've had 5 cups."
Whining like a puppy
"It's 9am."
ya know what, life is too stressful. i need to take drugs, get in a mech, and blow something up. and then blow a hound for fun.
Fun mechsplo fact of the day!
Hounds have to wear both dogtags and a collar that has a plaque with their name! Dogtags are standard issue, but the collar must be chosen by their handler and personally given to them!
Handler, dealing with some bullshit: "Holy fuck I'm so stressed... I think I need to kick something-"
The average hound: "Hi hello yes I'm something ♥"
The hanger is filled with smoke, oil leaks, blood and god knows what other smells.
They've stopped fixing the paint on the Sandstorm for a while now, only when it needs to be shown off in the public do they paint on anything, but after two sorties there was more metal than paint visible.
High above the rough, black flooring Maera exits into the docking port. It is covered in sweat from head to toe, but the medic in the dock only took note of the saliva.
"How are you feeling?" She asked, tracing her fingertip over her chin.
Maera wiped the drool off its face with an awkward fingering though the grates of the muzzle. "I'm fine, it felt great, but I'm a bit lost... You know, as usual."
The medic blindly typed on a tablet while inspecting the hound's body, tightly shaped by the sensor-suit. "Any damage?"
The hound gave a whoop: "Too much to mention! The legs–"
The medic cut it off: "On you."
It turned it's eyes down: "Oh, no nothing really."
Then the Handler came in. Her boots too black, her medals too shiny. She took up the entire room with her energy, so cold, so stiff, so strong. "It's lying." The words seemed to have wrapped around the hound's throat. The creature collapsed on the metal floor, heaving and writhing. "N-n-no... I didn't... I'm okay... I'm healthy..."
But the Handler did not take that refutation. She took a step that reverberated in the entire dock. The reinforced tip of her boot landed between it's paws and She bended down, seizing the muzzle and dragging the begging mess towards Her. "Down"
The hound's body seized up and then slumped down. It curled up in a strange mixture of childish crawling and dog-like elegance, tenderly nursing its right arm.
"See, it's much easier to be honest. Now medic, fix my hound."
Hounds can run away if they want to. They might wear muzzles and leashes, but at the end of the day, it’s all performative. Thats the beauty of Hounds in my eyes — that they choose to stay. One of my favorite parts of being a Handler is getting to see my Hound choose, time and time again, to submit to my will and take its place beside me.
Idk where I’m going with this, but I’m just filled with pride and gratitude for my Hound.
"I want you to take my son out of that- killing machine!"
"Sir, your daughter is unironically more terrifying than the mech we've put her in. We've drugged her, eviscerated any trace of her mind, left nothing but animalistic rage, and then we augmented the ever loving shit out of her. She's in the mech for our safety."
no i'm not brainwashed, She's liberating me from my delusions of humanity.
yes the muzzle is necessary for that.
Don't you know anything?
