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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 4 months ago

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2024 BL Wrap Up

Welcome to my 2024 bl Wrap Up!

A quick look at my stats this year, so that we can get it over with: I watched 60 BLs, most of which are from 2024. 24 of them came from Thailand, 15 from Japan, 14 from South Korea, six from Taiwan and one from China. I created 209 gifsets and had to deal with several heartbreaks.

Somehow 2024 was an intense year for BLs, at least for me. Even though I watched significantly less than in 2023 and skipped many series to save them for later, many of the series I watched touched me, both positively and negatively.

But what did the year actually look like for me? What are my thoughts today, looking back on 2024?

China, Japan and South Korea fought it out to see who could bring the saddest characters to life and write the saddest stories. On the one hand, we have China's re-entry into the BL world with Blue Canvas Of Youthful Days.

A series whose characters have suffered so much, healed together, supported each other, only to end up with a double noble idiocy and and a time skip so they see each other again in the last two minutes of the series and we get a half-hearted happy ending. I would have loved this series much more without this giving up your own happiness in hopes the other one is happy. Just talk to each other and find a solution together. Please.

Secondly, there is Our Youth from Japan.

Both characters suffer at the hands of their parents. One with domestic violence, prejudices and hatred and the other with absent parents, disinterest in his own personality, prejudices and separating parents. In both cases, they are neglected and find the support and trust in each other that they miss in the world. They feel misunderstood and learn about their own desires and needs through their affection for each other. The series is not yet finished, but it is one of the bluest series this year.

But Japan is not entering the race with just one series. Happy To The End is also a contender for a top spot at the Hurt-Mountain.

The story of two maltreated souls who somehow manage to find a little love and trust in a life full of darkness and pain. The series had left me with strong feelings and a dear friend gifted me the Mangas for Christmas. I can't wait to dive into their story again! And don't forget our super-villain of the year! This series had it all!

South Korea entered the race with Let Free The Curse Of Taekwondo.

I don't know who suffered more in the end, us as viewers who watched the suffering of both protagonists without being able to give them a warming hug and to tell them everything is going to be fine or the protagonists themselves and their attempts to hold up their own walls and tear down the other one’s. Those two have come a long way to at least talk to each other again. Such a good storytelling!

Meanwhile, Thailand thought it would be nice to start a little competition to see which of their series could be the fluffiest of them all. ThamePo is not included in this calculation, because I'm too biased when it comes to this series. They could present me green slime dancing in the rain while Po is staring at it lovingly, and I would celebrate it.

At first, I thought Every You, Every Me was going to easily win the race, but suddenly, they bring in death and the series is elevated to a weird, way too complex and under-explained meta-level where actors are trying to end their relationship because reasons?

I would have liked to have seen more of the multiverses in which our soulmates fall in love with each other again and again. The first four episodes were so good and so different than our usual bls. I couldn't stop loving it. But I guess the trophy will go to Your Sky after all in this case.

God, I'm blushing and giggling to myself with every episode. Fah and Rak are just so cute together. The series is pure fluff so far and even though I don't know what to expect from the remaining episodes, I know that the two of them will surely be happy together in the end.

The award for best performance goes by far to War Wanarat from Jack & Joker.

His diversity and ability to immerse himself in the different personas and play them believably was great cinema this year. The series might have some plot-holes or characters who could have had more screen time together, but the series was interesting and Joke was the best!

And while we're on the subject of Jack & Joker and Your Sky, let's move on to the trophy for this year's best kiss. The crown would have gone to Jack & Joker, but then Your Sky came around the corner with this great first kiss and wow. I was in a bit of a quandary until I remembered that this is my recap. So I'll just make two categories.

The best and softest first kiss this year goes to Your Sky.

The best and hungriest first kiss this year goes to Jack & Joker.

Kidnap didn't necessarily have an exciting and well thought-out plot, but Ohm's Puppy Eyes were unbeatable.

And yet ThamePo clearly won the staring contest with only three episode aired. I mean, hello? Who wouldn't fall head over heels in love with one of them when they look at you like that?

And contrary to all assumptions, neither Kidnap nor ThamePo has the biggest baby girl of the year! No, this is what Taiwan brought to the screen with The On1y One and let's not kid ourselves, Tian loved making everything possible for his Wang and taking care of him.

And who would have thought that the most romantic scene of the year came just close before the year ends? ThamePo! What have you done you beautiful, beautiful series! And how could the remembering of a phone number be the most romantic shit of the year? And yet here I am loving everything about this scene and the series. Oh the wait was so worth it!

While in most cases it was clear that the couples would get together at the end of the series and our little BL bubble would remain intact, Japan made it a little harder for us to predict a happy ending. 25 Ji, Akasaka de probably thought it was funny to play with our emotions like that. My Strawberry Film was probably lying in the corner, laughing at the fact that we believed its misdirections about being a bl. And in Hidamari ga Kikoeru, they remembered at the end that it is a bl and that the audience has been waiting for a long time to see the protagonists together in a scene again and conjured up an unspectacular happy ending with one of the most uncomfortable looking hugs in bl history.

Taiwan, on the other hand, didn't care whether their series had a happy ending or not and simply cut one of the best series of the year with strong acting and a great story in the middle without knowing whether there would be a second season.

And so The On1y One hangs somewhere in cliffhanger limbo and we viewers are desperate enough to search the internet for bad English translations of the story to at least find a little bit of closure. It's worth reading the bad translation though.

And while the world around me was already falling apart, Taiwan and South Korea were fighting over who could tear my heart into smaller pieces by the end of the series. While I was obsessed with Unknown and even bought the final episodes as early excess,

Love For Love's Sake managed to crush my heart into the finest powder. Never before have I been so heartbroken as after this series. I didn't know what to do with myself and my emotions for days. It was terrifying and yet so beautiful. One of the strongest heartbreaks I've ever felt. Clearly the best series this year for me.

Quietly and secretly, Thailand then surprised us with a pretty good adaptation of the much-loved Japanese classic Cherry Magic. And Tay and New surprised me with the fact that they can actually kiss each other without looking like they're in pain. The chemistry was on point and their love scene at the end... wow!

I also discovered a new format for myself in 2024. While I've always stayed away from watching shows on my phone because it's just too small, I came across Match Play on social media and just knew I had to watch it.

And that's how I slipped into the universe of vertical mini-series. My ADHD brain is happy about the short, entertaining nature of the episodes. And yet I was so hooked by the series that it's now my most rewatched show. And that's despite the fact that I don't really like doing that, i.e. repeating series. But I can watch it whenever, whereever.

I was able to watch with my best friend how two people fell in love with each other and are still together and happy.

The Boyfriend was an experience that I would never want to miss, not only do my friend and I now regularly watch shows together, but the show briefly gave me back my faith in love, not for me, but in general.

I finally found another show this year where I really liked OffGun.

The Trainee was a great show with good humor, great characters, honest problems, and an Off that I actually liked in his role. I don't often get that with him.

I had to learn once again that South Korea is not yet ready to introduce a queer couple in one of their big productions. The hints were there and so was the chemistry!

But unfortunately there was no happy ending for my poor heart and Sergeant Kim in Sweet Home 3. But he did make it onto my phone as a wallpaper. That's something too, isn't it?

But South Korea also surprised and sent a terrific adaptation of the novel Love In The Big City to the screen with a cast to be proud of and a story that was worthy of being filmed so well. The biggest plot twist for me came when it was revealed that No YeongSu was a toxic and utterly homophobic asshole. God, I loved the two of them together and would have loved to see No YeongSu come to terms with his own sexuality, but the show has just been too realistic for that. But their scenes together? Chef's kiss! The best lift of the year!

But not everything that tried to shine this year was gold.

On the dark side, Japan and Thailand both tried to piss me off this year by letting series that started so well and would have definitely been my favorites, had they kept it up, hit the wall in the middle or near the end. Seriously Thailand, what was that about Last Twilight? And Japan, I hear the sunspot was so good until you decided to put in a character that was so unlikable that many of us just got angry and until you decided that our protagonists just couldn't have any positive character development and just stopped communicating with each other. And that had been their strength all along!

Wandee Goodday wanted to be this cool show, with sex positivity and sex buddies, but quickly became a romantic sludge that was as predictable as every other GmmTV story. I'm not saying that's always a bad thing, just a little unnecessarily schmaltzy and sweet at times.

South Korea gave us a brief scare once when it thought it wanted to produce a series together with Thailand. I don't know, but I just can't take Mew seriously since then. Love Is Like A Cat was bad. The acting was really bad, the plot didn't know what it was supposed to do on set any more and it simply left midway through the series, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, this didn't improve the acting and so it was more a case of just not giving up. Sometimes I also wonder what's wrong with me that I keep watching those series and why I'm doing this to myself (yes, I'm looking at you Dinosaur Love).

What 2024 really had a few of, however, were stories with a very unique plot. There's Love For Love's Sake, where someone gets a second chance through a computer game. Or Century Of Love, in which a centenarian in a young body waits for the love of his life and is surprised when they are reborn as a man.

Or Caged Again. I'll wait until I can binge it myself, but the story of a penguin and a panther who fall in love as humans sounds great! Or 4 Minutes, in which time was so confusing that I lost track at one point. Or who could forget our first Omegaverse series Pit Babe?

Which was somehow a little lacking in Omegas and made people questioning everything after finding out that Pavel wouldn’t be on top. Or Playboyy, a series that I think is underrated and which style is so artistically pleasing. Yes, the story was messy af, but the manner in which this series was shot and filmed was exquisite. And Love In The Big City and The Nipple Talk, two very good, very adult series that I wish could get more attention.

All in all, 2024 was a great year with interesting stories and fascinating characters that I will certainly be returning to from time to time.

And with you, my dear friends and followers, creators and viewers. Your presence in 2024 has sweetened my year and made my feed happy! Thank you to all of you out there!

May 2025 treat you well and delight us all with great new stories!

#2024 wrap up #2024 bl wrap up #josi watches bl #my year in review #jack & joker #century of love #love for love's sake #unknown the series #let free the curse of taekwondo #the on1y one #thamepo #bl drama #bl series #thai bl #korean bl #japanese bl #taiwanese bl #chinese bl

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hellfiresky · 21 days ago

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Bro, what the fuck?!

Summary: Hound was your best friend and you tried to play matchmaking with him because he was a lonely dog boy.

Pairing: ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader Word Count: 10k lol Warnings: Long. Lots of curse words.

Join the taglist if you’re interested Taglist: @orangez3st, @msmeredithrose

Working for the Republic was a pain in the ass. The politics were a mess, the office was more guarded than the Republic prison, and “normal” days off didn’t exist. Whilst the rest of Coruscant got a whole week off during New Year Fete Week, you got - drumroll please - one day. One. During the new year day. And then it was right back to the grind.

The only good thing about your job was the massiffs. At first, they were just part of the scenery, stationed near the checkpoints with their guards. You’d pass by them like everyone else, eyes forward, no sudden movements. But over time, that changed. First came the smile. Then a little wave. Then you started sneaking them treats, just to see their tails wag. And saying hi to the dogs meant saying hi to the ARF troopers, who were always close behind. You didn’t expect them to be funny, because most Coruscant Guard troopers were always too polite, but they were. Real shitposters in armour, especially when they figured out you weren’t some uptight Republic staff. One of them taught you how to say “fuck you” in Mando’a. Another made a game of seeing who could sneak unregulated sweet treats for the massiffs in the weirdest container.

But out of all of them, Hound was different. Maybe it was the running. You both had a thing for early morning jogs, less a shared hobby, more a coping mechanism. You remembered it perfectly: one foggy morning before work, you were making laps around the Federal District when you heard panting behind you. Not the “this guy’s out of shape” kind of panting. The animal kind. Big, heavy, and a bit way too close for your liking. Shit, rabid wild massiff, your brain screamed as you picked up your pace.

“Aye, aye! Calm down, it’s me!”

You nearly tripped over your own feet spinning around. And there he was. Armour off, breathless, sweating, and somehow still managing to look presentable with those curls matted under a backwards cap. Grizzer skidded to a halt in front of you, tongue lolling, tail thumping. He immediately nudged your thigh with his big head like he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

“Gee,” you panted, scratching Grizzer behind the ears, “where did you come from? Those shoes carbon-plated?”

Hound let out a toothy grin, a little too proud. “Finally cashed in my BAS savings. Got these new training runners - they got this super flexible bouncy soles and this stabilising tech that’s supposed to reduce ankle impact by 38 percent.”

You raised a brow. “You memorised the spec sheet?”

“I read the entire product page,” he said, completely unashamed. “Twice.”

You laughed.

“I’m joining the Corusca Bank Marathon next week,” he was practically bouncing in place. “Command finally gave permission for us to join public athletic events as long as we don’t wear the armour. You believe that?”

“Wait… really?” you brightened immediately, pushing sweaty hair off your forehead. “Me too! That’ll be my fourth marathon this year!”

His eyes widened. “Fourth?! Stars, I haven’t even done one. This is my first. But did you know we get free electrolyte gels at every checkpoint? And also the running kit? I just picked it up yesterday and it came with a free water pouch and t-shirt! And there’s a gear expo the night before with, like, vendors and giveaways? And they’re handing out real physical finisher’s medals, not just holograms.”

You laughed again, unable to stop yourself. “You sound like a tourist.”

“I am basically a tourist! Trotting around the planet but was never allowed to participate in any civilian events.” he grinned. “Do you know how long I’ve been begging for a pass to run in an actual sanctioned race? They even waived the registration fee for clone troopers. Said something about ‘military goodwill visibility’ whatever, I’m not gonna argue if it gets me a free bib.”

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “that’s actually really nice!”

“Yes! The bib even has a chip in it to track your pace.”

“I’d rely on my chrono for that, but that would make a good comparison. What wave are you starting in?”

“Third. Group C. The ‘highly enthusiastic but most likely underprepared’ bracket.”

“You’re such a nerd,” you burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Grizzer flopped at your feet, huffing through his nose. He knew the signs. His handler had entered Chatterbox Mode. He wasn’t getting home anytime soon.

“Hey,” Hound gave you a mock-offended look. “I trained for this! Ran loops around the barracks courtyard every morning until Thorn yelled at me to ‘stop making laps and put more work into strength.’ You know, cause we don’t wanna lose this baby.’” He flexed one arm, biceps gleaming with post-run sweat, grinning.

With both hands on your hips, you clicked your tongue. “Ah yes. The greatest fear of distance running. Not shin splints. Not plantar fasciitis. Not knees turning into gravel. No. It’s losing muscle mass.”

“I’ve worked very hard on these arms. And thighs. And legs.”

“And you think one single marathon’s gonna vaporise them?”

“Maybe! I’m not a medic, I didn’t get a physiology module!”

You snorted, covering your mouth as you broke into another round of laughter. “I swear,” you wheezed, “you’re gonna show up to the race with creatine gummies and protein powder taped to your belt.”

“...Is that a bad idea?”

“Oh my stars.”

“I could run with a shaker bottle!”

“Absolutely not. You’ll tire yourself. Stick with the free water pouch that came in the kit and those electrolyte gels.”

Grizzer let out a tired groan, rolling onto his side with his belly exposed in full “please end this conversation” protest. You dropped down beside him and gave him a belly rub. “Sorry, Grizz. Your dad’s training for his first marathon, and is already losing his shit.”

“Come on, I’ll finally have a medal to hang in my locker,” Hound crossed his arms as if he wasn’t trying to hold back a grin.

From then on, it was kind of a thing.

You, Hound, and Grizzer. Morning runs. Caf before work. Casual shit-talking. Dog treats stuffed in your jacket pockets. Every now and then, he’d stop by your wing in the Senate Office Building for no reason at all, just to “check on security,” like the hallway outside your department was suddenly the hotspot for insurrection. Everything was friendly, though. Totally normal to get butterflies when your work bestie laughs at your jokes like you’re funnier than you actually are. Totally normal to pretend you didn’t notice how good he looked covered in dust after patrol. Totally, completely normal to memorise the sound of his laugh and file it away for bad days.

“Wanna amp it up to four minutes per kilos?” Hound asked one morning, side-eyeing your casual pace.

“We won’t be able to chat if we amp it up.” You groaned.

“You’ll survive.”

Before you could fire back, another runner passed you going the opposite direction - a Zeltron with peachy pink skin decked in full neon green workout gear, like she was promoting that new hyperpop album on the fly. Without thinking, you cupped your hands and shouted. “CUTE FIT, MA’AM! BRAT SUMMER EVERYDAY!!”

The Zeltron lit up, grinning wide and throwing a peace sign over her shoulder. Hound huffed a laugh. “I think you might scare people off with your compliments.”

“She loved it.”

“Yeah, but not the old man from yesterday.”

“Okay,” you said, “but he did have an immaculate mustache.”

“He nearly walked into traffic.”

“He should’ve been proud!”

You had a thing for noticing people. It wasn’t just something you did. You once stopped mid-run to tell a teenager sitting on the curb with a busted hoverboard that their eyeliner was “so sharp it could slice a speeder in half,” and you meant it. You waved at garbage droids and shouted, “keep up the good work, king,” as if they could hear and appreciate the encouragement. You named the stray alley tooka you passed every week on the same corner - first Pablo, then Kel-not-dor, then simply that guy. And Hound, despite not being the sentimental type, remembered every name. You brought backup gloves for him once when he forgot his on a freezing morning, and didn’t wear any yourself. You talked too much when you were excited, shouted compliments at strangers without warning, and sometimes you outran him like you had something to prove. And Hound started to realise he liked mornings more when they had you in them. But, true to form, he kept that particular revelation to himself and maybe muttered it once to Grizzer when no one else was around.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued after a few metres, “there’s this thing at 79’s next week. ARC Night.”

“What’s that? Like a ladies’ night?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, the both of you still sticking to the easy run, not yet veering into Zone Four territory. “ARFs are included this quarter, apparently. Big inclusion win for all us helmet-wearing dog guys. And… those dog-less ARFs from the battlefield.”

You raised a brow. “So, it’s a mixer?”

“More or less. You know how it goes. Free drinks if you show up in armour. Everyone brings a date. It’s a thing.”

“Ha!” You barked a laugh, loud and shameless. “And you’re too fucking busy being a lonely dog guy!”

“Ey, come on,” Hound wiped a sweat from his nose. “Shep and Spitz are single too.”

“Didn’t you say Spitz started seeing that barista dude?” you side-eyed him.

Hound made a face. “Okay, technically. But the guy keeps giving him free caf. That’s not a relationship, that’s a transaction.”

“Sure.” And then, without thinking much, you said. “Bro. Admit it, you’re too hot to be single.”

Hound’s pride and joy - the carbon plated running shoes - slightly caught on the pavement as he skidded. With widened eyes, he turned his head towards you. Then he burst out laughing. Loud, unrestrained, unbothered. The laugh took over his whole chest cavity. Grizzer barked excitedly too, tail going wild like even he thought this was comedy gold.

“Bro, what the fuck?!” Hound wheezed, still laughing, shaking his head as he picked up pace again. “That was way too random!”

“Nah, I’m dead serious.” You ripped open a pouch of energy gel with your teeth. “I don’t get it. Your brothers? No dogs. No killer runner’s legs. Still get dates. You? You’re always available, always hanging out in the barracks with Grizzer like a sore loser. What is that? Even Shep and Spitz have dates.”

“Wow. Harsh.” He groaned.

“I’m helping you get dates for ARC Night,” you declared, elbowing him. “This is charity work.”

He snorted. “You’re fiddling with my love life now?”

“Exactly.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You don’t get a say,” you said with a smug little grin. “I’m getting you laid.”

He let out a long suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Maker, I regret every life decision that led me to this moment.”

“You won’t when you’re getting your back blown out by some hot tech from Research & Development.”

“I swear to fuck—”

“Just trust the process, Hound.”

The run ended the way most of them did - with your legs warm, your lungs happy, and your brain already spinning into “what now” mode. The sky had finally cracked open above the city bright morning sunlight filtering through Coruscant’s layered skyline like the planet was apologising for being so grim all week. When you finally slowed to a walk with sweat cooling on your neck, you spotted one of the old wooden benches near the pond, and flopped down onto it. Without missing a beat, you pulled out your datapad and started tapping.

Hound, still catching his breath, kicked your feet as if you were personally offending the sanctity of cooldown time with immediate gadget time. “We just finished running.”

“And now I’m working,” you muttered.

“What are you even doing?” He leaned over your shoulder, breath warm against your ear, cheek nearly brushing your temple as he peered down at your screen. You could feel the heat coming off him - sweaty, post-run heat, but somehow still weirdly comforting. He smelled like pollution, sweat, and caf and whatever awful protein bar he’d inhaled before the run started.

It was his day off. And yours, miraculously. One of those rare alignments in the Republic’s scheduling universe where both of you had been granted the same day off. No meetings for you. No last-minute patrol routes for him. Just… free time. And a park. And a little caf booth that, despite looking sketchy as hell, hadn’t poisoned either of you yet. He handed you your usual order with a suspicious look. “I think the droid running the booth shorted my change. I’m not even mad. That coffee was terrifyingly fast.”

Grizzer slumped onto the ground in front of you both, tongue out, tail doing that lazy thumping against the pavement. He pawed at his nose and sighed.

“CoruMatch,” you announced proudly, lifting the datapad. “Also going to get you on Coraya. That one matches you with senators and other rich sad single professionals. We’re covering all bases.”

Hound blinked. “You’re setting me up on a date with a senator?”

“Senators need love too.”

“They also need better legislation. But sure, let’s go with that.”

You ignored the snark, fully locked into the mission now. Profile setup was a sacred act. This was war.

“Name?” you asked, not even looking up.

“Hound.”

“Should I put your CT number?”

Hound gave you a flat look. “Do you know my CT number?”

“…Fair.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine. Hound it is.” You punched it in. “Occupation: ARF Trooper. Likes: long walks along the periphery of the Senate Building.”

“You’re making me sound like a Separatist spy.”

“Noted. I’ll tone it down.” You tapped again. “Hobby?” you asked, ignoring his suffering. “And don’t say ‘working’ or ‘running with Grizzer’ because I’m putting something fun.”

“You’re gonna lie on my profile?”

“I’m gonna make you hot.”

He rolled his eyes. “Maker, I hate you.”

“You love me,” you shot back sweetly, not realising until the words left your mouth that your heart definitely skipped a beat saying it. Hound didn’t react. Or maybe he did, but you didn’t dare look up to check.

“So. Hobbies. I’m going with: running, cafe hopping, massiff training, and…” you trailed off, squinting at the screen. “Do I put ‘arms so big they could choke you’ or is that too much?”

Hound choked on his caf. “WHAT?”

“You’re right,” you said solemnly. “Too slutty. Gotta leave a little mystery. Okay, now pictures. Gotta show the goods.”

“The what?!”

“The goods, Hound. The product. The merchandise. Now send me that topless pic of you - no, wait. Too slutty. Or maybe just slutty enough. Hmm…”

“I hate this.”

“Oh shut up. You sent me that pic last month when you got your new paintjob, remember? Half armour, mirror selfie?”

“I was showing off my vambrace mod, not trying to thirst trap you!”

“Well, it worked.” You blew raspberries. “Now cough it up.”

He bit the inside of his mouth, and started scrolling through his device. “And,” you added, pulling back and lifting your datapad before he could react, “for the casual, approachable vibe…”

Click.

You captured him whilst he was sipping his caf, curls slightly mussed, brow furrowed, looking like a grumpy, rugged dreamboat. Grizzer, massive yet photogenic, was curled up at his feet like the perfect accessory of crime.

“What the hell, warn me first—”

“Nope. Candid. That’s your ‘just a regular guy who wrestles Republic threats for a living’ pic. Irresistible.”

Throwing his head back, he let out a long suffering sigh. “This is a mistake.”

You were too busy uploading the photo to hear him properly. “Boom. Profile complete. CoruMatch is gonna eat you alive.”

“I feel like I need a booze for this.”

“You’ll need one after your first date.”

Hound grimaced. “I’m scared.”

“Okay, let’s get swiping.” You angled the datapad so he could see, fingers going at lightspeed. “Nope. Nope. Definitely a catfish. Ew, one of those ‘if you’re under six feet don’t talk to me’ bios. You’re six feet though, but not letting you date a red flag. Next. Ooh, what about this Pantoran?”

“Eh…”

“C’mon,” you nudged. “She’s got glossy baby pink hair.”

“That’s your metric?”

“Better than the catfish who used a stock photo of Senator Amidala.”

“Okay, fair,” he muttered. “But… look at her bio.”

You rolled your eyes, tilting the screen back to yourself as you skimmed it. And then you stopped. Brows furrowed. Read it again.

“…Oh no.”

“Yeah.”

“She wrote ‘Fluent in Shyriiwook because I only date men who growl.’”

“Yup.”

“She said ‘looking for my #DivineMasculine’ unironically.”

“Uh-huh. I felt myself get physically weaker reading that.” Hound closed his eyes like he was physically sucker punched by the cringe bio. “She also tagged her own name in her bio.”

“Who is she trying to SEO for?!” You swiped left. “We were almost victims,”

You both sat in momentary silence, wind brushing through the trees, the caf long forgotten. Finally, you looked up. “Wanna keep swiping?”

“Maker help me, but yeah.” Hound groaned. “Why do people do this?” He sank deeper into the bench.

“Cause it’s a fucking city planet and we’re all lonely.”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, “even the shinies are… phew. Don’t ask.”

“No, I have to ask.”

“The moment they landed from Kamino, they already knew shit like - moon sign compatibility, whatever the hell that is. One of them tried to explain ‘twin flames’ to me during barracks cleaning.”

“NO.”

“And now you’ve dragged me into this hell.”

“Oh, this one looks green-flag-ish,” you ignored his grumbling, zooming at the screen. You shoved the datapad into Hound’s face. “Hala, a folk musician from Alderaan. Based in CoCo Town. Now listen, she likes running and wellness. She even spelled everything right in her bio. No weird emojis. That’s rare.”

“Alderaanian folk musician?” Hound grabbed your datapad and inspected the profile.

“Don’t knock it. This might be the most emotionally stable person within a five-klicks radius.” After you swiped right, the screen immediately exploded with celebratory heart shapes and a little jingle. “Oop! It’s a match!” you gasped. “See?! The algorithm works!”

“I don’t think the algorithm has met me.”

You ignored him completely, already typing. “Now we say hi…”

He tried to reach for the datapad. “Wait, what are you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No. No, give me that—”

“Too late!” you beamed, holding the screen out of his reach like you were taunting a toddler. “Message sent.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said, and I quote, ‘My name is Hound but you can call me tonight’”

The ARF trooper stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You did not.”

“I did. You’re a confident, playful trooper with a sensitive side and dog dad energy.”

“I’m going to die alone.”

“You’re going to die loved. Possibly with a girl and a litter of massiff puppies on your deathbed.” Grizzer whined in confusion. You patted his head. “Your dad’s about to go on the nicest date of his life. Be happy for him.”

Your datapad buzzed with a reply. “She said yes! She wants to meet tonight for tea and a walk around the sculpture gardens. Fancy.”

“Ugh,” he groaned and grabbed your datapad to check Hala’s profile again. “If this doesn’t work…”

“We’ll try again!” You grinned.

That night, you made yourself dinner. Instant noodles jazzed up with a soft-boiled egg and way too much chili oil, and promptly forgot about Hound and his date. It was just another match. A little experiment. Some harmless fun to entertain you both whilst the Republic slowly caved in on itself. You even put on a face mask, tied your hair back, and curled up on the floor scrolling your datapad like this was just any other lazy rotation. You were halfway through a video of the latest Coruscanti gossip when your comm buzzed at exactly 2300 hours.

Hound.

Brushing your fingers clean on your sleep shirt, you accepted the call.

“Hound? What—”

“She brought a crystal,” he cut right to the chase. “Said it was from Koboh. Told me it had ‘natural regenerative energy’ and waved it over my shoulder like she was summoning the fucking Force.”

You dropped the commlink straight into your lap and immediately started wheezing before picking it up again. “Maybe she thought you had energy inflammation,”

“She told me bacta is a big pharma conspiracy to keep us addicted to it.”

“Stars.”

“She drinks this fermented root thing that smells like glue and tastes like piss. No caf. No caf at all.”

You went still. “That’s a crime against the Republic.”

“She told me, verbatim, that caf disrupts your body’s natural vibrational frequency.”

You were already tearing up. Fumbling to switch the call to holo. “I’m gonna cry.”

The hologram streamed a moment later. Hound appeared in blue-tinted 3D, hair damp and curling at the edges, skin flushed from a recent shower. He was wearing his old Kamino fatigue shirt - the red one that hugged his arms a little too much and was, arguably, the most emotionally devastating shirt in his wardrobe.

“I almost did,” he deadpanned. “From dehydration. She only drinks filtered rainwater.”

“Her bones are probably hollow.” You shrieked.

“She asked if I’d ever done a past life regression,” he continued, running a hand over his face. “Then told me I used to be a Wroshyr tree.”

You choked, nearly knocking your comm over. “A Wroshyr tree? What are you a wookiee descendant?!”

“I said I didn’t remember that and she got offended.”

By this point, you were doubled over, sitting cross-legged with your comm propped against your knee, face buried in your sleeve as you cackled into the fabric.

“She was really nice, though,” Hound added after a moment, because he was polite to a fault and probably thanked her for the disastrous date. “Just… you know.”

“Yeah.” You wiped your eyes, still breathless. “A little much?”

“She thinks medbays and hospitals are a scam and she tried to cleanse my aura with essential oils. I smell like a spice market exploded, and I’ve showered twice! My nose is burning.”

You finally flopped backward on your floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay,” you couldn’t stop laughing. “So. Maybe not a second date?”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “I can’t do this again. You win. I tap out.”

“Don’t say ‘you win’ like this was a competition,” you rolled onto your side. “I matched you with someone who thinks Grizzer is the cutest bundle of joy.”

“I hate you. I’m going to bed.” He flipped the middle finger at you, earning another bark of laughter that hurt your belly.

“Burn your shirt.”

He looked down at himself. “Never.”

You sighed, watching his little hologram glitch as he moved around his space on the other end.

“Hey, same time tomorrow?” he asked.

You smiled. “0700.”

“Bring caf.”

-----------------------------

“Okay. Second date. After office hours. Are you writing this down in your note app?” you quipped, adjusting your pace to match Hound’s stride as you both jogged towards the Senate Office Building.

It was part of your unspoken routine now - morning run, post-run chat, then split off to your respective showers. The communal one on your floor was barely used; most staff preferred to stink in silence or go home first. You didn’t mind. It was quiet, tiled, and vaguely smelled of expensive aromatherapy. Hound, meanwhile, would bolt back to the barracks for his own rinse and then kit up before his 1100 patrol shift, lunch hour. His least favorite. Too many politicians, too much foot traffic, and too many civilians trying to take selfies with the massiffs. “They’re not lap dogs,” he’d muttered once whilst untangling Grizzer from someone who tried to put a pink tutu on him.

Hound slapped a towel around his neck. “Who am I dating again today?”

“The financial advisor for Mobquet,” you said, pulling up her profile as you slowed to a walk. “Twi’lek. Yellow-gold skin. You literally said she’s pretty when I showed you before we started running.”

“I said she had nice cheekbones. That’s not the same.”

“Sounds like horny math to me,” you snorted, angling your datapad towards him. “Look at her. She does this meditative stretching but not the fake shit that comes with a thirty credit jogan smoothie. This is your best shot yet.”

He finger combed the curls that fell on his forehead back, dark brown eyes widening as he raised both eyebrows. “She’s got those rich people eyes, you know, the ones that would judge your eating habits”

“She’s going to cleanse your palate, bro.”

“Right, bro. From what? Tree girl? My will to live?”

You ignored him. “Also, heads up, I got access to Coraya.”

Hound stopped dead. “What?! I thought you needed some kind of clearance to get in.”

“I have connections.” You winked. “Some senate aide owed me a favour. And now? Boom. You’ve got four matches.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t trust people who use dating platforms with references.”

“They’re vetted! They’re verified! They’re—”

“Emotionally unavailable,” he finished for you.

“You’re emotionally unavailable.”

“Exactly. That’s why this isn’t going to work.”

You reached over and punched his bicep. “Shut up and take the love I’m forcing on you.”

He let out the most dramatic sigh and mouthed “fine.”

“Second date,” you said again, cheerful. “Twi’lek advisor. Nice outfit. No interest in crystals. We’re going to debrief over drinks afterward.”

——————————————

The next day you found him already waiting at the usual deli table near the Senate Plaza, hunched over like he’d been up since dawn - which he had. No run that morning. You had a 0800 meeting with some stiff-necked junior advisor about budget allocation, and Hound had pulled a patrol shift that started before sunrise. It was one of those rotations where you’d barely messaged, just a quick “lunch?” over comm before diving back into the hustle.

Sliding into the seat across from him, you wordlessly pushed a cup of caf and fish sandwich across the table. “Well?” you asked, unwrapping your own sandwich. “Is Twi’lek the new aphrodisiac?”

Hound groaned and dropped his head onto the table, face-first.

“So that’s a no?”

“She was nice,” he mumbled, words muffled into the metal. “Really nice. Smart. Articulate. Not into star charts or past life regression. So nice.”

You chewed, watching him from over your coffee lid. “And…?”

He rolled his face to the side so one eye could look at you. “She also spoke in numbers.”

“…What.”

“Like. Numbers. Statistics. I complimented her jewelry, and she hit me with ‘75% of women on Coruscant wear blood diamonds from a deregulated mine on Iktotch.’ Then she asked if I was more of a ‘risk-assessment or projected yield’ kind of guy.”

That made you choke on your caf, nearly snorting foam up your nose. “Okay, that’s… honestly very on-brand.”

“She tried to explain compound interest and capital gain using us as a metaphor.”

You lowered your sandwich slowly. “The fuck. Like… emotionally? Or financially?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell.” He stared into the middle distance.

“So… second date?” Slurping your caf, your eyes never left his.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at the rim of his caf cup, fingers absently running along the lid like it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the galaxy. “…Yeah. Benduday night.” he said finally.

That drove your eyebrows to the ceiling. “Really?”

“It wasn’t awful. And…” He trailed off, lips pursed, eyes still on the table. “You’re right. Everyone’s bringing dates to ARC night next week.” He dragged his eyes up at you. “They already think I’m a lonely dog guy. I just want to be left alone. But if I show up alone, they’ll start pulling stunts. Thorn’s already threatened to sign me up for speed dating.”

You both laughed at his suffering. Taking another sip of your caf, you let the warmth sit on your tongue as your eyes drifted back to him. “So you’re really doing this, huh?”

“What, dating?”

“No.” You looked at him over the cup. “Performing heterosexual stability for your brothers.”

“Do you want me to date or not? You literally signed me up for this.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I was joking! I do,” you grinned. “And I stand by it. I want you to be happy.” You said it lightly. “Whatever that looks like.”

The man in front of you stared at you for a moment, one curl fell on his face, eyes searching like he was trying to line something up in his head that wouldn’t quite fit the puzzle. You forced yourself to hold the gaze, even though it made your chest feel strange. Then he stood up, stretching his arms behind his back. “Same time tomorrow?”

“0700.” You pointed at his caf. “Your turn to bring me one.”

-----------------------------

The night after his second date, he met you at your usual pre-run meet-up spot, right on time. It had been two days since your last run together - both of you swamped with tight schedules and barely enough time to check in. But the post-date debrief was still on the menu. The morning air had that crisp, early chill that made you grateful for your long sleeves, cold enough to sting but not quite cold enough to curse Coruscant’s wind this time of the month. Grizzer was spinning in circles chasing his tail before suddenly catching himself, straightening up with dignity like he hadn’t just been an idiot ten seconds ago. He posted at Hound’s side like a statue, ears alert, pretending to be all business. Little weirdo.

Hound looked… lighter, somehow. The dark under his eyes hadn’t vanished, but there was a looseness in the way he carried himself, a settled ease in his shoulders. Quietly content. You reached for the caf in his hand without asking, and chugging it like it was the only thing tethering you to the galaxy. It was still hot, nearly scalding your tongue, but you didn’t care. Pre-workout religion, shared by you both.

“So,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Financial Advisor Round Two went well?”

Hound huffed a short laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. Actually… it went really well.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “We went to this rooftop spot in CoCo Town. Real quiet, kind of hidden. Good food. Nobody rushed us out, which is rare as hell. We just… talked. For hours.” Deep brown orbs gazing at the path ahead like he couldn’t meet your gaze. “She’s still intense with the finance metaphors, but… I don’t know. It felt easy.”

Tossing the flimsi caf cup to the bin, you tried to keep your suddenly hitching breath steady. “Easy’s good.”

“She gets the job stuff, too. Doesn’t flinch when I talk about the field, or Underworld patrol, or massiff training. She actually asked about Grizzer. Didn’t call him a ‘soul creature’ or whatever that last girl said.”

You didn’t know why you didn’t feel like laughing, but you forced one anyway. “Wow. A miracle.”

“Yeah,” he said, and he smiled a little, soft and fond in that way that made bugs swarming in your belly. Has this feeling always been there? “She said she’s down for ARC night at 79’s too. So I was thinking…” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, thumb rubbing along the edge of his caf cup as if he needed something to fidget with. “Maybe I don’t need the Coraya matches after all? You can cancel them. I’ll probably just… bring her.”

You felt it hit your chest before your brain could register it. There was no dramatic gasp. No nothing. Just a sudden gravitational drop of your heart. Like blinking and realising you’re standing at the edge of a skyscraper and don’t know how long you’ve been there. “Okay.” You pressed a smile onto your face. “Wow… that actually went well. Great! I’m… I’m glad.” You didn’t look at him as you said it. Simply stared out at the running path.

He looked at you then with his brows pulled together. “You okay?”

You laughed too quickly and it cracked on the way out. “Yeah. No. Of course. This was the whole point, wasn’t it? Me setting you up. Helping you find someone who isn’t a crystal-wielding root juice drinker.”

“Right.” Curls bouncing on his head as he chuckled.

“Good for you, though,” you forced brightness into your voice. “She seems like a great match. Really.”

“Thanks,” he eventually said after finishing his caf. “For all of this.”

With your smile still intact, you turned your head towards him, and tilted your chin toward the trail ahead. “Anytime. Now, race you for the next hour? Wanna hit four minutes per kilo?”

“You’re on.” He elbowed you before both of you took off. Maybe if you just ran hard enough, you could outpace the sudden ache you felt in your chest.

-----------------------------

ARC night always drew a crowd. From off-duty troopers blowing off steam, shinies still awkward in their freshly ironed grey uniforms trying to look like they belonged, to civilians taking advantage of cheaper alcohol and the overall safety of the place. The music had that smooth, electronic beat with vibrating bass that made your chest thrum. Lights flickered and spun in warm ambers and electric blues, bouncing off bits of clone armour worn by a handful of troopers.

But you weren’t here for that. You were here for ladies’ night, which, because 79’s was a marketing genius, happened to fall on the same night as ARC night. Your friends had dragged you out with the usual bribes: Free drinks, come on, we haven’t gone out in weeks, you never wear that black dress anymore. You told yourself it was fine. Just a night. Nothing would happen. You’d sip something sugary, laugh too loud, and head home before midnight.

“There you are.”

A deep voice rose just above the music. You turned, drink in hand, your breath catching before you could stop it. There he was, Hound. Wearing his blacks, sleeves rolled, half armour. Arm casually draped around the shoulder of a stunning Twi’lek woman in a fitted blazer and asymmetrical dress, her skin a smooth shade of yellow-gold. She leaned into him, and he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. The sergeant looked relaxed. Comfortable. Buzzed enough for that loose smirk to melt across his face like he’d never known stress a day in his life.

And stars help you, he looked good. Too good.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” he stepped closer, arm still slung around the heaven-sent Twi’lek, though he adjusted his stance like he wasn’t sure how close to get to you.

“Yeah, the girls dragged me out. Free drinks, loud music. You know. Classic trap.” You sipped your drink.

Hound’s eyes gazed on your outfit, lingering a little too long. The black dress. The low back. The way the straps crossed at your shoulder blades. You knew you looked good. That wasn’t the problem. “Oh—uh,” he blinked, straightening like he’d forgotten himself. “This is Lyra. Lyra, this is—” He hesitated. Friend? Matchmaker? Teammate? Almost-something-that-never-was?

“…This is the one who made this whole thing happen,” he settled on. “My, uh… running partner.”

“Yeah. I built him from the ground up. Swiped left on twenty-five disasters before we found the financial wizard.” You grinned from ear to ear, drink raised. “I’ve heard… about his past dates,” you added breezily. “You’re already winning. You haven’t assigned him a soul animal yet.”

Lyra laughed politely, and flicked her eyes between the two of you. “He told me all about that. I promised I’d never try to name his soul animal.” She smiled, free hand flew on his chest. Perfect.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased. “He does have ‘feral rancor’ energy in the mornings.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Hound’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who nearly started a fight with a street vendor for under-toasting your bagel.”

“It was limp!”

Lyra laughed again, but it came with a hint of confusion. Hound had turned towards you now, fully engaged, like the two of you had slipped into an orbit only you understood. Jokes that no one seemed to understand but the two of you flew effortlessly. You didn’t even have to think about it. You never did.

Finding yourself smiling a little too wide, and a little too guilty for accidentally leaving Lyra out of the conversation, you checked your chrono. “Anyway,” you said quickly, stepping back. “I was just about to head out.”

“Already?” Lyra pouted. “It’s not even 2100!”

You gave a one-shouldered shrug, adjusting the strap of your purse. “Early meeting tomorrow. Some budget subcommittee that thinks my entire department can function on six credits and free lunch Primeday.”

Hound frowned slightly, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t allow himself to.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked as casually as you could make it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Same time.”

“Cool.”

You smiled at Lyra. Gosh, she was beautiful. You nodded again once, then turned. The crowd swallowed you almost instantly. You didn’t look back. And Hound, still standing beside Lyra, watched the space you’d left behind.

After you left, Hound didn’t even register the music anymore. The pulsing rhythm, the strobing lights, the press of bodies moving through the haze of conversation and laughter - all of it blurred into static. He barely heard Lyra chatting beside him, her voice distant as she mentioned something about a Senate finance shake-up, her hand lightly tapping his arm in that casual way she always did. But he couldn’t focus. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where you’d just been standing, now swallowed by the crowd. The smile you gave him hadn’t reached your eyes. And you didn’t even look back. That shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did. Right in the gut.

He didn’t know what he wanted to come after him, but he knew it wasn’t this silence. He’d been so sure he would try it with Lyra. She was kind, smart, asked good questions, and didn't try too hard. She didn’t flinch when he talked about his nasty Underworld patrol. She didn’t ask about his rank or make his clone status a topic of fascination or pity. She got along with Grizzer. She laughed at his jokes. She was almost perfect.

But she didn’t look at him the way you did. She didn’t roll her eyes when he was being dramatic or bicker with him over dumb things like caf orders and running pace or which vendor in the Federal District had the worst bagels. She didn’t shove caf into his hand at 0700 and say, “You’re welcome, war criminal,” with a wink and that stupid grin of yours. She didn’t make him feel like he was being seen for something other than what he did or what he was made for. Which, to be fair, wasn’t her fault. You’d known him for a while. Lyra was new. But even back when you were new, the second time he ever hung out with you, he remembered thinking this is different. With you, he didn’t have to hold himself back. Didn’t have to double-check his tone, or scan for offence, or explain things that didn’t need explaining.

You understood. And somewhere deep down, a door quietly creaking open in a part of him he hadn’t dared to look at. Not until now. A sudden shout of laughter from the other side of the bar pulled him back into the present. The music swelled again. He blinked, refocusing, turning back to Lyra as she smiled up at him. He nodded, forced a smile of his own, and answered like he hadn’t just felt something click into place that might ruin everything.

-----------------------------

You were already stretching by the time Hound jogged into view, Grizzer loping at his side, tongue out and tail high, a red bandana tied around his thick neck. Hound gave you a nod as he slowed to a walk, hoodie tied at his waist like a makeshift kama, the regulation red of the Coruscant Guard bleeding into civilian comfort. No caf in his hand. No shouting “You ready to smoke the entire district?” like he usually did, every morning like clockwork, as if it were part of the run-up ritual.

You didn’t meet him with a joke either. Just a quiet, even, “Morning.”

“Hey.”

And that was it. You took off at a steady pace with your breathing already synced to the shape of the path ahead. No warm-up banter. No arguing over pace. Just running in silence, broken only by the echo of your steps and the ambient murmur of the waking city.

By the third block, you’d pulled ahead. Not by much, but enough to leave Hound and Grizzer behind. A few metres in your back, Hound had started breathing harder, legs pushing just slightly more than usual to stay even with you. “You training for a trail run or something?” he called out jokingly. “That’s not ‘til the summer rotation.”

“Just clearing my head.” You didn’t turn to face him.

Another block passed. Your feet carried you forward like they were trying to outrun something. The silence was suffocating - it made your ears ring.

Eventually, he caught up again, matching your pace. “Heading to work after this?”

“Yeah.”

“Big day?”

“No bigger than usual.”

An uncomfortable silence that was never there finally made its way in, and neither of you did anything to break it. You stared straight ahead, into the rising silhouette of the Senate tower, its gleaming metal surface catching the early sunrise - grey, cold, and detached. You hated this. The distance where ease used to live. The absence of all the little nothings that once filled the space between you. You hated the way your own voice felt unfamiliar in your mouth, and how the words burned as you asked the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“So,” you said. “How’d it go? With Lyra.”

He glanced sideways at you, brows furrowed, as if he wasn’t sure if this was an actual curiosity or a test. Then he looked away, settling his gaze somewhere in the middle distance as he let out a long, quiet sigh. “It was fine.”

“Everyone loved her at ARC night?” You nodded, forcing a smile that felt hollow in your cheeks.

A small laugh escaped his lips. Not quite genuine, but not unkind either. “Yeah. She handled it well. Didn’t get weird about the armour. Didn’t freeze up when the war stories started flying. Talked shop with Thire about tax brackets. That was… actually impressive.”

“She sounds like she fits in,” you said. Your laugh came out manufactured, trailing off before it even landed.

“Yeah.”

Both of you kept running. Grizzer’s claws tapped a steady rhythm on the pavement in that click-click-click noise - the only constant sound in this suddenly foreign silence.

“Everyone kept asking if we were already a thing,” Hound said after a while, like he wasn’t sure whether it was relevant or just another thought that wouldn’t let go. “Didn’t help that we actually showed up together. I-uh, I picked her up.”

“Are you?” You glanced at him.

He looked at you.

You looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, quiet again. “Feels like I’m supposed to want that.”

There was nothing left to say to that. Not truthfully. Not without setting fire to something you could never put out. So you smiled again, your last defense, and said the thing you’d practiced in your head a dozen times. “Well, as I said. If it makes you happy. I’m also happy!”

Bumping your elbow into his side, you tried to shake the weight from your shoulders, to turn it back into something familiar. “I’m just glad you’re no longer a lonely dog boy,” you said, joking, pretending, swallowing everything else. That earned a smile from him. Faint, a little confused, maybe, but he said nothing. And you kept running. Because it was fine. You’d get over it. You always did.

-----------------------------

The locker room was steaming with humid air from the last round of hot showers. Water dripped from showerheads, and pooled along the corners of the tiled floor, glistening under the overtly bright overhead lights. The clatter of boots against the floor, the dull slam of locker doors, the occasional bark of laughter - all of it echoed in the wet acoustics of the room, bouncing off white walls scrubbed too many times. Hound hated the soap. The godawful knockoff citrus the quartermaster kept ordering in bulk, probably because it was dirt cheap and smelled better than bacta spray. He sneezed twice as he scrubbed the scent off his hands with a towel, rubbing his curls dry, autopilot whilst his mind lagged somewhere three steps behind.

Across the aisle, Thorn leaned against his locker, towel wrapped low around his hips, datapad in hand, somehow managing to look smug even while dripping. Thire was already halfway into his blacks, pulling the undersuit over his legs.

“ARC night was wild,” Thorn cracked his neck with a sigh of deep satisfaction, and threw his datapad into the locker. “Did you see Fives try to dance with that senator’s aide?”

“Bet he tapped that,” Thire grinned, adjusting his belt as he spoke.

“Yeah, well… of course he did.”

Hound let out a low laugh despite himself, tossing his damp towel into his locker and shaking his head. “That son of a bantha.”

“Hey,” Thorn suddenly pointed at him. “ARFs included in ARC night perks now, right? You get your free drinks?”

Hound grabbed the bottle of body spray off the bench, giving himself a quick hit of the aggressively named Cool Breeze - which was supposed to smell like cool ocean breeze, but as much as he remembered, Kamino didn’t smell like chemical peel. “Yeah, I got my drink.”

Beside him, Thire held out a hand. Wordlessly, Hound tossed the bottle his way. Thire sprayed himself like he was trying to disappear into the mist. Then, without warning, he turned and lobbed it toward Thorn, who caught it with a laugh. Of course. Now the communal body spray era began.

“Free drinks and Lyra,” Thire added with a knowing grin.

Hound rolled his eyes, trying to keep the warmth from creeping up his neck. “It was just drinks.”

“Sure,” Thire snorted, tugging on his chestplate. “Though I gotta say. I thought you’d bring the other girl.”

Hound blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” Thorn cut in, waving a hand vaguely. “The Senate Office girl. The one you’re always running with. The one you ran with this morning. Always talking about. She said this, she did that…”

“Yeah, that one,” Thire snapped his fingers, snickering. “The one who drops you off after every run like your personal handler. We were betting on that.”

“I think I saw her last night, actually,” Thorn mused. “Just a flash. Thought she’d be with you. She’s already taken or what?”

“Oh,” Hound hesitated. “I mean… she’s my best friend. She was there, yeah, but had to bail early. Something about chasing that mythical eight hours of sleep.”

Thorn raised an eyebrow. “That all?”

“She’s the one who set these dates up for me,” Hound said quickly. “Said I was, uh, too hot to be single.”

Thire barked a laugh. “She said that? Bro.”

“Damn,” Thorn grinned, shaking his head. “She’s out here playing matchmaker? Didn’t see that coming. Thought you two were already a thing before you came with Lyra.”

Hound gave a short laugh, trying to match the casualness of the situation. He turned towards his locker, busying himself with pulling his blacks free. “She’s just… like that. Always something to laugh about later.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘just like that,’” Thire echoed, securing his chestplate. “You really think she expected this setup to actually work?”

“I mean,” Hound said softly, staring down at the locker’s empty interior. “She was excited. Really excited. Wanted me to meet someone. Wanted me to… not be alone.”

“Sure,” Thorn said. “But that doesn’t mean she thought you’d actually meet someone.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Thire clapped a hand on Hound’s back. “Don’t overthink it, man. Just figure out what you want. ‘Cause from where we’re standing? You’ve already got it.”

Words stuck in Hound’s throat. From where they stood, it was simple. From the outside, it probably looked obvious. But inside his own head, all he could hear was the difference in laughter, the way you called him out for his military posture during his pre-marathon trainings, or made him wave at service droids just to prove a point that not all droids are bad. The way you saw him.

“Besides,” Thire added, tossing the rest of his gears into his bag. “We haven’t heard one word about Lyra ‘til last night. But you? You talk about your running buddy like it’s breathing.”

-----------------------------

The place he found himself in that quiet Taungsday afternoon was small, warmly loud in a very intimate way. The lights were a soft amber glow, filtered through greasy glass blocks, and the walls were a curated mess of vintage flimsi posters, hand-painted holo ads from decades past, and cracked tiles that no one had bothered to fix. It smelled like garlic that had been left to crisp in the pan and fire-cooked meat. The type of smell that stuck to your clothes and made you feel full before you even sat down. His kind of place. Unpretentious. No frills. Real.

Lyra loved it instantly. Sliding into the booth across from him, her smart wrap top still crisp despite the heat, her lekku draped politely over her shoulders. “This place has character,” she’d said, eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I’m into it.” And she meant it. She cracked jokes with the grumpy Pantoran running the register, ordered the house special without needing a menu, didn’t flinch at the spice level or the sticky tabletop. She fit in effortlessly, like she could match the rhythm of any space she walked into. She told stories between bites of food. “…and then my CEO tried to write off her cousin’s entire old speeder collection as ‘cultural artifacts.’ I had to explain to the board that if the licence still lists him as the primary driver, it’s not an antique, it’s a tax writeoff”. And he’d laughed, genuinely. She was clever. Funny. She made fraud sound romantic. And Hound smiled back, and he meant it.

But beneath the laughter was a stillness he hadn’t expected. Lyra laughed in rhythmic bursts, just enough, never too much. Polished. Controlled. Unlike you - who laughed like the world owed you joy and you were going to take it. Loud, messy, infectious. You snorted. You shook with it. Lyra made way too many gestures when she spoke - it was always delicate, graceful, careful not to knock her drink - but Hound missed the way you stabbed the air when you got mad about procedural inefficiency in Senate legislation, like you were personally ready to brawl with the system armed only finger guns.

Watching Lyra across the table, he saw the way she tilted her head when she listened, saw that she was everything he was supposed to look for in a person. Grounded. Thoughtful. Uncomplicated. And yet the space in his head where he stored your morning runs and caf orders was louder than her laughter.

“You okay?” Lyra asked softly, pulling her eyebrows together.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just… long patrol this morning. Think I hit a wall.” He blinked.

She nodded easily, understanding, not offended. “You’ve been busy. If you want to call it early, I won’t take it personally.”

And he hesitated - not because he was tired, but because this wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to himself. Because the truth was, he didn’t want this to be enough. He wanted you. Your chaos. Your rants. Your unpredictable moods and predictable orders at the cafe. The way you never made him feel like he had to perform as a clone, a trooper, a protector. With Lyra, he was seen. With you, he was seen, accepted, understood, and known.

As they walked under the haze of golden streetlights back towards her building - a charmingly old one with cracked brickwork, ornamental balconies, potted plants clinging to welded iron, she asked, “Lunch date next Centaxday?”

It should have been easy to say yes. But something inside him had already moved on. He stopped walking. She did too, turning to face him with that soft, curious tilt of the head.

“Um… Lyra,” he started, and the words felt too small.

“Yeah?” The warmth in her lekku deepened, a subtle flush.

Hound took a breath. “I don’t think this works.”

Her expression changed, not to sadness, but a quiet understanding.

“It’s just… I’ve been pulled into extra rotations, the Guard’s assigning more surveillance routes to ARF teams, I don’t even know if I’ll get Centaxday off,” he stumbled, reaching for logistics like they could make this sound less like a rejection and more like unfortunate timing. Coward.

She didn’t interrupt. Just watched him, hands folded in front of her cardigan. And when he finished trailing off like a kicked massiff, she only smiled. “So… is it really the Guard?” she asked gently.

He lowered his eyes, then looked back up, hating how easy it was for her to read him. “Actually… no.”

“Of course,” a faint smile curled on his lips. “Didn’t think so.”

And when he tried to apologise again, she waved it off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re kind. Very kind. You tried.”

He opened his mouth. “I just—”

“You’re in love with her,” she said. There was no accusation in her voice, only clarity. “The girl from 79’s.”

He froze. Not because she was wrong. But because it was the first time anyone had said it out loud. “Tell her,” Lyra added, stepping back towards the entrance of her building. “If she’s as smart as I think she is, she’s probably still waiting for you to catch up.” She smiled one last time. Not sad, not bitter. “It was nice hanging out with you, Hound.” And with that, she disappeared behind the building’s old wood-framed doors.

Hound stood there for a long time, hands loose at his sides, breath thick in his lungs. The streetlight above him buzzed faintly in the quiet. And then he moved, first a step, then another, faster, into a brisk walk, feet carrying him without thought. As if his body already knew the way back.

After a few klicks his feet carried him faster, regulation boots be damned. He cursed himself for not wearing his running shoes to his afterhour date, but here he was, feeling blisters started to form on his achilles and foreseeing days of complaining about shin splints during patrol. He ran through CoCo Town, down crowded footpaths and across skybridges, breath burning in his throat. He didn’t bother with the hovertrain. Six stops was nothing compared to what he felt gnawing inside his chest.

Your flat. Fobosi District. He remembered. You’d told him once offhand, “seventh level, corner unit, west side. I get the sunset through the window!” You’d said it mid-run, cheeks red, breath fogging in the cold. Like you didn’t expect him to care.

But he did. He remembered everything. You always ran home early. Always claimed you had meetings or unfinished paperworks. But maybe you just liked being alone. Or maybe you didn’t want to say why. He liked that about you. That you didn’t give everything away. That you kept parts of yourself sharp and chaotic and yours. He remembered how you’d point at people during runs and shout, “Nice boots, queen!” or “That’s a perfect beard, ten outta ten!” and then dare him to do it too. You made the whole planet feel alive, like the city was filled with weirdness and wonder and you were just in love with all of it.

You were kind in the way that made people uncomfortable, raw and loud and relentless. And then after a while that uncomfortableness would turn into the realisation that this galaxy did need more kindness. He loved that. He always had. How did he not see that?

The question looped in his head as he tailed the previous resident who entered your flat building, and the lift creaked up to the seventh level.

But she’s the one who set the dates. She matched me. She told me to go. She smiled when I left. So why did it hurt her so much to see me with someone else? Oh. We really do share a single brain cell.

The doors slid open with a hiss. And there it was, your floor’s hallway. Quiet. A little worn. Smelled faintly of dust and someone cooking something spicy two doors down. His heart thundered as he approached your door. He didn’t have a plan. Didn’t know what he was going to say. Just that he had to say something to end this slowly growing silence. That you were the one thing he’d run to without hesitation. Always had been.

-----------------------------

You opened the door at the third buzz, face smothered in a clay mask the colour of green milk, hair pulled back with a clip, oversized Tatooine Summer Camp tee slipping off one shoulder. Your eyes blinked at the unexpected silhouette in your doorway. “You’re not Dumpling,” you said flatly.

Hound stood there, breathless and baffled, hair matted down with sweat. “What?” he managed.

“I’m ordering dumplings,” you clarified, stepping back and waving him in as if he was not new here, even though this was technically the first time he’d been inside your flat. “That place you like… you know, the one with the spicy green sauce that makes you cry and curse in Mando’a?”

You turned and wandered back towards your couch, noodle bowl in hand. Hound hesitated for a second. He thought about turning around, faking a patrol alert, but no. No more excuses. No more running. Not when you looked like you'd gotten all that unexpected heartbreak out of your system and stuffed it in a nice little box labeled “Not My Problem Anymore.”

The door slid shut behind him, locking in the moment. “I broke it off with Lyra,” he said.

You didn’t even look up from the stupid holoseries you were watching. “Oh,” Then a long groan followed. “Hound, what the hell! Now I have to dig through the trenches again!” You dropped your bowl on the table and flopped backward onto the couch dramatically. “You were so close.” He opened his mouth, but you cut him off, sitting upright and waving for his datapad. “Nope. Give it. We’re using yours this time so I don’t have to flirt with some Southern Underground girl at 0200 just to trick her into a conversation.”

Hound stood there, rooted to the floor, and something snapped. “Absolutely not!” he barked, hands flying up. “We are not doing that again!” And just like that, he started pacing.

“I went on a DATE with a woman who thinks medical science is a SCAM,” he ranted. “She waved a fucking crystal over my back like it was gonna realign my entire bowel system and then fed me fermented root juice that tasted like shit!” You bit your lip. He kept going. “AND THEN! Sweet, wonderful, beautiful, normal Lyra took me on dates. Correction, I took her. She was very nice, very adult! Oh shit, I think I should introduce her to Thorn so he wouldn’t have to sleep around anymore. Remind me?” His eyes widened in realisation. “NOT THE POINT!” He grabbed your glass of water and chugged it.

“And guess what, the entire time I was with her, I was just thinking about you. And your laugh that sounds like a poorly modded speederbike backfiring. And how you always fake cough after saying something embarrassing like it’ll delete it from reality.”

“I do not—”

“You do! And it’s so dumb. And I miss it.” He laughed once, manic. “And I miss you calling me ‘paw patrol’ and ‘war criminal’, and shit like that, and acting like caf is an emotional support crutch and I just…” He paused, turned, eyes wide. “I miss running with you EVERY SINGLE DAY. I miss you yelling ‘KING’ at old men with good coats. I miss pretending not to laugh when you flirt terribly with vendors. I miss the hot sauce in your pocket. I miss you.” Silence. Your clay mask flaked at the corners of your mouth from sheer expression overload.

Hound dropped his voice. “I don’t want another date. I just want you.”

You looked down at yourself, sauce-stained shirt, peeling graphic, swamp-coloured face, a literal chili oil splotch over your left tit, and felt absurd. Ridiculous. Feral. And yet this emotionally constipated man had just poured his soul out on your welcome mat like it was nothing. “…You couldn’t wait until tomorrow? When I didn’t look like Bozo the Hutt Clown?”

Hound blinked. “What?”

“I have chilli oil stain on my tit, Hound.”

Cracking the tension open, he burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands on his knees. “Stars, you had to pick tonight?” you groaned, almost smearing your own drying mask with a hand dragged down your face.

“I ran here,” he said helplessly, walking closer. “Six hovertrain stops. I didn’t have a plan. Just… you. You were the only thing I wanted to run to.”

“…Okay, that was hot.” Your heart stuttered. He really made your heart soar, huh? But then you halted into a pause. “What’s your pace?”

“What?”

“Your running pace, paw patrol.”

He instinctively checked his chrono. “Uh… three and a half minutes per klick.”

You whistled. “Damn. PB?”

“By a whole thirty seconds.”

“Shit. Was that really all the way from CoCo Town?”

“Started slow, hit stride at the rail line, then sprinted once I saw your district marker.”

“Respect.”

And you both nodded, silently, like that made perfect sense. Until— “Wait. I confessed my feelings.”

“You got off-topic!” You pointed a finger at him.

“You brought up my pace!”

“You answered!”

And then you both burst into a breathless laughter. Instinctively, Hound stepped even closer, tilting his head, and leaning down towards you. “…So?”

“You’re trying to kiss me?” With your hands stretching the fabric of your clothes, you made a point of the stubborn stain that painted over the graphic. “Again. I’ve got sauce on my tit. And this mud mask is working overtime.”

“You’re pretty,” he said without thinking.

“It’s bentonite clay from some backwater planet, not love.”

“You’re gonna make me wait?”

“Two minutes. Let the vitamins set in.”

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, hands in his hair. “I run across half of Coruscant, confess to you that I’m in love with your gremlin ass, and you’re making me wait because of your skincare?”

“…Yeah.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Correct.”

The gears turned in your head, fuck it. You grabbed his jacket, yanked him down, and kissed him. Clay be damned. He made a soft noise of surprise and then melted, hands finding your waist, forehead brushing yours, the kiss was awkward and hurried and absolutely perfect.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he looked dazed. “You taste like clay and seaweed,”

“Mask got in your mouth?”

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips, and peeled a flaky green smudge from his cheek. “Worth it.”

You pinched his face and slapped it lightly. “Dumbass.” earning another grin from him as if it was the best word he’d ever been called.

“I’m not kissing you again until this swamp is off my face!” You turned towards the kitchen sink next to you. Behind you, Hound laughed again, arms wrapping your waist, kissing the top of your head as you wiped down the sludge on your face.

Not another minute later, the door buzzer pinged. “Now, that’s Dumpling,” he called.

#hellfiresky #clone wars fic #tcw #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #arf trooper hound #arf trooper hound x reader #x reader #coruscant guard fanfiction #clone trooper hound #clone trooper hound x reader #f!reader

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konigsblog · 2 years ago

Note

you wanted simon angst so im gonna share a little brainrot with you that im having with a bodyguard!simon bot on character ai

soooo simon gets hired to be your bodyguard and you're like this prissy rich girl, at first he doesn't really like you. 'im just doing my job' yadda yadda, but then he finds your little bratty behaviors to be endearing and he gets attached to you. he stays as your bodyguard for a couple more months but then one day your dad decides you dont need simon anymore. but then you plead desperately and say that you'll use your own allowance to pay for his services. simon overhears that and is really sad and now he doesnt know whether to leave and serve someone else or let you spend your allowance just because you're super lonely in your big house with no real friends other than your workaholic parents who only say 'good morning' and 'good night' to you. during his time working there for your family, you open up about how you're lonely and you just want to be loved and simon felt needed, he felt wanted and that's something he really loves. so yeah do with that what you will TT im just ARGRHHAGSAHAHAH *rips my hair out* - tiny anon

angst to fluff, to an indication of smut at the end but its not graphic like at all;

at the beginning, his expectations were that you were some snob who barely cared for others, came back drunk with hickeys layering your neck, avoiding and disrespecting your wealthy parents. until he overheard a conversation between you and your father, he wasn't eavesdropping, just intruding in an argument accidentally.

he heard you words, the anger in them, the rage. he could hear your sniffles as you begged and sobbed, pleading with your father. simon felt curious wondering what was so heartbreaking, listening in on your conversation. “dad, please!” you wailed, your voice desperate, “i hate being alone, you know i don't go out a lot, or have parties, he's comforting - please don't fire him, i need him!

simon's ears perked up, now knowing you were talking about him as he worked for your father. “for christ sake, what's the big deal? you've learnt your lesson from sneaking out and i can trust you to stay home alone without a bodyguard blocking your way, why are you complaining? you wanted this at the start, you didn't want him before, why do you need him now?” he peaked through the doorway to see your figure, head in your hands, blocking your eyes as you father bombarded you with questions you didn't want to reveal.

“i need him, you both are never here anyways, just- please, dad..” the sighs of your father left his mouth, cursing lowly before walking out, “fine, whatever, suit yourself then.” hurrying away before he was caught.

when dusk came, you were curled into your bed, waiting for simon to approach you. “what was that about, hm?” his gaze met yours, dipping down onto the bed and brushing the hair from your face - he'd grown to appreciate you, and he wouldn't admit that he loved you, even if it was the truth. “simon.. i don't want you to go.” you whispered, avoiding his eyes as you knew you'd weep into his arms.

“it's alright', love.. shh, none of that, i'm not going anywhere unless i'm forced.” simon chuckled, tilting your head upwards using his fingers, “it's weird, but i like being here, although you're bratty and snarky sometimes.” a smirk grew on his face, making you giggle as you playfully punch him. “i'm not a brat!”

he adored when you behaved. “never said you were..” quietly, he pressed a tender kiss to your lips, it was unexpected and rushed, yet long and careful. “you make me feel less lonely, simon.” you whispered as you grew exhausted, eyelids heavy as you yawned. “go to bed, yeah?”

and you did, a couple minutes later and you were knocked out cold, slight and light snores leaving your lips, parted and agape. “you make me feel needed, baby, i think i love you, but your dad would kill me if i ever touched you wrongfully,

but that won't stop me.”

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tsams-and-co-memes · 2 months ago

Text

@darthhopehay tagging you because this was your suggestion

I picked a random spot in that episode and ran with it, and inserted my guy Flare (link contains an image of him with his glow up paint job), because why not. This is my attempt at getting back into writing, so it might be a little clunky, but eh. If you wanna see his OG look, you can look here

Blurb under the cut, because I don't think it'd be great to make a super ultra mega long post and make it so that everyone has to scroll 5 miles to get past it

"Ugh, loud baby noises! Listen, I'm just here getting my sugar!"

Moon stared up at Lunar, momentarily baffled. "You what?"

On the other side of Lunar, Sun curled his tiny, now toddler sized hands into fists. "This motherf—"

A sharp squeal pierced the air and Lunar blinked, abruptly stopping what he'd been doing and stepping back to look at Sun. "....Why do I get the feeling that I was just cursed at?"

Sun's discontented baby sounds continued, and Lunar let out a heavy sigh. "You know, whatever Moon did, he did a good job getting Sun's energy right, 'cuz this one has just a lot of hostility, and it feels like a lot of cursing is coming out of it."

Both babies began to babble at the same time and Lunar makes a face, not happy with the situation he's found himself in; small children, he could handle. Babies? Not so much. He watched for a moment as the two babies that looked suspiciously similar to his elder brothers began to chatter and coo to each other, then rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the cabinet he'd been digging around in, determined to find the numerous Reeses peanut butter cups he'd stashed there. Everything was as normal as he'd expect, all things considered.... and then Moon climbed up onto the countertop and snatched the jar of peanut-free peanut butter.

He stepped back, his confusion palpable. ".....I don't understand how that child just climbed up the counter. Ok then."

Moon hopped down from the counter as carefully as his baby body would allow, then uncapped the jar of peanut butter and stuffed his hand inside it, very messily beginning to write one letter at a time across the cupboards. Lunar stood back, a brow raised as he waited to see what was written. "C... A... LL... M.. ON... TY. Call Monty? Why would I—is that actually both of you?"

The pair of babies immediately squealed in response, and Sun picked up the discarded jar of peanut butter, angrily throwing it at Lunar. Lunar stepped to the side, concern written all over his face as Sun continued screeching. "Oh god, ok, I'm assuming you're screaming at me, but I can't tell. I'm gonna call Monty."

Lunar picked up the jar of peanut butter, placing it back onto the kitchen island before dialing Monty's number. It rang once... twice... three times... then a fourth, and then promptly went right to voice mail, much to no one's surprise.

Not bothering to leave a message, Lunar hung up and sighed heavily. "Ok, I called Monty, but it went to voice mail. I'm not sure what you want me to do here."

"Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me." Moon's expression soured. "Of all the times for them to ignore their phone, why now?!"

Sun let out a string of angry obscenities, his rays flattening in distress. Dazzle was the only one home currently, and she was the last person he'd ever want to find out that he and Moon had been turned into babies.

Lunar lifted his hands, forcing an awkward, apologetic smile. "I'll wait a bit and then try again, ok? Monty's probably busy right now; I'm sure it's not a huge deal. We'll figure this out, I promise."

Sun screeched, picking up the lid to the jar of peanut butter and throwing it at Lunar, only succeeding in bouncing it off of Lunar's leg. Lunar picked up the lid, opting to look anywhere but at his brothers as he screwed it back onto the jar. He didn't need to understand them to know they were less than happy, and he could feel it every time they looked at him. Part of him wondered what he should do; they were his brothers, so they knew how to do things and take care of themselves, and they'd likely be peeved if he tried to help them. At the same time, though, they were small and significantly weaker than normal. There were things they were going to need help with, regardless of if they wanted it or not. Solar was out, so he wouldn't be able to help with this, and Monty was preoccupied doing....... Monty things, so they weren't available at the moment, either. Lunar considered calling Earth, but it'd been one of her bad days, and she was likely in bed resting. Lunar felt bad for even entertaining the idea of bothering her, so he decided that she also wasn't an option.

That left only one person in the immediate family. Flare.

Lunar attempted to call Monty again, but when it went to voice mail, he sighed. Yep. Flare was the only other option.

He dialed Flare's number, and after the first couple of rings, Flare answered, his voice as flat and unenthusiastic as ever. "Hello?"

Lunar smiled awkwardly. "Heeeeeeey, uh... we have a problem. I'm at Sun and Moon’s house, and I'm gonna need your help."

There was a pause before Flare responded, a hint of concern in his tone. "What kind of problem? Is everything ok?"

Lunar's gaze flicked over to Sun and Moon. Sun was sitting on the floor, giving the thousand-mile stare as his rays drooped, and Moon was anxiously pacing back and forth, cooing to himself. Lunar cleared his throat. "Uh, well... no one's hurt, but there's another issue. I have no idea how it happened, but Sun and Moon got turned into babies."

On his end of the call, Flare's brows lifted, and he made a face. "They what?"

"Got turned into babies. I'll send you a picture, lemme just—" There was a pause as Lunar snapped a photo of Sun and Moon and sent it to Flare.

Flare opened the image and looked at it, silent for a few seconds, before he seemingly made a decision. "I'll be right over. Don't let them out of your sight."

Lunar nodded. "Got it. The door should be unlocked, so you can just walk on in."

The call wrapped up, and Lunar turned his attention to his brothers, sighing softly. "Ok, so I did get someone's help, but it's not Monty."

Sun and Moon both looked up at Lunar, and Lunar continued. "Since Monty’s not picking up the phone, I called Flare. He's on his way now. Maybe he can help you guys get to Moon's lab or something, so this can be reverted."

Sun's small body tensed up, and Moon felt an immediate sense of dread. It's not that they disliked Flare. On the contrary, they thought he was a good guy. A lot of his actions and behavior were still dictated by programming and protocols, though. This meant that while he was definitely someone who'd keep them safe until they went back to normal, he was also likely to be a helicopter sibling.

Lunar herded both babies to the living room, and within minutes, Flare arrived, letting himself into the house. As he entered the living room area and spotted Sun and Moon, he immediately found himself locked into a staring contest with them, his expression blank aside from the way his brows shot up in surprise. Not taking his eyes off of them, he spoke. "....So this is what we're dealing with. Interesting."

Sun began to walk away, but Lunar blocked his path, chuckling awkwardly and very pointedly ignoring the way Sun made a series of angry baby noises at him. "Yeah... yeah, this is it."

Sun's angry babbling came to an immediate halt as he was scooped up by Flare, and he stared at Flare with wide eyes. "Flare, I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please, for the love of god, put me down."

Only hearing cooing sounds, Flare let out a soft huff and tilted his head, his rays slowly spinning and almost mimicking a buffering circle. A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of Flare's lips, and he did the exact opposite of what Sun wanted; he followed his programming and held Sun closer, one arm underneath Sun and supporting him there, while the other hand rested on Sun's back. Sun's rays shrank, and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. The swirls within Flare's rays slowly went between being dimmer and brighter, and his entire demeanor softened.

Seeing the position Sun was in, Moon tried unsuccessfully to bite back a snicker. ".....How's the cuddling, Sun? You comfy?"

Sun immediately narrowed his eyes and glared at Moon. "Shut the hell up. Don't even talk to me."

Lunar and Flare watched intently as the babies babbled back and forth to each other, and Lunar couldn't help but chuckle, seeing the look on Sun's face. "Well someone's not very happy."

Flare huffed, his smile widening ever so slightly. "No, I would think not." He paused, then let out a soft sigh. "Are we taking them to Moon's lab then, or?...."

Lunar scrunched up his face, looking back and forth between Sun and Moon thoughtfully. "Mmmn..... we should, but I feel like we should do something else first."

Flare glanced down at Lunar, unbothered as Sun squirmed and attempted to wiggle out of his arms. "Such as?"

Lunar made sure to meet Moon's gaze, then Sun's, before he gave an impish grin. "I think Earth should see them. It's been a rough day for her, so this might help cheer her up."

Sun and Moon immediately began to screech in protest, and Flare arched an eyebrow in amusement. "You might be right, Lunar." He paused, then added, "What about Dazzle? I'm assuming she's asleep right now, and we shouldn't wake her up or leave her here alone."

Lunar made a sound in acknowledgment, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on things, in case she wakes up. You're the baby magnet; I'm sure you could manage a trip to Monty and Earth's place by yourself."

Flare sighed and shook his head, still smiling slightly to himself. "I suppose so. Try not to burn the house down while we're gone, ok? Sun would be pissed."

Lunar couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, yeah, I know. If I can help it, I won't destroy anything."

Flare shifted Sun in his arms and then began to approach Moon. Moon began to back away, his head craned back to look up at Flare. "....Pick me up and I'll fight you.”

Without hesitation, Flare scooped Moon up despite the warning and hummed. "Knowing you, you just threatened me. Am I right?"

Moon screeched, smacking Flare's face with his tiny hands and squirming as much as possible, and Flare sighed again. He shifted both babies in his hold, making sure they were secure, and then began to walk toward the door. "Alright, we're off, Lunar."

"Ok, have fun. Let me know how Earth and Monty react to Sun and Moon." Lunar grinned, watching as Flare made for the exit.

Just as he was about to reach the front door, Moon's tiny hands plopped right over his eyes, and he paused. "Moon, unless you want me to accidentally drop you and Sun on your heads, you probably shouldn't do that. Move your hands, please."

Moon stubbornly refused, keeping his hands in place, and Flare raised an eyebrow. "I'll make it up to you and Sun once this is all sorted out and you're back to normal, I promise. I'm only taking you to see Earth because it'll make her happy. Do you really want to deprive her of happiness after how much pain she's been in today?"

There was some hesitation, before Moon reluctantly moved his hands, grumbling unhappily under his breath. "....Oh, you stupid, no good, manipulative twink. There will be payback for this, so help me god."

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bitchin-beskar · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii! If requests are open,could I get a fic with our fave blue tin can man paz!! Maybe an alor! Paz and teacher! Reader au where theyre crushing on each other and the children try to get them both together?? Lots of teasing and just general cuteness?? There's not enough paz content on here 😔

Also hope you enjoy your tripp!!! Safe journey 😊

hi!!!! requests will always be open lol, I just cannot promise I'll get to them in any reasonable length of time.

CASE IN POINT

whew. it's been a long ass time. and I am super duper sorry about that. writer's block combined with a AO3 author's note cursed life has really put a damper on me getting anything productive done in terms of my writing.

NO MORE

so this is more of a drabble/ramble than an actual fic, but if you like it, (or anyone else), I will gladly make it into an actual full-length fic!

also tagging @catsnkooks cause I promised I would

without further ado,

Alor!Paz x Teacher!Reader au...

The snickering of small children sent a shiver down your back on the best of days. As much as you loved your students, they were not exactly the easiest to handle when they got in a mischievous mood.

But there was something different about this snickering. It was less stifled, like they weren’t trying to hide their scheming and plotting from you. It also sounded far too giddy, like your precious students had already gotten away with whatever they’d been plotting.

Turning around from where you’d been inscribing the lesson on the board, you eyed your students who were all huddled in a group, their little beskar helmets clinking against each other.

“Hibir’ike,” you called, watching with no small amount of amusement as they all startled and jumped to attention, the blank faces of around a dozen tiny helmets honing in on your unmasked face. “I haven’t even explained the lesson yet and already my students are eagerly discussing the topic.”

Your tone made it clear that you knew they were discussing no such things, but they didn’t seem to quite catch that nuance.

“O-Oh, of course, Baji!” A youngling by the name of Atii chimed up. “We’re super excited-OOF, Denaar, don’t hit me!”

The togrutan boy next to her looked unapologetic, the set of his shouders stubbornly still. “We’re ready to learn, Baji!”

Your eyebrow quirked, and you watched as your students squirmed, but none of them broke under your stare.

Unusual.

But, you weren’t going to look a gift fathier in the mouth, and you had a group of very attentive students in front of you, so you proceeded to turn back around to begin the lesson.

Not even five minutes later, you understood just what exactly your scheming students had been up to.

A knock sounded at the doorway, before a truly humongous Mandalorian stepped through, having to duck slightly to avoid hitting his horned helmet against the top of the door. Your eyes widened, and butterflies began to swirl in your stomach. Still, you managed to keep your voice mostly even as you addressed him.

“Su cuy’gar, Alor Vizsla.”

The classroom was entirely silent, your students practically vibrating in their seats. The poor alor didn’t even have a chance to react to your greeting before a bell rung loudly. You started violently, pressing a hand over your rapidly beating heart. Almost as a unit, your students stood, bowed to the Alor, before quickly filing out of the classroom as they headed to the gym for their recreation hour.

You waited, but after a few moments passed with Alor Vizsla saying nothing at all, you once more broke the silence.

“What brings you to my classroom, Alor?”

The hulking figure jolted slightly, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to speak.

“A-Ah yes, Baji’alor’adiik Beviin. I received your message-?”

Blinking, you felt your features twist in confusion. “Message? I’ve sent you no messages, Alor. And please, Baji is perfectly fine.”

His helmet tilted to the side. “You are the Baji’alor’adiik here, yes?” He waited for your nod before continuing. “I assure you, the message came from your comm code. Is it possible someone hacked you, Baji Beviin?”

You were already circling your desk, picking up your comm to investigate. You couldn’t remember the last time it was out of your sight, so the thought of being hacked was alarming. You clicked through your messages quickly, not seeing anything sent to Alor Vizsla. Then, you checked your deleted messages.

There, hidden amonst the various spam messages was a message that clearly had been sent to Alor Vizsla. You clicked on it with shaking fingers. Had you sent him a message when you were tired and forgotten it? Dear maker, what embarassing things could you have said?

But when the message loaded, it was clear to you just how that message had been sent to Alor Vizsla.

You dropped the comm on your desk, and buried your face in your hands. Your face grew unbearably hot in embarassment and you couldn’t bear to look at the Alor.

Warm hands covered in smooth leather cupped your shoulders, gently guiding you until you were leaning against the edge of your desk. You miserably let him move you, prepared for the lecture about letting your students get ahold of personal comm devices that was sure to come. What if he’d been in the middle of something important? It was absolutely mortifying, and you weren’t sure you’d ever have the courage to face the Alor again.

But then, gentle fingers tucked under your chin, lifting your face until all you could see was his helmet. He was far closer than you’d been expecting, and your face had to tilt up quite a ways to be able to look at him.

“Why do you hide from me, mesh’la?”

All the air in your lungs rushed out in a single breath.

His fingers stayed firm on your chin, not letting you look away as he leaned in close.

“A-Alor-”

“Paz.”

You blinked.

“Say my name, cyare.”

Shame bubbled up in you. “B-but I’m n-not worthy, no one of import-”

A low growl interrupted your stuttered speech. “I am the Alor. What I say, goes.” He paused. “Say. my. name.”

It came out in a whisper, barely more than a breath on the wind, but with his helmet so close, there was no way he hadn’t heard you.

“Paz.”

A shaky exhale sounded through his modulator, and his free hand slid down from your shoulder to wrap around your waist. Gently, oh-so-gently, he leaned his horned helm against your forehead.

#alor!paz x teacher!reader au #alor!paz #paz vizsla #reader #au #no y/n #the mandalorian #lynn writes #drabbles #fanfic

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 1 year ago

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Evolution Line Spotlight: Vulpix and Ninetales (037-038)

There is, obviously, quite a contrast between these two pokémon. Let me just say this right off the bat: if you are a vulpix owner or are looking to adopt one, I would highly recommend not evolving them into a ninetales. The contrast in both safety risk and difficulty of care between the two stages is going to be more than most inexperienced owners could be expected to handle, as I’ll get into in a moment. Thankfully, an accidental evolution is pretty easy to avoid in this case, since vulpixes only evolve when brought into contact with a fire stone; so long as you don’t have fire stones laying around your home, you should be ok.

Anybody who has been reading this blog for a while knows that fire-type pokémon don’t tend to score very high in the pet-viability algorithm. Vulpixes score pretty highly for a few reasons, so I could recommend them to people looking to adopt this tricky type. As mentioned in the vulpix post (linked at the bottom of this one), they don’t have any open flames on their body, making them less of a fire hazard than most. I will caution you, though, that they do exhale flames when they feel like they need to cool off, so a vulpix would be a safer pet for someone who likes to keep their home nice and cool. The species’ friendly, non-violent nature indicates that they would be pretty easy to train, which is good when it comes to any pokémon with fire-type moves that could, you know, burn down a home. Overall, vulpixes would make pretty good pets!

When we turn to ninetales, however, it’s a different story. I really must warn you not to adopt a ninetales as a house pet unless you are an experienced trainer! This species is known in equal parts for their bitter, vindictive attitude and supernatural powers. From their ability to generate and control raging infernos, to their mind control power, to their alleged propensity for dishing out 1000 year curses, risking getting on one’s bad side in any way is a bad idea. No pet owner is perfect! I would not want my cat, who occasionally gets mad if she doesn’t get fed dinner twice, to put a 1000 year curse on me! Added on to all of this is the fact that ninetales are said to have a lifespan of 1000 years. I, like many pet owners, would love for my pet to live forever. When you really think about it, though, a pet that’s almost guaranteed to outlive you is a pet that you need to have a plan for after your death. A ninetales is a high-maintenance pet that you will need to pass down to another person, who then would have to pass it on to someone else, and so on. It would be a massive headache, and opens up plenty of opportunities for your pokémon to get abandoned or left at a shelter that may be ill-equipped for caring for fire-types.

I am a fan of both of these pokémon, but I would never consider adopting a ninetales as a house pet. A vulpix? Sure! I think they’re super cute, and they look like they’d be nice and warm and cuddly. I personally am pretty unlikely to go for a fire-type pokémon though, just because I’m in no financial position to risk a house fire! Call me over-cautious, I guess. Oh, and as an extra note: if you come across a vulpix in the wild, be very careful about approaching them! This is an evolution line where one must be cautious of protective later-stages like ninetales who might attack to protect the younger, less experienced members of their group.

The Vulpix Post:

The Ninetales Post:

#pokémon #pokemon #vulpix #ninetales #pkmn irl

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alkaline-wtr · 2 years ago

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Self-Conscious

self-conscious!Konig x fem!reader Description: Konig is self conscious about his height. Genre/Warnings:Selfconscious!Konig x Fem!reader, Fluff, wholesome, headcanon WC: 543

My Masterlist

AN** A headcanon I thought about at work. I feel like Konig growing up would have slowly started to believe his height was a curse and become super self conscious about it later in life.

Due to all the bullying Konig suffered throughout his youth he has always been extremely self-conscious of his height.

He was picked on a lot in grade school for his unusual size.

He always sat in the back of the classroom or was put in the back of group pictures.

His height gave him an unfair advantage in certain competitive sports or activities like racing or jump rope. The kids no longer invited Konig to play with them because of this.

He expected the playing field to level out as the other kids went through growth spurts. But puberty just kept him growing.

His knees hardly fit under the school's desks, and he had to hunch over a lot to reach his paper.

Konig was often anxious in public spaces. Hyperaware of the amount of space he took up. He felt the judgmental looks and assumed whispers were about him.

He had to duck under most doorways. And using public restroom stalls was completely out of the question.

Dating was hard. The ways he'd contort to reach their lips for a kiss, The angles they'd have to walk together when holding hands. Not to mention the uncomfortable attention they would receive in restaurants. Most girls in his school didn't find the struggles worth the relationship.

From the moment Konig met you, you were accommodating to the height difference. In the early dating stage, when he slept over at your place, you'd move the furniture and make a large bed on the floor with cushions and blankets because he had a rough time keeping his legs from dangling off the mattress.

You wore heels more often than not when going out, even though you knew your feet would hurt later. You knew it helped ease Konig's mind, having less space between you.

You never made Konig feel negatively about his height or the weirdness that came with it.

Noticing how much it annoyed him when people asked to reach things for them, you made it a point to be more independent and even rearranged your kitchen to cater to the both of you.

When you two moved in together, you had to spend extra money to renovate some of the appliances to make things more comfortable for Konig.

You had to buy larger furniture or order things custom which sometimes was a hassle, but his comfort and safety were important to you.

You wanted Konig to feel at home in your shared space.

Konig would watch you from the doorway as you climbed counters, and the pantry shelves to reach things, not wanting to interrupt his free time.

As silly as it seemed, no matter the countless times he told you that you could ask him for help anytime, you had made it a mission of yours to show him that he was more to you than his height.

Konig appreciated the effort you put in to make him feel cared for and comfortable.

You wanted to reverse the treatment he had received from people throughout his life and prove that his height was not something to be ashamed of.

When you were around, Konig felt more comfortable in his body. His actions became more confident and relaxed. He just learned to exist.

#konig headcanons #konig fanfiction #konig x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #konig call of duty #konig cod #cod konig #mw2 fanfic #konig fluff #alkaline writes #☑️mstlst

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hard-core-super-star · 2 years ago

Note

May I please request that Hailee and reader are in a secret relationship, and hailee is on instagram live, fans can hear movement and voices in the background and keep asking hailee whose with her.

meet me there, i'll give you your roses [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: just because you two are supposed to be keeping your relationship a secret doesn't mean you can't have some fun with it.

warnings: none, just fluff; secret relationship shenanigans; weird descriptions of an instagram live chat; still can't write endings :)

wordcount: 1k

a/n: full disclosure, the title has nothing to do with the fic at all, i'm just spreading the måneskin agenda. i sort of messed around with the point of view in this fic, it might not be noticeable but just wanted to point it out in case it's confusing. it's more hailee-centric than my other fics instead of it just being about R's thoughts. you'll see what i mean, hope you enjoy! <3

* * * * * * *

Hailee’s eyes are trained on the screen of her phone while she tells the most ridiculously random story she could think of. It’s been far too long since the last time she did an Instagram Live and her excitement at getting to interact with her fans again is more than a little obvious.

Free time has been harder and harder to find between all the photoshoots and interviews, especially considering there's only one person she wants to talk to when her schedule allows it.

“And then y/n had to come in and-”

You look up at the sound of your name. You hadn’t been paying much attention to her story, too busy looking through food delivery apps and trying to decide what to have for dinner.

The original plan was to cook something for dinner but a certain someone decided to do an impulsive Live instead and so the plan was scrapped. Not that you mind. Hailee’s skill in the kitchen is…a work in progress, at least when it comes to potato peels.

Her eyes meet yours almost as if she knows exactly what you’re thinking about. You half expect her to stick her tongue out at you but doing that would only lead to more questions she can’t answer.

You offer her a smile instead before the two of you go back to looking at your respective phones.

Hailee resumes her story, pretending she got distracted by one of her dogs and not her lovely girlfriend. It’s practically impossible to act like she can’t see all the questions pouring in about who she was actually looking at but she manages. (It’s not like acting is her job or anything)

The questions and comments flying by her screen should be annoying or at the very least overwhelming but she ends up finding them quite entertaining. She’s not about to pretend like questions about her sexuality or who she’s dating are anything new but at least now they’re less straightforward (no pun intended) than when she was on Dickinson.

At least she's not actually trying to keep things a secret this time. She's just waiting for the right time. Although the waiting gets harder every time you look at her like she's the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She'd be upset if she wasn't aware that's exactly how she looks at you.

She tries to keep your name out of her mouth for at least a few minutes to not look super obvious but she fails miserably. “Where’s y/n?” She reads the question out loud before she can stop herself. “I don't know, probably burning down the apartment.”

An offended gasp comes from the side of the room where you're standing and you know you're kidding yourself if you think her phone didn't pick up the sound.

The look she sends your way says as much and you mentally curse yourself. Although, to be completely honest, if there's one thing you both love more than each other it's feeding the theories about your relationship.

The both of you should definitely be more careful if you don't want to get found out but creating chaos within her fandom is just too much fun. Plus, the only reason you two are sneaking around is because Hailee wants to come out ‘the right way’. Whatever that means.

(You're pretty sure it means a song and a music video featuring you but your girlfriend has been very tight-lipped about her music since SunKissing came out. A song that very well serves as a coming out announcement in your opinion.)

You decide to fix your mistake by turning people's attention elsewhere so you open up Instagram and click on Hailee’s profile. You can hear the chuckle she tries to hold back once she reads your comment.

yourusername: are you insulting my cooking skills again, Steinfeld?

The chat explodes into a flurry of comments that a certain pair of brown eyes can't keep up with.

“I'm just telling people the truth,” she replies. “There's a reason you always order food instead of cooking.”

yourusername: yeah. you never wash the dishes

“Oh, that's low.”

She forgets the game you're playing for a second, looking up to glare at you. Her eyes don't end up meeting yours since you're too busy staring down at your phone.

A small smile spreads along her face as she admires you. Even in the middle of teasing her in front of her fans, you're the most amazing thing she's ever laid eyes on. Eyes that give away the fact that she's not home alone like she originally said she was.

She looks back at her phone just in time to catch sight of the many questions she has to avoid. Such as,”Who are you looking at? Is y/n at your place? Are you having dinner together?”

She ignores them all except the one that comes from the person who owns her heart.

yourusername: so, what are YOU cooking for dinner, chef steinfeld???

The response she comes up with is definitely a bad idea but it slips out anyway. “I don't know. What do you want for dinner?”

She tries to cover up the sound of your laugh by ‘accidentally’ kicking some of Martini’s squeaky dog toys. It's a bad coverup but it's the only choice she has. It would be a lot more believable if her dogs weren't asleep in the bedroom.

yourusername: too late, i already ordered cheeseburgers

“Marry me right now,” she replies, her smile turning into a slight smirk.

You know she's messing around but your heart still skips a couple of beats as you type out your response.

yourusername: i'll think about it ;)

The doorbell rings just in time.

You let her wrap up the Live as you pick up your food. By the time you come back, her phone is gone and she's already curled up on the couch scrolling through Netflix for something to watch.

“That was fast,” you say.

She shrugs. “Thought I should help you reconsider my proposal.”

“Food first, proposal later.” You hand the bag holding your dinner over to her.

“Seriously, y/n, could you be any more perfect?”

The laugh that escapes you is enough of an answer for her. You're everything she's ever wanted.

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld fluff #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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iamnmbr3 · 10 months ago

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❤️, 🖤 & 🤍 for the ask game!

I don't see a red heart. I do see this one though (💔) but that's answered in a previous ask so I'll ignore it.

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

I'm going to go with Harry Potter. Listen, there is a "Harry Potter is a terrible person" corner of the fandom but I'm not in that corner personally (though I 100% support everyone's right to their own interpretations). I do think though that Harry is a flawed person and also someone who is capable of being very deadly when he has to be and making tough calls. I feel like he often gets flattened into this hyper pure heroic archetype who could never do anything morally grey and just is unrealistically idealistic to a fault. This often goes with characterizing him as really stupid and oblivious which is not supported by canon imho and also is just so much less interesting than the dynamic character that Harry actually is.

I also think it's super interesting because this also happens to Harry in universe too. Lupin chides him over wanting to disarm Stan Shunpike rather than risk killing him and acts as though Harry is being overly squeamish about the realities of warfare and of hurting people due to being so Good and Pure TM. This is not the case. Harry is willing to take great risks to do the right thing and to save others. But he's also capable of being pragmatic. Harry was perfectly willing to shoot stunners at other Death Eaters in that scene even though he believed that could be fatal to them. He wasn't willing to do the same with Stan because he believed (probably wrongly but that's another meta post) that Stan was a victim. It was for that reason that Harry was willing to risk using nonlethal force.

In book 1 he straight up killed Quirrel. In book 2 he forced Lockhart to go into the Chamber first, putting him in a situation where me might be killed by a giant deadly snake. He also was willing to kill Diary!Riddle in self defense and didn't flinch at it. He didn't hold back with the Death Eaters in book 5 and it was Hermione, not Harry, who objected to cursing the one whose head had been de-aged to a baby. In book 7 he goes into a duel with Voldemort with the intent to kill him. He is perfectly capable of being deadly and making tough calls.

He's also perfectly able to go against what is expected of him if he doesn't agree with it. He refused to harm Stan because he believed it was wrong. He seemingly refused to incriminate Draco in book 6 (both when he didn't report him for trying to use an Unforgivable and when he seemingly only testified to MLE about Snape's role in Dumbledore's death) because he felt there were extenuating circumstances (plus he can never make himself hate Draco *cough* drarry *cough*).

He also frequently uses lies and trickery and misdirection to achieve his goals - ranging from escaping life threatening situations to trying to avoid conversations he doesn't want to have.

And that's not even getting into Harry's tendency to make snap, sometimes unfair judgements about people and to ignore the flaws of people he likes (two flaws that he improves during the later books in the series, especially book 7) and his sometimes vicious anger. These are realistic and interesting character flaws. But they are real flaws. And I think a lot of fanon tends to forget about them, which is a shame.

However, this is not to say that Harry is a bad person or incapable of making morally courageous or empathetic decisions. Which leads me to...

🤍: Which character is not as morally bad as everyone else seems to think?

Once again I'm going to go with...Harry Potter. Because on the flip side there's a corner of fandom that I think takes an overly dim view of Harry (though of course, to each their own).

Because yes Harry is absolutely a flawed person. But he's also the person who put his escape at risk in book 7 so he could rescue the Muggleborns who were on trial, who couldn't even properly use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix right after he'd seen her kill Sirius (which is why I think the cavalier way it's framed when he uses it in book 7 feels super ooc and weird to me - I have sooo many thoughts on that scene but that's another meta), said he wanted to kill Sirius to avenge his parents but then couldn't kill or even hurt him when he had him at his mercy, said he wanted to kill Snape to avenge Dumbledore but then didn't even enjoy watching him die despite all their history, was so horrified by the flayed soul he saw in "King's Cross" that he genuinely made an effort to redeem Voldemort (offering him more compassion after everything he'd done then Dumbledore did at any point, even when Tom was a child - which says a lot about Harry as well as about Dumbledore), who wasn't even friends with Neville in first year but immediately confronted Draco about taking the Remembrall, who noticed right away that Ron was uncomfortable about his financial situation and set him at ease by telling him about always having to wear second hand clothes and then offered to share all the food he'd bought with him, who felt jealous and hurt when Ron was made Prefect instead of him but controlled that feeling and refused to let it rule him or to take it out on Ron, who refused to take the Triwizard Cup for himself because it didn't feel fair (unfortunately not the best call in retrospect), who was disgusted by the bullying tactics of Dudley's gang, who frequently made efforts to bolster Ron's confidence when he could see he was down or feeling insecure, who threw his entire body at a Death Eater to stop him hurting Hermione in book 5, who did everything he could to try to keep Sirius safe and his spirits up in book 5, who always gave his friends really thoughtful gifts that they liked a lot because he was able to pay close attention to their interests even when he didn't share them and so many more moments.

#Harry also originally immediately felt compassion for Dobby's situation in book 2 and im still so mad that JKR retconned that in later books #Harry Potter #asks

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ebrofour · 1 month ago

Note

Pancake looks at the medic lookin' super soldier guy, confused as all hell. "Hold up, hold the hell up, before I answer the questions you asked me. You. Yes you. You must be the denses motherfucker I have ever heard, I would know I'm god damn one of them. And you back there, who was close to my hand then, a ghost?? Don't lie to me, Miss Vilenthigh, I would know a person was on my bac-"

Then complete darkness, a very sharp pain was felt on the side of Pancake's head. At a moment's notice, his eyes opened, he was struck by… something. His eyes are ringing, and his vision is back. Well, seeing everything in purple counts as vision, but hey. He's not a doctor. More smoky coughs brought back up, more darker than before.

"Fine… I'll answer your stupid question…"

Pancake face was showing the emotion of pissed off, tired, annoied, and disappointment. This is some rookie torture methods, he might as well get along and entertain the folk in front of him. If these people ain't going to "take care" of their guest properly, then he's going to "give" them the truth. Outsmarting them would be cheating, after all.

"Number one, do you know me, I don't really have the best track record with people. My sister would be sad about my death, but that's pretty much it. If you can actaully kill me for good, of course."

"Number two, yes I have magic spells or powers or whatever you guys call it. It's more like a curse to me personally. Oh right the killing part was a part of that. Cough cough cough cough Sorry about that…"

"Number three, put a mirror in front of yourself and retell that question to me. I haven't mess with you guys in months, I haven't stolen anything except my daughter's blood back a few months back. Then you guys kidnapped me, sorry for sounding self center, but you guys really need to get some social skills."

"Can I pay you guys off now or are we waiting for the 5'9'' boss man to step in and have an actual convention?" (Pancake has 4 in charisma and 13 in speech. If you know you know.)

"..." "..." "..." The three of them quietly watch pancake fall on his side from nobody touching him. After he's done talking, Harley bursts into a fit of mad laughter "BAH- HAHAHAHA!~ OH MY- HOLY SHIT- oh...phew oh man that was golden. This guy reminds me of egg, except even less self aware!"

Scott sighs. He expected a quirky character, but this fellow just seems insane to him. Apollo walks over to scott and puts a hand on his shoulder

"Look, I say we just toss him to Harley or Eric or one of the other people here who enjoy needless torture. He's clearly insane, he's barely forming coherent thoughts. What the fuck does "Vilentigh" even mean?" "No no. This guy would consider that a win, I know how we can deal with him. I'll go get the samples."

Harley has propped Pancake back up right. "Hey! I know you're very very angy about your lil baby sunglasses getting broken, so I brought you a speciallll hat!"

Scott returns with a bucket of Angel Blood

"You see this? This is the blood of a holy being, more specifically, Artemis. And before you go into your batshit insane fit of denial, it's not paint, or piss, it's the real deal. Now, you and I both know you want this. Nobody's coming for you. So I offer a deal. You go out and fetch us some Occult Artifacts or other magical items, and you can get some of your precious Angel Blood back, capeesh?"

(seriously though wtf did vilentgh mean)

#harley #scott #apollo #oc lore #the e-brotherhood #humor #roblox

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slvtiny · 8 months ago

Text

Missing Puzzle Piece

Pairing: Hongjoong x afab/gn reader

Warning ⚠️: cursing, mention of sex,lmk if I missed any.

[a/n: This is a scenario, and I may or may not write on it later. It's not proof read so expect spelling errors, if you want to use this in your works then lmk and make sure to tag me in it 😊. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. Feedbacks are welcome as well. I won't keep you long but I will tell you that you might want to keep a tissue or two handy. That's it, I hope you like it]

Hongjoong had lost his group ring again

You did want to propose to him soon

Is it a sign??

How can he wear 2 rings on the same finger without being bothered about it?

You go with him to get the group ring reordered

And when he isn't paying much attention you tell them to put a hold to the making of the ring and make an appointment a few days after

Later the same week you go back to the place. Alone this time.

You pull out your design for the ring you wanted to make for him. You discuss details about its girth and the stone you wanted to get

After that is done you tell them to make his group ring a few sizes bigger than the original and to increase the radius within the infinity sign where the Dimond is set in one of its loops

Your idea was to hide your wedding ring inside the group ring

Well you wouldn't call it hiding since the stone in the second loop would give it away if you'd pay attention to it

You'd rather say he'd just have both his wedding rings together as one on his finger

You'd designed yours to have your birth stones embedded on the inner side where no one but he'd see it. Your diamond would sit on top such that it goes through the loop of the infinity on his group ring

Your diamond won't protrude but it would sit as though he'd had the original ring have 2 diamonds instead

The only difference being the tint your diamond had. You'd had the diamond cut into to engrave your initials into it with a drop of your blood and then stitched up like some pouch of a pact with the devil he'd made.

To get a natural diamond cut and re-harvested in a lab cost you good and if at all the love you had for him was any less you wouldn't have done it

You'd sat through nights and headaches just sitting at the kitchen counter designing the ring of your dreams

You had no problem at all, with the fact that he loved his members so much that you knew you'd make your ring to mold into it and sit like the rings are hugging each other

You loved them too, you couldn't imagine not having them in your life. You couldn't imagine your marriage without the chaos they'd bring, the laughs, the bickering, the love quarrels the stupid comments.

You couldn't imagine proposing to the love of your life without the help of the menaces who got you to fall into your future husband's arms, without their teasing.

You couldn't help but tear up waiting to collect the rings.

Hongjoong was your forever, till death and beyond, if not for eternity and all.

You had the ring, the dress, the hair inspo, the makeup, the nails, the heels, the venue, the plot for your trap to get your Joongie out of his studio, dressed and at the venue and your super supportive beastie Wooie.

5 hours to sunset. Everything is according to plan. Hwa has your Joongie out of the studio and preparing for a shower. You're sitting with Woo having your panic picnic at your apartment while he colors your hair.

3 hours to go. You're dolled up and getting pep talked to in the backseat of San's car which is taking you to the beach villa you bought last summer without telling anyone. Wooyoung had gasped offended when you told him you'd had this villa since late June.

The weather was pleasant, it hadn't rained and the skies were clear without signs of possible rain..

You were shaking, nervous and excited. Palms sweaty, breath heavy, heartbeat so rapid he could rap over it.

Just, as a confused Hongjoong walks up to the trail of flowers you'd prepared as a ramp for him. Nudged by his only hyung he continues to trace the trail.

You kneel on one knee, your hands resting on the other.

He finally walks up to you eyes teary and hands full with the Polaroids you had laid out pinned to the vines along the trail.

He stands in front of you and you look into his eyes. Like a dream to good to be true. But it was your destiny and you had come a long way to be here.

Bringing out the little ring box. You take a deep breath, flip it open and look the love of your life in the eyes.

"I did prepare a speech but I don't remember any of it. All I know is that I love you and I want you and I want to have kids with you and grow old and when we're dead I want to haunt with you. I want you to be mine.

Will you marry me?"

Tears trickle down your cheeks as you look at him. He's frozen, as he blinks his tears away.

He stomps his feet like a little kid.

"That’s not fare, I wanted to ask you first."

You blink at him confused as he kneels right in front of you, drawing a similar box out from his pocket and next to your hand he opens it.

"Marry me."

You're bawling your eyes and so is he. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before letting out his finger for you to put his ring on him as you follow to do the same. You recognize the tinted Dimond and look up to him in disbelief.

"Baby your drunk ass tells me all about your fantasies, I've known you'd want a diamond like no other, one with my sole etched to you forever."

"I fucking love Kim Hongjoong"

"I love fucking you Kim y/n"

P.S.

Attempt at comedy:

Wooyoung pops the champagne and the cork hits your head and then everyone makes Mrs. Kim Shorty jokes some including "you'll have short children since both of you are short".

Tagged: @chocoholicbabe1994 @pirateprincessoz

#ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #ateez hongjoong #ateez scenarios #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong x reader #marry me #atiny #y/n #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x you #afab reader #gn reader #fluff #rom

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milkywayhou · 1 year ago

Text

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART II

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

TWs: Curse words (from Snow), slow burn (kinda). I just wrote this for fun

Words Count: 3k (The email contain 2k+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/16/23 at 00:16 am

Subject: Paper Killing Me Slowly

Looks like my essays have finally done me in, Colonel. I officially declare these assignments a cruel and unusual form of torture. If my crippling debt doesn’t end up being the death of me, it’ll definitely be this never-ending pile of papers.

I swear my professors are deliberately trying to break me with their sadism disguised as “learning.” At this rate, I’ll be old and gray before I actually get to practice real medicine.

You’re probably chuckling over there in your super secret PMC headquarters, happy that my suffering brings you some minor amusement. Let me tell you, it’s not very fun on this end! By the way, since you never seem to shut up about your big important KorTac work, I did a little digging on you guys out of sheer boredom the other night. Let’s just say your organization isn’t exactly the most transparent, is it? Not that I expected any less from a sketchy bunch of psuedo-military operatives.

But what can I say, you’ve piqued my curiosity Colonel. There’s clearly more to you and your operation than meets the eye. Not that I actually care or anything…

Dying a Slow Death by Paper Cuts,

Snow

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/17/23 at 07:15 am

Subject: RE: Paper Killing Me Slowly

About time you resurfaced from whatever academic torment was keeping you occupied, doctor-in-training. Unlike some, I’ve work that can’t be put off for frivolous distractions like “curiosity.” While your professors’ standards may seem unduly harsh, rigor is integral to developing excellence. Quit your complaining and buckle down.

As for digging into KorTac’s operations, I’d suggest focusing energies inward on your own development instead. What we do is of no concern to civilian meddlers seeking petty entertainment.

Now then, your well-being – have you been maintaining proper rest and nutrition amidst studies? Medical training will matter little if you work yourself into an early grave. Take care not to bite off more than you can chew, doctor. Your potential is wasted by burning the candle at both ends.

Stay vigilant. And do try to check in more frequently going forward. Ensuring no volatile elements fall through cracks is priority, after all. But you knew that already.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 02:26 am

Subject: RE: RE: Paper Killing Me Slowly

Ooh, is the big bad Colonel actually concerned for little old me? How touching. Don’t worry, it’ll take more than some papers and late nights to do me in. I’m tougher than I look!

Though I appreciate your oh-so-subtle inquiries into my well-being. It’s cute that you care, in your own gruff, annoyed kind of way. Really warms the heart.

As for your warnings about focusing inward – I’ll have you know theoretical pondering is a crucial part of intellectual development, unlike SOME people who just brood and bark orders all day. Live a little!

Besides, you’re far more interesting to think about than cell membranes or DNA transcription or whatever the hell I’m studying these days. At least you provide some entertainment value while also agitating that permanent stick up your butt.

Not that I’d ever actually chew on you or anything…or would I? You’ll never know! Consider it some encouragement for YOU to stay vigilant as well, Colonel Killjoy.

Try not to miss me too much! I’ve got my course to slowly finish killing me. Ta ta for now ~

Snow ;*

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/18/23 at 03:04 am

Subject: A Question of Priorities

Hmph. Always with the fanciful notions and attempts to get under my skin, aren’t you girl? As amusing as your antics may be at times, they divert from more pressing matters.

Why is it you seem to find time for this inane correspondence, yet claim such a full schedule? Have you no family, social life or other obligations beyond schooling that demand attention? It’s late – most functional humans your age are asleep at a respectable hour.

Or is replying to my messages now the highlight of your days? I fail to see what could possibly be so engaging about our exchanges as to warrant daily disruptions to your studies and rest. Do explain, medic, before I’m forced to conclude it’s some misguided fixation driving this behavior.

Now then, I’m certain both our times can be better spent. This will be my last correspondence on the subject unless you’ve a sensible reason for continuing. I expect a clear one if we are to correspond further. Is that understood?

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 03:13 am

Subject: RE: A Question of Priorities

I can’t believe I’ll live to see you wrote ‘Hmph', but oh well.. No need to get so worked up over a little late night emailing. You’d think I personally offended your entire army or something with how tightly wound up you always are.

To answer your interrogations – no, I don’t have much of a social life between school and work. All my friends are in the same crazy overloaded boat. And family’s not really in the picture anymore, so it’s just me.

As for why I reply to YOU – it’s certainly not any fixation, don’t flatter yourself. I often check emails late at night to make sure I didn’t miss anything from professors. And sometimes replying to your grumpy missives provides a brief distraction/comic relief from the academic stress barrage. Not like you give me much else to look forward to in my messages other than another lecture on “priorities” or thinly veiled warnings about security. Add some fun or levity once in awhile why don’t ya?

Might improve that permanent stick up your butt situation. :)

Anyways, I don’t see how this harms anything. If anything, it’s helping me decompress from the intensity of my program for a moment. But don’t let that inflate your ego – you’re really not THAT interesting, Colonel.

So relax already. I have my priorities in order. Now are you done interrogating me, or can we get back to our regularly scheduled program of friendly pestering via email?

Barely slept,

Snow

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/17/23 at 03:20 am

Subject: RE: RE: A Question of Priorities

Look, I’ll admit you’re…more interesting than most people I could be corresponding with at this hour. There, I said it. Are you happy now?

I have way bigger fish to fry at the moment than whatever mind games you’re trying to play with your interrogation emails.

So let’s call a truce on analyzing each other’s motivations too closely, yeah? I’ll focus on my “priorities” as much as possible, and you can go back to doing…whatever it is you ominous PMC dudes do all day. And we’ll both be happier for it.

Anyways, I better get back to hitting the books. You take care, Colonel. Try not to have an aneurysm overthinking all this too much!

Snow

P.S. Please say something nice back for once instead of another lecture. I dare you.

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

03/18/23 at 08:47 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: A Question of Priorities

Very well, consider the matter settled as far as I’m concerned going forward. Your reasons for continuing this…discourse seem harmless enough, and who am I to deny you an outlet of levity in trying times. Though I stand by my advice on maintaining focus.

As for what we “ominous dudes” occupy ourselves with daily – it’s primarily strategy, training, intel analysis and security planning, you named it. Not as exciting as how the tabloids depict, I’m sure. Mostly tedium with moments of terror.

In any case, we all have our burdens to shoulder. Yours may differ from mine, but remain no less important in their own domain. So chin up, and do carry on with your studies unhindered whenever renewed vigor is needed. Perseverance is the quality that leads to true achievement against the odds.

Now then, I’ve said my piece. Take care, Farron.

König

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

03/18/23 at 12:20 pm

Subject: A Brief Observation

Dare I note the absence of your typical rigid sign-off that just screams “I’m an important military man, hear me roar!” Could it be you’re loosening up ever so slightly after our numerous exchanges? Developing a bit of a soft spot for little old Snow, perhaps?

I knew there had to be more beneath the surface of that tough-as-nails exterior of yours. Everyone has layers, after all – even secretive PMC commanders who like to pretend they’re robots without emotions :p

Anyways, I should let you get back to your no doubt very serious operations instead of speculating on your hidden depths. Just wanted to say thanks for the rare pep talk, Colonel. I’ll be sure to keep that determined spirit thriving even on my darkest academic nights.

Now get back to work! And try not to think too much about whether this means we’re actually becoming…friends???!. *gasp* That is, if your heart can handle it without exploding first.

Ciao for now~

Snow

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/04/23 at 10:56 pm

Subject: Radio Silence

So are you really going to leave a girl hanging with no reply, Colonel? I know you big tough military types are always running off on secret missions and whatnot, but c'mon, at least let me know you're not dead in a ditch somewhere.

It has been, what, over two weeks since our last correspondence? That's got to be some kind of record for you.

Wonder what'd have you all occupied that you can't even spare 5 minutes to tell me to get lost.

Please don't say you finally got sick of my pestering and had me discreetly eliminated from a distance. That would just be rude. And boring! I thought we had something special going here.

Joking aside, do try and stay safe out there - whatever "there" may be. The world of medicine could always use more capable folks like yourself, for better or worse.

Anyways, dropping you another line just in case you check email between top secret missions. Don't be a stranger for too long, alright Colonel Grumpy Face? I'll be here annoying as ever when you get back.

Snow

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/10/23 at 02:53 am

Subject: A Brief Addendum

Ugh, I don’t know why I’m even telling you this in my state but…I guess you're on missions, but this radio silent make me worry, you know. The lack of contact, not knowing if you’re alright. It’s infuriating. I try not to think about what might happen to a control freak like you out in the field but it creeps in anyway.

Just come back in one piece next time, you hear? As grating as you can be, these exchanges have become a constant. Don’t you dare go getting yourself killed, König. Idiot.

Snow

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/17/23 at 08:01 pm

Subject: Delayed Response

Farron,

Apologies for the lack of reply these past weeks – mission took longer than expected due to unforeseen complications. Extracting our assets took priority over trivialities such as correspondence.

Debrief and post-op work ongoing, so this must be brief. Merely wanted to assure you of my return and wish continued success moving forward. Consider this an open line should pressures seem insurmountable.

Now back to the grind. Take care, Farron.

König

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/23/23 at 01:29 am

Subject: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Colonel Köniiiiiiiig!

Hope debriefing is going well or whatever very secret soldier stuff you’ve been doing. Took you long enough to check back in, mister big important commander man! Anyways, I just wanted to share some very deep thoughts I’ve been contemplating after many drinks with fellow stressed out med students. You see, I have this theory…

Your call sign, König. That means King in German right? Very regal and powerful choice if I do say so myself. But it got me thinking – why choose that name, hmm? Is it to hide some deep insecurity and need to always be in control? A way to cope with feelings of inadequacy by lording power over others?

I crack the code, Colonel! You’re really just a big softie inside who picked König to hide your true emotions. How else can you explain putting up with talking to lil ol me all this time, huh? There has to be some secret weakness in there somewhere for you to entertain my antics so much!

Anyways, thanks for listening to my very serious conspiracy analysis brought to you by many tequila shots. Please feel free to deny everything and lecture me more in your next email sober Snow! Gotta go pass out now zzzzzzz.

Your favorite Inebriated medic,

Snow 🥴

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/23/23 at 04:48 am

Subject: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Farron,

It seems your dedication to unraveling mysteries extends even to matters best left untouched. While I appreciate your concern in your addled state, speculating on subjects beyond your clearance level will only lead down unproductive paths.

As for my call sign’s meaning, names are but signifiers – their derivation holds no relevance to function.. I lead to secure progress, nothing more; what I choose to call myself matters not.

Now then, onto more constructive matters – have you recovered from your overindulgence? I trust your studies aren’t suffering unduly.

Stay focused, stay determined. All else will sort itself in due time. Now get some rest – I’ve operations to oversee, as always. Perhaps next we’ll converse under calmer auspices. Take care, Farron.

König

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/23/23 at 11:24 am

Subject: RE: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Good morning Colonel,

Ugh, I vaguely remember sending those emails last night and…wow, what a mistake that was. Please accept my sincere apologies – drinking too much and spouting off about things I have no business speculating on was beyond idiotic and uncalled for.

The tequila clearly had a stronger hold over my judgement than I realized. I hope I didn’t offend or overstep any boundaries with my drunken ramblings. You of all people don’t need me stirring up nonsensical theories in your line of work.

Woke up with the worst migraine too, so that’s my penance I suppose. A stark reminder not to mix heavy studying with binge drinking ever again! Lesson well and truly learned there, I assure you.

Anyways, I’ll leave you to your important duties. Thanks as always for tolerating my antics, even when they’re fueled by alcohol. I’ll be sure to keep future correspondence more sensible. Apologies again, and have a good day! Ughhh.. the sun is too bright today

Your favorite regretful medic,

Snow

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/23/23 at 12:01 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Drunk Musings from Your Favorite Medic

Farron,

Water under the bridge. Focus on recovery and studies, leave past indulgences in the past. You’ve a bright future; guard it well.

No further need for apologies. Your potential is why I continue our exchanges, however unconventional. Now focus inward – your wellbeing is priority one.

Get some rest. We’ll converse again once equilibrium returns. Take care.

König

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 07:10 am

Subject: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

Good morning Colonel,

Feeling much better after sleeping most of it off. Thanks for being so understanding as always – you’re really not so bad once you loosen up every now and then.

Anyways, since we’re always discussing serious matters, I thought I’d lighten the mood by sharing some pictures of my precious furball Luna. Maybe they’ll provide a brief smile during your no doubt super secret soldier day.

Attached file:

-Luna_SpyingOnTheNeighbors.jpg

-Luna_ContemplatingWorldDomination.jpg

-Luna_FloofOfAnnoyance.jpg

Don’t say I never bring you any joy, mister serious! Hope you’re having a decent one so far. Chat later – I’m off to class.

Your favorite medic and part-time cat model agent,

Snow

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:37 am

Subject: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

I must admit, those images provided a brief reprieve from the tedium of paperwork. Your feline companion appears quite the charismatic specimen.

“Luna_SpyingOnTheNeighbors.jpg” made me chuckle – she seems to take her surveillance duties quite seriously. And who can blame her for fantasies of domination in “Luna_ContemplatingWorldDomination.jpg”? Such ambitions are understandable.

As for “Luna_FloofOfAnnoyance.jpg”… let’s just say I know that look all too well from subordinates who try my patience. Quite the fitting names for her photos, med student. Well done.

In any case, please extend my thanks to your cat.

Now back to the grind. Go learn and make that clever mind of yours even sharper, Farron. I expect top marks, as always. Keep well, Farron.

König

…

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:40 am

Subject: RE: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

Are you a cat person?

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 10:52 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Cat Tax (Don’t Open if Allergic!!)

An astute observation – yes, I harbor a soft spot for feline companions. Their self-reliance and pragmatic nature resonate. As young recruits, we briefly had a unit mascot that served morale well until retirement.

Now get to studies, Farron.

König

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From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

04/24/23 at 03:17 pm

Subject: Luna Photo Bomb

Colonel,

Thanks for indulging my curiosity about your feelings on felines. As an appreciation for your candor, I want to share something more with you – my Luna photo archive!

I’ve uploaded my entire photo folder of my furry friend to my G-Drive. The link is here:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1XYZ123

In there is a folder simply called “Luna” with nearly 10,000 photos documenting her entire life so far. I know you said you appreciated the brief distraction, so feel free to browse to your heart’s content if you have any downtime!

Just a warning though – my other personal folders are in there too, so please don’t go nosing around elsewhere. Luna folder only, got it?

Enjoy (or not?) and let me know if you have a new favorite shot of her royal fluffiness. Now back to the books for me. Stay safe out there!

Your favorite cat photographer,

Snow

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From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

04/24/23 at 09:39 pm

Subject: RE: Luna Photo Bomb

Farron,

I appreciate the gesture, but while I’ve no doubt Luna’s archives showcase captivating moments of her royal adventures, discretion is my foremost duty. Perhaps another time, under less sensitive circumstances.

For now, your updates on her antics and insights into companionship are solace enough.

Stay focused on your studies. Your quick mind will serve lives one day. As for myself, duty calls me elsewhere once more. Take care and give Luna a pet for me. Until next time.

König

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>>Anonymous

05/05/23(Fri)00:29:59 No.132921714

Feelings for a shadowy Colonel dude…help??

Image: [Sad peppe with glasses.jpg 204kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a tired med student swamped with exams

>Get random encrypted email from some “Colonel” guy

>Inside is classified military info about shady PMC ops

>Decide to fuck with him for laughs since have death wish from stress

>Surprisingly he actually replies and doesn’t leak my info

>Realize he’s actually pretty interesting under the hard ass exterior

>We start casually emailing about life and work

>Turns out Colonel guy has sorta relatable perspective on things

>Months pass and our talks become one of the few bright spots in my week

>His dedication is admirable, even if his job seems emotionally taxing

>Learn he actually has a soft spot for cats and sense of humor under layers of protocols

>Physical appearance is unknown but I picture tall, handsome grizzled badass (don't ask me why)

>Problem is I think I’m starting to actually like this enigmatic online friend???

>Nothing will ever happen since he’s eternally deployed and I barely know him

>But I look forward to his messages and appreciate his advice

>TF do I do anons??? How do I stop these growing feelings for a shadowy rando I email???

Pls help, this med student doesn’t need any more stress :’(

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)03:12:29 No.132921892: >>132921714(OP)#

I’d say don’t overthink it. You clearly care for him as a friend. Keep things light, see where it leads once you’re both free. Lives with purpose are sexy; maybe there’s potential. Just live in the present for now 

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)03:56:33 No.132921904: >>132921892#

Thanks anon, you make a good point. We clearly get along well so maybe it’s worth exploring more after graduation. I’ll try to just enjoy our talks and see what happens naturally.

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)07:34:02 No.132922100: >>132921714(OP)#

I’d be careful, he’s in a position of power over you. Just make sure you aren’t getting emotionally manipulated without realizing. Stay wise and protect your heart sis <3

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)12:49:44 No.132922146: >>>132922100#

you’re so right, anon. I’ll be vigilant for any imbalance since he knows a lot more about me. Our relationship so far has been respectful, so hopefully it remains that way. Thanks for looking out, it means a lot <3

Anonymous 05/05/23(Fri)11:57:06 No.132922468: >>>132921714(OP)#

Pics or it didn’t happen (of the cat). Also military guys are freaks, be cautious but maybe have fun while you’re young! You never know what could happen.

Anonymous 05/05/23(Sat)08:14:26 No.132922513: >>>132922468#

Image: [Luna_yawning.jpg 958kb, 500x500] Here’s the sweetie in question! And good point, I’m gonna stay cautious but keep an open mind. This med student is gonna enjoy her 20s however they play out ;) Thanks for all the advice anons!

Just quick update haha. I happen to have many free time today :D

Also, Comment, Love and Reblogged are very appreciate! 💖

#könig cod #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #könig x oc #könig mw2 #cod x oc #cod oc #könig call of duty

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